The personal–local as national history

Abstract

In Violence and Solace, Mxolisi Mchunu presents a highly moving, convincing account of violence and solace in South Africa’s KwaZulu-Natal province. Many readers will probably find the fact that the author was also affected personally during the pre-1994 violence in this south-eastern province of South Africa as the book’s biggest draw. The book presents a consistent historical account and identifies the landmarks of one of the most violent predemocracy episodes in KwaShange, an area that local media once dubbed ‘the killing fields’ of South Africa, one of the many rural villages that were adversely affected by the violence. Its storyline is a fascinating yet chilling account of South Africa’s pre-1994 civil war, which engulfed the country on the eve of its transition to democracy. The book’s method and approach consist of a rich array of case studies and interviewees’ narratives in 10 chapters. It presents the Natal’s civil war in late-apartheid South Africa, explaining the macro-politics of that time from a micro-political perspective. A comprehensive analysis of the causes, manifestations and devastating consequences of that civil war, it relies on extensive primary and secondary sources and a diverse literature review, including the publications of prominent African scholars and historians. This is one of the few doctoral studies in South Africa that has resulted successfully in a book. That it is written by an African student who witnessed first-hand much of what the book covers should appeal to readers. The author’s meticulous accounts of the origins, causes and nature of the political violence in KwaZulu-Natal also enhance the book. The book has an inviting cover (colour photograph) and includes a map and topographical sketch of the ‘Seven Days War’, outlined in the introductory chapter of the book (p. 71) and in Chapter 5, which present invaluable data of the carnage and deaths of that violent era. A further strength is the unique and passionate way in which the author narrates the story of his native KwaShange, which forms a case study for the book. There are, however, some limitations: those with a nervous disposition (or who are likely to find the photographs referred to above distasteful or disturbing) might find the book offensive or upsetting. This is not to criticise the author’s decision to present such photographs, as they strengthen the central argument of the book, which might not have been the case were these photographs omitted from its compelling account. These photographs serve as evidence of the carnage that the KwaShange villagers and other victims of the violence experienced. Yet the book might also be misconstrued to endorse the stereotype that South Africans, or the Zulu people, are violent, given that such violence remains a haunting spectre in the province and elsewhere in the country even today. The book’s autobiographical format in the tradition of historical scholarship outlines a consistent argument that will be welcomed by many readers of African history, politics and several other fields. It contributes to the burgeoning literature on nationalism in South Africa, whether Zulu, Afrikaner or British, which were at loggerheads at times during that period in South Africa.