Recently in the news for being a finalist for the Nigeria Prize For Literature (AKA The NLNG Prize), Abi Daré’s ‘The Girl with the Louding Voice’ continues to be on the radar of many readers.
By Akumbu Uche
The first time I tried to read Abi Daré’s ‘The Girl with the Louding Voice’ (Ouida Books, 2020), it was hard for me to get into. The book is written in first person and the main character, Adunni’s narrative voice in the story is a mix of literary-sounding English and non-standardized pidgin. After wrestling with the linguistic choice for a while, I gave in to the author’s artistic license. After all, there are many versions of pidgin, why should I insist on a standardised one? As I read on, I came to see that Adunni was a girl who was finding her way around the English language and making it her own.
Originally published in 2020, ‘The Girl with the Louding Voice’ introduces us to Adunni, a 14-year-old girl with big dreams to get an education and transform her life. After experiencing several harrowing ordeals, she escapes a forced marriage and flees village life for Lagos, where she is employed as a housemaid, and overworked.
“Given the book’s heavy subject matter, I found it surprisingly fast-paced and the injection of humour kept the tone somewhat light and the mood hopeful; qualities that will no doubt give the book popular appeal “
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I don’t think it’s a coincidence that both this book and its fellow 2021 NLNG Prize for Literature shortlistee, and eventual clincher of the prize, Cheluchi Onyemelukwe-Onuobia’s ‘The Son of the House’ deal with the adversity housemaids, mostly teenaged and prepubescent girls from impoverished backgrounds, often face at the hands of their employers. I salute both these authors’ advocacy for the rights of women and girls and while it’s long overdue, a shift in the Nigerian conscience, in terms of the awareness of the ills of underage and exploitative labour is sorely needed.
There are so many inhumane practices and conditions we shrug off or turn a blind eye to. “That’s just how it is.” “That’s how it has always been done.” We make myriads of excuses. It is a sad realization that we can never truly know what it is to be the ‘other’ or different unless we find ourselves in a similar situation. Thankfully, literature gives us the chance to temporarily step into someone else’s shoes and teaches us to be empathetic. But feeling sorry in one’s heart and then ‘unlooking’ hardly gets us anywhere. What is empathy without action?
“Thankfully, literature gives us the chance to temporarily step into someone else’s shoes and teaches us to be empathetic. But feeling sorry in one’s heart and then ‘unlooking’ hardly gets us anywhere. What is empathy without action?”
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Something else the novel did excellently was providing subtle discussion on feminism, at least feminism Naija style. Take Adunni’s employer, Big Mummy for instance: a woman who doesn’t just sit at the table, a woman who is the table, financially speaking. It wouldn’t surprise me if she self-identified as a feminist and even her neighbourhood women’s association can be seen as a ‘women-supporting-women’ enterprise. Yet she has no qualms about preventing a young girl from pursuing education and is not above inflicting violence on the people who work for her.
About the only thing I had mixed feelings about was the introduction of a subplot halfway in that turned Adunni into an Agatha Christie-esque amateur sleuth. I thought the mystery unnecessary as it was immediately obvious to me what might have happened with that particular storyline. Still, it just might be some more adventurous reader’s cup of tea.
Given the book’s heavy subject matter, I found it surprisingly fast-paced and the injection of humour kept the tone somewhat light and the mood hopeful; qualities that will no doubt give the book popular appeal and endear it to the book club crowd. (I actually read it because it was my book club’s pick of the month in November.) The novel also has a visual, cinematic feel and I hope someone in Nollywood gets it adapted for the big screen soon.
Akumbu Uche is a Nigerian writer whose work has appeared in Bella Naija and Brittle Paper. She lives in Owerri.
