BOOK REVIEW Tragic portrait of girl-child in Northern Nigeria
Title: Author: Publishers: Year: Pages: ISBN: Reviewer:
Habiba Razinat T. Mohammed Kraft Books Limited (Ibadan) 2013 175 978-978-918-125-4 Sumaila Umaisha. The age-long concern for the plight of the woman has found expressions in various fields of human endeavour, especially the arts. Quite a number of literary productions have been inspired by the global interest in redefining the role and rights of the woman in the maledominated world. Nigeria is not left out of this ideological struggle. From writers like Flora Nwapa and Buchi Emecheta in the 1960s to the contemporary writers like Zaynab Alkali and Razinat Mohammed, literary feminism has continued to thrive in various forms and dimensions depending on the socio-cultural milieu of the time and place. One of the latest additions to this flourishing genre is Razinat Mohammed’s novel, Habiba, which takes a critical look at the phenomenon of forced/early marriage.
In the novel, the award-winning author weaves an interesting narrative around Habiba, the main character, exploring and underscoring the peculiarity of the problem in Northern Nigeria. And in her exhaustive examination, she throws up a number of sub-themes that effectively substantiate her central argument that the detrimental practice in question is mainly occasioned by poverty and misconceived cultural/religious beliefs.
The novel opens with an episode in which the thirteen-year old Habiba and her younger sister, Ummi, abscond from their mother, Kande, to their father, Saleh. Saleh had divorced Kande some years back (at the instance of his cantankerous old mother, Hamsatu, for not bearing male children) and she is now married to Sabiu, a loving husband who treats Habiba and Ummi as he would his own biological children. On arriving home, the kids are well received by their father and stepmother, Sadia. But no sooner had they settled down than the old woman set about machinations that finally put paid to their schooling and happiness. At the age of seventeen, Habiba is married off to Malam Zubairu, the contemporary of her grandfather and a man she had never met face to face till after the marriage. The story gets to a gripping denouement when the psychological trauma galvanized by the tragic experience results in Saleh’s disappearance from home, and pushes Habiba down the moral abyss, in which she now seeks solace in lesbianism.
The novel is an attempt at mirroring the ugly practice of child marriage which has ravaged and is still devastating the North, especially the Muslim dominated areas of the region. In some quarters, the girlchild is often looked upon as a second class citizen who is useful only as a marriage object. Education for her is regarded as a waste of time and resources.
Ironically this view is shared by even the rich like Malam Zubairu, who marries his daughters off as soon as he gets ‘wind that they have begun seeing their monthly flows’. (P. 115). Characters with such myopic worldview usually use religion to explain away their act as a measure to protect their daughters’ honour. While reacting to her son’s insistence on educating his children, Hamsatu advances the flimsy excuse thus: ‘Do you want that daughter of Kande’s to bring shame to this family?’ (P. 32). They consider educating the girlchild a recipe for straying from the path of God, forgetting that the very foundation of Islam is knowledge, as the first verse of the Qur’an revealed to the Prophet implies.
Throughout the pages, the author stresses this point; that Islam is a knowledge-based religion and it encourages justice and fairness in one’s dealing with his children, male or female. The female child is equally entitled to self-determination and a bright future as much as her male counterpart. And this is why in spite of his poverty, Saleh declares: ‘…I will like my children to go to school until such a time when I can no longer afford it…’ (P. 32).
From Saleh’s determined albeit weak voice and his bitter experience, it could be said that poverty is a major factor behind the practice of forced and early marriage. When his dictatorial mother cooks up Habiba’s marriage, he stands against it and for the first time talks back harshly at her. But when subsequently, bankruptcy overtakes him, he becomes the one to put finishing touches to the very tragedy he hitherto tried to avert.
Expanding the dimension of the feminist argument the author makes a powerful statement on the remote causes of the problem, which she traces to the doorsteps of government; bad leadership and corruption. Sadia’s thought on the incessant cases of bomb blasts explicitly highlights the fact: ‘Her mind wondered at why people would want to blast bombs around habitations. …she knew that the economic hardship that her family and many more like them faced were the fault of the democratic government. They were busy hacking away resources belonging to the people for the comfort of their own families.’ (P. 145.)
There are hints, in form of rumours, that Saleh actually disappeared from home to join forces with the dreaded Boko Haram militant group to fight back against the society and the establishment. This further suggests that the government is largely responsible for the fates of the likes of Habiba and her father. Subtle as the suggestion may appear, it tends to re-affirm the author’s flair for protest writing - a voice calling for a revolution!
Another noticeable style of Razinat Mohammed is her knack for what could be tagged ‘extreme characters’. Some of her heroes/heroines are so weak that they could be likened to a lame child standing on the way of a violent flashflood - not a chance for even a last gasp! And the antagonists are more despotic than Hitler. Habiba, Saleh, Hamsatu and Malam Zubairu symbolize the two extremes. While the first two are totally helpless and hopeless in the face of the storm, the latter are unstoppable monsters, driving savagely against their helpless victims, and hitting them even when they are already down.
This style of characterization, in which the victims are defeated without much struggle, could weaken the seriousness and credibility of a story if it’s not well handled. But the author seems to have expertly escaped the flaw through her choice and handling of the subject-matter. She succeeds in harnessing the tricky technique towards emphasizing the hopelessness of the situation and thus defining herself as a realist writer. As she has consistently done in her previous works, she appears to be saying here; ‘This is what happens’, unlike the idealist writer who would rather say; ‘This is what I wish to see happen’.
Whether or not the realist approach is more effective in addressing the issue at hand, in achieving the desired aim of changing the plight of the girl-child for the better, is arguable. What is obvious, however, is that the author has succeeded in depicting an image that is capable of touching the hearts of her readers.
Some female writers often shy away from being labeled feminists, but Razinat Mohammed could be speaking through her female characters when she reflects the mind of Sadia who ‘failed to see the correlation between physical and mental superiority that men so often claim over women.’ (P. 47). The author is not ashamed of being called a feminist writer perhaps because her brand of feminism is not the desperate or fanatical type that seeks absolute equality rather than equity. The character, Aisha, an enterprising housewife who engages in small scale trading, is a perfect embodiment of the author’s feminist view: ‘… she (Aisha) was satisfied with whatever her husband gave her… She was actually content with her life as a second wife to such a man as Hashimu who was well respected in the society. He provided for his family in ways that made his home the envy of most.’ (P. 90).
What makes Razinat Mohammed’s writings unique, apart from her soft, feminine literary voice, is the fact that her messages are always in tune with the cultures of the communities concerned and have global and timeless relevance and appeal. To her, gender equity means everyone, male or female, should be given the opportunities to acquire all that are necessary for the enhancement of his/her roles in the scheme of things. And to this end, the author believes education and economic empowerment make a better wife and mother just as much as they make a better husband and father; and in turn, a better family and a better society.
Habiba would have indeed been a perfect novel but for some minor lapses like lengthy paragraphs that could have been sliced into reader-friendly sizes with dialogues and other devices, too much effort at explaining some Hausa concepts which could simply be understood contextually, and inadequate description of the characters in terms of appearance, which leaves some of them vague, more like silhouettes.
On the whole, the intellectual depth of the novel, its captivating storyline and flowing narration seasoned in literary devices like simile and metaphor, tend to make up for the shortcomings. The novel is a must-read for the students of literature and the reading public who are interested in good literary materials and the contemporary gender issues.
Habiba is a veritable testimony to Razinat Mohammed’s position as one of the leading literary voices in the North and Nigeria in general. A Senior Lecturer at the University of Maiduguri, she teaches African Literature with specialization in Women Studies and Comparative Literature. She is a 2011 Resident Writer at El-Gouna, Egypt, and a prolific writer who has since the 1990s produced quite number of works. They include A Love Like a Woman’s and Other Stories (2005), which won the maiden edition of the Association of Nigerian Authors/Lantern Book Prize, and her latest, The Travails of a First Wife (2015).