Zimbabwean Writer Panashe Chigumadzi Poignantly and Powerfully Mixes the Bitter and the Sweet in Her Debut Novel, “Sweet Medicine.”
Stories about and by African girls and women have always interested me. Few things are as powerful as the diversification of representation. One of the first of such novels I was exposed to came in the form of Tsitsi Dangarembga’s Nervous Conditions, a novel whose relevance has never grown stale in my life. Coincidentally, Panashe Chigumadzi’s debut novel takes place in the same country as Dangarembga’s classic, twenty years after the first publication of Nervous Conditions. However, coincidence is all it is.
Set in Harare in 2008, at the height of Zimbabwe’s economic woes, Sweet Medicine tells the story of Tsitsi, a young woman who seeks romantic and economic security through ‘otherworldly’ means. Though a seemingly simple premise, Panashe’s development of Tsitsi’s character and the experiences and challenges she faces throughout the novel are both complicated and complex. Nothing is mundane. The book is a thorough and evocative attempt at grappling with a variety of important issues in the postcolonial context: tradition and modernity; feminism and patriarchy; spiritual and political freedoms and responsibilities; poverty and desperation; and wealth and abundance.
Sweet Medicine contains a gripping charm about it. With its intermingling cultural references that span several African countries, honest and at times cheeky dialogue, its contemporary backdrop and the continuous collision of clashing worlds it attempts to weave through, Tsitsi’s struggles easily become relevant references for the lives of so many young women throughout the continent.
As important as Tsitsi’s story is, just as significant is that of the author of this new and refreshing novel. In this light, Panashe and I had a lovely and insightful conversation covering everything from her creative process and journey as a writer, to personal politics and the development of Sweet Medicine.
Panashe was born in the Mbuya Nehanda maternity ward of Harare’s Parirenyatwa Hospital in 1991, a birthplace she shares with millions of other Zimbabweans, but nonetheless feels is auspicious. She grew up in South Africa and is the Founder and Editor of Vanguard Magazine, a Womanist platform for young, black women coming of age in post-apartheid South Africa. She is studying towards a postgraduate degree in Development Stuides at Wits University and is a 2015 Ruth First Fellow. Sweet Medicine is her first novel.
When contemplating the title Sweet Medicine, I’ll unashamedly admit a mixture of savory and unsavory things pop in to my head. Which leads me to my curious first two questions: Where did the inspiration for the story and the book’s title come from?
Those who read the book will know fairly quickly where the title comes from. Beyond that cryptic sounding hint, what I can say is that the scene containing the “sweet medicine” was the very first one I wrote when this was just a short story years ago, and it stuck. To be honest, I chose it then and have never thought of changing it because it simply felt right. I liked how it sounded and that was it.
The development from short story to a novel seems a very traditional one. However, the path from one to the other is not always an easy one, if at all. What was your creative process like during the transformation and development of Sweet Medicine?
I wish I was one of those authors to give you an interesting answer - like rolling up a blunt and hazing up before writing, or that I have popcorn and red wine a la Olivia Pope, but it really is quite a pedestrian thing.
Perhaps the most interesting thing is that when I write fiction, I don’t write in order - whether chronologically or in sequence. I think of an interesting scene or conversation and work on that. Eventually comes the time when I have to put the scenes together to create something that makes sense.
I taught myself how to write in the process of the book. It began as a short story, the first ‘long-form’ short story that I had ever completed. So I decided to challenge myself and develop it into a novel.
As I mentioned, it was difficult to write at first because I started with mimicry - I would read a book and when I would find interesting phrasing or metaphor, I would take that and see what interesting conversation or scene could be a pretext to “say” such a clever thing. Eventually I didn’t have to become reliant on that and became confident with my own ideas.
All in all, my writing process really varies on my headspace at the time because I juggle a lot of different kinds of work that require different kinds of thinking.
Before the publishing of this novel, you’d written extensively but in a different capacity as a journalist and media reporter. What motivated you to write fiction, and kept you motivated when writing this book?
I love reading and I love great writing. So I wanted to write too. Importantly, I write what I write because I want to see more of people like me, black women that is, represented in books. I’m interested in contributing to the many narratives of black and African women that the continent has.
That more philosophical reason of course doesn’t sustain you when you have to do the hard slog alone. I wrote the majority of the book at a time when I was frustrated with my last job and it was a great way to “diversify my ego”. My dislike for my job at the time was a great motivation to keep going. I would wake up religiously early in the morning and write for two, three hours and that would keep me going at work. I fiercely guarded that time, to the extent that I would get quite upset if I was required to get to work before 9 AM because that was cutting into my writing time.
Later on, once I had a publisher, her deadlines were definitely a big push to finish especially when I wasn’t in the mood!
Delving into the meat of the book, ideologies centered on Womanism seem central to your writing, both in Sweet Medicine and on other platforms. Considering your position as a co-founder of the Feminist Stokvel, Vanguard, and #Mbokodolead, why is Womanism, but more specifically black African feminism, important in informing your creativity and activism?
I write what interests me and what I grapple with on a daily basis. That’s what I am thinking about more often than not. All of my work is a reflection of that - how I grapple to what it means to be black and a woman in a world that operates under what bell hooks calls white supremacist capitalist patriarchy.
My writing and my beliefs both inform each other. I wanted to write and loved writing long before I even heard of the word ‘Womanism’, but as I have become more rooted in Womanism that has informed not only what, but how I write.
(Image: The Feminist Stokvel)
How does the novel differ and how is it similar to the non-fiction pieces you’ve published on Vanguard and other platforms?
My fiction differs from my work with Vanguard and other platforms, in that I see it as a different form of writing where I work much harder not to be prescriptive or didactic. You have to work to work to “show” and not simply “tell”.
Once finishing my novel you are less likely to feel satisfied in saying, “well, the moral of the story is…” There is a lot more space for ambiguity and complexity. I love to have readers tell me of their different interpretations of the characters and circumstances, particularly when these are perspectives that are completely different than what I had had in mind. When that happens I feel that I’ve done a good job of writing a complex being and complex world.
What is interesting is that I had one prospective publisher tell me that they loved the story but wanted me to change the ending of a story because it was not quite feminist enough. I responded that I wouldn’t change it because the reality is that the world is such that we don’t always get to have our satisfactory feminist endings, even when the endings are written by feminists. The world doesn’t have easy answers and so I want o be able write fiction that also doesn’t have easy answers.
At a time where the number of Africans being exposed to works from other Africans owning and reclaiming their own stories seems higher than it’s ever been, at least in my life time, the importance of what writers from the continent bring to this conversation is incredibly important.
But where did the idea to become a writer develop from for you? What is your background in writing? Have you received any formal training in writing fiction or has your talent been more organically developed?
What a lot of people don’t know is that I studied accounting for my accounting degree and so I have zero formal training in writing before I became a journalist about three years ago. Everything I know about writing is something I have learnt “on the job”.
The skill of writing non-fiction is quite different from the skill of fiction writing, but nonetheless my first port of call for either is to read as much and as widely as possible.
In the beginning it was difficult because I began with mimicry of beautiful writing that I found. That meant that even a paragraph was a painstaking work. Over time I have time I have found it easier to write because I have come to trust my voice.
I’ve learnt that despite ideas that “writers are born and not made” you definitely have to put the hours in and develop trusted sounding boards of people who can critique and help you build your voice.
Based on the excerpt I read, Nigeria and Nollywood seem to form an entirely other character on their own in the book. Why, specifically, was Nigeria chosen as a contemporary cultural reference point? Are there other African countries that appear as part of the story in some way?
I can only blame Nigeria’s brilliant cultural imperialism for its appearance in the book. I’m sure many Africans whether on the continent or in the diaspora have spent hours watching parts 1, 2 and 3 of a Nollywood film and can debate who the better actress is between Genevieve and Omotola. Let’s not mention the impact of Nigeria’s music industry or the beautiful fashion magazines where many of us get inspiration for our dress patterns.
There are many other aspects from other African countries that make their appearance in one way or another. For example, I don’t know which Zimbabwean household whether in the diaspora or in the country is not a fan of Kanda Bongo Man and other greats of rumba. We can talk of the wrappers that we call ‘Zambias’ and the love of dancehall that of course comes from our African brothers and sisters in the Caribbean. Countries like South Africa, Botswana and Zambia would of course make an appearance for the history of migrant labour and ‘economic exile’ that we have.
Ultimately, Sweet Medicine is the story of two ordinary Zimbabwean women - best friends Tsitsi and Chiedza, and so reflecting the more cross-cultural ties that we have as a result of socio-economic processes is the logical thing to do. It’s something I didn’t even think about explicitly until this question.
I think what this might underline is a pan-Africanist argument for the arbitrariness of colonial borders. We relate to and adopt much of each other’s cultures because we do interact and relate to each other than the fact of nation states allows.
SPECIAL ‘SWEET MEDICINE’ BOOK GIVEAWAY:
Sweet Medicine, Panashe’s debut novel, has been published by Jacana’s Blackbird imprint and is currently available to order here.
We’re also excited to say that, courtesy of the author, we’ll be giving away a copy of the book to one lucky winner. All you have to do is follow Dynamic Africa and Panashe on Twitter, and tweet us both the answer to this question using the #SweetMedicine hashtag: What are the names of the two best friends in Sweet Medicine?
Competition ends Thursday, November 5th at midnight CAT.
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