“I am nothing. I am the emptiness that wanders the streets in search of peace, rest, existence, life.”
“The Desert and the Drum” by Mauritanian author “I am nothing. I am the emptiness that wanders the streets in search of peace, rest, existence, life.”
“The Desert and the Drum” by Mauritanian author Mbarek Ould Beyrouk is a short read. Yet it holds profound thoughts within its pages. A young Bedouin woman named Rayhana lives with her tribe in the Sahara desert. She meets Yahya, a man who comes as part of an international mining team to the desert and pitches camp for a brief period. Rayhana gets pregnant. She gives birth. But her mother forces her to leave the baby and get married to another man. Rayhana does but she is consumed by the desire to find her child, and by the injustice of it all. And so she steals the most sacred possession of the tribe - an ancient drum - and runs away.
The story sounds ordinary when I describe it like this. Yet it goes beyond the mundane due to its lyrical prose and quirky characters Rayhana meets along the way, which include kind strangers and men with unsavoury intentions. She asks around for a girl who lived at their settlement as a slave and eventually ran away. They had been friends, and Rayhana knows Mbarka would help her.
Through her quest to find her son and Mbarka, Beyrouk cleverly takes on different voices. One is the voice of a cultural insider, of someone who is speaking as a member of the tribe, someone who has undergone a gross injustice, and someone who is a young girl. For a male author, Beyrouk is pitch perfect in this. And then there’s the voice of an observer who needs to explain to the reader, a foreigner. We understand the depth of Rayhana’s situation, the cultural pressure she is under in many moments, with Beyrouk’s unobtrusive explanations.
I felt Rayhana’s pain. And I also understood the whys, and they went beyond the reason of losing a child. I also got a great picture of Mauritanian society through the numerous characters and the kind of traditions Beyrouk deftly interweaves. The clash between the ways of the Bedouins and city-dwellers was most prominent and poignantly depicted with Rayhana trying to bridge the two. There’s a point, which shows this starkly, when it becomes necessary for Rayhana to have an ID or her “passport to civilisation” to get things done. In her world, things can be simpler.
“Why was a document required to know who someone was? Why not just use tribe, clan, family? Where I came from everyone was part of a tribe, and all the tribes spoke to and understood each other.”
There’s so much in this book. It’s a sharp observation of cultures within cultures. Of men and women. Traditions. The old and new. Tribe and city. Read it and you will be richer for it. ...more
For this month’s #readanewcountry, I chose a book from Gibraltar. First published in 1909, ‘Luna Benamor’ is a novelette by SpaMy rating is 3.5 stars.
For this month’s #readanewcountry, I chose a book from Gibraltar. First published in 1909, ‘Luna Benamor’ is a novelette by Spanish author Vicente Blasco Ibáñez, translated by Isaac Goldberg. Luis Aguirre is a Spanish consul who is transiting in Gibraltar, staying there for a few days while awaiting the boat that will take him to Australia, his final destination. During this time, he takes the opportunity to get himself acquainted with the town and the locals. He befriends some of them and has long conversations with others. Then he meets Luna, a Jewess, who lives with her grandfather, her uncle and his family and they fall in love. But things don’t turn out too well.
Luna and Luis start off as friends and then their relationship blossoms into more. But gradually cracks begin to appear as they discover they have opposing religious views, and different approaches to life and ways of thought, which are nearly impossible to transcend. As per the demands of tradition, Luna was also betrothed to a Jewish businessman when she was still a child. And although she had never been with him, she feels the need to keep her marriage vows. Ibáñez uses their tender love story to depict the customs and beliefs of Sephardic Jews and the people of Gibraltar, which are so alien to Luis. Luna is more traditional and reserved while Luis is broadminded and welcomes new experiences.
The rich, detailed description of Gibraltar at the turn of 20th century fills the first few pages. And it’s such a treat to read. Ibáñez gives us a very pictorial overview of the bazaars, streets, people, and general atmosphere of the place at the time. He has the unique ability to portray the ordinary with lyrical, vivid descriptions.
“The walls trembled, the floors shook, window panes and curtains palpitated, and a few moments later a noise was heard in the street, growing gradually louder; it was the sound of a hurrying flock, the dragging of thousands of feet, the buzz of conversations carried on in a low voice along the closed and silent buildings. It was the Spanish day laborers arriving from La Línea ready for week at the arsenal.”
And he shows the melting pot of religions and cultures that made up Gibraltar town, surprisingly. There were “Hebrew shops”, “Hindu bazaars” and shops selling “trinkets from the extreme Orient.” The exoticism and romanticisation in his descriptions are inevitable considering the time at which this was written but it still makes for good reading.
Luna Benamor is a quick read, and this novelette is part of an eponymously named short story collection. You can download it from Gutenberg. ...more
In Jamaica Kincaid’s “Lucy” the eponymously named young teenager comes to America to be an au pair for a well-to-do white family. On the surface, the In Jamaica Kincaid’s “Lucy” the eponymously named young teenager comes to America to be an au pair for a well-to-do white family. On the surface, the family seems perfect – young, white, blonde, rich, happy. Yet, Lucy instantly notices the cracks beneath this flawless surface. In parallel, she grows up too as she discovers her own independence and the myriad imperfections in her own life.
Lucy instantly strikes one as a headstrong person but not without her self-doubts. Time and again, Kincaid displays a masterly mix of scathing criticism of privilege and a peek into how Lucy is finding her footing in the new world.
“I had just begun to notice that people who knew the correct way to do things such as hold a teacup, put food on a fork and bring it to their mouth without making a mess on the front of their dress—they were the people responsible for the most misery, the people least likely to end up insane or paupers.”
See what I mean?
Set over the course of one year, every word in this book carries meaning, the weight of history, the burden of experience. It’s also momentous for Lucy as she crosses over from being a teenager to an adult as she turns 20-years-old. She finds her “first real past -- a past that was my own and over which I had the final word. I had just lived through a bleak and cold time, and it is not to the weather outside that I refer.”
She reflects over her life back in her home, an unnamed island, a life that she runs away from but is doggedly present in her every day where small things trigger memories of her philandering father, and a mother with whom she barely agrees on anything.
I could feel a lot of simmering rage in Lucy, and yet she is also the most perspicacious observer of life. She notices the small things which are usually laden with meaning but she is unable to connect with any of them. In fact, she is highly disengaged, disconnected with herself, the people she meets (except for Mariah, the children’s mother) and the world around her, perhaps a result of her trying to come to terms with the rush of feelings that seem to swarm around her all the time.
Heavily autobiographical (Kincaid also was an au pair who cut off relations from her family like Lucy) and written in elegant, spare prose, “Lucy” is a quick read. But by no means is it a fleeting story as Kincaid packs a lot into it to spark much thought.
This is my first Kincaid and it certainly won’t be my last. ...more
Family feuds, social hypocrisy, gender bias, and sexuality are just a handful of the themes covered in Elnathan John’s impressive Nigerian graphic novFamily feuds, social hypocrisy, gender bias, and sexuality are just a handful of the themes covered in Elnathan John’s impressive Nigerian graphic novel “On Ajayi Crowther Street.”
The story revolves around people living on said street, which forms a microcosm of Lagos and Nigeria on the whole. Everybody has their secrets, which give rise to rumours – some of it true, some false. The Pastor Akpoborie’s son, Godstime, struggles to come out to the world, his sister Keturah wonders how to disclose her pregnancy to her family, and their maid Kyauta hides a big secret that has big consequences.
It's not easy to pull of a novel like this and in the graphic format. John covers a huge cross-section of Lagos society through all the characters. And most of them individually represent a certain idea or attitude. Godstime and his best friend and love interest stand for homosexuality and the way it is perceived (with derision and denial). Mary is the liberal-minded, single girl who doesn’t have much of a social circle but is perhaps the strongest voice of reason. The Pastor Akpoborie is the model of goodness with his upholding of religious virtues, and so on.
The social critique is biting and the imagery serves to emphasise it more. Nothing is what it seems and John peels back the layers one by one as the story progresses to reveal the core of it all. There are a lot of issues addressed within this small space – from child labour to hypocritical attitudes to religious fanaticism to homophobia. John has written large parts of the book in Naija or Nigerian Pidgin, which lends it a sharp authenticity and sense of place. The illustrations are colourful and vibrant, bringing life on Ajayi Crowther Street alive. The book itself moves at a very fast clip, and I couldn't put it down.
While the street itself is fictional, the stories are not. We have a Pastor Akpoborie or a Godstime walking among us everywhere.
I read this book on Scribd. Highly recommended read. ...more
I really enjoy reading books that explore different aspects of ageing through individual voices. That’s what drew me to Sarah Ladipo Manyika’s novellaI really enjoy reading books that explore different aspects of ageing through individual voices. That’s what drew me to Sarah Ladipo Manyika’s novella “Like A Mule Bringing Ice Cream To The Sun.” Morayo is a 75-year-old Nigerian woman living in San Francisco. She is a retired English professor with a touch of whimsy and oddball cuteness. She is fiercely independent and likes to chat to people, listen to their stories. One day, she has a fall and needs to be rushed to the hospital, which shakes up her otherwise, fairly, uneventful days.
Moving at a gentle pace, Morayo invites you into her life. Slowly, you piece together a portrait of a woman with a colourful past. She was married. She had a lover. She wistfully imagines returning to her hometown in Nigeria but is reluctant to leave the cosmopolitan conveniences of her current city. All in all, Morayo is a person I would have found quite interesting to talk to.
I found the treatment of ageing exceptionally refreshing. When we think of a 75-year-old woman we unconsciously tend to picture someone frail, needing assistance. Au contraire, Morayo is spirited and strong. She might have aged but she is not old and she isn’t devoid of desires. She might be alone but not lonely for most parts. She has some senior moments, but she is capable of taking care of herself.
I thought there were a tad too many characters and I found the jump in narrations confusing at times. Other than that, this short character study is a delight with its spare, elegant prose, and quiet meditations on life both past and present. ...more
Being a teenager comes with its own problems and when you’re ‘different’ those problems are multiplied. In Buki Papillon’s coming-of-age novel ‘An OrdBeing a teenager comes with its own problems and when you’re ‘different’ those problems are multiplied. In Buki Papillon’s coming-of-age novel ‘An Ordinary Wonder,’ set in Nigeria, Otolorin is an intersex teenager who identifies as a girl but is forced to project herself as a boy. Oto’s mother favours her twin sister and treats Oto with disdain. However, Oto soon gets an opportunity to go to a residential school, which gives her the space to be herself. But then, there are new problems she needs to face.
I’m sure you’re thinking at this point that this is not an easy read. It's not, yes, in many parts. Where Oto is forced to go through exorcism rituals. Where she is treated badly by her own family. Where she struggles to find her voice.
Yet, there is hope in the friendship she forms with Derin. In the guidance she gets from the head of school. In the good things that do happen to her.
I loved how Papillon makes it strongly rooted in African culture and traditions by interweaving folklore and proverbs. Papillon’s writing is engaging and kept me fairly engrossed.
Where I felt the book lost steam was in the structure. The narrative moves back and forth in time and eventually merges, which I felt was unnecessary given the gap explored was not much. I also felt that at times certain turns in the story were kind of cliched and predictable.
Where Papillon shines is when she vocalises the turmoil in Oto’s head. The shame, the guilt, the frustration. It’s very easy to make the story out to be about Oto and her identity but there’s so much more to Oto than just that. Papillon does a fine sketch of Oto’s character along with some compelling storytelling, with strong emphasis on resilience and hope.
I thank NetGalley and Little Brown publishing for my copy....more
This is perhaps the first time I’m reading a translation from Morocco and it didn’t disappoint. Set in Tangier, Tahar Ben Jelloun’s The Last Friend isThis is perhaps the first time I’m reading a translation from Morocco and it didn’t disappoint. Set in Tangier, Tahar Ben Jelloun’s The Last Friend is the story of Mamed and Ali, two friends who meet as children and stay inseparable friends through their adult years. Then, something turns and suddenly Mamed walks away leaving Ali devastated.
There are similar, intensely written books on male friendship. A Little Life for one. But where Hanya Yanagihara’s boys set fire to those pages with emotional expressions Jelloun chooses to portray an old-fashioned, traditional male friendship that completely skirts them. Mamed and Ali are cerebral and sophisticated thinkers who share a passion for movies and art. They observe and debate political and cultural changes endlessly. They are pleasure-seekers too, spending time with many a woman in 1950s-60s Morocco.
“They were so inseparable that people called them twins.”
Yet, they hardly touched upon their inner lives. The troubles in their marriage. Issues with money. The wives who looked askance at their friendship. It’s a friendship that’s based on just a deep knowledge – “We’re friends because we share certain values and interests. We help each other, we have faced ordeals together, we know we can count on each other…”
At first, the book comes across as a mere ‘boys will be boys’ type of caper. No, it’s so much more than that. Apart from the fine portrayal of the bonds of true friendship, Jelloun introduces us to the politics of the time and how Mamed and Ali stand on the fringe of society for disagreeing with most of it. It’s also a smack on the hand for thinking Moroccan society would be made up of prudes. Jelloun’s relatable, conversational writing style makes everything all the more realistic.
What I didn’t get from the book was more insight into Morocco’s culture. No descriptions of neighbourhoods, buildings, clothes, or food. The world building is sparse in that sense. Mamed and Ali are both in love with Tangier, but we don’t get to see much of it. Their wives are also mere presences in the background without much to do or say other than essay stereotypical roles. In that sense, this is a book with a singular focus. In the end, I felt like I knew Mamed and Ali but didn’t really know them. Bit like their friendship. ...more
“It’s difficult to stop loving someone, even when they have done something that you once thought unforgivable. There isn’t an on off switch for love.”“It’s difficult to stop loving someone, even when they have done something that you once thought unforgivable. There isn’t an on off switch for love.”
Would you agree?
Tendai Huchu’s “The Hairdresser of Harare” asks us difficult questions like these. In this short, easy novel we see Zimbabwe and its people through the eyes of Vimbai, Harare’s star hairdresser. Until she is ousted from her perch by Dumisani, a young, cocky dude who walks in from nowhere. Dumisani quickly gains Vimbai’s hatred, and then friendship, and eventually love. But things are not what they seem.
This was a refreshingly different book that showed me the daily lives Harare residents through their struggles, and the prevalent class differences. The corruption, the politics, and the cultural contexts that made up Zimbabwe came alive in this novel.
One of the most vivid portions in the novel was when Vimbai and Michelle bribe their way through snaking queues at the passport office to get Vimbai’s passport. In another instance, a policeman stops a kombi (minibuses) driver
“Help me to help you,” the officer said in the quietest of voices. That was all the prompting the driver needed… He took a large wad of banknotes and handed it to the policeman…”
Sounds familiar? It made me smile. Isn’t that what books do? Bring you closer to a culture and also show you how humanity is, after all, not so different wherever we may be?
Huchu’s writing is simple, interspersed with many African words to give a good grounding. I just wish it had been tighter, without some of the soap opera style sections. He builds up the suspense and leaves hints along the way, which are all too easy to decipher. I could see the ending a mile away.
But this book is not about the ending. It’s all about the journey.
A light read with enough relevance and courage to warrant a spot on your TBR.
“Throughout your life, people may shout ugly words at you. Words like, "Go home, refugee!" or "You have no right to be here!" When you meet these peop“Throughout your life, people may shout ugly words at you. Words like, "Go home, refugee!" or "You have no right to be here!" When you meet these people, tell them to look at the stars, and how they move across the sky. No one tells a star to go home. Tell them, "I am a star. I deserve to exist just the same as a star.”
“When Stars are Scattered” is the true story of Omar Mohamed and his brother Hassan who had to live in Dadaab, a refugee camp, after escaping from war in Somalia. The story follows their life in the camp over a period of a few years as they desperately hope to be resettled in the US.
Victoria Jamieson brings Omar’s story to us in very readable, simple language made more vivid by the bold, colourful illustrations. Life in a refugee camp is, as expected, bleak but Omar and his brother, who is nonverbal, manage to find their pockets of joy. They play and banter with each other like kids anywhere. For a few moments you forget the context, and I guess that’s what the kids do too.
But reality is always lurking around, never far away. Omar lives in the hope that their mother would come find them, and every time he spots a woman he hasn’t seen before his heart flutters in hope. And every time the officials read out the list of names (it’s restricted to a certain number at a time) for resettlement, Omar hopes.
Life for Omar and his brother is lived in the troughs that exist in between these possibilities. It’s a few years before Omar and his brother get their golden opportunity and we feel every bit of the tension and worry that goes on behind the scenes until everything is confirmed.
I love how Jamieson has really let Omar do the ‘talking’, giving plenty of space for his personality and voice to emerge. Even amidst all the gloom, Omar is able to find humour and happiness. There is so much heart in this story.
Poignant and inspiring, this is a must read....more
This is an important book that needs to be widely read. Not just for the experiences of this brave author but for the kind of perspectives she gains fThis is an important book that needs to be widely read. Not just for the experiences of this brave author but for the kind of perspectives she gains from them. It's difficult to believe in a faith, any faith, and then completely shift gears and go against it because you have found compelling reasons to do so. That's exactly what Ayaan Hirsi Ali does even at great risk to her life.
It was a gripping read until the latter half when it slows down considerably. ...more
Interesting in its inside view on women's lives (and men's) but slightly meandering. Tinged with magical realism as well, and am not exactly a fan of Interesting in its inside view on women's lives (and men's) but slightly meandering. Tinged with magical realism as well, and am not exactly a fan of that. Perhaps, that's why I wasn't extremely impressed. However, the writing is poetic and I enjoyed that....more
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