Francophone Women Writing in 1998-99 and Beyond: A Literary Feast in a Violent World

From the seventies onwards, francophone African women writers have published a steady stream of novels exploring the highs and lows of the human condition. With good reason, critics have seen their texts as providing first-hand information on women's perceptions of society. In this regard, the 1998-99 crop is no different from that of previous years. New talents such as Fatou Keïta, Adjoua Flore Kouamé, Bessora, Myriam Warner Vieyra's daughter Célia Vieyra, and many others rub shoulders with household names such as Calixthe Beyala, Véronique Tadjo, Aminata Sow Fall, Mariama Ndoye, Ken Bugul, and other well-established writers. Issues traditionally associated with African women's writing in years past, such as polygamy, forced marriage, and women's limited opportunities are still there, although not as prominently as before. Conversely, new problematics born of rapidly changing sociocultural environments are finding their way into the corpus. Among them, the issue of violence and survival in hostile environments seems to gain momentum while the soothing virtue of human interaction becomes a kind of last refuge in the face of extreme economic hardship, domestic violence, the collapse of social values, and war. Needless to say, understanding what recent African women's writing is all about requires readers to go beyond the mere listing of violent acts. It requires an exploration of the way people answer the challenge of surviving in rough and often inhumane conditions, how they assess the past to better understand the future, how they devise new strategies, follow new dreams, and attempt to make do with the often limited resources at their disposal.

Novelist Adjoua Flore Kouamé's own reading of her novel La valse des tourments [The waltz of torments], offers a preliminary example. The novel tells the story of Tanko--a child brutalised by his step-mother--who, later in life, embarks on a career of thuggery, political compromise, and drug deals. Power, money, and notoriety follow but also, eventually, Tanko's violent death. For a reader recently alerted to the painful reality of child molestation and teenage truancy, reading about the bashing of Tanko and his descent into a life of crime could not but lead to the perception that violence was at the center of the novel. How to imagine anything but life at its nastiest when reading:

A présent elle n'attaquait plus de front, mais usait de toute les formes de mesquineries et de bassesses pour l'ébranler. Elle connaissait bien, pour en avoir déjà fait les frais, les capacités de riposte de son ennemi. Ne s'était-il pas venger à treize ans, vengé de la manière la plus sordide, après qu'elle lui eût flanqué une raclée particulièrement violente.

Now, she avoided attacking directly, resorting to all kind of mean and petty tricks in order to unnerve him. She had learned at her own expense of his ability to counter-attack. At the age of thirteen, did he not avenge himself in the most abject fashion after she had severely beaten him? (58)

If anything, Tanko's recourse to bullying others, a direct result of the abuse to which he had been subjected, shows that violence breeds violence. This, however, is not the conclusion the author would like us to reach. According to Flore Kouamé, it is a not the main issue raised in the book: "Violence is everywhere in the world," she said, "nonetheless, the message I try to communicate very strongly is one of love" (Volet; my trans.). According to the author the novel's aim is to amplify the soothing voice of humanity, reason and faith. Adjoua Flore Kouamé's reading of her own novel tells a story of resilience, power, and determination in the face of brute force. Violence is not the dominant theme but a...