Chronicles 5: My Encounter with German through Literature at Chavakali High School

CHRONICLES 5

My Encounter with German through Literature at Chavakali High School

by

Egara Kabaji

Long before I imagined that I would travel beyond Kenya, I had already encountered German literature. I did not know it then and I paid little attention to where the literature we studied originated. I was an A-level student at Chavakali High School when I read Bertolt Brecht’s play, The Caucasian Chalk Circle, as a set text.

I never imagined that many years later, I would find myself in Germany, reflecting on a play I had studied as a schoolboy in Kenya. My arrival at the University of Bayreuth has made me think about The Caucasian Chalk Circle afresh. I am wondering how much that interaction contributed to my literary development. Obviously, literature influences us in ways we do not immediately recognise. But for me, some books leave me with characters and scenes that remain in my memory for a long time. A small trigger, even just an experience, brings them back to life. This, I think, is what has happened.

I have been thinking about Azdak and Grusha, the main characters in the play. He is a funny, unconventional judge. There was something strange about his unpredictable approach to justice. That is what makes him unforgettable. He is always determined to turn established expectations upside down.

Now that I am in Germany, I am asking myself questions I would not have asked as a high school student. What was Brecht trying to communicate through this unusual judge? Why did the character make such a lasting impression on me? I think the play is much more than the story of a funny judge. No. It is a political and philosophical drama. Why do I say so?

The central conflict in the play revolves around ownership, justice and social responsibility. The question is who deserves to possess something. I am particularly interested in the ideological contest that opens the play. Two groups of farmers dispute the right to occupy and cultivate a valley. One group consists of goat herders who claim the land because they have traditionally occupied it. Their argument rests on historical possession and customary entitlement. They believe the valley belongs to them because they have lived there and used it for generations.

The other group consists of fruit growers who propose to irrigate the valley and use it to produce more food. Their argument is based on productive use and collective benefit. They believe the land should go to those who can develop it and make it more productive. Azdak’s decision favours the fruit growers because of their plans for the land.

Why is this opening interesting to me? Because it places two competing ideologies before the audience. Is ownership determined by historical occupation and tradition, or should it depend on the capacity to use a resource productively for the benefit of society? Who has the stronger claim to something: the person who has possessed it for generations or the person who can demonstrate how it might serve a wider purpose?

These questions concern how societies distribute resources and justify ownership. Brecht introduces this contest at the beginning to prepare us for another dispute in which the meaning of ownership becomes even more personal. This next story is what I remember most. In brief, a rebellion breaks out against the Governor. As his household collapses, his wife, Natella Abashwili, flees but leaves behind her infant son, Michael. Grusha, a kitchen maid, takes responsibility for the abandoned child. She risks her safety and makes personal sacrifices to protect him.

Does this story remind you of a biblical account? King Solomon was confronted with a dispute between two women, each claiming to be the mother of the same child. He proposed dividing the child in two. The true mother reveals herself through her willingness to surrender the child rather than see him harmed. In Brecht’s play, we encounter a related question about motherhood and the meaning of a genuine claim to a child. Is this intertextuality at work? The connection interests me because literature does not exist in isolation. Stories speak to other stories across cultures, generations and traditions. As a critical reader, I recognise these connections to discover new meanings in a text.

In The Caucasian Chalk Circle, Natella returns to claim Michael because he is her biological son and the heir to the Governor’s property. Grusha, who has nurtured him and kept him alive, has to defend her relationship with the child in court. The dispute echoes the argument between the farmers. Is the stronger claim based on birth and legal entitlement, or on the capacity to care for what is claimed?

Why does Brecht place these disputes alongside each other? I think he is inviting us to look beyond the mere assertion of a claim and consider what the claimant intends to do with what is claimed. The valley and the child are very different things, but both conflicts raise questions about ownership and responsibility.

Let me go back to Azdak, the judge whose memory has survived the passage of time. I remember one particularly outrageous courtroom episode. He orders the public prosecutor to drop his knife and then tells Ludovica, the woman in the case, to pick it up. Observing her movements, he declares that she has raped the man. This reversal is absurd. Azdak’s judgments unsettle the conventional image of a judge who applies established rules consistently. Looking at this as a literary scholar and law student, I find myself asking what the episode reveals about judicial discretion and the law of evidence. Can a decision that appears unconventional expose the weaknesses of an institution while also reproducing injustice?

Azdak is not necessarily a model judge. I think his importance lies in his ability to make us question what justice means and who benefits when the law is administered. The scene that amused me as a schoolboy now gives me reason to think about the relationship between judicial authority, evidence and fairness. A literary character has now acquired a new significance as my experiences and intellectual interests change.

Azdak places Michael inside a circle drawn in chalk and instructs Grusha and Natella to pull the child towards themselves. Natella pulls forcefully. Grusha refuses to pull with all her strength because she does not want to hurt the child. Azdak interprets her reluctance as evidence of genuine maternal care and awards Michael to her.

Let me return to the main question running through the play. Does a claim become legitimate simply because it is supported by birth or established rights? Should we also consider the responsibilities that accompany ownership? Grusha demonstrates that care is not merely a feeling. It is expressed through sacrifice. Why am I discussing this book in Germany? The book has returned to me and made me reflect on the relationship between my past and present intellectual life. The schoolboy who laughed at Azdak and the professor who now questions his judgments are the same person, separated by years of reading, teaching and writing.

As a Cluster Chronicler at the University of Bayreuth, I am learning to pay attention not only to the experiences around me but also to the memories and ideas those experiences awaken. I am convinced that a chronicler need not simply record places visited and people encountered. He should also document the mind at work. He has to make connections between earlier experiences and the new intellectual environment.

END