Nervous Conditions by Tsitsi Dangarembga

I had been asked, on two different occasions, by two different colleagues who are studying, if I had read this book. Now, I will confess to anyone who asks (except maybe my own kids, should I ever have any), that I was a useless student at university in my undergrad years. I should have read this at university. I remembered that much. But with the exception of one scene, I could remember nothing. (Which probably means that scene was mentioned in a lecture and that I didn't read it.) As luck would have it, I then stumbled across a copy of it at my favourite second hand bookshop (The fact that I didn't already own it also strongly suggests that I didn't read it.). I decided I should remedy that.

“I was not sorry when my brother died.” is the opening line. Set in Rhodesia (Zimbabwe nowadays), this story follows a young Shona girl, Tamba, wanting to be educated. It paints a very clear, and yet complicated, view on the struggles of the people, especially women and girls. Women are meant to serve men. They do not need to be educated. They only need to learn how to cook, grow vegetables and be good, obedient wives. Through Tamba's eyes, we learn not only her story, but the story of her cousin, Nyasha, who spent her formative years in England and who has now returned to Africa; and her aunt, Maiguru, a woman who is educated.

There are books that are written for escapism and enjoyment. And then there are other books. Books that make you judge the characters and their situations, and then turn around and judge yourself. Books that make you ask questions, because things you thought you were sure on, no longer seem that simple. Nervous Conditions falls into this category of book. I have never had a face to face conversation with anyone who has enjoyed this book. For one, everyone who I have spoken to about it had to read it for university, and there is nothing like the words 'prescribed reading' to make even the most avid lover of books dislike reading. But there is a lot more than that that can make a reader not enjoy this one. For starters, it is not a plot driven novel. It is a study of a family, a study of the women in this family, and a study of a patriarch. Secondly, the situation, which is so real and accurate, is so frustrating, and as a reader, one is merely an observer and helpless. The sense of helplessness is only exacerbated because that is exactly the situation Tamba is in. Actually, all the women in this book are helpless to change their situations.

“Can you cook books and feed them to your husband? Stay at home with your mother. Learn to cook and clean. Grow vegetables.”

― Tsitsi Dangarembga, Nervous Conditions

After this point I get a bit spoilery. Although I am basically discussing the themes of the book, but, as the book isn't plot heavy, you should be able to work out a lot. Be warned.

Education. Yes, we preach that through education, one can change their position. But is that really true? If those that have the power do not allow the powerless to have any power, can education make any difference to the powerless? Surely it would be the equivalent of taking a starving man to a feast and telling him he can't eat anything. It was that horrific realisation that really affected me throughout this read. Tamba got to go to school. but at no point did I ever believe that she was free of the life she was destined to live before she had the opportunity. In fact, what was more horrifying, was that I honestly believed that being educated would have only made her future worse, as she would be aware that there was an alternative and her knowledge that she was capable of so much more. Now, we never get to see her future (not in this book at least. Apparently there is a sequel.), so this is me speculating. Although, I think one was meant to. The plight of her cousin, Nyasha, makes the suffering so clear. The situation her aunt is in also confirms this. But more on this later.

The men in Nervous Conditions infuriated me. Jeremiah, Tamba's father, was lazy, he lied, he put his own pleasure first and cared little for his family. And no, I was not expecting Disney-fied bonding sessions out on the lawn with the kids. I am referring to him buying alcohol while his family needed food and clothes - and education. He couldn't be bothered to do repairs on the 'house'. He thought education was a waste of time, and did nothing to encourage his children. But when his brother, Babamukuru, came around, then he was a mewling, supplicant pain in the backside. I suppose this needs a bit of explaining. Babamukuru, being the oldest brother and the wealthiest brother, supported his entire family - which included all his brothers and their families. Whenever Babamukuru arrived on the scene I found my dislike for Jeremiah multiplying. But. This does not mean that I appreciated Babamukuru at all. I used the word 'supplicant' above, because Babamukuru acted as though he was the god of the family. I think he liked having everyone bow down to him (literally) and beg him for scraps, and then praise his generosity for providing. While I do not envy his responsibility, I could not help judging him. Am I being unfair? Would I, in that position, have given more if I were the one working? Would I have also expected people to praise me and thank me? Possibly. But he really annoyed me. Especially considering the position he put Miaguru, his wife, in. After learning that, I felt he was less worthy.

Constantly there is talk in the reading circles I follow about feminism. The need for strong female characters. Well, here is a book with strong female characters; and here is a book that will make all us white women feel we have far less to complain about. To see this struggle was painful; to realise just how indoctrinated the view of feminine inferiority and male superiority was in the culture. Take the issue with another random aunt. She is accused of doing something wrong, and as a result, this needs to be discussed. The men discuss it, while the accused is left outside with all the other women and girls, eavesdropping. But in general, one sees the men giving the boys allowances, whereas one step out of line, one disagreement with the man's wishes, and a girl's entire character is debased. I think the quote below sums up everything much better than I could put it.

“...condemning Nyasha to whoredom, making her a victim of her femaleness, just as I had felt victimised at home in the days when Nhamo went to school and I grew my maize. The victimisation, I saw, was universal. It didn't depend on poverty, on lack of education or on tradition. It didn't depend on any of the things I had thought it depended on. Men took it everywhere with them. Even heroes like Babamukuru did it. And that was the problem. You had to admit Nyasha had no tact. You had to admit she was altogether too volatile and strong-willed. You couldn't ignore the fact that she had no respect for Babamukuru when she ought to have had lots of it. But what I didn't like was the way that all conflicts came back to the question of femaleness. Femaleness as opposed and inferior to maleness.”

― Tsitsi Dangarembga, Nervous Conditions

The effects of colonialism - a difficult subject, because one's own culture and upbringing determines which way of life is 'better'. It is clear that Tamba's mother did not appreciate anything to do with colonialism. Their ancestors were chased off the better land, and they were now, as a result, trying to survive on land that was arid and infertile. She did not appreciate the airs and graces that her niece and nephew had after their return from England, nor her son, when he returned from school. But there was also another side to it. One could not deny that Babamukuru had benefited tremendously. But it was with Nyasha that I felt the most. She was a girl who had spent many years in England. She saw what the alternatives to her culture were and she wanted to embrace it. She did for years. But on returning to Africa, and where she was expected to return to being a diligent Shona girl, she could not make the adjustment. She could not go from knives and forks to eating with her fingers. She could not even remember her own language upon returning. It does not take much imagination to sympathise with her. But her situation with Babamukuru just made it so much worse. The end result for Nyasha still upsets me.

“It’s bad enough . . . when a country gets colonized, but when the people do as well! That’s the end, really, that’s the end.”

― Tsitsi Dangarembga, Nervous Conditions

I must admit that I really wish I had read this at university. I am sure that there is a lot more I would have gained from this book if I had lectures on it and notes to go with. Maybe I can find my file and see what I was given.

I gave this 4 stars because - I don't know. Maybe I should bump it up to a 5 star book. It is clear it did give me a lot to think about. I would recommend this for folks who are interested in reading feminist texts, or folks who are wanting to read diversely and read about different cultures.