In 1989 “Jobman” was made into a film directed by Darrell Roodt and released in 1989.

In 1986 Achmat was invited by Dr Beyers Naudé to set up join Kagiso Trust. He left Revlon and became the first Executive Director of Kagiso Trust, a position he held for about seven years. It was a challenging and, because of increased state surveillance and repression, in many ways a risky job. Challenging the apartheid state through writing, also came with real risks. In an interview conducted around 2018 Achmat was asked to reflect on his experiences of censorship and life under apartheid. He replied:

“I was politically active inside the country. I was what we called an ‘internal exile,’ leading many lives: family man, writer, overt activist and in many ways, a ‘covert’ operative. Heaven knows how many times – and why – I risked my tenuous freedom to find devious ways of bringing money to activists, political prisoners and their families. Believe me, there is nothing noble about being scared each time I saw a policeman outside my home or office.”

Waiting for Leila, was published in 1981 and was “singled out” for an honourable mention in the Noma Award for Publishing in Africa the next year. In 1982 a collection of South African poems Voices from Within, compiled and edited by Achmat and Michael Chapman appeared, followed by Achmat’s first collection of poetry, Bulldozer in 1983. Majiet: A Play and a second anthology of poems titled, Exiles Within were both published in 1986. Achmat’s writing was also published in journals, such as Staffrider and Wietie. He was working on drafts of what would become The Z-Town Trilogy. Although he wrote short stories, longer prose pieces and plays, Achmat believed that poetry offered the best medium for conveying “things as (he) saw them”.

Achmat told writer, scholar and then editor of Staffrider, Andries Oliphant about how he used different genres for different purposes and that his choices also depended on particular life circumstances:

“I started writing after the character Newclare was “colouredised” to conform to the ethnic and race policies of the state…I began by writing plays, taking my models from American playwrights such as Tennessee Williams. I, however, found that writing in a vacuum where there were no theatre facilities led to a situation where nothing significant materialised from my early playwriting. I eventually moved on to poetry. This compact form suited the terse and pointed style through which I wanted to convey the realities I observed around me. I was able to use the immediacy of the form to write about things as I saw them. I progressed to prose at a later stage when I found myself facing a five-year banning period in which I had lots of time and nothing urgent to attend to. I had time to read and write, as well as to develop a more contemplative attitude to writing. I started with short stories and attempted the longer form of the novella until I arrived at the novel. Today [1990] I mostly write prose, although I continue to write plays and poetry. Poetry enables me to write about current issues and politics and other immediate matters while prose is a mode through which I explore these issues contemplatively.

Some of Achmat’s poems, and his short story “Jobman”, were published in Staffrider magazine, named after township slang for daring youngsters who rode illegally on the outside of commuter trains. By 1980, Staffrider’s print run was 7 000. Mike Kirkwood of Ravan Press appointed Chris Van Wyk to take it over. Staffrider’s approach attracted some criticism. Achmat’s friend, photographer Paul Weinberg whose photographs were regularly published in the magazine said that, “people who were into high art thought of it as a magazine of advocacy, that lacked subtlety … They believed it was below the gold standard of where literature should be in the academic sense, because it was partisan and clearly political.”

Ravan Press published a collection of volumes called “Staffrider Series”, one of which included five short stories of Achmat’s published in 1981 under the title Waiting for Leila. Sojourns in Cape Town (“Waiting for Leila”), Port Elizabeth (“In the Shadow of Paradise”) and other parts of the Cape (“Jobman”) are reflected in Waiting for Leila, which Achmat dedicated to his friend Don Mattera. In an interview with Oliphant, Achmat explained why he cut the original “odyssey” running to hundreds of pages, inspired by Homer and Camus in what became Waiting for Leila to make it less foreign and more South African:

“Waiting for Leila was a very important experience for me. The original manuscript is a four-hundred-page novel which I wrote over a five-year period. I started writing it when I was living in District Six. The story grew as I developed. I was reading widely and was especially impressed by the way in which Homer’s Odyssey utilises narrative poetry and mythology. The various levels of the narrative, focusing on the travels of the hero in relation to his wife, Penelope, who waits for him, and his son, Telemachus, who also hopes for the return of his father, introduced me to an important aspect of writing. In conjunction with this I was also struck by the outsider figure in Western literature. Here Albert Camus’ The Outsider comes to mind. I, of course, had to find a social and communal basis for some of these aspects in my own writing. In Waiting for Leila the main character is introduced to different situations in which he is an outsider and therefore must try to find a place. The main character is alienated from his own culture but wants to be part of it. This coincided with my own transition from a disillusionment with a pure Black Consciousness position into an uncertain terrain where there was nothing to replace it as yet. In this sense it reflects my personal as well as a general South African odyssey. I realised that South African history itself is one of a people in odyssey. By the time I had finished Waiting for Leila I realised that I had included many foreign elements which clashed with my conception of what I thought I should be writing as a South African. I cut the story down to its existing dimensions, retaining the rebellious outsider and his revolt against his society.”

In 1982, Achmat co-edited an anthology of poems with Michael Chapman. It was published by Ad. Donker under the title Voices from Within: Black Poetry from Southern Africa.

A year later, Ravan Press published Bulldozer, Achmat’s own collection of poetry which Achmat dedicated to “B and J” presumably his wife and daughter. It drew on his experiences of forced removals and witnessing their implementation, including in District Six. By this stage Achmat wrote predominantly in English, though Bulldozer contains a number of poems in Afrikaans.

Three of Achmat’s poems appeared in Stephen Gray’s edited anthology, Modern South African Poetry published by ‎Ad. Donker in 1984.

Achmat’s work as a cultural activist was more visible in this period and he became involved with other writers in establishing writer’s organisations, such as the Writer’s Forum in 1982. Discussions in the Writer’s Forum produced the idea of “cultural workers” and their responsibilities to the democratic movement. Achmat recalled: “A number of writers came to see that the romanticised and privileged role of artists and writers in the political struggle was in complete contradiction to our belief that we are organically linked to the struggle, are integral to it and should not distance ourselves from it in ‘an intellectual way’.

The Writer’s Forum had strong ties with the Open School of which Colin “Jiggs” Smuts founder member of the Writer’s Forum was the Executive Director (from 1974-1998). Smuts promoted and secured funding for cultural and community development projects. In 1986, the Open School published Achmat’s Majiet: A Play. Shortly thereafter the Writer’s Forum published the poetry anthology Exiles Within: 7 South African Poets in 1986, featuring poetry by Farouk Asvat, Achmat Dangor, Mafika Gwala, Essop Patel, Don Mattera, James Matthews and Gladys Thomas. After the Congress of South African Writers (COSAW) was launched in 1987, the Writer’s Forum became its publishing arm.

In September 1986 Achmat was invited to attend Duke University’s conference “The Challenge of Third World Culture” where one of the topics was the role of the writer. It was at this conference that Achmat first met Ariel Dorfman who would become a close friend. Achmat gifted Ariel a copy of his book Waiting for Leila and “Majiet: A Play”.

Achmat was reported saying at the conference how difficult he found it to distinguish between the writing ‘side’ and the political ‘side’ of his work:

“It is impossible to divorce the political from the social. If you consider that we grow up into a society where politics is fed to us very brutally, from a very early age. The politicisation begins with children’s songs [that are marked by] an inability to distinguish between their private lives and what they see outside. In a nutshell I find myself unable to distinguish between the personal and the political sides of my work.”

Pamphlet from the 1986 conference “The Challenge of Third World Culture” signed by the seventeen key speakers, among them writers, poets, editors, critics and film makers including Achmat, Eqbal Ahmed, Tomás Gutiérrez Alea, Dennis Brutus, Ariel Dorfman, Jean Franco, Frederic Jameson, Ellias Khoury, George Lamming, Masao Miyoshi, Ngugi wa Thiong’o, Kenzaburo Oe, Nélida Piñon, Elena Poniatowska, Edward Said, Ousmane Sembene and Kidlat Tahimik. Achmat Dangor Papers, Historical Papers Research Archive, University of the Witwatersrand. Academics and students from more than 100 U.S. colleges and universities gathered to listen to public presentations.

In 1987 Achmat was appointed as a member of the United Democratic Front’s (UDF) Cultural desk. In the same year the Congress of South African Writers (COSAW) emerged in response to the growing mass-based democratic movement. It was becoming clear to many writers that it was essential for them to respond to the circumstances created by apartheid and to support the political struggle in their creative work. Achmat recalled:

“The recognition by the writer, of him or herself as a political activist, as well as a writer, as well as the writing that is being produced in the country, has led to a situation of direct confrontation with the state. And we are indeed now writing in a state of siege. The physical manifestations of this state of siege are, as an example, the detention of writers such as Mzwakhe. Other writers have been detained, some of them charged, such as Jackie Seroke. And then there’s the fact that many others have had to flee into exile, such as Jeremy Cronin. There is also the banning of books, the seizure of manuscripts and the raiding of homes. Those in effect are the physical manifestations of the state of siege for writers. I think far more insidious and with far more long-lasting effects is the siege mentality that is developing. We feel so often that we have to be ‘strategic’ in what we write, and so we begin to cull things from our writing, unconsciously perhaps to ensure that it is not banned or repressed or at least that we can disseminate it in order to get our message across. It is an unconscious process and one that we have to guard against … We shrink away from exploring things like racism, sexism, class differences. We sometimes feel that we should merely gloss over the political differences in our country, that we should not explore the undoubted debate that takes place in liberation movements about what direction and what future that liberation has, what shape it is going to take.”

Staffrider, Vol 7, No 2, 1988 published Achmat’s “Report on a Workshop on the ‘Cultural Boycott’ as an Act of Censorship or a Tool of Liberation” hosted by the Congress of South African Writers on 14 May 1988, see pages 90-91 to read. The same issue published Barbara Schreiner’s report on the Progressive Arts Project which Achmat supported. Digital Innovation South Africa, University of KwaZulu-Nataled to listen to public presentations.

COSAW played a key role in the organisation of cultural events and campaigns. In October/November 1988, COSAW found itself in a difficult situation. It had joined up with various publishers and the anti-apartheid newspaper the Weekly Mail, then under threat of closure by the government to organise what had become an annual book festival in Cape Town and Johannesburg. Salman Rushdie had been invited as the keynote speaker. The theme of the festival was: “Censorship under the State of Emergency” and the programme headlined Heinrich Heine’s famous observation, “Wherever they burn books, they will also in the end burn people.”

According to Jane Duncan, COSAW was delegated the task of facilitating Rushdie’s visit to the country and approached the UDF’s Cultural Desk, the African National Congress’s Cultural Desk in London and the Anti-Apartheid Movement to obtain permission for him to visit the country, which was granted and the Weekly Mail announced Rushdie’s invitation. Anton Harber, founding co-editor of the Weekly Mail, recalled:

We announced the event in our paper, with ‘Booker Prize Winners Speak’, which would bring Rushdie together with Nadine Gordimer and JM Coetzee, as a highlight. Rushdie would deliver a keynote on censorship, read from his latest work and take part in a panel discussion.

But by September 1988, Rushdie’s novel, The Satanic Verses: A Novel (published by Viking Penguin in February and shortlisted for Booker Prize), stirred up considerable controversy abroad and locally. Paul Trewhela reported that it was denounced by “certain Muslims in Cape Town and Johannesburg” as blasphemous. Trewhela described how threatening the situation became. Rushdie was threatened with death “should he have the temerity to arrive in South Africa to speak on censorship. These gentlemen threatened also to bomb his meetings and attack those who had invited him.”

Image of Salman Rushdie from his book The Satanic Verses: A Novel and published here on the cover of Index on Censorship Vol 18, No3, 1989. Index on Censorship

About a week before he was due to arrive, Rushdie called the Weekly Mail to inform them that he was getting death threats in response to his book and wanted to withdraw from the book fair. There had also been protests against Satanic Verses in the UK and India. The Weekly Mail itself was under heavy threat of closure by the South African state. Anton Harber, called Rushdie “and said in no uncertain terms that many people had stuck their necks out for him and he could not let us down. He agreed to come”. In an attempt to find a way of hosting Rushdie safely, the Weekly Mail arranged a meeting with about a dozen Muslim leaders and COSAW representatives, including Nadine Gordimer. COSAW, according to Weekly Mail journalist Adrian Hadland, announced that it “views with disgust the concerted campaign being waged against the visit of Salman Rushdie to South Africa. COSAW firmly opposes any form of censorship, particularly when that censorship is imposed via threats of violence.” Achmat said:

“the attempts by so called ‘Muslim fundamentalists’ to prevent Salmon Rushdie from coming to South Africa is shameful and tragic. The bitter irony that the purpose of his visit is to speak about censorship should not be forgotten, nor should it be overlooked that his detractors freely admit that they have not read the book which they claim denigrates Islam.”

However, the meeting could not find a way forward and COSAW withdrew its support for Rushdie’s visit. The South African government, as well as those of India, Afghanistan, Bangladesh, Egypt, Malaysia, Pakistan, Thailand, Indonesia, Saudi Arabia, Iran and many others then banned his book. According to Harber, Gordimer phoned London, “to convey the view that, to avoid violence and division within the liberation movement, he should not come”. It was proposed that Rushdie address the Cape Town book week via telephone, but the publishers and bookstores which supported the event opposed the idea. Instead Achmat’s comrade and friend Mongane Wally Serote, then also head of the ANC cultural desk in London, spoke at the Cape Town event. It was, Harber explained “a small victory in the face of defeat: getting a banned exile’s voice was some compensation for Rushdie’s absence, a lesser but not insignificant show of anti-censorship defiance.” Also at the part of the book fair held in Cape Town, famous South African novelist J.M. Coetzee attacked COSAW’s decision to disinvite Rushdie. Harber sketched the scene:

“…it was the inscrutable and unpredictable JM Coetzee, in his quiet, soft voice, who provided the fireworks which ignited one of the most electric encounters in literary South Africa. ‘We have been overtaken by the politics of writing in an ugly, violent and unexpected form,’ he told the Cape Town gathering. The ‘disinviting’ of Rushdie left the Weekly Mail organisers “more than a little embarrassed” and ‘the South African intellectual community, among which I count myself, comes out of the affair looking pretty stupid’, he said. He asked how we had ever got ourselves into the position where the writers’ union had a veto over our event”.

Gordimer challenged JM Coetzee, insisting that Rushdie’s safety had been COSAW’s prime consideration.

Meanwhile Gail Behrmann, unbeknown to the Weekly Mail and publishers, devised a plan for Rushdie to participate telephonically during the Johannesburg stretch of the festival. Anton described the Johannesburg event:

“We had told other media that the event was off and had no newspaper of our own, so we could only spread it by word of mouth over two days. We were astounded when about 500 people crowded into the room to stare at a near-empty stage while Afrikaans writer Ampie Coetzee, sitting in a large armchair, conversed with an absent Rushdie, who voice boomed through speakers and filled the room: ‘I’m very pleased to be with you, if only in this rather ghostly way.’ The atmosphere was magical: in the gloom of a state of emergency, in the horrors of the last few weeks, it was another small triumph against those trying to silence Rushdie and ourselves. We had no newspaper, but we were doing what we always tried to do: find imaginative ways to get around censorship, and share those ideas most challenging to authority.”

Script writing and Jobman

In this decade Achmat was introduced to the world of script writing. Achmat’s “Jobman” was made into a feature film directed by Darrell James Roodt in 1989. It, according to Martin Botha, “forms part of auteur Roodt’s trilogy on racial conflict in a rural milieu” alongside A Place of Weeping, (1986) and The Stick (1987) both produced by Anant Singh. Roodt and Singh have worked on several films together including Sarafina (1992) and Cry the Beloved Country (1995) and Achmat would work with on the script for Singh’s Mandela: Long Walk to Freedom (2013). Jobman was Roodt’s first film with American backing and produced by Christopher Coy. Achmat, Darrell Roodt and Greg Latter are credited as the script writers. This was Achmat’s first experience of script writing for films. He recalled:

“Well, I knew about the project and was given a film script to read and revise where necessary. When I discussed it with the producers, I realised that our conceptions of the story differed. I realised that the short story form was quite different from the medium of film. I was, however, concerned that the story should not be turned into some kind of Karoo western or local version of Rambo.”

The film was released in 1989 and differed from Achmat’s original short story. Achmat explained:

“When I eventually got to see the movie, I realised that it was different from my story, but not invalid. There were some changes. Mainly, it involved a shift in the focus away from the revolt of the black protagonist to the white farmer in an attempt by the director to expose Afrikaner power. In addition, Jobman’s reasons for revolt become personalised. As a thriller I think the film is quite powerful but it is certainly not an explicit political statement.”

The film was nominated in six categories in the annual AA Life / Mnet Film Awards alongside Achmat’s friend Oliver Schmitz’s Mapantsula. Tertius Meintjies won the award for Best Actor for his performance in the film. Jobman was also released on VHS in the U.S., Australia and Canada. To watch Roodt’s “Jobman” click here ( https://rarefilmm.com/2021/12/jobman-1989/ )

By the end of the decade, many writers became concerned about how one could remain politically committed in one’s work without making use of cliché and stereotypes. Achmat was one of those, like Njabulo Ndebele who called for writing about the struggles of communities in richer and more imaginative ways. Achmat explained:

“My view is that although our goal is to achieve liberation it is not necessary for us to turn all our writing into pamphlets in pursuit of that liberation This is a position articulated by Njabulo Ndebele on numerous occasions. Although the political role of the writer is important, it is, however, even of greater importance to stress the intrinsic artistic responsibilities of the writer. Writing in South Africa cannot be reduced to mere ideological, racial or even economic constraints. Its richness is the diffusion of all these aspects. The debate around South African literature has, for a long time, been reduced to two simple questions. Firstly, whether it furthers the struggle for liberation and secondly whether it has become hackneyed as a result. For me, writing about oppression is not a cliché, whereas writing continuously about the known aspects of oppression can become a cliché. In the effort to avoid what are considered clichés we should, however, be careful not to lose sight of the struggles of our communities. Finding a balance in these matters is the challenge writers are faced with in this country.”