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Arts Breaking
away from the orthodox The entry "Out
of the Darkness", a translation of Gunadasa Amarasekera's two-part
novel Asathya Kathawak and Premayé Sathya Kathawak seemed
to possess all that the judges were looking for, thus, Sri Lanka's
most prestigious award for 'creative writing in English', which
has been marked in more recent times for its constant stream of
joint winners, was awarded for the year 2002 to a single winner
- Vijita Fernando. With several
intricate strands of love, betrayal, violence, corruption within
the establishment and political conspiracy woven into the single
thread of the lives and fate of two brothers, Out of the Darkness
is set in the post-insurgency period of 1971, with a storyline revolving
around rebellion in universities and the issues that surround such
a situation. As Vijita explains,
the first element of the story is that of two brothers; one works
as a constable to educate the other who is a third-year student
studying engineering at the University of Peradeniya. Although thought
to be the model student, the boy is really embroiled in university
politics, until he dies tragically in a clash between the students
and the police. His fellow
students claim he is killed, the police maintain it was an accident
and politicians, also involved in this mess make out that the boy
committed suicide as a result of a failed love affair. The second
element of the story is that of the love affair. Told in a series
of journal entries, it traces the ups and downs of university love
affairs. In the end, the story is one that gives no answers; rather
it gives the reader different dimensions from which to explore one
situation. Possibly, the
most discussed topic at the Barefoot Gallery that evening was the
issue of translations. With the Gratiaen for her translation and
with 25 years experience as a journalist at the Daily News, which
has seen her, in addition to writing feature stories, editorials
and the like, translate many a short story for a weekly short story
supplement that ran in the papers, Vijita seemed the best person
to talk to on the issues of translation. Stressing that
her ideas were personal observations rather than generalisations,
she stated that as a translator she does take the original writer's
intentions into consideration, but the creative effort is her own. A non-believer
in word-to-word translations, Vijita says translating is not a matter
of words or phrases, it's the original thinking that defines the
work. "Naturally, I believe in the need to stay loyal to the
original writer, but I do that by carefully reading through the
work I translate and ensuring that I have grasped the author's intentions." If there is
a challenge she faces, it is that translating certain nuances of
the Sinhala language into English doesn't always come easy. "In
Sinhala there are certain phrases, certain expressions, certain
ways of saying things that make the language beautiful, that can't
quite be captured when translated." However, it's obvious that
Vijita does enjoy translating and she admits that she has come to
a point where she finds herself subconsciously developing ideas
for translations when she reads anything in Sinhala. "I really
enjoy translating from Sinhala to English; this probably comes with
my familiarity with Sinhala and fluency in English." Shortlisted
in 1995 for the Gratiaen, Vijita counts the award important for
two reasons. One, that it encourages and recognizes local writers.
Furthermore, she says, by opening the award even for translations,
it shows that there is some feeling for Sinhala and Tamil writers.
Translations become significant because they introduce good writing
in Sinhala and Tamil to a world that would not have otherwise known
them. "The other
important factor of the Gratiaen is that it works as a goal for
writers to work toward. Writers sometimes need deadlines and the
closing date for entries sparks off an urge in writers to finish
a work - even if they don't always send it in." Having expanded
her field from journalism and creative writing, Vijita, whose specific
field of interest is women's issues, now works as a consultant writer
attached to various organizations and agencies like UN organizations,
the Centre for Women's Research and the Women's Feature Service.
Her view on
journalistic and creative writing is that there shouldn't be a difference
between the two. "For me, any writing is creative. If you write
about something you feel strongly about and you take time over it
to make it appeal to a reader, you are being creative." Talking about
her husband, three daughters and sons-in-law, all who support her
and are proud of her achievements, she drifts off to the topic of
contentment. Where her writing career is concerned she says she has had no landmarks, but each time she puts her pen down, satisfied with something she has written, she has experienced contentment. What’s
good SLE and bad SLE? The Gratiaen
prize, as we know, is awarded every year for the best piece of 'creative
writing in English', by a Sri Lankan resident in the country. The
Gratiaen Trust, benevolently established by the more than distinguished
Michael Ondaatje, administers the fund and awards a handsome cash
prize to the winners annually. Past winners
have included established Sri Lankan writers in the form of Carl
Muller, Punyakante Wijenaike and Rajiva Wijesinha, to name but a
few. This year's
award went to Mrs. Vijita Fernando for "Out of the Darkness",
her translation of Gunadasa Amarasekera's novel in two parts. It
was not the first time that the prize had gone to a translation
and if the comments of the judges were anything to go by, it certainly
won't be the last. Guest Speaker
for the evening was Professor Senake Bandaranayake, who professed
at the start that he would not delve into the field of literature
but would confine his thoughts to the place of English in this country.
Professor Bandaranayake drew on examples from other parts of South
Asia, using them as models for the teaching of English in this country.
He outlined the dire need for expanding the horizons of English
speakers, as well as English readers in Sri Lanka - what's 5% of
1.5 million? Influenced,
no doubt, by his archaeological roots, he went on to trace the evolution
of the Sri Lankan English intelligentsia. Extensive research yielded
writers in English in various spheres of this country's academic
and artistic growth. From physics, to mathematics, to architecture
and drama, Professor Bandarananayake outlined the development of
English writers in Sri Lanka. However, while being an admirable
chronological commentary on the development and expansion of English
writing, the speech did not address the more pertinent issues regarding
the acceptance of Sri Lankan English in the larger context of more
established ‘English’, and also provided no solution to
the urgent need to spread the use of the language to the less urban
parts of the country. Professor Bandaranayake
also very appropriately pointed out that unlike in the past, universities
are not the epicentres of intellectual thought in the present generation.
English graduates in particular are a dwindling breed and although
the issue was raised it was not addressed in a practical fashion.
He did however, leave plenty for those involved in the teaching
of English, at whichever level, to think about. Tissa Abeysekera
chaired the panel of judges which also comprised Kamal de Abrew
and Ruvani Ranasinha. During his evaluation he kept referring to
the panel as the 'jury' - an interesting reference. Abeysekera laid
out the criteria, which they had been looking out for as a panel
and stressed the need for grammatical excellence. In the same
breath he also went onto say that emphasis on syntax should not
obliterate the creativity of writing so much as to make it mere
'journalistic reportage'. Fair enough. How then, does
one standardise the 'good' writing from the 'bad' writing. Since
we assume that all entries are written in purely Sri Lankan English,
how do we say this is good SLE and this is bad SLE? It is easy
to differentiate between the standard and the non-standard, but
how does one differentiate the extremes of the non-standard form,
for it would be futile to argue that SLE is a standard form of English.
In the absence therefore of a standard, and at the same time while
making allowances for stylistic deviations, how can conformity to
syntax et al, be considerations for excellence? Abeysekera
also went on to underscore the importance of narrative, and the
power of the writer to engage the reader. He then went onto award
the prize to a translation. This begs a few questions. Can a translation,
by definition, be categorised as a piece of 'creative writing’?
And is it not much easier to lend yourself to grammatical excellence
when the engaging narrative, and stylistic spark is already staring
you in the face? While not for a moment begrudging translations
and translators their dues, we need to question their propriety
in a forum brought together purely to honour 'creative' writing. One academic
remarked, in the course of conversation, that maybe this meant that
the quality of the creative writing on offer in this country, despite
the accompanying allowances, is collectively surpassed by the quality
of the translations on offer. An appalling thought for future writers
in English, and a sure sign that their socks need to be pulled up.
Fast. It also perhaps raises the need for the Gratiaen prize to
be segregated into a separate award for translations? With all these
incoherent thoughts jammed into my academically challenged mind,
and with my salutary condolences to the people of Baghdad, I trekked
home. How is style judged? Is non-conformity a vice, or a virtue?
Is originality only tolerated within the accepted parameters? O
tempora.... Churning
out products from a never-ending rat race The factory
itself, MMF, dominated the stage in vibrant colours. The play showed
modern, urban society's driving impulse to fit into the system of
life dominated by globalization and commercial. The pressure,
hypocrisy and issues that compel us to conform to social standards
regarded as 'normal' or be discarded as 'misfits' or 'drop-outs'
become the question here. The MMF, therefore,
churns us, one by one, into a mirror image of each other. We end up with
no personality, no different values nor outlook on life. With the
need to conform to the rat race we give up 'ourselves' and become
a mirror image of everybody else. Quoting extracts from the play
itself will drive home the message. One citizen
becomes suspicious of another in the process of advancing up the
social or political ladder, without reason. He complains to the
police that this other individual is collecting weapons to destroy
him. Police, on investigation, find nothing of the sort. First citizen,
convinced, despite police report, attacks his 'enemy' for no apparent
reason. Is this behaviour normal? - No Abnormal!
It is a mental illness called Paranoid Schizophrenia. * * * Many of the
cast commented on the hard work involved; but nevertheless had enjoyed
participating. To quote a few: * * * A couple of
more extractions from the play itself: * * * My heartfelt
congratulations go out to Director Ruwanthi Chickera and her stage
group for having the courage and understanding to handle a difficult
and untrained cast, for having given them the opportunity to perform
before a vast audience who were clapping and laughing all the way. I hope you
will, in the near future, find the energy to give us a repeat performance. Like the last character, the man with a mind of his own said in the last scene: "Come on, you robots, dance. No, no, not like me but the way YOU want to dance! Don't be mere reflections of the norm. Be Yourself!' |
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Copyright © 2001 Wijeya Newspapers
Ltd. All rights reserved. |
