Jacques Fame Ndongo: An Interview with Cécile Dolisane-Ebossè

Jacques Fame Ndongo, a new Cameroonian novelist, considers the difficulties threatening the African continent. In a subtle, scholarly blend of the spoken word and the magic of writing, the word sculptor scrutinizes that bewildering Africa through an allegory drawn through light and shadows, a glorious past and an uncertain future. Both an optimist and a realist, Ndongo believes that the Pan-African renaissance must be achieved first through the unity of black peoples and the re-evaluation of their art. He therefore introduces new conceptual paradigms, new frameworks of reading that take into account the totalizing dimension of black African philosophy. His new theory-cosmocriticism-complements sociocriticism and ecocriticism. In a word, L'a-fric symbolizes epistemic renewal as well as that web of contradictions that is Africa: simultaneously rich and poor.

CDE: After having written a poem in Espaces de lumière, devoted to the "cash woman" (femme à fric; also a play on words of femme Afrique, Africa woman-trans.), you have undertaken a new novel entitled L'a-fric. What does this ambiguous-or at the very least confusing-title hide?

JFN: It's a simple play on words. Africa "has a lot of cash," that is, she has much wealth in terms of the physical, economic, human, spiritual, etc., but she is also "a-fric," "cashless," because she hasn't been able to valorize, develop, her economic and material riches. It is true that spiritual riches are not quantifiable, they're not visible. In reality, even those riches haven't been used to advantage. Africa abounds in spiritual potential that she has turned away from. She has adopted other mental schemes, other visions that are essentially materialistic and technical. She has gone from a civilization of being to a civilization of having. In terms of a civilization of having, we will always be the dupes; and if we return to the civilization of being, we will be the foremost, and we must be the foremost. That is the message of Armstrong, whom I called upon through the technique of prosopopeia. Louis Armstrong recalls Senghor by affirming that we are the ones who must carry the rhythm of the world.

CDE: But why a ghost? Does a black have to be dead to bring us light?

JFN: Louis Armstrong is a black who was able to be first through art, a virtuoso. Humans negate death through art. Art is an anti-destiny, according to André Malraux. Through Art, Louis Armstrong conquers the world in his field of expertise. In my opinion, I don't think, even today, that he has ever been equaled in the realm of the saxophone. We know that some said it was a Western trumpet. But he was not a métis. He was 100% black, with a flat nose. He succeeded in being the best.

CDE: Why an African American? Just because?

JFN: In this precise case, this black American is a model for blacks to imitate. Among those blacks who are touted as immortal and universal models, he proved that we can be first and foremost. My whole life, I have held a grand idea of blacks in order to copy Charles de Gaulle. I would love to see a black at the forefront-therefore the symbolism of Louis Armstrong. All blacks should be a Louis Armstrong in their own fields.

CDE: Let's come back to the architecture of the novel. On the formal level, you insert something new-stopping places-and you repeat the idea of clearings that you initiated in Espaces de lumière, as substitutes for "parts" or "chapters." With these insertions, are you emphasizing the sociocultural referent linked to "Pahouinitude" [or "Fang-itude"]? Or are you distancing yourself from the classical canons of writing?

JFN: I am trying to establish new correspondences. I tell myself that the notion of parts or chapters is abstract. On the other hand, the notions of "clearing" and "resting place" speak to the concrete, to the African reality. You start from the concrete to arrive at the abstract and to...