The Tortured Artist: Dreams of Success in Nairobi in Biko Zulu’s New Novel
“I got my things and left”. This is the first line in the book The House of Hunger by Zimbabwean writer Dambudzo Marechera. Writing about Marechera, Nigerian writer Helon Habila poignantly argued that he was “always getting his things and leaving; not that he had many things to get…” Though he was a renowned writer, Marechera had nothing materially to show for it and lived as a destitute. He was a vagabond, wandering from place to place; sleeping on park benches, being mugged and sleeping on other people’s floors. He only had a typewriter and a few books for his earthly possessions. He, unfortunately, fit the trope of the struggling, if not tortured artist. This trope comes out clearly in the new novel entitled Thursdays by Jackson Biko aka Biko Zulu. As 2021 starts, after months of economic damage by Covid-19, the issue of struggling artists has become even more relevant. This is especially because some artists make a living by performing before huge crowds that have been curtailed by the Covid-19 pandemic. For such artists, Nairobi has become almost unaffordable. Therefore, Biko’s message of the struggling artist resonates more now than ever. As usual, Biko Zulu writes well; in sweet harmony, and a rhyme delivered with some casual, husky warmth. Whenever writing about Nairobi or any of its suburbs, Biko Zuku always has a child’s wide-eyed or out-of-towner’s sense of wonderment – often told in forlorn, smoothed-out, wiggly cool funk, and the suaveness of a master prose stylist. He is always bold and adventurous, like one going on a random stop in an out-of-town spot. Fluid and musical, the story highlights the hunger for success and the struggles of a band named Vina Wira (Giriama for “Dance to the Song”). The story is partly a reflection about art, about the Vina Wira Band that performs on Thursdays. Biko Zulu describes the conditions under which the band works: “There is nothing as sad as singing to chairs. To chairs and tables, and a barman absentmindedly holding his chin in his hands, miraculously awake. But if you want to see the face of resilience you only have to duck into Rugged Hut on Tausi Lane, off Westlands Road.” And then he drops the bomb, “But Rugged Hut is where art lives, the torturous kind, at least. It’s where passion refuses to die.” The “torturous kind” of art is best symbolized by the broken string of the guitar on the cover of the book probably depicting the artist’s struggle in the gloomy darkness of real life in capitalist Nairobi. The tortured artist has been defined as “a character and real-life stereotype who is in constant torment due to frustrations with art, other people, or the world in general.” The artist or writer is often tormented by one thing or the other. Like a befuddled tourist who can’t remember his directions, sometimes an artist is out of the place like the saints who are, “in this world but not of this world”.
For some artists, this struggle is with poverty and the lack of material things needed to make their lives comfortable. For others, it’s just the creative spirits within them that give them no rest – haunting them everywhere they go. These could be poems or musical lyrics that need to be written that constantly haunt them. Writers know this especially well. You are pushing a shopping trolley in the supermarket and there is a flush of ideas and you suddenly want to write – scenes appear and sentences line up. It’s a feeling that haunts creatives and others in the creative industry like copy editors. As David Vecsey wrote recently, “It is a feeling that every copy editor knows. You bolt upright out of a deep sleep at 3 a.m., eyes wide open, and you say to yourself, did I misspell ‘Kyrgyzstan’ last night? And nine times out of 10, you can go back to sleep comfortably knowing … that you did.” However, this kind of torture is the “good” kind. The kind of torture the Vina Wira Band is going through is for lack of basic things just like many artists in Kenya do. And even for Vina Wira to get the chance to perform at the Rugged Hut, even if it’s such a small platform, Mwendwa, the founder of the band had to be connected to Ruto, the manager of the place. Biko Zulu writes, “They got this gig because someone who knows someone who knows someone who went to school with Mwendwa’s distant cousin introduced them to Ruto.” One of the most heartrending and frequent questions from a Kenyan who hits a dead end in any quest especially when in need of help is, “do you know anybody?”. From the days of the ancient Greeks, all artists have longed to better their lot. Homer’s Odyssey portrays Ithaca as the long-for destination, the place of the artist’s dreams – a sweet homeland of calmness and satisfaction – a promised land. Likewise, it’s a journey from where the Vina Wira Band is now to their blissful destination of success. In this journey, like for most of us, they must beat overwhelming odds. This needs a lot of resilience. To succeed, the artist, like everyone else, has to be unburdened, unruffled and adamant in the face of challenges.
*This article first appeared in the Saturday Nation on 16th January 2021.