The Two Hearts of Kwasi Boachi – Arthur Japin
Translated from the Dutch De zwarte met het witte hart by Ina Rilke
Vintage, 2001
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The Two Hearts of Kwasi Boachi tells the story of two Ashanti princes who were brought to the Netherlands as a guarantee on a trade contract involving African men working as soldiers in the Dutch East Indies after slave trade was officially abolished. Kwasi Boachi, son of the king of the Ashanti, and his cousin and heir to the throne due to matrilineal succession, Kwame, are forced to leave their homeland and promised to be raised and educated in the Netherlands, in order to return home at a later date so the Ashanti might benefit from their knowledge. Once in the Netherlands, Kwasi and Kwame fall in with royal circles, as they are of royal decent themselves, but are also confronted with fears and stereotypes concerning their black skincolour.
Kwasi and Kwame both follow a different path in response to their circumstances. Kwame is more upset by the prejudices he encounters, less willing to give up his own heritage and longs to return home. Kwasi experiences the same hurt, but decides that the best way to cope is to try to fit in as best as possible. He busily tries to adept to Dutch life, even if that means abandoning his own cultural knowledge and adopting Dutch views on his people.
When we meet up with Kwasi decades later, now living as a plantation owner in the Dutch East Indies and working on his memoirs, he discovers something which confirms what he has grown to acknowledge over the years: that he has been, and always will be, out of place.
Talk about fiction about colonialism. Even though this is arguably a critically acclaimed Dutch bestseller from the last two decades,The Two Hearts of Kwasi Boachi was not on my radar until a German colleague mentioned it. We were discussing the lack of engagement with the colonial past by the Dutch and she asked whether I had read Japin’s book, given that it was recommended to her when she brought up the same frustrations I had in an earlier get-together.
Her summary of a book about two princes from present-day Ghana, who were gifted to the Dutch King in exchange for a trade contract, educated to be Dutch citizens, visiting royal circles, experiencing racism, with one of them ending up as a plantation owner in the Dutch East Indies and thus in a position of power over Indonesians – honestly, I was both excited and weary. “This book might be perfect!”, I thought. It seems an opportunity to discuss something Homi Bhabha called hybridity, and moreover raises interesting questions about the intersection of race and class in organising societal status. Why did I also feel weary, you may ask? Because what if it failed to do justice to the complexity of the colonial world it describes? And, of course, as my colleague said, it raises the question why this book had to be written by a Dutch man, whether that matters, whether that made it more likely to be picked up by a publisher, and how that influenced the manner in which this story was portrayed?
The reason why this post is published a day later than promised (per the read along schedule) is because I do not have answers to these questions that I had months ago, when I first decided that I wanted to include this book the next time I featured Dutch lit on my blog.
Part of me feels very undecided about this book, while I did really enjoy it and know that I want to rate it highly on the enjoyment factor alone. I feel unable to write a proper post about this book. I wonder if I should not first reread it, or read up on the history of these two men. I do want to make a few brief remarks though:
First, I very much appreciate Japin’s story as told by him. The book is divided into five parts, and while reading part 1 I thought, at one point, “perhaps I should only read books about colonialism from now on – this subject deserves more of my leisurely reading time”. Most of the sections were very well done, and very engaging I thought, although I should say that I experienced some lack of urgency towards the middle of the book.
Second, I appreciate what Japin did to bring this story into mainstream consciousness. As he describes in the afterword to the Dutch Arbeiderspers 2009 edition, Kwame and Kwasi have become real persons to people in the Netherlands, their lives have become part of at least a segment of public consciousness, and whereas they used to be forgotten, Kwasi’s archive is now visited regularly by people. Of course, one can wonder how “forgotten” and “remembered” are measured by Japin, but I do believe him that his book has helped raise the profile of this historical story. On the one hand, I’m so glad. On the other, it makes me said that it was necessary at all, and again, it raises the question of the influence of Dutch authorship.
Third, without making any of my first ideas on how this story might discuss a concept like “hybridity” (whether you agree with that concept or not), or the intersection of race and class, explicit, in The Two Hearts of Kwasi Boachi Japin does manage to complicate manners, particularly by showing us the various ways in which Kwasi and Kwame are displaced, never fully included, in any of the social circles they visit – yes, always due to racism and yet, I did not think the story becomes solely about a dichotomy, without also portraying the ways in which the cousins negotiated lines of social distinction, and the ways in which the supporting characters did.
Fourth, I have seen a number of reviews remark on the way in which this story portrays the shocking facts of colonialism and a colonial worldview, how there are shocking reveals and passages in the story. I would agree that the story is revealing, and yet, for me, the ultimate reveals were not surprising per se - they fitted perfectly in that colonial worldview and the social practice that came with it such a phrenology. I am not saying that I did not think that the occurences were not outrageous, that it makes you wonder how or why, and that it is shocking and painful and emotional in this manner.. It is just that I think that these responses ultimately show how easy it is to be comfortably ignorant when it comes to the colonial past and that a story about individuals can break through that numbness, that forgetting, even if only for the few days while reading. It is interesting how often fiction can accomplish what no history book can. Conclusion: we need more, and multiple stories, about these histories (and obviously about the contemporary world).
Fifth, I was quite surprised to read some of the cited praise in the national and international press that was included in the Dutch version I read. One included line praised that Japin was not blind to the injustice of the slave trade as a ‘domestic African’ matter and not just something the Europeans initiated. Another remarked on the contemporary relevance of the story as it showed that multiculturalism, or the peaceful coexistence of people from different continents in one country, is a dream we need to abandon. Um.. Have we read the same book? Do I need to explode into RAGE CAPITALS here? Or should I just say how utterly and completely I disagree with that reading?
Even if Japin in this story rejects the idea that there can be a complete understanding between people from different cultural backgrounds without power coming into play - this does not necessarily lead to conclusions along the lines of “clash of cultures”, “ultimate rejection of multicultural societies”. As for the first cited praise: Why is it that so often when colonialism or the slave trade is brought up, we feel the need to emphasise, first and foremost, the fact that slave trade or inequalities already existed in the areas ‘the West’ later interfered in, as if that is the only thing that needs mention or remembrance, as if that absolved our own national histories from all blame? Gah.. So yeah, that soured my reading of the book a bit. But it did lead me to wonder: did you read the book along the lines of cultural difference as impossible to overcome? In a way, I would say that yes, this is part of the story. On the other hand, I did not feel it was essentialised, more contextualised in the power relations at play. But I might have been too eager to read it that way?
There are more questions I am left with:
- Would the story have been the same if Kwame had been the main character? Should we read into the choice?
- What to think of the portrayal of women? Were they marginalised or as central as they could be in a male/colonial world? The royal women were not without agency, but what about the other women, to the extent that we see them at all?
- …………..
Basically, this book led me into a labyrinth of questions. There is a reason why I said that I was undecided about the book. This does not mean that I thought it a waste of time to read. Actually, it might the book I found most interesting out of all the ones I have read for Dutch Lit Fortnight (and I was very happy with my selection this year) and I am definitely glad I took the time to read it.
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