Tag: rural life

The Girl with the Louding Voice  by Abi Dare (Multicultural Fiction)

14-year old Adunni has grown up rural Nigeria with a drive to be educated that is foiled by her family’s lack of money for school fees and a father who thinks “a girl-child is a wasted waste, a thing with no voice, no dreams, no brain.” Married off at 14 as a third wife with a cruel elder wife and later sold into domestic slavery with a cruel mistress, she somehow never gives up hope — she has dreams of being a teacher and having a real voice — a Louding voice — that people will have to listen to.

The book is easy to read — the unique pidgin english (developed specifically for our fictional protagonist) wasn’t a problem, though I expected it to be. It was consistent and I found I adapted to its rhythm very quickly. There is no faulting the main message — that girls born into cultures where they are not educated, are married off at young ages into often polygamous households, or sold into domestic slavery — are still human, important, and valuable. Who wants to argue with that?

Adunni is a special character. She has real drive and an unquenchable curiosity despite the vicissitudes to which she is subjected. I loved the way she absorbed an education wherever she could find it. She read scraps of books when dusting in the library, she asked questions of everybody (despite receiving beatings for the impudence) and was constantly updating her understanding as a result. However, I did not enjoy reading it, and I’m trying to understand why.

First of all, it’s frustrating to read about such primitive conditions in the modern world with no real path to change. Although not explicitly stated, this story must take place in the Muslim Northern regions of Nigeria. While (civil marriage) polygamy is prohibited federally in Nigeria, polygamy is allowed in the twelve northern, Muslim-majority states as Islamic or customary marriages. And while the literacy rates hover between 80-90% (boys and girls) in the Southern part of Nigeria, the Northern regions show a 20% differential between boys and girls, with the boys at only 50-60% (source statista.com). So what exactly should I be doing with this information about how rural girls in Muslim Nigeria are living? I just find it depressing. The answers in this book are fictional and rely on help for one individual girl that came from a variety outsiders. One tiny drop in a giant bucket and I wasn’t left with the feeling that this kind of help would be easy to find.

Also, despite the fact that the (negative) practices and beliefs described are still in play today, it feels like the book is feeding right into Western stereotypes of Africans — uneducated, primitive, and holding beliefs anathema to our Western ideals of equality for all. And yet, Nigeria has the largest population and strongest economy in Africa, and leads the continent in literature, music, cinema and drama — surely there are other more nuanced worlds and characters who could populate a story. I much prefer the novels of Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie where each character is painted with the depth of an individual regardless of his or her identity and background.

So … well-written with an upbeat ending and some appealing characters, but I certainly didn’t feel inspired, nor did I feel like I learned anything new.

On Sarpy Creek by Ira S Nelson (Historical Fiction)

A hidden gem, this book was a bit of an adult Little House on the Prarie for me, following a tiny farming community in Montana from ~1920 to 1932 — through droughts, bank failures, and the ever present vicissitudes of rural life.  I loved the clean style — everything was so real and so matter of fact — there was no need for inserted drama or pointed narrative.  Instead , we are treated to the details of every day life with a window into the values, sense of duty, and struggles of individual characters.

Written in 1938 (and reprinted in 2003), there are none of our modern sensibilities subtly (perhaps unintentionally?) inserted into the sense these people had about their own lives.  It brought out for me the stark difference between life then and now — with absolutely no safety net outside of what your (few) neighbors might be able to provide.  Local Indians feature in the story and the engagement is nothing like the stereotypes I grew up with, nor are they like the updated pictures we like to paint today. We see different relationships created and evolving and once again the interactions between men and women don’t exactly follow stereotypes either past or present, but we are privy to people’s thoughts and reactions. Every person and interaction is both realistic and individual. 

I found it hard to put down (except when the smaller print drove me to rest my eyes).

A Door in the Earth by Amy Waldman (Literary Fiction)

Writing: 4.5/5 Plot: 4/5 Characters: 5/5

A beautifully written novel that captures the heart and complexity of life in rural Afghanistan. 21-year old Parveen is an Afghani American whose parents escaped the country in 1998. Inspired by the best-selling memoir “Mother Afghanistan” by Dr. Gideon Crane, Parveen decides she wants to “help.” She arranges through Crane’s Foundation to visit the village featured in the book and in which a state of the art clinic for women’s health has been built. An anthropology student, Parveen plans to investigate the “structural reasons and power dynamics” that explain why so many Afghani women are dying. However, once established in the village, she is repeatedly surprised by how very different reality is from that described in the book.

The narrative is equal parts external description — the stunning landscape, the people, the events — and internal evolution as she learns more about her privileged status as an American and how very abstract her interests are compared to the reality of what is needed.

Well-developed characters represent a variety of factions and opinions — Berkeley Anthropology Professor Bannerjee, with whom Parveen corresponds, maintains a liberal, but abstract and condescending view of the Afghani people; Lt Col Trotter, representing the US military, believes in the military goals to help the Afghan people and yet faces ever increasing resistance from the locals; Afghani Aziz interprets for the US military, desperate to keep his job and simultaneously keep things from blowing up. All treat the truth as something to be manipulated — Trotter explains that “war was about controlling the story as much as the territory”; Aziz does not interpret exactly but manipulates statements to be more acceptable to the other; Banerjee thinks nothing of betraying Parveen for the “greater good”; and Crane invented half of his “memoir” in order to sell books and inspire donations.

The writing is beautiful and well put together. The memoir style allows multiple layers to be exposed simultaneously — observations of the village and its inhabitants are simultaneously overlaid with anthropological commentary and Parveen’s exposition on her own growing awareness. I particularly appreciated the insightful and multi-faceted commentary about Americans on the global stage — motivations, approaches, and the sad contrast between laudable aims and failing implementations.

Overall, while I did not find this book uplifting or inspiring I did find it deeply educating. Highly recommended.

Good quotes:
“It bothers you Americans that the world is the way it is, doesn’t it?”

“The first time he’d met Dr. Gideon, he said, he also had to give his story. Americans collected and offered them like they were business cards.”

“In moments of clarity she understood that the village was a backdrop against which Americans played out their fantasies of benevolence or self-transformation or, more recently, control. She was as guilty of this as Trotter or Crane. She’d come to play at being an anthropologist, and play was all it had been, because at some point, without much thought, she’d set all her anthropological work aside.”

“The urge to intervene, a high of its own, was a hard habit to break. Salvation could become an addiction, too.”

“Fiction disguised as nonfiction in the service of justice had a long and noble history. Abolitionists had invented or amplified escape slave narratives to dramatize their cause…”

And yet she read on, recognizing that the muscle of moral superiority can be a pleasurable one to exercise. Perhaps Crane, in making this warty presentation of himself, understood that too.”

“It was her first awareness that perhaps there is no self, no core, unshaped by others. From the moment we’re conscious that we’re being viewed, we’re being molded.”

“ ‘What I am here to learn is why so many women in Afghanistan are dying. Without understanding the structural reasons, without tackling the power dynamics that prevent women from having a voice, let alone proper health care, nothing will change.’ She was feeling proud of this declamation and the doctor nodded, as if she were agreeing, then said, ‘At the end of a labor, Parveen, a woman lives, or she dies. That is all that concerns me.’ ”

“To be female here was to grasp at scraps of information and sew them into the shape you imagined reality to be. Into fictions, patterned on distortions and inventions. The women needed an accurate understanding of the peril in which they lived — and the reasons for it.”

“She had, within sight, something fundamental, and also painful. which was that to be an adult was to have to make decisions and take actions that might be wrong. That might cause harm. To live was to bruise, the doctor seemed to be saying: there was no other way. Unlike Professor Banerjee or Gideon Crane, Dr. Yasmeen projected no certainty about the right path to take, the one that would avoid error and hurt; indeed, she seemed skeptical there was such a path. She didn’t think that all the answers could be had, much less claim to have them herself.”

“The digitized faces, fingerprints, and irises of men who’d never left these mountains would live perpetually in a DC suburb. Eternal life of another kind.”

Thank you to Little, Brown and Company Books and NetGalley for providing an advance copy of this book in exchange for my honest review. The book will be published on August 27th, 2019.