Tuning in…
Tuning in…
Desert Island Discs
Presented by Sue Lawley
Poet described as the most important African poet writing in English; imprisoned in Malawi; now teaches at Newcastle University.
Eight records
There was a time when, to be honest, prison was the only place we understood what was going on. So that we were actually singing as prisoners, political prisoners, I can see so this is why I love this.
Doctor Banda's concubine or mistress was called Cecilia, and the only way anybody could fight back is to sing this song. The thing is, after singing it for some time, everybody thought this song referred to Cecilia and and Banda, and as a result, it was banned.
This is a traditional African prayer done in modern guitars and modern instruments.
This was the link record between me and my family when I was put in prison. On my first birthday, for instance, in prison, the children wrote me a letter which was smuggled in and they said, Dad, we're going to put Shalala for you on your birthday.
This one is um is very special to me because it talks about love and so on and occasionally and on this island I would like to to remember my o memories of um of the lo loved ones.
This one is um a jolly celebratory sort of um record. I love it and um every time I I I take my car and drive to to Newcastle to teach, I put this record on.
Dido Armstrong & Rollo Armstrong
Thirteen years I've been living effectively in a suitcase, traveling from one place to another... I haven't had a home at all till last year when Newcastle gave me the permanent job. So I've been a sort of a wanderer, and this one just does it for me.
Ave MariaFavourite
Janet Coxwell & Christopher Enston
When I came to England, Gillian Tyndall, Alistair Niven, and all those who had been fighting for me, invited me to celebrate a Thanksgiving service at St. Bride's in Fleet Street... So that was very special from St. Bride's and effectively thank you to everybody who fought for me.
The keepsakes
The luxury
I would like somebody to buy me a guitar. I've always wanted to play the guitar, so can I take a guitar as a luxury on this island?
In conversation
Presenter asks
How long, in fact, were you in prison, Jack?
Three years, seven months, sixteen days and more than twelve hours.
Presenter asks
Did you hold [the poems] all in your head and just fish them out later, or were they still there, intact?
After about year one there I had written in my head about twenty five poems, and these were complete from the title to to the last line. By the time I was uh released from prison after three and a half years, I only remembered the titles. I can tell you right now that I have recovered about uh twenty out of the twenty five.
Presenter asks
The recording
Timestamps play the recording from that turn
Speaker 1
Hello, I'm Kirsty Young, and this is a podcast from the Desert Island Discs archive. For rights reasons we've had to shorten the music. The programme was originally broadcast in two thousand and four, and the presenter was Sue Lawley.
Presenter
My Cosaway this week is a poet. He's been described as the most important African poet writing in English to day, but his journey to such a distinguished position has been a hard one.
Presenter
Brought up by his mother in the British colony of Nyasaland, his childhood was poor, but he was clever enough to win a decent education and went to university in the New Malawi and later in England. At the age of thirty-nine he returned home and became head of English in his country's university, but a few years later he was arrested by Malawi's dictator Hastings Bander and thrown into prison. No reasons given, no charges brought, no trial.
Presenter
God, laughter, and composing poetry kept him sane in jail. He was, as he's put it, one of the desperate voices of fractured souls.
Presenter
Pressure from international literary figures including Harold Pinter and Tom Stoppard eventually secured his release, and to day, aged sixty, he lives here and he teaches at Newcastle University.
Presenter
The legacy of his incarceration remains with him. Dictators create artists, he says people who protest. He is Jack Mapanji. How long, in fact, were you in prison, Jack?
Jack Mapanje
Three years, seven months, sixteen days and more than twelve hours.
Presenter
And this was late eighties and into the nineties, not that long ago. And you didn't know why you were there.
Jack Mapanje
Yeah.
Jack Mapanje
I was not told why I was there. I was able to speculate, but um it was just pure speculation.
Presenter
And you didn't know if you'd ever be let out.
Jack Mapanje
At that time they just grabbed you, threw you into prison.
Jack Mapanje
I never told you how long you're going to be there because you have not been charged or tried.
Presenter
Mm. And the no communication with each other.
Jack Mapanje
No communication with the outside world took about twenty-two months before my wife was allowed to visit me and the family.
Presenter
And sometimes at night they came and took people away.
Jack Mapanje
They took six.
Jack Mapanje
Condemned prisoners.
Jack Mapanje
twice every year. And so they came in the middle of the night and there was a lot of halo baloo as to who was coming in, people marching in the middle of the night and and um chained and thrown onto trucks and um shipped away and so on to scare everybody into submission. And that was more painful even for those of us who are political prisoners was more painful than any form of torture.
Presenter
Or if
Speaker 2
Uh
Speaker 2
Yeah.
Presenter
Why?
Jack Mapanje
Effectively it was psychological. It was not you, but you thought they were coming in for you.
Jack Mapanje
Because you did not know. They could easily and they had done several years before taken political prisoners and got them executed and um told the world they they passed out or they died in prison.
Presenter
Hmm.
Jack Mapanje
And there will be no trace whatsoever.
Presenter
Accidentalized is a word you use.
Jack Mapanje
Accidentalize was a word that the writers' group in the university invented.
Presenter
What does it mean?
Jack Mapanje
It means um to kill somebody and pretend it's an accident, officially kill and tell the world it's an accident.
Presenter
You've written a lot of poetry about how it was in there, and really the best way of describing it is to ask you to read a bit of this one. I wonder if you'd read the first stanza of of this poem for us. It's it's called Scrubbing the Furious Walls of Mikuyu. Mikuyu is the is the name of the maximum detention centre you were in.
Jack Mapanje
That's right, yes. Scrubbing the furious walls of Mikoyu.
Jack Mapanje
Is this where they damp those rebels? These haggard cells astinking of bucket shit and vomit and the acrid urine of yesteryears?
Jack Mapanje
Who would have thought I would be gazing at these dusty, cobwebbed ceilings of Mikuyu prison, scrubbing briny walls and riddling out impetuous scratches of another dang beetle locked up before me here?
Jack Mapanje
Violent human palms Wounded these blood blotted mosquitoes and bugs To survive, leaving these vicious red marks.
Jack Mapanje
Monstrous frying cockroaches.
Jack Mapanje
Crashed here, up there, the cobwebs trap dead bumble-bees.
Jack Mapanje
Where did black wasps get clay to build nests in this corner?
Presenter
And so it goes on, just the first stanza there. I mean, I y y you know, it's perfectly obvious you know exactly what it's like to be on a desert island, the kind of desolation, the loneliness.
Jack Mapanje
I have already in fact part been on a desert island. It's it's horrific.
Presenter
But it's it's
Presenter
But in this one you get eight records to play, so
Jack Mapanje
Okay, well that's it's a consolation.
Presenter
What's the first one you'd like?
Jack Mapanje
It's Jimmy Cliff's I can see clearly now. There was a time when, to be honest, prison was the only place we understood what was going on.
Jack Mapanje
So that we were actually singing as prisoners, political prisoners, I can see so this is why I love this.
Speaker 2
It's gone.
Speaker 2
I can see all obstacles in my way.
Speaker 2
Gone of the dark cloud.
Speaker 2
Let me go.
Speaker 2
Wanna be around Sunshine in there
Presenter
Jimmy Cliff and I can see clearly now. So poetry was crucial to your survival, Jack Mepanjee in Makuyu detention centre. You turned cockroaches into metaphors, as you've put it. But you couldn't write them down. Did you hold them all in your head and just fish them out later, or were they still there, intact?
Jack Mapanje
After about year one there I had written in my head about twenty five poems, and these were complete from the title to to the last line. By the time I was uh released from prison after three and a half years, I only remembered the titles. I can tell you right now that I have recovered about uh twenty out of the twenty five. I still are there's still five somewhere hanging around somewhere looking for somebody to incite them into sh
Presenter
So there's five still.
Presenter
The fact though, is it not? It was your poetry that got you in there in the first place. And we say there was no reason, and certainly writing poetry shouldn't be a reason, but you were essentially accused of writing subversive poetry, weren't you?
Jack Mapanje
That was the nearest and the clearest accusation. And it wasn't even accusation in the sense of um being taken to court and saying you know written root poems or whatever. But we lived in Malawi, we lived in a world where the government of Dr. Banda did not want us to achieve. Anybody who achieved anything on their own terms was looked at with a lot of suspicion.
Presenter
But what you were doing was using metaphor to criticize the regime, wasn't it? I mean g give me an example of the kind of thing. It was kind of code between you all, wasn't it?
Jack Mapanje
I mean
Jack Mapanje
Well everybody was writing indirectly. You talk about the story of the hyena and then the hyena takes on a political shape and you point in the system who the hyena is.
Presenter
And the hyena was Hastings Vandal, I presume.
Jack Mapanje
Presumably, yes. That's the most explicit poem, to be honest.
Presenter
That's the most ex
Presenter
But that you know, it would not be beyond their understanding, and to that extent, you were tempting fate, weren't you?
Jack Mapanje
To that extent, um, on h on hindsight, I was tempting fate. But then
Jack Mapanje
We needed somebody needed to take the bull by the horn, as it were, and put one's foot down.
Presenter
But that's a brave decision. Are you saying you actually took that decision? I mean, again, even the chameleons and gods, I mean, let me say this, is that you have talked about basking in your brilliant camouflage. I mean, what we're saying here is it was no camouflage.
Jack Mapanje
I was not the only comedian.
Jack Mapanje
Yeah.
Jack Mapanje
There was no camouflage, but it was camouflage according to them because they did not understand poetry, they didn't even care about poetry.
Presenter
Dividend.
Presenter
But did you take that decision? Did you think I am going to take these guys on as best I can using the tool that I have, which is the ability to write?
Jack Mapanje
Today I can say yes is the answer, but in fact, it was a joint thing. We established what was called a writers' group, who simply said we're going to meet and help each other write and write well. And I can tell you now that
Jack Mapanje
About seven from the Writers Group are all over the world having written some of the best poetry in the world.
Presenter
Dictators create artists, as you said.
Jack Mapanje
I did say.
Presenter
Tell me about record number two.
Jack Mapanje
Well r rec record number two is Cecilia by Simon Garfunkel. The story is very simple. Doctor Banda's concubine or mistress was called Cecilia, and the only way anybody could fight back is to sing this song. The thing is, after singing it for some time, everybody thought this song referred to Cecilia and and Banda, and as a result, it was banned.
Speaker 2
You're shaking my confidence daily.
Speaker 2
What to see young, come down on my knees.
Speaker 2
I'm begging you please to come home.
Speaker 2
Celia, you're breaking my heart, you're shaking my confidence.
Presenter
CICELIA, by Simon and Garfunkel. I have no doubt, Jack, that in prison you dreamed of your childhood on the shores of Lake Malawi. Can you describe it to me, the scenery, the scents?
Jack Mapanje
Half of the country is the lake and I was born um c very close to it. Uh we say back home I was born in the lake. Uh you couldn't do anything without fishing and so on and so forth. So I was born of a very poor family. My mother was not educated, but she was a very good
Jack Mapanje
Uh short story, Taylor. She used to gather us at night to
Jack Mapanje
tell us stories and folk tales and so on about animals and so on and so forth. My father left my mother when she was pregnant of me. He went to South Africa with my uncle and um never returned.
Presenter
Had he left to search for work?
Jack Mapanje
Well because everybody went to South Africa or Zimbabwe then to the mines to to work and get money and uh so they can feed the the children.
Presenter
Did he relate to you? Did you hear that?
Presenter
So you've never met him?
Jack Mapanje
I've never met him.
Presenter
I see.
Jack Mapanje
Yeah.
Presenter
So he never came back in the middle of the morning.
Jack Mapanje
He never he never came back.
Presenter
I was alone.
Jack Mapanje
I was alone with my mother and my mother
Presenter
Three small children she had.
Jack Mapanje
Three small children as it were, and my mother used to brew beer to send us to school, to get to get the fees for the school. She was a very imaginative woman, so um here I am.
Presenter
And what did you live in? What was the house?
Jack Mapanje
We lived in an ordinary house, grass-thatched and mad house.
Jack Mapanje
had um the usual garden uh where we planted maize and other um types of food, pumpkins and various things that we we did. And and um my late brother and I were effectively the fishermen of the house.
Presenter
Crocodiles on the
Jack Mapanje
Crocodiles, yes, lots of them. Sometimes amongst the reeds you'd see the noses of um crocodiles. And it's very easy to to know them because then they breathe through their noses. You see ripples around. Once you see ripples, you know there is a crocodile s there. So the thing to do is not to run away, but take your paws and splash them on the water and the crocodile run runs away and um and you laugh.
Presenter
But education was the thing. Your mother was very keen that you should have the kind of education she had never been able to have.
Jack Mapanje
Absolutely.
Presenter
And it was available, but how would you do your homework? There was no electricity.
Jack Mapanje
There was no electricity. We used l tin can lamps, like tins of cocoa or tins of coffee. You put a little string on top of it and put paraffin in. And that was your your electricity and that's how we survived.
Presenter
And that's how you did your study.
Jack Mapanje
That's how I started my romantics, that's how I started whatever. I got my LF was this way, my Olive was that way, and and so on. So for that we we s we worked hard to to get it.
Jack Mapanje
Next
Presenter
Yeah.
Jack Mapanje
Yeah.
Presenter
Yeah.
Jack Mapanje
Next record is um a typically Malawian one. And one of the Malawian singers who li now sings in South Africa is called Wambari Mkandawiri, and this is a prayer.
Jack Mapanje
This is a traditional African prayer done in modern guitars and modern instruments.
Speaker 2
We can we can
Speaker 2
Dreamby
Speaker 2
Wow my
Speaker 2
Who we
Speaker 2
We can we can
Speaker 2
Chamber
Speaker 2
Welcome back.
Speaker 2
Oh free.
Presenter
Wambali and Muikitemba, let us pray. Um you were a very bright boy, Jack Mapanji, weren't you? And you passed a kind of eleven plus, you passed a scholarship, went to your secondary school. But you were rocking the boat even then, weren't you? Didn't you get expelled from the secondary school?
Jack Mapanje
I was lucky because I was chosen a prefect, but the head teachers always wanted us to report our students who are making a lot of noise during study, and um I refused to report them.
Jack Mapanje
And on that basis they said we're going to throw you out. You got expelled. So there I got expelled. My late uncle then protested to the Mahayan Congress party to protest to the headmaster. And so I went I went back after three months.
Presenter
He got expelled.
Presenter
But he helped you in other ways too, that uncle, didn't he? He I think he looked after you and your education
Jack Mapanje
If it had not been for my uncle, I would not have been where where I was. My uncle had a herd of cattle and was rich by African standards. So he bought us my brother and I bought us a brand new bicycle.
Presenter
Had not been for my
Jack Mapanje
And we cycled every day, seven miles, for four days in a week to go to the primary school and and so on. On the one bicycle. On the one bicycle. I was sitting on the carrier. He was cycling away and and that's how we did it.
Presenter
Uh
Presenter
How do you matter?
Presenter
But that uncle, as I say, did help you in preference to some of his own children. You're now helping some of his descendants, aren't you? He had that sort of feeling that what what goes around comes around.
Jack Mapanje
Yeah.
Jack Mapanje
I think
Jack Mapanje
Absolutely. What he did was this. He gathered all the children, his children and ourselves, and he told us this. He said,
Jack Mapanje
I don't want anybody to start thinking that I support my sister's children more than my own.
Jack Mapanje
My own children, you've been spending all your time drinking milk, living in luxury, as it were, in a traditional sort of surrounding. I sent you to schools, but you've failed.
Jack Mapanje
What I'm going to do now is I'm going to send these two and my hope is, and I'm telling them here and now, I don't want them to pay back what I'm going to give them. I am hoping that after one of them or both of them, after they've done their school, they can help your children.
Jack Mapanje
Which is exactly what has been happening.
Presenter
XP music.
Jack Mapanje
When I was a student in London, we loved Jerry Raft. There was an album which he published called City to City. And on this album, there's a track, Island, which was critical. It was critical in prison, especially. I loved it. My children loved it. And everybody in the family knew that this. We actually called it Shalala because there is a the thing which says Shalala as part of the part of the record. But what was fascinating about it is this was the link record between me and my family when I was put in prison. On my first birthday, for instance, in prison, the children wrote me a letter which was smuggled in and they said, Dad, we're going to put Shalala for you on your birthday.
Speaker 2
Bye one
Speaker 2
Since we've been on this silent year, it's felt so right. It's getting closer now every day.
Speaker 2
Now that I feel like I know you again
Speaker 2
On stay.
Presenter
Jerry Rafferty and Island or Shalala, members of that bit of communication between you and your children when you're in prison. That's.
Presenter
One of the most terrible things, I suppose, being in prison and fearing for your family who are out there and what's happening to them. That's right. You you wrote one a poem about that, Fears from Mikuyu Sells for Our Loves. I wonder if you could just read us the second half of that, which is about exactly that.
Jack Mapanje
I remember when our neighbor was taken eleven years ago, the secret tears on my wife's cheeks, because visiting his wife and kids, or offering them our sweet potatoes in broad daylight,
Jack Mapanje
Was he crying?
Jack Mapanje
Her husband.
Jack Mapanje
Had just been invented Rebel.
Jack Mapanje
On the third day University Office quickly issued her
Jack Mapanje
Exit visa.
Jack Mapanje
To her husband's village.
Jack Mapanje
The fears of our singular friends.
Jack Mapanje
We also rerun.
Jack Mapanje
His detention was overdue, thus poems
Jack Mapanje
Don't mention that name in my office.
Jack Mapanje
I hear he refused to apologize. How typical
Jack Mapanje
Why is that woman and and her kids still occupying the university house?
Jack Mapanje
Those conferences he loved it's us going now.
Jack Mapanje
Has he reached Mikuyu, then?
Jack Mapanje
We thought it was another temporary joke.
Jack Mapanje
Today
Jack Mapanje
I see your delicate laughter.
Jack Mapanje
and what abuse they will hurl at you.
Jack Mapanje
Dear children
Jack Mapanje
Dear mother, my dear wife
Jack Mapanje
As your rebel dad confronts the wagtail shit of Mikoyo Prison.
Jack Mapanje
Show up their brittle feet, Lord.
Presenter
You mentioned your mother towards the end. Did she ever come and see you in prison? Could she? Was she allowed?
Jack Mapanje
No, I'm afraid to say that my mother actually died um when I was in prison.
Presenter
It must have broken her heart as well.
Jack Mapanje
She was extremely broken hearted. But also my mother and my son he was five and a half years old were the only people who protested about my arrest when I was arrested. And so I remembered that. She shouted her head off and said
Jack Mapanje
You insensitive people, what has my son done? Take me and kill me instead, but leave him alone. Why are you scattering this peaceful house?
Jack Mapanje
And I will never forget those words.
Presenter
There was one man, wasn't there, in prison who seemed to be on your side, one of the guards who helped you?
Jack Mapanje
There were several guards, but there was one we I'm sorry to say, but we nicknamed him Noriega. He because um he was a wild man. He just did things that you never believed a prison guard for the dictatorship would actually do.
Presenter
Blackwater.
Jack Mapanje
Well, we we we wrote notes on toilet paper, we wrote notes on sunlight soap wrappers, life boy soap wrappers, and then passed them on to to take them home. So he would smuggle them out. He will he would smuggle them out for us. And he was super the other thing he did, after I think about two months,
Presenter
So he would smile.
Jack Mapanje
is one day he came to the cells and shouted at me, saying the officer in charge would like to see you and so on, and he took me away, pushed me around, and took to the offices,
Jack Mapanje
And there he says you sit here.
Jack Mapanje
And then he picked up the telephone and said, Here, Professor, talk to your wife.
Jack Mapanje
He was able to give me that telephone and I talked to my wife. I said, It's amazing what humans can actually do to help other humans in situations of this sort.
Jack Mapanje
Yeah.
Presenter
Yeah.
Jack Mapanje
Record number five. This one is um is very special to me because it talks about love and so on and occasionally and on this island I would like to to remember my o memories of um of the lo loved ones. And so three the three degrees, when will I see you again, is a special and has always been special in my heart.
Speaker 2
Well I see you again
Speaker 2
When will we share that precious moment?
Speaker 2
Will I have to wait?
Speaker 2
Forever
Speaker 2
Will I have the summer sunlight and crow?
Presenter
Three degrees and when will I see you again? You've written, Jack, what dictators do is abduct you and wait for the world to shout. If the world doesn't shout, they kill you.
Presenter
The world did shout for you, not that you knew it for months inside Mikuyu Detention Centre.
Presenter
How did the world know to shout for you?
Jack Mapanje
The day I was arrested, as I was being taken away from home to to be interrogated, a priest friend of ours walked in. I showed him my handcuffs.
Jack Mapanje
and um effectively said good afternoon and bye-bye or whatever but this is what he then went on to do he rang up his friend
Jack Mapanje
in Galway, Republic of Ireland, and he spoke in Gaelic so that the special branch in Malawi would not understand what he was talking about.
Presenter
If the line was taped.
Jack Mapanje
If if if the line was tapped
Jack Mapanje
So he says, my friend
Jack Mapanje
Can you rename Aplandic White at the University of York?
Jack Mapanje
Tell him Jack Marpanje has been arrested. I have seen him at the back of the police van, and we do not know where they are going to take him.
Presenter
But all this in Gaelic
Jack Mapanje
All this in Gaelic. And Landy Gwyde immediately tells the BBC, tells Amnesty International, tells the whole world, so that the following day I was arrested on a Friday, on Saturday morning, everybody was talking about a young poet who might have been abducted and people do not know where he is, including radio stations throughout Africa. That, I think, may have saved my life, because what they normally did, they abducted you. They put you away for a bit and w waited for the world to make any noises. If the world made no noises, then they eliminated you.
Presenter
And then you got more and more information out on these soap wrappers, as you say. It's interesting, really. You were sort of saved by Life Boy soap wrappers and a major.
Jack Mapanje
It seems
Jack Mapanje
I'm afraid to say that.
Presenter
And the Gaelic language.
Jack Mapanje
Yeah.
Presenter
Um but more and more information got out and and not that you knew it, but there was a huge campaign and as I said in the introduction people such as Harold Pinter and Tom Stoppard were reading your poetry at all night vigils outside the Malawian embassy and so on in London.
Speaker 1
Yeah.
Presenter
Um but but information was was being fed back, wasn't it? So there was a pressure put on Hastings Bandrum, information as to what conditions were like inside
Jack Mapanje
That's right. We decided that we were going to tell the world about the atrocities in this prison.
Presenter
That's right.
Jack Mapanje
And his authorities just did not understand how these truth stories had gone out into the world of truth.
Presenter
They thought they'd got a very firm lid on it.
Jack Mapanje
Therefore they've got a very firm lid on it, and and this is trouble with dictatorships. It's just a little slip. Sometimes it's just a little door that they forget to close or a window they forget to close. And it's through that window everything will come out. And that's how you can do it.
Presenter
Yeah.
Jack Mapanje
Yeah.
Presenter
It's amazing.
Jack Mapanje
And the software number six.
Jack Mapanje
This one is um a jolly celebratory sort of um record. I love it and um every time I I I take my car and drive to to Newcastle to teach, I put this record on. Brenda Farson.
Speaker 2
Yeah.
Presenter
Brenda Fasse and a celebratory Zulu song, Ponsi Ponsi. So, Jack McPanjay, you and your family came here in nineteen ninety one to York University because the people there had been active in the campaign to free you. Um sadly it wasn't a a good experience at first, was it? There were you suffered a lot of racist abuse.
Jack Mapanje
Well, racist abuses is part of the story of life, I suppose. We found a house on a street where they had never had a black family before.
Jack Mapanje
And so the kids were throwing eggs and
Jack Mapanje
whatever pieces across the road and and and sand even across the kitchen. So we it f it fell in my in Mess's
Jack Mapanje
Pots and saucepans and so on. But in the end, um, we we stuck stuck it out.
Presenter
But you you've written about it, haven't you? Oh yeah, I have
Jack Mapanje
Oh yeah, I have written about you.
Presenter
Sniggering over the hedge, spitting, throwing eggs and monkey faking without ambiguity.
Jack Mapanje
Two.
Jack Mapanje
Yeah, absolutely. I mean it was it was obvious what they were saying. You bloody monkeys, get out of here.
Presenter
But you just took it on the chin as well.
Jack Mapanje
Well we did, and um and we said, um o what what the hell I mean these people do not know where we've come from. We've had a life which is much, much tougher than that. What what is sand? What is and and as I say in the poem, one of my daughters says I wish they gave us the eggs they're throwing on our windows, because we needed the eggs ourselves and so on and so forth.
Speaker 1
Yeah.
Presenter
Yeah.
Jack Mapanje
Well, he stopped here, yeah, it stopped ages ago. But the point is I want to say that um it started badly but ended very well, because in fact the very same kids who were throwing eggs and sand and spitting and so on became friends of the children and the children started sleeping over at each other's houses.
Jack Mapanje
So this is your
Presenter
So this is your home now?
Jack Mapanje
As far as I'm concerned, this is my home. Unless something else happens, drastic, I don't know what.
Presenter
But you've sort of suggested that it still would not be safe to go back to Malawi, although it's now a b multi-party state.
Jack Mapanje
It is now a multi-party state, but I have a feeling that the old hit squads are still hanging around somewhere.
Presenter
Banda's cronies have kinda switched to the side of the net.
Jack Mapanje
Banders Cronies still have some of the old hit squads.
Presenter
Click on our seven.
Jack Mapanje
Okay.
Jack Mapanje
It's a Dido. And and this one is special because um I've been living for the last thirteen years now in the in England. Thirteen years I've been living effectively in a suitcase, traveling from one place to another, from Leiden University to University College, Cork, to um Leeds University to Oxford University, Warwick University, Open University. I haven't had a home at all till last year when Newcastle gave me the permanent job. So I've been a sort of a wanderer, and this one just does it for me.
Speaker 2
I haven't ever really found a place that I call home
Speaker 2
I never stick around quite long enough to make it
Speaker 2
I apologize once again, I'm not in love.
Speaker 2
But I'll just sell nothing more than I can
Speaker 2
There's nothing I have children
Presenter
That's Dido and Life to Rent. Um in the meantime, Jack, you you write poetry about these days taxi drivers in Yorkshire and having picnics on the beach in Bridlington and travelling on the train. Are you gradually leaving the prison experience behind, or does it keep
Presenter
Sort of shafting through again.
Jack Mapanje
It it keeps coming back in, but um one of the biggest problems of anybody who has been a political prisoner like me is how much your your prison experience is going to be left behind and whether um you're going to move on and what you're going to move on to.
Presenter
But are you still a chameleon, as you described yourself in that first published book of poetry? You know, you're sort of
Presenter
One could see now bright and jovial and smiling, and yet
Presenter
You know, that's all just on the outside, changing all of the time. There's something else inside.
Jack Mapanje
I I think that I'm changing all the time. The chameleon then meant both me as well as the politicians, by the way. So I'm still writing and I don't think I can claim that I'm going to to stop writing about Africa. There's no way you can stop writing or about the prison experience.
Presenter
Or about the prison experience.
Presenter
But but what is I suppose what I'm really asking is it is it the case that, you know, once a prisoner, always a prisoner? Is that what we're saying?
Jack Mapanje
There is always something that comes in and it's affects your life and so on and so forth. Perhaps affects your thinking even in certain cases. It depends on the type of prison that you've gone through and the type of life that you lead afterwards. But I think the world is a little prison.
Jack Mapanje
I come to think and uh what we're all trying to do is to try and make the best of of our prison experience and our prisoner situation.
Speaker 1
Cost record.
Jack Mapanje
The last one is very special. I was once upon a time um
Jack Mapanje
An altar boy
Jack Mapanje
So we used to sing some of these Gregorian music and church music, and this is very special. But even more special is the fact that when I came to England,
Jack Mapanje
Gillian Tyndall
Jack Mapanje
Alistair Neven, and all those who had been fighting for me, invited me to celebrate a Thanksgiving service at St. Bride's in Fleet Street.
Jack Mapanje
I was absolutely
Jack Mapanje
Shattered by the experience, because I never thought this could happen, but I was so amazed by the type of generosity that everybody gave one. I read a little passage from the Bible and I was shivering, I didn't know where I was, I had just been released and so on. So that was very special from St. Pride's and effectively thank you to everybody who fought for me and so on, and then who are still fighting.
Speaker 2
Oh he was here.
Presenter
of a Maria sung by Janet Coxwell, with Christopher Enston playing the organ, and that was recorded in Saint Bride's Church, Fleet Street. So three final questions, Jack. If you could only take one of those eight records, which one would you take?
Jack Mapanje
What of the last one?
Presenter
Quite hit the spot, that one, didn't I? Um, what about your book? You get the Bible and you get the complete works of Shakespeare, as you know.
Jack Mapanje
Um will I be allowed to take Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice?
Presenter
Cool.
Jack Mapanje
Yeah, thank you.
Presenter
And a luxury.
Jack Mapanje
One luxury I would like to take is um I don't know whether it is a luxury, I would like somebody to buy me a guitar.
Jack Mapanje
I've always wanted to play the guitar, so can I take a guitar as a luxury on this island?
Presenter
Jack McPanjay, thank you very much indeed for letting us hear your desert island discs.
Jack Mapanje
Yeah.
Presenter
Shut up.
Speaker 1
You've been listening to a podcast from the Desert Islandists archive. For more podcasts, please visit bbc.co.uk slash radio four.
Speaker 2
Uh
Did you take that decision [to take the regime on using your writing]?
Today I can say yes is the answer, but in fact, it was a joint thing. We established what was called a writers' group, who simply said we're going to meet and help each other write and write well.
Presenter asks
Can you describe [your childhood on the shores of Lake Malawi] to me, the scenery, the scents?
Half of the country is the lake and I was born um c very close to it... I was born of a very poor family. My mother was not educated, but she was a very good... short story, Taylor. She used to gather us at night to tell us stories and folk tales... My father left my mother when she was pregnant of me. He went to South Africa... and um never returned.
Presenter asks
How did the world know to shout for you?
The day I was arrested... a priest friend of ours walked in. I showed him my handcuffs... he rang up his friend in Galway, Republic of Ireland, and he spoke in Gaelic so that the special branch in Malawi would not understand... Landy Gwyde immediately tells the BBC, tells Amnesty International, tells the whole world... That, I think, may have saved my life
Presenter asks
Are you gradually leaving the prison experience behind, or does it keep [coming back]?
It it keeps coming back in, but um one of the biggest problems of anybody who has been a political prisoner like me is how much your your prison experience is going to be left behind and whether um you're going to move on and what you're going to move on to.
“Accidentalize was a word that the writers' group in the university invented... It means um to kill somebody and pretend it's an accident, officially kill and tell the world it's an accident.”
“I have already in fact part been on a desert island. It's it's horrific.”
“It's amazing what humans can actually do to help other humans in situations of this sort.”
“I think the world is a little prison... and uh what we're all trying to do is to try and make the best of of our prison experience and our prisoner situation.”