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nghia 's review for:
La Bastarda
by Trifonia Melibea Obono
This is a great example of a book that isn't "for" an American audience but is still interesting because it opens a view on a very different kind of world.
This is a LGBT coming-of-age novel set in Equatorial Guinea. As the translator's note makes clear, that's a somewhat unique and needed kind of story in Africa. For a US reader, especially the kind likely to pick up an obscure translated novel, it does carry a bit of "seen that a dozen times". It does offer one spin on the usual Western version of this kind of story: when Okomo and her friends embrace their queer identities they don't escape to the anonymising embrace of a liberal, cosmopolitan Big City. Instead they retreat deep into the jungle and the author sets up the implication that this, the real Africa and not some modern colonialist/Western city is where people can be free and queer.
Although the overall arc isn't especially interesting for a Western reader, what I really liked were all of the tiny details that Obono drops into the story that remind us that, despite our shared humanity, this is a very different world than the one I live in. (Though I can see echoes of it in Vietnam, where I live.) It never feels forced or contrived, they just fall naturally. They aren't telegraphed....just suddenly you find yourself in a minor domestic dispute that involves polygamy and machetes. As you do.
Obono shows how women are a key part of the oppressive patriarchy. They are the actual on-the-ground enforcers of the societal norms. As when Okomo's grandmother says:
Obomo shows us, without ever coming across as pedantic, all the straightjackets of life in a Fang village. Whether that's the sexism and patriarchy or the deference to elders but always presented matter-of-factly so it never feels preachy.
My favorite scene is when Okomo's grandfather organizes a large party and invites most of the village:
I also loved this small throwaway line highlighting the many weird ways in which "femininity" comes to be defined around the world:
While the LBGT coming of age story wasn't too exciting, I adored all the details that really drove home this was happening in a tiny village in Equatorial Guinea.
My mother got pregnant when she was nineteen and died while giving birth, her death brought about by witchcraft. From that moment I was declared a bastarda—a bastard daughter. I had been born before my father paid the dowry in exchange for my mother.
This is a LGBT coming-of-age novel set in Equatorial Guinea. As the translator's note makes clear, that's a somewhat unique and needed kind of story in Africa. For a US reader, especially the kind likely to pick up an obscure translated novel, it does carry a bit of "seen that a dozen times". It does offer one spin on the usual Western version of this kind of story: when Okomo and her friends embrace their queer identities they don't escape to the anonymising embrace of a liberal, cosmopolitan Big City. Instead they retreat deep into the jungle and the author sets up the implication that this, the real Africa and not some modern colonialist/Western city is where people can be free and queer.
The second famous person from our tribe that my grandfather spoke of was Ondó, a celebrated man who had fought against the mitangan, married twelve women, fathered seventy children, and devoted the final years of his life to sleeping with married women.
Although the overall arc isn't especially interesting for a Western reader, what I really liked were all of the tiny details that Obono drops into the story that remind us that, despite our shared humanity, this is a very different world than the one I live in. (Though I can see echoes of it in Vietnam, where I live.) It never feels forced or contrived, they just fall naturally. They aren't telegraphed....just suddenly you find yourself in a minor domestic dispute that involves polygamy and machetes. As you do.
Each time my grandmother criticized my grandfather’s lousy character, his second wife sprang to his defense. And that night, in the blink of an eye, they found themselves in the living room threatening each other with machetes.
Obono shows how women are a key part of the oppressive patriarchy. They are the actual on-the-ground enforcers of the societal norms. As when Okomo's grandmother says:
What is a woman without a man? Dina is on the brink of old age—she is eighteen years old and has no husband! And her family still has not benefitted from her body.
Obomo shows us, without ever coming across as pedantic, all the straightjackets of life in a Fang village. Whether that's the sexism and patriarchy or the deference to elders but always presented matter-of-factly so it never feels preachy.
“I’ve heard you two get along well, but I forbid you to see him again.”
“He doesn’t seem like a bad person to me.”
“Your opinion doesn’t count; your elders are always right.”
“So does that mean you’ll listen to Grandmother and leave your husband?” I asked.
“It’s not the same,” she snapped.
My favorite scene is when Okomo's grandfather organizes a large party and invites most of the village:
First wives went into my grandmother’s kitchen, while second, third, fourth (and so on) wives went over to the kitchen of Osá’s second wife. The two groups hated each other intensely.
[...]
That’s when I discovered the worst part of parties: cleaning up. My grandmother and I, together with the second wife, worked until midnight, while the star of the party snored in bed after drinking a few liters of malamba. At last, we women also went to bed.
I also loved this small throwaway line highlighting the many weird ways in which "femininity" comes to be defined around the world:
(according to Fang tradition, women’s hands never feel heat; in fact, they must lift pots from the fire without using a cloth to highlight their femininity)
While the LBGT coming of age story wasn't too exciting, I adored all the details that really drove home this was happening in a tiny village in Equatorial Guinea.