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Review [published March 2008]
Athol Fugard: Tsotsi
Greg Lowe
South African author and playwright Athol Fugard’s
recently-published novel Tsotsi, is a compelling and
brutal tale that follows the life of the story’s eponymous
protagonist. Set in Sophiatown – a black township
in Johannesburg that was razed in the 1950s to
make way for homes for the whites – Fugard uses the
oppression of the apartheid regime that segregated the
lives of the country’s black and white populations, as
a backdrop for the novel’s main setting: deep-rooted
racism, the abject poverty of the black community,
brooding violence.
The book was originally written in draft form in the
early 60s, only to be resurrected and reedited some
20 years later. The bulk of the story focuses on three
transformational days in the life of Tsotsi, a stonecold
killer who leads a gang comprising of Die Aap,
nicknamed because of his slow brain and immense
strength; Butcher, an expert at murdering people by
skewering their heart with a sharpened bicycle spoke;
and Boston, who is brainy but a coward. The word
“tsotsi” itself means “gangster” or “thug”, and harks
back to a time when many South African township
BUY Athol Fugard books online from and
streets were plagued by such ruthless killers who
would kill for pennies or pleasure. Some say the word
is derived from Zoot suit, the chosen apparel of the
Hollywood hardmen of the day.
Tsotsi the character is a man without memory, name
or age – though one assumes he is in his early 20s. His
name is simply a banner, an indicator of the guiding
force behind his life and actions. Violence. Questions
about his past are not tolerated, and often lead to more
brutality being dispensed on the enquirer, as Boston
finds out for himself.
It is here that Fugard really works his magic. For
Tsotsi does not have a hidden past that he is trying
to cover up, or one that he is trying to remember: he
literally has no recollection. He is an intensely primal
character, for most parts practically devoid of selfreflection,
but when he does look inwardly all he sees
is “darkness”.
The few flashbacks of memory he has act as lighting
bolts that penetrate this darkness, a process that Tsotsi
finds deeply disturbing. For him it is simpler to view
life as ugliness and pain, and for those unlucky enough
228
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