On Translating Fadhy Mtanga

Fadhy Mtanga is a contemporary Swahili author from Tanzania. We originally connected in the colorful corner of Twitter devoted to all things Swahili. I was drawn to the sly, subtly literary way he interacted online with his close friends. They had an ongoing joke involving a soup made from meat and bananas, called mtori. I liked how Fadhy’s statements and boasts about the soup obscured as much as they revealed; he seemed to walk the line between guarded and outgoing with grace, always leaving plenty of room for interpretation. Our first project together was a translation of his short story “Haiba,” which was commissioned by Two Lines Press and went on to be included (as “Attitudes”) in their first-of-its-kind collection of Swahili fiction, No Edges: Swahili Stories, which was published in 2023.

Fadhy is very prodigious. He’s published five novels, a poetry collection and a great number of short stories. Most of his prose feels ultra-contemporary, with narratives set in specific locations in Tanzania that focus on gender and class dynamics, relationship issues, workplace issues. In his writing, Fadhy tends to incorporate a fair amount of English, which reflects the lived multilingual experience of people (especially young people) in East Africa. The different ways in which characters sprinkle English into their Swahili usually suggests something about them. In “Haiba,” the protagonist, a young woman who is seen as insolent, makes a verb phrase out of the English verb mind: “huwezi kumind mambo yako mwenyewe?” which translates to, “Can’t you mind your own business?” The older, more distinguished character to whom she’s speaking responds, “Sikuwa nazungumza nawe” (I wasn’t talking to you), followed by, in italicized English, “Mind your tongue, young lady.” Fadhy is also an expert at portraying how Swahili continually reinvents itself. He does more than portray it—he actively participates in linguistic innovation by coining neologisms and translating the clever contractions of spoken Swahili to the page.

What drew me to “Two Friends” and its two companion pieces (“Life Struggles” and “The Old Man Who Searched for Happiness,” both of which were published in the Fall 2022 issue of Northwest Review) is how much they stand out from Fadhy’s other stories. For one, they’re very brief. I initially thought of these pieces as Swahili flash fiction. But I ended up preferring how Fadhy and I came to refer to them in Swahili: “hadithi fupi fupi,” or “short short stories.”

In stark contrast to a story like “Haiba,” which takes place on a bus speeding from Iringa, Tanzania, to Dar es Salaam, “Two Friends” unfolds in a setting that is universal, almost fable-like: an unnamed desert at an unspecified time. There is some sort of lesson to be learned, but it’s a little ambiguous what it is. It isn’t clear whether Muli’s question at the end is an accurate encapsulation of the story’s moral, or if the author is playing with the idea that a short, short story ought to have a moral. Or maybe Muli is presenting a new interpretation altogether, something his friend Tana hadn’t yet considered. I imagine both characters in a contemplative state, long after the story is over.

When I had the pleasure of visiting Fadhy Mtanga in June 2023, in his beloved city of Mbeya, it was our first opportunity to discuss his stories in person. Over dinner, we came up with a metaphor for this distinctive feature of his writing, which is especially pronounced in his shortest stories. “Mtori style,” we called it. Yes, that same mtori. The meat in the soup sometimes isn’t visible until you get to the bottom of the bowl, Fadhy explained. He liked the idea that readers, when questioning the meaning of his stories, had to scrape their spoons against the stories’ endings. And if they still couldn’t figure out what the story meant? “Keep digging,” Fadhy instructed. Although he usually presents his metaphor in an archeological context as opposed to a gastronomic one, Nobel laureate Abdulrazak Gurnah (who is also a part of Swahili literature) often equates writing with digging, as well. Of course, Fadhy is referring to what the reader must do. But I can only assume that, upon completion of one of his narratives, Fadhy finds himself in the same pensive state that he describes his characters in and prescribes to his readers.

One last note about “Two Friends.” Fadhy originally published, on his Medium page, a version of the story that was about half the length of the one translated here. It was very sparse, but functioned well on its own terms. The longer version of “Two Friends,” which is still under 600 source-text words, fills in some details. The friends, who now have names, get in an argument about soccer, for instance, whereas in the earlier version their conflict arises out of unspecified jeering. The longer version of “Two Friends” was published in its original Swahili in late 2023, in Twiga, the inflight magazine of Air Tanzania.

Whether you’re reading in the sky, on the bus, or seated at home, karibu mtori. Enjoy the soup.

“Marafiki Wawili”

na Fadhy Mtanga

SIKU MOJA MARAFIKI wawili, Tana na Muli walikuwa wakitembea jangwani. Ilikuwa kawaida yao kuongozana huku n akule katika mawindo ya riziki zao za kila siku. Urafiki wao umedumu tangu na tangu. Si tu walizaliwa kipindi kimoja, ama kusema walisoma shule moja, la. Bali pia, wameishi kwa kushibana na kuwa pamoja katika nyakati nyingi za maisha yao.

Walisindikizana maeneo mengi na kufanya mambo mengi kwa pamoja. Kuna nyakati walifurahiana na nyakati zingine waligombana. Hivi ndivyo wawazo marafiki wawao wowote.

Katika safari yao hii ya jangwani, walisafiri kwa muda mrefu. Safari iliwachosha vilivyo. Mchanga wa jangwani ulikuwa wa moto kutokana na jua kali lililoitandika sura ya nchi. Kutembea juu ya mchanga huo kuliwaumiza kupindukia. Pamoja na maumivu hayo ya jua kali na mchanga wa moto, waliendelea na michapo ya hapa na pale.

Walisimuliana kuhusua masuala ya watu wengine wanaofahamiana nao. Wakateta hili na lile. Wakasimuliana juu ya siasa za ukanda wao kwa ujumla. Wakasimuliana kuhusu kandanda. Ukizingatia walishabikia timu tofauti, masimulizi ya kandanda yakazaa ubishani. Ubishani ukakolea na kukomaa hata kumfanya mmojawapo kughadhabika.

Tana alichukulia kirahisi ghadhabu za Muli, akaendelea kumchombeza na utani mwingi Zaidi. Muli akashindwa kujizuia, akamchapa Tana kofi la nguvu. Kofi lilimkolea sana Tana. Siyo tu lilimfanya apepesukie mbali, vilevile, lilimpa muwasho wa uzamivu shavuni kwake, achilia mbali maumivu ya kina.

Maumivu kwa Tana hayakumithilika. Alijikuta akitokwa machozi kama mtoto mdogo. Alimtazama Muli hata asijue amfanye nini. Alifungua kinywa chake aseme neno, bado halikutoka. Akainuka na kujikung’uka vumbi. Kisha, akachuchumaa na kuandika kwenye mchanga, "Leo, rafiki yangu mkubwa amenichapa kofi usoni pangu."

Muli aliyatazama maandishi hayo kwa bezo. Naye, hakusema neno. Wala, hakuwa na muda ya kuyatafakari maandishi hayo zaidi ya kuwaza, ‘hii imeenda hii.’

Wakaendelea na safari yao pasipo kusemezana kabisa. Kila mmoja na lake kichwani. Safari iliwachosha maradufu. Kuzungumza baina yao kungekuwa kumeiraihisha kama ambavyo hutokea nyakati zingine. Hii ya leo ilikuwa kali.

Wakati wakiendelea na safari huku kila mmoja na lwake, waliona kisima. Kilikuwa na maji machache sana. Kila mmoja alishikwa na kiu kisawasawa. Huku hawaongeleshani, kila mmoja aliinama upande wake katika juhudi za kuyafikia maji walau ayachote kwa kiganja anywe.

Hamadi, Tana akatelezea ndani ya kisima hicho ambacho pembeni kilikuwa na shimo refu lililoashiria uwepo wa pango. Kitu pekee alichofanikiwa kukifanya kilikuwa kupiga yowe.

Kabla Tana hajafika mbali, Muli alifanikiwa kumdaka mkono. Akatumia nguvu zote kumvuta. Akafanikiwa kumwokoa. Tana alikuwa nyang’anyang’a akihema peapea. Muli alimlaza Tana pembeni na kumsaidia huduma ya kwanza. Zilipita dakika kadhaa huku Muli akiendelea kumhudumia Tana. Hatimaye, Tana alitulia na kurejea kwenye hali yake. Sehemu ya nguo zake zilikuwa na mchanga na tope kidogo.

Tana alitembea kidogo hadi kwenye jiwe kubwa. Akatoa kalamu rashasha yenye wino usiofutika. Akaandika maandishi makubwa juu ya lile jabari, akisema, "Rafiki yangu mkubwa ameyaokoa maisha yangu leo."

Muli, ambaye awali alimtandika Tana kofi la uzamivu, alishangaa mno kuyasoma maandishi yale. Hakuelewa mantiki yake. Akaona isiwe shida, akamwuliza, "Tana, nilipokupiga kofi na kukuumiza, uliandika kwenye mchanga, na sasa, umeandika kwenye jiwe. Ni kwa nini?"

Tana akamtazama Muli akitabasamu. Akamshika mkono huku akimtazama kwa chati. Ndipo, akamjibu, "Pale inapoondokea mtu fulani akakuumiza maishani, unapaswa kuyaandika masononeko yako mchangani, ili pindi upepo wa kusamehe unapovuma, maandishi hayo yafutiliwe mbali.”

Muli alionesha kusikiliza kwa kina. Ikamfanya Tana kuendelea kuzungumza kwa tuo, “Lakini, pale inapoondokea mtu akakutendea jambo jema, unapaswa kuuandika wema huo kwenye jiwe na kwa kalamu yenye wino wa kudumu, ambako hakuna upepo duniani, wala jua, wala mvua, vitakavyoweza kuyafuta maandishi hayo.”

Muli aliyastaajabia maneno ya rafikiye. Alibaki kimya kwa nukta kadhaa akijaribu kutafuta maneno sahihi ya kusema. Baadaye, akamwambia Tana, "Kumbe, sipaswi kuvithamini vitu nilivyonavyo maishani, bali, kuwathamini watu nilionao maishani."

Tana hakumjibu. Yungali akiyatafakari maneno yale.

Two friends, Tana and Muli, were walking through the desert one day. They were used to accompanying each other hither and yon. They were the same age and had gone to the same schools. They’d been shoulder to shoulder, in each other’s presence ever since they were born. Everywhere they went, everything they did, they went and did together. Sometimes they got along and other times they quarreled. That’s how it goes when you’re old friends.

The journey through the desert was long and tiring. Fierce sun beat down on the sand and made the desert floor so hot that it singed their feet. They exchanged little stories about this and that to counter the brutal heat.

First they traded tales about people they knew, calling each other out over minor details. Then they covered the realm of local politics. Then they moved on to the sphere of football. Bear in mind they were fans of rival teams; it was the conversations about football that gave way to open disputes. Their bickering intensified to the point where Muli became exasperated. Tana interpreted Muli’s anger as playfulness, and went on baiting him. Muli couldn’t take it anymore. He whapped Tana with an open palm.

Tana’s pain was incomparable. He shed tears like a little boy. He stared at Muli, unsure how to respond. He opened his mouth but no words came out. Finally, he got up and brushed himself clean. Then he squatted down and wrote in the sand: Today, my best friend slapped me.

Muli looked at the writing with scorn. He said nothing. He didn’t consider the words’ meaning beyond acknowledging to himself, So—it’s now come to this.

They continued on without a word, each immersed in their own thoughts. It made the journey twice as tiring. If only they would have spoken, conversation would’ve eased the travel. Today’s silence was all-encompassing.

Up in the distance, a spring came into view. When they got to it, they found it contained little water. Gripped by thirst, Tana and Muli each knelt down and began drawing up water with their hands.

Suddenly, Tana slipped into a hole at the edge of the spring. It looked like it opened up into a cavern. He let out a scream.

Just as Tana was about to disappear into the cavern, Muli grabbed his arm. He expended all his energy preventing him from falling. Eventually, he succeeded in lifting him out. Tana gasped in quick, shallow breaths. Muli laid him on his back and tried to stabilize him. After a few minutes, Tana started to settle down. His clothes were speckled with sand and mud.

When Tana stood up, he walked over to a boulder and withdrew from his pocket a magic marker. He wrote on the rock in large script: Today, my best friend saved my life.

Muli, who had belted him earlier, was dumbfounded. He didn’t understand Tana’s logic. Sensing it was okay to ask, he said to his friend: “Tana, when I hit you earlier, you wrote in the sand. Why, now, are you writing on stone?”

Tana looked at Muli and smiled. He took a hold of his hand and gazed at him intently. “When someone hurts you,” he said, “you’re obliged to write your grievances in the sand, so they’ll scatter as soon as the winds of forgiveness begin to blow.”

Muli was eager to hear more; after a pause, Tana continued. “But when someone shows you kindness,” he explained, “you must record it in permanent ink. Neither the fiercest winds, heaviest rains nor most blistering rays of sun can erase what’s inscribed in stone.”

Muli was amazed. He remained quiet, searching for the proper words. Later on, he said to his friend: “So I should value the people, not the things in my life. Is that it?”

Tana didn't answer him. Even now, he’s still mulling over his friend’s words.

Translated and published with permission of the author.