Looking for Bakhtin in Zakes Mda's 'Ways of Dying'

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Index:

1. The Introduction 1

2.The Theoretical Framework 6

2.1. The Basics of Carnival 6

2.1.1. The Demise of Carnival 9

2.2. The Chronotope 10

2.3. The Assumption 11

2.4. The Garden Analogy 13

2.4.1. The Official-Ideological Kafkaesque Garden 13

2.4.2. The Anti-Ideological, Anti-Official Fantastical-like Garden 15

3. The Contexts 18

3.1. The Summary 18

3.2. The Place 19

3.3. The Time 20

3.4. The Official Culture(s) 21

4. The Characters 23

4.1. Toloki the Professional Mourner 24

4.1.1. Toloki as the Fool 24

4.1.2. Toloki and Death 25

4.2. Noria, the Stuck-Up Bitch 27

4.2.1. Noria and the Womb 27

4.2.2. Noria and Laughter 29

4.3. The “We”-Narrator 30

4.3.1. The Narrators as Everybody 30

4.3.2. The Narrators without Boundaries 31

4.3.3. The Narrators of the Collective 32

5. The Chronotope 34

5.1. The Village 35

5.2. The Road 37

5.3. The City 40

5.4. The Squatter Camp/ The Informal Settlement 41

Renzo Baas: Looking for Bakhtin in Zakes Mda's Ways of Dying

6. A Carnival of Resistance 43

6.1. The Body/ The Bodies 43

6.1.1. The Body and Food 44

6.1.2. The Body and Nakedness 45

6.1.1.1. Toloki, Noria, and Nakedness 46

6.1.2.1. Bhut' Shaddy, “The Boers”, and Nakedness 47

6.2. Birth and Death 48

6.3. Inversions 49

6.3.1. Vutha and Christ 50

6.3.2. Toloki and the Church 51

6.3.3. Noria and the Church 52

6.4. The Role of Laughter 52

7. The Chronotope and its Carnival 54

7.l. The Village 55

7.2. The City 56

7.3. The Novel 59

7.4. The Future 60

8. The Conclusion 61

8.1. Connecting the Narrative, the Chronotope and Carnival 61

9. Works cited 63

Renzo Baas: Looking for Bakhtin in Zakes Mda's Ways of Dying

Leornardo da Vinci:

“When a man awaits the new spring, the new year, with joyful impatience, he does not suspect that

he is eagerly awaiting his own death.”

1. The Introduction

Da Vinci's quote makes use of the most vital aspect of the concepts concerning carnival: the

unifying of two seemingly opposite concepts. In this case, the longing for new life (as symbolised

by spring) is strongly linked to the idea of death. How does carnival however feature in literature,

and possibly in everyday life?

The word “carnival” means different things to different people. This assumption is of course

neither new nor unique, yet it lies at the heart of not only this paper, but also at the heart of

questions of power, resistance, the collective versus the individual body, ideology, and so forth. At

the mention of carnival, some people immediately conjure up pictures of the colourful, scantly-clad

men and women who parade through the streets of Rio de Janeiro, accompanied by swinging Latin

jazz music and rhythmic drum beats. Others think of Mardi Gras, the mostly American celebration

just before Lent, in which consumption of food and excessive drinking are the order of the day. A

further group of people will end up referencing the rather sombre carnival atmosphere of Kölle

Alaaf and the competing carnivals in Rheinland-Palatin, with its carnivalized elements but rather

formal settings. Although these three types of carnival differ from each other in many aspects, there

are just as many elements that connect them. Of course, there are close to an infinite number of

different carnival celebrations, some overtly carnivalesque in their structures and definition, while

others merely reference carnivalesque aspects (for example Halloween, which relies heavily on the

aspect of disguise). These aspects however carry similar meanings and potentials, and make use of

the freedom to cross boundaries and redefine or even undefine.

It is precisely these connecting elements that have interested and inspired Mikhail Bakhtin

in his analysis of literature and carnival's liberating features, especially in his in-depth examination

of the novels by François Rabelais and Fyodor Dostoevsky. Even though Bakhtin starts his analysis

with the physical and real-time manifestations of carnival celebrations before the 17th century, in

other words before the emergence of the Renaissance paradigm, he later transplants and also locates

these facets in the literature of that time, specifically in the works of Rabelais1. The elements in

these novels leave Bakhtin to believe in a possible social Utopia, attainable only through the

1 He focuses his theory on Rabelais and His World in order to explain the start, the demise and the transformation of

carnival into the literal sphere, using only the four books by the author under examination (there are five in total). The

focus in Dostoevsky is rather more on formal aspects, namely heteroglossia and polyphony. These aspects, however, are

essential to carnival as well.

Renzo Baas: Looking for Bakhtin in Zakes Mda's Ways of Dying 1

utilization of carnivalesque aspects. He argues that carnival is the perfect space to oppose official

culture, which he sees as limiting, confining and stagnant2. In Rabelais and His World, he

understands official culture to be “founded on the principle of an immovable and unchanging

hierarchy in which the higher and the lower never merge” (Rabelais 166), essentially denying the

“lower” any chance of participation in all that is high. This not only refers to social strata, but also

to the physical body (there is very little literature focussing on both anus and mind) and the cosmos

(mud and soil are poetically incompatible with the heavens and stars). However, in order to

understand what Bakhtin defines as “official culture” and what he defines as “carnival” is central to

his idea that these two concepts can be found in literary products. This of course also means that

through the effects of time (and the changes this brings with it) and space, the elements of carnival

must alter themselves, either increasing their potency or diminishing them. Although Bakhtin notes

a movement towards the latter, it is my goal to redirect that thought and to affirm the former. This

will take the form of applying not only his theory of the carnival in literature, but also by making

use of a further term and literary concept that he has coined: the chronotope. Here the ideas of time

and space and their representation in literature are at the heart of his focus. Not time and space in

their real-world existences but in their literary representations. They are both real and fictionalised

and can therefore be objected to literary analysis.

The idea is to use Zakes Mda's novel Ways of Dying in order to test Bakhtin's two concepts

in order to a) inquire the extent of the validity of the carnivalesque facets he claims to have

identified, b) observe in how far these facets are able to resist and transform manifestations of

official culture, c) use the chronotope in consideration of both narrative temporality and its

connection in spatial reflections, and d) create an understanding in how far carnival, coupled with

the correct chronotopic environment, is able to release resistant and transformative energies. The

initial step will be to create an appreciation of the two pillars of my paper, namely the chronotope

and carnival. I will then begin with a brief overview of how these two approaches are to function

and how to apply them, also discussing how and why carnival has supposedly lost some of its

potency. This will be followed with an important assumption concerning my understanding of

Bakhtin's carnival and the functioning of each of the elements in connection with official culture. I

will – for the sake of my argument – make assumptions concerning ideology and its antithesis,

namely carnival. After this, my aim is to use an analogy of the garden that contrasts the elements of

an official-ideological nature with those of the carnival. With this, I am already venturing into a

theoretical application or Bakhtin's theories, picking relevant chronotopes for my comparisons. The

final stage of this introductory stage is to enter briefly into the novel itself. Here, an overview of the

2 This is a recurring theme during his analysis of carnival as a counter-culture, citing official culture's “seriousness” as the most limiting factor in its

ability to change and evolve.


historical and political landscape and situation will be combined with a short summary of the

narrative to be dissected. A definition of official culture concerning the novel will be included so

that this can be a) distinguished from the political system and b) paired with the concept of carnival.

Once these formal requirements have been taken care of, the novel in its (potential) carnivalesque

totality can be laid bare.

Because any theory, whether it be carnival, post-modernism or structuralism, relies heavily

on the agents relevant in the production of a text (society, institutions, the individual), my primary

concern of analysis will be the main characters of the novel, Toloki and Noria. I will start with the

figure of Toloki, the agent with seemingly the most overt and most quantitative expressions of

carnival principles. Mda infuses this character with many of the facets that Bakhtin sought out in

literary productions (costume, extra-social existence, ambiguity, etc.), so he is a good initial site to

see how Bakhtin's “carnival” can function. The second figure to apply the carnival theme to is

Noria. Although not as immersed in carnival as Toloki is, she exhibits important traits associated

with carnival and its resistant capacities. Especially her role as mother and her deep roots in the

community seem logical areas to examine. Finally, and maybe unsurprisingly, the final important

figure (or figures?) to meet carnival's scrutinizing eye is the “we”-narrator. The term used by

Margaret Mervis in Adrian Knapp’s The Past Coming Home to Roost in the Present, the “witness-

narrator”, will be used from here on out. This chapter focuses on the extent in which these

characters embody (albeit unconsciously) the positive energies that Bakhtin attributes to the

carnival, citing especially its reformative and transformative potential. Toloki, Noria and the

witness-narrator, all living in an environment where survival is the top priority, in an environment

in which the state's authority is dying yet clinging violently to its last segments of power, must

make use of carnivalesque elements in order to not only envision a brighter future but also to help

reach that future.

After establishing the role and relevance of carnival in the novel, and more specifically in

the lives of the protagonists, it is vital to establish how time and space – the chronotopic axes –

affect both the characters and the carnivalesque elements inherent to the narrative. My analysis will

follow Toloki and Noria’s physical movement throughout the narrative, starting with the village.

After they leave the village, they are on the road; a chronotope that Bakhtin argues is an essential

part of any narrative. After they reach the end of the road, so to speak, a look at their new home –

the city – is next. The final chronotope that needs attention is the settlement, in which both Toloki

and Noria decide to settle down together in. These four main chronotopes each contain

subdivisions. For example, in the city one can also take an acute look at the cemeteries, where a lot

of the action takes place and which are filled with carnival energies. Or Nefolovhodwe's mansion,


also brimming with features that are important for creating a clear and concise picture of what

makes a chronotope, but also finding the elements that are relevant in connecting it to the carnival.

These will not be discussed. The number of potential chronotopes are too vast and numerous to be

dealt with in detail. This is why I have chosen to focus on the – according to my assessment – most

important ones. The road sequence has many stops and therefore offers a variety of spaces to apply

the basic components of the chronotope, while the protagonist is still extremely mobile and free

from geographical constraints. Once the role of the chronotope has been given the deserved

application, and once the role of the chronotope can be understood in reference to the progression

of the narrative, can the main ideas of my paper be addressed: the interplay between carnival and

resistance.

The chapter following the discussion of the chronotope examines the actual role of carnival

as a resistant category, focussing on its application within a literary context. The initial site of focus

is the body (individual) and the bodies (social and institutional) that appear in the novel.

Undoubtedly, it is impossible to assess each body mentioned in the novel and therefore I have

decided to give my attention to the bodies of the two protagonists, Toloki and Noria. When

considering the concept of the body, one is confronted – always and unfailingly – with the ideas of

birth and death. This is no different in Bakhtin's discussion of carnival, but in this instance, these

two essential poles of existence are taken out of the traditional contexts they usually appear in. I

will discuss to what degree both these important concepts influence each other and in how far they

are inseparable. This will take the form of analysing how birth is responsible for further births, how

death is a consequence of birth, how death creates more death, and finally, how death can

paradoxically mean birth. By looking at these inversions of the meanings of birth and death as a

strong supportive basis, I want to then discuss further examples of inversions to be found in the

novel. I will examine how resistant these inversions are in relation to official culture and what

purpose they serve within the narrative as a whole. Finally, and maybe most importantly for

Bakhtin, I will allude to the role of laughter, the engine of carnival. Here the link between laughter

and death is central and focal. Examples from the text that combine laughter and death and/ or

violence will take centre stage.

The penultimate chapter is an attempt to fuse the ideas of the chronotope with that of the

carnival in order to create a site in which these two independent approaches can form a cohesive

unit. Because the chronotopes (the city, the village, the settlement) of the novel have been

discussed, my aim is to find how time and space function in conjunction with the main ideas of

carnival. The two main areas that will receive my attention will be the village and the city/ informal

settlement. These two points are the geographical as well as temporal starting points for the


development for the characters and the development of the carnival elements. By looking at how

the characters are influenced by their travels, their confrontations, the changes in their environment

and their experiences with carnival, one can also gain an understanding of the progression and

impact that carnival has on the characters and their environment. It is here where one is finally able

to link the chronotope to carnival and examine the potential for change and transformation of these

two concepts. Although, as I have mentioned, carnival is not necessarily part of the chronotope, the

opposite is always true. This means that once carnivalesque elements and their opposition to official

culture have been identified, the function of the chronotope becomes just as identifiable. By placing

the carnival in specific time and a specific place, the resistant and transformative energies must

reveal themselves to both the characters as well as to the analysis.

The concluding chapter is an attempt at a synthesis of the narrative (with all its analyses)

with carnival (with all its elements and features) and with the chronotopes (the relationship between

time and space). This attempt serves the singular function of determining in how far one can take

Bakhtin's utopian ideas – situated most clearly in fictional literature and not be confused with

reality – to the world of the narrative(s). This should give some indication how resistance is

manifest in this connection and in how far this connection is relevant to the novel, the narrative and

possibly literature in general.


2. The Theoretical Framework

It was many years after the linguist, literary critic, and philosopher Mikhail Mikhailovich Bakhtin

had passed away that his theories and ideas had reached Western academia. This had a number of

reasons, for example the Russian state of isolation during his time and consequent problems with

translating, amongst others. Not only did he occupy himself with locating the idea of carnival in

literature and conceptualizing the application of the chronotope to trace social developments, he

also theorized the ideas of dialogism, heteroglossia, and polyphony, analysed forms of literary

aesthetics and focussed on the ethical and moral implications of art and literature on society3. This

makes it difficult to fit him into any major field of research or theory. His most famous and widely

received assumptions were those of the carnival (inspired by the writings of Rabelais) and the idea

of the chronotope, an element he argues forms any part of literary production and can be used to

identify social developments. In essence, it can be utilised as an anthropological tool, with its focus

on how time and space are represented in fictional texts. These two theories fit well into the text I

am analysing as they fulfil many of the elements that constitute carnival in its most basic terms,

while producing an extremely interesting chronotope as backdrop for this carnival. Although the

two theories are not intrinsically linked – the chronotope is always part of carnival, but not

necessarily vice versa – I will attempt to use the novel as the site in which to conjoin both part in

equal measure and thus possibly create a new way of reading the story of Toloki, and thus

producing alternative ways of applying Bakhtinian concepts to literary texts.

2.1. The Basics of Carnival

Throughout this paper I will make use of two important, but not always connected, concepts

formulated by the Russian theorist, linguist, philosopher, and literary critic, Mikhail Bakhtin. The

first approach relevant for my analysis of Mda's novel, Ways of Dying, is that of the carnival.

Although this term has many forms and its content and manifestations vary from culture to culture,

Bakhtin focuses on the historic European carnival of the 16th century. According to him, this form

belongs to “the folk”4 - a broad and unspecific collection of what can be considered as the everyday

people, usually those of the lower social strata. These usually celebrated these feasts in cycles, for

example during harvest periods, religious feasts (before Lent), or to commemorate historic events.

During these feasts, hierarchies were suspended, definitions and limits were nullified and

3 His works include many areas of interest, such as carnival, the chronotope, the speech act, aesthetic responsibility, and ontology. He also

(supposedly) published under the various names (such as Voloshinov and Medvedev), furthering his field of application.4 Bakhtin uses this term quite broadly. It may refer to any group of people not belonging to either the ruling classes or being part of the religious

institutions.


institutions of the state were mocked and ridiculed. Another important feature was the location of

these feasts – usually on church squares or areas close to the church.

What I have explained so far are the formal requirements of what Bakhtin considers to be

carnivalesque. But what some critics and theorists considered as merely being a pressure valve for

those social groups oppressed by the repressive state apparatuses5 was for Bakhtin of high cultural

and symbolic worth. He argues that every act, every thought, every form of participation was

infused with rejection and contempt for official institutions. Bakhtin defines carnival and its power

to redefine as “the true feast of time, the feast of becoming, change, and renewal. It was hostile to

all that was immortalized and completed” (Rabelais 10). In other words, carnival not only has the

potential for change, it is unable not to do so. Bakhtin therefore takes an act considered as

necessary for the maintenance of social hierarchies and social cohesion and interprets it as a near-

revolutionary occurrence, as its direct opposite or antithesis. Let us take a closer look at how he

reaches this conclusion, taking into account the various resistant units and supporting these not only

with the Russian theorist’s thoughts and ideas, but also with those by contemporary theorists.

The analysis of how carnival functions cannot be answered without considering the

individual parts that make up the whole. The first point of reference must obviously be the

participants. It is they who carry the energies of carnival and it is also they who are the most

important cog in the machine that is of such interest for Bakhtin. I have already made the mistake

of referring to the participants as such – an impossibility in the world of the carnivalesque. The

participants are both participant and spectator (Rabelais 7); they create the spectacle they

participate in. David Edgar (1987) explains it quite well, focussing on the dissolution of borders:

“The site of carnival is in real space, in the actual social landscape, where

the act of stepping off the pavement into the street transforms a spectator on

the sidelines into a part of the action. And this flexibility is bound up with

the second important characteristic of carnival, which is that despite its

overall coherence, its structure can accommodate and embrace all variety of

manifestations at every level of development and sophistication: the most

elaborate costumes are cheek by jowl with makeshift cardboard masks; the

most elegant street orchestra (or most effectively amplified reggae band)

competes with the solo fiddler on the violin or the child on the kazoo.” (8)

As one can already gather, this forms the basis what Bakhtin considers as the initial

opposition to official culture, which cannot survive without rigid definitions and control of

knowledge and meaning. However, this control also extends further into the symbolic order of

material things, such as food, drink, the body (and its extensions as well as excretions and

secretions) but can also extend into the abstract, such as hierarchies, meaning, identity and so forth.

5 Terry Eagleton and Anatoly Lunacharvsky are just two theorists who share this opinion.


It is of utmost importance to keep in mind that when Bakhtin designed his theory, he transplants

carnival's elements from the actual feast, and relocates them in the literature produced after the 16th

century, most notably in the French writer François Rabelais' narratives involving the two giants

Gargantua and Pantagruel. He asserts that the carnival elements of the 16th century, when they were

at their height, essentially form and compose Rabelais' narratives. Bakhtin further argues that

Rabelais' novels are the last literary product to make use of the pure carnival forms and their

regenerative energies. Nevertheless, it is precisely these elements I want to discuss. I therefore

believe that the body, the most visible site of carnival must be looked at.

Bakhtin, because of his – and carnival's – aversion to definition and compartmentalization of

meaning, does not immediately differentiate between the individual and social body. This may take

the form of loose associations, which take full form in a carnival atmosphere (“the ancient folkloric

analogy between the female organ and an open wound”)6, as a metaphor for the ability to transcend

death (“death is not a negation of life seen as the great body of all people but part of life as a whole

– its indispensable component, the condition of its constant renewal and rejuvenation”)7, or

focussing on bodily functions (excrement “combines the grave and birth in their highest, most

comic, least terrifying form”)8. The first aspect of carnival that seems oppositional to official

culture which I want to spend some time on is the expulsion of bodily fluids9. Kristeva argues that

these human expulsions, whether they are semen, urine or faeces, are essential in the maintenance

of basic human life. This fact is deeply entrenched in the biological workings of living organisms,

necessitating life through the process. What makes this carnivalesque for Bakhtin is manifold.

Firstly, it allows for those who belong in the so-called lower stratum to live and exist as 'whole'

beings, combining that which is high (the head, the heart) with that which is low (the womb, the

anus, the genital organs). Here, the body becomes the anti-metaphor for the sterility and emptiness

of high and official culture. The second function for these bodily processes becomes apparent when

one considers how stagnant official culture is (considering laws, aesthetics, formalities, etc.) and the

ever-changing, ever-existing folk/ carnival culture. The basic need to survive is interpreted, not only

by Bakhtin, as the survival of “the people” and therefore them outliving the laws, aesthetics and

formalities imposed by those in power. The body of the individual participant/ spectator becomes

the antonym for the survival of all of the carnival and folkloric elements. The process of expulsion

is of course directly linked to the idea of (excessive) consumption, the most life-affirming action

undertaken by man.

6 The Dialogic Imagination (190)

7 Rabelais and His World (50)

8 Rabelais and His World (166)

9 Julia Kristeva refers to this as “the abject”, defining it as “which is cast off” and includes sweat, vomit, urine, and so forth. See her Power of

Horror for a deeper analysis of this idea.


2.1.1. The Demise of Carnival

There of course have been attempts to disturb the energies responsible for carnival. One must just

look at the attempts to control certain elements that are vital to its workings. Although Bakhtin

points to certain developments concerning the reigning in of the freedoms offered by carnival10, I

would like to point to more concrete and social developments that might be responsible for this

slow potency11. The introduction of sewerage systems and hospitals began diminishing the

regenerative powers of the lower regions of human anatomy. Bodily charges are sanitized and

replaced by hygiene. The liberation of the free body is slowly being reigned in; bodily functions are

being made central to official public. Hospitals start collecting blood, test stools and urine samples.

These fluids loose their power due to the need to define their functions, to control their excretion

and flow. They stop being part of the body and become part of the abstract realm of ideology. They

are removed from the space of personal body functions and enter the dictionary as a definition.

They become instruments that control their host, supported by science, law and social contracts.

Foucault's words “[t]he imperative of health: at one the duty of each and the objective of all” (170)

in essence describes this movement. The excrement and the urine are not seen as symbols that

affirm life, but become disgusting human by-products that need to be flushed away. The lower

stratum is slowly and effectively devoid of the power it initially possessed. Folk culture is divorced

from the parts that were the most potent representations of its will not only to survive, but to live, to

be alive.

Official culture introduced further systems to control carnival such as prisons and asylums.

Here, the elements of carnival that were dangerous to the ruling elite could easily be contained

under the name of the law. The fool is one of the most important participants, speaking truth and

non-truth simultaneously, using language that is purely folk and carrying all of its meaning and

energy. This double-speak is also one of carnival's most important tools to dislocate official

meaning and simultaneously critique and ridicule this culture. The fool also usually symbolically

usurps power from the king, as inversion – of hierarchies and priorities – is part of the totality that

is carnival. Those in power are now the ones existing in a powerless bubble in which nothing is

bound to their control. Everything is removed from its original meaning, defeating that which is

stable and fixed. Here, in this world within a world, the fool is the king. But by denouncing the fool

as crazy and incomprehensible, it was easy to contain him. People like the fool were put away in

asylums for the insane. Again, a free element of carnival is bound to reality by official definitions

10 To quote Bakhtin: “On the one hand the state encroached upon festive life and turned it into a parade; on the other hand these festivities were

brought into the home and became part of the family's private life.” (Rabelais 33)11

A collection of works by Michel Foucault (Madness and Civilization, The History of Sexuality, The Birth of the Clinic) would support both

Bakhtin's assertion, but even more so mine.


and constraints. The dangerous element of the fool is locked away and unable to spread his words

and therefore folk knowledge.

Going hand-in-hand with the asylum is of course the jail. Once again law is the easiest way

of containing the single parts that give life to carnival. Those groups of people who do not agree

with public rules (where and when to copulate, where to defecate/ urinate, what to say/ not to say)

could now also be removed. Public nudity, public defecation/ urinating, and drunken behaviour

were all charges one could be locked away for. This found its pinnacle in charges such as

blasphemy and treason against King and State, usually ending with death by execution. As with the

hospital and sewerage works, the body of the carnival participant – and by extension, the body of

carnival – is controlled (especially the nether regions) as are his modes of expression and identity

construction. It therefore makes sense that Bakhtin postulates that the power of the folk –

experienced through laughter – looses its potency as from the Renaissance era. Official culture has

started to restrict carnival and its expressions, enforcing its definitions and structures – and with this

limits and therefore an endpoint.

2.2. The Chronotope

The term initial made its appearance in Bakhtin’s world when A.A. Ukhtomskii used it in one of his

lectures12, attended by Bakhtin. Chronotope – for those who are not all too familiar with the Greek

language – can be translated as “time space” (from chronos = time, and topos = space). This term is

especially important for the world of literary studies, as no narrative, however simple or complex,

can exist outside these two physical and simultaneously abstract, entities. The chronotope basically

tracks and tries to determine the relationship between space and time, in which time is most cases

the dominant unit. Bakhtin explains the chronotope as “the intrinsic connectedness of temporal and

spatial relationships that are artistically expressed in literature” (Dialogic Imagination 84). He starts

to trace the chronotope starting from Greek antiquity and ends his examination with the study of

Rabelais and the concept of the carnival.

Throughout his examination of the chronotope, Bakhtin notices certain qualities changing in

literature and traces these changes directly to this intrinsic relationship between space and time.

Originally, time was a stagnant concept. It had no bearing on the narrative in terms of character

development or change to the physical world within the narrative. Cities and countries stay

practically identical. The excessive use of temporal markers such as “suddenly”, “one moment”,

“unexpectedly”, and “without warning” all indicate the high relevance of chance within these plots.

12 This is confirmed by both Ivanov (“Dialogue and Carnival”) and Dentith (Bakhtinian Thought) although this is contrasted with the position taken

by Bakhtin himself, stating in The Dialogic Imagination that he had heard it first during a lecture by Einstein on his Theory of Relativity.


Throughout time, however, this relationship between stagnant time and relatively static space (the

Greek epics that he looked at included a lot of travel and movement by the characters) altered

thanks to a new force infused into time and space. The connectedness was strengthened and

fortified, time had a larger influence on space and therefore also changed the mechanics of the

narrative13. What is important for my discussion is the very basic but infinitely complex

assumption, as Lachmann, Eshelman, and Davis (1988-1989) put it, “carnival culture has no telos”

(135). This is a specific quality that the chronotope allows when it is fused with the regenerative

and anti-official energies that Bakhtin attributes this process.

2.3. The Assumption

What lies at the heart of Bakhtin's concept of carnival is its utter and complete opposition to

definitions and structure. It is therefore not just unnecessary to define it, but more importantly, it is

impossible. But there is a way of putting one's finger on this very slippery and reluctant term by

firstly understanding it's relationship to ideology and time in its most abstract terms.

In order for an ideology to be accepted and pushed forward, it needs to have a telos, a point

in time that it is working towards. Of course every ideology has its own telos but the basic premise

of each of these is to reach a certain goal. Definitions and structures are needed to support and

sustain these desires to reach this specific endpoint, the goal. Examples would include

Communism's classless society, Christian religion's Judgement Day or science's ability to overcome

all of man's problems. This would by definition imply that ideologies do not exist in space (i.e. in a

physical form) but are bound by time (“One day...”). Of course there are attempts of planting the

abstract ideology in reality and giving it form and substance. One physical attempt at creating the

manifestations of a (dominant) ideology usually takes the form of what Bakhtin calls “official

culture”. Laws, art, the documentation of history and knowledge, as well as the control of public

space are examples of “official culture”. So far I have merely listed some of the elemental

components for the functioning of any ideology, but I have yet to juxtapose this to carnival. My

understanding of this concept is related to my understanding of ideology, so this step was necessary

in order to make certain links and assumptions.

Now that the foundation for my explanation has been dug out, I will link the above-

mentioned elements to the idea of Carnival. If one is to believe Bakhtin, Carnival is the purest

expression of “folk culture”, in direct opposition to the “official culture”. It is in the world of

carnival that the people who do not participate in “official culture” are able to reverse the social

13 For a detailed discussion of the progression of the chronotope, see the chapter “Forms of Time and of the Chronotope in the Novel: Notes towards

a Historical Poetics” in Bakhtin's The Dialogic Imagination.


hierarchy. This of course has its roots in the Renaissance, a time where a King's authority was

adjudged to be supreme. During carnivals, organised around a certain space, the 'common people'

were able to laugh at state and church without the fear of retribution. This not only empowered

them but also created a vacuum of power and definitions. Bakhtin did not accept that that carnivals

served as an outlet for the anger the people might have against the ruling elite. He however argues

that these carnivals had a greater influence, pushing boundaries because of its unwillingness to bow

to any authority. He attributes the lower sphere of the human (the bowels, the genitals and the anus)

with a regenerative power, hosting both concepts of life and death. Limits and definitions are

continuously being renegotiated.

I can now finally make the link between Bakhtin's concept of carnival and the function of

ideology: carnival is the perfect antithesis to the concept of ideology. Firstly, it has no telos14. There

is no goal, no aim, no endpoint to Carnival. Although its function is to oppose the dominant culture

in at a certain point in time and in a certain space, the telos is missing. It is an idea that only exists

in cycles. This, according to Bakhtin this its most damaging crutch, the only real negative to

accompany carnival:

“cyclicity is a negative feature, one that limits the force and ideological

productivity of this time. The mark of cyclicity, and consequently of cyclical

repetitiveness, is imprinted on all events occurring in this type of time. Time's

forward impulse is limited by the cycle. For this reason even growth does not

achieve an authentic 'becoming'” (Dialogic Imagination 210)

He is arguing that because of carnival still exists in real time, it cannot escape its subordination to

this time. The event, however, is not weakened in the period of the festivity itself but only through

its potentially continuous repetition.

Secondly, if it has no telos, it has no ideology. Because it has no point in the future to work

towards, it exists in a permanent and perpetual “now and here”. It cannot move forward because it

does not allow itself to move forward. In order for it to have a direction, it needs limiting factors

that force it in that direction. Instead of being a boundless burst of energy, it would become a river

constricted by its banks (definition, rigid structures, etc.). This would be completely contrary to the

basic definition of carnival (as Bakhtin would have it).

Thirdly, if there is no telos, no ideology, then there is also no function for time. Carnival

exists outside of time, alive only through chance and randomness. Because it lacks all of these

characteristics to make it a linear and ordered movement, it can liberate itself from definitions,

limits and structures. This would explain carnival's obsession with death, the ultimate concept of

14 I am not the first to represent this position, see Lachmann, Eshelman and Davis use this in their essay “Bakhtin and Carnival: Culture as Counter-

Culture”. They however do not take the same route in order to reach this outcome.


non-definition. Death in its material form can be celebrated because it creates life again. But the

revolutionary act contained in this celebration is the celebration of infinity, endlessness, of there

being no real end.

2.4. The Garden Analogy

In order to explain Bakhtin's concept of carnival and chronotope and how they could possibly

function within my application, I would like to propose the analogy of a garden. This will take the

form of fictional representations of gardens, as Bakhtin applies the ideas of carnival and chronotope

to fictional texts. The official-ideological garden will take the form of a Kafkaesque garden

landscape, with all its bureaucratic and legislative elements. I will however not only refer to these

but also the repressive elements situated in this garden as well as labyrinth that all of these elements

seem to create.

The anti-official, anti-ideological garden will be represented by fantastical-like scenery –

found in Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night's Dream, Lewis Carroll's Alice in Wonderland, or the

woods and forests found in fairytales in which fantasy and non-definition play the most prominent

parts. This garden would share some elements with the other garden or amplify them, yet these

topoi do not represent carnival in its totality. The comparison will start with a description of what I

consider to be this so-called Kafkaesque garden, juxtaposed by the Alice in Wonderland type

scenery. It is however important to understand as well as to take note that this analogy is not part of

Bakhtin's explanation or definition of the two terms I am discussing. It merely serves as a tool I am

utilizing in order to make clear the dynamics and mechanics of these two terms and possible ways

of identifying how they might perform in a fictional text.

2.4.1. The official-ideological Kafkaesque Garden

Imagine a garden, surrounded by iron fences, a gate controls the flow of people entering and

leaving. There may be a man or woman, sitting on a chair next to the entrance, asking for

donations, a permit or identity documents. There are signs that indicate which part of the garden is

accessible and inaccessible (due to renovations, construction, unauthorized entry, etc.). Some areas

are only open to the public upon payment or permit. Small paths take the visitors from flowerbed to

flowerbed, from tiny exhibit to water fountain, from entrance to exit. On other occasions, these

paths take you on a roundabout as the renovations and construction works change the way of the

path without any prior indication. On special days there will be concerts, performances or

festivities, all organised by – or in partnership with – those who control the garden. Again, there


will be those who are allowed to be there and those who will be excluded. Those who control the

garden will also control who enters. And exits. The flowerbeds are kept perfectly sterile, they show

no signs of decay, decomposition, death or disturbance, only beauty, life, vitality and fertility. The

flowers are in a perfect straight line, colour coordinated, and surrounded by the same species of

trees sharing the same height and girth. Some flowers are arranged in beautiful patterns and

pictures, constantly monitored in order to maintain their magnificent organization. It is possible to

get lost amongst all the arrangements, statues, trees, pathways, and fountains. There are armies of

employees who take care of these arrangements, who are responsible to maintain hygiene and

cleanliness (dead plants and plant material, insects, trash and litter, dog excrement, vagabonds, etc.

must all be removed), security and order (drunkards, vandals, litterers, musicians, people stepping

on the grass, plants, etc.) and rules and regulations (who is allowed to enter the garden and when,

what the next planting exercise is, who to hire for this, etc.). All of this is financed by taxpayers,

who have no further role concerning the garden but to appreciate the splendour of what their money

is capable of. The roles are perfectly defined: the gardener gardens, the security officer maintains

order, the board makes decisions and the team responsible for trash does exactly that. There is no –

visible – death and decay, if there is, it is immediately eliminated. There is nothing outside or above

the law of the official-ideological garden, everything has its place, its function and its unmistakable

definition. When entering the garden, when stepping onto the indicated pathway or when looking at

the lay out of the garden, one becomes part of the official culture. One becomes defined, becomes

part of the legislature, becomes one of the sterile exhibits of the garden. This is the definition of the

official-ideological garden, the garden that exists only through boundaries and exclusion. Life and

its permanent aesthetic expression are at the heart of this garden, death and other life-threatening or

uncomfortable elements need to either be controlled or gotten rid of.

The chronotope of this environment seems to be a dissonant relationship between space and

time. Time takes on a grotesque form through the elimination and control of death and decay. It

seems as though the garden from yesterday, with everything that composes its make-up, is identical

to today. And by inference, it will be identical to tomorrow. Change is taken out of the equation. It

is controlled, defined. Its only function is to be suppressed. Time therefore can only remain

identical, stunted, unable to properly unfold within the area occupied by the official-ideological

space. It remains restricted within the boundaries created by bureaucracy and legislature. Space,

similarly, stays constant. The flowerbeds and paths change slightly – if at all – over time. Time only

selectively serves to complete the project that is the garden. New trees need to attain the same size

as those around them. Grass needs to grow at the same rate. The flowers need to grow quickly in

order to conform to the requirement of the pattern or image. Space seems to loose its abstract


quality. The flowers take up the same space throughout their whole existence, only to be replaced

by identical flowers. The same can be said about the trees. Once they have died, they are replaced

by the same species of tree, growing at the same angle and at the same side of the pathway. The

pathway will consistently lead the visitors from and to the same locations. The exception is of

course if the powers that be decide to relay the path, decide to give it a new feature. This is the

same situation that the idea of time faces. It is a mechanism to be controlled. Change may only

occur when the top decision makers, the powers responsible for the protection and maintenance of

the sterile garden, are replaced. But even this replacement would only change the make up of the

garden or how it is set up. It might change the layout slightly, replace some of the personnel, or add

a further section. The overall concept (financing, rules, aesthetic considerations, etc.) will most

probably stay the same or become even more concentrated. Even a changes decided upon cannot

release time and space from their restrictive shackles. They are not freed from their predefined

roles. They are not released from their monotonous existence and development. Change in any way

can only replaces the old shackles with new ones. As long as the garden exists in laws, rules and

regulations, it can only restrict. Not only those who visit or those who are responsible, but also the

elements that seems to be outside the grasp of human interference.

2.4.2. The anti-ideological, anti-official Fantastical-like Garden

Let us follow this initial garden correlation by contrasting it with possible garden scenario in an

Alice in Wonderland-type environment. The example should serve as the opposite of the garden just

mentioned. In this scenario, I am not referring directly to the garden from any novel, but I am using

the examples (although incomplete) to point out qualities that Bakhtin might have been able to

make use of in his theory or theories. Imagine a garden without a fence, no gate to control the flow

of people, animals or magical beings entering and leaving. The fence becomes obsolete because due

to its function, it already defines, confines and excludes. Movement becomes free, uncontrolled,

and uncontrollable. No security guards are there to direct the flow of people, or animals. No laws

are there to regulate who goes where. This is extended to the patterns and pictures the flowerbeds of

the official-ideological garden – there are none. Plants and trees are allowed to grow and sprout

unrestrained and unchecked. Insects, small animals (rats, mice, rabbits, squirrels, etc.) are allowed

to rummage between the flora, eating at the leave, stems and fruits. They appear to be fat due to the

abundance of food material at their disposal. These food materials are excreted amongst the plants,

creating fertile grounds for new plants to sprout and blossom. Dead plant matter and plants provide

support for this fertile ground. The stench of decay and decomposition is mingled with that of the


sweet odours exuded from the budding flowers, broken bark and ripe fruits. But no one is there to

decide who or what eats these fruits or enjoys the sweet odours (or stench, depending on one's

predilections), or when. There is no one or nothing that controls which odours are allowed or

rejected. Trees grow next to each other, into each other, over each other. The falling leaves serve as

homes to little bugs, as protection from rain for ants, as food for the competing trees. The

appreciating spectator becomes part of the ecosystem, carrying small seedlings from A to B,

stepping on smaller plants and flowers, killing them (remember: there are no designated pathways,

there are no forbidden areas, there is only the garden) and adding to the generative capacity of the

living soil, tearing out flowers and planting them somewhere else. The visitor pees and shits

wherever he wants, mixing his bodily excretions and secretions with that of the animals and dead

plants. The visitor becomes landscape artist, gardener, and connoisseur of the garden environment.

The difference between man and animal is diffused, the borders are dissolved. Difference does not,

and cannot, exist because the garden does not allow it. The only authority in this scenario is

indefinition, unrestriction. Understanding is not necessary, only doing. Death and decay exist side

by side with life, creation and destruction are part of the same cosmos, the one inseparable from –

and necessary for – the existence of the other. The process of living and dying is a constant one,

unregulated and unconstrained. The one begins when the other ends. The nuts from the tree serve to

feed and fatten the squirrel. A decaying squirrel becomes the substance the ants need to feed their

larvae. This is in essence what Bakhtin looks for in the idea of carnival, the undefined, uncontrolled

energies of life, of which death is an essential part. But this is not all. Excess, in the form of

freedom, of consumption, of secretion and excretion, of destruction and creation, of food, drink,

faeces, urine, blood, anything corporal, fuels this garden. In this garden – the direct opposite of the

official-ideological garden, which can only survive due to its insistence on constraints and control –

fluidity and “indefinition” are the engines that drive carnival. This idea is transferable to the

concept of the chronotope, in which the relationship between time and space is the focal point.

Space becomes abstracted, as there are no physical or real boundaries. The garden is everything,

i.e., it is the world. It contains everything, therefore everything is included. Boundaries can only

exist if these are defined as such, which is rejected within this garden. Even the participants in this

scenario, who are mostly unaware that they are participating in this to-and-fro of life and death and

the construction of the actual landscape, cannot fit a certain category. Therefore space, as a physical

and containing term, is undefined. Time in itself becomes a marker but is effused into infinity. The

explanation is quite simple. As long as there is life, there is death. And as long as there is death,

there must be life. Food, the life-giving force derived from death (killing animals, harvesting

plants) is expelled as excrement and is then transformed into the substance that can give life to new


plants or even life forms (offspring, bacteria, fungi). Time therefore becomes a marker that

measures the progression from life to death (from birth to death – years, decades, centuries, etc.) or

from death to life (plants on a compost heap, fungi and bacteria cultures). But because of the

carnival elements, time also becomes an abstract term, a quantity without end, a measurement

without fixed endpoint. This is what carnival ultimately celebrates – the timelessness of time. In

essence, the anti-ideological, anti-official garden thus becomes the ultimate chronotope: it has both

elements of time and space but these function entirely independently from each other due to their

infinity.

The two gardens serve to explain Bakhtin's theories through analogy. The explanations

should have made clear that each garden represents one extreme: the official-ideological garden

stands for sterility, stagnation, and absence of time and space in their abstracted forms. Change

becomes a method of control, used in order to maintain power as it is. The anti-ideological, anti-

official garden is found at the exact opposite end of the spectrum (although, by definition, it avoids

this placement). Change is the only constant throughout its existence. Without continuous change,

this garden cannot be the garden that does not allow for control and definition. It can only function

when every constraining mechanism is subordinated to the garden. In essence, this garden is exactly

what freedom is supposed to be defined as, liberated from repression, control and definition. The

challenge that I am facing, by using this framework for my primary text, is to find the markers that

prove that the narrative in Ways of Dying actually do fit my conception of the two Bakhtinian

theories. It is my task to prove that the narrative does abstract time and space while looking for

anti-ideological and anti-official elements along the way. This already takes away what I am trying

to achieve: to attribute a constant application and utilization of carnival and simultaneously apply

the chronotope to the novel, while finding ways in which the characters, and the formal make-up of

the novel, remain resistant and rejective of the official culture.


3. The Context(s)

In the previous sub-chapters, I have created a framework with of Bakhtin's important theories

relevant for my proposed thesis. It is helpful to briefly create some sort of context in order to

properly introduce these two approaches to the novel of Ways of Dying. I will give a brief summary

of the novel, so the plot line and narrative are not completely alien. A partial discussion of the (very

vague) time and place forms a further attempt at contextualizing the narrative. Although the time

frame is clearly stated and easily identified, it is the period that is difficult to assess. The same can

be said for the place in which Toloki and Noria's story unfolds as there are not specific names to the

locations within the novel. This allows for the possible interpretation that the violence and the

control of official culture are not tied down to one place or region but are as omnipresent as the

carnival that opposes this control. Furthermore, it also might indicate that this violence is not

merely part of a short-lived era but has become part of the social and geographic landscape. It is

with these assumptions in mind that the context(s) is/ are created. Of course, the summary and

overview cannot be completed without referring to the institutions that can or must be considered as

the official culture of the time. Here I will give examples of what institutions might be considered

as official. Nevertheless, not every official institution can be mentioned. A framework that serves to

identify these institutions should suffice in order to identify and locate these official powers.

3.1. The Summary

The main character in the novel is Toloki. He is described as a “Professional Mourner” (Mda 4) and

spends most of his days at cemeteries, mourning for the dead with those left behind. This is also

how he earns his money, usually in the form of donations. It is at one of these funerals where he

meets Noria, a “homegirl” (Mda 8) - a girl or woman from Toloki's village – he has not seen for

many years. Over the course of a week, spanning from Christmas Day until New Year's Eve, these

two rekindle their childhood friendship. Their friendship is fuelled by the desire to teach the other

partner “how to live” (Mda 106). Throughout the novel, the reader is confronted with the violence

that has taken over the South Africa inhabited by Mda's characters, especially the areas that lie

outside the cities, referred to as “settlements”. This is also where most of the framing narrative

takes place. This narrative is however pierced and interrupted with flashbacks. These are told from

the perspective of a witness-narrator “which primarily recounts the past of Toloki and Noria's rural

community and their move to the city” (Knapp 62). Only after Toloki has had an altercation with

his father, Jwara, and Noria has decided to leave her home, do they start their new lives in the city.


Again these journeys are described through the use of the witness-narrator, using flashbacks. Here

they meet new and fascinating characters but are also confronted with city life under a racist and

unjust government, forcing them to live on the margins of the city as well as society. This however

does not prevent them from finding each other, happiness and a will to overcome all these

hardships, recounting a “story that is to lift the marginalised sections of society from their 'culture

of silence'” (Knapp 57).

3.2. The Place

In the beginning of my brief summary of the novel, I have mentioned that the novel itself

does not indicate where the narrative takes place. There are, however, indicators that allow at least

for an estimate of the place. Firstly, there are certain symbols specific to South Africa that appears

throughout the novel. These are usually found through the use of language (for example “ou

toppie”, “izincwe, the gob of desire”, “thithiboya caterpillar”, or “skoroskoro”). Another indicator

is the use of cultural singularities, such as the hair cutting after the funeral, the mentioning of the

village chief as well as the function of the Nurse at the funerals. One is further told that Toloki lives

in a “waiting-room”, which is “at the quayside”. It is also mentioned that he goes to the beach to

wash himself. This connotes that the story takes place in a town or city that is close to the sea and

must therefore be a South Africa harbour town or city. It is possible to argue that it is a city because

it is referred to such on numerous occasions. Nonetheless, there is no distinctive marker as to

discern which city it is exactly, but the absence of any prominent marker is quite significant. The

major port cities in South Africa all have distinct or prominent landmarks (such as Cape Town's

Table Mountain or Waterfront, or Durban's high rise buildings directly in front of the beach). One

could therefore interpret this to mean that the coastal town is not to be one of the major harbour

cities.

The narrative does however not just take place within the confines of the city, but changes

location numerous times. Throughout the novel, there is mention of the mountain village, the

village that Noria and Toloki used to live in, the town close to the village, some of the places that

Toloki and Noria lived in before their arrival in the city, and finally the informal settlement. One

therefore cannot argue for one unitary place or space. The over-arching topos for the whole novel

does remain South Africa and with it everything that was happening at that time, spread over the

whole country. The presence of death, violence, official culture, carnival, and resistance are

therefore South African phenomena, not tied down to only one place. The experiences of Toloki and

Noria become representative for the whole country.


3.3. The Time

A further category that is left indistinct is the time of the events in the novel. One is told that

the narrative begins on Christmas (this is the day chosen for the funeral which Toloki attends and

meets Noria), while the end of the novel occurs simultaneously with the end of the year. The year,

though, is not mentioned. But just like the anonymity of the place, the time of year can still be

worked out or approximated. There are small details that could give some indication as to when

about the story of Toloki and Noria unfolds. This is displayed for instance in the hopeful and

confident look to the future that the characters share. From this fact alone one is able to discern that

Apartheid – highly represented through the excessive violence and inter-group resentment – is

coming to an end and that change in a political and social landscape is taking place. Or the fact that

the citizens are allowed to form political groups and parties who represent those previously without

a voice, which was forbidden under Apartheid. Another significant event is the presence of “the

leaders of the political movement”, a possible place holder for the banned A.N.C. They appear at

the funeral of Noria's son. Their open and public appearance also indicates to a time in which the

current regime and its oppressive institutions and apparatuses are slowly being dismantled. If the

political movement is to be the A.N.C., then this would coincide with their unbanning and

subsequent release of the incarcerated members. Another one of the most crucial signifiers of the

approximate time is the power struggle between the local groups, each trying to profit from the

slow and obvious demise of the repressive system of Apartheid. It allows for the assumption that

there is now a power vacuum due to the fall of the current regime and that those left outside the

structures of control and governance are now struggling to fill that vacuum with their own ideas on

how to run the state. Rita Barnard has argued that Ways of Dying is “[s]et in the violent years

between the unbanning of the resistance movements and the inauguration of the democratically

elected ANC government” (279), using similar markers of the social and political situation as I

have. If one is to believe and agree with Adrian Knapp's, the year in which Toloki and Noria find

each other again is to be found in “the period of political transition between 1990 and 1994” (57).

This assertion basically echoes the period Barnard has mentioned.

3.4. The Official Culture(s)

“It is necessary to destroy and rebuild the entire false picture of the world, to

sunder the false hierarchical links between objects and ideas, to abolish the

divisive ideational strata. It is necessary to liberate all these objectives and

permit them to enter into the free unions that are organic to them, no matter

how monstrous these unions might seem from the point of view of ordinary,


traditional associations. These objects must be permitted to touch each other

in all their living corporeality, and in the manifold diversity of the values

that they bear. It is necessary to devise new matrices between objects and

ideas that will answer to their real nature, to once again line up and join

together those things that had been falsely disunified and distanced from one

another – as well as to disunite those things that had been falsely brought

into proximity.” (Dialogic Imagination 169)

If there is one quality, and one quality only, that defines carnival, it is its resistance to official

culture15. In order to comprehend in how far the carnival atmosphere in Ways of Dying is able to

reproduce this resistance, it is equally important to define what, in this case, constitutes official

culture. Bakhtin defines it as being “founded on the principle of an immovable and unchanging

hierarchy in which the higher and the lower never merge” (Rabelais 166). In this case, the novel

reveals numerous loci in which this definition is realised. Initially, it focuses on the idea of the

holidays, days in which deaths occur but no funerals are allowed. A second instance is the presence

of the church (or its derivations) and its followers. These are accompanied by social institutions

such as the hospital, the police officers, the military. Even the political movement, that is fighting

for the independence of “the folk” from the Apartheid system become agents of official culture, just

as Nefolovhodwe becomes his own institution. Official culture seems to be everywhere (if the

Bakhtinian definition is to be used), which means that carnival must become as present or even

more present in order to counter official culture's stale, sterile and stagnant nature. Although

Bakhtin focuses his attention on the bodily functions of excretion and copulation, as well as the

ideas of birth-death-rebirth, I will use similar, yet slightly different categories in which I discuss the

opposition of the carnival to official culture. I have named some examples for manifestations of this

so-called official culture. One must however remember that not all official culture is part of the

Apartheid system. It is merely this system of absolution and extreme constriction that creates the

space in which official culture(s) can be fully explored and developed. It is as Mbembe puts it in his

essay “Necropolitics”, “power (and not necessarily state power) continually refers to and appeals to

exception, emergency, and a fictionalized notion of the enemy. It also labors to produce that same

exception, emergency, and fictionalized enemy” (“Necropolitics” 6). If applied to the novel, power

in this case is every institution, every group, and every individual that attempts to define their own

position and the position of others within the context of Apartheid South Africa using categories of

friend-enemy, good-evil, useful-useless and so forth. The example of Toloki, who seems to offer no

real service to either those that mourn (“We have enough of our own mourners”/ “We can mourn

just as well”) or to society at large (through taxes, through communal work, political activism, etc.),

shows that these processes of categorisation cannot function in a space in which there is no real

15 This is the thread that runs through Bakhtin's works and also is the subject of other ideas where carnival is the direct opposite of the official culture

(Mbembe, Barnard, Hakim Bey)


certainty. Therefore power, as Mbembe sees it, is the ability to define and locate and then fix

meaning. This is the challenge that is given everybody who not only wants to challenge Apartheid,

but all of its protrusions, its tentacles, and extensions as well. Only by looking at how successful the

carnivalesque elements are free to function can one therefore assess in how far power structures

(also within the oppressed communities) are challenged. Only by challenging everything that is

fixed, immobile, serious, dogmatic and polished, can carnival really liberate.


4. The Characters

As I have argued in my introduction that it is of high importance to examine the characters. This

should assist in understanding how they are part of the carnival theme and how they are affected by

their chronotopes. Also, it is important to follow through with this examination in order to track the

change and resistance happening throughout the novel. One must also keep in mind Bakhtin's

assertion that the participants of the carnival “built a second world and a second life outside

officialdom” (Rabelais 6), creating a world in which they exist as the characters of Toloki, Noria

and narrator, and a world in which they exist as not-Toloki, not-Noria, and not-narrator. As soon as

they exit the “real” world, the world of definition, limitation and officialdom, do they also realize

their second self. Hiebert (2003) argues this as follows:

“[T]hough the carnival does subvert a social hierarchy, it also functions as

the simultaneous subversion of one's own place in these structures...Not a

stepping out of the roles one normally plays, but a stepping into a role that

mocks the limitations normally imposed upon oneself, limitations that one

both upholds and subverts in carnival participation. It is a necessarily

participatory attitude that thus accompanies the carnival, at least in the sense

that one always performs both the subject and object of carnival critique:

'the people's festive laughter is also directed at those who laugh'” (114)

Toloki is the prime site of carnival, with his external markers (his profession, his costume

and physique). His connection to death is ever-present, reaching as far as his body odour, facial

features and the people surrounding him. This is central to understanding his connection to carnival

and its potential as resistant force. Noria, on the other, represents completely different aspects that

one could interpret as carnivalesque, with focus on her connection to men, laughter, and especially

procreation, a central point of interest for Bakhtin. She also undergoes the most distinct and

noticeable transformation. This is directly linked to the carnivalesque aspects I have mentioned.

Finally, the 'character' that makes all of these analyses possible – the “witness-narrator” - also needs

to be put through the same examination as his objects of focus. Due to the self-reflective and

omnipresent nature of the narrator, it becomes the space in which the carnival within the novel is

allowed to unfold.

These are of course not the only carnival characters, not by far. There is Rubber Face

Sehole, who makes people laugh – mainly Noria – by pulling faces. This has comic, grotesque, and

carnivalesque dimensions (his face becomes a mask, a function, always changing, having no 'real'

form). Or more prominently, Nefolovhodwe, the rags-to-riches man who makes his money through

the death of others. He, like Toloki surrounds himself with death as well, but he has divorced


himself from its true meaning. To him the focus of death is profit, perverting it from its potentially

regenerative and positive powers. He is also a carnival character Bakhtin calls “grotesque statue of

the glutton” (Rabelais 156), the antithesis of Toloki and his convictions. That Mountain Woman can

also be classed as a carnival character through her abusive language and curses, for example “the

product of a botched abortion” (Mda 66), or “Are you a man or just something that someone left

behind when they squatted in the donga?” (73), both being deeply connected to the lower stratum

with its bowels and the womb. She also dies from cancer of the womb, linking her to important

features that Bakhtin identifies as vital for carnival. This abundance of characters actually serves to

strengthen the idea that there is a carnival culture inherent in the novel, spread amongst most – but

not all – characters.

4.1. Toloki the Professional Mourner

4.1.1. Toloki as the Fool

It is imperative that the first instance in which to test Bakhtin's carnival theory is to apply it

to the person most overtly influenced and constructed according to carnival prerequisites. This is

the character of Toloki. Many of the qualities Bakhtin attributes to the fool and the clown can be

directly linked to Toloki. When Bakhtin defines the fool and the clown as “a man who is in life, but

not of it, life's perpetual spy and reflector” (Dialogic Imagination 161) he could have just as well

described Toloki. One of the first things one learns about Toloki is that he has fashioned his life

according to the aghori sadhu, an Indian sect. This sect is initially neither part of Africa (in which

South Africa is situated) nor is it an import from Europe (the ruling elite occupying the country in

the narrative time). Toloki has therefore rejected both possible modes of life and has chosen a path

that is outside of these two possibilities. He has further chosen a life outside his current society, he

has imposed exile upon himself. But when the witness-narrator describes Toloki's physical

appearance and decision to exile himself, he also adds “In his profession, people are paid for an

essential service that they render the community. His service is to mourn for the dead” (Mda 11).

This passage is relevant for two reasons: Firstly, it supports the qualities that Bakhtin attributes the

fool and clown. And secondly, which will become important for the further analysis, Toloki's

service benefits the living and the dead. Here he becomes the site that combines those who have

died (death) and those who are left behind (life). Instead of contrasting these supposedly opposite

poles of human existence, the Professional Mourner is the link between them.


In order to accept Toloki as the quintessential Bakhtinian fool, one must also look at how

people interact with him. His costume already indicates that he does not belong into the “normal”

society. He only wears normal clothes when he is not working, which is very seldom. Noria is

surprised when she sees him without his mourning costume (110). This would imply that Toloki is

only identifiable through the presence of his costume. Toloki therefore exists not as a person

performing a role (for example an actor on stage) but he exists through this role. A king without his

royal cloak and staff would be just as unlikely to be identified as such. Mda in this way not only

fuses the role of fool with the main character, he also does it in such a way that there are parallels

with the highest authority outside of carnival (I am focussing here on carnival elements and not real

persons or positions). A fool's function, according to Bakhtin, is to speak the people's truth. He uses

official and unofficial language and lexicon in order to create truths that the common people can

identify with. He/ she is able to do so because they are not familiar with or willing to understand

official culture, yet tend to live outside the very society the try to educate. An example of this is

when Toloki and Noria walk through the settlement after the public meeting with the leaders of the

political movement (also an example of a merger of the high and the low), he notices that women

do the work while men merely sit around and think. This leads him to the conclusion that “the

salvation of the settlement lies in the hands of women” (165). Before this conclusion, he thinks on

why he is able to detect such “truths”. He answers this question by arguing that his absence from

society lets him see things that seem normal or even necessary in that society. Noria is surprised by

his observation and confirms his own theory by declaring “You amaze me everyday, Toloki. You

come with things I don't expect” (165). This exchange serves to show how someone from outside

can inform those on the inside of the disparities of their own society. The fool is the most likely

source for these types of insights, as he exists simultaneous within and outside of official and

unofficial culture. Another example to strengthen my argument that Toloki must be identified as the

fool is his treatment by the people at the funerals. Many view him with contempt (due to his body

odour, his asocial demeanour, his extravagant attire), but some actually accept him on the basis that

he is a “madman or a joker” (125), both synonyms for a fool.

4.1.2. Toloki and Death

A second important facet of carnival that Toloki exhibits is his ambiguity concerning the

two extremities connected with life. He serves both the living and the deceased and is dependent on

both in equal measure. His services become meaningless without people dying. But just as

meaningless as his services are without the dead, he is unable to support himself without the


assistance of the living. When Noria laughs when they practice their wailing, he tells her that “I go

because I cannot live without it [death]. Not only for the money. But it is something that is in my

blood. I am an addict, Noria!” (141). Here, the absolute definitions of life and death become blurred

and porous. As Mikita Hoy (1992) asserts, “[c]arnival, according to Bakhtin represents the

'disunification of what has traditionally been linked, and the bringing together of that which has

been traditionally been kept distant and unified.' (770). This is exactly what Toloki manages to do

with his profession – although he only participates in the celebration of death and the dead, and

avoids participation in everyday life.

The first mention of Toloki is his visit to a funeral of someone he does not know. This

clearly connects him to the idea of death and funerals. He is further described as smelling “like

death” by a friend of Noria's, as having “sorrowful eyes” with shoulders that are “wide enough to

comfortably bear all the woes of bereavement”. Toloki can therefore be said to embody death, he is

its physical manifestation. Yet he is always far from it. He even makes a joke, saying using

alternative transport makes it possible to avoid his own death (88).But it is not only his profession

that qualifies him as a carnivalesque element. When describing his physical appearance, the

witness-narrator cannot avoid but describe Toloki's clothing, his “black costume and top hat” (Mda

3), which he got from a shop that “served the theatre” (21), and that the costumes were “about

worlds that did not exist anymore” (21) and “did not belong to any world that ever existed” (21).

Here the 'unworldliness' of Toloki's professional attire is testimony to him not fitting into society,

and additionally, it echoes what Rita Barnard (2004) credits the Bakhtinian carnival mask, “the

costume serves precisely the function Bakhtin attributes to the carnival mask: it is related to a

transition from the fixed, existing world to the worlds of memory and imagination” (287). Again

this serves a double meaning, at least in the novel. Although Toloki wears the costume – which he

got through the presence of his “gob of desire, another fluid that exits the body and enters the world

– he fuses the character of the costume-wearing fool and that of the hermit who expels himself from

society. Foucault argues that this expulsion in fact serves the function of gaining knowledge and an

awareness of the society as a whole. He puts it as follows:

“Once someone gains power he ceases to know. Power makes men mad, and

those who govern blind; only those who keep their distance from power,

who are in no way implicated in tyranny, shut up in their Cartesian poêle,

their room, their mediations, only they can discover the truth.” (51)

This not only helps to support Bakhtin's idea that knowledge is not necessarily the property of those

in power and in control of current ideology, but it also helps to successfully contrast the ascetic

Toloki with the pompous Nefolovhodwe and the leaders of the political movement, the tribal chief


and any character who is connected to officialdom. In essence, his self-imposed exile from society

as well as his role as a fool both protect him from being consumed by institutions, ideology,

officialdom and power structures that could possibly harm his understanding of himself and by

extension his environment. Toloki, through his decision of exile and participation, kills himself (i.e.

the old Toloki) and is also consequently able to give life to his new Toloki. His reincarnation, so to

speak, seems to have been previously hinted at. During his drunken speech at the church's pulpit, he

repeats Christ's final words. “Christ's last words on the cross sitio ('I thirst')” (Dialogic Imagination

86) are echoed by Toloki – to great applause (95). Again, he becomes the site in which life and

death are both present, neither being more prominent than the other. This idea can again be carried

over to his vocation (as he calls it). Although the bodies remain dead and the living are distraught,

his wailing and cries help to momentarily create a sphere in which both the living and the dead can

be united. As Linda Hutcheon argues, “[t]he sterility in the product is countered by the fertility of

the process.” (original emphasis 92). This is true for Toloki's exile, his identity as the fool, his

vocation and his way of seeing the world.

4.2. Noria, the Stuck-Up Bitch

4.2.1. Noria and the Womb

The reader is told that her pregnancy with her child, Vutha, lasts more than nine months –

fifteen, to be exact – which creates a space in which to question the witness-narrators account of

things, but more importantly, it creates a foreboding for the events to come. The witness-narrator

further explains that “Noria gave birth to a healthy baby boy after a pregnancy of fifteen months,

when we had long forgotten that she was pregnant as after a while we took her protruding stomach

to be the natural order of things” (Mda 74). What is peculiar about this passage is the complete

acceptance of the “protruding stomach” as a natural occurrence, meaning that Noria's pregnancy

(i.e. the creation of life) is only secondary to her physical appearance. In Rabelais and His World,

Bakhtin writes that

“[t]he stress is laid on those parts of the body that are open to the outside

world. This means that the emphasis is on the apertures or the convexities,

or on various ramifications and offshoots: the open mouth, the genital

organs, the breasts, the phallus, the potbelly, the nose. The body discloses its

essence as a principle of growth which exceeds its own limits only in

copulation, pregnancy, childbirth, the throes of death, eating, drinking, or

defecation. This is the ever unfinished, ever creating body, the link in the


chain of genetic development, or more correctly speaking, two links shown

at the point where they enter into each other.” (26)

In Noria's case, this protrusion is not merely a potbelly due to overeating, or disease, but because it

is carrying life. In this case, her protruding stomach is the epitome of the “creating body”, carrying

a life into the world and showing this off. And because the society she lives is oblivious to the

'unnatural' aspect of this stomach, and because she is not worried about the ramifications. Her body

will again be able to repeat this phenomenon. Vutha The Second will be seen as an incarnation of

the first, the stomach again producing an offspring.

The character of Noria would fit perfectly into another heading that can be found in this

paper, called “Death and Life”. This is because she is what Bakhtin has identified as “pregnant

death” (Rabelais 25), but in this case, she gives birth to death in the form of Vutha. After a

seemingly – unnoticed – eternity in his mother's womb, he dies at a very young age. He is

consumed by a pack of dogs after his father, Napu, has left him tied to a pole in order to go

drinking. As gruesome and disgusting this sounds, there are a number of carnival elements apparent

in Vutha's death. He is consumed, and so by extension his death is responsible for the life of other

even if these 'others' are a pack of dogs. The reason he has been consumed is because his father is

out consuming as well: he is getting drunk. There is a very strong link between the consuming and

being consumed, both vital elements in the chain of carnival events. Further, he is tied to a pole, an

act that one usually performs on dogs. Here, the role of tied-down animal and person are reversed

and the defining lines between animal (in this scenario free and mobile) and human (in this scenario

constricted and immobile) are shattered. And by identifying his death as carnivalesque, one cannot

avoid realising the carnivalesque nature of his birth, a extended sojourn in his mother's womb, only

to return to the “womb” (in this case the grave) quite immediately. Noria's long pregnancy can

therefore, through the understanding of carnival, be intimately linked with the (foreseeable) death

of her son. Or in other words, Vutha in this case is linked with the womb of Noria, a vital metaphor

for both human life as well as the grave.

Noria basically embodies one of the central motifs of carnival theory. This becomes evident

when Noria is contrasted with the following element, described in detail as intrinsically belonging

to carnival:

“Bakhtin conceives it [carnival] as a never-ending drama of the human

species whose main (double) agent is pregnant death/ dead pregnancy. The

figure of pregnant death, which is no longer allegory, but rather the

syllogism of a grotesque argumentation employing the rhetorical figure of

oxymoron, is at the same time a stage instruction for the dramatic corporeal


act of protruding, penetrating, expelling, dismembering, evacuating,

swallowing.” (Lachmann, Eshelman, and Davis 151)

All the events starting from Vutha's conception (penetrating), Noria's pregnancy (protruding), his

birth (expelling), his death (dismembering) and his burial (swallowing) are all linked to Noria and

therefore to the idea of the so-called “pregnant death”.

4.2.3. Noria and Laughter

Of course Noria has more to offer than being the site of birth and death16. From an early age,

actually since birth, she possesses the ability to entertain and amuse people with her laugh. Not only

that, but part of her conception was reason for village laughter and creative interpretation. During

pregnancy, her mother, That Mountain Woman, was caught having sex with a health worker. This

gave birth to the gossip that her ears were the product of the intercourse shared between her mother

and her lover. In this case, Noria is involved in numerous facets of carnival, of which she herself is

nonetheless unaware. Firstly, her conception has created a storm of mockery against her mother. In

other words, the pregnancy with Noria is cause for laughter. This has lead to the idea that there

must have been some mark left by the lover in the form of physical evidence, in this case her ears.

What is important here is the discourse between official culture (represented by the local nurses)

and the anti-official culture (represented by the people who believe this tale). Knowledge and truth

become the possession of the “the folk”, not allowing the knowledge and truth of the institutions to

taint it.

After her birth, Noria's laugh becomes cause for concern, however. The interaction with the

nurses diminishes the power of her laughter and even harms her physically.

“They said that nursemaids and babysitters used to tickle Noria for the

pleasure of hearing her laugh. This went on until her mother had to stop the

whole practice after baby Noria developed sores under armpits. After that,

when she was tickled she did not laugh but cried instead, which seemed to

spread a cloud of sadness, not only amongst those who heard her cry, but

throughout the whole mountain village. (26)

This passage is important for the fact that laughter, one of the most powerful anti-official weapons,

is misused on three levels. On one level, the recipients of the pleasurable laugh are part of the

official institution (the hospital). On another level, they force the child to laugh, therefore it cannot

be true laughter in the sense of it coming naturally. And on the third level, the laughter is enjoyed

only by a selected group of people and not shared amongst everyone. This means that the laughter

16 Rüdiger in her essay “The Ur-Chronotope” feels that this connection objectifies women as they are the only ones who are able to fit this role.


cannot be carnivalized and thus is devoid of any energy to transform positively. The juxtaposition

of intimate and pleasurable laughter and spreading sadness is the result of this.

Her laughter also has many other facets. People “feast” on her laughter, indicating that it is

something to ingest. It indicates that it must be available in abundance. It has even stronger

carnivalesque powers than merely the laughter itself and its quality of consumption. The witness-

narrator also identifies this as her power, as she could “give or withhold pleasure at will” (65). Her

laughter is thus a source of control and an opportunity for her to get what she needs. Usually, this

took the form of attention, but could also extend to material advantages. After her horrific

experiences however (the two deaths of her son, her failed marriage, death of her mother), Noria

lost the ability to laugh. This changes when Toloki re-enters her life and they form a mutually

beneficial relationship (he is conversely able to draw humans, something he was previously unable

to do). Toloki feels that he is transported back into time after he hears Noria's laugh again. “Noria

laughs. It is the innocent laughter of a child. It sounds like a distant reverberation of the laughter we

used to feast on when she was a little girl. Toloki cannot explain the ecstasy that suddenly

overwhelms him” (142-143). Here, Noria's laugh connects both of the characters to the past. As

Hoy argues, “Bakhtinian carnival brings together the crisis of the past and the present” (778). The

crisis of the past (the relationship between Noria and Jwara, from which Toloki is excluded) is in

this case however resolved in the present. They both share rekindled appreciation for each other.

The feelings of animosity that Toloki had towards Noria are replaced with a sudden and

unexplainable ecstasy. Here, Noria's laughter becomes an agent of change, making past events

liveable in the present.

4.3. The “We”-Narrator

4.3.1. The Narrators as Everybody

The witness-narrator is the epitome of the fusion of two concepts to form one. On countless

occasions, the narrator refers to him-/ herself as “we”. This allows for two different positions to be

executed through this “we-ness”. Firstly, the witness-narrator can be present at any time and at any

location due to his/ her multiplicity of witnesses. The narrated accounts all flow into the same

source, allowing for an air of omnipresence. The narrators become a collection of all the accounts

that they can witness and can therefore fill any gaps or missing information. And because of their

participation in all narrative strands, the narrators also exhibit an intimate knowledge of everything

that goes on. The witness-narrator explains him-/ herself as


[we] know everything about everything about everybody. We even know

things that happen when we are not there; things that happen behind people's

closed doors deep in the middle of the night. We are the all-seeing eye of the

village gossip. When in our culture the storyteller begins the story, “They

say it once happened...”, we are “they”. No individual owns any story. The

community is the owner of the story, and it can tell it the way it deems fit.

(8)

So, even events that happen when no one is around to observe them or when they happen in the

most private atmosphere – the witness-narrator is always there to give testimony to the events.

Secondly, because the narrative(s) are made up from various accounts (whether believable

or not), they cannot belong to one specific person (Knapp 60). Some narrative strands may be

witnessed by many observers – for example at the funerals, while other may be witnessed through

hearsay or information that is passed down – for example the episode concerning the birth of Noria.

The witness-narrator confesses that they do not and cannot know everything for sure, and that some

of the stories they have experienced take on differing accounts. An example of this is the episode

concerning That Mountain Woman

We told many stories about her, especially when woman gathered at the

river to wash clothes...The story we told every day, with colourful variations

depending on who was telling it, originally happened when she was

pregnant with Noria. (29)

Both these extracts serve to highlight the communal function of the narrators as well as questioning

the validity of the “one truth”, violently opposed by the idea of carnival. Through this method, Mda

merges the narrators with the participants, and creates a space in which absolute truth and the

imagination of the teller are unable to be separated.

4.3.2. The Narrators without Boundaries

This grants further spaces for analysis. Because of the multiple sources that the information

flows from, the truth and the validity of these sources can always be questioned. This is clearest

when the witness narrators introduce themselves to the reader, arguing that the truth – and by

extension the stories – do not belong to anyone. What one can deduce from this that it is the double

role which the narrator plays. On one hand, they are merely witnesses to the happenings concerning

the characters in the novel. On the other hand, they are also participants in the lives of the

characters. The funerals are the most overt and obvious areas of participation, yet further small

pockets of this participation do exist. For example, the narrator(s) are present when Noria shares


her laughter with everyone (26). Or when they make fun of That Mountain Woman after her

episode with the health worker (29). This is what Edgar (1987) was referring to when he argued

that borders and limitations dissolve during the carnival period. Formally, this dissolution also

takes form by blurring the boundaries between the written narrative and its oral correspondent.

Knapp argues that this merger between the two possible ways of narrating – two of many – is

necessary for remembering the narratives, focussing on the metaphors, short sentence structure and

so forth (63). In this case one could argue that the narrative is kept significantly simple so that the

listeners – who receive the information from the teller – can themselves in turn become tellers. If

this is the case, which I argue it is, the story itself becomes immortal. Just like the people who

experienced and it and passed it down. Through this two things are simultaneously achieved: the

eternal life of folk culture, as it survives through the story, and the eternal life of the folk itself

through the stories it keeps of itself.

“Rabelais connects the growth of generations with the growth of culture,

and with the growth of the historical development of mankind as well. The

son will continue the father, the grandson, the son – and on a higher level of

cultural development.” (204)

The reference of “the son” should be seen as a loose term, as a placeholder for everybody. By

passing down the story and allowing for changes and additions, the story itself becomes a metaphor

for the generations to come. The story will therefore always be part of the collective and creative

force of the folk, infused with the energies of everyone who is part of and part in the reproduction

of the story.

4.3.3. The Narrators of the Collective

Remembering the narrative and passing it on again forms another layer of how carnival functions.

Similar to the philosophy of Ubuntu, its focus is on the social, the collective, and sharing. Not only

are the experiences of Toloki and Noria shared, they are shared by those who have an interest in

their lives because of their common bond (this could be either ethnic or geographic) in a way that

can be again shared by those to whom the narratives are handed down to. So the witness-narrator

fulfils a number of necessary functions that not only facilitate the carnival environment to the

reader, but the witness-narrator simultaneously participates in this environment. The narrators are

also both anonymous and known, malicious and benevolent, present and absent. The collective is

the only attribute that one can use in order to define the narrators. By focussing every possible

attribute and quality the inhabitants of the world(s) that Toloki and Noria can move in, into this


mass of narrators, the narrators avoid any definition that can be thrust upon them through

institutions or in a formal setting. Alone this quality must qualify them to form the basis of the

carnivalesque in the novel and the subsequent interpretations.

The witness-narrator also allows a space for the two protagonists, Toloki and Noria, to deal

with past events (Knapp 57). This is made possible by the witness-narrator's close proximity to the

characters and the subsequent accompanying throughout their lives. On many levels, the witness-

narrator is just as much a legitimate character within the novel as Toloki and Noria, as they

experienced the good moments and the hardships in their lives with them (“We were happy when

they were happy. And felt their pain when they were hurt”.) They are both able to revisit their past

because they are part of a community. Even though the narrators are not directly involved with the

dialogue between Toloki and Noria, they are the people that inflicted this pain and are witnesses to

the pain being shared.


5. The Chronotope

Throughout this experiment of unifying carnival, the chronotope Ways of Dying, I have consistently

attempted to stay true to Bakhtin's theories, approaches and concepts. But while I am using these

theories, approaches and concepts, it becomes inevitable to bend and form these in order to get the

most out of the narrative, the characters, their relationships, and the setting as well as time. This is

why – contrary to what the glossary of The Dialogic Imagination defines as the chronotope17 – I am

using the basic elements of time and space as malleable and flexible ideas. The chronotope consists

of time and space, which are in a relationship in which the one is unable to function without the

other. I, however, am aiming at taking this assumption one step further and arguing that this is not

entirely the case (hence the strenuous analogy of the two gardens in Chapter 2.4 as well as the link

between ideology and carnival using the idea of the chronotope in Chapter 2.3). Time can be

abstracted as soon as it is not based on fixed concepts such as years, hours and seconds. One need

only look at personal experiences such as dreaming, remembering, fantasizing, and so forth. Here

time takes on its own form, separated from its definition as units of measurement. And this idea can

just as well be applied to the idea of space. Space tends to stay the same, it usually only changes on

the surface. The Roman Empire, the Twin Towers of New York and the battle over the Holy Land

between Palestine and Israel are all forms of locating space as a historical as well as a political unit.

Nevertheless, the space that these all take up/ took up are independent from the space they lost/ are

usurping. The lands of the Roman Empire still exist as lands, only their inhabitants, their

agricultural landscapes, the political systems, and so forth are the factors that have changed. The

physical space (the x thousand square miles) still exists today, just in a different format. The exact

space in which the Twin Towers stood is being used to rebuild these towers. The sky above Ground

Zero is still available for construction. So is the ground. Space, because it cannot be destroyed, is a

constant. It is through this endeavour to dislocate and disjoin time and space that the true

transformation and change can be understood. My basic assumption is that these two

interdependent forces can be separated by showing how one is able to transform while the other

stays immobile.

17 The glossary in The Dialogic Imagination defines the chronotope as follows: “Literally, 'time-space'. A unit of analysis for studying texts

according to the ratio and nature of the temporal and spatial categories represented. The distinctiveness of this concept as opposed to most other uses

of time and space in literary analysis lies in the fact that neither category is privileged; they are utterly interdependent. The chronotope is an optic for

reading texts as x-rays of the forces at work in the culture system from which they spring.”425-426


5.1. The Village

I will start with the discussion of the village as chronotope for a number of reasons. Firstly, it is

Toloki and Noria's initial starting point concerning their move to the city. It is also the topos that is

responsible for their relationship as well as the foundation of their characters. This would lead me

to my second reason to start with this chronotope: it is an important starting point to note the

changes that the characters have gone through (following their developments from village to city)

but it also allows one to identify the changes going on in the different spaces. Factors to consider

would be the position the characters have in their respective environments, the main forms of

violence/ death inherent in these environments, different lessons learnt or confrontations

experienced, and so forth. All of these factors, however, must be considered in their relationship to

time and space. On the one hand either a strong, mutually dependent relationship, or on the other

hand, a retarded and dissonant relationship. The chapter following this discussion (of all the

previously mentioned chronotopes) will then focus on the relevance of the localities mentioned as

well as their function within the potential progression of the social and political landscapes.

Although the witness-narrator states that “[i]t is not different, really, here in the city. Just

like back in the village, we live our lives together as one. We know everything about everybody”

(Mda 8), s/he is referring to the sense of community and the role of the bonds that connects the

inhabitants of both locations. The bonds are transferred across time and space and retain their

strength. However, this can also be interpreted as the only real connecting factor that these two

places share. If one is to look at how violence and death are reflected and referred to, the

differences become very clear. Death in the village (That Mountain Woman and Jwara for example)

takes on a natural tone. They are neither politically nor maliciously motivated. Death becomes a

natural occurrence, reflected by the words by one of the Nurses in the city

The son had died a normal death. Perhaps I should say an abnormal death,

because he died peacefully of natural illness in his sleep. Normal deaths are

those deaths we have become accustomed to, deaths that happen everyday.

They are deaths of the gun, and the knife, and torture and gore. We don't

normally see people who die of illness or of old age.” (146 - 147)

What is considered natural and unnatural is inverted and becomes an indicator of the place and

time. Death changes according to place, although it exists in the same time. The village maintains

its place of a place where death has not become 'natural' in the city sense, but remains natural in the

true sense of the word. In this sense, the need for change, especially concerning traditions and


rituals, is of no high necessity. This idea of death and location is echoed by the story of Toloki's first

time encountering a Nurse.

The first funeral. He was thirteen and Noria was ten. The first Nurse that he

saw in his life was the principal of the of the village primary school where

he was a pupil. A schoolgirl, who had been Noria's friend during her life,

had died a painful death of a gun. She was the first girl that we knew of in

our village to be shot dead, and it happened in the city. (35, emphasis mine).

Here, the difference between violence, death and location become apparent. This will be carried on

in the novel. The village remains the same concerning the concepts of death and violence, but

change does occur in different spaces.

If one considers the relationship between the different characters, focussing on those who

are married, there is no change whatsoever. It is only once death enters this union that the change

slowly takes place. A brief analysis of Noria would support this: after she leaves the village and

moves to the town with Napu, does her life really change. This change then becomes irreversible, it

can only continue forward. Toloki is also not spared of existing in this unchanging environment.

His father beats him and prefers Noria to him. The only change in this relationship is the intensity

of the beatings and the disinterest for Jwara shown by Noria. There is no sudden realisation of his

love for Toloki on Jwara's behalf – only once Toloki and Noria are not there any more. The biggest

character to change during the novel is Nefolovhodwe, who progresses from a simple coffin maker

to become one of the richest people in the country. In essence, relationships and individuals are

unable to change, develop or transform as long as they remain in the chronotope of the village.

Once they do however leave, do they radically change from the persons that they were and the way

they interacted with others. When considering how stable and immobile these characters remain,

and especially how this is focussed in the village, it becomes clear that space and time share a very

disconnected liaison. Space and time stay constant. Xesibe remains submissive until That Mountain

Woman's death under her authoritative power and Jwara remains controlling of his wife. Their

relationships represent the values of the village at that time, reproducing the known and accepted

customs and traditions.

Within the novel as well, the village – to a large degree – only exists in the memories and

retelling of the witness-narrator. If one then follows what Bakhtin attributes the chronotope to

represent, this would mean that the space the village takes in is real, i.e. the narratives from the past

happened in a space that is most probably still existent. Nefolovhodwe is the main source of

evidence, as he travels back to the village to collect Jwara's figurines and tells both Toloki and

Noria about the developments there. Basically, the space stays the same, it is not transposed or


moved somewhere else. However, the village as it is told does not exist in that time any more,

which means that the time the reader experiences the village is dead time, time that has lost its

potency through its linear, chronological progression and historic nature. This would also explain

why the village is the place with the least potential to change as it exists only in the past. The

stories, the memories all take place in a time that cannot change itself any more in a place that

exists only in this time. Bakhtin explains this as following: “[T[ime is devalued and dissolved in

extratemporal categories. In this world view, time is a force that only destroys and annihilates; it

creates nothing” (Rabelais 206).

At the end of the novel however, change has taken place. Although the change may seem

very minuscule and trivial, it is reflective of the move towards a larger, more communal society.

Nefolovhodwe tells Noria and Toloki that their “parents are cohabiting! In their old age they have

caused a scandal by moving in together” (Mda 191). One can deduce for this that they have decided

to put the ridicule and mockery of the village behind them and chose a union that could benefit

them both. This could be read as a metaphor for the country, in which many people have died and

are left alone. Also, this mirrors perfectly what Toloki (son of Jwara and his wife) and Noria

(daughter of Xesibe and That Mountain Woman) have done. This development creates a direct link

between the village and the city (in which both societies frown upon cohabitation) as it takes place

in two different spaces and also in the same time. The chronotope of the village is able to take on

the same features as that of the city, fusing the two localities through an equal development from

two different spaces and two different ”times”.

5.2. The Road

It is difficult to assess the extent to which Toloki and Noria develop, change, face crises,

and experience rebirth if one does not include their movement through time (for Toloki it is three

months; for Noria it is not explicitly mentioned) and through space. The initial point of departure

for both is the same – the village – and the point of convergence is also the same, the city. The

histories concerning the two characters, however, could not be more different, especially when

considering the shared points of connection from the village (death, violence, Jwara). Although

Toloki experiences many drawbacks, such as his days of hunger, his popularity and fall, his battles

with the city municipality, the loss of his good friend, these do not come close to Noria. While she

is away from the village she looses her son (twice), the father of her child, her mother, her house

and is hounded by the media due to the second death of her son. One can therefore summarise these

events in line with one of the facets of the chronotope as it functions in the narrative by arguing


that “the course of the individual's life is fused with his actual spatial course or road.” (Dentith 53).

I will start with Toloki's travels as they are concentrated in a nicely measured and accurate time

frame. Noria will follow by looking at her various encounters with violence and how these

encounters change her from the pleasure-giving and “stuck-up bitch” from the village into the

community conscious woman who is dreaming of learning “how to live”.

For three months Toloki is on the road, this is the time it takes him to reach the city after

leaving the village. He encounters different spaces (farms and small towns) and is confronted with

“discrimination against people of his colour” (52), a euphemism for Apartheid politics and/ or

racism. He is further thrust into a life of begging which does not compute with his pride. This is

later this referenced in his later work ethic in which he does not accept any compensation without

doing work for it18. His experience of the road therefore connects him to those who are less

fortunate than him (the children at the end of the novel are a prime example). Through his

experience he traverses the deep disconnection between himself and the people suffering under the

reach of official culture, an important carnival feature. He is also educated about the state of his

country while taking the three month path from his village (a strongly uniform and communal

setting) and the city (a melting pot of various cultures, groups, institutions, etc.). His education

starts when he works for a mill. He is connected to his past through his labour as it was a mill that

rewarded his artistic endeavours in primary school with his drawing in its calendar. It is also here

that he is confronted with concepts such as corruption, racism and the capriciousness of the white

man. But here he also learns of the power of the collective when there is talk of unions in the cities,

places where activism and resistance to exploitation are the strongest. After the death of his friend

(he is, like Vutha The Second, burnt to death), Toloki decides to move on as there is nothing

keeping him in that unnamed town. This again puts him on the road to the city where “a war of

freedom” (59) is raging. But before reaching the city, he comes across a town where the inhabitants

had murdered a group of criminals. Not only is he confronted with the good that people are capable

of, but even more significantly, also the evil, and even the helplessness of the different

communities. His travels do not end there however. He continuously commutes between the city

and the informal settlement in order to fulfil his wish of mourning for the victims of death and to

help the survivors do the same. These tragic events, coupled with the negative experiences he has

with Nefolovhodwe, force him to assess the function of death in his world. Furthermore, it forces

him to question death's role in creating a new environment in which he others can live with death

without fearing it. Toloki is only able to understand his calling in society by leaving his place of

birth and childhood and moving away from it in a spatial and temporal fashion. He leaves behind

18 This attitude is mentioned a number of times, emphasised especially in the initial description of Toloki and his connection to the aghori sadhu, but

also when talking to Nefolovhodwe, and his Nefolovhodwe's wife.


the old (his father, Noria) and constantly moves towards the new (new forms of death, his concept

of the Professional Mourner, his new relationship with Noria). It is difficult to conceive that he

would have become what he is, had he stayed in the village. Through his journey until becoming a

Professional Mourner he is a beggar, works at a mill, works on farms that he passes, sells

boerewors rolls, is a dock worker and finally a security guard in the services of Nefolovhodwe. His

progression from “Toloki from the village” to “Toloki the Professional Mourner” is deeply

entrenched in his movement through space and time.

Noria's story on the road is one full of tragedy and rebirth. Noria moves between her

village, the nearby town, the city and the informal settlement. Since she left her parents house, she

has struggled to take root somewhere. Along the way she is confronted with the death of her

mother, the infidelity of her father and her husband, the double death of her son and the loss of her

living quarters. This obviously takes a massive toll on her and also disconnects her from the people

that she used to entertain and satisfy. Only when she really settles down in the informal settlement

and forms a relationship that is based on trust and understanding, is she capable of opening up to

people again. The scene in which she and Toloki wash each other is symbolic of this opening up as

it happens directly after she is extremely hurt by the leaders of the political movement, a symbolic

representation of official culture. Throughout her journey, Noria has been confronted by death and

hardship and has countered these pains by either moving forward geographically (from her village

to the town to the city) or through forging strong bonds (That Mountain Woman to Madimbhaza

and Toloki). Just like in the case of Toloki, through moving from the village to the informal

settlement, Noria moves not only through space but also through time, which on hand helps her

heal from her injuries, and on the other hand disconnects her from the “stuck-up bitch” that she

once was. This transformation is only possible because she changes her environment, which is

changed and transformed through time.

In both cases, as is true for Napu, as is true for Nefolovhodwe, as is true for the witness-

narrator: the movement through time and space is responsible for rooting them in their own

transformation while also helping them transform their environment. By moving away from the

village they are helping those who need help, while this is reciprocated. A change of space is

directly linked to a change in character and relationships. Noria and Toloki move from the past,

strongly symbolised by the village, and enter the present, strongly symbolised by the informal

settlement. In the time getting from past to present, they develop, evolve, transform and in turn

change, evolve, and transform their surroundings. This may not manifest itself materialistically, but

through changing other characters and their world outlooks.


5.3. The City

“Bakhtin's carnival is played [in] a society of revolt against the self; no

longer a subversion of aristocracy, but rather a nihilistic subversion of

identity itself. As a consequence of this, identity becomes carnivalesque,

performance of the self becomes its method” (113)

There is no quote or assumption that sums up the state of the city as the one above. Toloki and

Noria enter a place that exists of killings and counter-killings, of hate and retribution. The city is a

place where violence has touched nearly everyone that lives there, but most significantly those of

the lower stratum of the social hierarchy. This means that the city is the location in which Toloki

and Noria are confronted with a metonymy that represents the whole of South Africa, especially as

it is a larger centre where many groups – even those not mentioned such as the labour unions – are

all vying for power and/ or liberation. Here, the two main characters need to adopt a persona that

can protect them from those that might threaten them and that can guarantee them some form of

survival (most significantly material).

Toloki enters the city having been disgusted by “a place where the masters play such funless

games with their servants” (58). In this sentence, it becomes clear that he leaves a place in which

hierarchies seem evident and accepted and moves towards a place where he is independent from

such social categories. In the city he starts life as a homeless harbour worker. But after he looses his

job, he becomes independent, and starts selling boerewors in order to sustain himself. This may

require a permit from the city, but it allows him to work for himself. The cart he uses for his

cooking is eventually confiscated by city officials, who scrap it and thus destroy both his income

and his independence. Officialdom is represented as having the authority to give and to take as it

pleases. This in turn leads him to Nefolovhodwe, a person he knows from the village. Here, after he

dismally fails in his duty as a security guard – or as Nefolovhodwe defines this duty - he notices

from his employer's lifestyle that death can be profitable. After much deliberation, he decides to

become what he sees as his calling: a Professional Mourner.

One can immediately notice that although Toloki stays within the same environment, he

slowly but surely transforms and redefines himself. At the basis of this transformation is the basic

need to survive. This need however is also combined with other factors. He starts as a full-time

employee and gradually moves from a dependent to an independent and finally to a liberated state

of being. Toloki's progression through time is therefore not ultimately fixed to his movement

through space. The chronotope of the city however grants him the signs and possibilities to realize

that he is not tied to either an employer or any social hierarchy. This is echoed when he mentions at

a post-funeral food gathering that “[n]o one ever has to stand there and separate people according


to their strata. People know who they are and where they belong. These things always sort

themselves out” (151). This understanding of one's place, independently of other but still part of a

organic whole is what the idea of carnival is about. He has understood this from his experiences in

the city, from living at the edge of society and survival.

“She [Noria] had a rude awakening when she arrived. There were no diamonds in the

streets, nor was there gold. Only mud and open sewers. It was like nothing she had seen in her life,

nor anything she had imagined” (126). These are the first lines that recap the first impressions that

Noria has of the city. The city suddenly becomes a place that disappoints her as well as showing her

her own limits. It is important to notice the reversal of her – presumed – dream of diamonds and

gold with the reality of mud (the earth) and sewers (the products of the bowels and bladder). In this

case the products of lower stratum (soil and body) and replace the products that define wealth. For

Noria this initially appears as a shock as she had envisioned the city to be place in which she would

be able to leave behind her times of poverty and squalor and take the opportunities that the new

environment might offer her. She receives support from ex-homeboys and ex-homegirls. Here she

meets and lives with an old woman who had been cured by her mother, That Mountain Woman.

Through this exchange, Noria is linked to her old village, especially through the work that she does:

brewing beer. This had been a speciality of her mother's. The recurrence of the village connection

can also have detrimental effects, such as when she finds out about Vutha and Napu's deaths. Not

only is she linked with Vutha's death19, but through her production of beer, also to that of Napu.

Noria is therefore linked both to the village (in a positive aspect) and to the city (through her past in

the village). This can also be read as an extension of the chronotope of the road, as the events

surrounding Napu and Vutha stem from the undertaking of travel.

5.4. The Squatter Camp/ The Informal Settlement

Toloki, until Chapter 5, is a city dweller who only visits the squatter camp in order to mourn at the

funerals. One can interpret this as his only reason to enter the space that is the most violent and thus

the most suited for his need to be with death. The change the squatter camp later takes on him is

manifold, but not directly linked to the space, but rather linked to the relationship that develops

between Noria and Toloki. Once he becomes familiar with the daily routine of the people who

reside in the squatter camp – due to his assistance in the building of Noria's house – does he start to

feel a sense of belonging.

19 This has been discussed to a large extent in the sub-chapter concerning Noria's carnivalesque facets.


He gets into the taxi that will take him to the squatter camp – no, the

informal settlement. And no one turns their back on him, nor do they cover

their noses. He is very pleased that he was able to get roses this time. Their

scent fills the whole taxi. Noria will love these. Indeed, flowers become her.

(92)

This passage indicates a number of differences from the initial life that Toloki was accustomed to.

Firstly, the public acceptance of his presence, as Professional Mourner and outsider, is new to him.

His body odour – or perfume – are no reason to feel discomfort. Not only that, but he exists as one

of the inhabitants of the informal settlement. His new-found acceptance and assistance in creating

not only a home but a haven for Noria and later on himself signals his movement away from the

city, where his home was a public place, to Noria's shack, a private and intimate place.

The informal settlement is also a space in which Toloki and Noria are able to travel away

from their problems and from the problems imposed by their situations. This travel takes the form

of their common walks in their “garden”, eating in their “dining room” or cooking in their

“kitchen”. The squatter camp, because of its bleak yet vibrant environment is ideal for an escape

from their daily lives into a world where time and space are moulded according their needs and

desires. Another example of their imaginative power is a travel back into time and simultaneously

into the future. Noria sings for Toloki and he can suddenly do something that he was never capable

of: drawing humans. Not only does this relationship release pent-up energies and creative powers

(like with Jwara), but contrary to the figurines from the village, Toloki's creation is shared with the

children who try to imitate him. The figurines also receive a revitalised existence when brought to

the settlement. They not only entertain the young kids, they also have the potential to become

public property, changing the hidden-away capacities that could never be realised. They have now

found a perfect space in which to realise their potential, the former squatter camp. Noria sums it up

best when she remonstrates Toloki for using the word ugly: “Toloki, the figurines are not ugly.

Remember that my spirit is in them too. And we must never use that painful word – ugly” (196).

The word brings back the negative times of the village concerning her relationship with Toloki.

Here, far away from the village and the city have they now found a place that can accommodate

both of their conceptions of beauty.


6. A Carnival of Resistance

It is difficult to argue against the idea that the body is vital in any form of ideology or official

culture20. Intake of food and drugs, expulsion of materials, sexuality, violence, labour. All of these

are at the heart of how social organs and institutions control the individual. Most clear cut of these

are laws and definitions (for example: what constitutes a homosexual, laws concerning public

nudity, the legal age for drinking, working, etc.), all of which focus on the body or bodies. Of

course, when talking about the body/ the bodies, it is necessary – no, inevitable – to also talk about

birth/ life and death. This may of course take may forms, from the physical and concrete to the

abstract and immaterial. From there, it is also essential to see these concepts in action. The focus

here will be twofold: Firstly, the examination of inversions (of the concepts of body and birth/ life

and death, for example) forces one to evaluate the power structures and systems in Ways of Dying.

Secondly, one must look at how laughter is represented in the novel and how far its positive and

liberating energies are utilized. The goal of this chapter is therefore to identify in how far the body

and the bodies, as well as conceptions of birth/ life and death are infused with resistant energies and

how the elements of carnival feature in these energies.

6.1. The Body/ The Bodies

As I have mentioned when discussing the characters if Toloki and Noria, and to a certain extent, the

witness-narrator, their bodies are constantly connected to death. This may take the form of linking

physical attributes – such as Toloki's sorrowful eyes, his body odour, or his ability to carry all the

sadness in the world – to the ideas surrounding death. Or they can take the form of constantly being

surrounded by death through the process of birth, as is the case with Noria. Her mother, That

Mountain Woman, dies of cancer of the womb. This is the place that gave Noria life and is the same

site that ends the life of her mother. That Mountain Woman's death is also reflected through the

death of the products – referring to the absurd pregnancies that Noria experiences – that emerge

from Noria's womb. This even extends to Napu, the father of the Vutha and the person copulating

with Noria. He, however, drowns in the excrement of others, dying in the material product of other

bodies. Napu's death therefore partly fulfils the Bakhtinian assertion that excrement “combines the

grave and birth in their highest , most comic, least terrifying form” (176). On the other hand it also

contests this definition as the death of drowning is not comic and there is a high level of terror

involved. These examples only serve to indicate how the body is intrinsically linked to death and

20 “The body is the most universal symbol of the State. It is inevitable that in Stalinist Russia, xenophobic in its relation to the outside world and

(like Renaissance doctors) given to purging its body politic, the idea of keeping the body pure had central importance.” (Holquist “Bakhtin and

Rabelais: Theory as Praxis” 15)


rebirth throughout the novel, and how the lower stratum is also able to extinguish the lives it allows

for. The purpose of this sub-chapter nevertheless is to find how the body of the individuals, the

body of carnival and the social bodies or institutions are used to either liberate or suppress.

6.1.1. The Body and Food

Toloki is again a good place to start. One must merely look at his eating habit/ habits to understand

how his decisions are quite in opposition to the official culture. The first time he is mentioned in

connection with food is when he refuses to take part in the eating ritual after a funeral. One could

deduce from this that the insult to his profession (which occurred when he wanted to meet Noria at

the funeral and was denied access to her by the street committee) is what really let him form that

decision. But that would be too superficial. One must remember that he still goes to the post-

funeral meeting, where he washes his hands. This could therefore be interpreted as his willingness

to pay respect to the deceased (by taking part in this ritual) but forfeiting his respect for the living.

This forfeit takes the form of denying life-giving substances (food) of the others to himself, and

rejecting the chance to participate in their life-affirming ritual. It is through this decision that Toloki

transgresses the official culture of the funeral rituals, placing his loyalties with the those that he

mourns and not those that he mourns for. Food – or lack thereof – becomes a tool in which to show

defiance (against the living) and showing solidarity (with the dead). This solidarity is continued

when one takes note of the foods that Toloki takes in. His vocation – which is dedicated to the

dying – is reflected in his ascetic way of life.

The witness-narrator, next to revealing Toloki's physique and appearance, also gives some

background information as to how Toloki lives: “He spends his sparse existence on the cremation

ground, cooks his food on the fires of a funeral pure, and feeds on human waste and human

corpses. He drinks his own urine to quench his thirst” (11). He himself then reveals to Noria why

he eats in such a manner. After she questions his fondness for the supposed austere combination of

Swiss role and green, he answers: “It is because I am austere, like the monks from faraway

mountain monasteries” (105). He further adds, “I really don't know what they eat, except for those

with faecal feeding habits – the aghori sadhu, for instance” (105). It becomes clear that he does not

only live for the dead, but actually also off them. The dead become reincarnated – metaphorically –

by being ingested or being part of the eating process. Toloki extends the funeral process and

therefore creates a further space in which the dead become part of the life-giving and regenerative

process. The dead re-enter the world through the processes of digestion and ingestion, whereby the

bowls (the lower stratum) are the site in which they re-enter. The resistance in this case is not of a


political nature, but of a carnival nature: The dead are not merely buried, but are actively involved

in the never-ending life of the folk, guaranteeing its survival and with it the survival of carnival.

Food as a communal and resistant tool is negated in a further scene. This time because of its

function as a display and not as sustenance. After a meeting in which the leaders of the political

movement try and roll out new plans for the resistance, the men from the community chastise the

women for serving unfit food (163). The official culture in this sense is reconstructed from the

point of view of the men, who are unwilling to merge the high (the leaders of the political

movement) with the lowly foods served by the women (cabbage). Not only is the cabbage

previously mentioned in connection with a homeless man passing gas, fixing it with to lower

stratum, but it is then compared to meat by Toloki. The comparison is to show how even food is

stratified and forms part of some hierarchies. The food in this case looses its carnival essence as it

stops being part of the people's celebration and takes on an official nature. This 'officialising' of the

food also takes it out of its communal and collective element and pushes it into the idea of a

display. Mbembe comments on this display as

“The commandement has to be extravagant, since apart from feeding itself,

it also has to feed its clientèle. Likewise, it must furnish public proof of its

prestige and glory by a sumptuous (yet burdensome) presentation of its

status, displaying the heights of luxury in matters of dress and lifestyle,

thereby turning prodigal acts of generosity into grand theatre.” (“The

Banality of Power” 387)

The extravagance is clearly indicated through the expensive cars the leaders (in this case the

commandement) arrive in as well as the bejewelled woman, who attempts to console Noria. Here,

we are offered an example in which carnival's energy, through the refusal to merge high and low,

are diminished. Through this example, the limitations of carnival are laid bare, as the seriousness of

official culture is able to easily penetrate a potential site filled with carnivalesque elements. Official

culture is allowed to use these potential energies for its own ends.

6.1.2. The Body and Nakedness

The French philosopher and intellectual Bataille in his essay “Death and Sensuality” posits that

“[n]akedness offers a contrast to self-possession” (9). This is also a concept that is addressed in

Mda's novel. I want to focus on two very vivid passages that deal with nakedness. The idea is to

look at how these naked bodies function in connection with other naked bodies and why these

naked bodies can/ could play a role in the resistant potentialities of carnival, especially in that

specific environment. The first example I want to look at is the washing passage, in which Noria


and Toloki expose themselves to each other. The second example deals with the abduction of Bhut'

Shaddy by the “the boers”. The naked body in this example is contrasted to the previous one by

making it a weapon of terror, used to induce fear and to exercise power. The juxtaposition between

'body' and 'corpse' serves to sever the idea of life from that of death.

6.1.2.1 Toloki, Noria, and Nakedness

This scene takes place after Noria and Toloki talk about the death of Vutha The Second. Noria sees

Toloki crying due to her sad confession and proposes that they both bath. Toloki agrees but he is

unaware that she means to take the bath with him. After she asks him to undress, she does the same.

This scene contains various methods of transporting carnivalesque elements (exposure of genitals,

corporeality), but the most important one is the fusion of the two bodies. Although this takes place

outside of a sexual context, its meaning is still very powerful. Noria and Toloki live in the moment,

clearly indicated by their focus on each other and their action. Their thoughts fuse, their bodies

merge and even the scents that they both carry with them (Noria's aloe and Toloki's perfume)

merge. This joint bath takes their new-found friendship to another level, made possible by their

mutual nakedness. Toloki reaction to Noria's suggestion is commented with “He is willing to learn

new ways of living” (179), referring to his constant rebirth and redefinition of himself. Noria on the

other hand is willing to let a man's hand touch her in an intimate way, also giving an indication of

rebirth and redefinition.

Not only does this reflect some forms of change within the relationship between the two,

but it also provides a sanctuary in which the possession of the body plays no meaning. They wash

each other as if washing themselves yet this action is based on consensual understanding and

respect. Nakedness of self and the other is fused in order to dissolve the boundary between self and

other and thus creating a space for healing. Noria's suggestion – although at first surprising for

Toloki – carries the significant idea of regeneration (of their relationship), reconciliation (with her

and his past) and of soothing (from the current situation). In a Bakhtinian analysis, the focus on the

merging of the bodies, this break down of the barrier between the own body and that of someone

else's, is pivotal for his argument of carnival. This fusion is also the most resistant and

revolutionary act that these two characters (or any others) can partake in: The barriers between

people, formed and developed by official culture (be it through hierarchies, difference, judgement,

etc.) are nullified. The description of Toloki as a “sheep to slaughter” must be read with this idea of

carnival in mind. Toloki is symbolically killed through this action21; but only in order to reborn. The

21 His self-imposed ban on contact with the female body (due to his profession) is herewith disturbed and re-evaluated.


manifestation of his rebirth is visible through his deeper connection with Noria, his new sense for

hygiene and his connection to the other inhabitants of the informal settlement.

6.1.2.2. Bhut' Shaddy, “The Boers” and Nakedness

For Bhut' Shaddy, the experience of nakedness is one of horror and trauma. He is abducted and

taken to a place filled with naked corpses. In this case, Bataille's assumption is negated, as this

“contrast to self-possession” takes on a sinister form. The corpses have no say or choice in this

matter. Their nakedness is not used as a means of closing the gap between body of the self and

body of the other but it is in fact used to deepen the gap between the two bodies. The corpses are

not corpses any more, they are tools and weapons used to alienate people from their own bodies.

Although carnival elements are found here, they are stretched into the terrifying and taken

completely out of their resistant context. In this scenario, a carnivalesque facet, collective

nakedness is misused and reappropriated by agents of official culture in order to intimidate.

When “the boers” are finished with him, he resembles one of the corpses. They shake his

“limp hand”, he is dumped outside the morgue. Here death becomes real, it is not someone else's

death but it becomes one's one. Due to the situation and due to the forces involved, no amount of

laughter and carnival is able to help him or the corpses. In this example, official culture – through

its militant nature and inhumanity – completely overpowers the individual and those who are

unable to defend themselves against this sort of culture. Only though a collective (i.e. through the

involvement of others who can assist Bhut' Shaddy in this ordeal) can this type of abuse and misuse

of the body of others be countered.

The “boers” employ the bodies – most probably victims of their exercises of violence – as

means of inducing fear into Bhut' Shaddy. The two corpses mentioned are the old man and the

young girl. If one assesses in how far these two corpses are used, one is also able of explaining to

what extent these corpses represent perversions of carnival elements. The bodies in the room have

not been returned to the earth (in the form of a grave). Neither have they been reunited with the

living. The old man is thrust upon Bhut' Shaddy, revealing the weight of old age and death to him.

This weight is laid upon him while is ordered to have intercourse with a young, dead girl. She

reveals to him the infertility of death, its complete absence of life forces. Together, these two

corpses are used by “the boers” to destroy the connection between life and death. The body has

been used against another body in order to show its finiteness, mortality and impotence.


6.2. Birth and Death

The title of the novel reads Ways of Dying. This is echoed by the first utterance of the novel: “There

are many ways of dying!” (3) and repeated on other occasions. It is used in connection with birth

“Soon we shall experience the death of birth itself” (15) and life itself “our ways of living are our

ways of dying” (89). In this way, Mda explicitly connects death and birth/ life in a manner that

makes it difficult to have the one without the other. This is a necessary development if the energies

of carnival are to be successfully harvested. Death cannot be considered a merely negative fact of

life or a negation of that life (Rabelais 50).It must be seen infused with all the positive energy that

is also associated with life. The site of life (the womb) is simultaneously the site of death. Any life

that is released into the world is doomed to die as well. But this death is necessary for the

continuation of life – without death there is no life, without life there is no death. It is not only

Bakhtin that argues this point, it is echoed by Bataille as well

Discontinuous beings that we are, death means continuity of beings.

Reproduction leads to discontinuity of beings, but brings into play their

continuity; that is to say, it is intimately linked with death. (7)

If there is this near-indestructible force that connects life and death, making it a combined concept,

this force must also be present in Ways of Dying. This firstly takes place in the title already. Death

becomes an action. It is the act of dying that becomes relevant, not the passive act of being killed. It

is a process, just like living.

There are countless of examples in Mda's novel in which these two forces are combined, but

these always have different results. For example, the slow death of the Apartheid system and all its

extensions is responsible for countless deaths, especially civilian. This however gives birth to a

new system, a system in which the death of these civilians form part of the new order. Death here

plays a dual role: as an extinguisher of life and the creator of a new way of life. This argumentation

would follow the idea that “in this ambivalence is thus a vision of the profound and regenerative

connection between life and death, of the world of the living and the earthy netherworld.” (Barnard

284). The bodies in the grave are not just dead, have not just died but given energy, urgency and

impetus to the ongoing battle between those who are oppressed and official culture. And if one

takes Mbembe's definition of sovereignty in his essay “Necropolitics” as the “control over

mortality and to define life as the deployment and manifestation of power” (2), folk culture can

only really exist by ridiculing this type of sovereignty ( Lachmann, Eshelman and Davis 123) and

the strongest resistance against such an idea of sovereignty is life and the eternal extension of this


life. Carnival therefore allows a potent and fruitful opposition to Mbembe's sovereignty by

celebrating life in death and vice versa. Sovereignty does however not immediately mean power.

Foucault argues that

[w]hat makes power hold good, what makes it accepted is, is simply the fact

that it doesn't only weigh on us as a force that says no, but that it traverses

and produces things, it induces pleasure, forms knowledge, produces

discourse. It needs to be considered as a productive network which runs

through the whole social body, much more than as a negative instance

whose function is repression. (119)

The power to decide over life and death can also mean that there is a space in which there is also a

struggle for that specific power and can thus liberate those who can be controlled. This struggle

means that the death of one can mean the life of other, connecting death and life in a circular

fashion.

Toloki is the perfect proponent for this as his constant connection to death, especially as a

life-affirming and life-giving force, is his only way of opposing official culture. And he attempts to

pass this idea on to Noria, who he tries to convince to become a Professional Mourner like himself.

He is also important in maintaining this connection between the living and the dead by performing

his different wails and cries. These serve to remind those who are mourning that in a time of

constant death and sadness those who are being buried still have meaning and relevance. The Nurse

serves a similar role, recounting the way of dying to the crowd, infusing the death of the deceased

with those who are attending the funeral. They are the force that connects those in the grave with

those above it. Death and life are further connected through the important ritual feasts after the

funeral. They remind the living that their intake of food and the consequent expulsion of said food

is necessary in continuing their existence and thus continuing the lives of the dead. The dead

continue their lives through the memories and thoughts of the living.

6.3. Inversions

Inversions are at the heart of what carnival is about. By inverting traditional hierarchies (the most

common is making fun of the king by turning him into fool and making the fool king) and thus

altering the meanings of the past, carnival contains the tools to change and transform, whether it be

itself or its participants. One of the most common inversions is that of the body (the lower stratum

replacing the upper stratum). This includes corporeality, sexuality, and expulsion of body fluids,

and so forth. An excellent example of this inversion and deep connection is featured in Toloki's

episode with the Archbishop of the Apostolic Blessed Church of Holly Zion of on the Mountain

Top. Alone the name (including the misspelling of “Holy”) is reason for laughter, but the real


inversion occurs when one follows the life of the Archbishop and how he conducts his business. He

started off as a seller of tripe – the stomach lining of cows – and a remover of nightsoil. Both of

these occupations are linked to the bowels and excrement. This example shows that a servant of the

lower stratum is able to form his own sect and consequently is also able to spread the Word of God,

the highest possible authority. The connection between the lower stratum and the highly respected

exercise of the Christian religion is again ridiculed when the witness-narrator gives an account of

the ritual that takes place on top of the blessed mountain. Followers are required to drink blessed

water and then resume to urinate, defecate and vomit. This again combines the religious aspect of

cleansing (physically as well as spiritually) while also creating a spectacle in which the buttocks of

the people replace their heads – not physically, but through the act of vomiting.

I used this detailed analysis only to bring closer the idea of inversion. Of course there are

many more of those in the novel, but my focus in this case will be on three very relevant examples

concerning characters and religion specifically. I am using religion for this examination because it

is the most recurring and easily identifiable representation of official culture as well as being that

representation in which most of the characters participate in.

6.3.1. Vutha and Christ

In the novel, the Christian Church is the institution that is victim of most inversions. The burial of

Vutha The Second is the first such inversion, where the charred body of a young boy competes for

attention with the body of Christ. Noria decided that her child, who was burnt to death, must be

buried on Christmas Day or not at all. This choice is sacrilege, depending on what is constituted as

official culture. But if one pays close attention to the way Vutha The Second is constructed and

described in the novel, one can find many similarities with Christ. In essence, the connection

between the two is that of extreme inversions and subtle congruences.

If Christ did say, in his final words, “consumatum est”, he might have just as well referred

to Vutha. With this I am creating a link between that what Christ has said and the events

surrounding Vutha's death, namely consumption by flames. This consumption is also the reason for

his burial – on the birthday of Christ. One can take this link even further when one compares the

conceptions of both him and Christ. Both were conceived not by men but by supernatural beings:

Christ as the Son of God, Vutha The Second as the son of “strangers that visited her [Noria] in her

dreams” (140). They are then both then betrayed by people they though they could trust (Christ by

Judas, Vutha by Danisa). And both appear/ appeared to have been revived from the dead (Christ

was resurrected three days after his crucifixion, Vutha The Second was reborn as the original,


deceased Vutha). The biggest difference between them is the fact that Vutha the Second is buried

(enters the grave/ womb of the earth) the day that Christ is born (exits the womb). Vutha's whole

life until his death is paralleled to the life of Christ, only to converge at the points in which they

both enter/ exit the world. In this example, the link between death, birth and consumption, between

religion and the supernatural, between a 'normal child' and the Saviour, and between the grave and

the womb are all concentrated on the tiny, burnt body of Noria's (reincarnated) son.

6.3.2. Toloki and the Church

This continues when one looks at why Toloki left the village. It happened after another

violent confrontation with Jwara, but the story beforehand is very important for the purposes of

understanding what this has to do with religion and inversion. Toloki had drunk too much and

decided to step up to the pulpit in the local church and retell the story of Jesus Christ,

misinterpreting and misremembering some of the details of the good man's life. He ends his

“sermon” with the words “ “'Ndinxaniwe! Ek is dors! Ke nyoriloe! So said the Lord Christ, hanging

on the cross! I am thirsty! I am thirsty!” (95). If one is to believe Bakhtin, “Christ's last words on

the cross [were] sitio ('I thirst') and consumatum est” (Rabelais 86). After Jwara hears of this he

kicks Toloki so badly that he expels blood form his mouth. In this case, the lower stratum (the

blood emerging from the kick to stomach) is linked to Christianity (Toloki's performance in the

church). One could even take it one step further and argue that because of his role as a creator of

figurines, Jwara could represent God and Toloki, as the victim of the violence sanctioned against

him through his father, is Jesus. This would solidify the connection between the church episode, the

lower stratum (drinking, blood) and violence. All of this means that the carnivalesque environment

uses the elements of the church – in some cases verbatim – and transposes the meanings, turning

them into everyday language and symbols. There is even more relevance to this inversion when one

considers Toloki's attitude towards anything connected to the Christianity (his war with the

Archbishop of the village sect, his aversion to churches, his apathy towards Christian holidays). His

love for the carols however does not conform to this rejection of the church culture. This may be

because the songs are not dogmatic, but connect people by having them join together in the

collective singing of the songs. Toloki therefore finds a way of entering society (participating in the

singing, even if only by listening) without entering the controlling space of the Church and its

extensions.


6.3.3. Noria and the Church

Noria herself is guilty of using the front of religion in order to attain her own goals. After

Napu leaves and she is responsible for her son, she starts a job as a sweeper in a church group. This

makes it possible for her to look after her son, while combining the work at the church with the

occupation of entertaining rich (and mostly white) men. Here the church and its closed-off dogmas

are the prime sight of inversions and consequently, of the most significant oppositions to official

culture.

“Rabelias' images have a certain undestroyable unofficial nature. No dogma,

no authoritarianism, no narrow-minded seriousness can coexist with

Rabelaisian images; these images are opposed to all that is finished and

polished, to all pomposity, to every ready-made solution in the sphere of

thought and world outlook.” (Rabelais 3)

Noria combines her (although forced or opportunistic) promiscuity with the church's ideas of

abstinence, monogamy, sex for love, etc. This combination of the high (the word of God, purity,

etc.) and the low (sin, corporeality, etc.) is further combined through her job and side job through

the clientèle she entertains. Through various laws, regulations and acts, there was created in South

Africa during Apartheid a legal segregation between the different groups, depending on their skin

colour. Those classified as “white” were considered to be superior and were thus advantaged, while

those with darker skin tones were considered inferior and were disadvantaged. These took many

forms, such as education, political and judicial rights and were extended to documentation, living

space and so forth. In this “business” (a business of bodies) however, the bodies are capable of

performing on the same level. There is no boundary once they reach the level of corporeality. Noria

is a woman, her partners are men and that is also where it ends. The boundary between what was

considered high (rich and white) and that which was considered low (black and poor) are instantly

erased. The body in this example is the site where laws and regulations, dogmas and social norms

are unable to properly function, creating a site of resistance against all that seems official.

6.4. The Role of Laughter

There is one important scene in which the idea of laughter in connection with official culture is

painted very vividly in the novel. When Noria visits the funeral of a classmate who was shot, she

and another friend are talking. The girl tells her that “I feel that we are going to be attacked. Some

people don't like our choir because it is doing well” (38) Her last words to Noria are “I am going to


die laughing” (38). She is shot shortly afterwards, dying in Noria's arms, laughing. There is a high

relevance in this scene as laughter is the power that dispels fear for the young girl. She has accepted

that death is part of her life (“When one is called no one can prevent it”). Laughter is the only

weapon she has against this final truth, a truth harvested by official culture and exploited by it. This

is confirmed by the innocent deaths at the hands of police (bullets that ricochet off walls), Battalion

77, the migrant workers, muti doctors, the military, the Young Tigers, and so forth. All of these

groups are trying to attain power or trying to hang onto it, reducing a country into a killing zone. In

this violent time, fear is spread all around, the fear of death, the fear of dying. In carnival, with

laughter as its driving force, laughter is the only force strong enough to counter this onslaught of

official culture (Rabelais 47). According to Hutcheon, fear is what makes official culture so strong

and laughter is therefore the best antidote (85).

But laughter is not only there to counter the potential of death, but everything that confines

the individual and anything that disconnects him from his world and others. Laughter

purifies from dogmatism, from the intolerant and the petrified; it liberates

from fanaticism and pedantry, from fear and intimidation, from didacticism

and naïveté and illusion, from the single meaning, the single level, from

sentimentality. Laughter does not permit seriousness to atrophy and to be

torn away from the one being, forever incomplete. It restores this ambivalent

wholeness. Such is the function of laughter in the historical development of

culture and literature. (Rabelais 123)

This means that anything that is laughed at looses its power, its potency and its ability to control. In

this case the little girl who dies laughing liberated herself from the fear of death and liberated

herself from fear itself. Napu laughs at That Mountain Woman, reducing her power over him.

Toloki and Noria laugh together, freeing themselves from the agonies of the past and forming a new

combined future. The people at the four funeral scene laugh at the deceased and therefore at death

itself. The children at the end of the novel laugh at the fear-inducing figurines, infusing them with a

fresh energy, capable of entertaining and educating those who look upon them. Noria even used it

in order to control and manipulate those who feasted on her laughter. All of these illustrations serve

the singular purpose: Laughter is used as a positive force, deepening relationships, dispelling fear,

creating new meanings and especially liberating from those forces that attempt to disconnect and

oppress.


7. The Chronotope and Its Carnival

The function of chronotope, according to Bakhtin's analysis, is to trace how the relationship

between time and space has developed since Greek novels (if one can define them as such) until

Modernity. In my argumentation I have used the initial idea behind the chronotope, as Bakhtin

intended and defined it, but have added another dimension or perspective to the approach. In this

chapter, the idea is to fuse understanding and application of the chronotope and link it to the theory

of carnival in order to track the developments and the changes that take/ took place throughout the

novel. As mentioned, not every act of resistance or rebellion is always aimed at the Apartheid

system (although this is the most extreme and furthest reaching force of submission in the novel),

but also at institutions that confine, define, constrict (such as the Christian church, the political

movement, the Young Tigers, the funeral rituals). All of these institutions are also responsible for

the death of innocents and the limitations on the lives of the living.

Firstly, the village is the premier site to test this fusion of chronotope and carnival. As it was

the initial site in my examination for applying the chronotope, it should again serve as the starting

point for this examination. Especially as it exists nearly exclusively in the past tense (through

memories, anecdotes, traditions) and permanently punctures the narrative of the present. This past-

living-in-the-present was discussed in the sub-chapter concerning Noria and Toloki's nakedness.

This same fusion will be tried out on the topos of the city (which will include the informal

settlement), where most of the carnival elements and actions take place. It will also serve to

juxtapose and contrast the results from the earlier application of said fusion. Focus will be in how

far resistance and change can be located in both localities.

After this fusion has been successfully been applied and the results are there to be assessed,

the final step in this examination will be to determine how far time and space are able to push the

ideas of transition. The first place to start is the novel itself. The object of investigation here will be

in what way the novel has gone through its own transition. Here I will discuss how the characters

and the narrative form take part in this transition. My focus is how these elements (characters and

narrative) are bound to space and what effect time has on them, especially in relation to carnival.

After the novel has gone through this motion, the investigation will end with my attempt at

applying my approach to the narrated world. The big question to answer is: Do the participants

benefit from the pockets of carnivalized condition.


7.1. The Village

The village, as mentioned numerous times, is the starting point for the analysis of the main

characters, and is also simultaneously the ideal place to contrast it to the city/ informal settlement,

the last place to feature in the novel. The focus here will be to trace the development of the village

in a formal setting, examining how it influences the narrative and how it enters into the actual

narrated world. This contrast becomes important when remembering that the so-called folk, living

mostly in rural areas, form the base of any Bakhtinian carnival. The progress of the carnival

elements within the village until the end of the novel is what will be focused on, tracking how time

and space affect these carnival elements.

When the witness-narrator introduces Toloki and Noria, focussing on their different wishes

for the future and their disinterest in finding one another (8). The village starts off as the sight in

which people, once connected, leave and loose this connection. In Toloki's case this is a conscious

decision. He makes this decision after his encounter with Nefolovhodwe, also a former person from

their village. Noria on the other hand immerses herself with former inhabitants of the village who

have also moved to the city. She is supported by them and therefore maintains some semblance of

the village life. The chronotope for Toloki in this case is a complete removal of the village from his

person. This removal is further strengthened by his new location in the city where he is also not part

of the informal settlement, a reincarnation of the village in many respects. This would take the form

of the communal spirit that the informal settlement exhibits (Bhut' Shaddy, Noria, Madhimbaza),

the keeping of traditions (sleeping naked, washing of hands at funerals, gender roles), and

references to the village via language (sayings, “homeboy”/ “homegirl”) amongst others. The

village, although it exists mainly in the past cannot be excluded from the present or the future. The

village can therefore be said to not only exist in the past (as is indicated through the excessive

reliance on memories and anecdotes from a time that has passed) but has found some anchorage in

the present.

Through this merger with between the past and the present, the future must therefore be

incorporated as well. One could argue that the elements that were imported from the village and

exercised in the city/ informal settlement must have a bearing on the future. When considering how

the relationship (or co-habitation) of Noria and Toloki is mirrored by that of their surviving parents,

this assumption does have some solid grounding. With Nefolovhodwe later reconnecting the two

main characters with the village and bringing a significant piece of the village to them (Jwara's

figurines), he is further strengthening this link between the two spaces.


Even though the village exhibits some carnivalesque elements, these never truly manifest

themselves in the city. Examples of this were the episode with That Mountain Woman and the

health worker, the war between Toloki and the preacher of the Apostolic Blessed Church of Holly

Zion on the Mountain Top, and the language used by That Mountain Woman. The biggest

noticeable difference between the village and the city is time. The village lives a collective,

everybody is connected with everybody else. This is not the case in the city/ informal settlement,

where the connections are more fluid, but also more fleeting.

“This time is collective, that is, it is differentiated and measured only by the

events of collective life; everything that exists in this time exists solely for

the collective. The progression of events in an individual life has not yet

been isolated (the interior time of an individual life does not yet exist, the

individuum lives completely on the surface, within a collective whole). Both

labor and the consuming of things are collective.” (Dialogic Imagination

206-207)

The chronotope in the example of the village works mainly through its constant and consistent

collective. Time remains as a passed event, yet this past is revived in the present by locating it in a

different space. Any carnival elements are however left in the past. The village is only able to

ground its exiled inhabitants, but not transform them. It is barely able to transform itself22. To sum

up: The village – treated as a historic place throughout the novel – exists in the present as well

through different modes or representation and various examples. Its carnival elements, however,

are unable to make the transition from one space to the other. It can only support its former

inhabitants. It cannot significantly influence the direction of resistance and transformation. This

can only be done within the chronotope of the city.

7.2. The City

The city, in connection with the informal settlement, is the space in which carnival is the most

needed. This is due to the proliferation of various manifestations of official culture, ranging from

government officials to para-military groups to a distant controlling tribal chief. It is also here

where most of the violence against “the folk” takes place and also where most of the folk energies

are concentrated. The action in the novel tends to oscillate between the city and the settlement,

usually in the form of the commuting Toloki. In this sense the city becomes the space in which

change and transformation are urgently needed and through a near limitless offering of

22 The changes that take place in the village, as compared to the city, are minimal. The same people are doing the same things, while the situation

concerning partisan violence, political deaths and resistance remain spheres of the city.


carnivalesque elements, this urgency is emphasised. The difference between “the folk” from the

rural areas (the village) and the numerous embodiments of official culture (in the city) is where the

56main chronotope of the city takes place.

Noria and Toloki are confronted with official culture at every turn. This may take the form

of a security guard chasing Toloki away from the beach during his shower, or the media and the

political party trying to profit from Noria's grief. Not only these open manifestations of official

culture exert pressure on their daily life, but also the accepted norms (such as hierarchies, gender

roles, social behaviour, etc.) confine these characters. The freedom they experience in the village is

in stark contrast to the freedom (or lack thereof) that they experience in the city. Old values, such as

the respect towards the funeral Nurse, sleeping positions, relationships and the naturalness of death

are all questioned and redefined in the space of the city/ informal settlement. From the beginning,

the novel creates a carnival atmosphere, most strikingly present in the absence of a definitive time

or place but a time frame in which holidays play an important role.

The city landscape does however not take in a advantaged or privileged position. The

setting of the city is constantly interrupted through events that happened in the village a long time

ago (sometimes up to 30 years) and therefore cannot function as an isolated space cut off from the

rest. It does however produce its own environment (compared to the village) in the sense that the

violence and dealing with death take on a different meaning. This society, with its strong

stratification between high and low, with the structures that supports its stratification, is at war with

itself. Where Battalion 77 and the police fail to produce deaths, the Young Tigers, the migrant

workers, muti doctors and others take over. And as Bakhtin has attempted to prove: the strongest

weapon against any form of official culture is laughter.

“Laughter purifies from dogmatism, from the intolerant and the petrified; it

liberates from fanaticism and pedantry, from fear and intimidation, from

didacticism and naïveté and illusion, from the single meaning, the single

level, from sentimentality. Laughter does not permit seriousness to atrophy

and to be torn away from the one being, forever incomplete. It restores this

ambivalent wholeness. Such is the function of laughter in the historical

development of culture and literature.” (123)

This laughter is exemplified by the young choir girl, who transcends the petty definitions of “our

choir” and “their choir”, “better” and “worse”, and dies a laughing death. Laughter and death share

an intimate connection in the novel, epitomised in the events at cemetery with four funerals. The

visitors all end up laughing at a joke about the deceased (in connection with his promiscuous

behaviour) and rounded off with Toloki stating “In our language we have a proverb that says the

greatest death is laughter” (153). Because of the multitude of deaths and ways if dying and because


of the omnipresence of death and the dead, laughter is the only real form of resistance and counter-

culture. And laughter is most powerful when it is in the form of carnival laughter. And this is where

the city becomes a chronotope constantly infused with regenerative energies, as opposed to the

village.

Constant death needs a constant carnival. From the beginning of the novel this idea is

communicated. These two contrasting and clashing processions (already a carnivalesque element),

on one side death (the funeral procession) on the other life (the wedding procession). The poor and

“ugly” people are blocked by the wealthy and “beautiful” people. Their clothes are colourful, yet

their bodies only exist through their upper stratum with the lower stratum – essential to carnival –

missing. This image immediately excludes those who refuse to partake in the collective celebration

of life and death and focus only on one, in this case life. By removing death from life and trying to

create a hierarchy out of the two, the wedding procession falls into the trap of defining itself as

official culture. Through the intervention of Toloki, the physical manifestation of both life and

death, is the wedding procession (symbolically) defeated and the funeral procession is able to

continue. This leads to the chance meeting between Noria and Toloki, which leads to a space in

which these two will become closer and offer each other a vision of a better life.

The locality for this live in togetherness is the informal settlement, where Noria has her life.

She lives in a tight-knit community in which sharing and helping are of the highest values.

Although this is mostly true for the women in the community – which Toloki identifies as the

possible saving element for the settlement and by extension the country – certain males are also

included in this idea. But what is important here is of course the space and time represented and

occupied by the settlement. Barnard defines Toloki and Noria (and the rest of the settlement

inhabitants) as “subjectivities shaped not in relation to the (former) colonizer, but by the sheer

effort to survive in extremely unpredictable circumstances and temporalities” (280). She is of

course referring to the former Apartheid government. What is important for me, however, is a) the

circumstances and b) the temporality. During the novel one learns that nothing that Toloki and

Noria experience in their time outside the village is fixed or secure. They both loose their houses

(or shacks) through the intervention of outside forces. Their relationships are also mostly

superficial, especially those Toloki has formed during his time as a boerewors salesman. The

village created a community mostly through proximity. The city creates the community, the

collective out of necessity. The carnival elements fuse the disconnected members of the informal

settlement together because official culture in its countless manifestations forces this carnival. In

this assumption, one can therefore argue that the extent of carnival features can be directly linked


to the presence of official culture, the village exhibiting these features but not as extensively as the

city.

7.3. The Novel

The novel through its changing focus and concentration of time and space has created its own

chronotope. One could of course argue that this is true for any novel, narrative, or plot. This is

however important when considering the immense wealth of the carnival elements it makes use of.

There is a profound relevance in the novel's focus on the two tenses (referring to the past and

present) as well as the significant places in South Africa (of which the informal settlement is

possibly the most important). The novel itself seems at times to celebrate its own carnival by

oscillating between past and present, village and city, Toloki and Noria. The witness-narrator also

creates a space in which it is difficult to decipher truth from fiction, especially because of the

narrators' unstable construction. But this is exactly what carnival is about. It is not about truth. It is

not about a singular focus (for example a hero's singular quest, a singular narrative strand or a

single place), it is about everything. About the hero's quest, the fool's quest, the castle, the tavern,

the beggar, and the king. It chooses not to privilege anyone or anything except itself. Religion, the

state, power, institutions and any other force are not safe from its reconfiguration and its

redefinition.

The characters who appear in the novel do so in more than one way. They are the main

characters of a story, the participate in a carnivalesque setting, they produce and reproduce folk

culture (by participating in the novel and the carnival), they show each other what “being alive”,

what “living” means and they also show others (further characters, the narrators, the reader) how to

live. There is a deep inter-character connection, enriched by the reader's connection to the

character. Through this bond, the reader also becomes a participant of the carnival events, being

thrown from one time into the next and from one location to the next. And in every time and every

place there are familiar presences (the idea of “we”). This makes the reader of the novel a

participant and agent in Toloki and Noria's story. By stepping into the various carnival and

chronotopic dimensions of the novel, the reader becomes him-/ herself involved in and with the

collective of the story. This is its most powerful and magical aspect.


7.4. The Future

The future is the place in which carnival cannot exist. It attempts to influence the future by

celebrating the past (tradition, the deceased, rituals, etc.) and the present (redefinitions,

reconfigurations, etc.). The future is not a tense, but only a confirmation of the immortality of the

folk, of those who experience and participate in carnival. Although there is always an attempt to

look into the future, the future does not exist for carnival. The future means ideology, it means

definition connected to time, it means a decreased worth for both the past and the present. And

carnival is above all not a revolution, it is only revolutionary. It is unable to change to the past or

the present and cannot influence the future. It can only live in it, forever. According to Howard

Barker (quoted in Edgar): “'a carnival is not a revolution', because 'after the carnival, after the

removal of the masks, you are precisely who you were before.'” (12). But saying that carnival is a

revolution would be a misnomer as this exactly what it opposes – to be identified, for its energies

to be regulated by concepts or for and against, by winners and defeated, by good and evil. All of

these are already present in the idea of carnival, only in a completely different contexts. The winner

is both, the winner and the defeated. What carnival can offer the future - a time that has no place in

carnival's celebrations – is a possibility of a different present of a reanimated past. Infusing these

epochs that time has moved past and left behind with new energies means that the current official

culture can be removed and replaced by the energy and the body of the folk. The revolution of

carnival is not a revolution against of the low against the high. It is a revolt against the idea that

there is actually a difference between the two and any attempts to separate the one from the other.

When contrasting the situation during Boxing Day, where there are murders and rapes, with that at

New Year's Eve this assertion is endorsed

Tyres burn for a very long time. The smell of burning rubber fills the air. But

this time it not mingled with the sickly stench of roasting human flesh. Just

pure, wholesome rubber. (199)

The situation has not drastically and magically changed over the course of that one week. But it has

changed. For the better. And when combining Noria, the children around her, Toloki as a constant

reminder, and the stench of the rubber with the events surrounding Vutha The Second, the change

becomes even more glaring. The new year may bring with it new deaths, new violence, but it also

brings with it new life and new hopes.


8. The Conclusion

It is impossible to deny that there are no or few carnival elements in the novel. It is also just as

impossible to deny a deep connection between the carnival as it happens and the chronotope that it

occurs in. The characters move from the same locality and end up sharing a shack in the informal

settlement. This union – reflected in the village by the union of Toloki's mother and Xesibe – is

caused by the death of Noria's second child, an assumed incarnation of her first son. While Noria

and Toloki live their separate lives although they are in the same city, they end up sharing more

than just their lives. They share their stories from their past, they share their dreams for the future.

Their financial situation might seem less advantageous than while in the village, they are however

better off because of their connection to each other and to those around them. They leave their old

personas in their pasts but still cling to them because they each inhabit large segments of their own

pasts.

Toloki and Noria developed independently from each other and suffered at different times

and to different degrees yet they are willing to embrace each other and those who are left in the

wake of the dying system. Through their travels and their reconnection they serve as an example of

how people are able to survive the violence that accompanies the change from a totalitarian regime

(including all the parties and groups who attempt to seize power) by casting off differences and

looking not to live with but to live through those who suffer through those power struggles. The

extent of carnival elements throughout the novel can be said to be proportional to the amount of

official culture inherent in that space. The village – a product of a slightly romanticized past – is

not as affected by the changes in regime and power as the city or the settlement. It therefore has

less need for a carnival environment than the other two spaces.

Through the focus on the two important “time zones” of the past (the village and the road)

and the present (the city and the settlement) were the carnival elements fully developed. The

introduction of the witness-narrator, who merged the different methods of narrative transmission

also involved the reader in the events of the novel. By including the reader as a part of the “we” the

boundary between observer and participant was blurred. This technique allowed the reader to

become part of the narrative and thus become part of the carnival atmosphere. The inclusion of the

fantastic (Noria's immaculate conception, Jwara's extended survival without food and drink, the

fantasies that Noria and Toloki dream up, Noria's prolonged pregnancies) further created a world in

which everything was possible and where scientific and proven truths were not only questioned but

also removed from their pedestal of privilege. Memories and shared narratives also supported this

assertion of different truths co-existing in the same text.


The two characters are immensely affected by their departure from their relatively safe

village and through their odyssey to the city. They are filled with hopes of love and fortune (as they

both admit) but are confronted by the realities the system has in store for them. Their only hope to

overcome these new challenges of restraint and definition is to enter a world in which they are free

from these constrictions. This world, a world within the real world, is the carnival with its own

chronotope. The chronotope of the carnival, compared to those of the village, the road and the city

are complicit in creating their carnival characters, but the environment they create for themselves is

the one that is the most important. This environment is free from limits, boundaries and any forces

that remove the characters – not just Toloki and Noria – from each other and from the world that

they inhabit. Only when there is the possibility of joining this liberation from the defined world can

the potential for positive change be realised. Carnival may have been reigned in and there may

have been installed certain mechanisms of control. But as long as there are the participants who

breathe life into carnival, it can live as long as the human race itself.


9. Works Cited

Knapp, Adrian. “Confronting the Past: Zakes Mda's 'Ways of Dying'. The Past Coming

to Roost in the Present. Historicising History in Four Post-Apartheid South African

Novel. Stuttgart: ibidem-Verlag. 2006. p. 55-68. Print

Bhaktin, Mikhail Mikhailovic. Rabelais and His World. Trans. Hélène Iswolsky.

Bloomington: Indiana University Press. 1984. Print

---. “Forms of Time and of the Chronotope in the Novel”. The Dialogic Imagination:

Four Essays by M. M. Bakhtin. Ed. Michael Holquist. Trans. Caryl Emerson and

Michael Holquist. Austin: University of Texas Press. 1981. p. 84-258. Print.

Barnard, Rita. “On Laughter, the Grotesque, and the South African Transition: Zakes

Mda's 'Ways of Dying'. NOVEL: A Forum on Fiction. 37.3. (2004): 277-302. Print

Bataille, Georges. Death and Sensuality: A Study of Eroticism and the Taboo. New

York: Walker and Company. 1962. Print.

Dentith, Simon.” Bakhtin's carnival”. Bakhtinian Thought: An Introductory Reader.

London and New York: Routledge. 1995. 65-88. Print

Edgar, David. “Festivals of the Oppressed”. new formations. 3. (1987): 19-32. Print

Foucault, Michel. Power/ Knowledge: selected interviews and other writings 1972-

1977. New York: Harvester Press. 1980. Print

Hieberrt, Ted. “Becoming Carnival: Performing a Postmodern Identity”. Performance

Research. 8.3. (2003): 113-125. Print

Holquist, Michael. “Bakhtin and Rabelais: Theory as Praxis”. Boundary. 11.1/2 (1982-

1983): 5-19. Print.


Hoy, Mikita. “Bakhtin and Popular Culture”. New Literary History. 23.3. (1992): 765-

782. Print

Hutcheon, Linda. “The Carnivalesque and Contemporary Narrative: Popular Culture

and the Erotic”. Literary History. 3. (1971): 5-30. Print.

Lachmann, Renate, Raoul Eshelman and Marc Davis. “Bakhtin and Carnival: Culture

as Counter-Culture”. Cultural Critique. 11. (1988-1989): 115-152. Print

Mbembe, Achilles. “Necropolitics”. Public Culture. 15.1. (2003): 11-40. Print

---. “The Banality of Power and the Aesthetics of of Vulgarity in the Postcolony”.

Anthropology of the State: A Reader. Ed. Sharma, Aradhana. Malden, Massachusetts:

Blackwell Publishing. 2006. Print

Mda, Zakes. Ways of Dying. Cape Town: Oxford University Press South Africa. 1995.

Print


Declaration of Academic Integrity

I hereby declare that the Master Thesis entitled Looking for Bakhtin in Zakes Mda’s

“Ways of Dying” has been carried out at the University of Bayreuth, Bayreuth, Germany

under the guidance of Prof. Dr. Susan Arndt. The work is original and has not been

submitted in part of in full by me or any other degree or diploma at any other university.

I further declare that the material obtained from other sources has been duly

acknowledged in this thesis.

________________________________ _____________________________

Date, Place Renzo Baas

Looking for Bakhtin in Zakes Mda's 'Ways of Dying'

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