Author Interview
- The Man With No Skin is your first published novel. Can you tell us how it evolved?
The Man With No Skin began as two short stories. The first was the story of Wambui, an African woman caught between traditional and modern worlds. The second was the story of the gardener and the white woman, eyeing each other across a huge cultural divide. There was a third story that needed to be told. Someone close to me had survived a death experience. There was a common thread to all of these stories: the individual caught between opposing forces.
I began to have recurring nightmares about a priest. For a long time, I struggled against him, wanting my main character to be anything but a priest. For one thing he was (of necessity) a man and who was I to take on a male persona? For another, a priest would not be a popular hero (especially now, in Ireland). And thirdly, for me, the process involved digging up a spiritual side of myself that I had denied for years.
Then the question came to me: what if the priest were to be at the center of all these oppositions? What if he is me, down deeper than male or female, religious or atheist, black or white?
I decided to allow the priest and so, our journey began.
- What is the significance of the title?
I first heard mention of 'the man with no skin' in a novel by the Kenyan writer, Margaret Ogola. She wrote of the first white man ever seen by the tribes' people of Western Kenya. They didn't understand that his skin was just a different color than theirs. They thought that he was a freak of nature and had no skin at all!
Later, in Thomas Pakenham's history, The Scramble for Africa, I came across the reference again. The man was James Hannington, an Englishman, and the first missionary bishop of East Equatorial Africa. He was taking a shortcut to the Church Missionary Society in Buganda, but was murdered on the orders of Mwangu, the king of Buganda, who was playing some unfathomable power game between the Christian churches.
In his early life, Ciarán identified with the spiritual mission of his hero, St. Ciarán of Cape Clear. In his new mission he identifies with 'the man with no skin,' going bravely forward into unknown territories of the human spirit without the safety net of creed or dogma.
- How did the time you lived in Nairobi influence your work? What are your most vivid memories from those years?
My time in Nairobi forced me to redefine everything I was. Before then, I never even knew that I was white. Such a definition had no relevance in the Ireland I grew up in, where the only black faces you saw were the doctors' in the hospital.
At first, it was strange being the odd one out in the black crowd. And in the first days, I found it hard to distinguish one person from another. But then I began to see the features and people would remind me of neighbors from home. Soon I found myself just noticing features and no longer noticing particularly that people were black. Coming home and seeing all the white faces was almost more of a culture shock. Maybe because I had never noticed before that they were white.
In Kikuyu, the closest word to my name (pronounced Oh-er-la) was 'orra' which is a warning, meaning 'run away quickly,' or 'get the hell out of here, fast.' So every time I introduced myself there was a smile and the beginning of a common language. And nobody ever forgot my name.
My most special memory is of the night that Nelson Mandela was elected president in South Africa. I stood up in our local pub and sang a song called "Mandela is the One" which was recorded by an Irish group, De Danann. The whole place went wild!
- Part of the message in the book is that priests are human too. How do you feel this will be interpreted by people of the Catholic faith?
I see Ciarán, essentially, as a good man. And, if he had never doubted his priestly mission, I believe that he would have remained faithful to his vows and the moral dilemmas of this book would not have arisen for him.
But Ciarán suffered a huge personal trauma that undermined his whole belief system. As he was unable to explain to Irungu: "There is no God. I am no longer a priest. My spiritual integrity is in tatters." It is out of this state of unbelief that he acts.
Some Catholics may see his actions as morally wrong. Some will even question his right to question what he believes. But, at least, he is not a hypocrite; his beliefs have shifted and his actions are consistently true to those beliefs at any given time.
- Talk about some of the spiritual aspects of the book.
"Where there is a path, it is someone else's way." Joseph Campbell.
This book (possibly like all books) is a spiritual journey. For Ciarán, that journey takes him beyond his traditional beliefs and dogmas to a freer, more open spirituality. It is a mythical journey of exploration.
The traditional Catholic view was that theirs was the only way. Anyone who didn't believe what they believed would burn in hell. People of other faiths were considered to be 'heathens' or 'pagans' - outsiders who were refusing to follow, or were ignorant of, the one true way. Ciarán's journey opens him to the possibility of many paths. In searching for his own, unique path, he acknowledges that sincere seekers and believers of other religions may be traveling on alternative paths that are equally valid.
- How does Father Ciarán's relationship with his family back in Ireland relate to his decision to remain in Africa after the attack?
In his pursuit of a spiritual life, I think that Ciarán turned his back on human relationships and that included his family. They have little relevance to his life now, or to his decision to remain in Africa.
Perhaps the attitudes of some of the people at his father's funeral are more indicative of his reason for not returning. Modern Ireland is a very alienating place for a priest to return to, having spent so long in Africa.
- Do you feel readers will condemn Father Ciarán for his relationship with Shiku?
This story is set in a culture which is traditionally polygamous and where polygamy is legal under the traditional law. Many Kenyans would probably agree with Julius' view, that the real misdemeanor was not the sexual relationship, but Ciarán's attempt to steal Shiku from her husband. And also, in his violation of rules that he and others like him had superimposed on the culture that was already there. I think that readers will judge his actions according to their own beliefs or lack of them.
- Is Father Ciarán's fear of Irungu a metaphor for his fear of his own recovery or his fear of his own inability to impact the cultural clash in Kenya?
I think that Ciarán's fear of Irungu is real. This man has attempted to kill him and he feels 'locked in' with the enemy. As he explores Irungu's motives and acknowledges his own part in provoking the attack, he becomes less fearful. But he still knows that Irungu, given similar circumstances, would be capable of doing the same thing again.
- During his recovery Father Ciarán writes his memoir. Do you see the art of writing as a form of healing? How so?
I agree with my great creative writing guru, Pat Schneider, who says: "Whether or not writing heals the writer is irrelevant. What matters is the power of the writing itself."
Ciarán begins writing his memoirs so that he will leave a record behind and so that he will set that record straight. Other parts of his writing are more like a journal and, certainly, journaling can be therapeutic. But I would distinguish between journaling and fiction writing. Ciarán moves into fiction and in writing about Irungu and Wambui, goes beyond what he knows. He uses fiction as a way to understand the 'villain' as hero of his own story.
In most works of fiction, you will find the basic archetypes of hero, villain, mentor, threshold guardian and shape shifter. It has been suggested that all of these characters, together, make up a map of the human psyche. Ciarán knows that in writing about Irungu, he is really writing about himself. But in putting himself in Irungu's place, he is meeting him on unfamiliar territory, beyond the differences of 'him' and 'me'. This relationship reflects my relationship with Ciarán, who is me but also my opposite.
For me, creating fiction is a process which takes me on an unfamiliar journey which is life changing. Healing may be a by-product of that, but my motivation is the thrill of the journey itself.
- The end of the book deals with the ability of people to forgive themselves and others within relationships. How does forgiveness become a reality?
Julius is the person who has most to forgive and he is, in a way, the character that I have most respect for. I see him in the role of mentor, to Ciarán, to Shiku. He possesses the kind of integrity that either of them might emulate. I think that he is a strong man who will carry the burden of responsibility for all of them.
Ciarán also finds forgiveness for Irungu. In time, he may even find a kind of gratitude to Irungu for changing his life and making him the person he has become.
- What do you want readers to learn from the book?
I'm not really hoping to 'teach' anybody anything. I believe that a good work of fiction holds up a mirror to our lives and a really great work of fiction throws back as many reflections as there are readers. I trust people to find their own path through this book, each at their own level, and I hope that they will discover their own lives there.
- Who are your writing influences? Who inspires you?
Chinua Achebe, of course. J.M. Coetzee, William Boyd, Joyce Cary. I know that Joyce Cary's Mister Johnson is seen as 'colonial literature,' but he's an Irishman who presents his character in a very Irish way. I see Mister Johnson as an African Christy Mahon - a mirror image of Synge's Playboy of the Western World.
I have been very influenced by Irish writers John Mc Gahern, James Joyce, Samuel Beckett, John Banville, Brian Moore and Jennifer Johnston.
My favorite non-Irish writers include Margaret Atwood, Graham Greene, Milan Kundera, Thomas Hardy and D.H. Lawrence.
I'm afraid I've been a bit of a laggard when it comes to American writers. There's Steinbeck, of course, and Raymond Carver and Flannery O'Connor. But, I'll enjoy catching up!
- What are you working on now?
I'm working on a new novel. It is a work of historical fiction set in Cork, in Ireland, around the turn of the twentieth century. It follows the lives of a mother and daughter through their individual love stories and their conflict with each other.
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