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David Carter, ‘After Postcolonialism’, Meanjin , 66:2 (2007), 114–19. For Indigenous studies scholarship from the southern hemisphere that has decentred western literary histories, see, e.g., Alice Te Punga Somerville, Once Were Pacific: Māori Connections to Oceania (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 2012). For the African and/or pan-African perspective, see, e.g., Victoria J. Collis-Buthelezi, ‘Caribbean Regionalism, South Africa, and Mapping New World Studies’, Small Axe , 19:1 (2015), 37–54, and ‘Under the Aegis of Empire: Cape Town, Victorianism, and
observes, anything from AZAPO’s visionary pan-African idyll, to some generic post-independence black state, to the scurrilous Azania of Waugh’s Black Mischief (1932). What it is not is a neocolonial appropriation of Shakespeare, making vague obeisance to metropolitan heritage by whimpering ‘me too
as a self-preservation mechanism and sustain the detainees in many of these narratives. Just such a process is evident in Robben Island Hell-Hole: Reminiscences of a Political Prisoner , the memoir of Moses Dlamini, sentenced to a six-year term and imprisoned on Robben Island for two and a half years as a Pan African Congress (PAC) activist. His record of imprisonment is studded with calls
Mandela's release have Pan-African and Rastafarian overtones. He tells Chanelle: ‘Nelson is coming out. Our man he's coming out to lead us home … He's coming out of captivity. He's the Lion of Judah. He is the Emperor of Africa’ (Cartwright 1995 : 81). For Jason, who is eking out a precarious existence as a pimp and thief, Mandela represents the hope of a possible return to Africa (‘home’), venerated as Hailie Selassie reincarnate, the ‘Lion of Judah’. While almost as messianic and vague as Anthony's concept of Mandela, the hope that Mandela's release represents to