Teju Cole visits Cape Town for the Open Book Festival and I am asked to lead a ‘literary walkabout’ of the city in his company. I worry that this might be a little contrived: can his hypnotic meditations on New York and Lagos really be superimposed onto such a different city? But as we begin our tour, he recalls the literary experiments of Guy Debord and the Situationists, giving us a more resourceful way of imagining the exercise. A regular route taken through the street grid of, say, Paris would be mapped as a geometric shape, then transplanted onto the countryside of Bavaria and retraced exactly, with random encounters and ‘psychogeographical’ resonances carefully noted. Artificial constraints to generate new insights; strict formulas to evade the formulaic.
And so we begin our walk through the city centre, listening to passages from Open City, as well as the work of local writers like Alex la Guma, Zoë Wicomb and K. Sello Duiker. Unexpected affinities emerge between the early Cape colony and the history of Manhattan Island that Cole’s novel so carefully excavates. Both were 17th-century Dutch garrisons; both became brutal slave ports. And in each, the built environment turns its back on the water that gave rise to it in the first place. In New Amsterdam, the deep and navigable Hudson River; in Cape Town, the millions of litres of fresh water flowing off Table Mountain, still running unseen below the city centre. Sailors would fill their barrels at a shoreline that has now been pushed back and paved over by car parks, head offices and flyovers: ‘Beneath the pavement, a beach!’Read More