I walk into my mother's welcoming office. It is warmer than the rest of the house, as always, due to her space heater turned on throughout the day. Her large, leather chair is set up facing the couch, with a small table in between, and her reading glasses are already on. She looks up with an anxious look on her face, reaching her hand out to receive my chosen poem. Once it is safely in her hand, along with a pencil for note-taking, Sheri turns into studious mode, and doesn't look up until she has finished Chris Magadza's "Old Tree."
My mother is very determined when she gets a task. She will devote herself entirely to it, a trait I admire very much. As she is reading Magadza's poem, I study her face for any cues that might allow me to enter her thoughts. At one point her nose scrunched and her brow furrowed, probably at the lines of the fourth stanza, which illustrate ominous and dark scenes; another time she grinned in peaceful resolve, undoubtedly caused by the concluding lines of "Old Tree," which offer hope for the future along with some beautiful wordsmithery. She nodded throughout, showing understanding of the insightful words authored. She also, after a first run through, went back to catch missing themes or imagery that she did not pick out the first time. Her pencil was jotting in the margins as she went, making sure she would not forget anything she analyzed, and she sipped her coffee intermittently, feeling the warm mug and allowing the heat to flow into her hands. Once her head rose, primed for discussion, we continued.
Chris Magadza is heavily influenced by his ancestry and the history of his country Zimbabwe. My mom did not know this going into the interview, and it showed to be very helpful indeed. When asked what she thinks of the poem, my mother automatically went to the thought of an enduring life, that can endure terrible things, like "the slaughter of/ father by son, / the rape of sister by brother." But she also said that this was only within Zimbabwe, and although she does not know much about Zimbabwe, assumed there was some conflict between ethnic groups or the like. Once I explained to her the circumstances under which the poet wrote this work, her viewpoint changed. She then revisited the specific verbiage and thought that it was the Africans, or Zimbabweans, that were being abused, as well as the nature of their lands (brought into the poem because of Magadza's ecology degrees) by the British. She went on to explain that the words "father, son, sister, and brother" were pleas to the West, that Africans are the same species, and deserve to be treated as such. This was interesting to see because this is very similar to the thought process I went though myself. Before I knew the background, I didn't think of the British usurping the Africans' power had much of anything to do with it. With this worked out, my mother's face was much brighter all of a sudden, and it seemed as if he learned for more understanding and more analysis. So, we went on.
We were drawn to the first two stanzas because they seem to carry a lot of weight, even though it is in so few words. The stanzas say: "Old tree / Giant towering / above the forest; / You / Who saw the rise / Of ancient suns, / The fall of principalities, / The ageing of creation." While my mom thought about the majesty of nature, I thought about a deity being exemplified through the tree. This contrast in idea was very interesting to me, as it showed me there are many different perspectives one could take when reading this poem. We both liked the ending, and thought it provided hope for the future of Africa, and Zimbabwe. Nature always cycles through again, bringing new blossoms, replacing the ones that perished in previous times. It is also endless, watching over everything with "Timeless majesty."
I enjoyed this interview with my mom. It allowed us to discuss on an intellectual level a piece of literature. We would never normally do this, and so it was really fun to see my mom's thought process and point of view on certain things, that can be the same or different than mine.
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