Translating Matigari: An Interview with Spanish Translator Rafael Segovia

After many e-mails and international phone calls to El Colegio de México (Colmex), I managed to locate Spanish translator Rafael Segovia. Once contact was made with Segovia, a meeting for an interview at his home in Tepotzlán, Morelos, Mexico, was planned. On Monday, 24 March 2008, we sat in his garden to talk about his Spanish translation of Ngũgĩ wa Thiong'o's Matigari, published by El Centro de Estudios de Asia y África (CEAA) at Colmex in 2005. Segovia graciously shared his knowledge as translator, but also as intellectual, writer, theater director, and cultural producer. A strong supporter of the Kenyan author's language project, Segovia explains the ways in which Ngũgĩ's focus on marginalized languages resonates in Mexico, but also acknowledges the sometimes seemingly insurmountable obstacles facing indigenous languages. After all, Segovia himself was given three months to produce a translation of Wangũĩ wa Goro's English translation,² hardly enough time to collaborate with Gĩkũyũ-language speakers or readers. Segovia is forthcoming when discussing the limitations and challenges that translators face, but looks forward to the possibility of multilingual collaborations. We also discussed how Africa is translated, literally and figuratively, into Spanish, and how he thinks his Mexican readers relate to Matigari.

NH:

Are you familiar with modern African literature? If so, with which novels or writers are you familiar?

RS:

I'm more familiar with African poetry, in a way, because the first African poet whose work I was introduced to was Senghor from Senegal, whom I loved when I was a student in France. Then I read Aimé Césaire, who is not African, but he's very close to Senghor. Many years after that, I was introduced to Coetzee, and I loved his—a couple of novels I read. I also have read a few stories by Gordimer. I've read some literature that is not really literature, which is more political—polemics and so on. Actually, Ngũgĩ was a discovery for me, because, well, I had heard of him. I think I have a wide literary culture, but I had never read him, especially I think because there were no books available in Mexico.

NH:

So you were familiar with several African authors before translating Matigari?

RS:

Not several, but a few. But maybe this brings about something, you know, a reflection on the fact that there is very little cultural communication between what we call the "Third World" countries. Everything goes through the North, right? We have very little access to African literature in Mexico, even in translation.

NH:

You were familiar with a few African authors and their works, and you were familiar with Ngũgĩ, but not necessarily his work? What did you know about him?

RS:

I knew about him. I knew about his exile, the role he had played in Kenya, and I knew this particular anecdote that the police and the army were looking for a certain "Matigari" who was considered an enemy of the government. That's what I knew about him before translating Matigari.

NH:

There are two rather large debates in what has come to be known as modern African literature. One has to do with the role of the African writer, and the other has to do with language, specifically choice of language. Before translating, were you aware of the language debate?

RS:

I was familiar with the language debate in itself, in a way, because I am myself an advocate for cultural diversity, as you know, and this quickly brought me into the problem of linguistic diversity and everything that's happening with the loss of languages—languages as endangered species. I had been familiar with that problem for many years in Mexico because it's a very acute problem here. At the same time, I think I have been, for a few years now, convinced of the idea that local languages have to be spoken, have to be published, have to be in the media, have to be, you know, on TV, in cinemas, etc.

NH:

Do you...