by Mariama Bâ
Here then, concise and well said, was all I wanted to hear. How to reply? Should I agree readily to his propositions? Farmata, who was present during the discussion, was looking out for squalls.
She asked: 'You were really the first?' 'Yes,' confirmed Iba Sall.
'Then, warn your mother. We or I shall go to see her tomorrow to announce your crime. She had better save a lot of money to compensate my niece. Anyway, couldn't you have waited until you had a good job before running after girls?'
Ibrahima Sall heard the griot woman's remarks without showing any irritation. Perhaps he already knew her well enough by name and character to remain politely silent.
My own preoccupations were very different from those of Farmata. We were right in the middle of the school year. What was to be done to prevent my daughter's expulsion from school?
I told Iba Sall of my fears. He too had given some thought to the problem. The child would be born during the holidays. The essential thing was not to panic, just to let the months go past, and for Aissatou to dress in loose clothes. At the beginning of the following school year the baby would be two months old. Aissatou would then join the final-year class. After this final year, marriage.
My daughter's boyfriend had worked it out logically and reminded me of Daba's clearness of mind.
Ibrahima Sall himself ran no risk of being expelled from the university. And even had he still been at school, who would inform the school of his position as father-to-be?
There would be no change in him. He would remain 'flat' ... while my daughter's swollen belly would point an accusing finger.
When will there be a lenient law to help erring schoolgirls whose condition is not camouflaged by long holidays?
I added nothing to all this careful planning. At that moment, I felt that my child was being detached from my being, as if I were again bringing her into the world. She was no longer under my protection. She belonged more to her boyfriend. A new family was being born before my very eyes.
I accepted my subordinate role. The ripe fruit must drop away from the tree.
May God smooth the new path of this child's life. Yet what a path!
26
Aissatou, reassuring habits regain ascendancy.
My heart beats monotonously under my black wrappers. How I like to listen to this slow rhythm! A new substance is trying to graft itself on to the household.
Ibrahima Sall comes every day and gives each of us what he can. He offers Mawdo Fall his logic and clarity in discussions of the topics of his essays. He provides chocolate regularly for Oumar and Ousmane. He is not too proud to play with Malick and Alioune, who have given up the street for my compound.
Malick's arm is still in plaster. Just as long as his leg, which cannot keep away from the ball, does not break in its turn!
But the trio (Arame, Yacine and Dieynaba) refuse to accept this 'intrusion'. The trio greet him correctly but without enthusiasm. The trio are hostile to his invitations.
They begrudge him for having. ...
Ibrahima Sall urges Aissatou on in her lessons and homework. He has his girlfriend's success at heart. He does not want to be responsible for any regression whatsoever.
Aissatou's marks improve: there's a silver lining in every cloud! Farmata finds it difficult to accept Ibrahima Sall, whom she describes as 'cocksure', 'shameless'. She never misses an opportunity of hitting out at him: 'Has one ever seen a stranger untie a goat in the house?'
Unperturbed, Ibrahima Sall tries to adapt. He seeks out my company, discusses current events with me, sometimes brings me magazines and fruit. His parents, informed some time ago by the vigilant Farmata, also come round to see us and are anxious about Aissatou's health. And reassuring habits regain ascendancy. ...
I envy you for having had only boys! You don't know the terrors I face in dealing with the problems of my daughters.
I have finally decided to broach the problem of sexual education. Aissatou, your namesake, caught me unawares. From now on, I will take precautions. I address myself to the trio, the twins being still too young.
How I had hesitated earlier! I did not want to give my daughters a free hand by offering them immunity in pleasure. The world is upside-down. Mothers of yore taught chastity. Their voice of authority condemned all extra-marital 'wanderings'.
Modern mothers favour 'forbidden games'. They help to limit the damage and, better still, prevent it. They remove any thorn or pebble that might hinder the progress of their children towards the conquest of all forms of liberty! I apply myself painfully to this necessity.
All the same, I insist that my daughters be aware of the value of their bodies. I emphasize the sublime significance of the sexual act, an expression of love. The existence of means of contraception must not lead to an unhindered release of desires and instincts. It is through his self-control, his ability to reason, to choose, his power of attachment, that the individual distinguishes himself from the animal.
Each woman makes of her life what she wants. A profligate life for a woman is incompatible with morality. What does one gain from pleasures? Early ageing, debasement, no doubt about it, I further stressed.
My words fell uneasily on my female audience. Of us all, I was the most vulnerable. For the trio's faces registered no surprise. My chopped sentences aroused no special interest. I had the impression that I was saying the obvious.
Perhaps the trio knew already. ... A long silence....................... And the trio disappeared. I let out
a sigh of relief. I felt that I had emerged into the light after a long journey through a dark, narrow tunnel.
27
Till tomorrow, my friend.
We will then have time to ourselves, especially as I have obtained an extension of my widow's leave.
I reflect. My new turn of mind is hardly surprising to you. I cannot help unburdening myself to you. I might as well sum up now.
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. 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.
My reflections determine my attitude to the problems of life. I analyse the decisions that decide our future. I widen my scope by taking an interest in current world affairs.
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.
To love one another! If only each partner could move sincerely towards the other! If each could only melt into the other! If each would only accept the other's successes and failures! If each would only praise the other's qualities instead of listing his faults! If each could only correct bad habits without harping on about them! If each could penetrate the other's most secret haunts to forestall failure and be a support while tending to the evils that are repressed!
The success of the family is born of a couple's harmony, as the harmony of multiple instruments creates a pleasant symphony.
The nation is made up of all the families, rich or poor, united or separated, aware or unaware. The success of a nation therefore depends inevitably on the family.
Why aren't your sons coming with you? Ah, their studies. ...
So, then, will I see you tomorrow in a tailored suit or a long dress? I've taken a bet with Daba: tailored suit. Used to living far away, you will want again, I have taken a bet with Daba: table, plate, chair, fork.
More convenient, you will say. But I will not let you have your way. I will spread out a mat. On it there will be the big, stea
ming bowl into which you will have to accept that other hands dip.
Beneath the shell that has hardened you over the years, beneath your sceptical pout, your easy carriage, perhaps I will feel you vibrate. I would so much like to hear you check or encourage my eagerness, just as before, and, as before, to see you take part in the search for a new way.
I warn you already, I have not given up wanting to refashion my life. Despite everything---disappointments and humiliations hope still lives on within me. It is
from the dirty and nauseating humus that the green plant sprouts into life, and I can feel new buds springing up in me.
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. ...
Ramatoulaye
© Les Nouvelles Editions Africaines 1980
© In translation Modupé Bodé-Thomas 1981
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[1] An invocation that indicates the seriousness of the subject to be discussed.
[2] Form of condolence that also expresses hope of moral recovery.
[3] Senegalese food prepared from roughly kneaded millet flour, which is cooked in water and eaten with curds.
[4] It is the duty of the husband's sisters to buy his widow's mourning clothes.
[5] A drink prepared by mixing sugared curds with well- kneaded millet flour; it is cooked in steam.
[6] Black African, of any nationality, who is part-poet, part-musician, part-sorcerer.
[7] Suburbs of Dakar, capital of Senegal.
[8] Sweet-smelling and stimulating powder.
[9] Building society in the Cap-Vert department of Senegal (Dakar and environs), which constructs houses for sale or rent.
[10] Princess of the Sine.
[11] Underground river.
[12] Invisible companions.
[13] A man in Western-style clothes.