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So Long a Letter
This novel is in the form of a letter, written by the widowed Ramatoulaye and describing her struggle for survival. It is the winner of the Noma Award.
90 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1980
About the author
Mariama Bâ
10 books217 followersMariama Bâ (1929 – 1981) was a Senegalese author and feminist, who wrote in French. Born in Dakar, she was raised a Muslim, but at an early age came to criticise what she perceived as inequalities between the sexes resulting from [African] traditions. Raised by her traditional grandparents, she had to struggle even to gain an education, because they did not believe that girls should be taught. Bâ later married a Senegalese member of Parliament, Obèye Diop, but divorced him and was left to care for their nine children.
Her frustration with the fate of African women—as well as her ultimate acceptance of it—is expressed in her first novel, So Long a Letter. In it she depicts the sorrow and resignation of a woman who must share the mourning for her late husband with his second, younger wife. Abiola Irele called it "the most deeply felt presentation of the female condition in African fiction". This short book was awarded the first Noma Prize for Publishing in Africa in 1980.[1]
Bâ died a year later after a protracted illness, before her second novel, Scarlet Song, which describes the hardships a woman faces when her husband abandons her for a younger woman he knew at youth, was published.
FRom Wikipedia
Her frustration with the fate of African women—as well as her ultimate acceptance of it—is expressed in her first novel, So Long a Letter. In it she depicts the sorrow and resignation of a woman who must share the mourning for her late husband with his second, younger wife. Abiola Irele called it "the most deeply felt presentation of the female condition in African fiction". This short book was awarded the first Noma Prize for Publishing in Africa in 1980.[1]
Bâ died a year later after a protracted illness, before her second novel, Scarlet Song, which describes the hardships a woman faces when her husband abandons her for a younger woman he knew at youth, was published.
FRom Wikipedia
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May 9, 2017
So Long A Letter by Mariama Ba is an entry in the book 500 Great Books by Women by Erica Baumeister. I am part of the goodreads group by the same name, and I have made it a long term goal to read as many of the choices as possible. Ba was born in Dakar, Senegal in 1929. She attended school and achieved a profession at a time when women in her country had few choices outside of marriage. Ahead of her time, Ba fought for equal rights for men and women both inside of and outside of the home. So Long A Letter is an autobiographical novella, in which Ba professes her desire to see equality amongst all people come to her country.
Ramatoulaye is in the mourning period for her husband Modou. Prior to his death, he abandoned her for a woman half of her age despite having twelve children with her. Rather than divorcing Ramatoulaye, she becomes a co-wife, which is legal in Muslim Africa. Even though she should be afforded the rights of a head wife, Ramatoulaye does not receive anything from her husband, who is supposedly in love with a new wife young enough to be his daughter. At Modou's funeral, both women are given equal treatment even though he had been married to Ramatoulaye much longer, and in the eyes of her community, she should be receive the majority of compensation.
Unable to cope with her depressed feelings, Ramatoulaye composes a long letter to her dear friend Aissatou, who broke through Senegal's glass ceiling, and is now an ambassador in America. Ramatoulaye pours out her frustration that in Senegal the social system is in place that a girl can either get married out of school or be destined to work in a low paying job as midwife or elementary teacher. At the time of publication, there were only four women out of one hundred in the Senegalese assembly, assuring that men make the laws that keep women subservient. It is little wonder to Ramatoulaye that her co-wife would marry her husband while still a school girl. This realization does little to mask her feelings, that of a wife abandoned by the husband of her children, who is now struggling to make ends meet.
Suitors come to Ramatoulaye following her mourning period. They assume that she would rather be married to someone she does not love than single. Yet, Ba through Ramatoulaye writes that women should strive to be more than wives and mothers and hope to achieve jobs as doctor, teacher, ambassador, or any profession that a man also does. Ba wrote this in the post colonial period when Senegalese women were first thinking about equality. Her writing was a means to generate more thinking of this issue in hopes that African women strive to be on equal footing as men.
Mariama Ba created a strong female character in Ramatoulaye. She ushered in an era of African women writers who voiced their concerns about treatment of women in society. Unfortunately, Ba passed away shortly after the publication of her second book, but she left a legacy with So Long a Letter, the first African book to win the Noma Award. A first of its genre, So Long a Letter merits inclusion as a great book by women, and rates 4.5 bright stars.
Ramatoulaye is in the mourning period for her husband Modou. Prior to his death, he abandoned her for a woman half of her age despite having twelve children with her. Rather than divorcing Ramatoulaye, she becomes a co-wife, which is legal in Muslim Africa. Even though she should be afforded the rights of a head wife, Ramatoulaye does not receive anything from her husband, who is supposedly in love with a new wife young enough to be his daughter. At Modou's funeral, both women are given equal treatment even though he had been married to Ramatoulaye much longer, and in the eyes of her community, she should be receive the majority of compensation.
Unable to cope with her depressed feelings, Ramatoulaye composes a long letter to her dear friend Aissatou, who broke through Senegal's glass ceiling, and is now an ambassador in America. Ramatoulaye pours out her frustration that in Senegal the social system is in place that a girl can either get married out of school or be destined to work in a low paying job as midwife or elementary teacher. At the time of publication, there were only four women out of one hundred in the Senegalese assembly, assuring that men make the laws that keep women subservient. It is little wonder to Ramatoulaye that her co-wife would marry her husband while still a school girl. This realization does little to mask her feelings, that of a wife abandoned by the husband of her children, who is now struggling to make ends meet.
Suitors come to Ramatoulaye following her mourning period. They assume that she would rather be married to someone she does not love than single. Yet, Ba through Ramatoulaye writes that women should strive to be more than wives and mothers and hope to achieve jobs as doctor, teacher, ambassador, or any profession that a man also does. Ba wrote this in the post colonial period when Senegalese women were first thinking about equality. Her writing was a means to generate more thinking of this issue in hopes that African women strive to be on equal footing as men.
Mariama Ba created a strong female character in Ramatoulaye. She ushered in an era of African women writers who voiced their concerns about treatment of women in society. Unfortunately, Ba passed away shortly after the publication of her second book, but she left a legacy with So Long a Letter, the first African book to win the Noma Award. A first of its genre, So Long a Letter merits inclusion as a great book by women, and rates 4.5 bright stars.
August 31, 2014
"Ebb and tide of feeling: heat and dazzlement, the wood fires, the sharp green mango, bitten into in turns, a delicacy in our greedy mouths. I close my eyes."
What you hear is the voice of the heartbroken Ramatoulaye, who has been forced into solitude (according to the dictates of Islam) to mourn the death of the husband who, when he lived, humiliated and abandoned her. This is an epistolary; a meditation on life and life's choices. It is an anguished plea from one conservative woman, to her liberal best friend who, when faced with the same choice, chose freedom:
I read this book as a high school student in Liberia, and I still remember how it seemed to taunt me: there it was, on the list of books to be read in my Language and Literature class; when I went to the next class, Reading,there it was again; and later, in French class, guess which book was waiting in its original French version: Une si longue lettre. The ebb and flow of this book is somewhat unique, as is its syntax and nuance. It is also one of those books that loses some of its power through translation, but there is no mistaking its cultural and universal penetration.
She is not just an African woman (a Senegalese); she is not just a Muslim woman. She is every woman. The moment you start reading this book you understand how her problems are universal, and why this book has become a statement of gender struggles; an ode to the inner turmoil any woman could experience at such a midlife change:
She is not just the product of a polygamous marriage. She was the other half of a two-decade marriage, when she was suddenly informed by relatives, that her husband had just married her daughter's best friend. She was not only forced into becoming a first wife--as is often said in blurbs of this book--but she was abandoned and her twelve children forgotten, when her husband left his home to parlay the town with his young wife. This is not about a woman who must become the head wife of a bigger family, this is about a woman discarded by a man who pretends to do right by his religion, but in actuality, has done right by his vital organ.
The idea that she still loves this man, is searing, but understandable. The thought of her still holding on to that life, unbearable. This theme of choice is an educational debate and exploration that takes place through the mothers and daughters of this novel: A daughter who wants her mother to leave an unhealthy marriage; a best friend who did leave and start a better life away from home; a woman who left her country, only to find that she would never be at home in her husband's country; an unmarried daughter who had to decide her unborn child's fate. There is a saying that discord here may be luck elsewhere. Why are you afraid to make the break?
Unlike many women of her generation, Mariama Bâ was educated. She became a pioneer for women's rights. A Senegalese writer and schoolteacher who believed that the writer of a developing country needed to be the voice for the voiceless and speak out against archaic customs, she chose to do so through her fiction and main character, who is thankful for the women who were able to accomplish what she could not:
What you hear is the voice of the heartbroken Ramatoulaye, who has been forced into solitude (according to the dictates of Islam) to mourn the death of the husband who, when he lived, humiliated and abandoned her. This is an epistolary; a meditation on life and life's choices. It is an anguished plea from one conservative woman, to her liberal best friend who, when faced with the same choice, chose freedom:
I listen to the words that create around me a new atmosphere in which I move, a stranger tormented…Cross sections of my life spring involuntarily from my memory, grandiose verses from the Koran, noble words of consolation fight for my attention
I read this book as a high school student in Liberia, and I still remember how it seemed to taunt me: there it was, on the list of books to be read in my Language and Literature class; when I went to the next class, Reading,there it was again; and later, in French class, guess which book was waiting in its original French version: Une si longue lettre. The ebb and flow of this book is somewhat unique, as is its syntax and nuance. It is also one of those books that loses some of its power through translation, but there is no mistaking its cultural and universal penetration.
She is not just an African woman (a Senegalese); she is not just a Muslim woman. She is every woman. The moment you start reading this book you understand how her problems are universal, and why this book has become a statement of gender struggles; an ode to the inner turmoil any woman could experience at such a midlife change:
I had lost my slim figure, as well as ease and quickness of movement. My stomach protruded from beneath the wrapper that hid the calves developed by the impressive number of kilometres walked since the beginning of my existence. Suckling had robbed my breasts of their round firmness. I could not delude myself: youth was deserting my body.
She is not just the product of a polygamous marriage. She was the other half of a two-decade marriage, when she was suddenly informed by relatives, that her husband had just married her daughter's best friend. She was not only forced into becoming a first wife--as is often said in blurbs of this book--but she was abandoned and her twelve children forgotten, when her husband left his home to parlay the town with his young wife. This is not about a woman who must become the head wife of a bigger family, this is about a woman discarded by a man who pretends to do right by his religion, but in actuality, has done right by his vital organ.
Every night when he went out he would unfold and try on several of his suits before settling on one. The others, impatiently rejected, would slip to the floor. I would have to fold them again and put them back in their places; and this extra work, I discovered, I was doing only to help him in his effort to be elegant in his seduction of another woman.
The idea that she still loves this man, is searing, but understandable. The thought of her still holding on to that life, unbearable. This theme of choice is an educational debate and exploration that takes place through the mothers and daughters of this novel: A daughter who wants her mother to leave an unhealthy marriage; a best friend who did leave and start a better life away from home; a woman who left her country, only to find that she would never be at home in her husband's country; an unmarried daughter who had to decide her unborn child's fate. There is a saying that discord here may be luck elsewhere. Why are you afraid to make the break?
Unlike many women of her generation, Mariama Bâ was educated. She became a pioneer for women's rights. A Senegalese writer and schoolteacher who believed that the writer of a developing country needed to be the voice for the voiceless and speak out against archaic customs, she chose to do so through her fiction and main character, who is thankful for the women who were able to accomplish what she could not:
I am not indifferent to the irreversible currents of women's liberation that are lashing the world. This commotion that is shaking up every aspect of our lives reveals and illustrates our abilities. My heart rejoices each time a woman emerges from the shadows.
February 19, 2022
i used to read books in french for school and then write essays about them in french, because i was very smart.
now i read books in english, because i am no longer smart, and write zero essays in any language, because i am no longer in school.
excuse me while i weep in the remnants of my french accent.
part of a series i'm doing in which i review books i read a long time ago while saying almost nothing about the book
now i read books in english, because i am no longer smart, and write zero essays in any language, because i am no longer in school.
excuse me while i weep in the remnants of my french accent.
part of a series i'm doing in which i review books i read a long time ago while saying almost nothing about the book
June 14, 2020
"We all agreed that much dismantling was needed to introduce modernity within our traditions. Torn between the past and the present, we deplored the ‘hard sweat’ that would be inevitable. We counted the possible losses. But we knew that nothing would be as before. We were full of nostalgia but were resolutely progressive."- Mariama Bâ, So Long a Letter
Mariama Bâ means a lot to me because she was the first African woman writer I’d ever read. I like to think I recognized her genius at age 14 when I read So Long a Letter for the very first time but it’s only now as an adult with more awareness and lived experience that I really understand how powerful of a writer she was.
This book seems simple enough in storyline, a long letter written by Ramatoulaye to Aissatou, her long time friend on the event of Ramatoulaye’s recent widowhood. The letter contains so much more than just words to a friend though; incorporates feminism, Senegalese tradition, religion, and history, all the things that were very relevant to the lives of these two women. Ramatoulaye, mother of 12 children whose husband of 30 years abandoned her 5 years prior to his death for a much younger second wife, details her childhood, marriage struggles and so on. The emotions that are brimming under the surface may not have had an outlet in many circumstances but in this case the protagonist has an audience in her best friend Aissatou who, when her husband decided to take on a second wife, divorced him rather than stay in a polygamous household against her wishes.
I’ve always been interested in stories that take place during times of transition and this letter details a lot of the thoughts and observations of the transition from colonialism to independence. This winter I sat down with my 90 year old grandmother who was a young primary school English teacher during colonialism and she told me about what a hopeful time independence seemed to be for African women. She told me about how empowered she felt being able to work, and another thing she mentioned was how people thought that she, as a woman in the 1940s and 50s, must be pretty eccentric to even want to work. I had always thought of my grandmother as very conservative and traditional but hearing her story made me realize she was more of a rebel than I’d ever be. Mariama Bâ was coincidentally born in the same year as my grandmother so rereading her thoughts on African feminism during this time really made me reflect on my conversations with my grandmother and how life changed for African women during transitions:
We were true sisters, destined for the same mission of emancipation. To lift us out of the bog of tradition, superstition and custom, to make us appreciate a multitude of civilizations without renouncing our own, to raise our vision of the world, cultivate our personalities, strengthen our qualities, to make up for our inadequacies, to develop universal moral values in us: these were
the aims of our admirable headmistress.
It’s interesting reading this book in the 21st century, over half a century onwards from independence and realizing that that hope the continent felt was sort of misplaced and didn’t come to fruition in many ways because of poor governance. A powerful book that I’m sure I’ll love forever.
Mariama Bâ means a lot to me because she was the first African woman writer I’d ever read. I like to think I recognized her genius at age 14 when I read So Long a Letter for the very first time but it’s only now as an adult with more awareness and lived experience that I really understand how powerful of a writer she was.
This book seems simple enough in storyline, a long letter written by Ramatoulaye to Aissatou, her long time friend on the event of Ramatoulaye’s recent widowhood. The letter contains so much more than just words to a friend though; incorporates feminism, Senegalese tradition, religion, and history, all the things that were very relevant to the lives of these two women. Ramatoulaye, mother of 12 children whose husband of 30 years abandoned her 5 years prior to his death for a much younger second wife, details her childhood, marriage struggles and so on. The emotions that are brimming under the surface may not have had an outlet in many circumstances but in this case the protagonist has an audience in her best friend Aissatou who, when her husband decided to take on a second wife, divorced him rather than stay in a polygamous household against her wishes.
I’ve always been interested in stories that take place during times of transition and this letter details a lot of the thoughts and observations of the transition from colonialism to independence. This winter I sat down with my 90 year old grandmother who was a young primary school English teacher during colonialism and she told me about what a hopeful time independence seemed to be for African women. She told me about how empowered she felt being able to work, and another thing she mentioned was how people thought that she, as a woman in the 1940s and 50s, must be pretty eccentric to even want to work. I had always thought of my grandmother as very conservative and traditional but hearing her story made me realize she was more of a rebel than I’d ever be. Mariama Bâ was coincidentally born in the same year as my grandmother so rereading her thoughts on African feminism during this time really made me reflect on my conversations with my grandmother and how life changed for African women during transitions:
We were true sisters, destined for the same mission of emancipation. To lift us out of the bog of tradition, superstition and custom, to make us appreciate a multitude of civilizations without renouncing our own, to raise our vision of the world, cultivate our personalities, strengthen our qualities, to make up for our inadequacies, to develop universal moral values in us: these were
the aims of our admirable headmistress.
It’s interesting reading this book in the 21st century, over half a century onwards from independence and realizing that that hope the continent felt was sort of misplaced and didn’t come to fruition in many ways because of poor governance. A powerful book that I’m sure I’ll love forever.
September 11, 2016
A brief, well-crafted novella in the form of a letter between two middle-aged friends. The writer is Ramatoulaye; her husband, has died suddenly and she is has to remain in seclusion for four months and ten days as per her religious strictures (Islamic). The recipient is her friend Aissatou. Both women have had husband problems. Aissoutou’s husband had taken a second, much younger wife. She had divorced him as a result and had left to make a new life in America. Ramatoulaye’s husband had five years previously also taken a second and much younger wife and moved in with her. She recounts and comments on the history of herself and her friend, setting out the role of women in Senegal pre and post-independence. It is beautifully written and is a testament to friendship.
Ba is also analysing polygamy and the way men use religious tradition to gratify and justify their desires. The two women manage the problem differently, but both respect the others choices. Ba sets out the situation of the married women very clearly;
“This is the moment dreaded by every Senegalese woman, the moment when she sacrifices her possessions as gifts to her family-in-law; and worse still, beyond her possessions she gives up her personality, her dignity, becoming a thing in the service of the man who has married her, his grandfather, his grandmother, his father, his mother, his brother, his sister, his uncle, his aunt, his male and female cousins, his friends. Her behaviour is conditioned: no sister-in-law will touch the head of any wife who has been stingy, unfaithful or inhospitable.”
She clearly explained the effects of betrayal on Ramatoulaye and her children and explores the difficulties women can have. The end of the letter focusses more on the next generation and the way Ramatoulaye manages the tensions of a new generation with different expectations. Ba also focuses on how the traditional cycle can change and be broken, but in a way that reflects her own culture rather than importing western solutions.
Ba also points to the importance of education to women; note this passage which speaks of Aissatou’s progress;
“The power of books, this marvelous invention of astute human intelligence. Various signs associated with sound: different sounds that form the word. Juxtaposition of words from which springs the idea. Though, History, Science, Life, Sole instrument of interrelationships and of culture, unparalleled means of giving and receiving. Books knit generations together in the same continuing effort that leads to progress. They enabled you to better yourself. What society refused you, they granted: examination sat and passed took you also to France. The School of Interpreters, from which you graduated, led to your appointment into the Senegalese Embassy in the United States. You make a very good living. You are developing in peace, as your letters tell me, your back resolutely turned on those seeking light enjoyment and easy relationships.”
There is an interesting juxtaposition here. The letter progresses from colonial to post-colonial times and Ba notes how for women to progress they to access education and there is a similar movement from oppression and towards freedom.
The novella could easily be read in one sitting, it is full of human warmth and wisdom and well worth taking time to read.
Ba is also analysing polygamy and the way men use religious tradition to gratify and justify their desires. The two women manage the problem differently, but both respect the others choices. Ba sets out the situation of the married women very clearly;
“This is the moment dreaded by every Senegalese woman, the moment when she sacrifices her possessions as gifts to her family-in-law; and worse still, beyond her possessions she gives up her personality, her dignity, becoming a thing in the service of the man who has married her, his grandfather, his grandmother, his father, his mother, his brother, his sister, his uncle, his aunt, his male and female cousins, his friends. Her behaviour is conditioned: no sister-in-law will touch the head of any wife who has been stingy, unfaithful or inhospitable.”
She clearly explained the effects of betrayal on Ramatoulaye and her children and explores the difficulties women can have. The end of the letter focusses more on the next generation and the way Ramatoulaye manages the tensions of a new generation with different expectations. Ba also focuses on how the traditional cycle can change and be broken, but in a way that reflects her own culture rather than importing western solutions.
Ba also points to the importance of education to women; note this passage which speaks of Aissatou’s progress;
“The power of books, this marvelous invention of astute human intelligence. Various signs associated with sound: different sounds that form the word. Juxtaposition of words from which springs the idea. Though, History, Science, Life, Sole instrument of interrelationships and of culture, unparalleled means of giving and receiving. Books knit generations together in the same continuing effort that leads to progress. They enabled you to better yourself. What society refused you, they granted: examination sat and passed took you also to France. The School of Interpreters, from which you graduated, led to your appointment into the Senegalese Embassy in the United States. You make a very good living. You are developing in peace, as your letters tell me, your back resolutely turned on those seeking light enjoyment and easy relationships.”
There is an interesting juxtaposition here. The letter progresses from colonial to post-colonial times and Ba notes how for women to progress they to access education and there is a similar movement from oppression and towards freedom.
The novella could easily be read in one sitting, it is full of human warmth and wisdom and well worth taking time to read.
March 7, 2021
This book has been on my radar for quite some time. It is hailed as one of the most important feminists texts in the African literary canon. So Long a Letter is an epistolary novel originally written in French by the Senegalese writer Mariama Bâ. It deals with the condition of women in Senegalese society with a focus on the effects that polygamy has on them.
It is a letter that Ramatoulaye Fall, a recently widowed Senegalese woman, writes to her lifelong friend Aïssatou Bâ. She writes of her husband's sudden death (he had a heart attack) and recounts the major events of their life together. The letter is written while Ramatoulaye is going through Iddah, a four month and ten day-long mourning process that Muslim widows in Senegalese culture must follow.
In the letters, Ramatoulaye reflects on how she emotionally dealt with and was changed by her husband's betrayal, his death, and by being a single mother of many. Aïssatou seems like the perfect addressee for Ramatoulaye's woes since she experienced a similar martial situation, albeit she left her husband and chose to live on her own after he took up a second wife.
On top of discussing the difficulties that polygamous relationships place on women in Senegalese society, Ramatoulaye also touches upon the topics of Senegalese class hierarchy, religion (particularly the role of women in Islam) and feminism.
Therefore, the book can also be seen as a challenge to colonialism while also acknowledging colonial practices at the same time, as Ramatoulaye asserts her rights and insists on being heard and no longer silenced. In the letters, the tensions between Ramatoulaye's feminist values (developed largely as a consequence of her French colonial education) and her religion, which is often used a means of justifying the mistreatment of women like herself, is explored. However, Ramatoulaye attributes the mistreatment of women by men to the misinterpretation and misappropriation of Islamic scriptures, rather than suggesting that the scriptures are inherently sexist.
Personally, I really liked this book. I loved its clear feminist message, appreciated the beautiful writing style and connected to the strong women that this narrative presented. I was surprised by how easily I was able to connect to Ramatoulaye. Even though her situation couldn't have been different from my own, I immediately felt connected to her and her struggles.
Ramatoulaye also reflects on why she wasn't strong enough to leave her husband when he presented her with his decision to take a second wife after 25 years of marriage. Back then, she didn't feel like she had enough strength to bear the weight of this moral as well as material (financial) responsibility by herself. Mariama Bâ shows how women are trapped in polygamous relationships because it is harder for them to live independently on their own, especially if they have to support many children.
And that's where Ramatoulaye's beautiful friendship to Aissatou comes in to play. My God, these two women. They're among my favorite literary friendships of all time. In the book, Mariama Bâ shows how much strength the two got from each other. In a way, So Long a Letter is a love letter to friendship, to the very special bond that women can share.
The significance of Aïssatou's actions – a woman starting over on her own – can be felt throughout all the letters. Her divorce is symbolic because it represented a new life for her. Therefore, it isn't surprising that Daba, Ramatoulaye's daughter, sees Aïssatou as a sort of role model. When Daba learns that her father took a second wife, she pleads with Ramatoulaye to leave him. She tells her that she should and can leave him just like Aïssatou left her husband.
For me, it was beautiful to see how much Ramatoulaye grew after her husband's death and that she was able to speak her truth and assert her own power. After her husband's death, two men propose to her and Ramatoulaye is able to turn both of them down. It is one of the most powerful moments in the narrative when she reprimands her relatives who want to pressure her into a new marriage:
In regards to its feminist themes, I also appreciated how proud Ramatoulaye was of being a mother. Raising children is something that in most society, also in the West, isn't appreciated as much as it should be. Therefore, it was great to see how proud Ramatoulaye was of loving her twelve children unconditionally and providing for them, even through hardships such as the early pregnancy of her 16-year-old daughter.
The only criticism I have of the book is the fact that oftentimes the second wives, Binetou ("rival" of Ramatoulaye and second wife to Modou) and Nabob ("rival" of Aissatou and second wife to Mawdo) were put down. It diminished the feminist message in parts as these women were pitted against each other. It left a bad taste in my mouth that Binetou and Nabou had almost no agency and were described as never being able to be as good as the first wives of these men. Nabou is even referred to as a "chore" to her husband, while Binetou is almost slut-shamed as Ramatoulaye judges her from "going from night club to night club" and marrying a "sugar daddy". It was weird to me that the plight of these so-called second wives was never explored. They suffer as much from a sexist society as all these other women. And it is clearly shown that both Nabou and Binetou were influenced by their communities and that they were driven out of different hardships into these marriages (e.g. in order to escape poverty).
This criticism makes it impossible for me to rate this book five stars but apart from it, it is an incredibly interesting and well fleshed out novel that more people should read!
It is a letter that Ramatoulaye Fall, a recently widowed Senegalese woman, writes to her lifelong friend Aïssatou Bâ. She writes of her husband's sudden death (he had a heart attack) and recounts the major events of their life together. The letter is written while Ramatoulaye is going through Iddah, a four month and ten day-long mourning process that Muslim widows in Senegalese culture must follow.
And to say that I loved this man passionately, to say that I devoted thirty years of my life to him, to say that I bore his child twelve times. The addition of a rival to my life was not enough for him. By loving another, he burned his past morally and materially, he dared to deny it ... and yet. And yet, what has he done to make me his wife!In the first few letters, Ramatoulaye recalls and describes the emotions that flooded her during the first few days after her husband's death. Then, she transitions in tone and time by discussing the life she had with her husband, from the beginning of their relationship to his betrayal of a thirty year marriage by secretly marrying his daughter's school best friend Binetou and starting a new family with her.
In the letters, Ramatoulaye reflects on how she emotionally dealt with and was changed by her husband's betrayal, his death, and by being a single mother of many. Aïssatou seems like the perfect addressee for Ramatoulaye's woes since she experienced a similar martial situation, albeit she left her husband and chose to live on her own after he took up a second wife.
On top of discussing the difficulties that polygamous relationships place on women in Senegalese society, Ramatoulaye also touches upon the topics of Senegalese class hierarchy, religion (particularly the role of women in Islam) and feminism.
Therefore, the book can also be seen as a challenge to colonialism while also acknowledging colonial practices at the same time, as Ramatoulaye asserts her rights and insists on being heard and no longer silenced. In the letters, the tensions between Ramatoulaye's feminist values (developed largely as a consequence of her French colonial education) and her religion, which is often used a means of justifying the mistreatment of women like herself, is explored. However, Ramatoulaye attributes the mistreatment of women by men to the misinterpretation and misappropriation of Islamic scriptures, rather than suggesting that the scriptures are inherently sexist.
Personally, I really liked this book. I loved its clear feminist message, appreciated the beautiful writing style and connected to the strong women that this narrative presented. I was surprised by how easily I was able to connect to Ramatoulaye. Even though her situation couldn't have been different from my own, I immediately felt connected to her and her struggles.
I survived. I overcame my shyness at going alone to cinemas; I would take a seat with less and less embarrassment as the months went by. People stared at the middle-aged lady without a partner. I would feign indifference, while anger hammered against by nerves and the tears I held back welled behind my eyes. From the surprised looks, I gauged the slender liberty granted to women.Mariama Bâ managed to make her characters come to life. This is not a suger-coated narrative. It's very real and raw and brutally honest. Ramatoulaye who, after her husband's betrayal, after he literally "forgot" about his first wife and children, had to emancipate herself. There was no other choice for her. She had to live as if she was on her own. Her husband no longer supported her and no longer showed any affection for her. Therefore, she had to become independent. The way Ramatoulaye reflects this process is so interesting because she's so honest. On the one hand, she found a lot of joy and purpose in her new-found freedom. On the other hand, she admits that she also feels extremely lonely, resentful and discouraged. It is as if "an immense sadness breaks within" her.
Ramatoulaye also reflects on why she wasn't strong enough to leave her husband when he presented her with his decision to take a second wife after 25 years of marriage. Back then, she didn't feel like she had enough strength to bear the weight of this moral as well as material (financial) responsibility by herself. Mariama Bâ shows how women are trapped in polygamous relationships because it is harder for them to live independently on their own, especially if they have to support many children.
And that's where Ramatoulaye's beautiful friendship to Aissatou comes in to play. My God, these two women. They're among my favorite literary friendships of all time. In the book, Mariama Bâ shows how much strength the two got from each other. In a way, So Long a Letter is a love letter to friendship, to the very special bond that women can share.
Friendship has splendors that love knows not. It grows stronger when crossed, whereas obstacles kill love. Friendship resists time, which wearies and severs couples. It has heights unknown to love.Aïssatou was one of my favorite characters in this book. She is the one who divorced her husband Mawdo because she did not believe in polygamy. In a scathing letter to him, she explained her actions and never looked back. [That letter, man, I was hollering. She ends it with the words: "I strip myself of your love, of your name. Clothed in the only worthy garment of dignity, I go on my way. Farewell, Aissatou."] She is able to take care of herself and is off well enough that she was also able to buy Ramatoulaye a car, after Modou betrayed her, to make her life much easier.
The significance of Aïssatou's actions – a woman starting over on her own – can be felt throughout all the letters. Her divorce is symbolic because it represented a new life for her. Therefore, it isn't surprising that Daba, Ramatoulaye's daughter, sees Aïssatou as a sort of role model. When Daba learns that her father took a second wife, she pleads with Ramatoulaye to leave him. She tells her that she should and can leave him just like Aïssatou left her husband.
For me, it was beautiful to see how much Ramatoulaye grew after her husband's death and that she was able to speak her truth and assert her own power. After her husband's death, two men propose to her and Ramatoulaye is able to turn both of them down. It is one of the most powerful moments in the narrative when she reprimands her relatives who want to pressure her into a new marriage:
This time I will speak. My voice has known thirty years of silence, thirty years of harassment. It bursts out, violent, sometimes sarcastic, sometimes contemptuous.It is good to see Ramatoulaye so self-determined. She has given herself a voice, moved herself from the margins to the centre. Overall, the novel has quite the positive outlook as Ramatoulaye cherishes her daughters healthy marriage to a man who respects her as a woman and doesn't view her as a "slave" but rather his equal.
In regards to its feminist themes, I also appreciated how proud Ramatoulaye was of being a mother. Raising children is something that in most society, also in the West, isn't appreciated as much as it should be. Therefore, it was great to see how proud Ramatoulaye was of loving her twelve children unconditionally and providing for them, even through hardships such as the early pregnancy of her 16-year-old daughter.
The only criticism I have of the book is the fact that oftentimes the second wives, Binetou ("rival" of Ramatoulaye and second wife to Modou) and Nabob ("rival" of Aissatou and second wife to Mawdo) were put down. It diminished the feminist message in parts as these women were pitted against each other. It left a bad taste in my mouth that Binetou and Nabou had almost no agency and were described as never being able to be as good as the first wives of these men. Nabou is even referred to as a "chore" to her husband, while Binetou is almost slut-shamed as Ramatoulaye judges her from "going from night club to night club" and marrying a "sugar daddy". It was weird to me that the plight of these so-called second wives was never explored. They suffer as much from a sexist society as all these other women. And it is clearly shown that both Nabou and Binetou were influenced by their communities and that they were driven out of different hardships into these marriages (e.g. in order to escape poverty).
This criticism makes it impossible for me to rate this book five stars but apart from it, it is an incredibly interesting and well fleshed out novel that more people should read!
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January 8, 2023رسالة توجهها الأرملة " راماتولاي " إلى صديقتها " عيساتو " أثناء فترة الحداد ، لقد كانت رسالة طويلة جداً بطول قصة أي امرأة...فالمرأة قصتها واحدة في هذا العالم...
يأتيك صوت الراوية الأنثوي يناهض من اجل الخروج من الظل...
لقد هجرها زوجها بعد خمس وعشرين عاماً قد كرستها للحب والعطاء ، لكي يتزوج من فتاة شابة في سن ابنته ، وقد ترك وراءه أثنى عشر طفلاً...لا تندهش مثلما فعلت يبدو أن هذا العدد عادي في السنغال...
ولن يفلتك هذا الهجران دون التساؤل عن حال المرأة المهجورة كيف لها أن تتحمل المهام المادية والتربوية لصغارها ، فكانت الإجابة بنبرات صوتها الواهنة يتقاطع مع وقفات من التمرد والسخط أمام قيود الأعراف ، وما احزنني أن هناك تناول لحكم الشرع بتعدد الزوجات بصورة خاطئة لا تفي بالشروط التى تلزم العدل والإنصاف...
الرجل يتجاهل كل شيء عند الانصياع وراء غريزة الشهوانية والتوهم بإستعادة الشباب بالزواج من فتاة شابة ، بينما تموت روح الشابة في عبائته...
هنا حال النساء المهجورات والمُطلقات وهنّ يعشن الأمال المحطمة والأحلام المُجهضة ...
عن صديقة كانت تملك من الشجاعة بعد انفصالها عن زوجها لتبدأ من جديد دون أن تلتفت وراءها ، ومساندتها لصديقتها كانت عظيمة تعجز أمامها الكلمات....
عن روابط الصداقة التي تعززها الذكريات والمواقف ، وبمرور الزمن تزداد إحكاماً...
هنا صوت يقدم عزاء لمكانة المرأة في مجتمع لا يعترف بها في الأماكن الهامة بالدولة ، كاختراق العمل السياسي على سبيل المثال ، وبصراحة أنا لست ممن يُناصر الحركات النسوية....، فالمرأة انسان لديها إمكانيات وقدرات عليها أن تضعها في أماكنها الصحيحة . نقطة وانتهينا من الجدال....
وقد تطرقت إلى الحديث عن طغيان الحداثة برذائلها وهو يجتاح التقاليد وأصالتها....
أخيراً ...هنا محاولة لتجميع كل اللحظات المفقودة تلك التي تشكل حياة...حياة سردها صوت امرأة في رسالة طويلة جداً......
الصداقة لها عظمة لا يعرفها الحب ، فهى تزداد قوة في الصعوبات بينما تغتال الصعوبات الحب....
يأتيك صوت الراوية الأنثوي يناهض من اجل الخروج من الظل...
لقد هجرها زوجها بعد خمس وعشرين عاماً قد كرستها للحب والعطاء ، لكي يتزوج من فتاة شابة في سن ابنته ، وقد ترك وراءه أثنى عشر طفلاً...لا تندهش مثلما فعلت يبدو أن هذا العدد عادي في السنغال...
ولن يفلتك هذا الهجران دون التساؤل عن حال المرأة المهجورة كيف لها أن تتحمل المهام المادية والتربوية لصغارها ، فكانت الإجابة بنبرات صوتها الواهنة يتقاطع مع وقفات من التمرد والسخط أمام قيود الأعراف ، وما احزنني أن هناك تناول لحكم الشرع بتعدد الزوجات بصورة خاطئة لا تفي بالشروط التى تلزم العدل والإنصاف...
الرجل يتجاهل كل شيء عند الانصياع وراء غريزة الشهوانية والتوهم بإستعادة الشباب بالزواج من فتاة شابة ، بينما تموت روح الشابة في عبائته...
هنا حال النساء المهجورات والمُطلقات وهنّ يعشن الأمال المحطمة والأحلام المُجهضة ...
عن صديقة كانت تملك من الشجاعة بعد انفصالها عن زوجها لتبدأ من جديد دون أن تلتفت وراءها ، ومساندتها لصديقتها كانت عظيمة تعجز أمامها الكلمات....
عن روابط الصداقة التي تعززها الذكريات والمواقف ، وبمرور الزمن تزداد إحكاماً...
هنا صوت يقدم عزاء لمكانة المرأة في مجتمع لا يعترف بها في الأماكن الهامة بالدولة ، كاختراق العمل السياسي على سبيل المثال ، وبصراحة أنا لست ممن يُناصر الحركات النسوية....، فالمرأة انسان لديها إمكانيات وقدرات عليها أن تضعها في أماكنها الصحيحة . نقطة وانتهينا من الجدال....
وقد تطرقت إلى الحديث عن طغيان الحداثة برذائلها وهو يجتاح التقاليد وأصالتها....
أخيراً ...هنا محاولة لتجميع كل اللحظات المفقودة تلك التي تشكل حياة...حياة سردها صوت امرأة في رسالة طويلة جداً......
الصداقة لها عظمة لا يعرفها الحب ، فهى تزداد قوة في الصعوبات بينما تغتال الصعوبات الحب....
April 27, 2016
Each profession, intellectual or manual, deserves consideration, whether it requires painful physical effort or manual dexterity, wide knowledge or the patience of an ant. Ours, like that of a doctor, does not allow for any mistake. You don't joke with life, and life is both body and mind. To warp a soul is as much a sacrilege as murder.A comparison to Sleepless Nights is not too far apace, for what is more familiar of the epistolary form is counterbalanced by a less novelized perspective, expanding that much often abused 'difficult' to include a reader's blinkers with the usual linguistic fireworks. There is also the saturation to consider; ninety pages of pedagogy, politics, much maligned Islam and a little less so emotional turmoil, complete with footnotes to account for the barriers of language, culture, skin and gender.
In this, one must consider all the works of this country and continent that did not make it to the lists of 500 GBBW, 1001, all those one will never know on what schemes of quality they fell short. The best of the best of the best are the only ones fit for global perusal, perhaps, but the childhood favorites? The soap opera pleasures? The quick and easy casual reading that says much more of a writer who reads them than the factory produced lists of classics, enough to necessitate a covering with 'guilt'? I wonder, sometimes, what works the elite of Senegal scoff at, which ones they covet with false delight, what familiar lines of public engagement with literature I see only in the Anglo world and am missing everywhere else.
In short, what works did Bâ grow up on that are not proclaimed everywhere else? I read a piece like hers that pulls out from my subconscious names like Woolf and Evans (Eliot for those who have not yet caught up) and wonder whether I am understanding the inspired or translating a familiar breed of inspiration. Perhaps it is because this work has less of fellow Senegalese lit God's Bits of Wood's preoccupation with what is Euro and what is self, but when one searches a rare combination of demographic and finds a love, one must not be content with a lone mascot. It does a disservice to literature to treat with it as a fill-in-the-blank, rather than a living entity that existed long before you and will continue long after you're gone.
I see I've gone and not talked much about this work I say is amazing. Well, the prose is beauteous, the plot treats with an entirety of life probed in a delightfully full and empathetic manner, intellect couples wondrously with love, different choices of life do not feel the need to compete with the other, the old is there and is understood, the new is there and adapted to, pain heals slow and sure and friendship is raised to the heights it deserves. A personal bonus was the Muslim feminism that the temper of these times call for so desperately along with so many other categories of the written word, but I've spent enough time on the quagmires of representation. For more practical folk, this is rather short and super cheap a tome, so without reservations, experience away.
The power of books, this marvelous invention of astute human intelligence. Various signs associated with sound: different sounds that form the word. Juxtaposition of words from which springs the idea, Thought, History, Science, Life. Sole instrument of interrelationships and of culture, unparalleled means of giving and receiving. Books knit generations together in the same continuing effort that leads to progress. They enabled you to better yourself.
August 9, 2021
Update 9th Aug 2021:
Some years since I last read this book, still a great book and more than deserving of its place as an African and feminist classic. Reading through my initial review after this long I couldn't help but cringe and wince at certain points. I was certainly co-optative in certain ways as I used some ideas from this book to try and resolve the conflicts I had been dealing with at the time I read this, and was tempted to remove it in favour of a new review altogether. But then I thought that it is very possible that I might also want to write another review to replace that one if I ever re-read this again in the future, constant self-editing and obsessing does nothing but stagnate. That said as I leave this part as an update, reading through this was as wonderful as I remembered. And that last quote remains as brilliant as I first read it: "The word 'happiness' does indeed have meaning, doesn't it? I shall go out in search of it."
*************
What does one do when one feels the pressure of culture and religion weighing down on you? How does one find solace?
Ramatoulaye, writes a long letter to her friend Aissatou, reminding her (and herself) of their maiden days, married days, of their shared joys and pains while narrating her own troubles and triumphs.
The recounting of Ramatoulaye's journey to healing and liberation is nothing less than moving. Faced with the humiliation of her husband's betrayal by finding another wife, she remains bold and doesn't bend nor bow to anyone's demands.
"To overcome my bitterness, I think of human destiny. Each life has it's share of heroism, an obscure heroism, born of abdication, of renunciation and acceptance under the merciless whip of fate."
Mariama Bâ also brings an important issue, to which as an African and a gay individual I can relate to. Can modernism and culture blend and co-exist? Can we learn from different cultures other than our own and still keep our own intact? Can one still be proud of one's culture when they go against some of the norms and preconceived notions of what a woman's place is in the society?
She answers the question in only the profound and wise manner that echoes throughout her short but thorough book: "To lift us out of the bog of tradition, superstition and custom, to make us appreciate a multitude of civilizations without renouncing our own, to raise our vision of the world, cultivate our personalities, strengthen our qualities, to make up our inadequacies, to develop universal moral values in us..."
Mariama arises as a powerful voice challenging, demanding. A rare voice in African literature in the 80s, a period when not many women in the African landscape were asking as many questions or questioning the position of the African woman in both society and politics.
From describing beautiful sceneries of their youth to Ramatoulaye's day-to-day activities as a single mother, Mariama Bâ constructs a beautiful setting of pre and post independence Senegal, with all it's problems, hopes, conflict, culture, beauty and all in a 90 page book, exquisitely written.
Some years since I last read this book, still a great book and more than deserving of its place as an African and feminist classic. Reading through my initial review after this long I couldn't help but cringe and wince at certain points. I was certainly co-optative in certain ways as I used some ideas from this book to try and resolve the conflicts I had been dealing with at the time I read this, and was tempted to remove it in favour of a new review altogether. But then I thought that it is very possible that I might also want to write another review to replace that one if I ever re-read this again in the future, constant self-editing and obsessing does nothing but stagnate. That said as I leave this part as an update, reading through this was as wonderful as I remembered. And that last quote remains as brilliant as I first read it: "The word 'happiness' does indeed have meaning, doesn't it? I shall go out in search of it."
*************
What does one do when one feels the pressure of culture and religion weighing down on you? How does one find solace?
Ramatoulaye, writes a long letter to her friend Aissatou, reminding her (and herself) of their maiden days, married days, of their shared joys and pains while narrating her own troubles and triumphs.
The recounting of Ramatoulaye's journey to healing and liberation is nothing less than moving. Faced with the humiliation of her husband's betrayal by finding another wife, she remains bold and doesn't bend nor bow to anyone's demands.
"To overcome my bitterness, I think of human destiny. Each life has it's share of heroism, an obscure heroism, born of abdication, of renunciation and acceptance under the merciless whip of fate."
Mariama Bâ also brings an important issue, to which as an African and a gay individual I can relate to. Can modernism and culture blend and co-exist? Can we learn from different cultures other than our own and still keep our own intact? Can one still be proud of one's culture when they go against some of the norms and preconceived notions of what a woman's place is in the society?
She answers the question in only the profound and wise manner that echoes throughout her short but thorough book: "To lift us out of the bog of tradition, superstition and custom, to make us appreciate a multitude of civilizations without renouncing our own, to raise our vision of the world, cultivate our personalities, strengthen our qualities, to make up our inadequacies, to develop universal moral values in us..."
Mariama arises as a powerful voice challenging, demanding. A rare voice in African literature in the 80s, a period when not many women in the African landscape were asking as many questions or questioning the position of the African woman in both society and politics.
From describing beautiful sceneries of their youth to Ramatoulaye's day-to-day activities as a single mother, Mariama Bâ constructs a beautiful setting of pre and post independence Senegal, with all it's problems, hopes, conflict, culture, beauty and all in a 90 page book, exquisitely written.
May 29, 2016
Mariama Ba has crammed into less than one hundred pages a luminously beautiful reflection of an intelligent, wilful, self-assured middle-aged woman painfully conscious of the limits of her power in a patriarchal society, that is also a hymn to the glory of friendship between women and to the strength, courage, imagination, tenderness and sensuality of women as whole human beings interconnected to lovers, children, family members and friends.
The language is elegant, fragrant of the rich, ringing tones and delicate formality of French. Ramatoulaye comes across as educated, forceful, passionate yet self-controlled. The strength and depth of her character are what make this so essential in my opinion, it is her voice, sounding out with her whole, mature, self-knowing being behind it, adding to its resonance. He who scorns her or seeks to dominate her can only be held in contempt. A practising Muslim, accomplished and successful professional, loving wife, attentive mother, Ramatoulaye is irreproachable by the criteria of her culture’s values, even as they are swirled into the maelstrom of (de)colonisation and modernity. Readers might object that she is just too perfect a character, but her ability to analyse, critique and narrate her situation and make choices against the grain is a radiant contrast with the images of women as hapless or helpless victims in so much literature.
The language is elegant, fragrant of the rich, ringing tones and delicate formality of French. Ramatoulaye comes across as educated, forceful, passionate yet self-controlled. The strength and depth of her character are what make this so essential in my opinion, it is her voice, sounding out with her whole, mature, self-knowing being behind it, adding to its resonance. He who scorns her or seeks to dominate her can only be held in contempt. A practising Muslim, accomplished and successful professional, loving wife, attentive mother, Ramatoulaye is irreproachable by the criteria of her culture’s values, even as they are swirled into the maelstrom of (de)colonisation and modernity. Readers might object that she is just too perfect a character, but her ability to analyse, critique and narrate her situation and make choices against the grain is a radiant contrast with the images of women as hapless or helpless victims in so much literature.
February 11, 2020
Narrator Ramatoulaye's story, could, with a couple of tweaks, be the subject of a thread on Mumsnet or a similar forum frequented by middle-aged women. 'OMG my husband remortgaged our house to get flats for his younger girlfriend and her mum, and now he's died.' (Only in the novel, it's beautifully written.) In the story it may be polygamy the narrator is unhappy about in 1970s Senegal rather than separation or a mistress, but there is more similarity and relatability than the old fashioned and Othery presentation of some editions of the novel might imply. Besides, in the West at that time - probably even more so in France than in the UK or North America - women were commonly expected to turn a blind eye to male philandering and not get too upset about it.
The cover and blurb of common English editions - the UK ones and the Goodreads default - give an impression to the Western reader of something Other and abject: a "struggle for survival", a woman kneeling in a desert, looking miserable. This US edition is better, the flag showing it's a state-of-the-nation novel, and the wing conveying national independence, women's liberation, the sense of new beginnings, progress and hope.
It's a novella - under 100 pages in many editions - about professional middle-class people: the narrator is a teacher (as was the author herself), her late husband was a senior civil servant. She addresses the 'letters' of the novel to her best friend Aïssatou (not letters qua letters, but a format that also addresses an audience as well as her friend, explaining things they both know - as would a speech at a party or family occasion, and some other types of literary 'letter' created for publication). Aïssatou is an interpreter who's gone to work abroad, and *her* ex-husband was a hospital doctor. There is a lot of reflection on women's lib - as it was then called - as in European and American feminist novels of the mid-1960s to 1980s. (It would be interesting to see what parallels there are between de Beauvoir's The Second Sex and So Long a Letter; presumably de Beauvoir would have been more widely read in Francophone Senegal than US 1970s feminists; but I have never finished The Second Sex to be able to make this comparison myself.) Ramatoulaye is a modern, educated woman who wants her daughters to study and work, but around her are other women still happy to take advantage of patriarchal habits for financial gain, and men who, for the most part, expect women to do as much at home as they did before they went out to work. Men who agree with feminism, like a member of parliament the narrator knows, are on some level welcome, but on another also frustrating, because they are still hogging power and benefiting from tradition.
The novel has a scope extending beyond the feminist personal as political. It can be seen as part of a tradition of French socio-political novels like Balzac and Zola, as hinted here. There is much in the book about the New Africa, countries in the decades immediately after independence, and the hopes of national improvement and advancement held by people like the narrator and her circle. I should do some reading and research on this, but I found the narrator's feelings about Westernisation a surprising contrast after reading contemporary material online by indigenous activists (North America and Australia/NZ), about how much had been lost because of colonisers, in traditional ways of being, learning and organising society. This is probably comparing apples and oranges, not simply about a changing focus of activism and scholarship over 40 years. (Interested in opinions and links about this from anyone better informed who is reading this post.) Ramatoulaye sees hope, especially for women and girls, and for society in general, in adopting West European-style education and political and social structures as much as possible now that the French have left. The French colonisers othered the locals as backward, and now the educated middle class of the independent nation are determined to show that their country can be equal to Europeans. This was written several years before the publication of Ngũgĩ wa Thiong'o's book Decolonizing the Mind, and long before that idea in a larger sense became widely talked about, as it has been increasingly in the last few years.
I was also surprised so many readers find this book primarily sad. (Especially people who are young and have not experienced being widowed, which would bring different resonances to the reading.) I read it instead as someone realising she finds life easier without a husband, and mourning is part of that process. Bittersweet? (A 2010 academic paper suggests parallels between Ramatoulaye's grief and a societal grief for "social and cultural losses involved in urbanisation". But the narrator is optimistic for the future of her family and country. She has not had to think about the impact of climate change in that part of the world as her counterparts 40 years later might, and the novel pre-dates many of the famines and wars in Africa that were to make headlines abroad in the 1980s (though of course the war and politically-induced famine in Biafra were only ten years earlier). Again, would love to hear perspectives from people who [have] live[d] in West Africa on how this book seems in the context of modern history as seen locally, as my research so far has not turned up any articles from the region that look at this aspect of the novel.
(Read & reviewed Feb 2020. Group read for the 100 Best Women in Translation group.)
The cover and blurb of common English editions - the UK ones and the Goodreads default - give an impression to the Western reader of something Other and abject: a "struggle for survival", a woman kneeling in a desert, looking miserable. This US edition is better, the flag showing it's a state-of-the-nation novel, and the wing conveying national independence, women's liberation, the sense of new beginnings, progress and hope.
It's a novella - under 100 pages in many editions - about professional middle-class people: the narrator is a teacher (as was the author herself), her late husband was a senior civil servant. She addresses the 'letters' of the novel to her best friend Aïssatou (not letters qua letters, but a format that also addresses an audience as well as her friend, explaining things they both know - as would a speech at a party or family occasion, and some other types of literary 'letter' created for publication). Aïssatou is an interpreter who's gone to work abroad, and *her* ex-husband was a hospital doctor. There is a lot of reflection on women's lib - as it was then called - as in European and American feminist novels of the mid-1960s to 1980s. (It would be interesting to see what parallels there are between de Beauvoir's The Second Sex and So Long a Letter; presumably de Beauvoir would have been more widely read in Francophone Senegal than US 1970s feminists; but I have never finished The Second Sex to be able to make this comparison myself.) Ramatoulaye is a modern, educated woman who wants her daughters to study and work, but around her are other women still happy to take advantage of patriarchal habits for financial gain, and men who, for the most part, expect women to do as much at home as they did before they went out to work. Men who agree with feminism, like a member of parliament the narrator knows, are on some level welcome, but on another also frustrating, because they are still hogging power and benefiting from tradition.
The novel has a scope extending beyond the feminist personal as political. It can be seen as part of a tradition of French socio-political novels like Balzac and Zola, as hinted here. There is much in the book about the New Africa, countries in the decades immediately after independence, and the hopes of national improvement and advancement held by people like the narrator and her circle. I should do some reading and research on this, but I found the narrator's feelings about Westernisation a surprising contrast after reading contemporary material online by indigenous activists (North America and Australia/NZ), about how much had been lost because of colonisers, in traditional ways of being, learning and organising society. This is probably comparing apples and oranges, not simply about a changing focus of activism and scholarship over 40 years. (Interested in opinions and links about this from anyone better informed who is reading this post.) Ramatoulaye sees hope, especially for women and girls, and for society in general, in adopting West European-style education and political and social structures as much as possible now that the French have left. The French colonisers othered the locals as backward, and now the educated middle class of the independent nation are determined to show that their country can be equal to Europeans. This was written several years before the publication of Ngũgĩ wa Thiong'o's book Decolonizing the Mind, and long before that idea in a larger sense became widely talked about, as it has been increasingly in the last few years.
I was also surprised so many readers find this book primarily sad. (Especially people who are young and have not experienced being widowed, which would bring different resonances to the reading.) I read it instead as someone realising she finds life easier without a husband, and mourning is part of that process. Bittersweet? (A 2010 academic paper suggests parallels between Ramatoulaye's grief and a societal grief for "social and cultural losses involved in urbanisation". But the narrator is optimistic for the future of her family and country. She has not had to think about the impact of climate change in that part of the world as her counterparts 40 years later might, and the novel pre-dates many of the famines and wars in Africa that were to make headlines abroad in the 1980s (though of course the war and politically-induced famine in Biafra were only ten years earlier). Again, would love to hear perspectives from people who [have] live[d] in West Africa on how this book seems in the context of modern history as seen locally, as my research so far has not turned up any articles from the region that look at this aspect of the novel.
(Read & reviewed Feb 2020. Group read for the 100 Best Women in Translation group.)
October 29, 2016
If I'm being honest, I want to like this more than I do. And it's not the subject matter or prose, it's the orientation. There's an awkward angle I just can't shake.
Let me explain.
This novella is in epistolary form: a long letter from an aging widow (who is progressive by her society's normative standards, perhaps boldly and bravely so) to her great friend, Aissatou. Both women have been transformed by their husbands' decision to make them co-wives. Ramatoulaye, our heroine, recounts her struggles, and seems to gain strength as the novel-time progresses. She is not preachy or polemical. She emanates a solid core of determined self-respect whose authenticity provides the spongy outer layer which soaks up difficulties, insulating her from the criticism of her life-ways and decisions that are often at odds with her patriarchal society.
So what's wrong then?
Well, and I admit this may be a minor quibble, I guess I just wanted it to be better crafted. I kept looking for ways to justify awkward details in the letter (i.e. Ramatoulaye recounts details of her relationship with Aissatou that would be needless if the letter were truly written for her). By the end, it seems that there is almost a successful explanation: Ramatoulaye is writing, perhaps, a letter that is not meant to be delivered, a letter that is instead intended to fill out the days of her Mirasse (four month, ten day mourning-seclusion): a strictly personal catharsis with Aissatou functioning as muse only.
But I have to repeat, this is almost, but not quite enough to smooth out the awkwardness, the sense of awareness that certain choices to provide context imply that the author was writing for a wider reading public, rather than maintaining the conceit of the form.
You probably should judge for yourself. It's only about 90 pages that I certainly don't regret reading.
Let me explain.
This novella is in epistolary form: a long letter from an aging widow (who is progressive by her society's normative standards, perhaps boldly and bravely so) to her great friend, Aissatou. Both women have been transformed by their husbands' decision to make them co-wives. Ramatoulaye, our heroine, recounts her struggles, and seems to gain strength as the novel-time progresses. She is not preachy or polemical. She emanates a solid core of determined self-respect whose authenticity provides the spongy outer layer which soaks up difficulties, insulating her from the criticism of her life-ways and decisions that are often at odds with her patriarchal society.
So what's wrong then?
Well, and I admit this may be a minor quibble, I guess I just wanted it to be better crafted. I kept looking for ways to justify awkward details in the letter (i.e. Ramatoulaye recounts details of her relationship with Aissatou that would be needless if the letter were truly written for her). By the end, it seems that there is almost a successful explanation: Ramatoulaye is writing, perhaps, a letter that is not meant to be delivered, a letter that is instead intended to fill out the days of her Mirasse (four month, ten day mourning-seclusion): a strictly personal catharsis with Aissatou functioning as muse only.
But I have to repeat, this is almost, but not quite enough to smooth out the awkwardness, the sense of awareness that certain choices to provide context imply that the author was writing for a wider reading public, rather than maintaining the conceit of the form.
You probably should judge for yourself. It's only about 90 pages that I certainly don't regret reading.
April 28, 2013
Mariama Ba (1929-1982) was a Senegalese novelist, teacher, activist and feminist. During her lifetime she was only able to publish this book. Her two other works Scarlet Song and La Fonction politique des littératures africaines écrites came out after her death. This book, So Long a Letter, originally written in French, won the first Noma Prize for Publishing in Africa in 1980 and is now considered as one of Africa's 100 Best Books of the 20th Century.
The book is basically a long series of letters that a newly widowed woman, Ramatoulaye wrote to her friend Aissatou. The two women have basically different views on many things related to being a woman in Africa. For example, Ramatoulaye is the martyr-type as she tolerates that her philandering husband Modou Fall falls and marries a younger woman Binetou. Aissatou on the other hand, leaves her husband Mawdo the moment Aissatou learns that Mawdo has another woman. They are Muslims in Africa so it is allowed to have many wives and this, plus the many gender-discrimating issues, are what Mariama Ba fought when she was still on earth.
The book is written in an sad-outpouring-of-emotions kind of way. Ramatoulaye has just been widowed and her pain can be glimpsed from Ba's incandescent prose. It is like Ramatoulaye's reevaluation of her life as she is about to start a life without her husband that despite all his shortcomings, she misses. It tackles not only about their husband and wife relationship but also the place of African women in all the schemes of things. Through Ramatoulaye, Ba was able to state her case: that African women are still considered as the weaker sex and are still, sadly, tolerant to being secondary to men.
If the Britain has Charlotte Bronte, Virginia Woolf, Edith Warton and Angela Carter; France has Simone de Beauvoir; America has Alice Walker, Toni Morrison and Zora Neale Hurston; Africa, I would say has Mariama Ba.
They for me, are among the extremely talented female feminist novelists.
The book is basically a long series of letters that a newly widowed woman, Ramatoulaye wrote to her friend Aissatou. The two women have basically different views on many things related to being a woman in Africa. For example, Ramatoulaye is the martyr-type as she tolerates that her philandering husband Modou Fall falls and marries a younger woman Binetou. Aissatou on the other hand, leaves her husband Mawdo the moment Aissatou learns that Mawdo has another woman. They are Muslims in Africa so it is allowed to have many wives and this, plus the many gender-discrimating issues, are what Mariama Ba fought when she was still on earth.
The book is written in an sad-outpouring-of-emotions kind of way. Ramatoulaye has just been widowed and her pain can be glimpsed from Ba's incandescent prose. It is like Ramatoulaye's reevaluation of her life as she is about to start a life without her husband that despite all his shortcomings, she misses. It tackles not only about their husband and wife relationship but also the place of African women in all the schemes of things. Through Ramatoulaye, Ba was able to state her case: that African women are still considered as the weaker sex and are still, sadly, tolerant to being secondary to men.
If the Britain has Charlotte Bronte, Virginia Woolf, Edith Warton and Angela Carter; France has Simone de Beauvoir; America has Alice Walker, Toni Morrison and Zora Neale Hurston; Africa, I would say has Mariama Ba.
They for me, are among the extremely talented female feminist novelists.
April 27, 2021
Same rating this time around, because of the writing. Very poignant.
Interesting that I'm re-reading this at a time where I can deeply relate to Ramatoulaye & Daouda's situation - sad. My 1st reading of this classic was when I was a junior in college (2011 - 10 years ago!). At the time, I read this with a semi-heavy heart as well.
Senegalese patriarchy, Islam, the male ego, mid-life crisis, greed, loneliness, mother-daughter relationships, feminism, sisterhood, courage vs cowardice, poverty, modernity vs tradition, colonialism, death, misogyny and family customs take center stage in 'So Long a Letter.'
The only issue I had was Ramatoulaye's slight misogynistic views on women's sexuality and pleasure. It wasn't super surprised given the character's overall way of life and the setting/timing of the story, but I couldn’t help but feel those sentiments were Bâ's as well. But then I understand that those sentiments further showed how women of that time were grappling with the challenges modernity brought - seen especially in contrasting Dada and Ramatoulaye's realities with respect to marriage and gender roles.
Last but not least, I loooove how Ramatoulaye's mother judged her daughter's suiters by their teeth! Midline diastema (of Modou - the wide gap between his two upper incisors as a sign of 'the primacy of sensuality in the individual') versus closely set teeth (of Daouda - which won her mother's confidence). As a Dentist, this was super fascinating to me!
Interesting that I'm re-reading this at a time where I can deeply relate to Ramatoulaye & Daouda's situation - sad. My 1st reading of this classic was when I was a junior in college (2011 - 10 years ago!). At the time, I read this with a semi-heavy heart as well.
Senegalese patriarchy, Islam, the male ego, mid-life crisis, greed, loneliness, mother-daughter relationships, feminism, sisterhood, courage vs cowardice, poverty, modernity vs tradition, colonialism, death, misogyny and family customs take center stage in 'So Long a Letter.'
The only issue I had was Ramatoulaye's slight misogynistic views on women's sexuality and pleasure. It wasn't super surprised given the character's overall way of life and the setting/timing of the story, but I couldn’t help but feel those sentiments were Bâ's as well. But then I understand that those sentiments further showed how women of that time were grappling with the challenges modernity brought - seen especially in contrasting Dada and Ramatoulaye's realities with respect to marriage and gender roles.
Last but not least, I loooove how Ramatoulaye's mother judged her daughter's suiters by their teeth! Midline diastema (of Modou - the wide gap between his two upper incisors as a sign of 'the primacy of sensuality in the individual') versus closely set teeth (of Daouda - which won her mother's confidence). As a Dentist, this was super fascinating to me!
July 7, 2022
"And to think that I loved this man passionately, to think I gave him thirty years of my life, to think that twelve times over I carried his child. The addition of a rival to my life was not enough for him. In loving someone else, he burned his past, both morally and materialistically."
From SO LONG A LETTER by Mariama Bâ, translated from the French by Modupé Bodé-Thomas, 1980/1981.
#ReadtheWorld21 📍Senegal
Ramatoulaye writes a letter to her best friend Aissatou. Her husband Modou has just passed away, and she is in "iddat", the mourning period for Muslim widows. The book's short chapters signify the days Ramatoulaye writes this continuous letter - a letter of reminiscences - childhood memories of their friendship, meeting their husbands, births of children but also the daily activities, and the full details of her (late) husband's choice to take a younger second wife and leave her and their children a few years before his death.
In only 90 pages, Bâ constructs such a deep story of memory, societal constraints put upon women, but ultimately this is a story of a woman's enduring strength and determination.
📚 One of the most recognized Francophone African books in the 20th century, this is a wonderful read. I'm glad to have finally made the time to read this modern classic. I loved the progression of Ramatoulaye's voice, the epistolary narrative structure, and the feminist theme. Highly recommended.
From SO LONG A LETTER by Mariama Bâ, translated from the French by Modupé Bodé-Thomas, 1980/1981.
#ReadtheWorld21 📍Senegal
Ramatoulaye writes a letter to her best friend Aissatou. Her husband Modou has just passed away, and she is in "iddat", the mourning period for Muslim widows. The book's short chapters signify the days Ramatoulaye writes this continuous letter - a letter of reminiscences - childhood memories of their friendship, meeting their husbands, births of children but also the daily activities, and the full details of her (late) husband's choice to take a younger second wife and leave her and their children a few years before his death.
In only 90 pages, Bâ constructs such a deep story of memory, societal constraints put upon women, but ultimately this is a story of a woman's enduring strength and determination.
📚 One of the most recognized Francophone African books in the 20th century, this is a wonderful read. I'm glad to have finally made the time to read this modern classic. I loved the progression of Ramatoulaye's voice, the epistolary narrative structure, and the feminist theme. Highly recommended.
March 19, 2021
Mariama Ba, jedna od najistaknutijih književnica Senegala, zapadnoafričke zemlje u kojoj je trenutno svega nešto više od polovine stanovništva pismenom ceo život je insistirala da je pre svega učiteljica. I tu nije samo reč o skromnosti, već o pristupu svetu, na mnoge načine vidljivom u njenom epistolarnom romanu. I kao svaki dobar predavač, Mariama zna da ono što je predočeno kroz iskustvo, snažnije deluje od poučitelnog pametovanja. Kroz pismo kao ispovest, Mariama je pronašla dobar način da, govoreći o sudbini žene u porodičnom kontekstu (smrt muža, poligamija, vernost, rodbinski odnosi), promišlja o promenama prisutnim u čitavom društvu, od evropskog odevanja (nošenja tzv. „dvostrukih pantalona”, koje, kako pripovedni glas tvrdi, ne odgovaraju afričkim oblinama), do uspostavljanja parlamentalizma ili naziranja promena u senegalskom kastinskom sistemu. Mariama Ba ubedljivo pokazuje kako postkolonijalno iskustvo bubri u različitim upotrebama tiranije tradicije, gde je žena, u različitim instrumentalizacijama, razapeta kao roba od robovog roba. A često je najveća kolonija ne inostrana sila, već sama porodica. Ipak, na kraju iskrsava nada.
I da, u delu je spomenut instrument „kora”, koji je u fusnoti poređen sa guslama. To je šteta i nepravda prema kori, čiji je zvuk čaroban: končasto celestalan. Svaka čast guslama, ali poslušajte vi ovo:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fnNcN...
I da, u delu je spomenut instrument „kora”, koji je u fusnoti poređen sa guslama. To je šteta i nepravda prema kori, čiji je zvuk čaroban: končasto celestalan. Svaka čast guslama, ali poslušajte vi ovo:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fnNcN...
April 13, 2017
So long a letter is an intimate expose on Ramatoulaye's life as she writes a long letter to her life long friend, Aissatou. The two women have known since they were little girls and now with many children each, one is divorced and the other is a widow. The letter is written during the mourning period of passing of Ramatoulaye's husband. Being one of the co-wives, Ramatoulaye's situation in life is different from that of her friend. The two women see their lives, their future in a contrasting fashion; Aissatou has a more modern take on role of women in family and society while Ramatoulaye is conservative and understands the need for slow and progressive change. Ramatoulaye stays in marriage and believes in ideal romance. It's the primary difference between her and Aissatou who happens to be a divorcee. The belief system is ingrained by the cultural doctrines and Ramatoulaye struggles to rebel against the conformist society. She is a champion of education believing it to be the only tool for a woman for absolute liberation.
In less than hundred pages and Ramatoulaye fills it with politics, race, gender, culture, religion, education, marriage and a bit of Islam as well. The novella is a study of a culture not all that dissimilar from ours in a microscopic way.
In less than hundred pages and Ramatoulaye fills it with politics, race, gender, culture, religion, education, marriage and a bit of Islam as well. The novella is a study of a culture not all that dissimilar from ours in a microscopic way.
February 18, 2018
An excellent Sunday afternoon read and pertinent to much that is being written and read in the media under the banner of the silencing of women today.
This short, articulate novella is actually a conversation, or a lengthy letter from one widow to her best friend, whom she hasn't seen for some years, but who is arriving tomorrow.
Our recent widow is reflecting on how she is unable to detach from memories of better times in the past, during those 25 years where she was happily married and the only wife of her husband and the more bitter, heart-breaking recent years where she was abandoned by him for the best friend of her daughter, a young woman, who traded the magic of youth, for the allure of shiny things (with the exception of his silver grey streaks, which he in turn trades in for the black dye of those in denial of the ageing process).
By turn she expresses shock, outrage, anger, resentment, pity until it turns towards those she must continue to aid, her children, to those who have supported her, her friends, including this one about to arrive, and to thinking of the lot of all women.
It is a lament, a paradox of feelings, a resentment of tradition, a wonder at those like her more liberated and courageous friend, who in protest at her own unfair treatment (an unapproving mother-in-law interferes reminding me of Stay with Me), took the road less travelled, taking her four sons, arming herself with renewed higher education and an enviable career abroad.
It is a testament to the plight of women everywhere, who live in sufferance to the old ways of patriarchy, whose articulate social conscience has little outlet except through their children, whose ability to contribute so much more is worn down by the age old roles they are continued to play, which render other qualities less effective if under utilised.
Ultimately, she posits, it is only love that can heal, that can engender peace and harmony and the success of family is born of the couple's harmony, as the nation depends inevitably on the family.
This short, articulate novella is actually a conversation, or a lengthy letter from one widow to her best friend, whom she hasn't seen for some years, but who is arriving tomorrow.
Our recent widow is reflecting on how she is unable to detach from memories of better times in the past, during those 25 years where she was happily married and the only wife of her husband and the more bitter, heart-breaking recent years where she was abandoned by him for the best friend of her daughter, a young woman, who traded the magic of youth, for the allure of shiny things (with the exception of his silver grey streaks, which he in turn trades in for the black dye of those in denial of the ageing process).
Was it madness, weakness, irresistible love? What inner confusion led Modou Fall to marry Binetou?
To overcome my bitterness, I think of human destiny. Each life has its share of heroism, an obscure heroism, born of abdication, of renunciation and acceptance under the merciless whip of fate.
By turn she expresses shock, outrage, anger, resentment, pity until it turns towards those she must continue to aid, her children, to those who have supported her, her friends, including this one about to arrive, and to thinking of the lot of all women.
And to think that I loved this man passionately, to think that I gave him thirty years of my life, to think that twelve times over I carried his child. The addition of a rival to my life was not enough for him. In loving someone else, he burned his past, both morally and materially. He dared to commit such an act of disavowal.
And yet, what didn't he do to make me his wife!
It is a lament, a paradox of feelings, a resentment of tradition, a wonder at those like her more liberated and courageous friend, who in protest at her own unfair treatment (an unapproving mother-in-law interferes reminding me of Stay with Me), took the road less travelled, taking her four sons, arming herself with renewed higher education and an enviable career abroad.
It is a testament to the plight of women everywhere, who live in sufferance to the old ways of patriarchy, whose articulate social conscience has little outlet except through their children, whose ability to contribute so much more is worn down by the age old roles they are continued to play, which render other qualities less effective if under utilised.
I am not indifferent to the irreversible currents of the women's liberation that are lashing the world. This commotion that is shaking up every aspect of our lives reveals and illustrates our abilities.
My heart rejoices everytime a woman emerges from the shadows. I know that the field of our gains is unstable, the retention of conquests difficult: social constraints are ever-present, and male egoism resists.
Instruments for some, baits for others, respected or despised, often muzzled, all women have almost the same fate, which religions or unjust legislation have sealed.
Ultimately, she posits, it is only love that can heal, that can engender peace and harmony and the success of family is born of the couple's harmony, as the nation depends inevitably on the family.
I remain persuaded of the inevitable and necessary complementarity of man and woman.
Love, imperfect as it may be in its content and expression, remains the natural link between these two beings.
June 7, 2019
Winner of the 1980 Noma Prize, So Long a Letter by Mariama Bâ, translated by Modupé Bodé-Thomas, is in the form of a long letter written by one middle-aged Senegalese woman to another. A recently widowed Ramatoulaye writes to her childhood friend, Aissatou. The two share a similar fate in that their respective spouses took on second wives. But their reactions differ. Aissatou divorces her husband, raises her children, and makes a life for herself outside of Senegal. Ramatoulaye opts to stay in her village and endure the public humiliation of her husband taking on a second wife, a woman young enough to be their daughter.
Ramatoulaye eloquently reveals intimate details of her life. She falls in love with her future husband and marries him in spite of her mother’s reservations. They are happily married for over two decades when her husband takes on a second wife. Ramatoulaye is not prone to histrionics and maintains a calm, external demeanor when hearing the news even though she is shocked at the revelation.
Abandoned physically and financially by her husband, she shows her resilience and strength as she struggles to maintain the semblance of normalcy for herself and for her children. She lists the challenges she faces in paying bills and putting food on the table since her husband showered all his financial support on his extravagant new wife and her family. And she describes the difficulties of raising her brood of twelve children. But she harbors no bitterness toward her deceased husband whom she still loves.
One of the most endearing qualities that comes to the forefront in this novella is the relationship between the two friends. Theirs is a wonderful sisterhood of support and respect for each other’s choices. When Aissatou learns of Ramatoulaye’s hardship in finding adequate transportation, she buys a car for her friend to help ease her burden. And for her part, Ramatoulaye never criticizes her friend for choosing the path she did. Although they chose different paths, Ramatoulaye recognizes the choice one woman makes may not work for another. She supports a woman’s inviolable right to choose her own path and understands the pivotal role education plays in empowering women to exercise voice and choice. The novella ends on a beautiful note with Ramatalouye eagerly awaiting her friend’s visit to Senegal on the following day.
Ramatoulaye emerges as a compassionate, sensitive, intelligent, resourceful woman who has finally come into her own. She values her independence, gains strength as the novel progresses, and shocks her community by her repeated rejection of suitors seeking her hand in marriage after her husband’s death. Strong, dignified, empowered, and stoic, Ramatoulaye serves as a beacon of light for all women suffering injustice and oppression at the hands of men who exploit culture, tradition, or religion to gratify their selfish desires and to justify their abuse of women.
Highly recommended.
Ramatoulaye eloquently reveals intimate details of her life. She falls in love with her future husband and marries him in spite of her mother’s reservations. They are happily married for over two decades when her husband takes on a second wife. Ramatoulaye is not prone to histrionics and maintains a calm, external demeanor when hearing the news even though she is shocked at the revelation.
Abandoned physically and financially by her husband, she shows her resilience and strength as she struggles to maintain the semblance of normalcy for herself and for her children. She lists the challenges she faces in paying bills and putting food on the table since her husband showered all his financial support on his extravagant new wife and her family. And she describes the difficulties of raising her brood of twelve children. But she harbors no bitterness toward her deceased husband whom she still loves.
One of the most endearing qualities that comes to the forefront in this novella is the relationship between the two friends. Theirs is a wonderful sisterhood of support and respect for each other’s choices. When Aissatou learns of Ramatoulaye’s hardship in finding adequate transportation, she buys a car for her friend to help ease her burden. And for her part, Ramatoulaye never criticizes her friend for choosing the path she did. Although they chose different paths, Ramatoulaye recognizes the choice one woman makes may not work for another. She supports a woman’s inviolable right to choose her own path and understands the pivotal role education plays in empowering women to exercise voice and choice. The novella ends on a beautiful note with Ramatalouye eagerly awaiting her friend’s visit to Senegal on the following day.
Ramatoulaye emerges as a compassionate, sensitive, intelligent, resourceful woman who has finally come into her own. She values her independence, gains strength as the novel progresses, and shocks her community by her repeated rejection of suitors seeking her hand in marriage after her husband’s death. Strong, dignified, empowered, and stoic, Ramatoulaye serves as a beacon of light for all women suffering injustice and oppression at the hands of men who exploit culture, tradition, or religion to gratify their selfish desires and to justify their abuse of women.
Highly recommended.
March 11, 2021
El libro se presenta como una larga carta de Ramatoulaye, madre viuda, de familia acomodada, que vive en Dakar, a su gran amiga Aïsatou, que ha optado por vivir en el exterior.
Pero se parece más a las entradas de un diario personal, en el que cada entrada es un capítulo de tres o cuatro páginas.
Aquí vamos conociendo a Ramoulaye; habla de su presente, de sus penurias y alegrías, de cómo se ha ido forjando a través de los años; así cómo del futuro que soñaron construir cuándo ambas eran jóvenes, siendo solteras, y luego con sus respectivos maridos.
Y notablemente, el presente no genera en Ramatoulaye ni decepción ni cinismo, si no una madura esperanza en la mejoría del ser humano, en el respeto entre las personas, en el progreso del país y la lucha contra la pobreza, en el lugar que debe tener la mujer en una sociedad africana e islámica.
Con un ágil estilo narrativo (aunque con algunos errores tipográficos), cuenta su propia historia, que permite comprender claramente al personaje.
Mariama Bâ (1929-1981) nació y murió en Dakar, Senegal; fue docente y militante feminista, y autora de tres libros, todos en francés.
Senegal es uno de los pocos países africanos que se ha visto libre de violencia desde su independencia, aunque en los últimos días han habido manifestaciones antigubernamentales, en parte por el arresto del líder de la oposición.
Pero se parece más a las entradas de un diario personal, en el que cada entrada es un capítulo de tres o cuatro páginas.
Aquí vamos conociendo a Ramoulaye; habla de su presente, de sus penurias y alegrías, de cómo se ha ido forjando a través de los años; así cómo del futuro que soñaron construir cuándo ambas eran jóvenes, siendo solteras, y luego con sus respectivos maridos.
Y notablemente, el presente no genera en Ramatoulaye ni decepción ni cinismo, si no una madura esperanza en la mejoría del ser humano, en el respeto entre las personas, en el progreso del país y la lucha contra la pobreza, en el lugar que debe tener la mujer en una sociedad africana e islámica.
Con un ágil estilo narrativo (aunque con algunos errores tipográficos), cuenta su propia historia, que permite comprender claramente al personaje.
Mariama Bâ (1929-1981) nació y murió en Dakar, Senegal; fue docente y militante feminista, y autora de tres libros, todos en francés.
Senegal es uno de los pocos países africanos que se ha visto libre de violencia desde su independencia, aunque en los últimos días han habido manifestaciones antigubernamentales, en parte por el arresto del líder de la oposición.
August 20, 2020
mariama bâ, born in the colonial french regime, and lived through the senegalese independence. she belonged to the generation of trailblazers, the ones with fire in their hearts burning down everything that tries to incarcerate them. written in 1979, this epistolary novel set the senegalese author as a pioneer of feminism in her country.
set in the same background, mariama ba transcribes her own chaotic mind as ramatoulaye, a widow whose husband left her only to marry her daughter's bestfriend. a blatant commentary on the treatment of islamic-senegalese women in the society, this book could be seen as the tether connecting the acquiescent past and subversive future. while this ambiguity between nostalgia for custom and hopefulness for change is never fully resolved for ramatoulaye, she seems to have synthesized the two ~living at an intersection of then-unfamiliar concoctions : she is a woman, she is african, she is muslim, and she is a feminist. without rejecting any of those identities, she seems to value and embody each equally, proudly wearing them on her sleeves, a country's transition, a woman's metamorphosis - finally complete.
'Clothed in my dignity, the only worthy garment, I go my way.'
set in the same background, mariama ba transcribes her own chaotic mind as ramatoulaye, a widow whose husband left her only to marry her daughter's bestfriend. a blatant commentary on the treatment of islamic-senegalese women in the society, this book could be seen as the tether connecting the acquiescent past and subversive future. while this ambiguity between nostalgia for custom and hopefulness for change is never fully resolved for ramatoulaye, she seems to have synthesized the two ~living at an intersection of then-unfamiliar concoctions : she is a woman, she is african, she is muslim, and she is a feminist. without rejecting any of those identities, she seems to value and embody each equally, proudly wearing them on her sleeves, a country's transition, a woman's metamorphosis - finally complete.
'Clothed in my dignity, the only worthy garment, I go my way.'
December 30, 2017
Excellent. How many novels by Senegalese Muslim women have you read? Particularly ones dealing explicitly with both gender and religion? This is only about 80pages long, so is a quick read, and will probably help fill a gap in your reading which, in our current political climate, should be filled as a matter of some urgency.
February 21, 2017
Extraordinary concept - Senegalese narrator writes a long letter to a childhood friend detailing how both suffered when their husbands (for very different reasons) took on second wives. When this is good, it's really good. The social insights into the complicated reactions women had in polygamous situations were revelatory, and the autobiographical elements were apparent and strong.
Alas, the epistolary structure, which I was excited for, let it down a bit. There was not much logic to the idea that Ramatoulaye was telling her friend her own life again (the narrator apologizes for it at one point), nor did it make sense that she was giving detailed information on Senegalese customs to a countrywoman (I loved reading about those customs, but it created a bit of a believability gap). The style allowed details and scenes to be omitted for the sake of brevity - but I wanted those scenes so badly! The political sections were also a bit spotty, and for such a short read - 96 pages - slowed things down a bit.
The shame of it is that the plot - the novelistic, emotional core - is just so good here. The characters are wonderful, the structure of arcs is smart, the local details are used to perfection, and the lead is hugely likable. I know this book is taught quite often in post-colonial lit classes, and I can see why, but it goes down as something of a missed opportunity for me: the great novel that wasn't.
Alas, the epistolary structure, which I was excited for, let it down a bit. There was not much logic to the idea that Ramatoulaye was telling her friend her own life again (the narrator apologizes for it at one point), nor did it make sense that she was giving detailed information on Senegalese customs to a countrywoman (I loved reading about those customs, but it created a bit of a believability gap). The style allowed details and scenes to be omitted for the sake of brevity - but I wanted those scenes so badly! The political sections were also a bit spotty, and for such a short read - 96 pages - slowed things down a bit.
The shame of it is that the plot - the novelistic, emotional core - is just so good here. The characters are wonderful, the structure of arcs is smart, the local details are used to perfection, and the lead is hugely likable. I know this book is taught quite often in post-colonial lit classes, and I can see why, but it goes down as something of a missed opportunity for me: the great novel that wasn't.
July 26, 2016
This novel is in the form of a letter, written by the widowed Ramatoulaye and describing her struggle for survival.
Muslim Ramatoulaye, a Senegalese abandoned wife adjusts to her new role with utter strength tinged with sorrowfulness.
Bâ invites the reader entry into the depths of Ramatoulaye's life where all parties and sides are displayed. The complexities, contradictions of Ramatoulaye's situation adds dimension further explaining the blurred lines of religion, culture and of women.
Ramatoulaye does not point fingers, does not ask for pity, dismisses negativity, rather she cites all she has learned from her challenge. Her life altered in unimaginable ways she manages to focus on hope rather than lose herself in despair. This beautiful creature forges on in the light of a promising future. A bittersweet story, a remarkable woman. An intimate glance into religion, culture, family and the oppressive plight of women, the ramifications of polygamy. West African customs explored.
A story of friendship, love and hope.
Muslim Ramatoulaye, a Senegalese abandoned wife adjusts to her new role with utter strength tinged with sorrowfulness.
"From then on, my life changed. I had prepared myself for equal sharing, according to the precepts of Islam concerning polygamic life. I was left with empty hands. My children, who disagreed with my decision, sulked. In opposition to me, they represented a majority I had to respect."
Bâ invites the reader entry into the depths of Ramatoulaye's life where all parties and sides are displayed. The complexities, contradictions of Ramatoulaye's situation adds dimension further explaining the blurred lines of religion, culture and of women.
"Our lives developed in parallel. We experienced the tiffs and reconciliations of married life. In our different ways, we suffered the social constraints and heavy burden of custom. I loved Modou. I compromised with his people. I tolerated his sisters, who too often would desert their own homes to encumber my own. They allowed themselves to be fed and petted. They would look on, without reacting, as their children romped around on my chairs. I tolerated their spitting, the phlegm expertly secreted under my carpets."
Ramatoulaye does not point fingers, does not ask for pity, dismisses negativity, rather she cites all she has learned from her challenge. Her life altered in unimaginable ways she manages to focus on hope rather than lose herself in despair. This beautiful creature forges on in the light of a promising future. A bittersweet story, a remarkable woman. An intimate glance into religion, culture, family and the oppressive plight of women, the ramifications of polygamy. West African customs explored.
A story of friendship, love and hope.
"The word 'happiness' does indeed have meaning, doesn't it? I shall go out in search of it. Too bad for me if once again I have to write you so long a letter...."
April 2, 2018
What price the lot of African women under what has been patent patriarchal domination for years on end? Or specifically the plight of Moslem women in the continent? Of course this work excellently deals with this, and has rightly been considered something of a masterpiece for decades now. The author- now late- knew the subject matter inside out, and her 'long letter ' here to a female friend lays everything bare. How does a woman feel after being shoved aside by her husband for a very young woman, one who could easily have been her own daughter in age? What can a woman do? How does she bear the comprehensive humiliation? How does she survive? How does she hold onto her own children - no longer kids - and still endeavour to bring them up the right way? This magnificent work illuminates all this with monumental empathy and pathos in its stride.
The author is a superb writer, and introspective and quite blunt to boot. She is aware of her status as an African woman who has had 12 children! But she is still very much a woman. As she writes later on in this work, "...I said it teasingly, rolling my eyes round. Eternal woman, even in mourning, you want to make a strike, you want to seduce, arouse interest" . Her excellent narrative certainly arouses our interest, which include the vagaries of her own brood. We share her shock as she suddenly discovers one of her own daughter smoking: "... A woman's mouth exhaling the acrid smell of tobacco instead of being fragrant. A woman's teeth blackened with tobacco instead of sparkling with whiteness' Despite her apparent broad-mindedness and stoic approach, one cannot but wish our narrator all the best...
October 24, 2018
English version of this book: So Long a Letter
Reading the first sentences, I feel that I will love this book and its author:
"To confide drowns the pain."
In this long letter to her female friend, Ramatoulaye tells her life, her pain, her hopes in a better future, in her children.
"The past fertilizes the present."
"And though I loved this man passionately, I devoted to him thirty years of my life, I carried his twelve children. Adding a rival to my life was not enough. By loving another, he burned his past morally and materially, he dared such a denial."
Ramatoulaye, the narrator and heroine of this letter, is a Senegalese woman, Muslim, who could be the author herself, born in 1929. When Mariama Bâ-Ramatoulaye wrote this letter, she may not be fifty years old, and has already lived a substantial past. She experienced decolonization, went to school and high school, against the prejudices of the 1950s, when many did not understand that a girls could learn, they even scorned them, saying that "the school turns girls into devils! " No matter, Ramatoulaye followed her own path, she studied and became a teacher; then she got married, a marriage of love of which she had nine children while continuing to work, ...
"The woman who works has double burdens (work, and home and children) as overwhelming as each other, which she tries to reconcile. How to concile them? There lies all the know-how that differentiates homes."
... until one day, suddenly, her husband marries a second wife, a very young girl, the friend of his own daughter!
So many customs revolt me in this book, testimony of a time and a country:
The polygamy which is the knot of this long letter;
The survival of a gentry which I thought was outdates, but which rebels when the son does not marry in his rank,
"Royally welcomed (in her family), ... one spoke to her only knees on the ground. She (the old aunt) took her meals alone; Served with what was the best in the pots ... The visitors came from all over to honor her, reminding her of the veracity of the ties of blood."
The total ignorance that some adults may have with children they do not consider as human beings but as utilitarian objects that can be sold or given:
"She (the same old aunt) summoned her brother.
‘I need’, said she, ‘a child by my side to furnish my heart; I want this child to be both my legs and my right arm. I'm getting old…’
‘Never mind, said her brother Farba Diouf ... Today's young people are hard to raise. Take the little Nabou, she's yours. I only ask you for her bones."
And my heart sinks thinking of this little girl, taken far away from home, away from her mother, by an old aunt she had never seen before that day. And my heart sinks thinking of the wife of this Farba Diouf, one of his four wives, whom child is taken without asking her consent.
And I don’t understand how men can be so insensitive. Insensitive is a terrible word and it's fraught with consequences when one takes the time to stop and think about it.
Revolting also, are the brothers of the dead husband who pretend to marry the widow, and so on…
Yet, in the 1950s, in Senegal, a youth full of hope for a bright future for the country lived beautiful days made of simple happiness - and sometimes poetic under the pen of Mariama Bâ:
"On the fine sand rinsed by the wave and gorged with water, naively painted pirogues were waiting to be thrown on the water. In their hull shone small puddles of water full of sky and sun."
"We lived ... we knew the secret of simple pleasures, beneficial cures in the storm of days!"
" We lived. Standing in our overcrowded classrooms, we were a push of the gigantic effort to accomplish, for the regression of ignorance."
Yet the strength of women, sometimes, in this book, rejoices my heart, swells it with pride by proxy, a pride of being a woman, like Aïssatou who, after four children and a happy marriage made of love and of sharing, sees her husband yield cowardly to the family pressure, to marry a second woman, his very young cousin! But Aïssatou takes her courage, her four sons and her life in her hands and leaves her husband, leaves her city, leaves her country. She studies and, alone, succeeds her life and that of her children.
"Aissatou, how I envied your tranquility during your last stay! You were there, rid of the mask of suffering ... the past crushed under your heel. You were there, innocent victim of an unjust cause and bold pioneer of a new life."
Although "one cannot easily overcome millennial heaviness," the hope of the new generation is embodied by the daughter of the heroine, Daba, who succeeds in her marriage. Her husband doing his part of the chores says: "Daba is my wife, she is not my slave nor my maid."
As for Daba, I quite agree with her when she says:
"I don’t want to do politics. Not that the fate of my country and especially the fate of women don’t interest me. But to look at the sterile struggles within the same political party, to look at men's appetite for power, I prefer to abstain."
I liked, in this text, that through multiple characters, women, men, of different generations, Mariama Bâ makes us understand why certain things happen, why, for example, girls agree to marry older men, already married and fathers of many children. It is difficult to resist the weight of society and probably even more the weight of one's own family.
I liked even more the depth and endurance of women, the magnanimity of some of them.
PS: I could also have told you the importance of the friendship of the two women in the book, a nice passage about books, but I leave you the pleasure to discover!
Reading the first sentences, I feel that I will love this book and its author:
"To confide drowns the pain."
In this long letter to her female friend, Ramatoulaye tells her life, her pain, her hopes in a better future, in her children.
"The past fertilizes the present."
"And though I loved this man passionately, I devoted to him thirty years of my life, I carried his twelve children. Adding a rival to my life was not enough. By loving another, he burned his past morally and materially, he dared such a denial."
Ramatoulaye, the narrator and heroine of this letter, is a Senegalese woman, Muslim, who could be the author herself, born in 1929. When Mariama Bâ-Ramatoulaye wrote this letter, she may not be fifty years old, and has already lived a substantial past. She experienced decolonization, went to school and high school, against the prejudices of the 1950s, when many did not understand that a girls could learn, they even scorned them, saying that "the school turns girls into devils! " No matter, Ramatoulaye followed her own path, she studied and became a teacher; then she got married, a marriage of love of which she had nine children while continuing to work, ...
"The woman who works has double burdens (work, and home and children) as overwhelming as each other, which she tries to reconcile. How to concile them? There lies all the know-how that differentiates homes."
... until one day, suddenly, her husband marries a second wife, a very young girl, the friend of his own daughter!
So many customs revolt me in this book, testimony of a time and a country:
The polygamy which is the knot of this long letter;
The survival of a gentry which I thought was outdates, but which rebels when the son does not marry in his rank,
"Royally welcomed (in her family), ... one spoke to her only knees on the ground. She (the old aunt) took her meals alone; Served with what was the best in the pots ... The visitors came from all over to honor her, reminding her of the veracity of the ties of blood."
The total ignorance that some adults may have with children they do not consider as human beings but as utilitarian objects that can be sold or given:
"She (the same old aunt) summoned her brother.
‘I need’, said she, ‘a child by my side to furnish my heart; I want this child to be both my legs and my right arm. I'm getting old…’
‘Never mind, said her brother Farba Diouf ... Today's young people are hard to raise. Take the little Nabou, she's yours. I only ask you for her bones."
And my heart sinks thinking of this little girl, taken far away from home, away from her mother, by an old aunt she had never seen before that day. And my heart sinks thinking of the wife of this Farba Diouf, one of his four wives, whom child is taken without asking her consent.
And I don’t understand how men can be so insensitive. Insensitive is a terrible word and it's fraught with consequences when one takes the time to stop and think about it.
Revolting also, are the brothers of the dead husband who pretend to marry the widow, and so on…
Yet, in the 1950s, in Senegal, a youth full of hope for a bright future for the country lived beautiful days made of simple happiness - and sometimes poetic under the pen of Mariama Bâ:
"On the fine sand rinsed by the wave and gorged with water, naively painted pirogues were waiting to be thrown on the water. In their hull shone small puddles of water full of sky and sun."
"We lived ... we knew the secret of simple pleasures, beneficial cures in the storm of days!"
" We lived. Standing in our overcrowded classrooms, we were a push of the gigantic effort to accomplish, for the regression of ignorance."
Yet the strength of women, sometimes, in this book, rejoices my heart, swells it with pride by proxy, a pride of being a woman, like Aïssatou who, after four children and a happy marriage made of love and of sharing, sees her husband yield cowardly to the family pressure, to marry a second woman, his very young cousin! But Aïssatou takes her courage, her four sons and her life in her hands and leaves her husband, leaves her city, leaves her country. She studies and, alone, succeeds her life and that of her children.
"Aissatou, how I envied your tranquility during your last stay! You were there, rid of the mask of suffering ... the past crushed under your heel. You were there, innocent victim of an unjust cause and bold pioneer of a new life."
Although "one cannot easily overcome millennial heaviness," the hope of the new generation is embodied by the daughter of the heroine, Daba, who succeeds in her marriage. Her husband doing his part of the chores says: "Daba is my wife, she is not my slave nor my maid."
As for Daba, I quite agree with her when she says:
"I don’t want to do politics. Not that the fate of my country and especially the fate of women don’t interest me. But to look at the sterile struggles within the same political party, to look at men's appetite for power, I prefer to abstain."
I liked, in this text, that through multiple characters, women, men, of different generations, Mariama Bâ makes us understand why certain things happen, why, for example, girls agree to marry older men, already married and fathers of many children. It is difficult to resist the weight of society and probably even more the weight of one's own family.
I liked even more the depth and endurance of women, the magnanimity of some of them.
PS: I could also have told you the importance of the friendship of the two women in the book, a nice passage about books, but I leave you the pleasure to discover!
April 26, 2021
Absolutely loved the book. It is concise but pregnant with meaning. The book is in the form of a letter written by Ramatoulaye in Senegal to her friend Aissatou living in America. In the letter she chronicles, challenges they have gone through as women and how they have adapted or overcame the challenges. The book touches on a lot of feminist issues, including, love, marriage and divorce, polygamy, friendship, raising kids alone, extended family, politics, modernity vis-a-vis culture and religion.
May 1, 2021
Beautifully written in the form of a letter between two old friends, Ramatoulaye recounts the events following her husband's death to Aissatou. She remembers how their friendship started as children, their marriages and the divorce of her friend. She tells how her husband abandoned her for a much younger wife and how she came to enjoy the independence this granted her. There is a tension between the old rituals of death and the reality of a modern society in the telling. Highly recommend, it's a pity her books are fairly difficult to obtain in South Africa, but I will read more of her works.
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October 24, 2023read for my African Novel in French class
September 7, 2022
كم عدد الأحلام التي رعيناها بشدّة، والتي كان يمكن أن تتحول إلى سعادة دائمة، لكننا خيبنا أملها لاحتضان أحلام أخرى انفجرت بشكل مثير للشفقة مثل فقاعات الصابون، تاركة أيدينا فارغة؟!
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