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The First Woman
"A powerful feminist rendition of Ugandan origin tales, The First Woman tells the story of Kirabo, the equivalent of Eve in Ugandan mythology."
"Smart, headstrong, and flawed, Kirabo is raised by doting grandparents in idyllic Natteria in rural Uganda. But as she enters her teens, she starts to feel overshadowed by the absence of the mother she has never known. At once epic and deeply personal, it tells the story of one young girl's search for her mother, her discovery of what it means to be a woman throughout history and the implications of her future."
The book is billed as the companion to her acclaimed debut, Kintu.
"Smart, headstrong, and flawed, Kirabo is raised by doting grandparents in idyllic Natteria in rural Uganda. But as she enters her teens, she starts to feel overshadowed by the absence of the mother she has never known. At once epic and deeply personal, it tells the story of one young girl's search for her mother, her discovery of what it means to be a woman throughout history and the implications of her future."
The book is billed as the companion to her acclaimed debut, Kintu.
438 pages, Hardcover
First published September 1, 2020
988 people are currently reading
35189 people want to read
About the author
Jennifer Nansubuga Makumbi
5 books878 followersJennifer Nansubuga Makumbi, a Ugandan novelist and short story writer, has a PhD from Lancaster University. She is a lecturer in Creative Writing at Lancaster University and lives in Manchester with her husband Damian and son Jordan.
Her first novel, Kintu, won the Kwani Manuscript Prize in 2013 and was longlisted for the 2014 Etisalat Prize for Literature. Her story Let's Tell This Story Properly won the 2014 Commonwealth Short Story Prize. In 2018 she was awarded a Windham-Campbell Prize in the fiction category. In 2021, her novel The First Woman won the Jhalak Prize.
Makumbi's writing is largely based on oral traditions. She realised that oral traditions were so broad and would be able to frame all her writing regardless of subject, form or genre. She has said she "noticed that using oral forms which were normally perceived as trite and 'tired' brought, ironically, a certain depth to a piece that I could not explain."
Her first novel, Kintu, won the Kwani Manuscript Prize in 2013 and was longlisted for the 2014 Etisalat Prize for Literature. Her story Let's Tell This Story Properly won the 2014 Commonwealth Short Story Prize. In 2018 she was awarded a Windham-Campbell Prize in the fiction category. In 2021, her novel The First Woman won the Jhalak Prize.
Makumbi's writing is largely based on oral traditions. She realised that oral traditions were so broad and would be able to frame all her writing regardless of subject, form or genre. She has said she "noticed that using oral forms which were normally perceived as trite and 'tired' brought, ironically, a certain depth to a piece that I could not explain."
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 1,101 reviews
July 12, 2020
The ancients claimed women could not share land wealth. "They claimed that the very first woman rose out of the sea while the first man emerged from earth...both women and the sea were baffling...water has no shape...is inconsistent...cannot be tamed...you cannot draw borders on the ocean...land belonged with men".
Nattetta, Uganda, a rural patriarchal village in the 1970's. Grandfather (Miiro) was a member of the school board, his mantra, "A girl uneducated is an oppressed wife in the making". Grandmother (Alikisa), in a careful, loving way, encouraged all girls whose lives she touched, to finish their studies.
At six months of age, Kirabo Nnamiiro was given to Miiro and Alikisa to raise. Their son Tom was Kirabo's father. Motherless Kirabo, now 12, wanted to find the mother who abandoned her. She secretly consulted with the town witch, Nsuuta. Deep, dark secrets! Why were Grandmother and Nsuuta, once close friends, now arch enemies? Why did Grandmother birth Tom only to give him to Nsuuta to raise? "Traditionally, wives share children. You could not leave your co-wife to live a childless life while you hoard all your progeny to yourself". It was well advised for Tom to take Kirabo to the city with him.
Upon arriving in Kampala, Tom told his wife, "That is Kirabo. This is her home". Turbulent, confusing times for Kirabo...soon off to an elite private school. If Kirabo were home, the entire village would have given her a send-off. "Let your ancestors' blessings walk with you...". Kirabo just put her suitcase in the boot of Tom's car.
Ultimately, "A Girl Is a Body of Water" by Jennifer Nansubuga Makumbi is a literary novel describing the roadblocks encountered by women in a patriarchal society. Men are the landowners. A wife can leave a marriage, the children must stay with their extended paternal family. Marriage itself? Young girls, if beautiful, marry early. Education keeps a girl off the marriage market thus offering her fewer choices finding a suitable husband. Issues could arise over a "ringed" wife and a husband's true love. Children, therefore, can have a "senior mother" and a "younger mother". Kirabo's thoughts, "[Grandfather's] biggest wealth was his children, and their education of course, he had land and land...". One of this reader's favorite scenes was a joyfully liberating torrential rainstorm! Highly recommended!
Thank you Tin House Books, Book Browse and author Jennifer Nansubuga Makumbi for the ARC in exchange for an honest review.
Nattetta, Uganda, a rural patriarchal village in the 1970's. Grandfather (Miiro) was a member of the school board, his mantra, "A girl uneducated is an oppressed wife in the making". Grandmother (Alikisa), in a careful, loving way, encouraged all girls whose lives she touched, to finish their studies.
At six months of age, Kirabo Nnamiiro was given to Miiro and Alikisa to raise. Their son Tom was Kirabo's father. Motherless Kirabo, now 12, wanted to find the mother who abandoned her. She secretly consulted with the town witch, Nsuuta. Deep, dark secrets! Why were Grandmother and Nsuuta, once close friends, now arch enemies? Why did Grandmother birth Tom only to give him to Nsuuta to raise? "Traditionally, wives share children. You could not leave your co-wife to live a childless life while you hoard all your progeny to yourself". It was well advised for Tom to take Kirabo to the city with him.
Upon arriving in Kampala, Tom told his wife, "That is Kirabo. This is her home". Turbulent, confusing times for Kirabo...soon off to an elite private school. If Kirabo were home, the entire village would have given her a send-off. "Let your ancestors' blessings walk with you...". Kirabo just put her suitcase in the boot of Tom's car.
Ultimately, "A Girl Is a Body of Water" by Jennifer Nansubuga Makumbi is a literary novel describing the roadblocks encountered by women in a patriarchal society. Men are the landowners. A wife can leave a marriage, the children must stay with their extended paternal family. Marriage itself? Young girls, if beautiful, marry early. Education keeps a girl off the marriage market thus offering her fewer choices finding a suitable husband. Issues could arise over a "ringed" wife and a husband's true love. Children, therefore, can have a "senior mother" and a "younger mother". Kirabo's thoughts, "[Grandfather's] biggest wealth was his children, and their education of course, he had land and land...". One of this reader's favorite scenes was a joyfully liberating torrential rainstorm! Highly recommended!
Thank you Tin House Books, Book Browse and author Jennifer Nansubuga Makumbi for the ARC in exchange for an honest review.
September 17, 2020
This is my first book by Jennifer Nansubuga Makumbi and it definitely will not be my last
If you are looking for a book set in Uganda during the 1970s with a strong female protagonist, this book is it! In A Girl Is A Body Of Water we meet young Kirabo who is being raised by her Grandparents in a small village called Nattetta. The story Kirabo was told is that her father, Tom, showed up with her 12 years ago because her mother did not want her. Since then Kirabo have been wondering, who is this woman do left me? She asks questions but no one will give her a straight answer not even Nsuuta, who the villagers call a witch.
Kirabo’s family cannot understand why is not able to move pass being abandoned by her mother. In their mind, she is greatly provided for and taken care of, why does she need to know more about the woman who did not stay around? Kirabo is at that stage where she feels a dual force inside of her, one that is obedient and the other that wants to wreak havoc. Kirabo is growing up, and fast, her world keeps changing, secrets are being revealed that forces Kirabo to question her reality.
This is a marathon read, Makumbi takes us into the life of Kirabo, we actually read about her leaving the village to go live with her father, she goes off to boarding school, we see her fall in love, grow up and experience how her world changes through grief.
There is so much happening in this book, we get a historical look into Uganda during the 1970s, there is folklore, oral storytelling, religion, a bit of magical realism, themes of grief, generational curses, love, grief, abandonment, betrayal and feminism.
Let me start with what I loved:
I loved reading about Uganda and what was happened historically during the 1970s.
The author did a great job of showcasing feminism and I really enjoyed how that theme was executed. It is not every day I read a book where feminism is at the forefront of the narrative and I thoroughly enjoyed it.
Kirabo is a character I enjoyed hearing from, I really could not get enough of her world. I delighted in her grown and her growing into her womanhood.
Makumbi does an amazing job of writing family history and generational curses. How is it one family have so many secrets?! It was enjoyable to read for sure.
The author did a great job of showcasing religion and how religion was used as a means to colonize. Throughout the entire book religion was explored, through the planting of churches and how Christianity changed the customs of the villagers.
Language was also executed in a layered way, how the use of English was seen as a good thing.
What I did not enjoy:
While I enjoyed the book, I felt it could have benefited by having a stronger editor. I felt too much was happening and the themes were not strongly fleshed out. There is the hint at magical realism at the start of the book that basically fizzled out and was not carried through the entire book.
I also had some difficulties with the timeline of some events it was not clear when or how it happened. There was not an easy transition of flashback or creating a linear narrative. It was very clunky how events were sometimes written and that left me confused at time.
There were a lot of characters, some with names that look the same, and I had to keep flipping to the back of the book to remind myself who was who.
I was not entirely sold on Kirabo and Sio’s relationship, a lot of it did not seem realistic and how their story was told didn’t help in making it believable for me.
Overall, I did enjoy this book, I just felt the plot could have been tighter.
If you are looking for a book set in Uganda during the 1970s with a strong female protagonist, this book is it! In A Girl Is A Body Of Water we meet young Kirabo who is being raised by her Grandparents in a small village called Nattetta. The story Kirabo was told is that her father, Tom, showed up with her 12 years ago because her mother did not want her. Since then Kirabo have been wondering, who is this woman do left me? She asks questions but no one will give her a straight answer not even Nsuuta, who the villagers call a witch.
Kirabo’s family cannot understand why is not able to move pass being abandoned by her mother. In their mind, she is greatly provided for and taken care of, why does she need to know more about the woman who did not stay around? Kirabo is at that stage where she feels a dual force inside of her, one that is obedient and the other that wants to wreak havoc. Kirabo is growing up, and fast, her world keeps changing, secrets are being revealed that forces Kirabo to question her reality.
This is a marathon read, Makumbi takes us into the life of Kirabo, we actually read about her leaving the village to go live with her father, she goes off to boarding school, we see her fall in love, grow up and experience how her world changes through grief.
There is so much happening in this book, we get a historical look into Uganda during the 1970s, there is folklore, oral storytelling, religion, a bit of magical realism, themes of grief, generational curses, love, grief, abandonment, betrayal and feminism.
Let me start with what I loved:
I loved reading about Uganda and what was happened historically during the 1970s.
The author did a great job of showcasing feminism and I really enjoyed how that theme was executed. It is not every day I read a book where feminism is at the forefront of the narrative and I thoroughly enjoyed it.
Kirabo is a character I enjoyed hearing from, I really could not get enough of her world. I delighted in her grown and her growing into her womanhood.
Makumbi does an amazing job of writing family history and generational curses. How is it one family have so many secrets?! It was enjoyable to read for sure.
The author did a great job of showcasing religion and how religion was used as a means to colonize. Throughout the entire book religion was explored, through the planting of churches and how Christianity changed the customs of the villagers.
Language was also executed in a layered way, how the use of English was seen as a good thing.
What I did not enjoy:
While I enjoyed the book, I felt it could have benefited by having a stronger editor. I felt too much was happening and the themes were not strongly fleshed out. There is the hint at magical realism at the start of the book that basically fizzled out and was not carried through the entire book.
I also had some difficulties with the timeline of some events it was not clear when or how it happened. There was not an easy transition of flashback or creating a linear narrative. It was very clunky how events were sometimes written and that left me confused at time.
There were a lot of characters, some with names that look the same, and I had to keep flipping to the back of the book to remind myself who was who.
I was not entirely sold on Kirabo and Sio’s relationship, a lot of it did not seem realistic and how their story was told didn’t help in making it believable for me.
Overall, I did enjoy this book, I just felt the plot could have been tighter.
September 24, 2020
Why penned hens peck each other
The First Woman is a feast of Ugandan history, language, culture, mythology but above all mwenkanonkano—a Luganda word that loosely translates as feminism, but this concept is older, local, not something imported from the west.
Kirabo is a bright, driven young girl coming of age in 1970s Uganda. She navigates a world shaped by patriarchy, colonialism, Idi Amin’s brutal regime, and complex overlapping hierarchies of clans, classes and ethnic groups. Kirabo’s extended family has its share of secrets and long-held grudges, not least of which is the identity of Kirabo’s own mother.
It sounds like a lot, but really this is a personal, character-driven story about Kirabo and her family. The rest is context—necessary context—but not a history lecture. However, at times the novel does favour explanatory detail over action a little too much. For instance, when Kirabo moves to boarding school, a lot of time is spent establishing this new setting, new characters and social hierarchy… but very little happens there, and the action soon moves away from the school again.
Like gravity and the tides, kweluma and mwenkanonkano are the forces that move this story. One or both of these forces influence every piece of the drama—friendships slowly eroding or smashing apart, first love, deaths and marriages. They even shape the stories that are passed down, whether they be ancient myths or recent family history. I prefer the US title, A Girl is a Body of Water, but either way this is a rich and rewarding read.
‘My grandmothers called it kweluma. That is when oppressed people turn on each other or on themselves and bite. It is as a form of relief. If you cannot bite your oppressor, you bite yourself.’
The First Woman is a feast of Ugandan history, language, culture, mythology but above all mwenkanonkano—a Luganda word that loosely translates as feminism, but this concept is older, local, not something imported from the west.
‘Any mwenkanonkano is radical. Talk about equality and men fall in epileptic fits.’
Kirabo is a bright, driven young girl coming of age in 1970s Uganda. She navigates a world shaped by patriarchy, colonialism, Idi Amin’s brutal regime, and complex overlapping hierarchies of clans, classes and ethnic groups. Kirabo’s extended family has its share of secrets and long-held grudges, not least of which is the identity of Kirabo’s own mother.
It sounds like a lot, but really this is a personal, character-driven story about Kirabo and her family. The rest is context—necessary context—but not a history lecture. However, at times the novel does favour explanatory detail over action a little too much. For instance, when Kirabo moves to boarding school, a lot of time is spent establishing this new setting, new characters and social hierarchy… but very little happens there, and the action soon moves away from the school again.
Like gravity and the tides, kweluma and mwenkanonkano are the forces that move this story. One or both of these forces influence every piece of the drama—friendships slowly eroding or smashing apart, first love, deaths and marriages. They even shape the stories that are passed down, whether they be ancient myths or recent family history. I prefer the US title, A Girl is a Body of Water, but either way this is a rich and rewarding read.
January 26, 2024
3.5*.
This is Kirabo's story. Kirabo whom her father, Tom, brought to his house and since then her grandparents were taking care of her. But as she grew up, Kirabo got curious about her mother and start searching about her. This search for her mother keeps is what the story about and this brings different people in her life.
I loved how the women are described in the book. They were strong and full of empathy. The intertwining web of past of Kirabo's grandmother and her best friend was perhaps my favorite part of the book. It was mesmerasing. The other thing that I liked about the book was the history of Uganda and how the time was like in 1930s and 1970s.
I am definitely look forward to reading other books by this author.
This is Kirabo's story. Kirabo whom her father, Tom, brought to his house and since then her grandparents were taking care of her. But as she grew up, Kirabo got curious about her mother and start searching about her. This search for her mother keeps is what the story about and this brings different people in her life.
I loved how the women are described in the book. They were strong and full of empathy. The intertwining web of past of Kirabo's grandmother and her best friend was perhaps my favorite part of the book. It was mesmerasing. The other thing that I liked about the book was the history of Uganda and how the time was like in 1930s and 1970s.
I am definitely look forward to reading other books by this author.
July 25, 2021
Now winner of the Jhalak Prize, shortlisted for the James Tait Black Memorial Prize and for the Royal Society of Literature Encore award.
I am still unclear how this failed to make at least the Women’s Prize longlist.
This book begins in a small Ugandan village in Bugerere county in 1975 and proceeds through to 1983 (with a lengthy and important backstory section in 1934-1945). The third person point of view main character is the (then) twelve year old Kirabo – motherless (her mother’s identity and story openly not explained to her) and with a businessman Father Tom (who makes flying visits to her from Kampala), she lives with her Grandfather Miiro (a local leader with a strong interest in education – particularly of girls) and Grandmother (Alikisa now Muka Miiro) and the extended tribal family that is always around their home. Her best friend is Giibwa (daughter of one of her Grandfather’s labourer) and she is attracted to Sio (the rather haughty, English-speaking son of a car owner from a nearby village)
The opening of the book has a distinctly magical realism feel – Kirabo, a born storyteller, seems prone to splitting in half, with a second, more outrageous side to her which manifests itself in out-of-body flights. Linking this to her missing knowledge of her mother she resolves to secretly visit the blind village witch – Nsuuta – with who her grandmother has a feud to Tom’s apparent treatment of Nsuuta as a second mother.
In what I found the strongest part of the book – it then takes what I found an impressively mythical turn, as Nsutta explains her theory that (see the opening quote to my review) Kirabo’s flights are proof that she retains a tie to the First Woman/the original free state of women. She then explains that the myth making of men in all societies (including the story of Kintu – the inspiration for the author’s debut novel) first of all acted to justify the subjugation of the earth to humans and then, crucially, was developed to justify the subjugation of women to men – something which was wider than Africa
And Nsutta’s further theory – one which gives the book its American title “A Girl is a Body of Water” and which she draws on African river spirits and creation myths, Greek Sirens, Western Mermaids and even Ursula Andrews (!) is that men associated women with water – both identifying them as mysterious and needing taming, and claiming the land for themselves.
The final strand of Nsutta’s teaching to Kirabo is that in effect much of the policing of the patriarchal society is done by women themselves – she uses the word kweluma to represent how oppressed people turn on each other (something Kirabo recognises as it is her Grandmother rather than her Grandfather or father who seeks to restrain her freedom).
Set against an evocative portrait of Ugandan village life this makes for a strong start and one which the rest of the book does not fully manage to sustain.
The second section of the book follows Kirabo as she is taken by her father Tommy to Kampala in 1977. There to her horror she finds she has a stepmother and step-siblings and relationships with her stepmother are strained on both sides.
The third section has village girl Kirabo attend a prestigious English language boarding school – her time there taking place against the increasing violence and disappearances (including Sio – now her boyfriend’s – father) and then civil war of Amin-era Uganda. The author has named Tsitsi Dangarembga’s “Nervous Conditions” as one of her key literary inspirations – but this reader was inevitably strongly reminded of “The Book of Not”.
More so than Tambu in that book though, Kirabo (who is starting to more actively search for her mother) also receives a sexual awakening in the school and grows in her belief in Mwenkanonkano (a word I think the author has coined as a Ugandan version of feminism).
In an interview for Powell’s she explained
Kirabo is encouraged in this by Sio, who also claims to support the idea albeit his actions with Giibwa cast some doubts on this and begins to drive a wedge between the two childhood friends over their regard for Sio. This story then receives an echo as we travel back to the 1930s and the shared love of Alikisa and the much more beautiful but also more ambitious Nsuuta for Miiro and the unravelling over many years of a childhood pact to share him.
From there though I felt the novel too unraveled – or perhaps my ability to access it was inadequate. A lengthy mourning and then will scene after a death left me struggling to follow the dynamics of the various family members and the interactions of the different clans and tribes, as well as some of the customs and language used. Further the resolution of the identity of Kirabo’s mother I found one generational link to many.
The ending of the novel – as Kirabo and Giibwa struggle to reconcile – returns to the feminist ideas combined with intersectionality - but in this case the way in which colour, religion, tribe, economic status, education level, language all put up man-made barriers to female unity – with kweluma preventing Mwenkanonkano.
Overall an ambitious book – which while strong failed for me to live up to its opening. I would not be at all surprised however to see this book deservedly do very well on
Prize lists.
I am still unclear how this failed to make at least the Women’s Prize longlist.
…. our Original State ….. was wonderful for us. We were not squeezed inside, we were huge, strong, bold, loud, proud, brave, independent. But it was too much for the world and they got rid of it. However occasionally the state is reborn in a girl like you. But in all cases it is suppressed
This book begins in a small Ugandan village in Bugerere county in 1975 and proceeds through to 1983 (with a lengthy and important backstory section in 1934-1945). The third person point of view main character is the (then) twelve year old Kirabo – motherless (her mother’s identity and story openly not explained to her) and with a businessman Father Tom (who makes flying visits to her from Kampala), she lives with her Grandfather Miiro (a local leader with a strong interest in education – particularly of girls) and Grandmother (Alikisa now Muka Miiro) and the extended tribal family that is always around their home. Her best friend is Giibwa (daughter of one of her Grandfather’s labourer) and she is attracted to Sio (the rather haughty, English-speaking son of a car owner from a nearby village)
The opening of the book has a distinctly magical realism feel – Kirabo, a born storyteller, seems prone to splitting in half, with a second, more outrageous side to her which manifests itself in out-of-body flights. Linking this to her missing knowledge of her mother she resolves to secretly visit the blind village witch – Nsuuta – with who her grandmother has a feud to Tom’s apparent treatment of Nsuuta as a second mother.
In what I found the strongest part of the book – it then takes what I found an impressively mythical turn, as Nsutta explains her theory that (see the opening quote to my review) Kirabo’s flights are proof that she retains a tie to the First Woman/the original free state of women. She then explains that the myth making of men in all societies (including the story of Kintu – the inspiration for the author’s debut novel) first of all acted to justify the subjugation of the earth to humans and then, crucially, was developed to justify the subjugation of women to men – something which was wider than Africa
But the Bible says that God created Adam and Eve in his own image.’ ‘If he created them in his own image,’ Nsuuta snapped, ‘then afterwards Adam re-created Eve in his own image, one that suited him
And Nsutta’s further theory – one which gives the book its American title “A Girl is a Body of Water” and which she draws on African river spirits and creation myths, Greek Sirens, Western Mermaids and even Ursula Andrews (!) is that men associated women with water – both identifying them as mysterious and needing taming, and claiming the land for themselves.
“They claimed that the very first woman rose out of the sea while the first man emerged from earth...both women and the sea were baffling...water has no shape...is inconsistent...cannot be tamed...you cannot draw borders on the ocean...land belonged with men".
The final strand of Nsutta’s teaching to Kirabo is that in effect much of the policing of the patriarchal society is done by women themselves – she uses the word kweluma to represent how oppressed people turn on each other (something Kirabo recognises as it is her Grandmother rather than her Grandfather or father who seeks to restrain her freedom).
‘Kirabo, have you seen God come down from heaven to make humans behave?’ ‘No.’ ‘That is because some people have appointed themselves his police. And I tell you, child, the police are far worse than God himself. That is why the day you catch your man with another woman, you will go for the woman and not him. My grandmothers called it kweluma. That is when oppressed people turn on each other or on themselves and bite. It is as a form of relief. If you cannot bite your oppressor, you bite yourself.”
Set against an evocative portrait of Ugandan village life this makes for a strong start and one which the rest of the book does not fully manage to sustain.
The second section of the book follows Kirabo as she is taken by her father Tommy to Kampala in 1977. There to her horror she finds she has a stepmother and step-siblings and relationships with her stepmother are strained on both sides.
The third section has village girl Kirabo attend a prestigious English language boarding school – her time there taking place against the increasing violence and disappearances (including Sio – now her boyfriend’s – father) and then civil war of Amin-era Uganda. The author has named Tsitsi Dangarembga’s “Nervous Conditions” as one of her key literary inspirations – but this reader was inevitably strongly reminded of “The Book of Not”.
More so than Tambu in that book though, Kirabo (who is starting to more actively search for her mother) also receives a sexual awakening in the school and grows in her belief in Mwenkanonkano (a word I think the author has coined as a Ugandan version of feminism).
In an interview for Powell’s she explained
I wanted to explore two things. One was the idea that feminism comes from the West, and therefore, feminism is destroying our culture. So I needed to locate feminism in my culture. For me, I had to start from the beginning. When did women start to get oppressed? I needed to look at my people, my culture, from the moment it happened: Why did it happen, and how did it happen?
All of that is geared towards showing my culture that we had feminist thought before the Western feminism came. If you think Western feminism is wrong, OK, let's get rid of it, but let's look at what we have here. In the end, you're going to find that they intersect.
Kirabo is encouraged in this by Sio, who also claims to support the idea albeit his actions with Giibwa cast some doubts on this and begins to drive a wedge between the two childhood friends over their regard for Sio. This story then receives an echo as we travel back to the 1930s and the shared love of Alikisa and the much more beautiful but also more ambitious Nsuuta for Miiro and the unravelling over many years of a childhood pact to share him.
From there though I felt the novel too unraveled – or perhaps my ability to access it was inadequate. A lengthy mourning and then will scene after a death left me struggling to follow the dynamics of the various family members and the interactions of the different clans and tribes, as well as some of the customs and language used. Further the resolution of the identity of Kirabo’s mother I found one generational link to many.
The ending of the novel – as Kirabo and Giibwa struggle to reconcile – returns to the feminist ideas combined with intersectionality - but in this case the way in which colour, religion, tribe, economic status, education level, language all put up man-made barriers to female unity – with kweluma preventing Mwenkanonkano.
Overall an ambitious book – which while strong failed for me to live up to its opening. I would not be at all surprised however to see this book deservedly do very well on
Prize lists.
July 23, 2024
Jennifer Nansubuga Makumbi's novel A Girl is a Body of Water is first and foremost a Ugandan tale. It is also a coming-of-age story, a look at feminism and friendship between women, an examination of class including differences between urban and rural communities, an exploration of the power of storytelling, and a sprawling family saga covering the years 1934 through 1983.
Kirabo, the main character, is 12 years old as the tale begins. We see her grow and become a strong woman through the years. As no person grows in isolation, this is also the story of the people and society, especially the girls and women, that surround her and how they interact with each other. Makumbi's rich portrayals of women showcase differing ideas of what it means to be a woman is this very patriarchal society. These women don't call themselves feminists. They wake up and perform their daily tasks using all the tools in their belts to make lives better for themselves and for their families. Sometimes they push, sometimes they cajole, sometimes they pretend to be weak, they compromise, and then they push again.
This work is a psychological novel, focused as much on the characters and their motivations as on plot. Makumbi is highly observant of people and has obviously paid attention to her family members and their stories through the years.
" ‘Kirabo, have you seen God come down from heaven to make humans behave?’
‘No.’
‘That is because some people have appointed themselves his police. And I tell you, child, the police are far worse than God himself. That is why the day you catch your man with another woman, you will go for the woman and not him. My grandmothers called it kweluma. That is when oppressed people turn on each other or on themselves and bite. It is as a form of relief. If you cannot bite your oppressor, you bite yourself.' ”
The history of Uganda is in the background. Idi Amin and those disappeared by his regime and the war with Tanzinia influence the characters without taking up a lot of space in the narrative.
Makumbi skillfully uses humor and irony to keep the story from becoming bogged down. Her writing is fresh and descriptive and is a joy to read. Two minor flaws for me: The book began with a lot of mythological mysticism which was dropped in the other sections of the book. I was hoping that more would be woven through the entire novel. And the back story of Grandmother and Nsuuta was inserted a bit awkwardly into the story about 3/4 of the way through.
Makumbi artfully weaves her themes, characters, and plot points through this ambitious work; and I put this one down with a sigh of satisfaction.
Publication 2020
Kirabo, the main character, is 12 years old as the tale begins. We see her grow and become a strong woman through the years. As no person grows in isolation, this is also the story of the people and society, especially the girls and women, that surround her and how they interact with each other. Makumbi's rich portrayals of women showcase differing ideas of what it means to be a woman is this very patriarchal society. These women don't call themselves feminists. They wake up and perform their daily tasks using all the tools in their belts to make lives better for themselves and for their families. Sometimes they push, sometimes they cajole, sometimes they pretend to be weak, they compromise, and then they push again.
This work is a psychological novel, focused as much on the characters and their motivations as on plot. Makumbi is highly observant of people and has obviously paid attention to her family members and their stories through the years.
" ‘Kirabo, have you seen God come down from heaven to make humans behave?’
‘No.’
‘That is because some people have appointed themselves his police. And I tell you, child, the police are far worse than God himself. That is why the day you catch your man with another woman, you will go for the woman and not him. My grandmothers called it kweluma. That is when oppressed people turn on each other or on themselves and bite. It is as a form of relief. If you cannot bite your oppressor, you bite yourself.' ”
The history of Uganda is in the background. Idi Amin and those disappeared by his regime and the war with Tanzinia influence the characters without taking up a lot of space in the narrative.
Makumbi skillfully uses humor and irony to keep the story from becoming bogged down. Her writing is fresh and descriptive and is a joy to read. Two minor flaws for me: The book began with a lot of mythological mysticism which was dropped in the other sections of the book. I was hoping that more would be woven through the entire novel. And the back story of Grandmother and Nsuuta was inserted a bit awkwardly into the story about 3/4 of the way through.
Makumbi artfully weaves her themes, characters, and plot points through this ambitious work; and I put this one down with a sigh of satisfaction.
Publication 2020
October 9, 2022
Set in Uganda in 1975 - 1983, this book starts with twelve-year-old strong-willed protagonist Kirabo living in a village with her grandparents. She has never known her mother, and her father only visits occasionally. Kirabo is a natural storyteller. She secretly visits local blind woman, Nsuuta, to find out about her mother, but the advice she receives only fuels her obsession. She meets Sio in her youth, and they develop a friendship that could develop into more, but Kirabo wants to continue her education, despite pressure to get married and have children. We follow Kirabo’s life as she moves to Kampala to live with her father and attends a Catholic boarding school for girls.
The characters are memorable, and the strong opening drew me in. The mystery of Kirabo’s mother compels the plot but I would not call this a typical mystery. The narrative focuses on the ways in which women adapt and change to overcome obstacles they face from this traditional patriarchal society. It conveys a strong sense of place, both in the rural and urban areas. The upheaval caused by Idi Amin’s dictatorship remains in the background but influences events in the storyline. There is one lengthy digression that returns to the past, told is epistolary style.
This book depicts Ugandan culture, storytelling traditions, rituals, polygamy, tribalism, clans, and rights of inheritance. The ending is satisfying and Kirabo finds a way to move forward. It is an example of Ugandan storytelling that covers so many aspects that we all encounter in life – emotions, conflicts, love, loss, friendship, and family ties. This is the first book I have read by Uganda-born author Jennifer Nansuguba Makumbi and I look forward to reading more.
The characters are memorable, and the strong opening drew me in. The mystery of Kirabo’s mother compels the plot but I would not call this a typical mystery. The narrative focuses on the ways in which women adapt and change to overcome obstacles they face from this traditional patriarchal society. It conveys a strong sense of place, both in the rural and urban areas. The upheaval caused by Idi Amin’s dictatorship remains in the background but influences events in the storyline. There is one lengthy digression that returns to the past, told is epistolary style.
This book depicts Ugandan culture, storytelling traditions, rituals, polygamy, tribalism, clans, and rights of inheritance. The ending is satisfying and Kirabo finds a way to move forward. It is an example of Ugandan storytelling that covers so many aspects that we all encounter in life – emotions, conflicts, love, loss, friendship, and family ties. This is the first book I have read by Uganda-born author Jennifer Nansuguba Makumbi and I look forward to reading more.
September 4, 2020
A Girl is a Body of Water, at its core, is a journey of girlhood into womanhood and introduces an array of characters: witches, wicked stepmothers, envious BFFs, striving feminists, obedient wives, absent mothers, disenfranchised widows, and budding careerists.
Yet at the core of the book is Kirabo, a girl who is journeying into womanhood in the 1970s, in Uganda whose mother left her when she was still an infant. Although well-loved by her grandparents, Kirabo feels as if there is two of her and one flies out of her body. Early on her grandfather’s lover, Nsuuta, a local witch, tells her that the reason is because “our original state is in you.”
“We were not squeezed inside, we were huge, strong, bold, loud, proud, brave, independent. But it was too much for the world and they got rid of it. However, occasionally that state is reborn in a girl like you. But in all cases, it is suppressed. IN your case the first woman flies out of your body because it does not relate to the way this society is.”
The beginning of this saga employs magical realism but as the plot evolves, it becomes a realistic coming of age story—and in many cases, a page-turning one. With an unabashedly feminist overtone, there are instances where feminism is explored across class lines, tribal lines, racial lines, and even colorism lines. All too often, Kirabo is forced to exist in a world that still wishes to silence women or to play them off against each other.
This saga has many strong points: a relatable protagonist, a page-turning plot, and a fascinating look at the folklore and daily life of women in a changing Uganda. It is also a tribute to the power of storytelling, particularly of origin stories, which are their own act of resistance. As Nsuuta says, “The minute we fall silent, someone will fill the silence for us.”
At times, there is a degree of authorial intrusion that breaks the flow as Jennifer Nansubuga Makumbi provides background or leads the reader on how to interpret a certain incident. At other times, the feminism message can be a bit obtrusive. Still, even with these flaws, I found myself eagerly turning pages and very invested—indeed, riveted--in Kirabo’s journey. Her growing wisdom and self-actualization is hard-earned and the saga hits all the right notes.
Yet at the core of the book is Kirabo, a girl who is journeying into womanhood in the 1970s, in Uganda whose mother left her when she was still an infant. Although well-loved by her grandparents, Kirabo feels as if there is two of her and one flies out of her body. Early on her grandfather’s lover, Nsuuta, a local witch, tells her that the reason is because “our original state is in you.”
“We were not squeezed inside, we were huge, strong, bold, loud, proud, brave, independent. But it was too much for the world and they got rid of it. However, occasionally that state is reborn in a girl like you. But in all cases, it is suppressed. IN your case the first woman flies out of your body because it does not relate to the way this society is.”
The beginning of this saga employs magical realism but as the plot evolves, it becomes a realistic coming of age story—and in many cases, a page-turning one. With an unabashedly feminist overtone, there are instances where feminism is explored across class lines, tribal lines, racial lines, and even colorism lines. All too often, Kirabo is forced to exist in a world that still wishes to silence women or to play them off against each other.
This saga has many strong points: a relatable protagonist, a page-turning plot, and a fascinating look at the folklore and daily life of women in a changing Uganda. It is also a tribute to the power of storytelling, particularly of origin stories, which are their own act of resistance. As Nsuuta says, “The minute we fall silent, someone will fill the silence for us.”
At times, there is a degree of authorial intrusion that breaks the flow as Jennifer Nansubuga Makumbi provides background or leads the reader on how to interpret a certain incident. At other times, the feminism message can be a bit obtrusive. Still, even with these flaws, I found myself eagerly turning pages and very invested—indeed, riveted--in Kirabo’s journey. Her growing wisdom and self-actualization is hard-earned and the saga hits all the right notes.
May 3, 2024
The Ganda did not celebrate birthdays - “What nonsense. Children do absolutely nothing on their arrival that warrants presents every year. If anything, they should give presents to their mothers, who come close to death.”
I couldn’t wait to read this as Makumbi’s Kintu “devoured my heart” - a phrase used in this book to mean something akin to “fell in love with”. Although this story eventually captured my attention, it didn’t come close to my heart.
First the premise: A Body of Water. We learn this comes from a myth, somewhat heavy handed and didactically delivered in the first explicative pages when our protagonista, a Ganda child named Kirabo, is receiving a backdoor education from her alternative grandmother, village witch (and actual nurse) Nsuuta.
We learn Man created myth in order to control and disown Woman. Men divided the world into land and water - men on land and women in water - using this to explain why the latter can’t own any land. Women, you understand, rose from the sea.
They are
“...baffling, changeful: today they are this, tomorrow they are that.”
“Water has no shape, it can be this, it can be that, depending on where it flows. The sea is inconstant, it cannot be tamed, it does not yield to human cultivation, it cannot be owned; you cannot draw borders on the ocean.”
So women became migrants on land, rootless. They are moved - by marriage or disenfranchisement - across places, clans, sans ownership of anything, even themselves as they were sold into other families, clans, religions - to the Arabs, for instance. They have no inheritance rights, even their children are property of the fathers.
After all, it was ForeTold. It’s Culture, it’s Tradition.
When I worked with Doctors Without Borders, Médecins Sans Frontières, in the far north of Uganda (Acholiland) - I wasn’t considered a normal woman, of course.
I often asked the men why women did all the work. Why are the women responsible for all the farming, fetching the water, planting and harvesting, all the childcare (often many children as birth control is hard to come by) cooking, cleaning, tending the fire, while the men drank, played cards, gambled, and spent their days doing exactly nothing? The men always had the same answer, accompanied by a snarky smile, “It’s our custom”.
A large part of my days there were spent caring for severely burned small children as cooking was done over open fires. Guess who is blamed when a small child falls into a fire? Right. The woman who is doing everything else, while the child’s father is away. His possible culpability is never considered.
A Body of Water.
I suppose it could imply endless possibilities. Water can flow anywhere It can be dangerous as floods, and hurricanes, it isn’t static. Heraclitus’ observation.
But aren’t women defined, don’t we have edges that are perturbable, offendable? Aren’t we all different? Isn’t it critically important for women, young women especially, to find out where those borders are, so she can fight like hell for them?
Kirabo is growing up, attending the elite girls school St. Theresa’s where the nuns work at creating a protective environment with some success. I thought this was great writing about the hilarious rivalry at between the ‘Career Women’ club and the ‘Homemakers’ club:
“If Homemakers committed suicide by drowning, Career Women would self-immolate, claiming that fire was by far the superior element.”
But the constant policing of each other and themselves, in and out of school, was exhausting:
“This was a society gripped not just by the fear of teenage pregnancies but by a certain nature in men. Boys and men were wolves - they had this overwhelming desire which, if stirred, made them animals. It fell on girls not to awaken the animal in men.”
Perfect logic, no? This is also the rationale behind hijab, as women need to hide their entire selves in burkas so men aren’t tempted to randomly attack them.
Remember - if you are raped, molested as a child, harassed at work - it is your fault. It’s what you wore, or your face, or maybe your legs. It is Just The Way Men Are, they can’t help themselves..
But, oh, BTW, these completely uncontrollable animals should (and do) run the world.
And what a fine job they’ve done.
Enough with the yuck of misogyny. Hard to look anywhere and not see it, isn’t it?
So I’ll end with small bits I enjoyed about the Ganda and the imposition of British “Time” like the birthday quote at the top. Really when you think about it, starting a “new day” at midnight is ridiculous. The Ganda knew a day began at daybreak. Months not starting with the moon? Nonsense, really.
Furthermore:
“Does counting the years make you live longer?”
“Rich people became even more powerful. They were the ones who could afford to buy time and fasten it on their wrists after the British took the natural clock out of the sky and chopped the day into twenty-four segments.”
Overall, though, for a book with more than 540 pages these tasty nibbles were too few and the hands were too heavy.
I couldn’t wait to read this as Makumbi’s Kintu “devoured my heart” - a phrase used in this book to mean something akin to “fell in love with”. Although this story eventually captured my attention, it didn’t come close to my heart.
First the premise: A Body of Water. We learn this comes from a myth, somewhat heavy handed and didactically delivered in the first explicative pages when our protagonista, a Ganda child named Kirabo, is receiving a backdoor education from her alternative grandmother, village witch (and actual nurse) Nsuuta.
We learn Man created myth in order to control and disown Woman. Men divided the world into land and water - men on land and women in water - using this to explain why the latter can’t own any land. Women, you understand, rose from the sea.
They are
“...baffling, changeful: today they are this, tomorrow they are that.”
“Water has no shape, it can be this, it can be that, depending on where it flows. The sea is inconstant, it cannot be tamed, it does not yield to human cultivation, it cannot be owned; you cannot draw borders on the ocean.”
So women became migrants on land, rootless. They are moved - by marriage or disenfranchisement - across places, clans, sans ownership of anything, even themselves as they were sold into other families, clans, religions - to the Arabs, for instance. They have no inheritance rights, even their children are property of the fathers.
After all, it was ForeTold. It’s Culture, it’s Tradition.
When I worked with Doctors Without Borders, Médecins Sans Frontières, in the far north of Uganda (Acholiland) - I wasn’t considered a normal woman, of course.
I often asked the men why women did all the work. Why are the women responsible for all the farming, fetching the water, planting and harvesting, all the childcare (often many children as birth control is hard to come by) cooking, cleaning, tending the fire, while the men drank, played cards, gambled, and spent their days doing exactly nothing? The men always had the same answer, accompanied by a snarky smile, “It’s our custom”.
A large part of my days there were spent caring for severely burned small children as cooking was done over open fires. Guess who is blamed when a small child falls into a fire? Right. The woman who is doing everything else, while the child’s father is away. His possible culpability is never considered.
A Body of Water.
I suppose it could imply endless possibilities. Water can flow anywhere It can be dangerous as floods, and hurricanes, it isn’t static. Heraclitus’ observation.
But aren’t women defined, don’t we have edges that are perturbable, offendable? Aren’t we all different? Isn’t it critically important for women, young women especially, to find out where those borders are, so she can fight like hell for them?
Kirabo is growing up, attending the elite girls school St. Theresa’s where the nuns work at creating a protective environment with some success. I thought this was great writing about the hilarious rivalry at between the ‘Career Women’ club and the ‘Homemakers’ club:
“If Homemakers committed suicide by drowning, Career Women would self-immolate, claiming that fire was by far the superior element.”
But the constant policing of each other and themselves, in and out of school, was exhausting:
“This was a society gripped not just by the fear of teenage pregnancies but by a certain nature in men. Boys and men were wolves - they had this overwhelming desire which, if stirred, made them animals. It fell on girls not to awaken the animal in men.”
Perfect logic, no? This is also the rationale behind hijab, as women need to hide their entire selves in burkas so men aren’t tempted to randomly attack them.
Remember - if you are raped, molested as a child, harassed at work - it is your fault. It’s what you wore, or your face, or maybe your legs. It is Just The Way Men Are, they can’t help themselves..
But, oh, BTW, these completely uncontrollable animals should (and do) run the world.
And what a fine job they’ve done.
Enough with the yuck of misogyny. Hard to look anywhere and not see it, isn’t it?
So I’ll end with small bits I enjoyed about the Ganda and the imposition of British “Time” like the birthday quote at the top. Really when you think about it, starting a “new day” at midnight is ridiculous. The Ganda knew a day began at daybreak. Months not starting with the moon? Nonsense, really.
Furthermore:
“Does counting the years make you live longer?”
“Rich people became even more powerful. They were the ones who could afford to buy time and fasten it on their wrists after the British took the natural clock out of the sky and chopped the day into twenty-four segments.”
Overall, though, for a book with more than 540 pages these tasty nibbles were too few and the hands were too heavy.
June 9, 2020
I read Jennifer Nansubuga Makumbi’s Kintu a while ago with my Read Around the World Bookclub and really liked it. The author is from Uganda but now lives in Manchester but both Kintu and her new novel First Woman are set in Uganda. First Woman is essentially a coming of age story, but it is also way more than that. The story starts in 1975, during Amin’s regime and we follow Kirabou’s journey from teenager into womanhood. Amin’s presence and the violence of those years are woven in the background, but the foreground is all about Kirabou: her longing for her birth mother, her sexual awakening, her place in the world. As with Kintu, Ugandan myth plays a huge part in this novel and I would say that even though you don’t need any knowledge of it to enjoy the novel, reading up about it would give you a deeper understanding. A truly feminist novel with some wonderful women characters and relationships. The book was set for a June release and only after reading it, did I realise that it has been pushed to October, I keep forgetting to check the change in dates due to the pandemic.
May 15, 2022
A powerful story about finding one’s own true voice. Rich with Ugandan folklore and culture, along with beautiful written scenes of emotion and grace, a Girl is a Body of Water is a tribute to young girls everywhere who are embracing themselves as women, as storytellers, and as boundary breakers.
April 29, 2022
This is a coming of age story set in Uganda, Africa (circa 1970's -1980's), featuring a young girl (Kirabo) who is 12 years old when the book begins. She lives with her grandparents (Miiro and Alikisia) who have been raising her, along with assorted cousins and aunts. Their home is hospitable to their neighbors' children as well. The reader will come to know that the family is large with complex relationships amongst kin. Kirabo is being raised with love, yet feels hurt that her father (Tom) only sees her at his convenience. Kirabo also wants to meet her own mother, whom she does not know.
The family and culture are patriarchal, with men being the heads of their households. Miiro (the grandfather) is affectionate and kind to his wife and daughters, yet is very much in control. Kirabo holds a special place in his heart. Their scenes together are tender.
Bigamy is accepted as part of the culture; Miiro does have a second wife who plays a pivotal role in the story. Other bigamous relationships are explored as well. At times, I wondered at the wives' relationships with each other. Sometimes they did not seem plausible to me.
Mwenkanonkano is the Luganda word for feminism. The world that Kirabo is living in is slowly changing. She is going to an excellent school and has plans to be a veterinarian. She expects to be treated well by a future husband. Later in the story, her grandfather gives her land and a house of her own, which is unheard of at the time. At times, the author seemed a bit heavy handed in pushing the feminist outlook.
For me, following Kirabo as she grew up was a delight. I found the book to be absorbing and original. I loved learning about Uganda: the language, traditions, and way of life. The only small criticism I have is that parts of the book were bogged down by too much explanation of minor characters.
This is a book that I will remember.
Memorable scenes: Spoiler
4.5 stars
** In an interview with writer Lily King, both authors discussed how creating stories and alternate versions of personal events (in their own lives) give them space to form a reality they can better live with. Makumbi said that she has been doing this all of her life.
The family and culture are patriarchal, with men being the heads of their households. Miiro (the grandfather) is affectionate and kind to his wife and daughters, yet is very much in control. Kirabo holds a special place in his heart. Their scenes together are tender.
Bigamy is accepted as part of the culture; Miiro does have a second wife who plays a pivotal role in the story. Other bigamous relationships are explored as well. At times, I wondered at the wives' relationships with each other. Sometimes they did not seem plausible to me.
Mwenkanonkano is the Luganda word for feminism. The world that Kirabo is living in is slowly changing. She is going to an excellent school and has plans to be a veterinarian. She expects to be treated well by a future husband. Later in the story, her grandfather gives her land and a house of her own, which is unheard of at the time. At times, the author seemed a bit heavy handed in pushing the feminist outlook.
For me, following Kirabo as she grew up was a delight. I found the book to be absorbing and original. I loved learning about Uganda: the language, traditions, and way of life. The only small criticism I have is that parts of the book were bogged down by too much explanation of minor characters.
This is a book that I will remember.
Memorable scenes: Spoiler
4.5 stars
** In an interview with writer Lily King, both authors discussed how creating stories and alternate versions of personal events (in their own lives) give them space to form a reality they can better live with. Makumbi said that she has been doing this all of her life.
July 5, 2022
4.5★ - this is something a bit special. Part family saga, part coming-of-age story, covering topics as wide-ranging as class, ethnicity, wealth, identity, feminism/mwenkanonkano, culture, love, property, politics and origin, Makumbi's book was an entertaining and enlightening fictional introduction to modern Uganda.
At the heart of the story is motherless Kirabo. We first meet her in 1975 at the age of 12, living in a small village with her widely respected and loving grandparents. She's a good student who often wonders about her absent mother and likes to tell folklore stories. She also has a tendency to fly outside of her own body, and for this reason she decides she needs to consult with Nsuuta, the blind witch who lives along the road and who is her grandmother's sworn enemy. Nsuuta thinks she can help, and the pair embark on a series of clandestine meetings until Grandmother finds out.
Soon the action moves to Kampala where Kirabo's father, Tom, lives. They've had a fairly casual relationship all through Kirabo's childhood, knowing each other mainly through Tom's rushed visits to the village. But the move is to facilitate Kirabo's graduation to secondary school, so she reluctantly travels to Kampala with him. Here, Kirabo's world expands and she gets to know her city relatives a lot better. She also thinks she might be closer to solving the mystery of her mother's identity.
Of course, it would be impossible to write a story set in Uganda during the 70s and not include at least something about Idi Amin's brutal regime. In fact, there's not a lot, because Kirabo's Ganda clan is not targeted for persecution, but their friends and neighbours are not so lucky. One violent incident (off the page) acts to bring Kirabo closer to Sio, a boy from her childhood, and he will have an enormous impact on her life. By contrast, the catastrophe that could be the catalyst for Kirabo finding her mother is much more mundane in nature, but equally tragic nonetheless.
As we follow Kirabo through to her late teens, the author also takes us back in time to meet Nsuuta and Grandmother at a similar age, to understand where their enmity arises from, and why Nsuuta has such an important role in Kirabo's family. Initially I wasn't sure I'd read this section closely, keen to get back to the 70s, but I was soon absorbed in the pre WW2 world of Nsuuta and Alikisa, and in many ways I thought they outshone the young girl.
I enjoyed this book so much I immediately sought out Makumbi's debut Kintu, which sounds like it could be a kind of Ugandan Homegoing. I look forward to reading more from this wonderful storyteller.
At the heart of the story is motherless Kirabo. We first meet her in 1975 at the age of 12, living in a small village with her widely respected and loving grandparents. She's a good student who often wonders about her absent mother and likes to tell folklore stories. She also has a tendency to fly outside of her own body, and for this reason she decides she needs to consult with Nsuuta, the blind witch who lives along the road and who is her grandmother's sworn enemy. Nsuuta thinks she can help, and the pair embark on a series of clandestine meetings until Grandmother finds out.
Soon the action moves to Kampala where Kirabo's father, Tom, lives. They've had a fairly casual relationship all through Kirabo's childhood, knowing each other mainly through Tom's rushed visits to the village. But the move is to facilitate Kirabo's graduation to secondary school, so she reluctantly travels to Kampala with him. Here, Kirabo's world expands and she gets to know her city relatives a lot better. She also thinks she might be closer to solving the mystery of her mother's identity.
Of course, it would be impossible to write a story set in Uganda during the 70s and not include at least something about Idi Amin's brutal regime. In fact, there's not a lot, because Kirabo's Ganda clan is not targeted for persecution, but their friends and neighbours are not so lucky. One violent incident (off the page) acts to bring Kirabo closer to Sio, a boy from her childhood, and he will have an enormous impact on her life. By contrast, the catastrophe that could be the catalyst for Kirabo finding her mother is much more mundane in nature, but equally tragic nonetheless.
As we follow Kirabo through to her late teens, the author also takes us back in time to meet Nsuuta and Grandmother at a similar age, to understand where their enmity arises from, and why Nsuuta has such an important role in Kirabo's family. Initially I wasn't sure I'd read this section closely, keen to get back to the 70s, but I was soon absorbed in the pre WW2 world of Nsuuta and Alikisa, and in many ways I thought they outshone the young girl.
I enjoyed this book so much I immediately sought out Makumbi's debut Kintu, which sounds like it could be a kind of Ugandan Homegoing. I look forward to reading more from this wonderful storyteller.
March 11, 2021
Brilliant.
The First Woman might even have surpassed Kintu which was fabulous and my outstanding read of 2018.
Firstly I am a huge fan of literature that takes us elsewhere, into the storytelling traditions of other cultures, seen from the inside, but told in a way that doesn't alienate a reader from outside that culture, but has both a particular and universal message.
With Jennifer Makumbi's storytelling, she has all the elements - great, unforgettable characters, a 'moving at pace' plot, a little bit of mystery, a whole lot of feminism and controversy and multiple perspectives and mini dramas and wise counsel and women who've had enough of the injustices of the past.
The contrast of a rural upbringing versus an urban existence, the striving for and effect of education on girls and the natural way that local Ugandan folklore and ancestral stories are part of a way of living and developing and coming of age, in helping young people travel through their concerns and sorrows and strange feelings and unanswered questions.
I recall that in Kintu Makumbi set part of her story in the pre-colonial 1700’s and other parts in modern times; colonial interlopers had left their imprint, however it was not their story nor a story of their influence, except to note the impact on the kingdom and so too is The First Woman that belongs to its people, whose existence grows and evolves from its own origins, belief systems and traditions and is challenged from within.
The narrative begins when Kirabo is a girl living with her grandmother, who develops a curiosity to know who her mother is, she is awakening to the deficit in her life and notices that those closest to her are unwilling to talk about her parents. So she seeks out Nsuutu, who some refer to as the witch, intuitively knowing she may have knowledge, visiting her in secret.
Nsuutu tells Kirabo that she has "the first woman" inside her. Her story is shared over various visits and sets up an extremely compelling narrative, as Kirabo learns from this wonderful, empowered but ageing feminist. However, she warns her not to go looking for her mother, an instruction that only feeds her obsession, making it all-consuming.
The story is divided into five sections; The Witch (Nattetta, Bugerere, Uganda 1975), The Bitch (Kampala 1977), Utopia, When The Villages Were Young (Nattetta 1934) and Why Penned Hens Peck Each Other (1983).
After Nsuutu's wise counsel, Kirabo's life is upended when it is announced she will go to Kampala to live with her father Tom, about whom she has never been curious. She has seen him on and off over the years as he visited the clan in the village where she lives, but now she will go and live with him in the city. And is shocked to discover that he has a wife and two children, her half siblings. They are equally surprised by her sudden appearance.
'Utopia' is when she is sent to St Theresa's, a girl's boarding school. An education, a world without men, though interrupted by war and expulsions that occur elsewhere, having the effect of changing the balance of power and perception among the girls as well, many will leave and a new influx will arrive.
The narrative then returns to the past, to 1934 when her grandmother Alikisa and Nsuutu were children and fills in the backstory to their friendship, a pact, their very different aspirations and the effect of the community on how their lives play out. Much of this section is told through letters they write to each other while Nsuutu is at nursing school and Alikisa is at home, having abandoned her plans to become a midwife, encouraged by her father towards teaching.
Finally, a family tragedy brings the entire clan together, and opinions are aired, grievances followed through, threads come together, some rifts are healed, others not, but there is the opportunity to break new ground, and move on from the past, without significant loss.
The First Woman is bold, empowered, authentic storytelling of the highest order, that embraces its cultural origins and invites us all to consider the universal emotions, questions, conflicts, shame, friendships, love and humanity it shares.
It is both a story and an act of courage that asks men and women to consider their roles and the effect their decisions have on others and imagine an alternative way, a kinder, more just way of being, rather than repeating the same patters that have existed. At the same time, it shows just how complex human relationships and tendencies are and what a task it is for us to evolve in a way that benefits all.
The First Woman might even have surpassed Kintu which was fabulous and my outstanding read of 2018.
Firstly I am a huge fan of literature that takes us elsewhere, into the storytelling traditions of other cultures, seen from the inside, but told in a way that doesn't alienate a reader from outside that culture, but has both a particular and universal message.
With Jennifer Makumbi's storytelling, she has all the elements - great, unforgettable characters, a 'moving at pace' plot, a little bit of mystery, a whole lot of feminism and controversy and multiple perspectives and mini dramas and wise counsel and women who've had enough of the injustices of the past.
The contrast of a rural upbringing versus an urban existence, the striving for and effect of education on girls and the natural way that local Ugandan folklore and ancestral stories are part of a way of living and developing and coming of age, in helping young people travel through their concerns and sorrows and strange feelings and unanswered questions.
I recall that in Kintu Makumbi set part of her story in the pre-colonial 1700’s and other parts in modern times; colonial interlopers had left their imprint, however it was not their story nor a story of their influence, except to note the impact on the kingdom and so too is The First Woman that belongs to its people, whose existence grows and evolves from its own origins, belief systems and traditions and is challenged from within.
The narrative begins when Kirabo is a girl living with her grandmother, who develops a curiosity to know who her mother is, she is awakening to the deficit in her life and notices that those closest to her are unwilling to talk about her parents. So she seeks out Nsuutu, who some refer to as the witch, intuitively knowing she may have knowledge, visiting her in secret.
Nsuutu tells Kirabo that she has "the first woman" inside her. Her story is shared over various visits and sets up an extremely compelling narrative, as Kirabo learns from this wonderful, empowered but ageing feminist. However, she warns her not to go looking for her mother, an instruction that only feeds her obsession, making it all-consuming.
The story is divided into five sections; The Witch (Nattetta, Bugerere, Uganda 1975), The Bitch (Kampala 1977), Utopia, When The Villages Were Young (Nattetta 1934) and Why Penned Hens Peck Each Other (1983).
After Nsuutu's wise counsel, Kirabo's life is upended when it is announced she will go to Kampala to live with her father Tom, about whom she has never been curious. She has seen him on and off over the years as he visited the clan in the village where she lives, but now she will go and live with him in the city. And is shocked to discover that he has a wife and two children, her half siblings. They are equally surprised by her sudden appearance.
'Utopia' is when she is sent to St Theresa's, a girl's boarding school. An education, a world without men, though interrupted by war and expulsions that occur elsewhere, having the effect of changing the balance of power and perception among the girls as well, many will leave and a new influx will arrive.
The narrative then returns to the past, to 1934 when her grandmother Alikisa and Nsuutu were children and fills in the backstory to their friendship, a pact, their very different aspirations and the effect of the community on how their lives play out. Much of this section is told through letters they write to each other while Nsuutu is at nursing school and Alikisa is at home, having abandoned her plans to become a midwife, encouraged by her father towards teaching.
Finally, a family tragedy brings the entire clan together, and opinions are aired, grievances followed through, threads come together, some rifts are healed, others not, but there is the opportunity to break new ground, and move on from the past, without significant loss.
The First Woman is bold, empowered, authentic storytelling of the highest order, that embraces its cultural origins and invites us all to consider the universal emotions, questions, conflicts, shame, friendships, love and humanity it shares.
It is both a story and an act of courage that asks men and women to consider their roles and the effect their decisions have on others and imagine an alternative way, a kinder, more just way of being, rather than repeating the same patters that have existed. At the same time, it shows just how complex human relationships and tendencies are and what a task it is for us to evolve in a way that benefits all.
November 24, 2024
I enjoyed this book so much. Well written.
Read
June 22, 2022If you asked me what this book made me feel; I’d have one word: FULL
There were so many interesting and relevant themes that the author treated in details. I was very impressed.
I read it a bit more slowly than usual but I savoured every bit of it. I also found out that the same story had two titles. Both fitting I must add.
A Girl is a Body of Water || The First woman
This book was in five parts
Themes;
🔆indigenous feminism; mwenkanonkano: meaning women's movement and the feminist movement
🔆Patriarchy
🔆Political unrest in Uganda under Idi Amin
🔆 Communal involvement in marriage and raising of children
🔆Traditional expectations ; male and female roles in marriage
🔆 Rites of passage: interesting amongst these was the topic of Labia stretching (it was really new to me)
🔆Family
🔆Friendship and Promises (pacts )
🔆Tribalism / ethnicity
🔆 Education
🔆 Coming of age issues; relationships; platonic and romantic, life in school, dysmenorrhea, growing apart
🔆 Death and illness and dealing with loss
The one thing that did not quite do it for me was the business of Kirabo looking for her mother. That part of the story even though was the major event that led to Kirabo’s curiosity was somehow off for me.
Abi and Nsuuta were women I really admired. Even Alikisa was one of the strong women in the life of Kirabo.
Miiro was a man after my own heart . I liked how he stood up for the women in his life in his own way.
I somehow regret that I don’t speak the dialect in the story. I think prior knowledge in things like that make the story more relatable.
🔆Some quotes
“Stories are critical, Kirabo,” she added thoughtfully. “The minute we fall silent, someone will fill the silence for us.”
“Any mwenkanonkano is radical. Talk about equality and men, fall in epileptic fits.”
“If love does not come to us, we don’t go chasing after it. We are enough.”
“we are our circumstances. And until we have experienced all the circumstances the world can throw at us, seen all the versions we can be, we cannot claim to know ourselves. How, then, do we start to know someone else?”
“That is why the day you catch your man with another woman, you will go for the woman and not him. My grandmothers called it kweluma. That is when oppressed people turn on each other or on themselves and bite. It is as a form of relief. If you cannot bite your oppressor, you bite yourself.”
“From where the world starts to where it ends, when women start to lament men the sun could drop from the sky and they would not realise. ”
“Love is blood choosing blood. Nothing to do with the heart. The heart speaks, you can reason with it. But blood? Blood is inexorable. Once it has decided, it has decided.”
“The problem with women is,” another clan head explained, “you give them an inch, they demand an acre”
There were so many interesting and relevant themes that the author treated in details. I was very impressed.
I read it a bit more slowly than usual but I savoured every bit of it. I also found out that the same story had two titles. Both fitting I must add.
A Girl is a Body of Water || The First woman
This book was in five parts
Themes;
🔆indigenous feminism; mwenkanonkano: meaning women's movement and the feminist movement
🔆Patriarchy
🔆Political unrest in Uganda under Idi Amin
🔆 Communal involvement in marriage and raising of children
🔆Traditional expectations ; male and female roles in marriage
🔆 Rites of passage: interesting amongst these was the topic of Labia stretching (it was really new to me)
🔆Family
🔆Friendship and Promises (pacts )
🔆Tribalism / ethnicity
🔆 Education
🔆 Coming of age issues; relationships; platonic and romantic, life in school, dysmenorrhea, growing apart
🔆 Death and illness and dealing with loss
The one thing that did not quite do it for me was the business of Kirabo looking for her mother. That part of the story even though was the major event that led to Kirabo’s curiosity was somehow off for me.
Abi and Nsuuta were women I really admired. Even Alikisa was one of the strong women in the life of Kirabo.
Miiro was a man after my own heart . I liked how he stood up for the women in his life in his own way.
I somehow regret that I don’t speak the dialect in the story. I think prior knowledge in things like that make the story more relatable.
🔆Some quotes
“Stories are critical, Kirabo,” she added thoughtfully. “The minute we fall silent, someone will fill the silence for us.”
“Any mwenkanonkano is radical. Talk about equality and men, fall in epileptic fits.”
“If love does not come to us, we don’t go chasing after it. We are enough.”
“we are our circumstances. And until we have experienced all the circumstances the world can throw at us, seen all the versions we can be, we cannot claim to know ourselves. How, then, do we start to know someone else?”
“That is why the day you catch your man with another woman, you will go for the woman and not him. My grandmothers called it kweluma. That is when oppressed people turn on each other or on themselves and bite. It is as a form of relief. If you cannot bite your oppressor, you bite yourself.”
“From where the world starts to where it ends, when women start to lament men the sun could drop from the sky and they would not realise. ”
“Love is blood choosing blood. Nothing to do with the heart. The heart speaks, you can reason with it. But blood? Blood is inexorable. Once it has decided, it has decided.”
“The problem with women is,” another clan head explained, “you give them an inch, they demand an acre”
April 3, 2022
Read this one as the first book of The Chunky Chapter book club. It was a solid first pick.
A historical fiction book following Kirabo growing up in 1970s Uganda. It is a great look at what life for woman was like, their expectations, various family situations and more. I liked all of the different discussions going on in here in regards to gender roles but overall didn't fall in love with this one. (Maybe a 3.5 star rating?)
Watch me discuss this in my March wrap up https://youtu.be/KS2pdNwyfaY
A historical fiction book following Kirabo growing up in 1970s Uganda. It is a great look at what life for woman was like, their expectations, various family situations and more. I liked all of the different discussions going on in here in regards to gender roles but overall didn't fall in love with this one. (Maybe a 3.5 star rating?)
Watch me discuss this in my March wrap up https://youtu.be/KS2pdNwyfaY
August 23, 2020
Makumbi has done it again. What a genius. I just finished this novel and while I'm letting its words marinate inside me, I feel inspired and empowered to do something, you know? I want to achieve a goal. It's always a joy to see a master storyteller at work and Makumbi is just *chef's kiss*
January 11, 2021
Jennifer's prose is very innovative. I am excited to be having a conversation with her as part of a forthcoming festival in the Netherlands.
February 22, 2021
I thought this author’s Kintu was great, and was excited to read this book. Kintu focuses mostly on men, and the author describes it as “masculinist” for its examination of how patriarchy hurts men, while this book is intended to be her feminist work. And it is, focusing on a Ugandan girl, Kirabo, and her female relatives, and the way they make their life decisions around expectations for women. Like Kintu, this one appears to be written first for a Ugandan audience, which is to the book’s credit: it doesn’t explain or simplify cultural references, and its way of expressing character or emotion can be a little different than typical Anglophone fiction. But Makumbi is a good storyteller who writes with a lot of dialogue and straightforward sentences, so no one should be intimidated. You don’t have to understand what everybody’s name means to enjoy the story.
The book is set primarily in the 1970s and 80s, as Kirabo grows up in her grandparents’ house in the country, then attends a prestigious boarding school. There’s also a lengthy backstory section dealing with Kirabo’s grandmother, Alikisa, and her best friend, Nsuuta. The book mostly follows Kirabo’s various relationships: with her grandparents, her mostly-absentee father, her aunt Abi, her childhood best friend, her first boyfriend, and with Nsuuta, a great-aunt figure who tries to instill in her a feminist consciousness and generosity toward other women. Though Makumbi largely avoids the word “feminism,” which the characters associate with foreigners, in favor of “mwenkanonkano,” the homegrown Ugandan version, focused on the issues facing Ugandan women. A primary issue for her is the way patriarchy can make women turn on each other, which is a worthy theme but also seemed a bit old hat to me—presumably not, however, for her primary audience.
I suspect I’d have liked this novel much better had it, like Kintu, consisted of the interwoven stories of several main characters, rather than just Kirabo, whom I disliked as a protagonist. Now, I generally dislike child protagonists, finding that their relative lack of agency and life experience makes them less interesting, and while Kirabo—age 12 at the beginning and 19 at the end—isn’t exactly a child, she’s very much a child protagonist. She makes no major life decisions and doesn’t drive the story so much as drift through it; she doesn’t fight for anything or yearn for anything other than to meet her birth mother, though even that lessens with age. She spends the entire novel in school, which is not true of all her contemporaries but which is a given in her family. At times she almost literally disappears, without harm to the story: the several pages detailing on the effects of the civil war at boarding school, for instance, work well while giving no sense of Kirabo’s individual experiences or feelings at all.
This is very much a novel about the lives women negotiate for themselves within a patriarchal system, and there are a lot of interesting women in it. There’s Kirabo’s aunt Abi, an independent and liberated single woman who nevertheless hates her brother’s wife for breaking the traditional wifely mold. There’s Nsuuta, the old blind woman with her ideas of sisterhood and sexual equality, who was once a nurse and now claims to be a witch. There are women negotiating their roles within marriage and clan: Nnambi, who’s fighting for a more modern marriage where she can focus on her nuclear family without propitiating her husband’s clan; Gayi, who runs away to marry across ethnic and religious lines; Nsangi, whose age allows her to take an almost patriarchal role in the family. And then there are the more modern boarding school girls, particularly Kirabo’s sweet and ambitious friend Atim, whom I’d have loved to see more of. I wish we could have seen more of all these ladies, and not filtered through Kirabo.
It doesn’t help that Kirabo herself is rather obnoxious and self-centered, which is not uncommon for her age, but for me unpleasantness works better on more dynamic or complex characters. Worse, growing up never involves working on her flaws. I think the reader is intended to have far more sympathy for her stepmother than Kirabo ever does (immediately forgetting Nsuuta’s advice to be forgiving of other women). But Kirabo herself never reaches the point of considering why other people might have made the decisions they did rather than simply lashing out and seeking revenge for her own pain. I was disappointed when even at the end of the book she’s out for vengeance for her birth mother’s abandonment rather than attempting to understand what it would be like to give birth at 13(!) in a society where young single motherhood means an end to dreams for both schooling and marriage, and appreciating that she was raised by many loving relatives.
Despite the largely negative commentary, however, I did enjoy reading the book. The pages turn quickly, there’s a lot going on, a lot of interesting characters in it, and it’s a window into a society I know very little about, with a little bit of history as backdrop to the characters’ personal stories. The writing is good and thoughtful and the dialogue feels real. Definitely worth a read for those who are interested.
The book is set primarily in the 1970s and 80s, as Kirabo grows up in her grandparents’ house in the country, then attends a prestigious boarding school. There’s also a lengthy backstory section dealing with Kirabo’s grandmother, Alikisa, and her best friend, Nsuuta. The book mostly follows Kirabo’s various relationships: with her grandparents, her mostly-absentee father, her aunt Abi, her childhood best friend, her first boyfriend, and with Nsuuta, a great-aunt figure who tries to instill in her a feminist consciousness and generosity toward other women. Though Makumbi largely avoids the word “feminism,” which the characters associate with foreigners, in favor of “mwenkanonkano,” the homegrown Ugandan version, focused on the issues facing Ugandan women. A primary issue for her is the way patriarchy can make women turn on each other, which is a worthy theme but also seemed a bit old hat to me—presumably not, however, for her primary audience.
I suspect I’d have liked this novel much better had it, like Kintu, consisted of the interwoven stories of several main characters, rather than just Kirabo, whom I disliked as a protagonist. Now, I generally dislike child protagonists, finding that their relative lack of agency and life experience makes them less interesting, and while Kirabo—age 12 at the beginning and 19 at the end—isn’t exactly a child, she’s very much a child protagonist. She makes no major life decisions and doesn’t drive the story so much as drift through it; she doesn’t fight for anything or yearn for anything other than to meet her birth mother, though even that lessens with age. She spends the entire novel in school, which is not true of all her contemporaries but which is a given in her family. At times she almost literally disappears, without harm to the story: the several pages detailing on the effects of the civil war at boarding school, for instance, work well while giving no sense of Kirabo’s individual experiences or feelings at all.
This is very much a novel about the lives women negotiate for themselves within a patriarchal system, and there are a lot of interesting women in it. There’s Kirabo’s aunt Abi, an independent and liberated single woman who nevertheless hates her brother’s wife for breaking the traditional wifely mold. There’s Nsuuta, the old blind woman with her ideas of sisterhood and sexual equality, who was once a nurse and now claims to be a witch. There are women negotiating their roles within marriage and clan: Nnambi, who’s fighting for a more modern marriage where she can focus on her nuclear family without propitiating her husband’s clan; Gayi, who runs away to marry across ethnic and religious lines; Nsangi, whose age allows her to take an almost patriarchal role in the family. And then there are the more modern boarding school girls, particularly Kirabo’s sweet and ambitious friend Atim, whom I’d have loved to see more of. I wish we could have seen more of all these ladies, and not filtered through Kirabo.
It doesn’t help that Kirabo herself is rather obnoxious and self-centered, which is not uncommon for her age, but for me unpleasantness works better on more dynamic or complex characters. Worse, growing up never involves working on her flaws. I think the reader is intended to have far more sympathy for her stepmother than Kirabo ever does (immediately forgetting Nsuuta’s advice to be forgiving of other women). But Kirabo herself never reaches the point of considering why other people might have made the decisions they did rather than simply lashing out and seeking revenge for her own pain. I was disappointed when even at the end of the book she’s out for vengeance for her birth mother’s abandonment rather than attempting to understand what it would be like to give birth at 13(!) in a society where young single motherhood means an end to dreams for both schooling and marriage, and appreciating that she was raised by many loving relatives.
Despite the largely negative commentary, however, I did enjoy reading the book. The pages turn quickly, there’s a lot going on, a lot of interesting characters in it, and it’s a window into a society I know very little about, with a little bit of history as backdrop to the characters’ personal stories. The writing is good and thoughtful and the dialogue feels real. Definitely worth a read for those who are interested.
January 29, 2022
I belong to a group called Reading the World. When I joined the group in 2016, there were 196 countries in the world. It has been my goal to read a book situated in each of these countries. My newest addition to this list of countries read is Uganda, the site of A Girl Is a Body of Water. This is number 87 on my list. I have a long way to go, don't I?
Kirabo is a young girl of 12. She has been brought up by her paternal grandparents. Her mother left the family when she was small. Her father Tom has married another woman. He lives in another village.
We learn much of the culture of Uganda through the descriptions of the many characters.
Alikisa - Karabo's paternal grandmother.
Miiro- her paternal grandfather.
Nsuuta- Alikisa's best friend when they were girls
Giibwa- Karabo's best friend
Nnambi- Tom's second wife
Sio- Kirabo's love interest
Storytelling is an essential element of this book. Early on, Kirabo begs Nsuuta to tell the story of why women had the position they occupied in society.
“Ancients saw the universe as divided into four realms. The first realm was heaven.” She wrote HEAVEN where North would be. “Then UNDERWORLD.” She placed it on the South point. "Then SEA". She placed it on the West point. “And finally, LAND.” She placed it on the East point.
“Heaven was the world of the gods, yes?” “Yes.” “The underworld is where the dead begin a new life—yes?” “If land belonged to man, what is left?” “The sea.” “Ah haa. The sea, the ancients claimed, was woman’s realm.” “Whaat? Women belonged in water?” “And if they did, they could not share in land wealth, could they? ‘If you want property,’ they told women ancients, ‘go back to your sea and grab to your heart’s content.’”
Luckily for Kirabo, Grandfather was a part of the school system. Grandfather’s mantra was “A girl uneducated is an oppressed wife in the making.” We know Kirabo will be educated and not oppressed.
We follow Kirabo's life from age 12 (1975) to age 20. During this time, she seeks her mother. Her relationship with her father and step-mother change.
I was lucky to not only read, but listen to this book on audible. Some of the time, Gandan is spoken; others a kind of pidgen English.
One of the phrases used which I encountered was "thought I was munching myself".
Example: Tom turned away, his body saying Don’t be tedious. But then he said, “I thought I said this is her home, or was I munching myself?”
This way of saying "kidding myself" always brought a smile to my face.
4 stars
Kirabo is a young girl of 12. She has been brought up by her paternal grandparents. Her mother left the family when she was small. Her father Tom has married another woman. He lives in another village.
We learn much of the culture of Uganda through the descriptions of the many characters.
Alikisa - Karabo's paternal grandmother.
Miiro- her paternal grandfather.
Nsuuta- Alikisa's best friend when they were girls
Giibwa- Karabo's best friend
Nnambi- Tom's second wife
Sio- Kirabo's love interest
Storytelling is an essential element of this book. Early on, Kirabo begs Nsuuta to tell the story of why women had the position they occupied in society.
“Ancients saw the universe as divided into four realms. The first realm was heaven.” She wrote HEAVEN where North would be. “Then UNDERWORLD.” She placed it on the South point. "Then SEA". She placed it on the West point. “And finally, LAND.” She placed it on the East point.
“Heaven was the world of the gods, yes?” “Yes.” “The underworld is where the dead begin a new life—yes?” “If land belonged to man, what is left?” “The sea.” “Ah haa. The sea, the ancients claimed, was woman’s realm.” “Whaat? Women belonged in water?” “And if they did, they could not share in land wealth, could they? ‘If you want property,’ they told women ancients, ‘go back to your sea and grab to your heart’s content.’”
Luckily for Kirabo, Grandfather was a part of the school system. Grandfather’s mantra was “A girl uneducated is an oppressed wife in the making.” We know Kirabo will be educated and not oppressed.
We follow Kirabo's life from age 12 (1975) to age 20. During this time, she seeks her mother. Her relationship with her father and step-mother change.
I was lucky to not only read, but listen to this book on audible. Some of the time, Gandan is spoken; others a kind of pidgen English.
One of the phrases used which I encountered was "thought I was munching myself".
Example: Tom turned away, his body saying Don’t be tedious. But then he said, “I thought I said this is her home, or was I munching myself?”
This way of saying "kidding myself" always brought a smile to my face.
4 stars
November 3, 2021
Rich, Wise, Humorous, a coming-of-age tale of girlhood, that captures Ugandan history through the lens of an endearing protagonist.
Makumbi is a force, she captures the rich complex social dynamics of Ugandan history that always leaves me breathless. In this tale, we follow twelve-year-old Kirabo with a relentless drive to find her mother whilst grappling with traditional ways that for the most part cloud the small community, and through folk stories & myths she dissects these feminist topics in a nuanced way.
Makumbi is a force, she captures the rich complex social dynamics of Ugandan history that always leaves me breathless. In this tale, we follow twelve-year-old Kirabo with a relentless drive to find her mother whilst grappling with traditional ways that for the most part cloud the small community, and through folk stories & myths she dissects these feminist topics in a nuanced way.
August 3, 2021
The start of this book threw me in doubt as to whether I’d finish it because it felt like much of the current women’s African literature out there at present. And after having been thoroughly disappointed by the author’s short story collection Manchester Happened, I started feeling that maybe she was a one-hit wonder for me, with her phenomenal book Kintu being the one-hit. Kintu was so brilliant in story and execution that it is in my favorite’s shelf, so I persevered on with The First Woman. Good call.
Once the parallels between Kirabo’s story and that of her grandmother and Nsuuta were established, the fun and page-turning picked up. What I notice is Makumbi’s greatest talent in writing a novel is her using literary devices to serve the story that needs to be told. There are no gimmicks and there is no pretentiousness, and best of all, the author does not interject in the story. I was always with the characters and became wrapped up in their emotions and worked up with their dilemmas. There is nothing more lovely than being swept up into the novel’s story and forgetting I was once an editor.
Back to Mukumbi’s talent, her structural outlay of storytelling is positioning the right chapters at the right moment. She did this amazingly well in Kintu (a much more complicated novel) and she showed her brilliance yet again in this novel. And when I realized the set up of the parallel dilemma’s between Kirabo’s situation with Sio and that of Grandmother, Nsuuta and Grandfather, Makumbi used the comparison just enough to highlight recurrence in the women’s plight in the culture and the ease with which one can fall into hypocrisy, yet the comparison was not overused to the point of shallowness or predictability of the protagonist’s outcome.
Makumbi’s other talent in both novels is to open up my eyes and immerse me in Ugandan culture and rural life by showing me how her characters live, love, interact, dream, suffer and have pleasure. Stories and beliefs shared through generations within clans begin to shine through Makumbi’s own story. Finally, the issues of the women and the clan’s view of their inferiority compared to the men is beautifully illustrated without wagging fingers or blaming, but instead through logical analysis of the emotions driving these powerful women to succeed in both life and family. A highly recommended read, especially to those who enjoy modern African writing.
Once the parallels between Kirabo’s story and that of her grandmother and Nsuuta were established, the fun and page-turning picked up. What I notice is Makumbi’s greatest talent in writing a novel is her using literary devices to serve the story that needs to be told. There are no gimmicks and there is no pretentiousness, and best of all, the author does not interject in the story. I was always with the characters and became wrapped up in their emotions and worked up with their dilemmas. There is nothing more lovely than being swept up into the novel’s story and forgetting I was once an editor.
Back to Mukumbi’s talent, her structural outlay of storytelling is positioning the right chapters at the right moment. She did this amazingly well in Kintu (a much more complicated novel) and she showed her brilliance yet again in this novel. And when I realized the set up of the parallel dilemma’s between Kirabo’s situation with Sio and that of Grandmother, Nsuuta and Grandfather, Makumbi used the comparison just enough to highlight recurrence in the women’s plight in the culture and the ease with which one can fall into hypocrisy, yet the comparison was not overused to the point of shallowness or predictability of the protagonist’s outcome.
Makumbi’s other talent in both novels is to open up my eyes and immerse me in Ugandan culture and rural life by showing me how her characters live, love, interact, dream, suffer and have pleasure. Stories and beliefs shared through generations within clans begin to shine through Makumbi’s own story. Finally, the issues of the women and the clan’s view of their inferiority compared to the men is beautifully illustrated without wagging fingers or blaming, but instead through logical analysis of the emotions driving these powerful women to succeed in both life and family. A highly recommended read, especially to those who enjoy modern African writing.
December 12, 2020
This is my first book by this author so I went in not knowing what to expect style-wise, but knowing I very much was interested in the coming-of-age Ugandan historical fiction premise of Kirabo, a young, motherless girl trying to understand her identity as a woman and why she feels the need to minimize the uncontrollable parts of her spirit, as she moves from girlhood to young womanhood.
I was a little torn on how to rate this novel because the style of storytelling is not necessarily my preference but the thesis it presents and provides evidence for over and over again, is so strong and artistically-presented, so real and relatable to me as an African woman that I have to rate it highly. There is somewhat of a non-fiction vibe to this even though this book is strongly character-based with a focus on how the characters interact with womanhood and cultural femininity. The non-fiction vibe is further emphasized by the fact that the plot isn’t the strongest and the story is mostly told through an editorial writing style in which the main characters analyze things that happen to them through a gender lens. This analysis of how we as women have come to the position we are in where we face discrimination, subjugation and are positioned as less than socioculturally is the strength and main thrust of this novel. I don’t feel like the story would stand on its own and hold itself up without the countless hypotheses on why women are feared, why women are discriminated against, why men think they own women, why women allow themselves to be owned, why women attack each other sometimes etc etc. It’s a book about power dynamics and how the power of women over time, has been taken away or lost from what the first woman had.
Thesis-wise and realness wise, this is a 5-star book for me. The ideas whilst not always especially novel, are well curated from (African) tradition and creatively presented through the characters. The language and the writing is beyond stellar- the way the author expresses her ideas through the characters had me highlighting entire pages because you can tell the craftsmanship of every phrase. This was not effortlessly written. You can feel the sweat of the author writing her socks off and wanting to get each turn of phrase exactly right, and absolutely deserving every accolade this is going to get! This felt like the experience you get reading an article or a memoir that has you nodding and beating your drum in agreement.
But story-wise, this wasn’t so great for me. It is not that the story(ies) weren’t interesting, strong or relatable. They absolutely were. Or at least, the characters were. They were viscerally real to me and my cultural experience, and that is why in the presentation of the book, I don’t feel the stories lived up to their full potential. The thesis elements of the book came out stronger than the characters. It didn’t feel like a book about specific characters and people to me, but a book about society and its issues. It’s not really a book about Kirabo’s coming of age, but a book about how women and society interact. Kirabo, Alikisa and Nsuuta felt like devices to make a point and Miiro and Tom just felt like they were there to fill the role as male allies. To me, feeling like I knew these characters, and also feeling like I could see their rich story potential, it felt a little like a disservice to them. It didn’t feel like these characters owned the stories, rather the author’s voice and agenda (both of which WERE fantastic) felt very front and center and louder than the characters. I never felt fully immersed in the story but rather immersed in the author’s ideas and thoughts. It felt very deliberately all about the quotable moment, the strategic communication opportunity, the message, the perfect turn of phrase rather than the storytelling, the emotion and the characters, which often felt a little secondary. In every event, never a teaching moment was left to go abegging. I agree that much of life and our daily experiences are gendered and I feel like this author wanted to present that within almost every single plot event in the book- and for me, it felt a little repetitive at times. For me, I wish a little more trust had been placed in the story to convey what was necessary and in me as a reader to deduce and form my own opinions from the events without as much spoon-feeding. Clearly, this immensely-talented author expressed said opinions in writing far better than I could have in my dreams, but it felt like nothing was left to deduction, nothing was left to interpretation- at every moment, it felt like as a reader, I wasn’t trusted to know what to think or what to feel or to get “the moral of the story.” This made it feel a little slow and meandering at times when every “i” is dotted and every “t” was crossed so deliberately.
This book discusses ideas around society and the issue of discrimination and fear of equality and of women and of ownership and oppression very succinctly. Because there’s so much message and thematic content in this, I would almost recommend approaching this almost like a series of essays or experiences with an interesting plot otherwise it feels a little like you’re being bombarded with “messages” at every turn (unless of course that’s what you like). But at the same time, the characters are compelling and you do want to know how they end up even if you are frequently pushed out of the plot into beautifully-written cultural perspectives on feminism that ALLL deserve to be quoted a million times because of the lyricism and bone deep truth in their expression.
Personal taste foibles notwithstanding, I consider this essential reading! The kind that should make it into schools so girls everywhere can digest this and begin to understand their power and individuals but also as a unit and a sisterhood and boys men can understand the importance of being allies and where their power comes from. I think this is a really important book for anyone who considers themselves a feminist but especially for African feminism which is rarely centered in global dialogue. It is radical in its way, but also very culturally competent as it layers feminism into the culture and traditions in Uganda (but really in a way that would be appropriate in my own country across the continent). It proposes an origin story for women to understand how we came to be where we are positioned now in society in terms of status and discrimination. I love that it features different sorts of women as feminists and as “original” women even those that seem like haters or saboteurs. A feminist in this author’s book is a woman happily in a polygamous relationship, an oppressive African Aunty, a deadbeat mom, a boy with ain’t ish behavior willing to listen and learn, a woman who is called a ho but doesn’t base her value on the existence of her virginity, a man who believes girls can be anything in a time when nobody else does, a bad friend, a good friend... Because really anyone can be a feminist and anyone can change and return to their “original” state where the chains of shame and oppression aren’t tying us down so we can soar.
For me, I rate this book highly because it’s a book that is beyond “liking” the story. It is doing the important work of breaking down African feminism in historical fiction (!) through the lens of a Ugandan girl’s coming of age story! I was emotionally exhausted and triggered by the book in the best sense. As an African woman, I felt seen and heard and like things that I knew and thought or hadn’t even considered were plucked from my consciousness and expressed in the most beautiful way. I think for a historical novel, themes of colourism, beauty, classism, ownership, slavery, autonomy, marriage, family expectation, inheritance, polygamy, infidelity, sexual exploration, confidence- anything that is part of the lived experience of African women was touched upon. The author used this platform to the max, missing no opportunity to call for the freedom and autonomy and liberation of African women. Did I want more story development, more emotion? Yes, because that’s the kind of reader I am. But was I disappointed in this book? NO, I think this book accomplished what the author set out to achieve with it. I can only recommend this in the highest and most vocal terms as an essential read for the ages. THIS is the African feminist novel we’ve needed forever!
I received a complimentary copy of this book from Tin House through NetGalley.
I was a little torn on how to rate this novel because the style of storytelling is not necessarily my preference but the thesis it presents and provides evidence for over and over again, is so strong and artistically-presented, so real and relatable to me as an African woman that I have to rate it highly. There is somewhat of a non-fiction vibe to this even though this book is strongly character-based with a focus on how the characters interact with womanhood and cultural femininity. The non-fiction vibe is further emphasized by the fact that the plot isn’t the strongest and the story is mostly told through an editorial writing style in which the main characters analyze things that happen to them through a gender lens. This analysis of how we as women have come to the position we are in where we face discrimination, subjugation and are positioned as less than socioculturally is the strength and main thrust of this novel. I don’t feel like the story would stand on its own and hold itself up without the countless hypotheses on why women are feared, why women are discriminated against, why men think they own women, why women allow themselves to be owned, why women attack each other sometimes etc etc. It’s a book about power dynamics and how the power of women over time, has been taken away or lost from what the first woman had.
Thesis-wise and realness wise, this is a 5-star book for me. The ideas whilst not always especially novel, are well curated from (African) tradition and creatively presented through the characters. The language and the writing is beyond stellar- the way the author expresses her ideas through the characters had me highlighting entire pages because you can tell the craftsmanship of every phrase. This was not effortlessly written. You can feel the sweat of the author writing her socks off and wanting to get each turn of phrase exactly right, and absolutely deserving every accolade this is going to get! This felt like the experience you get reading an article or a memoir that has you nodding and beating your drum in agreement.
But story-wise, this wasn’t so great for me. It is not that the story(ies) weren’t interesting, strong or relatable. They absolutely were. Or at least, the characters were. They were viscerally real to me and my cultural experience, and that is why in the presentation of the book, I don’t feel the stories lived up to their full potential. The thesis elements of the book came out stronger than the characters. It didn’t feel like a book about specific characters and people to me, but a book about society and its issues. It’s not really a book about Kirabo’s coming of age, but a book about how women and society interact. Kirabo, Alikisa and Nsuuta felt like devices to make a point and Miiro and Tom just felt like they were there to fill the role as male allies. To me, feeling like I knew these characters, and also feeling like I could see their rich story potential, it felt a little like a disservice to them. It didn’t feel like these characters owned the stories, rather the author’s voice and agenda (both of which WERE fantastic) felt very front and center and louder than the characters. I never felt fully immersed in the story but rather immersed in the author’s ideas and thoughts. It felt very deliberately all about the quotable moment, the strategic communication opportunity, the message, the perfect turn of phrase rather than the storytelling, the emotion and the characters, which often felt a little secondary. In every event, never a teaching moment was left to go abegging. I agree that much of life and our daily experiences are gendered and I feel like this author wanted to present that within almost every single plot event in the book- and for me, it felt a little repetitive at times. For me, I wish a little more trust had been placed in the story to convey what was necessary and in me as a reader to deduce and form my own opinions from the events without as much spoon-feeding. Clearly, this immensely-talented author expressed said opinions in writing far better than I could have in my dreams, but it felt like nothing was left to deduction, nothing was left to interpretation- at every moment, it felt like as a reader, I wasn’t trusted to know what to think or what to feel or to get “the moral of the story.” This made it feel a little slow and meandering at times when every “i” is dotted and every “t” was crossed so deliberately.
This book discusses ideas around society and the issue of discrimination and fear of equality and of women and of ownership and oppression very succinctly. Because there’s so much message and thematic content in this, I would almost recommend approaching this almost like a series of essays or experiences with an interesting plot otherwise it feels a little like you’re being bombarded with “messages” at every turn (unless of course that’s what you like). But at the same time, the characters are compelling and you do want to know how they end up even if you are frequently pushed out of the plot into beautifully-written cultural perspectives on feminism that ALLL deserve to be quoted a million times because of the lyricism and bone deep truth in their expression.
Personal taste foibles notwithstanding, I consider this essential reading! The kind that should make it into schools so girls everywhere can digest this and begin to understand their power and individuals but also as a unit and a sisterhood and boys men can understand the importance of being allies and where their power comes from. I think this is a really important book for anyone who considers themselves a feminist but especially for African feminism which is rarely centered in global dialogue. It is radical in its way, but also very culturally competent as it layers feminism into the culture and traditions in Uganda (but really in a way that would be appropriate in my own country across the continent). It proposes an origin story for women to understand how we came to be where we are positioned now in society in terms of status and discrimination. I love that it features different sorts of women as feminists and as “original” women even those that seem like haters or saboteurs. A feminist in this author’s book is a woman happily in a polygamous relationship, an oppressive African Aunty, a deadbeat mom, a boy with ain’t ish behavior willing to listen and learn, a woman who is called a ho but doesn’t base her value on the existence of her virginity, a man who believes girls can be anything in a time when nobody else does, a bad friend, a good friend... Because really anyone can be a feminist and anyone can change and return to their “original” state where the chains of shame and oppression aren’t tying us down so we can soar.
For me, I rate this book highly because it’s a book that is beyond “liking” the story. It is doing the important work of breaking down African feminism in historical fiction (!) through the lens of a Ugandan girl’s coming of age story! I was emotionally exhausted and triggered by the book in the best sense. As an African woman, I felt seen and heard and like things that I knew and thought or hadn’t even considered were plucked from my consciousness and expressed in the most beautiful way. I think for a historical novel, themes of colourism, beauty, classism, ownership, slavery, autonomy, marriage, family expectation, inheritance, polygamy, infidelity, sexual exploration, confidence- anything that is part of the lived experience of African women was touched upon. The author used this platform to the max, missing no opportunity to call for the freedom and autonomy and liberation of African women. Did I want more story development, more emotion? Yes, because that’s the kind of reader I am. But was I disappointed in this book? NO, I think this book accomplished what the author set out to achieve with it. I can only recommend this in the highest and most vocal terms as an essential read for the ages. THIS is the African feminist novel we’ve needed forever!
I received a complimentary copy of this book from Tin House through NetGalley.
September 26, 2020
In her twelfth year, Kirabo, a young Ugandan girl, confronts a piercing question that has haunted her childhood: who is my mother? Kirabo has been raised by women in the small village of Nattetta—her grandmother, Muka Miiro, (and grandfather), her best friend, and her many aunts, but the absence of her mother follows her like a shadow. Her father, Tom, is an affluent businessman in Kampala and comes to visit her once in a blue moon. Complicating these feelings of abandonment, as Kirabo comes of age she feels the emergence of a mysterious second self, a headstrong and confusing force inside her at odds with her sweet and obedient nature. Seeking answers, Kirabo begins spending afternoons with Nsuuta, a local witch, and her grandfathers lover trading stories and learning not only about this force inside her, but about the woman who birthed her, who she learns is alive but not ready to meet. Nsuuta also explains that Kirabo has a streak of the “first woman”—an independent, original state that has been all but lost to women. When her rendezvous with Nsuuta are discovered, her grandmother sends her to her father in Kampala who in turn sends her to an all-girls boarding school.
Kirabo’s journey to reconcile her rebellious origins, alongside her desire to reconnect with her mother and to honour her family’s expectations, is rich in the folklore of Uganda and is an arresting exploration of what it means to be a modern girl in a world that seems determined to silence women. Makumbi’s unforgettable novel is a sweeping testament to the true and lasting connections between history, tradition, family, friends, and the promise of a different future. The First Woman is a powerful and striking bildungsroman set in 1970s Uganda under the rule of Idi Amin and presents a vivid and riveting picture of Ugandan life and its mythology. It explores the role of women in a largely patriarchal society where the belief is that women should be seen and not heard and be family-orientated; looking after and caring for a husband and children is their assigned roles, which they are told not to deviate from. Kirabo is a wonderful protagonist; she's a strong, relatable, bold and independent character who jumps off the page and into your heart with ease. Highly recommended. Many thanks to Oneworld for an ARC.
Kirabo’s journey to reconcile her rebellious origins, alongside her desire to reconnect with her mother and to honour her family’s expectations, is rich in the folklore of Uganda and is an arresting exploration of what it means to be a modern girl in a world that seems determined to silence women. Makumbi’s unforgettable novel is a sweeping testament to the true and lasting connections between history, tradition, family, friends, and the promise of a different future. The First Woman is a powerful and striking bildungsroman set in 1970s Uganda under the rule of Idi Amin and presents a vivid and riveting picture of Ugandan life and its mythology. It explores the role of women in a largely patriarchal society where the belief is that women should be seen and not heard and be family-orientated; looking after and caring for a husband and children is their assigned roles, which they are told not to deviate from. Kirabo is a wonderful protagonist; she's a strong, relatable, bold and independent character who jumps off the page and into your heart with ease. Highly recommended. Many thanks to Oneworld for an ARC.
September 2, 2020
I received a copy of this book from the publisher in exchange for an honest review.
I have the hardest time writing reviews for the books that I love and *wow* did I love this one. When I finish a book I really enjoyed I tend to sit and think about it for too long and sometimes I let the time pass, not writing a review at all because I feel I just can't do it justice. This is exactly the predicament I have been in for the last week. A Girl is a Body of Water is a blend of Ayọ̀bámi Adébáyọ̀'s Stay with Me, Bianca Marais' Hum If You Don't Know the Words and If You Want to Make God Laugh, and Mariama Bâ's So Long a Letter. Kirabo is a character who will never leave me. She is smart, feisty, challenging, frustrating, and I loved her stubborn independence. I found it refreshing that author Jennifer Nansubuga Makumbi did not hold my hand and go into detail to describe local phrases and traditions. Instead she drops us into a world and starts telling her story, fully immersing us in the customs, slang, and relationships among the people in the village of Nattetta in Uganda. If you are looking for a novel to transport, entertain, and educate you then you have got to grab this one. It is one of the best 2020 releases I have read and is tied with Luster by Raven Leilani for the number one spot. While this might not be the best review I've ever written or give the amount of praise I wish could heap on this novel, I hugged it when I was finished. Any true book lover knows that feeling and I can't always put that feeling into words.
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I have the hardest time writing reviews for the books that I love and *wow* did I love this one. When I finish a book I really enjoyed I tend to sit and think about it for too long and sometimes I let the time pass, not writing a review at all because I feel I just can't do it justice. This is exactly the predicament I have been in for the last week. A Girl is a Body of Water is a blend of Ayọ̀bámi Adébáyọ̀'s Stay with Me, Bianca Marais' Hum If You Don't Know the Words and If You Want to Make God Laugh, and Mariama Bâ's So Long a Letter. Kirabo is a character who will never leave me. She is smart, feisty, challenging, frustrating, and I loved her stubborn independence. I found it refreshing that author Jennifer Nansubuga Makumbi did not hold my hand and go into detail to describe local phrases and traditions. Instead she drops us into a world and starts telling her story, fully immersing us in the customs, slang, and relationships among the people in the village of Nattetta in Uganda. If you are looking for a novel to transport, entertain, and educate you then you have got to grab this one. It is one of the best 2020 releases I have read and is tied with Luster by Raven Leilani for the number one spot. While this might not be the best review I've ever written or give the amount of praise I wish could heap on this novel, I hugged it when I was finished. Any true book lover knows that feeling and I can't always put that feeling into words.
Come chat with me about books here, too:
Blog | Instagram | Twitter | Pinterest
August 25, 2020
A Girl is a Body of Water was such a beautiful tangled family history. The coming together and weaving of narrative and storyline were brilliant. As a reader, you get to experience Uganda during the 1970s and see Kirabo's coming of age story. Experiencing life through Birabo's eyes and see what it's like growing up a very strict patriarchal society where women have little freedom in most spaces. It was a slow-moving plot but Kirabo was an excellent main character. I did get a bit confused about who the other characters were at the time because I didn't realize there was a character guide in the back of the book until I had finished. The climax and opening ending with me with a gaping need for closure but it was a beautiful ending.
Thanks to Netgalley in exchange for an honest review!
Thanks to Netgalley in exchange for an honest review!
September 25, 2021
"But the Bible says that God created Adam and Eve in his own image."
"If he created them in his own image," Nsuuta snapped, "then afterwards Adam re-created Eve in his own image, one that suited him."
In many respects a fascinating novel and a worthy winner of the Jhalak Prize (and odd omission from the Women's and Booker Prizes).
Although for me the more didactic parts of the novel - the fascinating theories of the Original State and mwenkanonkano - were its strongest point.
The plot itself, from a personal taste perspective, was a relatively uninteresting family saga and unnecessarily stretched out at times resulting in a novel at least twice by preferred length.
So recommended but 3 stars from my personal perspective.
"If he created them in his own image," Nsuuta snapped, "then afterwards Adam re-created Eve in his own image, one that suited him."
In many respects a fascinating novel and a worthy winner of the Jhalak Prize (and odd omission from the Women's and Booker Prizes).
Although for me the more didactic parts of the novel - the fascinating theories of the Original State and mwenkanonkano - were its strongest point.
The plot itself, from a personal taste perspective, was a relatively uninteresting family saga and unnecessarily stretched out at times resulting in a novel at least twice by preferred length.
So recommended but 3 stars from my personal perspective.
September 8, 2020
What a book! I am still gathering my thoughts.
June 24, 2021
Introduction.
The First Woman is, unusually, both a character driven novel and equally a book that has important themes.
Originally set up as a companion to Nansubuga’s debut novel Kintu, the historical sweep of The First Woman is less obvious but the influence and inspiration of the “ancients” is never far from the surface.
This is a book avowedly written for an African readership, and it knowingly avoids the more numerous novels about African nations viewed through a colonial lens
I read the USA version, A Girl Is a Body of Water, so titled because publishers in USA felt that a USA audience would lose some of the creation aspects of “First woman” and focus instead on first women to achieve great things (and at the time of publication Ruth Bader Ginsburg became the first woman to lie in state in the US Capitol (09/2020)
In the UK the book is title The First Woman to picks up the creation story while also linking to the aspirational expectations of St. Theresa’s the private girl school who boast Uganda’s “First woman” lawyer, doctor, minister, and airline pilot.
This is a complex read, yet one which impels the reader to want to discover more about Uganda.
Synopsis
Two women, Kirabo (twelve years old at the outset) and Nsuuta (in her eighties at the books end) represent two generations of Bugandan women sizing up to what extent they challenge the status quo and assert their individual identities or conform to the expectations of females.
Kirabo’s character sets the tone in the early stages and it felt like she would dominate the book. It doesn’t turn out like that and her initial promise, her storytelling (she is admiringly described as a griot), the search for her mother, her untrammelled free spirit flying high, wanes as the book continues. The author says this is just how it happened, and was not the original intent (Kirabo was going to be the Nambi that matched Kintu in the Bugandan creation story; but it didn’t emerge that way).
I thought it was intriguing (and did not diminish the story) that other supporting women each took centre stage and spoke and acted in a way that I had expected to be conveyed through Kirabo. Aunt Abi(saagi), Jjajji Nsangi, Diba, and even Alikisa all make their voices heard assertively.
Tsitsi Dangaremba’s Nervous Conditions is an acknowledged and obvious inspiration for Nansubuga, and it is notable that both authors sign off their books by returning, in the final paragraph, to the strong women who drive the stories. Nansubuga’s foursome (which excludes Kirabo) includes Kana which I thought was a curious choice (widow Diba more appropriate I would have thought).
Nsuuta, with whom Kirabo shares a special bond, is terrific. Feisty and independent, she is eventually disappointed in Kirabo: “I guess you really clipped your wings and buried them. Nothing takes the sting out of women like marriage”
It’s ironic that for a girl (Kirabo) who flies, her character arc is a downward one as the book continues.
Themes
There are so many!
“Feminism” Mwenkanonkano Kweluma
This is not a feminist novel, as generally understood. The description feminist has a number of different meanings (to men and women). The modern western feminist movement has four "waves", and what Nansubuga is describing in Uganda does not conform to any of the western (Europe/USA) terms. It is natural that the book is summarised in this way (for western readers) and in the book blurbs, reviews and author interviews, which inevitably feature this headline. Nansubuga is cute in agreeing with the descriptive term (she doesn’t want to be rude) while setting about challenging the easy pigeon-holing.
In keeping with another key theme in the book- storytelling- Nansubuga sets about creating her own words and stories. Mwenkanonkano and Kweluma are invented terms (!) Kweluma in Swahili means “bite”, and mwenkanonkano loosely means equality.
The essence of what Nansubuga is driving at is her concept of “The original state” (and hence the UK book title The First Woman ). It means pushing back; back to the first woman (Nnambi). Sio, Kirabo’s boyfriend confuses mwenkanonkano with feminism and is put right: “Kirabo ignored it because as far as she knew feminism was for women in developed countries with first world problems” (279)
Having said all that, Nsuuta is the character whose life narrative differs from the other adult women. Hers is a slave background “her beauty had been plundered” (333). The female members of the Luutu clan, personified in Aunt Abi, are duty bound, and willing, to uphold clan norms and traditions (property and children custody) yet at the same time “push back” in matters of daily life. In Nsuuta’s case her place within a larger family system had been broken. Nsuuta is an interesting contrast with Giibwa, the other direct descent from enforced slavery from the grandmothers generation. There is a hierarchy of slave as Nsuuta was subsequently a product of landed wealth and had opportunities of her own (outside the clan system), while Giibwa’s immediate ancestors were labourers and hence Giibwa’s rights, as a mother, are limited.
Kweluma is a recurring theme through the book and the comparisons with Nervous Conditions are apparent. The sisterhood of women had been conditioned and constrained by centuries of rules inhibiting their chances of pushing back to the first woman. So they take it out on fellow women.
” My grandmothers called it kweluma. That is when oppressed people turn on each other or on themselves and bite. It is as a form of relief. If you cannot bite your oppressor, you bite yourself.”
• The idyllic matriarchy of St Theresa is not a reality. Young women fight, and compete with each other for male attention.
• Aunt Abi exhibits a sort of Kweluma in her criticism of Giibwa and defence of Sio
• WHY PENNED HENS PECK EACH OTHER (413). The Natetta women attack on, and disdain for, Nnambi. “Gorged on anger about the demon”. “Her name is Nnambi, her brother is Death”427
• Kirabo’s efforts to form bonds with Giibwa , her mother and her step mother all fail. Despite the blood relationships, the ties of kinship are not sufficient to find common ground (in contrast to the ways in which men ensure they are a part of a collective whole).
The Clan System
Trying to get to grips with the complexities of the Ugandan clan and totem system is a challenge for an outsider. What might seem to be an unfair system, based around patriarchal laws, does ensure that dynasties stay close. The system of inheritance through male heirs , and the acceptance of polygamy, is well presented by Nansubuga. Its easy to condemn this through western eyes, but the message I took is that free spirited women can and do impose themselves (“push back”), but that this has to be within the framework of the male orientated clan system.
Grandmother Alikisa to daughter, Gayi “are you going to change the clan system so that we start to own children? Do women own their own children where your husband comes from? Lets focus on what we can change” (443)
The festering issues arise when a woman has children with a man who has not been agreed upon and accepted by her wider family. (Muka Mwanda, and Giibwa)
Some great examples of the working of the clans are spread throughout the book:
• At the start of the book grandfather Miiro has a house full of teenagers- all are related. He has the property. This encourages, and forces families to stay together (no such thing as a solitary, lonely child)
• “I made it clear right from the start. I’m not bringing up children who are not mine, full stop” (159) (Nnambi to her sister- she could not cause greater offence and opprobrium from both sexes).
• Nnambis mother tells of her husband and the brutish womaniser he was. She had to leave the marital bed (eight children by now), and cook breakfast for his latest girl-friend the following morning
• “our mothers are very important but in the clan we put them aside and focus on father, grandfather, and all those grandfathers that came before” Alikisa to the assembled extended family. (456)
• Miiro and the clan heads. Miiro insists women are present, including Kirabo and sister. Other clan heads say: “Bring the women but only if they will sit down and stay quiet” (489)
• Kirabo to Giibwa on arrangements for Giibwa’s daughter Abla : “Abla will come back (from school) and live with us. But I think you should be included in making that decision” (528)
Nansubuga does inject some humour. Women dispossessed of their children don’t always go out without a fight..
Muka Mwana when told by husband’s family after his death that they have come for children, strips naked, and with legs open declares “it was your sons favourite property” !!
Colour and Slavery
While racism (on the basis of skin colour) is not a leading theme in the book, I was conscious how often women looked at themselves and other women in terms of light and dark skin.
• Kirabo aged twelve says “but I am so dark skinned they call me Kagongolo” (24)
• Giibwa’s. “That entitlement that light skinned girls had to beauty”(280)
• Muluka and Luutu houses approve of Miiro’s marriage to Alikisa “she will bring much needed light skin to the children “ (362)
It’s a contentious subject and one which Nansubuga references fairly. In the prologue to Kintu she quotes from John Hanning Speke (English explorer from the 1860’s) and his (totally discredited) Hamitic hypothesis. The migration of people, and the existence of the slave trade rolled into the search for the source of the Nile.
In The First Woman both Giibwa and Nsuuta are descendants of slave raids by the Baganda into the surrounding regions.
• On Giibwa’s background- father was ganda then marries Ssoga woman, his roots were in Busoga; “is it true we raided and sold them, Diba at the time everybody raided and everybody sold everybody. They were dark times. 296
• 3.(327) Nsuuta tells Alikisa about her warrior grandfather. The Ganda go to the (Bu) soga, initially to acquire trees, then selling women slaves to Arabs, and to supplement his extensive harem.
Colonial After Effects
This is the element in the book where I find Nansubuga is most contradictory. I appreciate that colonial influences are not the essence of this story, and this is not about Europeans. Nonetheless some subtle references make their way in.
• Sio attracts some adverse criticism- he is described as having “Zungu” airs (60)
• widow Diba recalls older days of happy polygamy. “I never saw strife among our mothers and there were five of them.. with this Christianity all that is gone” (294)
• Nansubuga most obvious distaste introduces is reserved for Winston Churchill who visited Uganda in 1907 and went to open Mengo Boys High. Churchill described Uganda as a beacon of hope in “the heart of the dark continent” and the “The Pearl of Africa” “as if Buganda had been waiting for Churchill and tell us what a wonder Buganda was” Both condescending and belittling, Luuto was taken in.
But for the most part the effects of white colonialism come across as being benign, and this is very much a contradiction in a book that sets out to show that there was plenty of life, and unique culture prior to the arrival of the Europeans in the late c. 19th
• Miiro’s Great grandfather Luuto built the schools and Churches (Catholic and Protestant) (hence gatherings of teenagers at start of book) “A girl uneducated is an oppressed wife in the making”
• St. Theresa’s convent. You educate a woman. A nation is educated (school motto) 1940/52 de Bunsen & missionaries
• St Theresa’s is described as ‘A school for girls with the original state’ (218) Colonialism and original state as partners?
• Sir Apollo Kagwa’s image is in every room. He was the local face of the British Protectorate from 1896.
• Nsuuta realised aspiration to train and practice as a nurse: Sir Albert Cook is mentioned ( a British medical missionary in Uganda, and the founder of Mulago Hospital and Mengo Hospital). Cook established a maternity training school in Uganda and he was unusual among medical missionaries because of his efforts to train Africans to become skilled medical workers.
• Alikisa: “Immunisation- a danger. Did Buganda not thrive before immunisation came?” (351)
Nsuuta Says “but these people, when will you come out of your backwardness?” .
Water
From the initial premise, that the first woman rose out of the sea (in contrast to me whose relationship with land, including inheritance, was cemented) Nansubuga runs with a theme of water throughout the book. This even stretches to the book title and the name A Girl Is a Body of Water for the USA market was
• “St Theresas was a body of water. You dropped girls in it and they found their depths”(243)
• Aunt Abi describes fluids in great detail in a sexual sense
• Nnankya the stream; has a spirit of its own.
• Nsuuta and Alikisa like nothing more than to covort (naked) in the rain.
Author background & Influence
Jennifer Nansubuga Makumbi has lived in Manchester, England for twenty years. Her first novel Kintu is a sweeping history of Uganda, in which the clan system is also central to the narrative. In interviews Nansubuga cites her key influences as
Tsitsi Dangarenbga for African feminism
Toni Morrison for magic realism (and language)
Chinua Achiebe for patriarchy
Questions
While this book is predominantly focused on women, some male characters (the quiet ones) do draw in the reader. My main unresolved question is why Nansubuga introduces Batte, and then spreads him so lightly. He’s Tom’s best friend (in childhood); he battles (unsuccessfully) with the bottle and his mother dies tragically. He also demonstrates true humanity and humility as the extended family comes to terms with bereavement. Why was this potentially fascinating character used so sparingly???!!
Female characterisation is well represented, but in similar vein to Batte, a schoolgirl character Kana (at St Theresa’s convent) sparkles very briefly and returns in the final paragraph. More please!
Recommend
For readers with an existing interest in Africa, this book is an absolute must read. For the occasional reader there is lots to enjoy at the character level, and in the perspective on male/female dynamics in a culture far removed from Europe/North America. I hope Nansubuga follows in the footsteps of Dangarembga (in 2020) and makes it on to the Booker Prize list in 2021, with the attendant publicity and readership that this brings.
The First Woman is, unusually, both a character driven novel and equally a book that has important themes.
Originally set up as a companion to Nansubuga’s debut novel Kintu, the historical sweep of The First Woman is less obvious but the influence and inspiration of the “ancients” is never far from the surface.
This is a book avowedly written for an African readership, and it knowingly avoids the more numerous novels about African nations viewed through a colonial lens
I read the USA version, A Girl Is a Body of Water, so titled because publishers in USA felt that a USA audience would lose some of the creation aspects of “First woman” and focus instead on first women to achieve great things (and at the time of publication Ruth Bader Ginsburg became the first woman to lie in state in the US Capitol (09/2020)
In the UK the book is title The First Woman to picks up the creation story while also linking to the aspirational expectations of St. Theresa’s the private girl school who boast Uganda’s “First woman” lawyer, doctor, minister, and airline pilot.
This is a complex read, yet one which impels the reader to want to discover more about Uganda.
Synopsis
Two women, Kirabo (twelve years old at the outset) and Nsuuta (in her eighties at the books end) represent two generations of Bugandan women sizing up to what extent they challenge the status quo and assert their individual identities or conform to the expectations of females.
Kirabo’s character sets the tone in the early stages and it felt like she would dominate the book. It doesn’t turn out like that and her initial promise, her storytelling (she is admiringly described as a griot), the search for her mother, her untrammelled free spirit flying high, wanes as the book continues. The author says this is just how it happened, and was not the original intent (Kirabo was going to be the Nambi that matched Kintu in the Bugandan creation story; but it didn’t emerge that way).
I thought it was intriguing (and did not diminish the story) that other supporting women each took centre stage and spoke and acted in a way that I had expected to be conveyed through Kirabo. Aunt Abi(saagi), Jjajji Nsangi, Diba, and even Alikisa all make their voices heard assertively.
Tsitsi Dangaremba’s Nervous Conditions is an acknowledged and obvious inspiration for Nansubuga, and it is notable that both authors sign off their books by returning, in the final paragraph, to the strong women who drive the stories. Nansubuga’s foursome (which excludes Kirabo) includes Kana which I thought was a curious choice (widow Diba more appropriate I would have thought).
Nsuuta, with whom Kirabo shares a special bond, is terrific. Feisty and independent, she is eventually disappointed in Kirabo: “I guess you really clipped your wings and buried them. Nothing takes the sting out of women like marriage”
It’s ironic that for a girl (Kirabo) who flies, her character arc is a downward one as the book continues.
Themes
There are so many!
This is not a feminist novel, as generally understood. The description feminist has a number of different meanings (to men and women). The modern western feminist movement has four "waves", and what Nansubuga is describing in Uganda does not conform to any of the western (Europe/USA) terms. It is natural that the book is summarised in this way (for western readers) and in the book blurbs, reviews and author interviews, which inevitably feature this headline. Nansubuga is cute in agreeing with the descriptive term (she doesn’t want to be rude) while setting about challenging the easy pigeon-holing.
In keeping with another key theme in the book- storytelling- Nansubuga sets about creating her own words and stories. Mwenkanonkano and Kweluma are invented terms (!) Kweluma in Swahili means “bite”, and mwenkanonkano loosely means equality.
The essence of what Nansubuga is driving at is her concept of “The original state” (and hence the UK book title The First Woman ). It means pushing back; back to the first woman (Nnambi). Sio, Kirabo’s boyfriend confuses mwenkanonkano with feminism and is put right: “Kirabo ignored it because as far as she knew feminism was for women in developed countries with first world problems” (279)
Having said all that, Nsuuta is the character whose life narrative differs from the other adult women. Hers is a slave background “her beauty had been plundered” (333). The female members of the Luutu clan, personified in Aunt Abi, are duty bound, and willing, to uphold clan norms and traditions (property and children custody) yet at the same time “push back” in matters of daily life. In Nsuuta’s case her place within a larger family system had been broken. Nsuuta is an interesting contrast with Giibwa, the other direct descent from enforced slavery from the grandmothers generation. There is a hierarchy of slave as Nsuuta was subsequently a product of landed wealth and had opportunities of her own (outside the clan system), while Giibwa’s immediate ancestors were labourers and hence Giibwa’s rights, as a mother, are limited.
Kweluma is a recurring theme through the book and the comparisons with Nervous Conditions are apparent. The sisterhood of women had been conditioned and constrained by centuries of rules inhibiting their chances of pushing back to the first woman. So they take it out on fellow women.
” My grandmothers called it kweluma. That is when oppressed people turn on each other or on themselves and bite. It is as a form of relief. If you cannot bite your oppressor, you bite yourself.”
• The idyllic matriarchy of St Theresa is not a reality. Young women fight, and compete with each other for male attention.
• Aunt Abi exhibits a sort of Kweluma in her criticism of Giibwa and defence of Sio
• WHY PENNED HENS PECK EACH OTHER (413). The Natetta women attack on, and disdain for, Nnambi. “Gorged on anger about the demon”. “Her name is Nnambi, her brother is Death”427
• Kirabo’s efforts to form bonds with Giibwa , her mother and her step mother all fail. Despite the blood relationships, the ties of kinship are not sufficient to find common ground (in contrast to the ways in which men ensure they are a part of a collective whole).
The Clan System
Trying to get to grips with the complexities of the Ugandan clan and totem system is a challenge for an outsider. What might seem to be an unfair system, based around patriarchal laws, does ensure that dynasties stay close. The system of inheritance through male heirs , and the acceptance of polygamy, is well presented by Nansubuga. Its easy to condemn this through western eyes, but the message I took is that free spirited women can and do impose themselves (“push back”), but that this has to be within the framework of the male orientated clan system.
Grandmother Alikisa to daughter, Gayi “are you going to change the clan system so that we start to own children? Do women own their own children where your husband comes from? Lets focus on what we can change” (443)
The festering issues arise when a woman has children with a man who has not been agreed upon and accepted by her wider family. (Muka Mwanda, and Giibwa)
Some great examples of the working of the clans are spread throughout the book:
• At the start of the book grandfather Miiro has a house full of teenagers- all are related. He has the property. This encourages, and forces families to stay together (no such thing as a solitary, lonely child)
• “I made it clear right from the start. I’m not bringing up children who are not mine, full stop” (159) (Nnambi to her sister- she could not cause greater offence and opprobrium from both sexes).
• Nnambis mother tells of her husband and the brutish womaniser he was. She had to leave the marital bed (eight children by now), and cook breakfast for his latest girl-friend the following morning
• “our mothers are very important but in the clan we put them aside and focus on father, grandfather, and all those grandfathers that came before” Alikisa to the assembled extended family. (456)
• Miiro and the clan heads. Miiro insists women are present, including Kirabo and sister. Other clan heads say: “Bring the women but only if they will sit down and stay quiet” (489)
• Kirabo to Giibwa on arrangements for Giibwa’s daughter Abla : “Abla will come back (from school) and live with us. But I think you should be included in making that decision” (528)
Nansubuga does inject some humour. Women dispossessed of their children don’t always go out without a fight..
Muka Mwana when told by husband’s family after his death that they have come for children, strips naked, and with legs open declares “it was your sons favourite property” !!
Colour and Slavery
While racism (on the basis of skin colour) is not a leading theme in the book, I was conscious how often women looked at themselves and other women in terms of light and dark skin.
• Kirabo aged twelve says “but I am so dark skinned they call me Kagongolo” (24)
• Giibwa’s. “That entitlement that light skinned girls had to beauty”(280)
• Muluka and Luutu houses approve of Miiro’s marriage to Alikisa “she will bring much needed light skin to the children “ (362)
It’s a contentious subject and one which Nansubuga references fairly. In the prologue to Kintu she quotes from John Hanning Speke (English explorer from the 1860’s) and his (totally discredited) Hamitic hypothesis. The migration of people, and the existence of the slave trade rolled into the search for the source of the Nile.
In The First Woman both Giibwa and Nsuuta are descendants of slave raids by the Baganda into the surrounding regions.
• On Giibwa’s background- father was ganda then marries Ssoga woman, his roots were in Busoga; “is it true we raided and sold them, Diba at the time everybody raided and everybody sold everybody. They were dark times. 296
• 3.(327) Nsuuta tells Alikisa about her warrior grandfather. The Ganda go to the (Bu) soga, initially to acquire trees, then selling women slaves to Arabs, and to supplement his extensive harem.
Colonial After Effects
This is the element in the book where I find Nansubuga is most contradictory. I appreciate that colonial influences are not the essence of this story, and this is not about Europeans. Nonetheless some subtle references make their way in.
• Sio attracts some adverse criticism- he is described as having “Zungu” airs (60)
• widow Diba recalls older days of happy polygamy. “I never saw strife among our mothers and there were five of them.. with this Christianity all that is gone” (294)
• Nansubuga most obvious distaste introduces is reserved for Winston Churchill who visited Uganda in 1907 and went to open Mengo Boys High. Churchill described Uganda as a beacon of hope in “the heart of the dark continent” and the “The Pearl of Africa” “as if Buganda had been waiting for Churchill and tell us what a wonder Buganda was” Both condescending and belittling, Luuto was taken in.
But for the most part the effects of white colonialism come across as being benign, and this is very much a contradiction in a book that sets out to show that there was plenty of life, and unique culture prior to the arrival of the Europeans in the late c. 19th
• Miiro’s Great grandfather Luuto built the schools and Churches (Catholic and Protestant) (hence gatherings of teenagers at start of book) “A girl uneducated is an oppressed wife in the making”
• St. Theresa’s convent. You educate a woman. A nation is educated (school motto) 1940/52 de Bunsen & missionaries
• St Theresa’s is described as ‘A school for girls with the original state’ (218) Colonialism and original state as partners?
• Sir Apollo Kagwa’s image is in every room. He was the local face of the British Protectorate from 1896.
• Nsuuta realised aspiration to train and practice as a nurse: Sir Albert Cook is mentioned ( a British medical missionary in Uganda, and the founder of Mulago Hospital and Mengo Hospital). Cook established a maternity training school in Uganda and he was unusual among medical missionaries because of his efforts to train Africans to become skilled medical workers.
• Alikisa: “Immunisation- a danger. Did Buganda not thrive before immunisation came?” (351)
Nsuuta Says “but these people, when will you come out of your backwardness?” .
Water
From the initial premise, that the first woman rose out of the sea (in contrast to me whose relationship with land, including inheritance, was cemented) Nansubuga runs with a theme of water throughout the book. This even stretches to the book title and the name A Girl Is a Body of Water for the USA market was
• “St Theresas was a body of water. You dropped girls in it and they found their depths”(243)
• Aunt Abi describes fluids in great detail in a sexual sense
• Nnankya the stream; has a spirit of its own.
• Nsuuta and Alikisa like nothing more than to covort (naked) in the rain.
Author background & Influence
Jennifer Nansubuga Makumbi has lived in Manchester, England for twenty years. Her first novel Kintu is a sweeping history of Uganda, in which the clan system is also central to the narrative. In interviews Nansubuga cites her key influences as
Tsitsi Dangarenbga for African feminism
Toni Morrison for magic realism (and language)
Chinua Achiebe for patriarchy
Questions
While this book is predominantly focused on women, some male characters (the quiet ones) do draw in the reader. My main unresolved question is why Nansubuga introduces Batte, and then spreads him so lightly. He’s Tom’s best friend (in childhood); he battles (unsuccessfully) with the bottle and his mother dies tragically. He also demonstrates true humanity and humility as the extended family comes to terms with bereavement. Why was this potentially fascinating character used so sparingly???!!
Female characterisation is well represented, but in similar vein to Batte, a schoolgirl character Kana (at St Theresa’s convent) sparkles very briefly and returns in the final paragraph. More please!
Recommend
For readers with an existing interest in Africa, this book is an absolute must read. For the occasional reader there is lots to enjoy at the character level, and in the perspective on male/female dynamics in a culture far removed from Europe/North America. I hope Nansubuga follows in the footsteps of Dangarembga (in 2020) and makes it on to the Booker Prize list in 2021, with the attendant publicity and readership that this brings.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
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