Dialnet DefianceAPostcolonialNovelByTheEthiopianAbbieGubeg 3643203 PDF
Dialnet DefianceAPostcolonialNovelByTheEthiopianAbbieGubeg 3643203 PDF
Dialnet DefianceAPostcolonialNovelByTheEthiopianAbbieGubeg 3643203 PDF
This article seeks to divulge general knowledge about the varied and rich cul-
tural, linguistic and literary heritage of the oldest African nation, i.e., Ethiopia.
In addition, it studies in some detail the impact of European colonialism on that
heritage: firstly, Italian and then British colonialism, and finally the constant
struggle of the proud Ethiopian people for their freedom against any invader.
Among the literary examples provided as case studies, attention will be mainly
focused on a 1975 novel —Defiance— by the Ethiopian writer Abbie Gubegna.
This novel was published in English, but it is based on previous texts in Am-
haric, the national language of culture and literature. It clearly and effectively
symbolizes all the ideas in play: from the struggle against invading Italian Fas-
cism to the deep appreciation of Ethiopia’s indigenous culture. The article ends
with a discussion of postcolonial Ethiopian literature in English, which until now
remains largely unknown for many readers.
Key words: Ethiopia, Defiance, Abbie Gubegna, poscolonial literature, transla-
tion, Italian Fascism.
1. Introduction
o begin with, it is not a very well–known fact that, from the late
But neither the memory of King Solomon and the Queen of Sheba,
its sound Christian credentials, rich cultural and written literary tradition nor
continuous political independence saved Ethiopia from colonialism or pre-
vented its people and lands from grabbing the attention of the imperial
European nations of the time, in other words, Italy and the United Kingdom.
2.2. Ethiopia and Italy
The first Italian advances in the Horn of Africa region date back to
the 1870s when Italian companies first settled in the city of Assab on the
Red Sea (Pakenham 2006: 681–694). Years later, in 1882, the Italian gov-
ernment took over this city of Assab, and soon after a second city in the
area evacuated by the Egyptians: Massawa. This was the origin of the Ital-
ian colony of Eritrea – a region frequently regarded as Ethiopian – located
north of Ethiopia proper, and of the direct interventions of Italy in the politi-
cal life of the African nation, i.e. after King John had been killed fighting the
Sudanese Mahdists rebels, much infighting succeeded and Menelik II could
proclaim himself Emperor only with Italian backing on 2 May 1889. Conse-
quently, he could not avoid signing the Treaty of Wichale with Italians on 6
September 1889, recognising Italy’s ‘special interest’ in his country
(McEvedy 1995: 112). Indeed, the Italians had never made a secret of their
intentions in Africa, as during the Berlin Conference in 1884, they notified
the Powers, according to the requirements of the Berlin Act, that Italy
claimed the entire Ethiopian empire as an Italian protectorate (Pakenham
2006: 473).
This Treaty supposedly sought to promote eternal peace and
friendship between Ethiopia and Italy, which it did not do from the very
beginning. It was soon disclosed that the bilingual document, which was
written in Amharic and Italian, presented a dramatic difference in the word-
ing of its Section 17. The Amharic version said that Ethiopia might use the
services of the Italian government to contact other European governments.
However, the Italian version stated very firmly that Ethiopia had to use the
services of the Italians to deal with other European powers, which was in-
deed a loss of sovereignty. When Menelik II realised that he had been
cheated, he rushed to denounce the Treaty and Italian claims, but it was
too late. Italy had taken advantage of the ambiguity to regard Ethiopia as a
protectorate, to communicate the fact to the rest of the European powers,
and to get the international approval of the de facto situation. The British
government, for example, recognised this Italian protectorate over Ethiopia
in 1891.
In the early 1890s, Italy was still completing the conquest of Eritrea
and, with British permission, taking over Zanzibar’s stake in what was going
to be known as Italian Somaliland. But as soon as they freed themselves
from the urgency associated with those colonial ventures, they resumed
their unfinished Ethiopian affair and were determined to place a definite
squeeze on the Abyssinian nation – an annexationist aim that they did not
ever try to hide.
Finally, in 1895, the Italians began the invasion of Ethiopia from Eri-
trea with 10 000 European troops, but, to their grief, they not only underes-
timated the Ethiopians’ capacity of reaction to the ordeal and their warring
equipment, but they were also unfamiliar with the land and made many
tactical mistakes.
His Majesty Menelik II, King of Kings, staged a dramatic call to
wage war on the enemy and soon 100 000 men gathered and moved north
to save their nation and their independence. On 1 March 1896, they finally
beat the Italians in the Battle of Adowa, a town just south of the Eritrean–
Abyssinian border, where Menelik’s troops crushed the forces of Italian
Generals Baratieri and Baldissera, killing around 15000 Italian soldiers and
taking thousands of prisoners.
The Ethiopians surprised the world by defeating a colonial power
and remaining independent under the rule of Menelik II. Under the shadow
of those fantastic peaks at Adowa, Italy endured the bloodiest defeat – a
catastrophe – ever endured by a colonial power in Africa (Pakenham 2006:
475). The whole of Europe learned about that African nation that wiped out
a colonial army.
By signing a new Treaty Italy soon had to recognise Ethiopia’s un-
qualified independence in exchange for Italian prisoners, and it was forced
to give up its claims to Abyssinia and its hope of linking Eritrea with Somali-
land (McEvedy 1995: 114). However, Ethiopia still agreed to let Italy keep
Eritrea (González–Núñez 2006: 105–106).This concession on the part of
Ethiopia had been the source of much conflict and warfare, and it meant
that the desire for the independence of Eritrea, as a different nation from
Ethiopia, was born and determined to persevere. After World War II, Eritre-
ans wanted independence but eventually (in 1952) found themselves feder-
ated with Ethiopia whether they liked it or not (McEvedy 1995: 120). Eritrea
gained its independence from Ethiopia after a bloody war, de facto in 1991,
and de jure in 1993.
However, that was not going to be the end of the story. Forty years
after the Italian defeat, Italian dictator Benito Mussolini who invented Fas-
cism took revenge.
Adowa – that short word – was synonymous with shame and dis-
honour for the Italian people for many years. As late as 1935, national poet
D’Annunzio declared that he still felt the shameful scar of Adowa on his
back.
His words did not fall on deaf ears. On 3 October 1935, the Italians
invaded Abyssinia again: that supposedly friendly–allied nation from 1896.
Mussolini was determined not only to wipe out the memory of Adowa, but
also to construct an East African Italian Empire – an Empire under the sun,
as he referred to it – and this time things were done better. The invasion
started from Eritrea in the North and Italian Somaliland in the South. He
deployed the most powerful army that the African continent had ever seen,
sending half a million troops, under the command of General Pietro Ba-
doglio, with aerial bombardment and poison gas (González–Núñez 2006:
105).
After a seven–month campaign, Abyssinian resistance was broken,
and on 5 May 1936, Italian forces captured the capital, Addis Ababa. Soon
after that, on 9 May, Ethiopia was turned into an Italian province to be
added to the Italian possessions in Eritrea and Somaliland, and Mussolini
announced the creation of the Eastern Africa Fascist Empire (McEvedy
1995: 120; Meredith 2006: 4–5).
The Ethiopian army and people again offered a fierce resistance,
but it was insufficient this time. The so–called patriots – or popular militia or
guerrilla army – even made an attempt against the life of Italian Vice–Roy
Graziani in 1937.
Emperor Haile Selassie had previously managed to flee into exile in
England on 2 May 1936. Soon after, on 30 July 1936, he participated in a
plenary session of the League of Nations in Geneva (Switzerland). It was a
fully momentous historical speech: he demanded the justice due to his peo-
ple very emphatically, and claimed that at stake was not only the very exis-
tence of the League of Nations, but also the principles of international legal-
ity. In dire straits, he had to wait five years in exile in the city of Bath.
Haile Selassie, the Negus, definitely knew about the threats to his
nation, but wrongly sought the support of the United Kingdom and the
League of Nations, of which Ethiopia was a full member, and the principles
of international law would suffice and work to protect them. But Mussolini
proved that he did not care about international law or the principles of the
League of Nations. And England did not risk intervening in a worthless ef-
fort to save a peace that was not to last much longer anyway (González–
Núñez 2006: 144–145).
2.3. Ethiopia and the United Kingdom
The second European power with a colonial history in Ethiopia was
the United Kingdom. The first instance of this was the invasion of British
troops suffered by the African kingdom in 1867 during the reign of King–
Emperor Theodore II.
Theodore was the providential figure that the country demanded in
one of its worst historical predicaments: he saved it from chaos and re-
stored royal power over provincial barons with manic determination. But he
was also a capricious and proud individual. In 1864, because Queen Victoria
did not reply to one of his letters, he summoned the British Consul before
him, put him in irons and incarcerated him in the fortress of Magdala. To
get him out, the British had to send an army from India, an expedition of
redcoats in 1867. This force, under the command of General Robert Napier
and 32 000 strong, duly marched from Massawa, on the Red Sea, to Mag-
dala, building its own railway as it went. They brought Theodore to heel,
captured the fortress and released the Consul in April 1868 and then re-
turned to India. Disraeli’s government had no plans then for a new Africa
colony. From a financial point of view, it was a disaster that cost the British
(and Indian) taxpayer nine million pounds (Pakenham 2006: 681–683).
But things were much worse for Ethiopia and its King. As Napier
marched back to the coast, he left the local warlords to scramble for the
imperial throne among themselves (Pakenham 2006: 470–471). After Mag-
dala was captured, Theodore committed suicide by shooting himself with a
revolver sent to him by the very Queen Victoria. He appeared to have la-
boured in vain (McEvedy 1995: 107–108).
Many years later, when Mussolini invaded Ethiopia, the United
Kingdom supposedly played the role of liberator and guarantor of the inde-
pendence of the African nation. But things were not so simple and honour-
able.
The whole world of civilized and independent nations accepted the
Italian conquest, as the British government officially did in 1938. The prior-
ity was not to cross Mussolini. None of the protests and petitions from the
exiled Emperor were answered. But in June 1940, everything changed:
Mussolini declared war on France and the United Kingdom. After four years
of solitary resistance, the Ethiopian patriots thought that the Allies were
finally going to support them and their cause.
The British undoubtedly also wanted to beat the Italians in Ethiopia
and favour the insurrection, but their overall plans for the country were very
different from those of the Emperor’s and his fighters. In other words:
1) They never criticised the Italian conquest.
2) They never recognised the Emperor and his government.
3) They did not support a newly independent Ethiopia, but a protec-
its own.
3.1. Geez
History and Literary History teach that when the Ethiopian Christian
Church was founded in the fourth century AD, political power was in the
hands of the Aghazi people who had established the empire of Axum. It
was their dialect, Geez, that was used for translating the Gospels and other
sacred books. For a long time, this Geez literature was limited to transla-
tions of religious books from the Arabic and the Greek: they included the
Scriptures – the Old and the New Testaments – and the lives of the saints
and other holy books. Secular writings in the form of chronicles of the suc-
cessive Ethiopian monarchs and their reigns were also compiled, such as
the monumental Kebra Nagast or the “Glory of the Kings”, a literary store-
house of legend and tradition. But the most important literary achievement
in the language is a form of hymnal poetry known as qenè (Gérard 1993b:
24).
By the thirteenth century, original religious and didactic works in
Geez were appearing, together with some translations of Arabic writings.
And it is also true that the language continued to be used in writing until
the beginning of the present century, although it was meaningless to all but
a small number of Church–educated Ethiopians (Beer 1986: 982–983).
3.2. Amharic
By the 10th century AD, the centre of gravity of the empire had
moved south to Amhara country, where a different language – Amharic –
was spoken. This language, today’s first language of multilingual Ethiopia, is
the second Semitic language in the World, after Arabic, and has its own
alphabet, inherited from the old Geez alphabet.
But although Amharic became the dominant everyday dialect then,
Geez remained in use for religious and scholarly writing. And although it
was practised only by a thin, elite layer of the population, which was closely
connected with the power of the Church and State, it retained its status as
Ethiopia’s cultural tongue, and its function was similar to that of Latin in
Western Europe or Greek in the Byzantine Empire.
However, some writing, mainly poetry, began to be produced in
Amharic in the 15th century, covering the secular spheres of life. Because of
its secular inspiration, it differed greatly from Geez poetry. It consists
mainly of war songs and praise poems in honour of the political and military
rulers of the time.
But at the end of the 19th century, Emperor Theodore II realised
that the conservative theocratic structure of the country was anachronistic
David Beer also makes explicit his own opinion and critical views of
the Ethiopian literature in English that he has studied:
Daniachew Worku’s unusual novel, the poetry of Solomon Deressa,
and the drama and poems of Tsegaye Gabre–Medhim are undoubt-
edly the high points of over twelve years of Ethiopian writing in
English – writing which, although not occupying a very considerable
position in the canon of English creative literature in Africa, is still
worthy of attention (Beer 1986: 997).
He also adds a general comment on the future of this literature
from his temporal viewpoint: “Writing in the late seventies, one does not
know what to predict for the future of Ethiopian literature in English” (Beer
1986: 998). Today, from an early 21st century perspective, it can be claimed
that this national literature in English does not seem to have rendered any
number of great works or writers as yet, but more research is probably still
needed into the matter.
4. A postcolonial national literature?
Can Ethiopia claim to have produced, for better or worse, a post-
colonial national literature in English? This is a most intriguing question,
especially after having analysed that the country was neither aloof nor unaf-
fected by European colonialism and postcolonialism – which indeed ex-
tended from before 1867 to 1955 – as is commonly thought (the only Afri-
can nation not to experience the yoke of colonial rule).
In other words, Ethiopia has a long and traumatic colonial and post-
colonial past that lasted around one century, involving two colonial Euro-
pean powers: Italy and the United Kingdom. That experience has also en-
joyed some literary treatment in one of the main European–African lan-
guages: English. And it is a treatment that presents very peculiar traits, due
to the existence of a very strong literary tradition in some of its vernacular
languages.
6. Defiance
The story of Defiance is set in 1937 during the Italian occupation of
Addis Ababa: the capital city of the nation and a place where the horrors of
war form the background to the lives of a group of freedom–fighters, col-
laborators with the invading regime and Fascist oppressors. It presents in
vivid detail the Ethiopian vision of those trying years and the strategies of
resistance developed against the Fascist Italian invader. In other words,
Defiance can be termed a unique example of conflicting rights and compet-
ing discourses during the years of the Italian invasion, made fiction and
published years later, in 1975, under the new shelter of an emerging post-
colonial context being experienced by Ethiopian letters in those years.
The novel is fully postcolonial for its chronology and for its ideologi-
cal mindset, but it is possible to be more precise and make use of the ty-
pology proposed by Peter Hallward, which can be summarised as follows:
Colonial: clear–cut and absolute hierarchical distinction between
ruler and ruled. Division and conflict: forced labour, intimidation,
pressure, the police, taxation, theft and rape.
Postcolonial: More consensual, harmonious domain, multiple identi-
ties, travelling theory, migration, Diaspora, cultural synthesis and
mutation.
Countercolonial: liberation struggle, keep the primary Manicheism
that governed colonial society, a world of constituent antagonisms
and sharply demarcated interests, militant and partisan by defini-
tion, engagement, position, mobilisation, division and conflict (Hall-
ward 2001: xiii–xiv).
Under this new light, Defiance can be termed an almost perfect ex-
ample of ‘countercolonial’ literature, and be interpreted by the power of a
term that has already been mentioned: ‘resistance’, clearly implied by its
title, or ‘literary resistance’, which has been defined as follows: “that cate-
gory of literary writing which emerges as an integral part of an organized
struggle or resistance for national liberation” (Slemon 1996: 77–78). In
1975, the need for resistance against the Italian invader was long overdue,
but not the idea, postcolonial and universal, to resist an abusive and intrud-
ing power that must be added to the exercise of necessary remembrance in
search of collective catharsis.
It is well known to the postcolonial study of colonialism and the
long and discontinuous process of decolonisation that the colonised were
never successfully pacified and that there is abundant evidence of native
disaffection and dissent under colonial rule, and of contestation and strug-
tion, since the balance of material and cultural power tends to lie
with the former colonizers (Bery 2000: 3).
English has been described as a borrowed tongue… Examples in
which the English language no longer retains its original native
characteristics after being ‘borrowed’ are more plentiful…The Eng-
lish language used may indeed become so different from the lan-
guage as it is spoken in England that it becomes less of a borrowed
tongue, because its relationship to English in the country of its na-
tive origin has become tenuous… This borrowed tongue is so en-
trenched in the culture of many of the ‘borrowers’ that they can be-
come more proficient in it than the ‘lenders’ (Talib 2002: 100–101).
Some authors, in writing their works in English, have made a con-
scious attempt to make use of their national, ethnic or religious
myths, beliefs, aesthetic outlook, philosophy and even language
(Talib 2002: 102).
The project of the reformation of natives’ minds, by assigning the
mark of the negative to everything African and the positive to eve-
rything European, was designed to socialize Africans to despise
their history and culture and, therefore, themselves. It was to im-
part in them, to make them freely accept, an inferiority complex
that perpetually yearns for Europeanness (Olaniyan 2000: 269–
281).
Among Africans, Ethiopians have never had any inferiority complex
whatsoever and have always been very proud of their culture and nation.
And so they created a kind of local, hybrid English language full of native
words and expressions, without translation or with a translation or a gloss
added. According to Vega (2003: 167–169) the types of linguistic overlap-
ping can range from the use of foreign words with or without explanation or
translation, to the mixing and/or fusion of the structures of both languages
and code–switching. All these mechanisms seek to reproduce the cultural
difference involved.
Ex am ples
Besides his omissions and amendments, he addressed the old hero
in the polite form of address, erswo, on behalf of the fascist general
(Gubegna 1975: 3–4).
“If you can tell it to me, I can.”
“Porco!”
“Assama, pig!” said the interpreter.
(Gubegna 1975: 13)
“They choose beautiful girls and take them for wives. They simply
call them their thigh–maids, he–tchin geredoch. They wait with
these women until the lucky days when they can with the love of
some idle, haughty bitch from the nobility. When these pitiable gen-
tlemen marry their ideal ladies, widows or rejected girls, kummo
keroch, from the upper class, they reduce themselves to the state
of their poor thigh–maids” (Gubegna 1975: 21).
Lady Wesenie and her two daughters were sitting on the verandah
and weeping. Deggu bowed to them politely.
“Tena–Yistilign. Endemin allachihu – may God give you health for
me. How are you?”
(Gubegna 1975: 42)
The fitawrari, who was shrouded from head to foot in a thick bul-
luku, got up from his specially–made, long chair and limped to the
door (Gubegna 1975: 46).
“Be–ente sima le–Mariam – in the name of Mary,” he said aloud
(Gubegna 1975: 137).
At the end of the book, a convenient glossary of Amaharic and Ital-
ian words is provided (Gubegna 1975: 186–189).
7.2. Defiance , self–translation and bilingual texts
Another area of interest, within the proposal elaborated by Scholars
of Translation Studies, for Ethiopian postcolonial literature in English is that
concerned with the study of self–translation and, consequently, bilingual
texts.
‘Self–translation’ or ‘autotranslation’ has traditionally been defined
as the translation of an original work into another language by the author
himself, having aroused many debates on the issue of ‘faithfulness’, as the
author–translator will feel justified to introduce changes to his or her text
where an ordinary translator might hesitate to do so (Shuttleworth 1993:
13). Consequently, many scholars have considered ‘self–translation’ and
‘true or ordinary translation’ to be two different phenomena.
Hokenson and Munson recently made a solid contribution to this
debate with the concept of ‘bilingual text’ (2007: 1–16), by which they
mean the following: “What is the bilingual text? Like Bacon’s treatises or
Nabokov’s novels, the bilingual text is a self–translation, authored by a
writer who can compose in different languages and who translates his or
her own texts from one language into another” (Hokenson 2007: 1). In
other words, a ‘bilingual text’ is a kind of double language original–
ción del Ministerio de Educación y Ciencia (ref. HUM 2006–02725) titulado: “La
hibridización en la producción literaria indeoceánica en lengua inglesa y france-
sa: convergencias y divergencias. Estudio contrastivo de un sistema literario
emergente” del Centre d’Estudis i de Recerca d’Humanitats de la Universitat
Autònoma de Barcelona.
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