In praise of older books: Masai Dreaming by Justin Cartwright (1993)

Week 44: Julie Parsons’ favourite books


Tim Curtiz has gone to east Africa to research a film. It’s the story of French anthropologist Claudia Cohn-Casson, who recorded the songs and legends of the Masai in the 1930s, until she returned to Paris, from where she and her family were deported to Auschwitz.

This part of Africa is familiar to Tim who lived there as a child. “Muthaiga Club, where I am staying, releases forgotten gusts of memory, like those lilies which only exhale their sweet perfume at night.” He is employed by Hollywood producer SO Letterman, whose view of writers is dismissive. They “are a dime a dozen” and “spend too much time thinking about the ambivalences”. Tim fits the description. He is looking for the real Claudia, but the harder he looks the more ambivalence he finds. What was her relationship with Tepilit, a Masai warrior, hanged for killing the local district officer? And with Tom Fairfax, colonial administrator? Who was she betraying?

Young actresses

Meanwhile, Letterman is in Paris “auditioning” French actresses to play Claudia. “In his career he has f*cked many young actresses. Sometimes he has felt that they were not one hundred per cent willing.” And he knows that only an American star will satisfy the demands of the box office. But Tim, engrossed in Claudia’s world, no longer cares. The pain of the past far outweighs the petty corruptions of the present.

The book is suffused with regrets and misunderstandings. The Masai offer cattle in reparation for Tepilit’s offence; they misunderstand the colonial administration who insist on applying their laws to his crime. Claudia’s father, a Jewish doctor who has assisted the Nazis, thinks he can protect his family. He misunderstands the ruthlessness of the Nazi laws.

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A letter from Claudia, thrown from the cattle truck heading for Germany: “Darling Tom. . . Please tell the Masai that whatever they may think of me, they are always in my thoughts. I dream about them.” The image lingers: the woman on the ramp at the death camp, a huge glow in the sky.