The Editor of Bookbird, Dr. Meena Khorna, has graciously granted permission to reproduce her editorial from Bookbird, Volume 34, No. 4 (Winter 1996): 2-3.
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Dear Bookbird Reader, In reflecting on the theme for this issue, I was irresistibly drawn to my schooldays in India, to the fact that I has lived the postcolonial realities and their attendant ironies. My British public school in Simla, the summer capital of the Raj, which admitted Indian girls after decolonization, was established on the principles of Thomas Arnold and was modeled after Rugby. My life at Auckland House School (formerly the summer residence of a viceroy) was replete with contradictions: as a Hindu girl studying in a Protestant school I learned to read and write English before my mother tongue; I wore the required uniform with blazer, tie, and beret; I acquired the nickname "Minnie"; I attended dance socials with the brother school; and I eagerly read the British periodicals Girls Crystal and School Friend and---yes---Enid Blyton's mysteries and adventures. The pressure to conform made me an outsider in this very "foreign" environment. Since I was a day scholar, my daily crossing from the familiar world of home to the "mall" and ridge area of this typical British resort town nestled in the Himalayas helped me to negotiate my dual existence. As I became an insider, I realized that Auckland House was the microcosm of our postcolonial mixing of cultures. We studied with the daughters of African leaders, Nepalese royalty, ex-colonials who had "stayed on," and Indian military officers and diplomats seeking a Western education for their daughters. The school had an overarching cosmopolitan culture and a philosophy that allowed each of us to define her individual national identity, as well as to develop skills for living in the commonwealth of nations. Postcolonial children's literature resonates with the atmosphere of flux, culture conflict, and enriching experiences that Auckland House offered. The articles submitted for this issue of Bookbird discuss postcolonial themes from the perspective of both the former colonies and the imperialistic nations. The situation in the newly independent nations of Africa, Asia, and South America, in particular, presents a dichotomous approach. On the other hand, colonial authors such as Emilio Bonelli, Rider Haggard, Edgar Rice Burroughs, Enid Blyton, and Fernanda de Castro continue to have an alluring charm for young readers; and the genres, plots, and themes of colonial literature are imitated---usually in the language of the colonizers---by the emerging children's book industry in these nations because they provide a lucrative market. Senegal, for instance, is finding it difficult to develop an indigenous children's literature because of the power of imported French publications. On the other hand, folktales and historical stories are published to counteract the influence of Western civilization on youth by infusing pride in their traditional heritage and the national struggle for cultural and political independence. Realistic literature confronts readers with problems in postcolonial times---the need for rapid progress, widespread education, technology, basic health for citizens---and the responsibility of the younger generation to achieve these goals. Ironically, when Western authors discuss the same issues they are often condemned for their neocolonial attitude and the invasiveness of Western civilization. This objection raises the question of who has the authority to speak for whom. Postcolonial literature produced in Western countries is equally complex because it reflects the multiple voices of hitherto marginalized groups: it seeks to right the wrongs of the past; it denounces Western imperialism and the ideology of supremacy over the colonized races; it critically examines colonial history and the advantage of colonial expansion; it analyzes racist stereotypes in illustration, characterization, plot, setting, and theme. This enlightened approach has led to the publication of superior books that celebrate the oral traditions of indigenous cultures; narrate the untold stories of the subject peoples under colonial rule; recognize the vital contributions of immigrants to the white settler colonies; and reveal the inherent problems in a culturally and racially diverse society. Marcellino's cover art for The Story of Little Babaji perpetuates the stereotype of the little maharajah, dressed in sherwani and upturned jootis and riding a tiger, instead of presenting the protagonist as the village boy that he is. Postcolonial discourse is also revisionist. Many controversial colonial books---such as the Doctor Doolittle series and Helen Bannerman's The Story of Little Black Sambo (1899)---have been republished with the racist and objectionable parts left out or rewritten. Ironically, some of these revisions have created new stereotypes. For instance, Fred Marcellino's The Story of Little Babaji (New York: HarperCollins, 1996) is free of its destructive and racist associations with Africans and African Americans, but it continues to offend. The stereotypical names, doll-like and wooden physiognomy, and ludicrous poses have now been transferred to Indians. Cultural details are used for their exotic appeal and are inconsistent with the professional and socioeconomic status of the family in the story. However, neither this version nor any of the others that set the story in India, where Bannerman wrote it for her two daughters, tells the real story---the fascination that British children born and raised in India had for the land of their birth and childhood. From their servants these little Babajis and Babyjis (as their ayahs would call them, who used the respectful "ji" even when talking to young children) learned to speak the Indian languages before English; they were entertained with Indian folk tales; they were attracted to the bazaar life outside the walls of their bungalows; and they were traumatized when sent to school in England. Some of these children have written nostalgically about their childhood experiences---Rumer Godden, M.M.Kaye, Ruskin Bond---and it is an irony of our postcolonial times that Indian culture is just as much a part of their lives as British colonial life is a part of my heritage. Yours sincerely,
Meena G. Khorana
Created July 4, 1997 and is continuously revisedSCILS, Rutgers, The State University of New Jersey |
