A review by Raisedon Baya of Tendai Huchu's The Maestro, The Magistrate & The Mathematician

There is literature that comes to you, sits with you, keeps you company, helps you sleep and then goes away and never bothers you or visits you again. Then there is literature that comes -usually without much fanfare or much ado - grabs you by the collar, sits you down, commands you to listen, asks you important questions, demands you to think, takes away your sleep and when it leaves, leaves you lost, unsure of what just happened or what you just experienced. Literature that touches you in places many others will not reach. This literature, rich and unflattering, is rare and special.

When I picked Tendai Huchu's book, The Maestro, The Magistrate & The Mathematician , I honestly didn't know what to expect. The title, somehow, looked heavy, brainy - complex. I honestly was in no mood for a heavy and complex read. Little did I know I was in for some ride. Several pages into the book Tendai Huchu had me sitting on the edge of the cliff, holding my knees, not knowing whether he wanted me to jump off or hang on.

Huchu swung me from one storyline to another, one character's life to another - from the Magistrate to the Mathematician, to the Maestro and back. He took me around Edinburgh, Scotland , showed me the streets, the nightclubs, the beach and homes where most immigrants spend their time doing care work - 'wiping bums' as many like to say. He painted characters that were so vivid, so realistic, so relatable - characters that had come overseas in search of dreams, characters still dreaming and those who had been uprooted and looked lost. He painted, and painted and painted.

Huchu's writing, the weaving of the stories, the details, the evidence of deep research, the humour - it sometimes just jumped on you from nowhere - and the richness of language made me want to pause after every chapter and call all my literature loving friends for a feast. 

This book, with it's strange title, was a lesson in reading, in literature. What it means, what it must mean for different people. What it can do to our lives. What is good literature and what is not? The books we read and the books we don't read. Who decides or influences our reading list. A subtle highlight of the complex relationship between readers, authors, and the literary world.

It was also a lesson in Zimbabwean music - that it has meaning and lessons and can be a soothing and powerful companion when one is uprooted from home and placed in some strange foreign land with its strange cultures and expectations. 

Another lesson was in diaspora/immigrant life. Tendai Huchu paints a vivid canvas about this kind of life. He gives it to you as it is. Like a doctor who gives you pills knowing they won't be sweet to the tongue or nurse that gives a child an injection knowing its sting will shock the child but also very aware of the necessity of the shock. Unflinching, yet necessary. 

Huchu explores themes such as immigration, identity, culture, politics, especially the complex relationship between Zimbabwe's official opposition and the ruling party. After putting the book down you'll ask yourself one question "is it a political novel or not?" And your answer to that will be interesting to other readers of the book.

African novels are being translated to English in a bold new trend: Ignatius Mabasa's The Mad reviewed.

Reproduced from The Conversation

 https://theconversation.com/african-novels-are-being-translated-to-english-in-a-bold-new-trend-we-review-ignatius-mabasas-the-mad-263958

When it comes to African literature, translation has mostly meant translating work from European languages into African ones. Translation from African languages into English has been long overdue.

Now it appears that a shift in the movement of stories across languages is underway. Works first written and published in African languages are increasingly being translated into English for a broader readership.

As a scholar of African literature and publishing, I am optimistic about the launch of a new book series called African Language Literatures in Translation by the University of Georgia Press. The series is edited by US-based literary scholars Christopher Ouma and Alexander Fyfe.

The Mad is one of the inaugural titles in the series. It’s a translation of Zimbabwean author Ignatius Mabasa’s much loved novel Mapenzi. The Mad is being jointly released in the UK and Zimbabwe by Carnelian Heart Publishing and amaBooks.

Mapenzi is written in Shona, but the ambitious series aims to translate a range of significant African works from other languages too, including Kiswahili and Sesotho.

This helps shift the terrain of African literature. It allows English readers to encounter African novels as they were first imagined, in the rhythms, idioms, and sensibilities of African languages. It helps counter the erasure of African languages in world literature.

Mapenzi

When Mabasa’s debut novel Mapenzi appeared in 1999, it was recognised as a landmark text in Shona literature. Shona is a Bantu language widely spoken in Zimbabwe.

Mapenzi tells the story of a disillusioned young war veteran who becomes the uncensored witness to the false promises of independence in Zimbabwe. He witnesses the collapse of social values, and the madness of a society trapped between hope and despair.

The novel’s daring style and unruly humour drew comparisons with Dambudzo Marechera, Zimbabwe’s literary provocateur. And with the stylistic innovations of Charles Mungoshi, the great craftsman of both Shona and English prose.Mapenzi was quick to win accolades and was adopted as a school text for a generation that came of age at the turn of the millennium. Since then, Mabasa has become a central figure in the promotion of indigenous African writing.

His commitment and investment was shown when he became the first scholar to write and submit a PhD in Shona at Rhodes University in South Africa. Mabasa is also a translator in his own right. He most recently helped translate Zimbabwean novelist Tsitsi Dangarembga’s Nervous Conditions into Shona.

His career has been a reminder that languages such as Shona are not minor, but vibrant mediums for complex thought and artistic innovation.

Now, more than two decades later, Mapenzi can be read in English for the first time.

The Mad

The Mad has been translated by J. Tsitsi Mutiti. Unfortunately, there is no information about the translating author in the book. Even a cursory internet search yields little to nothing.

In works like this, that cross language, culture and geography, the translator plays a crucial role, not just in the text’s language but in shaping its tone, context and accessibility. A translator’s note would have provided insight into the challenges and decisions involved in the process. Instead, the translator and the process of translation remain invisible.

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This lack of acknowledgement overlooks the labour and interpretive skill required to bring such a work to life in another language. The hope is that future editions will correct this omission. Leaving it unaddressed risks diminishing the very cross-cultural understanding that translation seeks to foster.

Translating Mapenzi is no small task: Mabasa’s prose brims with poetry, satire and linguistic play. Its cadences are deeply rooted in Shona idiom. The novel’s innovative structure includes chapters titled after characters, abstract concepts, places and song lyrics, pushing the boundaries of form and style in Shona literature.

In her translation Mutiti meets this challenge with remarkable skill, sustaining Mabasa’s lyricism and rhythm without smoothing out its texture. The result is a translation that feels alive, attentive both to the sense and the spirit of the original.

That said, there are occasional lapses into flatly literal translation, particularly in the dialogue. These moments feel more like direct transpositions from the Shona than deliberate stylistic choices in English. As a result, the translation at times struggles to assert a voice of its own.

Translation as decolonisation

Nonetheless, the publication of The Mad highlights how translation in African literature is not just a tool for accessibility. It is also a critical, interpretive and archival practice that reshapes the canon, its circulations and readerships. The Mad contributes to African literature’s global visibility and intellectual vitality.

For decades, the global image of African literature has been shaped largely by writers who chose or were compelled to write in colonial languages.

Kenyan author and academic Ngũgĩ wa Thiong’o, who recently passed away, has been one of the most famous advocates for writing in African languages. He insisted that the struggle for decolonisation could not be separated from the struggle over language. Yet, as he himself often admitted, African-language writing has remained marginal in the circuits of publishing and translation.

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A series like this aims to help change that. Other forthcoming titles include Zanzibari writer Ali Hilal Ali’s Mmeza Fupa (translated as The Swallowers of Bones by Meg Arenbeg), Kenyan novelist and sociologist Katama Mkangi’s Walenisi (translated as They Are Us by Richard Prins), Lesotho writer and teacher Ntšeliseng ’Masechele Khaketla’s Left Behind (translated by Makafane Tšepang Ntlamelle), and Halfani Sudy’s Kirusi Kipya (translated as New Virus by Jay Boss Rubin).

In this context, The Mad is more than an English version of a Shona classic. It is part of an invitation to rethink what African literature is and where it comes from. Mabasa’s novel, in Mutiti’s supple translation, demonstrates how much vitality lies in the vernacular imagination, and how translation can open doors without erasing the local textures of language.

With The Mad, a new and vital moment begins.

Tinashe Mushakavanhu

Assistant Professor

Harvard University

The Maestro, The Magistrate and The Mathematician by Tendai Huchu is August's book at the Bulawayo Book Club

Tendai Huchu's novel The Maestro, The Magistrate and The Mathematician is to be discussed this weekend (30 August) at the Bulawayo Book Club.

Three very different men struggle with thoughts of belonging, loss, identity and love as they attempt to find a place for themselves in Britain. The Magistrate tries to create new memories and roots, fusing a wandering exploration of Edinburgh with music. The Maestro, a depressed, quixotic character, sinks out of the real world into the fantastic world of literature. The Mathematician, full of youth, follows a carefree, hedonistic lifestyle, until their three universes collide.

The first review of Ignatius T. Mabasa's The Mad

 Review by Rutendo Chichaya

Reproduced from negwande.com/post/the mad-by-ignatius-t-mabasa-translated-by-j-tsitsi-mutiti

'I tried to pick up my jacket and missed it as I stumbled. I tried to laugh at myself but what I was feeling led to self-pity. The hunger was now a real pain, like a hot brick in my belly. I decided to go to the bins, where I had often seen people in search of food. Shyness is a luxury for the well-fed, not for those who feel the way I was feeling.'  page 27

The Mad is a novel by Ignatius T. Mabasa, translated by J. Tsitsi Mutiti. It was first published in 1999 in ChiShona as Mapenzi. I have read translated books that lose the essence of the original text by using a direct translation approach. While effective in its own way, as a reader I am captivated by translations that capture the moments and mood in a manner almost as similar to the original text. A heated conversation arose at the 2nd Edition of the Harare Open Book Festival, where I was moderating a discussion with Tsitsi Nomsa Ngwenya about translating works written in our mother tongues, the extent to which meaning is lost in translation, and the very act of translation: what purpose does it serve? (a conversation for another day). I commend Mutiti for boldly translating this Zimbabwean classic. Her admirable work begins with the title, ‘the mad’, because 'mapenzi' can be translated in different ways; this title applies to the city, its things, and its people, making it all-encompassing.  From the University of Zimbabwe to Seke Unit D, these characters will have you wondering if it is true that the more things change, the more they remain the same.

The novel tackles themes like the liberation struggle, postwar trauma, culture, identity, family dynamics, HIV/AIDS, sexual violence, and substance abuse in a web of chaos. The novel begins with the winding rant by Hamundigoni, the main character. It’s easy to dislike Hamundigoni, a war veteran and former teacher who refuses to accept the assertion that he has lost his mind. 'No one likes a profound thinker who speaks his mind. That's me, wide awake and always on the ball. I'm a genius but they call me mad. Do they even recognise madness when they see it? Amai, do you know madness?’- page 5. He is crude and annoying to a great extent, yet I found some empathy for him. This is the case with most of the characters linked to Hamundigoni, whose actions evoke frustration.  Closely connected to the post-independence disappointment is the trauma of war, which Hamundigoni marries in his periodic rants. Mabasa's humour is as strong as the sarcasm, which makes the blow of reality manageable to swallow. Mabasa’s comedic relief is clever, sneaking up on the reader in the fashion of a crow attentively preying on oblivious chicks and catching them at a perfectly calculated time.

The Mad is a commentary on Zimbabwean society, where racism, homophobia, and sexism are rife at the time of the novel. The book comes with a warning that alerts the reader to expect characters who reflect the society of the time. One of the things that this book asks the reader to interrogate is whether it's possible for us to be alright in a society filled with so much decay, disappointment and pain. One connects with these characters as they navigate life in an evolving society and realise that we are all on the brink of losing it somehow. Repression was the order of the day at the time this book was written. People who often speak their minds are seldom applauded unless their voices conform to the established norms, but is this the case for Hamundigoni as he alleges?

There are many strong characters in this novel, but alongside Hamundigoni, in the fashion of African folklore, Harare, the dog, is an indispensable character (Mabasa is a notable sarungano). This dog (formerly known as Salisbury before being renamed to ‘go with the times’) is given to Mai Jazz by her white employer, who, upon having to leave Zimbabwe to return to her home in Britain, can't travel with it. The employer gives this dog to Mai Jazz out of constraints. Harare is a key site in the novel, and as I read this, I couldn't help but draw parallels between Harare the dog and Harare the city. The allegory is sharp and impossible to miss. The characters curse Harare for what it has done to them, the city where people go to take on new characters (or their most authentic selves?) and shift their culture. Yet their intersections reveal that Harare is what it is because of its people, which leads us back to the title.

The novel beautifully intertwines the music produced by the singers, who have come to be regarded as legends in Zimbabwe, with the art of storytelling. Music and books meet at the well of storytelling, where people can draw what they require. In this text, Mabasa fuses the two; you can tell a great deal about people from their music over the years, as it also captures the language of the day. Mabasa effectively mirrors the tone of the time. I enjoyed reading this story once again, and the translation was well done. I highly recommend!

 

Book Details

Title: The Mad   

Genre: Fiction

Author: Ignatius T. Mabasa, J. Tsitsi Mutiti

Publisher: Carnelian Heart Publishing, amaBooks Publishers (2025)

Pages: 244

Ignatius Mabasa's The Mad now available!

We’re proud to announce the release of The Mad, a searing, satirical novel that paints a vivid portrait of poverty, violence, dehumanisation, and postcolonial dislocation in Zimbabwe.

Originally published in ChiShona as Mapenzi, this powerful translation by J. Tsitsi Mutiti brings Ignatius Mabasa’s groundbreaking work to a wider audience. The novel unfolds through dramatic monologues and dialogue-driven exposition, navigating moral ambiguity and steeped in the politics of language and decolonial thought.

The Mad is not only a milestone in Zimbabwean literature, it is a bold contribution to African and global literary landscapes, challenging conventional forms and redefining what the modern African novel can be. Mapenzi was selected in The Times Literary Supplement as 'one of the most significant books to have come out of Africa.'

It is a novel that asks urgent questions: How do societies manage cultural continuity amid rupture? What happens when colonial legacies collide with poverty, violence, and the forces of globalisation?

The Mad is co-published in Zimbabwe and in the United Kingdom with Carnelian Heart Publishing

Cover art by Lovemore Kambudzi

Available now on Amazon or directly from Carnelian Heart Publishing. 

Not available in North American markets till next spring. 

Huge congratulations to Ignatius T. Mabasa

Potholes in 'Whatever Happened to Rick Astley?'

Raisedon Baya discusses the story 'Potholes' from Bryony Rheam's short story collection Whatever Happened to Rick Astley?, which was being discussed by the Bulawayo Book Club.

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"Potholes"

I'm a sucker for political satire. I sometimes see it where it's not there. So please forgive me for seeing Potholes as some kind of political piece. Subtle but there. I don't know if there is anything called "covert satire" but in this piece I see a writer taking a short dig at politicians and the government. 

The futility of one man's, Gibson Sibanda's, attempt to solve a national problem is sad if not laughable.  Everyday we laugh at our problems and at ourselves. It's nothing new. The potholes are not only in Napier road but everywhere, as we later find out in the story. "He went first to Ilanda and then to Famona and finally settled on Pauling Road in Suburbs."

The dig is more pronounced when suddenly the city council wakes up to quickly fix the road because the the Vice President has bought a house in the neighbourhood. They quickly fixed the road so that the VP of the country would drive safely, and unbothered, to his new house. Here is a government of the people that has been captured and now panders to the whim of politicians. Politicians' lives have become more important than the ordinary people that the government claims to serve. Somehow priorities have been turned upside down. The servant has become the master. 

Potholes are a sign of roads gone bad. Unattended to. Unrepaired. And a danger to motorists. Potholes could also be a metaphor of something horrible gone wrong with our politics. Something that needs fixing immediately. And not by one person. 

Whether or not the author intended the piece to be a  political satire or not, the story effectively highlights the absurdity and injustice of a system that prioritises the needs of the powerful over those of the general population.

The story is also a typical example of "there is complexity in simplicity." It looks and reads so simple but on a closer look its depth is outstanding.  Potholes is just but of the 16 stories in Bryony Rheam's outstanding collection aptly titled Whatever Happened to Rick Astley?

Ignatius Mabasa's The Mad is Here

We're excited that The Mad, the translation from ChiShona into English by J. Tsitsi Mutiti of Ignatius Mabasa's novel Mapenzi, can be preordered now on Amazon  https://amzn.eu/d/8hP1FFI

The Mad, published by amaBooks and Carnelian Heart Publishers, will be released on July 29.  The cover is from an art work by Lovemore Kambudzi.  

The novel was chosen in the Times Literary Supplement as 'one of the most significant books to have come out of Africa.'