Usha Rungoo, a Mauritian writer, scholar, teacher, speaker, and mother, has won the 2024 Commonwealth Prize for the Africa region.
She is one of five regional winners chosen from a record-breaking 7,359 entries. Rungoo earned the accolade for her short story “Dite,” which delves into a Mauritian woman's deep affection for tea and its colonial history.
In an interview with Asian Voice, Rungoo reflects on her South Asian heritage, the themes of “Dite,” and how her identity influences her writing.
Can you share the inspiration behind your short story “Dite” and why you chose tea as a central theme? How did you approach integrating a complex historical context into the narrative?
Dite draws inspiration from both the pleasure we, Mauritians, take in tea and from the colonial history of tea plantations in Mauritius. There is a way in which tea, along with other colonial goods, such as sugar and coffee, is baked into our morning and afternoon rituals. Yet, amidst our pleasure in these daily habits, we often overlook the troubling origins tied to colonial violence. This juxtaposition of tea as a source of both daily delight and historical oppression fascinates me.
Likewise, our life everyday, is peppered with pleasures inherited from colonial times. For example, Mauritians fluidly switch between Kreol, French, English, and various Asian languages in creative and enjoyable ways. Some jokes and nuances are only fully appreciated when one understands multiple languages, a skill widely shared among us. This linguistic diversity is a source of pleasure. However, it also reflects a hierarchical structure where proficiency in English and French is often perceived as more sophisticated and desirable than fluency in Kreol or Asian languages.
In Dite, tea serves as the central thread that weaves these elements together. Yet, the essence of Dite goes beyond tea; it explores how colonial legacies infiltrate our everyday lives, blending moments of pleasure and discomfort. I aim for my narratives to embrace these complexities harmoniously, which is not always easy to do.
Addressing colonial violence and its infiltration into personal and collective identities, how do you balance the personal and political aspects in your fiction?
There are personal elements from my own life woven into the story. Similar to Durga, I have a complex relationship with the French language, and my grandmother worked on a tea plantation from the age of 9 until she turned 70. Our personal experiences are deeply steeped in political contexts, and I don't see any contradictions there.
European empires ruled in violence for centuries, profoundly impacting the lives of millions. At its zenith, the British Empire controlled nearly 90% of the globe. Coloniality, i.e. the enduring structures of colonialism, continues to shape our lives today. In the face of such monumental events and systems, violence often becomes an abstract concept. For me, storytelling serves as a means to humanize this violence. I am particularly interested in exploring how our inner worlds are affected by these historical forces.
As a Mauritian writer, scholar, and diasporic South Asian, how do these identities influence your writing and perspective on storytelling?
I write from a complex positionality that encompasses multiple facets of identity. I am both a writer and a scholar, navigating my roles as an islander, an African, and with South Asian roots. I have spent half my life in Mauritius and the other half in North America. These diverse experiences and identities naturally weave through my storytelling and stylistic choices. And I have been intentional about holding all of them without contradiction.
These intersecting identities also overlap and intersect. There exists a stereotype that academics cannot embrace creativity, that research and critique are antithetical to imaginative expression. However, in my experience, each realm enriches the other; I integrate personal narratives into my scholarly research, and rigorous research and editorial standards inform my creative writing process.
As an African of South Asian heritage, my stories challenge conventional perceptions of these identities. Likewise, while I primarily write in English, my narratives are infused with French, Kreol, Hindi, and Mauritian Bhojpuri. Although the words are English, the rhythm of my writing often echoes the cadences of French and occasionally Hindi.
The UK is currently celebrating South Asian Heritage Month. Can you share what your cultural roots and heritage mean to you and contribute to your identity? How do you hope to pass on your heritage to the future generations?
When I was younger, I used to push against certain aspects of my identity. I viewed identity as monolithic, finding it difficult to reconcile all its facets. I identified as Mauritian but didn't always connect with my South Asian heritage. Now, I have a Hanuman statuette in my office and a Kali figurine at home. I've come to realize that while I'm not of India, I am desi, and I belong, in my own way, to a broader global community. I've also learned that there are diverse expressions of desi identity, just as there are varied ways to be African or Mauritian, and that it's a dynamic, evolving concept.
In terms of passing on this heritage to future generations, I do so through various means. Through literature, I educate my students about the histories and worldviews of my region. I also write about these, differently. With my four-year old son, I try to speak both Kreol and French, sharing stories from my own childhood. His father, a second-generation Indian American, connects him to his Gujarati roots, and I hope he will have a rich understanding of what it means to be desi. However, he will shape his identity based on his own experiences and perspectives. Whatever heritage I pass down to my son or students, they will interpret and integrate it in their own unique ways.
