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Nervous Conditions
A modern classic in the African literary canon and voted in the Top Ten Africa's 100 Best Books of the 20th Century, this novel brings to the politics of decolonization theory the energy of women's rights. An extraordinarily well-crafted work, this book is a work of vision. Through its deft negotiation of race, class, gender and cultural change, it dramatizes the 'nervousness' of the 'postcolonial' conditions that bedevil us still. In Tambu and the women of her family, we African women see ourselves, whether at home or displaced, doing daily battle with our changing world with a mixture of tenacity, bewilderment and grace.
204 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1988
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About the author
Tsitsi Dangarembga
15books1,022followersSpent part of her childhood in England. She began her education there, but concluded her A-levels in a missionary school back home, in the town of Mutare. She later studied medicine at Cambridge University, but became homesick and returned home as Zimbabwe's black-majority rule began in 1980.
She took up psychology at the University of Zimbabwe, of whose drama group she was a member. She also held down a two-year job as a copywriter at a marketing agency. This early writing experience gave her an avenue for expression: she wrote numerous plays, such as The Lost of the Soil, and then joined the theatre group Zambuko, and participated in the production of two plays, Katshaa and Mavambo.
In 1985, Dangarembga published a short story in Sweden called The Letter. In 1987, she also published the play She Does Not Weep in Harare. At the age of twenty-five, she had her first taste of success with her novel Nervous Conditions. The first in English ever written by a black Zimbabwean woman, it won the African section of the Commonwealth Writers Prize in 1989. Asked about her subsequent prose drought, she explained, "There have been two major reasons for my not having worked on prose since Nervous Conditions: firstly, the novel was published only after I had turned to film as a medium; secondly, Virginia Woolf's shrewd observation that a woman needs £500 and a room of her own in order to write is entirely valid. Incidentally, I am moving and hope that, for the first time since Nervous Conditions, I shall have a room of my own. I'll try to ignore the bit about £500."
Dangarembga continued her education later in Berlin at the Deutsche Film und Fernseh Akademie, where she studied film direction and produced several film productions, including a documentary for German television. She also made the film Everyone's Child, shown worldwide including at the Jameson Dublin International Film Festival.
She took up psychology at the University of Zimbabwe, of whose drama group she was a member. She also held down a two-year job as a copywriter at a marketing agency. This early writing experience gave her an avenue for expression: she wrote numerous plays, such as The Lost of the Soil, and then joined the theatre group Zambuko, and participated in the production of two plays, Katshaa and Mavambo.
In 1985, Dangarembga published a short story in Sweden called The Letter. In 1987, she also published the play She Does Not Weep in Harare. At the age of twenty-five, she had her first taste of success with her novel Nervous Conditions. The first in English ever written by a black Zimbabwean woman, it won the African section of the Commonwealth Writers Prize in 1989. Asked about her subsequent prose drought, she explained, "There have been two major reasons for my not having worked on prose since Nervous Conditions: firstly, the novel was published only after I had turned to film as a medium; secondly, Virginia Woolf's shrewd observation that a woman needs £500 and a room of her own in order to write is entirely valid. Incidentally, I am moving and hope that, for the first time since Nervous Conditions, I shall have a room of my own. I'll try to ignore the bit about £500."
Dangarembga continued her education later in Berlin at the Deutsche Film und Fernseh Akademie, where she studied film direction and produced several film productions, including a documentary for German television. She also made the film Everyone's Child, shown worldwide including at the Jameson Dublin International Film Festival.
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April 27, 2021
I am long due with a review for this novel but I do not think I can write anything relevant. I read Nervous Conditions while suffering from a bad reading slump and, to be honest, I struggled through it. I realised it is not the book’s fault and after trying to be as objective as possible I gave it 4*.
The opening line “I was not sorry when my brother died. Nor am I apologizing for my callousness, as you may define it, my lack of feeling� is an excellent attention grabber and made me very eager to continue. The tone settled down though.
I seem to have a writers� block every time I try to compose a comprehensive review of this novel so I will only mention some of the themes it discusses: postcolonial identity, women’s condition in a patriarchal society and education. It is a classic of African literature and it deserves to be read. I am sorry I could not do this book justice.
The opening line “I was not sorry when my brother died. Nor am I apologizing for my callousness, as you may define it, my lack of feeling� is an excellent attention grabber and made me very eager to continue. The tone settled down though.
I seem to have a writers� block every time I try to compose a comprehensive review of this novel so I will only mention some of the themes it discusses: postcolonial identity, women’s condition in a patriarchal society and education. It is a classic of African literature and it deserves to be read. I am sorry I could not do this book justice.
January 22, 2018
Last year I discovered the writing of Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie. Writing contemporary accounts of Nigerians in both Africa and in the United States and England, Adichie has becoming a leading African feminist voice. Before Adichie, thirty years ago Tsitsi Dangarembga attempted to assert rights for African women in both her writing and film making. Needing an African classic for my classics bingo this year, I decided upon Dangarembga's debut autobiographical novel, Nervous Conditions, which is influential enough to be included in the book 500 Great Books by Women by Erica Baumeister. Reading through the books in this anthology is a personal ongoing challenge of mine, so I was happy to immerse myself in Dangarembga's work.
From Zimbabwe and educated in Germany, Dangarembga wanted to expose her children to Africa and returned as an adult. She bases the story in this novel on her own upbringing and it is evident from the opening pages. Readers meet Tambudzai, a precocious rural African girl who has no future other than living on a Rhodesian homestead with her family until she marries. Her uncle Babamukara decided his future at age nine when he started school and reached the top of class. Later on a scholarship, he attended secondary school and university in South Africa and later England. His wife Maiguru has been equally educated, and through their education, the couple become the headmaster and head mistress at a prestigious missionary school in central Rhodesia. It is through this education that Babamukara attempts to uplift his entire family so that they are viewed as the most prestigious members or Rhodesian society. It is in this regard that he sponsors the education of Tambudzai's brother Nhambo. As the eldest sibling and only boy, the future hinges on Nhambo to use education to uplift his family away from their primitive conditions.
Like Babamukara's children Nyasha and Chido who have been educated in England and at the missionary school for their entire lives, Nhambo develops a sense of arrogance towards his family, especially toward his younger sisters reminding them that they are girls and that the homestead is their future. Then, through Tambudzai's narration, Dambarembga writes of the opportunity that Tambudzai gains. At age fourteen, tragedy strikes: at the mission, Nhambo develops the mumps and dies in mere days. The mother is beside herself even though is less developed societies the death of one's children is commonplace. Babamukara decides to sponsor Tambudzai's education because he feels that the family still needs someone to lift it out of poverty. As a result, Tambu moves into her uncle and aunt's care, away from the homestead and poverty, and into a luxurious life.
As in many coming of age books, Nervous Conditions is not without conflict. Tambudzai is taken under Nyasha's wing and views firsthand how life in England has made her arrogant and vows not to repeat this behavior. Babamukara praises Tambudzai as a model child and wishes that his own daughter would follow in suit. Nyasha, unfortunately, by the time she reaches puberty is more English than African and some of her disdain for primitive Africa has rubbed off on Tambudzai. While Tambudzai still loves her family and wishes her sisters the best, she finds it harder and harder to return to the homestead with each passing vacation. There is no electricity or plumbing or books and life on the Rhodesian plane has become tougher to face. Tambudzai finds faults in both of her parents and wish that they would adhere to her uncle's example of using education as a means of bettering oneself in society. Yet, her father is the laziest member in his family, and her mother having had no education and married since age fifteen have no future ahead of them. Tambudzai does not forget the upbringing that she came from, but on her later visits home she vows to achieve as much education as possible for a female from her era in order to lift her family out of its primitive conditions once and for all.
In the past few years I have not enjoyed coming of age books. I find as the protagonists are the age of my children that I suffer from a generation gap in my reading. During the last few months, I have read quality coming of age fiction, offering me hope for the genre moving forward. Tsitsi Dangarembga is an example of how education has lifted her out of poverty. Primitive lifestyles and few rights for women are still issues facing Africans today, so when Nervous Conditions was first published in 1988, the work was considered groundbreaking. Dangarembga has paved the way so that authors like Adichie have a platform today, and for that I feel privileged to have had read her work. In recent years, she has written two follow up novels so readers see where education has taken Tambudzai, and I look forward to following her on her journey through life.
4.5 stars
From Zimbabwe and educated in Germany, Dangarembga wanted to expose her children to Africa and returned as an adult. She bases the story in this novel on her own upbringing and it is evident from the opening pages. Readers meet Tambudzai, a precocious rural African girl who has no future other than living on a Rhodesian homestead with her family until she marries. Her uncle Babamukara decided his future at age nine when he started school and reached the top of class. Later on a scholarship, he attended secondary school and university in South Africa and later England. His wife Maiguru has been equally educated, and through their education, the couple become the headmaster and head mistress at a prestigious missionary school in central Rhodesia. It is through this education that Babamukara attempts to uplift his entire family so that they are viewed as the most prestigious members or Rhodesian society. It is in this regard that he sponsors the education of Tambudzai's brother Nhambo. As the eldest sibling and only boy, the future hinges on Nhambo to use education to uplift his family away from their primitive conditions.
Like Babamukara's children Nyasha and Chido who have been educated in England and at the missionary school for their entire lives, Nhambo develops a sense of arrogance towards his family, especially toward his younger sisters reminding them that they are girls and that the homestead is their future. Then, through Tambudzai's narration, Dambarembga writes of the opportunity that Tambudzai gains. At age fourteen, tragedy strikes: at the mission, Nhambo develops the mumps and dies in mere days. The mother is beside herself even though is less developed societies the death of one's children is commonplace. Babamukara decides to sponsor Tambudzai's education because he feels that the family still needs someone to lift it out of poverty. As a result, Tambu moves into her uncle and aunt's care, away from the homestead and poverty, and into a luxurious life.
As in many coming of age books, Nervous Conditions is not without conflict. Tambudzai is taken under Nyasha's wing and views firsthand how life in England has made her arrogant and vows not to repeat this behavior. Babamukara praises Tambudzai as a model child and wishes that his own daughter would follow in suit. Nyasha, unfortunately, by the time she reaches puberty is more English than African and some of her disdain for primitive Africa has rubbed off on Tambudzai. While Tambudzai still loves her family and wishes her sisters the best, she finds it harder and harder to return to the homestead with each passing vacation. There is no electricity or plumbing or books and life on the Rhodesian plane has become tougher to face. Tambudzai finds faults in both of her parents and wish that they would adhere to her uncle's example of using education as a means of bettering oneself in society. Yet, her father is the laziest member in his family, and her mother having had no education and married since age fifteen have no future ahead of them. Tambudzai does not forget the upbringing that she came from, but on her later visits home she vows to achieve as much education as possible for a female from her era in order to lift her family out of its primitive conditions once and for all.
In the past few years I have not enjoyed coming of age books. I find as the protagonists are the age of my children that I suffer from a generation gap in my reading. During the last few months, I have read quality coming of age fiction, offering me hope for the genre moving forward. Tsitsi Dangarembga is an example of how education has lifted her out of poverty. Primitive lifestyles and few rights for women are still issues facing Africans today, so when Nervous Conditions was first published in 1988, the work was considered groundbreaking. Dangarembga has paved the way so that authors like Adichie have a platform today, and for that I feel privileged to have had read her work. In recent years, she has written two follow up novels so readers see where education has taken Tambudzai, and I look forward to following her on her journey through life.
4.5 stars
May 10, 2016
Identity is a powerful concept. But how does one establish such a thing? Conventionally it develops from childhood due to an association with home and place. But what happens if your home is changing? What happen if you’re taken away from that home? Indeed, if you are forced to accept another culture’s ways and customs, who is the “you� that is left? What nationality do you become?
These are the question Tambu has to ask herself. She’s a young black girl living in a small, rural, improvised village in postcolonial Rhodesia. She initially believes that her ticket to self-improvement is through education. However, the only education available is the white man’s education. She learns to speak English, and eventually she looks back on her origins with an air of indifference and woe. Not as much as her brother did, but to a degree that considers them underdeveloped and primitive. Again, this is the white man’s education coming through. She has opportunities afforded to few, but is this a good thing if she comes to scorn her origins?
"It’s bad enough . . . when a country gets colonized, but when the people do as well! That’s the end, really, that’s the end."
She, like her cousin Nyasha, becomes a creature of flux, a hybrid, a person that walks between worlds and cultures without a true home. She can no longer fit in with her kin at the village; her intellect has gone beyond that. But, she cannot fit into the white man’s world because she is black. She is too white to be black, and to black to be white. Franz Fanon’s (Black Skins, White Masks) arguments become thematic here; he argued that to accept the white man’s culture is to allow the African heritage to be destroyed. It, in essence, leaves the black man wearing a white mask.
As well as being a black person, Tambu is also a woman in an incredibly misogynistic society. She has to deal with the dominating nature of the patriarchal culture, and the oppression associated with it. So, life for Tambu is rather shit because everyone treats her like shit.
Here’s some terrible advice she receives when she is young:
"Can you cook books and feed them to your husband? Stay at home with your mother. Learn to cook and clean. Grow vegetables."
This is such a strong story with such a strong message. In essence it’s a response to Achebe’s Things Fall Apart which is a response to Conrad’s Heart of Darkness. So, that’s lots of responses! What the author is trying to portray, in a persuasive and compelling manner, is the voice of the colonised female, the voice of her ancestors and the effects on the everyday life of one living in postcolonial Africa. Achebe’s protagonist was incredibly misogynistic; he beats women down. In this, Tambu has a chance to prove her worth in such a male dominated society.
Her awakening does come very late in the novel; it takes her a long time to realise the absurdity of her situation/condition and it does eventually completely change her. The novel is narrated retrospectively, so we do know it’s coming, but it’s still great to see her find her voice and become an empowered women. By the end she develops the will to speak out and stand up for what she believes in. Tambu comes to hate the men of her family; she comes to hate every aspect of her situation: she becomes hardened and convinced not to conform to the white man’s way. She’s still got a lot of prejudice to wade through before the world accepts her, but I feel like she will get there.
"You can't go on all the time being whatever’s necessary. You've got to have some conviction, and I’m convinced I don't want to be anyone’s underdog."
This is a great coming of age story.
These are the question Tambu has to ask herself. She’s a young black girl living in a small, rural, improvised village in postcolonial Rhodesia. She initially believes that her ticket to self-improvement is through education. However, the only education available is the white man’s education. She learns to speak English, and eventually she looks back on her origins with an air of indifference and woe. Not as much as her brother did, but to a degree that considers them underdeveloped and primitive. Again, this is the white man’s education coming through. She has opportunities afforded to few, but is this a good thing if she comes to scorn her origins?
"It’s bad enough . . . when a country gets colonized, but when the people do as well! That’s the end, really, that’s the end."
She, like her cousin Nyasha, becomes a creature of flux, a hybrid, a person that walks between worlds and cultures without a true home. She can no longer fit in with her kin at the village; her intellect has gone beyond that. But, she cannot fit into the white man’s world because she is black. She is too white to be black, and to black to be white. Franz Fanon’s (Black Skins, White Masks) arguments become thematic here; he argued that to accept the white man’s culture is to allow the African heritage to be destroyed. It, in essence, leaves the black man wearing a white mask.
As well as being a black person, Tambu is also a woman in an incredibly misogynistic society. She has to deal with the dominating nature of the patriarchal culture, and the oppression associated with it. So, life for Tambu is rather shit because everyone treats her like shit.
Here’s some terrible advice she receives when she is young:
"Can you cook books and feed them to your husband? Stay at home with your mother. Learn to cook and clean. Grow vegetables."
This is such a strong story with such a strong message. In essence it’s a response to Achebe’s Things Fall Apart which is a response to Conrad’s Heart of Darkness. So, that’s lots of responses! What the author is trying to portray, in a persuasive and compelling manner, is the voice of the colonised female, the voice of her ancestors and the effects on the everyday life of one living in postcolonial Africa. Achebe’s protagonist was incredibly misogynistic; he beats women down. In this, Tambu has a chance to prove her worth in such a male dominated society.
Her awakening does come very late in the novel; it takes her a long time to realise the absurdity of her situation/condition and it does eventually completely change her. The novel is narrated retrospectively, so we do know it’s coming, but it’s still great to see her find her voice and become an empowered women. By the end she develops the will to speak out and stand up for what she believes in. Tambu comes to hate the men of her family; she comes to hate every aspect of her situation: she becomes hardened and convinced not to conform to the white man’s way. She’s still got a lot of prejudice to wade through before the world accepts her, but I feel like she will get there.
"You can't go on all the time being whatever’s necessary. You've got to have some conviction, and I’m convinced I don't want to be anyone’s underdog."
This is a great coming of age story.
July 29, 2018
"Quietly, unobtrusively and extremely fitfully, something in my mind began to assert itself, to question things and refuse to be brainwashed, bringing me to this time when I can set down this story. It was a long process for me, that process of expansion."
Thus ends the novel which started with the narrator's confession that she was not sorry when her brother died. The painful process of expansion which made Tambu's story possible was blocked for many years - blocked by the patriarchal system which provided education for men and exploited women's physical labour at home.
When her brother dies, Tambu is allowed - reluctantly - to take his place. Brainwashed to believe in her own inferiority, she enters the world of education at her godlike, patriarchal uncle's mission school, and she defers to his charismatic omnipotent rule. But as she gets closer to her cousin Nyasha, she realises that there are other ways to perceive the world, once you have a comparison and a choice. And she sees the power of women underneath the rule of ridiculously pompous men. And recognising one's own strength is the first step to shake off injustice:
"The victimisation, I saw, was universal. It didn't depend on poverty, on lack of education or on tradition. It didn't depend on any of the things I had thought it depended on. Men took it everywhere with them. [...] But what I didn't like was the way all the conflicts came back to this question of femaleness. Femaleness as opposed to and inferior to maleness."
Tambu would have been surprised to discover how universal it REALLY is, that conflict she hates. It goes beyond the question of race and colonialism and Christian versus tribe rites. You find it in highly educated, modern and over-privileged families in liberal democracies. - "Men take it everywhere with them."
But of course the situation is extreme if you are a young, sensible and gifted girl in the clashing worlds of Christian bigotry and tribal patriarchy. As a woman, you are barely human. And you have to learn to play your cards well to survive in a society designed for and by men. You have to know which fights to pick, and which ones to drop for your own safety.
Tambu and Nyasha learn to navigate the dominance of maleness and whiteness while they grow up side by side, but it is not without major sacrifices. Tambu has to let go of her broken mother, and force her own way in order to make a change for herself. Nyasha, a hybrid schooled in England, fights for her right to be an equal to men, and almost dies in the process, while taking out the punishment on herself as she develops bulimia and anorexia - only to be told by a white psychiatrist that Africans don't have that kind of illness.
The two girls support each other, with the help of their female relatives, and encourage each other to stay on the path of searching for their own identity, rather than to assimilate with Christian or tribal oppression. In the most difficult times, education is not only a means to reach independence, but also a soothing medicine for repeatedly broken hearts and wills:
"Most importantly, most wonderfully, there was the library, big, bright, walled in glass..."
This novel should be required reading for the #metoo generation. It is as powerful as , but it adds the experience of the hidden world of women. An inspiration on so many levels, I strongly recommend it to the world of today!
Thus ends the novel which started with the narrator's confession that she was not sorry when her brother died. The painful process of expansion which made Tambu's story possible was blocked for many years - blocked by the patriarchal system which provided education for men and exploited women's physical labour at home.
When her brother dies, Tambu is allowed - reluctantly - to take his place. Brainwashed to believe in her own inferiority, she enters the world of education at her godlike, patriarchal uncle's mission school, and she defers to his charismatic omnipotent rule. But as she gets closer to her cousin Nyasha, she realises that there are other ways to perceive the world, once you have a comparison and a choice. And she sees the power of women underneath the rule of ridiculously pompous men. And recognising one's own strength is the first step to shake off injustice:
"The victimisation, I saw, was universal. It didn't depend on poverty, on lack of education or on tradition. It didn't depend on any of the things I had thought it depended on. Men took it everywhere with them. [...] But what I didn't like was the way all the conflicts came back to this question of femaleness. Femaleness as opposed to and inferior to maleness."
Tambu would have been surprised to discover how universal it REALLY is, that conflict she hates. It goes beyond the question of race and colonialism and Christian versus tribe rites. You find it in highly educated, modern and over-privileged families in liberal democracies. - "Men take it everywhere with them."
But of course the situation is extreme if you are a young, sensible and gifted girl in the clashing worlds of Christian bigotry and tribal patriarchy. As a woman, you are barely human. And you have to learn to play your cards well to survive in a society designed for and by men. You have to know which fights to pick, and which ones to drop for your own safety.
Tambu and Nyasha learn to navigate the dominance of maleness and whiteness while they grow up side by side, but it is not without major sacrifices. Tambu has to let go of her broken mother, and force her own way in order to make a change for herself. Nyasha, a hybrid schooled in England, fights for her right to be an equal to men, and almost dies in the process, while taking out the punishment on herself as she develops bulimia and anorexia - only to be told by a white psychiatrist that Africans don't have that kind of illness.
The two girls support each other, with the help of their female relatives, and encourage each other to stay on the path of searching for their own identity, rather than to assimilate with Christian or tribal oppression. In the most difficult times, education is not only a means to reach independence, but also a soothing medicine for repeatedly broken hearts and wills:
"Most importantly, most wonderfully, there was the library, big, bright, walled in glass..."
This novel should be required reading for the #metoo generation. It is as powerful as , but it adds the experience of the hidden world of women. An inspiration on so many levels, I strongly recommend it to the world of today!
April 6, 2021
Quietly, unobtrusively and extremely fitfully, something in my mind began to assert itself, to question things and refuse to be brainwashed, bringing me to this time when I can set down this story. It was a long and painful process for me, that process of expansion. It was a process whose events stretched over many years and would fill another volume, but the story I have told here, is my own story, the story of four women whom I loved, and our men, this story is how it all began.
Such an intelligent and subtle novel which is informed by theory (postcolonial, gender, identity) but which never feels like the theoretical foundations have been shoehorned in. In some ways this is a riff on the classic female coming-of-age story with some of the milestones feeling familiar (first periods, disillusionment with paternal figures, leaving home) but at the same time, Dangarembga shifts the goalposts and makes this uniquely her own.
The Rhodesian background is muted though the noting of key dates such as 1965 at the start invite us to research the troubled history of the country which inflects this story and certainly the psyches of the characters. Gender and patriarchal oppressions are more overt not least in the various rebellions of the narrator, Tambu, and her cousin, Nyasha. Both girls are markedly affected by the internal toxicity of the outer tensions which seek to pressure them into good templates of 'well-behaved' women, partly - though not solely - associated with the Protestant Mission for which Tambu's uncle works.
With the combined effects of race, religion and gender ranged against these girls, with the pressures coming from their families including disappointed and complicit female relatives, it's no big surprise that we finally end in a psychiatrist's office.
Along the way, though, there are scenes of broad comedy as well as violence and joy. This is written vividly and in Tambu we have a voice which is both innocent and knowing as it ranges from then to now, bitter, resistant, and ambitious as she strives to find her self identity amidst all the competing narratives trying to shape her.
October 21, 2020
This book is now widely taught as a modern African classic, so I was interested in reading it to improve my understanding of the third part of the trilogy , which has been shortlisted for this year's Booker prize.
This book covers its narrator Tambu's childhood and teenage years in the Rhodesia of the 1960s. The opening line "I was not sorry when my brother died" is a striking one, and the book gives the context in which it makes sense.
Tambu grows up in a small village where her father just about earns a living growing maize. Her uncle is the headmaster of a mission school in the city of Umtali, and has a postgraduate degree from a British university. Her elder brother attends the mission school, but the family does not believe in educating girls. Tambu has to fight to get any education, and when the brother dies she gets the chance to attend her uncle's school and stay in his house, where she shares a room with her very different and free-spirited cousin Nyasha, who has spent time in Britain and refuses to accept her family's limited expectations. Eventually she gains a scholarship to a largely white Catholic school.
The book is an artful construction which shows a wide range of experiences of ordinary black women in white Rhodesia. Tambu's story is a moving one, and I can see why this book is regarded as a classic.
This book covers its narrator Tambu's childhood and teenage years in the Rhodesia of the 1960s. The opening line "I was not sorry when my brother died" is a striking one, and the book gives the context in which it makes sense.
Tambu grows up in a small village where her father just about earns a living growing maize. Her uncle is the headmaster of a mission school in the city of Umtali, and has a postgraduate degree from a British university. Her elder brother attends the mission school, but the family does not believe in educating girls. Tambu has to fight to get any education, and when the brother dies she gets the chance to attend her uncle's school and stay in his house, where she shares a room with her very different and free-spirited cousin Nyasha, who has spent time in Britain and refuses to accept her family's limited expectations. Eventually she gains a scholarship to a largely white Catholic school.
The book is an artful construction which shows a wide range of experiences of ordinary black women in white Rhodesia. Tambu's story is a moving one, and I can see why this book is regarded as a classic.
October 14, 2022
This book presents an interesting and intelligent depiction of life in Zimbabwe (Rhodesia at the time) . I was entertained throughout and felt immersed in the story and culture.
The issues that are raised in the novel around gender and identity are powerful and important.
‘The victimization, I saw, was universal. It didn't depend on poverty, on lack of education or on tradition. It didn't depend on any of the things I had thought it depended on. Men took it everywhere with them. Even heroes like Babamukuru did it. And that was the problem. . . . all the conflicts came back to this question of femaleness. Femaleness as opposed and inferior to maleness
The issues that are raised in the novel around gender and identity are powerful and important.
‘The victimization, I saw, was universal. It didn't depend on poverty, on lack of education or on tradition. It didn't depend on any of the things I had thought it depended on. Men took it everywhere with them. Even heroes like Babamukuru did it. And that was the problem. . . . all the conflicts came back to this question of femaleness. Femaleness as opposed and inferior to maleness
September 13, 2020
This was voted as one of the best African books of the twentieth century. Written in the late 1980s, it is set in what was then Rhodesia (and is now Zimbabwe) in the 1960s and 1970s. It is actually the first of a trilogy; the third part of which has just been published this year (This Mournable Body, it has been longlisted for the Booker Prize). Dangarembga has also just been arrested for protesting against corruption in Zimbabwe. This novel is partly autobiographical. The title is taken from Sartre’s introduction to Fanon’s The Wretched of the Earth. Colonialism, poverty and gender are the key themes in the novel.
The main protagonist is a young girl called Tambu. She only gets to go to school because her older brother has died. As the male child he was the one to be educated. The opening sentence: “I was not sorry when my brother died�, grabs the attention of the reader. Tambu leaves her own home and parents to live with her uncle Babamukuru and his family at a mission station where she goes to school. Her relationship with her cousin Nyasha is central in showing a different set of issues relating to gender and oppression. Men and women have their place and the novel focusses on the different reactions of the various female characters. The clash of cultures particularly affects Nyasha. She has spent some time in England and is struggling with her African identity and her father’s very traditional concept of what she should be. As she says to Tambu: “I’m not one of them, but I’m not one of you.� Tambu comes to her own conclusions:
“The victimisation, I saw, was universal. It didn’t depend on poverty, on lack on education or on tradition. It didn’t depend on any of the things I had thought it depended on. Men took it everywhere with them. Even heroes like Babamukuru did it. And that was the problem � But was I didn’t like was the way all the conflicts came back to this question of femaleness. Femaleness as opposed and inferior to maleness.�
Tambu’s mother sees things in a different way and resents the way her children are taken from her to be educated and are not available to help with the housework and crops:
“And these days it is worse, with the poverty of blackness on one side and the weight of womanhood on the other. Aiwa! What will help you, my child, is to learn to carry your burdens with strength.�
Tambu herself does well at her studies and wins a scholarship to a mostly white college run by nuns:
“For was I � I Tambudzai, lately of the mission and before that the homestead � was I Tambudzai, so recently a peasant, was I not entering, as I had promised myself I would, a world where burdens lightened with every step, soon to disappear altogether? I had an idea that this would happen as I passed through the school gates, those gates that would declare me a young lady, a member of the Young Ladies College of the Sacred Heart. I was impatient to get to those gates.�
Although at the very end of the novel Tambu is reassessing her views:
“For I was beginning to have a suspicion, no more than the seed of a suspicion, that I had been too eager to leave the homestead and embrace the ‘Englishness� of the mission; and after that the more concentrated ‘Englishness� of Sacred Heart. The suspicion remained for a few days, during which time it transformed itself into guilt, and then I had nightmares.�
Nyasha is the one who sees things more clearly as she battles with an eating disorder and rebels against her parents:
“It’s not their fault. They did it to them too. You know they did,� she whispered. ‘To both of them, but especially to him. They put him through it all. But it’s not his fault, he’s good.� Her voice took on a Rhodesian accent. ‘He’s a good boy, a good munt. A bloody good kaffir,� she informed in sneering sarcastic tones. Then she was whispering again. ‘Why do they do it, Tambu,� she hissed bitterly, her face contorting with rage, ‘to me and to you and to him? Do you see what they’ve done? They’ve taken us away.�
This is a very good coming of age story with strong characters, all of whom are well rounded and human with their own faults. The real villains are colonialism and patriarchy. Tambu’s journey is telling and I think I will be reading the rest of the trilogy.
The main protagonist is a young girl called Tambu. She only gets to go to school because her older brother has died. As the male child he was the one to be educated. The opening sentence: “I was not sorry when my brother died�, grabs the attention of the reader. Tambu leaves her own home and parents to live with her uncle Babamukuru and his family at a mission station where she goes to school. Her relationship with her cousin Nyasha is central in showing a different set of issues relating to gender and oppression. Men and women have their place and the novel focusses on the different reactions of the various female characters. The clash of cultures particularly affects Nyasha. She has spent some time in England and is struggling with her African identity and her father’s very traditional concept of what she should be. As she says to Tambu: “I’m not one of them, but I’m not one of you.� Tambu comes to her own conclusions:
“The victimisation, I saw, was universal. It didn’t depend on poverty, on lack on education or on tradition. It didn’t depend on any of the things I had thought it depended on. Men took it everywhere with them. Even heroes like Babamukuru did it. And that was the problem � But was I didn’t like was the way all the conflicts came back to this question of femaleness. Femaleness as opposed and inferior to maleness.�
Tambu’s mother sees things in a different way and resents the way her children are taken from her to be educated and are not available to help with the housework and crops:
“And these days it is worse, with the poverty of blackness on one side and the weight of womanhood on the other. Aiwa! What will help you, my child, is to learn to carry your burdens with strength.�
Tambu herself does well at her studies and wins a scholarship to a mostly white college run by nuns:
“For was I � I Tambudzai, lately of the mission and before that the homestead � was I Tambudzai, so recently a peasant, was I not entering, as I had promised myself I would, a world where burdens lightened with every step, soon to disappear altogether? I had an idea that this would happen as I passed through the school gates, those gates that would declare me a young lady, a member of the Young Ladies College of the Sacred Heart. I was impatient to get to those gates.�
Although at the very end of the novel Tambu is reassessing her views:
“For I was beginning to have a suspicion, no more than the seed of a suspicion, that I had been too eager to leave the homestead and embrace the ‘Englishness� of the mission; and after that the more concentrated ‘Englishness� of Sacred Heart. The suspicion remained for a few days, during which time it transformed itself into guilt, and then I had nightmares.�
Nyasha is the one who sees things more clearly as she battles with an eating disorder and rebels against her parents:
“It’s not their fault. They did it to them too. You know they did,� she whispered. ‘To both of them, but especially to him. They put him through it all. But it’s not his fault, he’s good.� Her voice took on a Rhodesian accent. ‘He’s a good boy, a good munt. A bloody good kaffir,� she informed in sneering sarcastic tones. Then she was whispering again. ‘Why do they do it, Tambu,� she hissed bitterly, her face contorting with rage, ‘to me and to you and to him? Do you see what they’ve done? They’ve taken us away.�
This is a very good coming of age story with strong characters, all of whom are well rounded and human with their own faults. The real villains are colonialism and patriarchy. Tambu’s journey is telling and I think I will be reading the rest of the trilogy.
November 6, 2020
I had the pleasure to put some questions to the author on BBC Radio 4 Front Row in October. The recording covers my question on the first line of her latest novel (at 17:20-19:05).
I read this book due to it being the first of a trilogy, the third of which “This Mournable Body� is now shortlisted for the 2020 Booker Prize. I must confess it is not a novel I had heard of previously but I found it a fascinating story � with our first person narrator growing up in late 60s/early 70s (Southern) Rhodesia in the post UDI period.
There are plenty of detailed summaries of the plot and academic studies and essays on the book which explain and discuss it much better than I could manage,
But a few thoughts:
The opening line “I was not sorry when my brother died. Nor am I apologising for my callousness, as you may define it, my lack of feeling� reminded me of one of the other Booker longlisted books “Burnt Sugar� (another post-colonial novel in some ways) and its “I would be lying if I said my mother’s misery has never given me pleasure�
Interestingly if anything that mother-daughter situation is reversed here: Tambu's mother could probably say "my daughter's pleasure/success has never given me anything other than misery/jealousy": her mother not even trying to hide her disdain for Tambu's embrace of Western education and (as she sees it) rejection of her family and tribal tradition.
I found the character of Nyasha fascinating and how the same Anglicisation which leads her to largely reject Shona for English and chafe against the traditional tribal culture of deference, patriarchy and family relations also leads her to a pro-African/anti-colonialism position. Her Western exposure to diet and body shape (in 1960s Britain) also seems a factor in her eating disorders � and I think Nyasha herself is the victim of the Nervous Condition of the native under the burden of colonialism which gives the book its title (from Sartre’s introduction to Frantz Fanon's The Wretched of the Earth - ”The status of “native� is a nervous condition introduced and maintained by the settler among colonised people with their consent’�). Although interestingly one already gets the idea that it will be Tambu who suffers the longer lasting consequences in later books.
I found it fascinating how over time Tambu realises that she is at the intersection of black, female, and poor “the poverty of blackness on one side and the weight of womanhood on the other� (an intersection which normally implies uneducated but which she has the rare opportunity to break from) � and that at different times, different aspects of this come to the fore.
At first she is convinced the issue is poverty:
Then for much of the book being female (and a victim of patriarchy) - starting with her brother's attitude (and hence her lack of mourning)
In both cases though she sees education as the real issue and through a combination of effort, fortune (her brother's demise), her Uncle's family obligations, academic prowess and charity: she achieves a place at the country's leading school: a mixed-race convent with its segregated dorms, and where we (but perhaps not her) sense that race will be the real limiting factor.
Overall I can see why this book is regarded as a classic of African literature and I look forward to exploring the rest of the trilogy.
For though the event of my brother’s passing and the events of my story cannot be separated, my story is not after all about death, but about my escape and Lucia’s; about my mother’s and Maiguru’s entrapment; and about Nyasha’s rebellion - Nyasha, far-minded and isolated, my uncle’s daughter, whose rebellion may not in the end have been successful. I was thirteen years old when my brother died. It happened in 1968.
I read this book due to it being the first of a trilogy, the third of which “This Mournable Body� is now shortlisted for the 2020 Booker Prize. I must confess it is not a novel I had heard of previously but I found it a fascinating story � with our first person narrator growing up in late 60s/early 70s (Southern) Rhodesia in the post UDI period.
There are plenty of detailed summaries of the plot and academic studies and essays on the book which explain and discuss it much better than I could manage,
But a few thoughts:
The opening line “I was not sorry when my brother died. Nor am I apologising for my callousness, as you may define it, my lack of feeling� reminded me of one of the other Booker longlisted books “Burnt Sugar� (another post-colonial novel in some ways) and its “I would be lying if I said my mother’s misery has never given me pleasure�
Interestingly if anything that mother-daughter situation is reversed here: Tambu's mother could probably say "my daughter's pleasure/success has never given me anything other than misery/jealousy": her mother not even trying to hide her disdain for Tambu's embrace of Western education and (as she sees it) rejection of her family and tribal tradition.
I found the character of Nyasha fascinating and how the same Anglicisation which leads her to largely reject Shona for English and chafe against the traditional tribal culture of deference, patriarchy and family relations also leads her to a pro-African/anti-colonialism position. Her Western exposure to diet and body shape (in 1960s Britain) also seems a factor in her eating disorders � and I think Nyasha herself is the victim of the Nervous Condition of the native under the burden of colonialism which gives the book its title (from Sartre’s introduction to Frantz Fanon's The Wretched of the Earth - ”The status of “native� is a nervous condition introduced and maintained by the settler among colonised people with their consent’�). Although interestingly one already gets the idea that it will be Tambu who suffers the longer lasting consequences in later books.
I found it fascinating how over time Tambu realises that she is at the intersection of black, female, and poor “the poverty of blackness on one side and the weight of womanhood on the other� (an intersection which normally implies uneducated but which she has the rare opportunity to break from) � and that at different times, different aspects of this come to the fore.
At first she is convinced the issue is poverty:
My mother said being black was a burden because it made you poor, but Babamukuru was not poor. My mother said being a woman was a burden because you had to bear children and look after them and the husband. But I did not think this was true. Maiguru was well looked after by Babamukuru,
Then for much of the book being female (and a victim of patriarchy) - starting with her brother's attitude (and hence her lack of mourning)
The victimisation, I saw, was universal. It didn’t depend on poverty, on lack of education or on tradition. It didn’t depend on any of the things I had thought it depended on. Men took it everywhere with them.
In both cases though she sees education as the real issue and through a combination of effort, fortune (her brother's demise), her Uncle's family obligations, academic prowess and charity: she achieves a place at the country's leading school: a mixed-race convent with its segregated dorms, and where we (but perhaps not her) sense that race will be the real limiting factor.
Overall I can see why this book is regarded as a classic of African literature and I look forward to exploring the rest of the trilogy.
Quietly, unobtrusively and extremely fitfully, something in my mind began to assert itself, to question things and refuse to be brainwashed, bringing me to this time when I can set down this story. It was a long and painful process for me, that process of expansion. It was a process whose events stretched over many years and would fill another volume, but the story I have told here, is my own story, the story of four women whom I loved, and our men, this story is how it all began.
October 9, 2023
We first meet Tambudzai, or Tambu as she is more commonly called, as she talks about her brother.
I was not sorry when my brother died. Nor am I
apologising for my callousness, my lack of feeling.
For it is not that at all. I feel many things these days,
much more than I was able to feel in the days when I
was young and my brother died, and there are
reasons for this more than the mere consequences
of age. (p 1)
From this opening, introducing us to thirteen year old Tambu, we enter the world of a young girl on the brink of becoming a young woman in a patriarchal African society of the late 1960s, not far removed from colonial times, where she and all of the women around her nervously await the decisions of the highest male in the family as to their future. For Tambu wants to go to school. But her older brother, her only brother will be the one educated for she is, after all female.
Thus part of the meaning of the opening sentence. Would she now have a chance?
Tambu speaks to the reader of all she encounters at home in the run-down homestead, of her dreams of an education at the Mission School, the reality of her extended family as she begins to understand the hierarchical structures around her and where she fits -- or doesn't. The family patriarch, her uncle, seems god-like to her, with his English education and degrees and power at the school. He is the family decision maker.
Life is full of questions that can't be asked and answers that are elusive. All Tambu knows is that she loves learning and striving for something beyond what she has had. And as she slowly grasps more and more understanding of her place, she sees that she is just one of the many women she knows who are struggling with life, that the usual goals of a little learning and early marriage are not her goals.
How can I describe the sensations that swamped
me when Babamukuru started his car, with me in the
front seat beside him, on the day I left home? It was
relief, but more than that. It was more than excitement
and anticipation. What I experienced that day was a
short cut, a rerouting of everything I had ever defined
as me into fast lanes that would speedily lead me to
my destination... There was no room for what I left
behind. My father, as affably, shallowly agreeable as
ever, was insignificant. My mother, my anxious
mother, was no more than another piece of surplus
scenery to be maintained, of course to be maintained,
but all the same superfluous, an obstacle in the
path of my departure. (p 58)
Tambu is ready to leave it all behind for the shining world ahead. But this new world holds a multitude of everyday complexities that add to her nervousness,
'Sit down, my child,' invited Babamukuru cordially
as I tiptoed into the living-room. Actually, I walked in
normally, placing my whole foot on the floor, but it felt
like tiptoeing, so respectful was my gait. 'On the seat,
my child, on the seat,' he added, as I sank humbly to the
carpet in the corner next to the doorway...
I stood up, but hesitated, not knowing where to sit. It
was a complex problem. Babamukuru was sitting in his
armchair...while Maiguru sat at one end of the sofa.
There was room on the sofa between Maiguru and
Babmukuru's chair, as well as an unoccupied armchair
beside Babamukuru, but I could not take those seats
since it would not do to sit so disrespectfully close to
my uncle. (p 87)
Thankfully there was another chair! The levels of behavior Tambu worked to maintain every day were part of the general "nervous condition" that builds, higher in some than in others. Some women are seen striving for independence in small, individual ways while others may break under an unrelenting system. She slowly begins to see that women around her, even the highly educated Maiguru, lose out in this system.
'Your uncle wouldn't be able to do half the things
he does if I didn't work as well!'
'You must earn a lot of money,' I breathed in awe.
My aunt laughed and said she never received her
salary. I was aghast.
'What happens to your money? ...The money that
you earn. Does the government take it?'
'You could say that,' my aunt laughed, forcing
herself to be merry again but not succeeding.
...'What it is...to have to choose between self and
security. When I was in England I glimpsed for a
little while the things I could have been, the things
I could have done if-if-if things were-different-
But there was Babawa Chido and the children and
the family... As for me, no one even thinks about the
things I gave up.' (p 103)
Tambu is observing relationships and realities, especially that between men and women, and coming to the realization that women all around her, and herself included, were victims of the male's assumed superiority.
The victimisation, I saw, was universal. It didn't
depend on poverty, on lack of education or on
tradition. It didn't depend on any of the things I
had thought it depended on. Men took it everywhere
with them. Even heroes like Babamukuru did it. And
that was the problem. ...what I didn't like was the
way all the conflicts came back to this question of
femaleness. Femaleness as opposed and inferior
to maleness. (p 118)
This is an exciting book to read, and an important book too, highlighting as it does important social issues of a country I wish to understand better while also dealing with human issues that affect us all. Using the coming-of-age form, Dangarembga has created a novel that reveals, teaches and inspires. It has become a classic in Africa and really should be more well known world wide.
Initially rated 4 to 4.5* but now, after thinking more about the book as I wrote, I am changing the rating to 5.
I was not sorry when my brother died. Nor am I
apologising for my callousness, my lack of feeling.
For it is not that at all. I feel many things these days,
much more than I was able to feel in the days when I
was young and my brother died, and there are
reasons for this more than the mere consequences
of age. (p 1)
From this opening, introducing us to thirteen year old Tambu, we enter the world of a young girl on the brink of becoming a young woman in a patriarchal African society of the late 1960s, not far removed from colonial times, where she and all of the women around her nervously await the decisions of the highest male in the family as to their future. For Tambu wants to go to school. But her older brother, her only brother will be the one educated for she is, after all female.
Thus part of the meaning of the opening sentence. Would she now have a chance?
Tambu speaks to the reader of all she encounters at home in the run-down homestead, of her dreams of an education at the Mission School, the reality of her extended family as she begins to understand the hierarchical structures around her and where she fits -- or doesn't. The family patriarch, her uncle, seems god-like to her, with his English education and degrees and power at the school. He is the family decision maker.
Life is full of questions that can't be asked and answers that are elusive. All Tambu knows is that she loves learning and striving for something beyond what she has had. And as she slowly grasps more and more understanding of her place, she sees that she is just one of the many women she knows who are struggling with life, that the usual goals of a little learning and early marriage are not her goals.
How can I describe the sensations that swamped
me when Babamukuru started his car, with me in the
front seat beside him, on the day I left home? It was
relief, but more than that. It was more than excitement
and anticipation. What I experienced that day was a
short cut, a rerouting of everything I had ever defined
as me into fast lanes that would speedily lead me to
my destination... There was no room for what I left
behind. My father, as affably, shallowly agreeable as
ever, was insignificant. My mother, my anxious
mother, was no more than another piece of surplus
scenery to be maintained, of course to be maintained,
but all the same superfluous, an obstacle in the
path of my departure. (p 58)
Tambu is ready to leave it all behind for the shining world ahead. But this new world holds a multitude of everyday complexities that add to her nervousness,
'Sit down, my child,' invited Babamukuru cordially
as I tiptoed into the living-room. Actually, I walked in
normally, placing my whole foot on the floor, but it felt
like tiptoeing, so respectful was my gait. 'On the seat,
my child, on the seat,' he added, as I sank humbly to the
carpet in the corner next to the doorway...
I stood up, but hesitated, not knowing where to sit. It
was a complex problem. Babamukuru was sitting in his
armchair...while Maiguru sat at one end of the sofa.
There was room on the sofa between Maiguru and
Babmukuru's chair, as well as an unoccupied armchair
beside Babamukuru, but I could not take those seats
since it would not do to sit so disrespectfully close to
my uncle. (p 87)
Thankfully there was another chair! The levels of behavior Tambu worked to maintain every day were part of the general "nervous condition" that builds, higher in some than in others. Some women are seen striving for independence in small, individual ways while others may break under an unrelenting system. She slowly begins to see that women around her, even the highly educated Maiguru, lose out in this system.
'Your uncle wouldn't be able to do half the things
he does if I didn't work as well!'
'You must earn a lot of money,' I breathed in awe.
My aunt laughed and said she never received her
salary. I was aghast.
'What happens to your money? ...The money that
you earn. Does the government take it?'
'You could say that,' my aunt laughed, forcing
herself to be merry again but not succeeding.
...'What it is...to have to choose between self and
security. When I was in England I glimpsed for a
little while the things I could have been, the things
I could have done if-if-if things were-different-
But there was Babawa Chido and the children and
the family... As for me, no one even thinks about the
things I gave up.' (p 103)
Tambu is observing relationships and realities, especially that between men and women, and coming to the realization that women all around her, and herself included, were victims of the male's assumed superiority.
The victimisation, I saw, was universal. It didn't
depend on poverty, on lack of education or on
tradition. It didn't depend on any of the things I
had thought it depended on. Men took it everywhere
with them. Even heroes like Babamukuru did it. And
that was the problem. ...what I didn't like was the
way all the conflicts came back to this question of
femaleness. Femaleness as opposed and inferior
to maleness. (p 118)
This is an exciting book to read, and an important book too, highlighting as it does important social issues of a country I wish to understand better while also dealing with human issues that affect us all. Using the coming-of-age form, Dangarembga has created a novel that reveals, teaches and inspires. It has become a classic in Africa and really should be more well known world wide.
Initially rated 4 to 4.5* but now, after thinking more about the book as I wrote, I am changing the rating to 5.
January 27, 2023
� Nervous Conditions � is a coming of age story that broadens into a socio- political examination sprinkled with wry observational acumen.The story is told through the first person perspective of the protagonist Tambudazi. She speaks in a retrospective voice, recounting her life from thirteen years old through her emergence as an adult. This perspective creates a combination of both immediate and omniscient viewpoints that merge teenage and adult feelings. The novel is populated with well drawn characters and is set in Rhodesia( now Zimbabwe ) in the 1960s. The emotional core of the novel centers around Tambudazi(Tambu) and her cousin Nyasha as they develop from youth to more evolved young women.The cousins come from different socioeconomic backgrounds.As their lives intersect, we are privy to their differing reactions to growing up in a colonized country. Their contrasting life arcs portray a spectrum of challenges inherent in a country that has a foreign culture superimposed onto indigenous norms.
Tambu is a child of poverty who lives in a small rural village devoid of modern conveniences and seeped in non Western culture and value systems. By comparison, Nyasha is a child of privilege, having lived in England while her parents pursued university degrees. Once the parental studies were complete, the family returned to Rhodesia and Nyasha’s father became headmaster of a mission school.
Tambu has been raised in a tradition of deference to family and subservience to patriarchy. She views Western education as the means to liberate her from the convergence of race, gender and poverty that she encounters in her village. Nyasha, on the other hand, has access to the privileges that Tambu desires. However, having lived in England renders her unable to reconcile her experiences in England with her realities in Rhodesia.Consequently, she bristles against the traditional patriarchal system while simultaneously adopting an aggressively anti colonial stance.
Their lives intertwine when Tambu is able to join Nyasha and attend her uncle’s missionary school.The young women’s shared experiences and differing reactions to their circumstances become a discourse focusing on the political, cultural and gender realities prevalent in many non Western societies. As they each mature, their perspectives take on new shadings that add depth and complexity to the conundrum of navigating the social and emotional landscape looming in front of them.
The roles of patriarchy, colonialism and the psychological costs of balancing African tradition and Western incursion reverberate throughout the novel.Both Tambu’s and Nyasha’s families bear burdens arising from these cultural conflicts. At one point, in the face of adversity, Tambu’s mother encapsulates her misgivings by ruminating that…� It’s the Englishness. It’ll kill them all if they aren’t careful.� Clearly, these dire words could certainly lead to a nervous condition and foretell the trepidation laden in the colonized experience. The novel’s combination of coming of age wonder and political angst is beautifully balanced and leaves the reader with much to ponder.
Tambu is a child of poverty who lives in a small rural village devoid of modern conveniences and seeped in non Western culture and value systems. By comparison, Nyasha is a child of privilege, having lived in England while her parents pursued university degrees. Once the parental studies were complete, the family returned to Rhodesia and Nyasha’s father became headmaster of a mission school.
Tambu has been raised in a tradition of deference to family and subservience to patriarchy. She views Western education as the means to liberate her from the convergence of race, gender and poverty that she encounters in her village. Nyasha, on the other hand, has access to the privileges that Tambu desires. However, having lived in England renders her unable to reconcile her experiences in England with her realities in Rhodesia.Consequently, she bristles against the traditional patriarchal system while simultaneously adopting an aggressively anti colonial stance.
Their lives intertwine when Tambu is able to join Nyasha and attend her uncle’s missionary school.The young women’s shared experiences and differing reactions to their circumstances become a discourse focusing on the political, cultural and gender realities prevalent in many non Western societies. As they each mature, their perspectives take on new shadings that add depth and complexity to the conundrum of navigating the social and emotional landscape looming in front of them.
The roles of patriarchy, colonialism and the psychological costs of balancing African tradition and Western incursion reverberate throughout the novel.Both Tambu’s and Nyasha’s families bear burdens arising from these cultural conflicts. At one point, in the face of adversity, Tambu’s mother encapsulates her misgivings by ruminating that…� It’s the Englishness. It’ll kill them all if they aren’t careful.� Clearly, these dire words could certainly lead to a nervous condition and foretell the trepidation laden in the colonized experience. The novel’s combination of coming of age wonder and political angst is beautifully balanced and leaves the reader with much to ponder.
December 24, 2018
It uses the old method popular among novelists of highlighting the prevalent social injustice and conditions through a shocking event - you know how Medea's killing her children reflected on patriarchy of her time, when 'Beloved's heroine kills her child it reflected on slavery. Camus' Outsider's narrator failed to feel any grief for his mother's loss - reflecting the way how people are unable to feel a sense of belonging to our surroundings and so on, Before I had read Phaedra I thought her incestual intentions reflected on the unjust assumption where a woman expected to remain happily married to a man twice her age and take a man her own age as her stepson. Here the event disclosed in the very first sentence is narrator's (then a little girl) inability to feel any remorse on the accidental death of her brother and reflects on unequal treatment of girl and boy child.
One of the first African feminist novels - what at first seems like a coming of age novel of a girl in Zimbawe expands to contain stories of other women around her. At one point, the narrator points how the women are unable to react to a situation as they wish to and feel morally obliged to because the identity that the society and culture have imposed on them (and which they have come to completely identify themselves with) expects them to stay silent.
It is unfortunate indeed to think of families where only one child would be able to get the education - but to resist a better life style choice just because it seems western culture ... To be honest, I'm not a big fan of those words - 'culture' and 'identity'; the only purpose they seem to serve is to confuse people and make them avoiding taking choices which will help them to live their lives to fullest. I think it is foolish not to make a life style choice just because the community you identify with doesn't normally make such choice or its members aren't allowed to.
And culture - except for really first civilizations (bronze age-iron age); great civilizations that were also really productive in sciences and arts have only shown up only in places where people have been willing to learn from different cultures. Romans were willing to learn Greek Philosophies, Ottoman empire learned sciences and philosophies both from Romans and Indians, Mughals at their best (Akbar, Shah Jahan, Jahangir) had artists from every living culture in their courtrooms, renaissance artists were willing to adopt dead civilizations and gods of Greece. Even colonial empires were in time of their rise translating literature of their colonies. Russia's great literary periods were at best when authors like Dostoevsky and Tolstoy were studying ideas from around the world and ended slowly when they raised the Iron curtain. USA's first became world power when it was willing to accept migrants from around the world. More recently, the Latin American literary boom was the result of works by authors who refuse to limit their inspirations to Latin America. It thus seems foolish to denounce something just because it wasn't first created or done in the country.
Okay now some ramblings on India - there is nothing more about the book itself.
The problem of these confusing words is particularly relevant to India - where there is always a talk of saving Aryan, Hindu and Indian culture. There is a fallacious reasoning that just because something is being done for centuries, we should continue to do it. Another very stupid belief is older is somehow better. So Vedas are superior because they come earlier than other books and culture; being first ancestors they deserve to be followed. But if you go along this chain of reasoning - we should rather be living on trees because we lived on trees even before we wrote books and monkeys are our real ancestors. Also, think of it, the practise of Sati was defended on cultural reasons. IMO, culture should not be thought of as a guide to direct our future but in terms of footsteps left behind by society.
Moreover, all this talk about saving culture is always raised when it is a question of maintaining some sort of maintaining some sort of injustice - typical examples include the protests against reservations for SC/ST when they were first made, protests against Hindu marriage act because it divided property equally between all heirs (rather than merely male heirs) and legalized divorces and now there are similar protests against a similar reform law for Muslims.
Same thing with those goon attacks on pubs. Have you ever wondered what part of pub-culture is not Indian? A pub is just a public drinking place and such public drinking places were always there in India. What are called pubs are merely more fashionable. It isn't drinking itself these culture-protectionists are against or they would have attacked alcohol factories. It is not men getting drunk or getting drunk in public they are against - again those things that has always been done in India. You might for once think their problem is presence women at those places but wrong- the problem is not the fact of the presence of women itself but who those women are. You see these goons maintain a list of actions that a good man can do but good women can't. And so ... okay, this lecture just got boring and I feel sleepy
One of the first African feminist novels - what at first seems like a coming of age novel of a girl in Zimbawe expands to contain stories of other women around her. At one point, the narrator points how the women are unable to react to a situation as they wish to and feel morally obliged to because the identity that the society and culture have imposed on them (and which they have come to completely identify themselves with) expects them to stay silent.
It is unfortunate indeed to think of families where only one child would be able to get the education - but to resist a better life style choice just because it seems western culture ... To be honest, I'm not a big fan of those words - 'culture' and 'identity'; the only purpose they seem to serve is to confuse people and make them avoiding taking choices which will help them to live their lives to fullest. I think it is foolish not to make a life style choice just because the community you identify with doesn't normally make such choice or its members aren't allowed to.
And culture - except for really first civilizations (bronze age-iron age); great civilizations that were also really productive in sciences and arts have only shown up only in places where people have been willing to learn from different cultures. Romans were willing to learn Greek Philosophies, Ottoman empire learned sciences and philosophies both from Romans and Indians, Mughals at their best (Akbar, Shah Jahan, Jahangir) had artists from every living culture in their courtrooms, renaissance artists were willing to adopt dead civilizations and gods of Greece. Even colonial empires were in time of their rise translating literature of their colonies. Russia's great literary periods were at best when authors like Dostoevsky and Tolstoy were studying ideas from around the world and ended slowly when they raised the Iron curtain. USA's first became world power when it was willing to accept migrants from around the world. More recently, the Latin American literary boom was the result of works by authors who refuse to limit their inspirations to Latin America. It thus seems foolish to denounce something just because it wasn't first created or done in the country.
Okay now some ramblings on India - there is nothing more about the book itself.
The problem of these confusing words is particularly relevant to India - where there is always a talk of saving Aryan, Hindu and Indian culture. There is a fallacious reasoning that just because something is being done for centuries, we should continue to do it. Another very stupid belief is older is somehow better. So Vedas are superior because they come earlier than other books and culture; being first ancestors they deserve to be followed. But if you go along this chain of reasoning - we should rather be living on trees because we lived on trees even before we wrote books and monkeys are our real ancestors. Also, think of it, the practise of Sati was defended on cultural reasons. IMO, culture should not be thought of as a guide to direct our future but in terms of footsteps left behind by society.
Moreover, all this talk about saving culture is always raised when it is a question of maintaining some sort of maintaining some sort of injustice - typical examples include the protests against reservations for SC/ST when they were first made, protests against Hindu marriage act because it divided property equally between all heirs (rather than merely male heirs) and legalized divorces and now there are similar protests against a similar reform law for Muslims.
Same thing with those goon attacks on pubs. Have you ever wondered what part of pub-culture is not Indian? A pub is just a public drinking place and such public drinking places were always there in India. What are called pubs are merely more fashionable. It isn't drinking itself these culture-protectionists are against or they would have attacked alcohol factories. It is not men getting drunk or getting drunk in public they are against - again those things that has always been done in India. You might for once think their problem is presence women at those places but wrong- the problem is not the fact of the presence of women itself but who those women are. You see these goons maintain a list of actions that a good man can do but good women can't. And so ... okay, this lecture just got boring and I feel sleepy
January 5, 2021
I liked this book but didn't fall in love with it. It's a story of poverty and gender, a story of how colonialism shaped the material conditions of life for the majority of the black population in what was formerly Rhodesia (and now Zimbabwe) and defined the extremely limited opportunities for upward mobility. The book tells the story of Tambu, a young girl whose older brother is invited to go to school at a missionary while she has to stay at home and help with household chores as well as work in the fields. Tambu is an extremely likeable character: she is intelligent, socially adept, hard-working, enterprising and determined to forge a better life for herself. When her brother dies of mumps and she's invited to the missionary to take his place, she seizes the opportunity with both hands. How she will experience life at a time of profound cultural change is the topic of this book. My only qualm is that I found the writing somewhat flat and couldn't form a connection with the main character despite Tambu's likeableness -- but I'm sure this is not the book's failing, so I wouldn't want to dissuade anyone from reading it.
August 30, 2020
I'd never even heard of this book, although it is an acknowledged classic of African lit, until the final volume of the trilogy of which this is the first part, was nominated for this year's Booker Prize. Since that final volume has NOT been universally loved, I debated whether I wanted to spend the time to read the first two books - but am glad I decided in the affirmative, as this was an unexpected delight. [Since I had determined that I would ALSO have to read all three of Mantel's Cromwell trilogy too, it felt like tacit racism to deny this author the same courtesy/respect.]
I have not always gotten along well with other of the African Booker nominees (Bulawayo, Obioma) since I often found it difficult to relate to cultures and experiences so far afield of my own; although that is also operative here, there is something universal in Dangarembga's writing and characters that helped me surmount that problem. The book is surprisingly immersive, quick-paced and somewhat Dickensian in its depiction of a young Rhodesian girl attempting to overcome the triple handicaps of being female, black and poor (the book takes place in the late 60's, so the country was not yet Zimbabwe). One roots for Tambu to overcome these obstacles, and I'm eager to see where her journey takes her in volume 2 and 3. My main complaint is the lack of a glossary and character list in this first volume - but that has been taken care of in book two.
I have not always gotten along well with other of the African Booker nominees (Bulawayo, Obioma) since I often found it difficult to relate to cultures and experiences so far afield of my own; although that is also operative here, there is something universal in Dangarembga's writing and characters that helped me surmount that problem. The book is surprisingly immersive, quick-paced and somewhat Dickensian in its depiction of a young Rhodesian girl attempting to overcome the triple handicaps of being female, black and poor (the book takes place in the late 60's, so the country was not yet Zimbabwe). One roots for Tambu to overcome these obstacles, and I'm eager to see where her journey takes her in volume 2 and 3. My main complaint is the lack of a glossary and character list in this first volume - but that has been taken care of in book two.
October 28, 2016
"This is the novel we have been waiting for," said Doris Lessing. "I am sure it will be a classic." And it is: it ranks on the ASC's What Lessing was waiting for was feminism, and to call this Things Fall Apart for girls is a simplification but it'll do if you need to describe it in five words.
Like Achebe's classic, Nervous Conditions (1988, set in 1968) is about the conflux between African society and white interference. Its two main characters - narrator Tambu and her cousin Nyasha - react to it in different ways, Tambu going with it and Nyasha resisting. "You can't go in all the time being whatever's necessary," Nyasha tells Tabu. "You've got to have some conviction, and I'm convinced I don't want to be anyone's underdog." Somewhat in the background, Nyasha's mother Maiguru () and Tambu's aunt Lucia fight their own battles. Nyasha's father Babamukuru plays (very loosely) Okonkwo the patriarch.
These are all complicated, subtle characters. Dangarembga shows their negotiations carefully and skillfully. It's an easy and engaging read, and it also makes its points. I loved it, and I think Doris Lessing is right. It's a brilliant novel.
It ends by promising you a sequel, which Dangarembga (pronounced phonetically) finally delivered in 2006. In the meantime, she became the first black Zimabwean woman to direct a feature film, 1996's
Like Achebe's classic, Nervous Conditions (1988, set in 1968) is about the conflux between African society and white interference. Its two main characters - narrator Tambu and her cousin Nyasha - react to it in different ways, Tambu going with it and Nyasha resisting. "You can't go in all the time being whatever's necessary," Nyasha tells Tabu. "You've got to have some conviction, and I'm convinced I don't want to be anyone's underdog." Somewhat in the background, Nyasha's mother Maiguru () and Tambu's aunt Lucia fight their own battles. Nyasha's father Babamukuru plays (very loosely) Okonkwo the patriarch.
These are all complicated, subtle characters. Dangarembga shows their negotiations carefully and skillfully. It's an easy and engaging read, and it also makes its points. I loved it, and I think Doris Lessing is right. It's a brilliant novel.
It ends by promising you a sequel, which Dangarembga (pronounced phonetically) finally delivered in 2006. In the meantime, she became the first black Zimabwean woman to direct a feature film, 1996's
March 10, 2016
This book takes its title and epigraph from an introduction to , which I've been reading slowly for several weeks. It was really wonderful to read this, partly as an illustration of some of Fanon's ideas, and more as a female perspective that answers and critiques Fanon's highly male-centric account of the colonised subject.
But forget every other book and every other author � from the incendiary opening sentence to the fraught and nervous close, this story held me heart and soul. 14 year old Tambudzai is my ideal narrator, sharp, sensible, caring, social and respectful but independent of mind, naïve but quick to learn, occasionally daunted or overshadowed, but considered in her responses. Despite the ominous and shocking beginning, she emerges in contrast to her brother as a sympathetic character; unlike him, she values her local community and natural environment, and works hard on the farm and in the house with her parents and siblings, the poorest branch of the extended family. She is thoughtful towards her mother, appreciative of her helpful younger sister, caring for the toddler. Her academic talents are equal to her strong motivation to become educated like her wealthier uncle and aunt, but circumstances and family members initially thwart her ambitions.
If this sounds like other coming-of-age tales, then maybe it is, but aside from being movingly and believeably told, it's rich in on-point analysis and insight, never spelled out but always elegantly demonstrated. For example, Tambu tells at some length, and amusingly, how her brother, Nhamo, 'forgot' how to speak Shona after spending time living with their uncle and studying at the mission school
Tambu's relationship with and admiration for her cousin Nyasha reminded me of and � both of which have a close female friendship in which the less extraordinary one of the pair is the viewpoint character. As I reflected about Wench this is a good strategy for relateability, because admiring a charismatic person is a more familiar experience than being one! Further to this, in the interview at the end of this edition, Tsitsi Dangarembga shares that she chose to tell the story from Tambudzai's viewpoint, rather than that of Nyasha, daughter of that family's most privileged patriarch, so that more people would be able to relate to it, more people in the area of Zimbabwe who live like Tambu.
(This reveals that Tsitsi Dangarembga did not write this novel in or for the white gaze, as Kwame Anthony Appiah also points out in the introduction. Of course, I implacably embody that gaze however much I want (and work?) to abolish whiteness, but I still strongly feel that the story is all the more effective and enjoyable for not being styled for a white audience, even though I didn't always understand the honorifics and everyday Shona words scattered around.)
Nyasha, though materially privileged and extremely intelligent, is in the most literal nervous condition of all. Her early life experience of living in England has made her into a 'hybrid', and she no longer fits in with her family or school friends. She calls her experiences in England 'exposure', which suggests something traumatic and damaging. Her problem is clearly not merely an excess of knowledge and it goes beyond a shift in beliefs � she is in a state of dis-ease with her own self, holding contractory desires that threaten to tear her apart. But Dangarembga does not present the nervous conditions that affect Nyasha and Nhamo as inevitable. Nyasha fights towards a subjecthood she can survive, and while Tambu is grateful for some aspects of Nyasha's guidance, she is able to remain critical of some of her cousin's actions and ideas, and she resists the influences that Nhamo succumbed to. Nyasha's brother Chido also seems to have retained a degree of balance. His explanation of how he got into a pretigious mixed (black and white) school is every bit as acute in its analysis of coloniser-colonised relations as anything in Fanon.
The narrative is thoroughly female-centred, and highly critical of the patriarchal ordering of society. Tambu is furious with her brother for exploiting his power over his sisters to be lazy, for example. Yet the situation is more complex with her aunt, Maiguru,highly educated wife of the rich uncle Mukoma (known to Tambu as Babamukuru). Tambu admires her uncle, her family's head and benefactor, so intensely, that she continually rationalises his treatment of Maiguru to make it seem acceptable and correct. Other women characters extend the range of perspectives, strategies of accommodation or resistance, and complexity of the social fabric that Dangarembga shows us. I think the characterisation is so acute throughout because it's relational, each person comes to life in her or his response and relation to others. In this light Tambu's experience of finding subjectivity, through many separations, is both liberating and unsettling.
But forget every other book and every other author � from the incendiary opening sentence to the fraught and nervous close, this story held me heart and soul. 14 year old Tambudzai is my ideal narrator, sharp, sensible, caring, social and respectful but independent of mind, naïve but quick to learn, occasionally daunted or overshadowed, but considered in her responses. Despite the ominous and shocking beginning, she emerges in contrast to her brother as a sympathetic character; unlike him, she values her local community and natural environment, and works hard on the farm and in the house with her parents and siblings, the poorest branch of the extended family. She is thoughtful towards her mother, appreciative of her helpful younger sister, caring for the toddler. Her academic talents are equal to her strong motivation to become educated like her wealthier uncle and aunt, but circumstances and family members initially thwart her ambitions.
If this sounds like other coming-of-age tales, then maybe it is, but aside from being movingly and believeably told, it's rich in on-point analysis and insight, never spelled out but always elegantly demonstrated. For example, Tambu tells at some length, and amusingly, how her brother, Nhamo, 'forgot' how to speak Shona after spending time living with their uncle and studying at the mission school
A few words escaped haltingly, ungrammatically and strangely accented when he spoke to my mother, but he did not speak to her very often any more. He talked most fluently with my father. They had long conversations in English, which Nhamo broke into small irregular syllables and which my father chopped into smaller and even rougher phonemes. Father was pleased with Nhamo's command of the English language. He said it was the first step in the family's emancipation since we could all improve our language by practising on Nhamo. But he was the only one who was impressed by this inexplicable state my brother had developed. The rest of us spoke to Nhamo in Shona, to which, when he did answer, he answered in English, making a point of speaking slowly, deliberately, enunciating each syllable clearly so that we could understand. This restricted communication to mundane insignificant matters.I have included this lengthy quotation because I wanted to show how subtly Tsitsi Dangarembga uses a passage like this to place each person in relation to the issue at hand � this technique is consistently used to develop characters, relationships, social positions, and the different effects interaction with colonial ideologies has on all of them. Sense of place is developed lovingly yet without lengthy description. Tambu's grounded, benefit-of-hindsight, no-nonsense narration somehow captures every atmosphere perfectly with control of pacing, sentence length, dialogue and emotional commentary. Changes of scene make this carefully constructed ambiance apparent � for example when a teacher takes Tambu to town in his car. The journey, though dreamlike and extraordinary, is atmospherically contiguous with the walk from the homestead to the village, but the town is jarring. The scene in the town, where Tambu encounters white people, made me laugh out loud, so incisively does it expose the whites' ignorance and prejudices.
But the situation was not entirely hopeless. When a significant issue did arise so that it was necessary to discuss matters in depth, Nhamo's Shona � grammar, vocabulary, accent and all � would miraculously return for the duration of the discussion
Tambu's relationship with and admiration for her cousin Nyasha reminded me of and � both of which have a close female friendship in which the less extraordinary one of the pair is the viewpoint character. As I reflected about Wench this is a good strategy for relateability, because admiring a charismatic person is a more familiar experience than being one! Further to this, in the interview at the end of this edition, Tsitsi Dangarembga shares that she chose to tell the story from Tambudzai's viewpoint, rather than that of Nyasha, daughter of that family's most privileged patriarch, so that more people would be able to relate to it, more people in the area of Zimbabwe who live like Tambu.
(This reveals that Tsitsi Dangarembga did not write this novel in or for the white gaze, as Kwame Anthony Appiah also points out in the introduction. Of course, I implacably embody that gaze however much I want (and work?) to abolish whiteness, but I still strongly feel that the story is all the more effective and enjoyable for not being styled for a white audience, even though I didn't always understand the honorifics and everyday Shona words scattered around.)
Nyasha, though materially privileged and extremely intelligent, is in the most literal nervous condition of all. Her early life experience of living in England has made her into a 'hybrid', and she no longer fits in with her family or school friends. She calls her experiences in England 'exposure', which suggests something traumatic and damaging. Her problem is clearly not merely an excess of knowledge and it goes beyond a shift in beliefs � she is in a state of dis-ease with her own self, holding contractory desires that threaten to tear her apart. But Dangarembga does not present the nervous conditions that affect Nyasha and Nhamo as inevitable. Nyasha fights towards a subjecthood she can survive, and while Tambu is grateful for some aspects of Nyasha's guidance, she is able to remain critical of some of her cousin's actions and ideas, and she resists the influences that Nhamo succumbed to. Nyasha's brother Chido also seems to have retained a degree of balance. His explanation of how he got into a pretigious mixed (black and white) school is every bit as acute in its analysis of coloniser-colonised relations as anything in Fanon.
The narrative is thoroughly female-centred, and highly critical of the patriarchal ordering of society. Tambu is furious with her brother for exploiting his power over his sisters to be lazy, for example. Yet the situation is more complex with her aunt, Maiguru,highly educated wife of the rich uncle Mukoma (known to Tambu as Babamukuru). Tambu admires her uncle, her family's head and benefactor, so intensely, that she continually rationalises his treatment of Maiguru to make it seem acceptable and correct. Other women characters extend the range of perspectives, strategies of accommodation or resistance, and complexity of the social fabric that Dangarembga shows us. I think the characterisation is so acute throughout because it's relational, each person comes to life in her or his response and relation to others. In this light Tambu's experience of finding subjectivity, through many separations, is both liberating and unsettling.
January 31, 2016
This is one of those books I went into reading not knowing anything about it, other than Dangarembga is a Zimbabwean author. I've known about the book's existence for a while, have even picked it before; but I have to admit the title itself has always prevented me from reading it. There's not really a good reason for that. But you know how sometimes you're drawn to a certain shirt because the color appeals to your eyes? Or you're turned off by a certain song because there's a chord that really bugs the shit out of you? I have experiences like that with books - something about a title can really work for me and I'll read the shit out of it. Or alternatively a title can strike feel discordant.
This is one of those titles.
I think the word "nervous" in the title makes me... well, nervous. I can be a somewhat anxious person by nature, and more so over the last year or so, and while that's something I'm working on keeping under control, I try not to indulge in things that might make me extra nervous. Like reading a book with the word "nervous" in the title.
Laugh at me if you will, it's okay.
But now that I've read the book, I am so glad I did. The first couple chapters were a bit slow. They were engaging enough to make me want to keep reading, but I wasn't "feeling" the story yet. I feel now that was purposeful. Once I made it through the first couple of chapters, I realized that I, the reader, was growing alongside Tambu, the narrator of this story. This is Tambu's story written years later, reflecting on when she was first 9 years old at the end of the Sixties.
The first sentence packs a punch and I wanted to know more about that and those circumstances, but I have to admit that the resolution of that was anticlimactic and not terribly interesting after all. The real meat of the story is the rest of what happens - Tambu leaving her home and going to live with her uncle and his family in a mission, her relationship with them, with her cousin Nyasha with whom she shares a room at the mission, her relationship with herself and her family back home. It's all very well done and I feel the story-writing only gets stronger as the story progresses.
What I was surprised by was just how little Dangarembga shied away from discussing some really sensitive matters. A lot of stories along these lines (especially of the coming-of-age sort) can sort of sidestep the major issues, or refer to them in a terribly subtle way, letting the reader work things out for themselves. But here Dangarembga holds a mirror up to some serious issues and calls them out for what they are, especially race (and prejudice), colonialism, and feminism.
One of my favorite parts of the book involves a conversation Tambu has early on with her mother about the "burden" of being not only black but also a woman, and this theme carries on throughout the whole story. That early conversation deeply affects Tambu and I wonder now if her mother phrased things the way she did in order to spark a little fire under Tambu's ass so she would be inspired to create a different existence for herself than what was expected of her as an African girl.
The story is powerful, and short. I know there is a sequel though it seems to be even harder to get my paws on than this one was, which is hard to believe since out of all the libraries in Pittsburgh there is literally only one copy of this book. I'm surprised that this isn't required reading in school, particularly in my own education - I would have expected this would have ranked highly on required reading for me in college, but somehow it was not.
I want more people to read this book.
This is one of those titles.
I think the word "nervous" in the title makes me... well, nervous. I can be a somewhat anxious person by nature, and more so over the last year or so, and while that's something I'm working on keeping under control, I try not to indulge in things that might make me extra nervous. Like reading a book with the word "nervous" in the title.
Laugh at me if you will, it's okay.
But now that I've read the book, I am so glad I did. The first couple chapters were a bit slow. They were engaging enough to make me want to keep reading, but I wasn't "feeling" the story yet. I feel now that was purposeful. Once I made it through the first couple of chapters, I realized that I, the reader, was growing alongside Tambu, the narrator of this story. This is Tambu's story written years later, reflecting on when she was first 9 years old at the end of the Sixties.
The first sentence packs a punch and I wanted to know more about that and those circumstances, but I have to admit that the resolution of that was anticlimactic and not terribly interesting after all. The real meat of the story is the rest of what happens - Tambu leaving her home and going to live with her uncle and his family in a mission, her relationship with them, with her cousin Nyasha with whom she shares a room at the mission, her relationship with herself and her family back home. It's all very well done and I feel the story-writing only gets stronger as the story progresses.
What I was surprised by was just how little Dangarembga shied away from discussing some really sensitive matters. A lot of stories along these lines (especially of the coming-of-age sort) can sort of sidestep the major issues, or refer to them in a terribly subtle way, letting the reader work things out for themselves. But here Dangarembga holds a mirror up to some serious issues and calls them out for what they are, especially race (and prejudice), colonialism, and feminism.
One of my favorite parts of the book involves a conversation Tambu has early on with her mother about the "burden" of being not only black but also a woman, and this theme carries on throughout the whole story. That early conversation deeply affects Tambu and I wonder now if her mother phrased things the way she did in order to spark a little fire under Tambu's ass so she would be inspired to create a different existence for herself than what was expected of her as an African girl.
The story is powerful, and short. I know there is a sequel though it seems to be even harder to get my paws on than this one was, which is hard to believe since out of all the libraries in Pittsburgh there is literally only one copy of this book. I'm surprised that this isn't required reading in school, particularly in my own education - I would have expected this would have ranked highly on required reading for me in college, but somehow it was not.
I want more people to read this book.
June 29, 2024
Tambu is between worlds - between childhood and adulthood, between girlhood and womanhood, between the homestead village, where she helps her mother in the kitchen and fields, and her uncle's home where she is being fostered as she attends the mission school where he is principal. She cares for her family but was not sorry her brother died. She worships her uncle Babamukuru, but watches his patriarchal attitudes oppress the women of their extended family. She straddles the traditions of her Rhodesian Shona culture and the white colonial culture and education that will improve their opportunities. How she navigates these competing forces and ways of life as she comes of age gives us a very fine tale.
Tambu's cousin Nyasha is a complex character who acts as a foil to Tambu. They were close as young girls, but when Tambu's uncle takes his family to England for five years for him and his wife to complete their education, Nyasha returns as her own problematic in-between. She calls herself a hybrid--not English, not traditional, and she struggles badly. The cousins become close again and through her cousin Tambu loses some of her naivete and grows in awareness. Nyasha's character arc, the suffering that hospitalizes her, self-induced starvation - symbolizes rejection of life when, unlike Tambu, she can't find a place in her two worlds.
This is the first book in a trilogy, but even so it stands alone well. Thoughtful, evocative of struggles of growing girls in traditional cultures exposed to white hegemony the world over, personal motivation to better one's lot, taking advantage of every opportunity, and wonderfully, appreciating them, makes Tambu's story one to stick with. Dangarembga's voice is one to listen to. A solid 4 and a half stars. I would have appreciated a glossary of Shona words.
Tambu's cousin Nyasha is a complex character who acts as a foil to Tambu. They were close as young girls, but when Tambu's uncle takes his family to England for five years for him and his wife to complete their education, Nyasha returns as her own problematic in-between. She calls herself a hybrid--not English, not traditional, and she struggles badly. The cousins become close again and through her cousin Tambu loses some of her naivete and grows in awareness. Nyasha's character arc, the suffering that hospitalizes her, self-induced starvation - symbolizes rejection of life when, unlike Tambu, she can't find a place in her two worlds.
This is the first book in a trilogy, but even so it stands alone well. Thoughtful, evocative of struggles of growing girls in traditional cultures exposed to white hegemony the world over, personal motivation to better one's lot, taking advantage of every opportunity, and wonderfully, appreciating them, makes Tambu's story one to stick with. Dangarembga's voice is one to listen to. A solid 4 and a half stars. I would have appreciated a glossary of Shona words.
April 11, 2021
is about an extended black family of the former British colony Southern Rhodesia, living in what is today Zimbabwe. The time setting is the 1960s into 1970, before independence. The political turmoil is not part of the plot, yet the family’s ties to England and South Africa pop up.
The central figure and the narrator of the story is Tambudzai Sigauke, Tambu for short. Telling the story now as an adult, she looks back to when she was fourteen. Her paternal uncle Babamukuru is a patriarchal and authoritative figure, the leader of the family and the headmaster of a Protestant mission school. He values education above all else. It is the means by which the family’s standing will be elevated. He expects obedience and respect from all members of the extended family. He is guided by duty, but he is NOT kind or loving.
Tambu, with the death of her elder brother, takes his place at their uncle’s mission school. We follow her trajectory for two years.
Attention is focused upon four women of the family—Tambu, her mother (Ma’Shingayi), her aunt (Maiguru) who is the wife of Babamukuru, and this aunt and uncle’s daughter (Nyasha). How do these and the other women of the tale relate to, cope with, fail to cope with and / or retaliate against Babamukuru’s heavy hand and chauvinism so prevalent in society?
Of course, a high level of education is valuable. Of course, experiencing an elevated lifestyle broadens one’s horizons and improves one’s prospects. However, both can have deleterious consequences on a personal level. Being different costs! Being different is not the road to popularity! Few had a good education, traveled abroad or lived so well as those at the mission.
When improving one’s lot in life, our roots must also be acknowledged. A person may easily slip into the trap of viewing one’s humble beginnings and the people from our past with distain. How is the love and attachment to those of our past to be sustained?
These are the questions a reader will think about.
So why four stars? Because the book had me constantly thinking. Because I think all women will find events in their own life relatable to the different treatment allotted men versus women. Because the friendship that grows between Tambu and her cousin feels very real to me. The bitchy antics female to female is well drawn too.
The story has humor. One example must suffice. When Nyasha criticizes Tambu for behaving “as a peasant,� Tambu is confused. Pheasants she has read of. They are “land fowl,� those pretty birds that trail their tail feathers on the ground. She fails to note the difference between peasant and pheasant. When Tambu first confronts the modernizations implemented at the mission and in her cousin’s home, she is stumped. Nyasha’s foreign, downright peculiar behavior, a result of her having spent five years abroad in England, is beyond Tambu’s comprehension. Tambu’s confusion and incredulity are profound. This is extremely well drawn, and with an added touch of humor.
Goals set too high can destroy a person! Nyasha confronts this problem. Rebellion in a patriarchy threatens stability and must be squashed. This is what those in charge think! In any case, this is what Babamukuru thinks. Observing how difficult it is to be outside of the norm, to have a different background, to feel compelled to voice one’s views strike a chord within me. In other words, Nyasha is a character I can easily relate to.
This is more than a simple coming-of-age story.
The story sort of ends with a cliff hanger—we are supposed to read the next book in the series. I fear that the following two books will fail to pull me in, although this one did. I am not a lover of series. I’m satisfied with this.
The audiobook is narrated by Chipo Chung. At the start, it is difficult to identify the unfamiliar African names. This difficulty disappears as one listens. Chung’s narration is fantastic. Her inflections mirror the class to which a character belongs. You hear who has lived abroad, who is educated and who is not. The uneducated speak in a thicker, rougher dialect. Chung chants African tunes. She ululates. She marvelously captures the feel of Arica. Her superb narration is an important ingredient of the whole. I am giving the narration five stars.
* 4 stars
*
*
The central figure and the narrator of the story is Tambudzai Sigauke, Tambu for short. Telling the story now as an adult, she looks back to when she was fourteen. Her paternal uncle Babamukuru is a patriarchal and authoritative figure, the leader of the family and the headmaster of a Protestant mission school. He values education above all else. It is the means by which the family’s standing will be elevated. He expects obedience and respect from all members of the extended family. He is guided by duty, but he is NOT kind or loving.
Tambu, with the death of her elder brother, takes his place at their uncle’s mission school. We follow her trajectory for two years.
Attention is focused upon four women of the family—Tambu, her mother (Ma’Shingayi), her aunt (Maiguru) who is the wife of Babamukuru, and this aunt and uncle’s daughter (Nyasha). How do these and the other women of the tale relate to, cope with, fail to cope with and / or retaliate against Babamukuru’s heavy hand and chauvinism so prevalent in society?
Of course, a high level of education is valuable. Of course, experiencing an elevated lifestyle broadens one’s horizons and improves one’s prospects. However, both can have deleterious consequences on a personal level. Being different costs! Being different is not the road to popularity! Few had a good education, traveled abroad or lived so well as those at the mission.
When improving one’s lot in life, our roots must also be acknowledged. A person may easily slip into the trap of viewing one’s humble beginnings and the people from our past with distain. How is the love and attachment to those of our past to be sustained?
These are the questions a reader will think about.
So why four stars? Because the book had me constantly thinking. Because I think all women will find events in their own life relatable to the different treatment allotted men versus women. Because the friendship that grows between Tambu and her cousin feels very real to me. The bitchy antics female to female is well drawn too.
The story has humor. One example must suffice. When Nyasha criticizes Tambu for behaving “as a peasant,� Tambu is confused. Pheasants she has read of. They are “land fowl,� those pretty birds that trail their tail feathers on the ground. She fails to note the difference between peasant and pheasant. When Tambu first confronts the modernizations implemented at the mission and in her cousin’s home, she is stumped. Nyasha’s foreign, downright peculiar behavior, a result of her having spent five years abroad in England, is beyond Tambu’s comprehension. Tambu’s confusion and incredulity are profound. This is extremely well drawn, and with an added touch of humor.
Goals set too high can destroy a person! Nyasha confronts this problem. Rebellion in a patriarchy threatens stability and must be squashed. This is what those in charge think! In any case, this is what Babamukuru thinks. Observing how difficult it is to be outside of the norm, to have a different background, to feel compelled to voice one’s views strike a chord within me. In other words, Nyasha is a character I can easily relate to.
This is more than a simple coming-of-age story.
The story sort of ends with a cliff hanger—we are supposed to read the next book in the series. I fear that the following two books will fail to pull me in, although this one did. I am not a lover of series. I’m satisfied with this.
The audiobook is narrated by Chipo Chung. At the start, it is difficult to identify the unfamiliar African names. This difficulty disappears as one listens. Chung’s narration is fantastic. Her inflections mirror the class to which a character belongs. You hear who has lived abroad, who is educated and who is not. The uneducated speak in a thicker, rougher dialect. Chung chants African tunes. She ululates. She marvelously captures the feel of Arica. Her superb narration is an important ingredient of the whole. I am giving the narration five stars.
* 4 stars
*
*
August 19, 2021
This was Ms Dangarembga's first book of the eponymous series and I really enjoyed it. It deals with the childhood of her protagonist in Zimbabwe. I think it was marginally better than the second volume but that the third volume was the greatest so far. There is a lot to this novel about the social and political problems in Rhodesia (Zimbabwe before independence from the UK) and growing up female in a chauvinistic society. It is occasionally funny, mostly intriguing, and often heartbreaking as Tambu faces the realities of class and race in her society. Her uncle is a powerbroker and her father is somewhat useless. But, when the male heir of her uncle dies, she carries the torch for the family in getting an education.
January 7, 2019
Absolutely brilliant, one of the most interesting characters I've come across in my cross cultural journey's, portrayed with such raw honesty, I'm in awe and immensely relieved there is another book to follow, because I'm not ready to leave it there.
It's a coming of age story of Tambu, a teenage girl, who in the beginning lives in a small village with her parents and siblings and their days are hard, especially the women, who work in the fields all day, do the laundry at the river, transport water to and fro and cook in a kitchen that lacks modern conveniences and requires some skill and tenacity to manage. Despite the hard work Tambu loves her village and even the work and chores equally provide moments of pleasure and companionship.
Her cousins and Aunt and Uncle return from five years in England furthering their education so he can become headmaster of the mission school. Tambu is disappointed that her cousin isn't as friendly towards her as she was, the "englishness"has changed them. Her brother is offered the opportunity to get and education at the school where he teaches and Tambu having had to quit her education, sets about implementing a plan to earn her own school fees.
Thus she too is set on the path of an education informed by "english influences" though she retains her deep family and village values. However, being around and observing her cousin, and learning of the frustration of her Aunt, begins to slightly change her world view, as she dedicates herself to being the best pupil possible and the most respectful niece possible.
The subtle way her character transitions to greater awareness is so adeptly done, her feelings of ambition and regret as she realises it may be impossible to achieve all that she aspires to without losing something of what she had. She observes her cousin rebel and then accept that middle ground and fall victim to it, unable to go back, and alienated from her own.
All her characters are multi dimensional, portrayed in a way that even though they inflict suffering on another, we are made to understand their point of view and realise the dilemmas and complexities they face.
In an interview the author explains this:
I'm so glad I've read this early on, so I can get to the next two books in the trilogy and .
It's a coming of age story of Tambu, a teenage girl, who in the beginning lives in a small village with her parents and siblings and their days are hard, especially the women, who work in the fields all day, do the laundry at the river, transport water to and fro and cook in a kitchen that lacks modern conveniences and requires some skill and tenacity to manage. Despite the hard work Tambu loves her village and even the work and chores equally provide moments of pleasure and companionship.
Her cousins and Aunt and Uncle return from five years in England furthering their education so he can become headmaster of the mission school. Tambu is disappointed that her cousin isn't as friendly towards her as she was, the "englishness"has changed them. Her brother is offered the opportunity to get and education at the school where he teaches and Tambu having had to quit her education, sets about implementing a plan to earn her own school fees.
Thus she too is set on the path of an education informed by "english influences" though she retains her deep family and village values. However, being around and observing her cousin, and learning of the frustration of her Aunt, begins to slightly change her world view, as she dedicates herself to being the best pupil possible and the most respectful niece possible.
The subtle way her character transitions to greater awareness is so adeptly done, her feelings of ambition and regret as she realises it may be impossible to achieve all that she aspires to without losing something of what she had. She observes her cousin rebel and then accept that middle ground and fall victim to it, unable to go back, and alienated from her own.
All her characters are multi dimensional, portrayed in a way that even though they inflict suffering on another, we are made to understand their point of view and realise the dilemmas and complexities they face.
In an interview the author explains this:
One can hold a person responsible for reacting to a situation in a certain way, but the situation that exerted the pressure to behave in that way must also be addressed.
I'm so glad I've read this early on, so I can get to the next two books in the trilogy and .
October 22, 2021
Crecer en la Rodesia (actual Zimbawe) de los años 60, siendo mujer, pobre y negra, esa es la experiencia que Tsitsi Dangarembga nos transmite con fidelidad y detalle en esta novela basada en su propia vida. Pero no sólo es un Bildungsroman africano clásico, que se lee en las escuelas, sino que ofrece un retrato magnífico de la sociedad convulsa de esos años: los nativos que se apegan a sus costumbres pero se sienten avasallados por el poder de los colonizadores, en el frente político y cultural, pero también en el religioso.
Los blancos de la misión eran de un tipo especial, especial en el sentido que me había explicado mi abuela, pues eran santos. No habían venido a quitar sino a dar. Estaban para atender los asuntos de Dios aquí en África negra. Habían renunciado a las comodidades y la seguridad de sus propios hogares para venir y alumbrar nuestra oscuridad.
Toda esta complejidad la vivimos a través de Tambu, una niña de 14 años procedente de una familia pobre, que logra la oportunidad de educarse con los religiosos blancos:
Así comenzó el periodo de mi reencarnación. Me gustaba pensar que mi transferencia a la misión era mi reencarnación.
Sin embargo, y en gran medida a través de su rebelde prima Aysha, pronto se le harán patentes numerosas contradicciones, tanto por el hecho de tener que dar la espalda a su propia cultura, como por su condición de mujer:
Pero lo que no me gustaba era la manera en que todos los conflictos regresaban a esta cuestión de la condición de mujer. Ser mujer como algo contrario e inferior a ser hombre.
Lo mejor es la descripción minuciosa de la vida en la aldea, con su sistema patriarcal y sus costumbre ancestrales que poco a poco se van alterando por la influencia de los colonizadores.
En conjunto, es una novela muy valiente que plantea toda una serie de temas que siguen siendo de actualidad - racismo, colonialismo, feminismo - que también están muy bien desarrollados en la obra de autoras como Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, Zadie Smith y Marysé Condé.
Publicada en 1988, es la primera parte de una trilogía que ha seguido con (2006) y (2018), éste último candidato al Booker Prize de 2020.
Los blancos de la misión eran de un tipo especial, especial en el sentido que me había explicado mi abuela, pues eran santos. No habían venido a quitar sino a dar. Estaban para atender los asuntos de Dios aquí en África negra. Habían renunciado a las comodidades y la seguridad de sus propios hogares para venir y alumbrar nuestra oscuridad.
Toda esta complejidad la vivimos a través de Tambu, una niña de 14 años procedente de una familia pobre, que logra la oportunidad de educarse con los religiosos blancos:
Así comenzó el periodo de mi reencarnación. Me gustaba pensar que mi transferencia a la misión era mi reencarnación.
Sin embargo, y en gran medida a través de su rebelde prima Aysha, pronto se le harán patentes numerosas contradicciones, tanto por el hecho de tener que dar la espalda a su propia cultura, como por su condición de mujer:
Pero lo que no me gustaba era la manera en que todos los conflictos regresaban a esta cuestión de la condición de mujer. Ser mujer como algo contrario e inferior a ser hombre.
Lo mejor es la descripción minuciosa de la vida en la aldea, con su sistema patriarcal y sus costumbre ancestrales que poco a poco se van alterando por la influencia de los colonizadores.
En conjunto, es una novela muy valiente que plantea toda una serie de temas que siguen siendo de actualidad - racismo, colonialismo, feminismo - que también están muy bien desarrollados en la obra de autoras como Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, Zadie Smith y Marysé Condé.
Publicada en 1988, es la primera parte de una trilogía que ha seguido con (2006) y (2018), éste último candidato al Booker Prize de 2020.
October 16, 2021
This novel has a fantastic opening that immediately captured my interest:
“I was not sorry when my brother died. Nor am I apologising for my callousness, as you may define it, my lack of feeling…I shall not apologise but begin by recalling the facts as I remember them that led up to my brother’s death, the events that put me in a position to write this account. For though the event of my brother’s passing and the events of my story cannot be separated, my story is not after all about death, but about my escape.�
Set in Southern Rhodesia (Zimbabwe) in the 1960s-1970s, protagonist Tambu looks back on her life. As a teen, she yearned for education, but “the needs and sensibilities of the women in my family were not considered a priority, or even legitimate.� Through a confluence of circumstances, she gets the chance to attend a Protestant mission school. She is beholden to Babamukuru, her uncle and the head of the school. She wants to stand up for herself but finds it difficult. Her friend, Nyasha, daughter of Babamukuru, who has studied in England, has much less trouble rebelling against traditions.
“You had to admit that Nyasha had no tact. You had to admit she was altogether too volatile and strong-willed. You couldn’t ignore the fact that she had no respect for Babamukuru when she ought to have had lots of it. But what I didn’t like was the way all the conflicts came back to this question of femaleness. Femaleness as opposed and inferior to maleness.�
This story examines post-colonialism, race, class, gender, education, traditions, and the patriarchal society. It is a lot to pack into a 250-page novel, but these factors are all integrated beautifully into the storyline. The ending sets up the next book in this trilogy.
“I was not sorry when my brother died. Nor am I apologising for my callousness, as you may define it, my lack of feeling…I shall not apologise but begin by recalling the facts as I remember them that led up to my brother’s death, the events that put me in a position to write this account. For though the event of my brother’s passing and the events of my story cannot be separated, my story is not after all about death, but about my escape.�
Set in Southern Rhodesia (Zimbabwe) in the 1960s-1970s, protagonist Tambu looks back on her life. As a teen, she yearned for education, but “the needs and sensibilities of the women in my family were not considered a priority, or even legitimate.� Through a confluence of circumstances, she gets the chance to attend a Protestant mission school. She is beholden to Babamukuru, her uncle and the head of the school. She wants to stand up for herself but finds it difficult. Her friend, Nyasha, daughter of Babamukuru, who has studied in England, has much less trouble rebelling against traditions.
“You had to admit that Nyasha had no tact. You had to admit she was altogether too volatile and strong-willed. You couldn’t ignore the fact that she had no respect for Babamukuru when she ought to have had lots of it. But what I didn’t like was the way all the conflicts came back to this question of femaleness. Femaleness as opposed and inferior to maleness.�
This story examines post-colonialism, race, class, gender, education, traditions, and the patriarchal society. It is a lot to pack into a 250-page novel, but these factors are all integrated beautifully into the storyline. The ending sets up the next book in this trilogy.
December 20, 2024
A fantastic, powerful novel. What a book.
August 17, 2021
"No lamenté la muerte de mi hermano."
Con esta frase demoledora empieza esta novela considerada desde su publicación como uno de los baluartes de la literatura africana DzԳٱǰáԱ. La protagonista es Tambu, una adolescente que solo a la muerte de su hermano tiene la oportunidad de que la manden a la escuela. Su hermano Nhamo, al haber sido el único varón de la familia fue el elegido por su tio Babamukuru, el rico de la familia, para recibir una educación, porque lo que se esperaba de las niñas era que se quedaran en casa y ayudaran a su madre en espera de casarse. Tambu, sin embargo, no es una niña como las demás, ella envidia a su hermano la educación que está recibiendo, pero se encuentra una y otra vez con la negativa de sus padres:
"-Pero yo quiero ir a la escuela.
-Querer no basta.
-¿Por qué no?
Dudó, y después alzó los hombros.
-Es lo mismo en todas partes. Porque eres una mujer-."
Así que solo tras la muerte de su hermano la acoge su tio, ya que al no haber varones en la familia, si Tambu se hacia con una educación, podría sacar a su familia de la pobreza. Tambu se traslada a casa de la familia de su tio y sus horizontes empiezan a expandirse, porque ella que hasta ahora había conocido la pobreza y la exclusión, con una madre siempre deprimida por no parir hijos varones y un padre superficial y perezoso, en casa de su tio aprende que hay otra vida. Sus tios se han educado en Inglaterra y ambos son maestros, y sus primos también son una especie de híbridos en lo referente a educación y mentalidad al haber vivido años fuera.
Uno de los temas esenciales de esta novela es la forma en que reflexiona acerca de a mujer justo en un momento clave en una Rhodesia a punto de independizarse y convertirse en lo que hoy es Zimbawe entre los 60 y los 70. Al igual que ese pais colonizado, los personajes femeninos de esta novela podrían configurar el panorama de las diferentes mentalidades en plena rebelión. Era muy difícil cambiar el rol de la mujer, enquistadas en una sociedad ultrapatriarcal y al tiempo mismo colonial. Ellas de las que se esperaba que debían encajar en unas reglas marcadas y no moverse de ahí, es precisamente en esta época cuando empiezan a cambiar y rebelarse. Y para ello la autora crea cuatro o cinco personajes, representativos de estas mujeres: por una parte está la madre de Tambu, a la que le aterran los cambios, que su hija estudie y sea contaminada por la educación de los blancos y que se aferra a su pasivo inmovilismo:
"El asunto de ser mujer es una carga pesada -dijo-. ¿Y cómo no iba a serlo? ¿No somos nosotras las que parimos hijos? Cuando es así una no no puede sólo decidir hoy quiero hacer esto, mañana quiero hacer lo otro, al día siguiente quiero ser una persona educada. Cuando hay que sacrificarse por algo, a una le toca. (...)Y en estos días es peor, con la pobreza de ser negra por un lado y el peso de ser mujer por el otro."
Y por otro lado están los personajes de su tía Maiguru y su prima Nyasha, cultivadas y que han vivido en Inglaterra; su tía aunque trabaja tiene que entregar todo su sueldo a su marido y aunque juega a ser la esposa sumisa, tiene sus arranques de rebelión. Su prima Nyasha es una adolescente más atormentada en el sentido de que al haber vivido en Inglaterra y al volver a Rhodesia, realmente no sabe donde pertenece y presenta una continúa rebelión ante las decisiones de su padre
"La gente tenía prejuicios en contra de las mujeres educadas. Prejuicios. Por eso decían que no éramos decentes. Eso fue en los cincuenta. Ahora estamos a mediados de los setenta. Me decepciona que la gente siga creyendo lo mismo. Después de todo este tiempo y cuando no hemos visto nada que lo compruebe. No sé que quiere decir la gente con mujer disoluta: algunas veces es alguien que camina por las calles, otras es una mujer educada, otras es la hija de un hombre exitoso o simplemente es bonita."
Otro punto esencial que toca la autora a través del personaje de Tambu, es el de la influencia colonizadora en los personajes. Cuando Tambu sale de su aldea, y recibe la educación primero en la misión, y luego en un colegio mayoritariamente de blancos, se crea el conflicto de que automáticamente se le exige que entre en estos ritos occidentales: el uniforme, las costumbres, el idioma.. va perdiendo en el camino la esencia de sus raices. Es interesante la forma en que estos conceptos van calando en el personaje de Tambu, una chica lista que aunque quiere estudiar por encima de todo, también se plantea lo que estos cambios influyen en los personajes femeninos de la novela, pequeños actos de rebelión a través de una depresión, de una huida de casa por parte de la esposa, de la anorexia...
"Puesto que durante la mayor parte de su vida la mente de mi madre, que primero le perteneció a su padre y después a su esposo, no había sido suya, a ella le resultaba muy difícil tomar una decisión."
En mi búsqueda de escritoras africanas, esta es una novela que hace mucho que quería leer y ha valido la pena. Una novela de iniciación que toca muchos temas, universales por una parte en lo que se refiere a la emancipación de la mujer y la búsqueda de su identidad, y por otra parte, el de la Africa postcolonial que es otro tema que me parece interesantísimo también, en el sentido de que aunque las colonias fueran independizándose poco a poco, para el nativo no era tan fácil esta independencia mental. Buscando el significado del titulo de la novela, lo encontré en el prólogo de la novela donde explicaban que venía de una reflexión de Sartre al respecto: "Lacondicióndel indígena es una condición nerviosa (neurosis) introducida y mantenida por el colono entre los colonizados, con suconsentimiento".
"Es bastante malo cuando un país es colonizado -me dijo con severidad- pero es peor cuando su gente también es colonizada."
Con esta frase demoledora empieza esta novela considerada desde su publicación como uno de los baluartes de la literatura africana DzԳٱǰáԱ. La protagonista es Tambu, una adolescente que solo a la muerte de su hermano tiene la oportunidad de que la manden a la escuela. Su hermano Nhamo, al haber sido el único varón de la familia fue el elegido por su tio Babamukuru, el rico de la familia, para recibir una educación, porque lo que se esperaba de las niñas era que se quedaran en casa y ayudaran a su madre en espera de casarse. Tambu, sin embargo, no es una niña como las demás, ella envidia a su hermano la educación que está recibiendo, pero se encuentra una y otra vez con la negativa de sus padres:
"-Pero yo quiero ir a la escuela.
-Querer no basta.
-¿Por qué no?
Dudó, y después alzó los hombros.
-Es lo mismo en todas partes. Porque eres una mujer-."
Así que solo tras la muerte de su hermano la acoge su tio, ya que al no haber varones en la familia, si Tambu se hacia con una educación, podría sacar a su familia de la pobreza. Tambu se traslada a casa de la familia de su tio y sus horizontes empiezan a expandirse, porque ella que hasta ahora había conocido la pobreza y la exclusión, con una madre siempre deprimida por no parir hijos varones y un padre superficial y perezoso, en casa de su tio aprende que hay otra vida. Sus tios se han educado en Inglaterra y ambos son maestros, y sus primos también son una especie de híbridos en lo referente a educación y mentalidad al haber vivido años fuera.
Uno de los temas esenciales de esta novela es la forma en que reflexiona acerca de a mujer justo en un momento clave en una Rhodesia a punto de independizarse y convertirse en lo que hoy es Zimbawe entre los 60 y los 70. Al igual que ese pais colonizado, los personajes femeninos de esta novela podrían configurar el panorama de las diferentes mentalidades en plena rebelión. Era muy difícil cambiar el rol de la mujer, enquistadas en una sociedad ultrapatriarcal y al tiempo mismo colonial. Ellas de las que se esperaba que debían encajar en unas reglas marcadas y no moverse de ahí, es precisamente en esta época cuando empiezan a cambiar y rebelarse. Y para ello la autora crea cuatro o cinco personajes, representativos de estas mujeres: por una parte está la madre de Tambu, a la que le aterran los cambios, que su hija estudie y sea contaminada por la educación de los blancos y que se aferra a su pasivo inmovilismo:
"El asunto de ser mujer es una carga pesada -dijo-. ¿Y cómo no iba a serlo? ¿No somos nosotras las que parimos hijos? Cuando es así una no no puede sólo decidir hoy quiero hacer esto, mañana quiero hacer lo otro, al día siguiente quiero ser una persona educada. Cuando hay que sacrificarse por algo, a una le toca. (...)Y en estos días es peor, con la pobreza de ser negra por un lado y el peso de ser mujer por el otro."
Y por otro lado están los personajes de su tía Maiguru y su prima Nyasha, cultivadas y que han vivido en Inglaterra; su tía aunque trabaja tiene que entregar todo su sueldo a su marido y aunque juega a ser la esposa sumisa, tiene sus arranques de rebelión. Su prima Nyasha es una adolescente más atormentada en el sentido de que al haber vivido en Inglaterra y al volver a Rhodesia, realmente no sabe donde pertenece y presenta una continúa rebelión ante las decisiones de su padre
"La gente tenía prejuicios en contra de las mujeres educadas. Prejuicios. Por eso decían que no éramos decentes. Eso fue en los cincuenta. Ahora estamos a mediados de los setenta. Me decepciona que la gente siga creyendo lo mismo. Después de todo este tiempo y cuando no hemos visto nada que lo compruebe. No sé que quiere decir la gente con mujer disoluta: algunas veces es alguien que camina por las calles, otras es una mujer educada, otras es la hija de un hombre exitoso o simplemente es bonita."
Otro punto esencial que toca la autora a través del personaje de Tambu, es el de la influencia colonizadora en los personajes. Cuando Tambu sale de su aldea, y recibe la educación primero en la misión, y luego en un colegio mayoritariamente de blancos, se crea el conflicto de que automáticamente se le exige que entre en estos ritos occidentales: el uniforme, las costumbres, el idioma.. va perdiendo en el camino la esencia de sus raices. Es interesante la forma en que estos conceptos van calando en el personaje de Tambu, una chica lista que aunque quiere estudiar por encima de todo, también se plantea lo que estos cambios influyen en los personajes femeninos de la novela, pequeños actos de rebelión a través de una depresión, de una huida de casa por parte de la esposa, de la anorexia...
"Puesto que durante la mayor parte de su vida la mente de mi madre, que primero le perteneció a su padre y después a su esposo, no había sido suya, a ella le resultaba muy difícil tomar una decisión."
En mi búsqueda de escritoras africanas, esta es una novela que hace mucho que quería leer y ha valido la pena. Una novela de iniciación que toca muchos temas, universales por una parte en lo que se refiere a la emancipación de la mujer y la búsqueda de su identidad, y por otra parte, el de la Africa postcolonial que es otro tema que me parece interesantísimo también, en el sentido de que aunque las colonias fueran independizándose poco a poco, para el nativo no era tan fácil esta independencia mental. Buscando el significado del titulo de la novela, lo encontré en el prólogo de la novela donde explicaban que venía de una reflexión de Sartre al respecto: "Lacondicióndel indígena es una condición nerviosa (neurosis) introducida y mantenida por el colono entre los colonizados, con suconsentimiento".
"Es bastante malo cuando un país es colonizado -me dijo con severidad- pero es peor cuando su gente también es colonizada."
March 6, 2021
I read this as part of my effort to read the 2020 BookerLong List, which includes . That novel is part of a trilogy that includes this, (1988), and (2006). I plan to read the trilogy.
is considered one of the most important African books, with a theme on the limits of women in Africa. I was expecting dark disturbing stuff, and this was reinforced by the first line. The book opens, “I was not sorry when my brother died.� But "disturbing" is not the first thing on a readers mind while reading. More like "fascinating".
This novel captures a childhood world in 1960's rural Zimbabwe, where life depends on crops and a local river provides key necessities. And then it shows this child's view of education in a Protestant mission in a city. The novel rings with cultural clashes—rural vs urban, uneducated vs educated, and, especially, traditional customs and westernization. And it looks at the variations of privilege, sexism, and racism and the unexpected stresses these bring up. This was a terrific read. Recommended.
-----------------------------------------------
8. Nervous Conditions by Tsitsi Dangarembga
introduction: Kwame Anthony Appiah (2004)
published: 1988
format: 217-page paperback
acquired: December
read: Feb 14-28
time reading: 9 hr 17 min, 2.6 min/page
rating: 4½
locations: 1960’s Zimbabwe
about the author: born 1959 in Southern Rhodesia (now Zimbabwe)
is considered one of the most important African books, with a theme on the limits of women in Africa. I was expecting dark disturbing stuff, and this was reinforced by the first line. The book opens, “I was not sorry when my brother died.� But "disturbing" is not the first thing on a readers mind while reading. More like "fascinating".
This novel captures a childhood world in 1960's rural Zimbabwe, where life depends on crops and a local river provides key necessities. And then it shows this child's view of education in a Protestant mission in a city. The novel rings with cultural clashes—rural vs urban, uneducated vs educated, and, especially, traditional customs and westernization. And it looks at the variations of privilege, sexism, and racism and the unexpected stresses these bring up. This was a terrific read. Recommended.
-----------------------------------------------
8. Nervous Conditions by Tsitsi Dangarembga
introduction: Kwame Anthony Appiah (2004)
published: 1988
format: 217-page paperback
acquired: December
read: Feb 14-28
time reading: 9 hr 17 min, 2.6 min/page
rating: 4½
locations: 1960’s Zimbabwe
about the author: born 1959 in Southern Rhodesia (now Zimbabwe)
February 11, 2013
Holy fuck, this blew my mind.
I suppose what really got me was watching a young girl in an extremely male dominated world try to work her way through it to succeed in spite of a lot of adversity. And to watch each of the women around her try to do so too. What I really liked about the novel gets hit on in the author interview at the end, that there are no monsters in this book, each character does get to explain and be understood.
The author interview also mentions that Dangarembga finds race hard to write about. I hope she succeeds though because what was touched on in Nervous Conditions was interesting and I'd love to read more.
Read this book. Now.
I suppose what really got me was watching a young girl in an extremely male dominated world try to work her way through it to succeed in spite of a lot of adversity. And to watch each of the women around her try to do so too. What I really liked about the novel gets hit on in the author interview at the end, that there are no monsters in this book, each character does get to explain and be understood.
The author interview also mentions that Dangarembga finds race hard to write about. I hope she succeeds though because what was touched on in Nervous Conditions was interesting and I'd love to read more.
Read this book. Now.
September 20, 2020
Tsitsi Dangarembga � Zimbabvės rašytoja, filmų režisierė, dabar esanti kalėjime už Zimbabvės valdžios korupcijos kritiką.
“Nervous Conditions� (1988) yra jos pirmasis romanas, tapęs trilogijos pirmąja dalimi. Antroji dalis � “The Book of Not� (2006). Trečioji - “This Mournable Body� (2018) - šiemet pateko į Bookerio (2020) trumpąjį sąrašą.
Apie Tsitsi Dangarembga ir jos kūrinius nieko nebuvau girdėjusi, o pasirodo “Nervous Conditions�, anot BBC, ‘one of the top 100 books that have shaped the world�.Jau vien dėl to buvo įdomu susipažinti su šia knyga, kuri vadinama Afrikos literatūros klasika. Ilgiau nebelaukdama, atsiverčiau ją.
‘The condition of native is a nervous condition’� autorė pasirinko Sartre citatą knygos epigrafui.
Ir štai pirmasis sakinys, kuris negali neužkabinti: ‘I was not sorry when my brother died�.
Romanas yra pusiau autobiografinis - apie dvi mergaites-paaugles-puseseres (jų abiejų istorijos atspindi kai kuriuos autorės biografijos momentus), jų augimą ir brendimą tuometinėje Rodezijoje (dabar Zimbabve) 1960-70-iais. Apie lytinę nelygybę ir bundantį merginų/moterų lygiateisiškumo pojūtį, kolonializmą ir rasizmą. Man stipriausiai nuskambėjo feminizmo tema ir patraukė tai, kaip meistriškai Tsitsi Dangarembga plėtojo šio pasakojimo pagrindinių veikėjų � dviejų mergaičių - charakterius.
Romanas baigiasi ties Tambu � šią istoriją pasakojančios juodaodės merginos - atvykimu į prestižinę baltųjų mokyklą. Įdomu, kaip jai eisis toliau�
Rekomenduoju.
“Nervous Conditions� (1988) yra jos pirmasis romanas, tapęs trilogijos pirmąja dalimi. Antroji dalis � “The Book of Not� (2006). Trečioji - “This Mournable Body� (2018) - šiemet pateko į Bookerio (2020) trumpąjį sąrašą.
Apie Tsitsi Dangarembga ir jos kūrinius nieko nebuvau girdėjusi, o pasirodo “Nervous Conditions�, anot BBC, ‘one of the top 100 books that have shaped the world�.Jau vien dėl to buvo įdomu susipažinti su šia knyga, kuri vadinama Afrikos literatūros klasika. Ilgiau nebelaukdama, atsiverčiau ją.
‘The condition of native is a nervous condition’� autorė pasirinko Sartre citatą knygos epigrafui.
Ir štai pirmasis sakinys, kuris negali neužkabinti: ‘I was not sorry when my brother died�.
Romanas yra pusiau autobiografinis - apie dvi mergaites-paaugles-puseseres (jų abiejų istorijos atspindi kai kuriuos autorės biografijos momentus), jų augimą ir brendimą tuometinėje Rodezijoje (dabar Zimbabve) 1960-70-iais. Apie lytinę nelygybę ir bundantį merginų/moterų lygiateisiškumo pojūtį, kolonializmą ir rasizmą. Man stipriausiai nuskambėjo feminizmo tema ir patraukė tai, kaip meistriškai Tsitsi Dangarembga plėtojo šio pasakojimo pagrindinių veikėjų � dviejų mergaičių - charakterius.
Romanas baigiasi ties Tambu � šią istoriją pasakojančios juodaodės merginos - atvykimu į prestižinę baltųjų mokyklą. Įdomu, kaip jai eisis toliau�
Rekomenduoju.
June 14, 2023
Condições Nervosas de Tsitsi Dangarembga conta a história de Tambudzai, uma rapariga de uma região rural da Rodésia (actual Zimbabué) durante os anos 1960. O irmão de Tambu, Nhamo, morre inesperadamente e, apesar das expectativas culturais de luto, Tambu sente uma mistura de alívio e ambivalência em relação à sua morte.
Não lamentei quando meu irmão morreu. Também não estou me desculpando por minha indiferença, como você poderia descrever, minha falta de sentimento.
Isto acontece porque a morte de Nhamo abre novas possibilidades para Tambu, permitindo-lhe ter uma educação que lhe tinha sido negada por ser mulher.
A história passa-se na época colonial na Rodésia, quando o país ainda era controlado pelos britânicos, e mostra bem as desigualdades sociais e económicas entre os brancos colonizadores que dominam e a maioria negra africana que sofre opressão constante e tem poucas oportunidades de progredir.
� Já é ruim � ela disse, séria � quando um país é colonizado, mas quando as pessoas são colonizadas também! Esse é o fim, é o fim mesmo.
A autora explora também as diferenças sociais dentro da sociedade rodesiana, especialmente entre as comunidades rurais e urbanas. As áreas rurais, como Umtali (atual Mutare) de onde Tambu vem, são caracterizadas pela pobreza, acesso limitado à educação e papéis de género tradicionais. Em contraste, as áreas urbanas, Salisbury (atual Harare), são retratadas como lugares de oportunidade e avanço, mas também como locais de deslocação cultural e influência ocidental.
O papel das mulheres é o assunto principal do romance. A prima de Tambu, Nyasha, é uma personagem complexa que incorpora a luta pelo empoderamento feminino numa sociedade patriarcal. Nyasha rebela-se contra as expectativas tradicionais, aposta na educação como arma e luta pela sua independência. No entanto, a sua desobediência tem um custo, ela enfrenta críticas, desafios de saúde mental e principalmente conflitos com a sua família.
As dinâmicas entre homens e mulheres numa sociedade patriarcal são complexas, e as desigualdades de poder normalmente remetem as mulheres para papéis submissos. As personagens masculinas reforçam essas normas e resistem às mudanças.
Jeremiah, pai de Tambu representa os valores tradicionais da sociedade patriarcal. É resistente às mudanças e é um exemplo de como os homens podem perpetuar as normas sociais opressivas.
Você pode cozinhar livros e dar para seu marido comer? Fique em casa com sua mãe. Aprenda a cozinhar e a limpar. Plante vegetais.
Babamukuru, representa a ascensão social e a influência do sistema colonial. Ele é o tio de Tambu e um dos poucos membros da família a ter acesso à educação. Porém, ele é um defensor das tradições patriarcais.
Ele era um perfeccionista rígido e imponente, com caráter duro o bastante para funcionar da maneira puritana que ele esperava, ou melhor, insistia que o resto do mundo funcionasse. Por sorte, ou, talvez, por azar para ele, durante toda a vida Babamukuru tinha estado � como filho mais velho, como um dos primeiros africanos educados, como diretor, como marido e pai, como provedor para muitos � em posições que o permitiam organizar sua realidade imediata da forma que ele desejasse.
As crenças tradicionais africanas e o cristianismo coexistem, mas o cristianismo é frequentemente usado como meio de manter a ordem social e reforçar valores patriarcais.
Gostei da forma como a autora aborda e explora temas complexos � ainda para mais sendo este um livro publicado anos 80 � com uma escrita simples mas que nos envolve, provoca e desafia.
Pelos vistos a história continua, há mais dois volumes.
66/198 - Zimbábue, Zimbabué, ou Zimbabwe, (em xona: Zimbabwe, "casa de pedra"), anteriormente designado Rodésia do Sul e, depois, simplesmente Rodésia.
Não lamentei quando meu irmão morreu. Também não estou me desculpando por minha indiferença, como você poderia descrever, minha falta de sentimento.
Isto acontece porque a morte de Nhamo abre novas possibilidades para Tambu, permitindo-lhe ter uma educação que lhe tinha sido negada por ser mulher.
A história passa-se na época colonial na Rodésia, quando o país ainda era controlado pelos britânicos, e mostra bem as desigualdades sociais e económicas entre os brancos colonizadores que dominam e a maioria negra africana que sofre opressão constante e tem poucas oportunidades de progredir.
� Já é ruim � ela disse, séria � quando um país é colonizado, mas quando as pessoas são colonizadas também! Esse é o fim, é o fim mesmo.
A autora explora também as diferenças sociais dentro da sociedade rodesiana, especialmente entre as comunidades rurais e urbanas. As áreas rurais, como Umtali (atual Mutare) de onde Tambu vem, são caracterizadas pela pobreza, acesso limitado à educação e papéis de género tradicionais. Em contraste, as áreas urbanas, Salisbury (atual Harare), são retratadas como lugares de oportunidade e avanço, mas também como locais de deslocação cultural e influência ocidental.
O papel das mulheres é o assunto principal do romance. A prima de Tambu, Nyasha, é uma personagem complexa que incorpora a luta pelo empoderamento feminino numa sociedade patriarcal. Nyasha rebela-se contra as expectativas tradicionais, aposta na educação como arma e luta pela sua independência. No entanto, a sua desobediência tem um custo, ela enfrenta críticas, desafios de saúde mental e principalmente conflitos com a sua família.
As dinâmicas entre homens e mulheres numa sociedade patriarcal são complexas, e as desigualdades de poder normalmente remetem as mulheres para papéis submissos. As personagens masculinas reforçam essas normas e resistem às mudanças.
Jeremiah, pai de Tambu representa os valores tradicionais da sociedade patriarcal. É resistente às mudanças e é um exemplo de como os homens podem perpetuar as normas sociais opressivas.
Você pode cozinhar livros e dar para seu marido comer? Fique em casa com sua mãe. Aprenda a cozinhar e a limpar. Plante vegetais.
Babamukuru, representa a ascensão social e a influência do sistema colonial. Ele é o tio de Tambu e um dos poucos membros da família a ter acesso à educação. Porém, ele é um defensor das tradições patriarcais.
Ele era um perfeccionista rígido e imponente, com caráter duro o bastante para funcionar da maneira puritana que ele esperava, ou melhor, insistia que o resto do mundo funcionasse. Por sorte, ou, talvez, por azar para ele, durante toda a vida Babamukuru tinha estado � como filho mais velho, como um dos primeiros africanos educados, como diretor, como marido e pai, como provedor para muitos � em posições que o permitiam organizar sua realidade imediata da forma que ele desejasse.
As crenças tradicionais africanas e o cristianismo coexistem, mas o cristianismo é frequentemente usado como meio de manter a ordem social e reforçar valores patriarcais.
Gostei da forma como a autora aborda e explora temas complexos � ainda para mais sendo este um livro publicado anos 80 � com uma escrita simples mas que nos envolve, provoca e desafia.
Pelos vistos a história continua, há mais dois volumes.
66/198 - Zimbábue, Zimbabué, ou Zimbabwe, (em xona: Zimbabwe, "casa de pedra"), anteriormente designado Rodésia do Sul e, depois, simplesmente Rodésia.
July 20, 2016
I wasn’t going to read this book, because I already had one for Zimbabwe and thought it was just another coming-of-age story. Then I read , which made me sit up and pay attention. And so I wound up reading the book, which is good, but oh, so depressing.
I should say that the books I find depressing are somewhat idiosyncratic. A lot of people have trouble reading about war and related atrocities, but those books rarely affect me much; they’re just too far beyond my realm of experience to evoke strong reactions. But give me or, as here, oppressive societal structures ruining people’s lives, and yikes! That’s awful! How can people enjoy reading that!
So, this book. It's about colonialism and patriarchy, but more specifically it's about the ways families enforce patriarchy, about struggles within families for dominance on the one hand and independence on the other, and about the ways these systems hurt and distort and destroy people--particularly girls. It's heavy stuff. And I'm not so sure it is a coming-of-age novel, as it's often described: Tambudzai, the narrator, is a teenager, and she gains knowledge and experience, but along the way she loses her confidence, perhaps even her sense of identity.
There isn't a lot of plot here in the traditional sense, but at the same time there's a lot going on: there's Tambu's struggle to get an education; there's her relationship with her more worldly cousin, Nyasha; there's Nyasha's rebellion against her father's authority; there are the various other relationships within the family. Tambu's impoverished mother and her well-educated aunt are both unhappy with their roles in life, but resigned to them; there's really nowhere else for them to go because--this is crucial--their family is shaped by the larger society and doesn't seem to be any better or worse than anyone else's. There's a tendency in books about oppression of women to lay all the blame at the feet of some particularly awful man--which makes for a more optimistic story, because then all the heroine has to do is escape that man, find a nice one and ta da! Happy ending! But the patriarch here, Babamukuru, is far from a monster: he's a successful man who's generous with his extended family, and in return he expects gratitude and obedience. After all, he knows what's right, and everyone else is his responsibility.
So, the characters are well-drawn and believable, and their relationships have the depth and authenticity you'd expect from a literary novel. The writing is also good and the themes are handled well. The book does perhaps over-explain its characters' psychologies, in the way old-fashioned novels do, but it was only written in 1988 and might have benefited from telling less and trusting readers more. It's written from Tambu's perspective as an adult woman, with a much better understanding of the events and personalities than she had at the time, but we never see how she reached that understanding; the ending is abrupt, and feels more like a beginning than an end. But maybe all that explaining is necessary; maybe the dynamics portrayed here are so subtle and so unexceptional that if not pointed out they would be lost entirely.
At any rate, this book was a bit of a struggle for me--although short, it's not a quick or light read. But it is well-written and thoughtful enough that it's worth the effort.
I should say that the books I find depressing are somewhat idiosyncratic. A lot of people have trouble reading about war and related atrocities, but those books rarely affect me much; they’re just too far beyond my realm of experience to evoke strong reactions. But give me or, as here, oppressive societal structures ruining people’s lives, and yikes! That’s awful! How can people enjoy reading that!
So, this book. It's about colonialism and patriarchy, but more specifically it's about the ways families enforce patriarchy, about struggles within families for dominance on the one hand and independence on the other, and about the ways these systems hurt and distort and destroy people--particularly girls. It's heavy stuff. And I'm not so sure it is a coming-of-age novel, as it's often described: Tambudzai, the narrator, is a teenager, and she gains knowledge and experience, but along the way she loses her confidence, perhaps even her sense of identity.
There isn't a lot of plot here in the traditional sense, but at the same time there's a lot going on: there's Tambu's struggle to get an education; there's her relationship with her more worldly cousin, Nyasha; there's Nyasha's rebellion against her father's authority; there are the various other relationships within the family. Tambu's impoverished mother and her well-educated aunt are both unhappy with their roles in life, but resigned to them; there's really nowhere else for them to go because--this is crucial--their family is shaped by the larger society and doesn't seem to be any better or worse than anyone else's. There's a tendency in books about oppression of women to lay all the blame at the feet of some particularly awful man--which makes for a more optimistic story, because then all the heroine has to do is escape that man, find a nice one and ta da! Happy ending! But the patriarch here, Babamukuru, is far from a monster: he's a successful man who's generous with his extended family, and in return he expects gratitude and obedience. After all, he knows what's right, and everyone else is his responsibility.
So, the characters are well-drawn and believable, and their relationships have the depth and authenticity you'd expect from a literary novel. The writing is also good and the themes are handled well. The book does perhaps over-explain its characters' psychologies, in the way old-fashioned novels do, but it was only written in 1988 and might have benefited from telling less and trusting readers more. It's written from Tambu's perspective as an adult woman, with a much better understanding of the events and personalities than she had at the time, but we never see how she reached that understanding; the ending is abrupt, and feels more like a beginning than an end. But maybe all that explaining is necessary; maybe the dynamics portrayed here are so subtle and so unexceptional that if not pointed out they would be lost entirely.
At any rate, this book was a bit of a struggle for me--although short, it's not a quick or light read. But it is well-written and thoughtful enough that it's worth the effort.
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