Book Review and Reflection of African Love Stories: An Anthology

African love stories is authored by various African women from various African countries.

Edited by: Ama Ata Aidoo

Published: 2006

Get the book HERE

African Love Stories: Introduction

In my usual way, I went into this book blindly. I read the title, and I was sold. I love love and was extremely excited to read about African love stories. But Ama Ata Aidoo makes it very clear in the introduction that these are not conventional (the Western love stories we are used to) love stories.

These stories are about love nevertheless—in the various ways it is experienced. Relationships that sometimes had a romantic connection, and others with other aims, like survival. In some of them, the love story is not told.

The point that Aidoo makes is that, firstly, African love stories exist. That people do not always live and live happily ever after. Love stories are certainly never smooth.

She adds:

“The twenty-one tales that make up this edition are some of the most complex love stories any reader may have come across in a long time” (page xi).

I concur.

Book Summary

This book is an anthology containing 21 short stories of African people, spanning across the continent. I counted Sudan, several from Nigeria, Uganda, Ghana, Egypt, South Africa, Zimbabwe, Ivory Coast, and Kenya.

Many of the stories do not detail romantic love, and some narrate the afterlives of relationships. Some do not even detail a love connection but rather allude to one. The stories are about the ordinary realities of everyday life—the complexities of co-existence, navigating race, cultural differences, forbidden love in some cases and survival relationships in others. The stories vary in length – Some of the stories are so short that just as you get into them, they end. This is what I felt with Sarah Ladipo Manyika’s Modupe—an extremely short story about a woman reminiscing in an airport lounge.

However, I found many of them—being African myself—resonated with me. Many times, I felt like I was reading something from my own community. It always fascinates me how similar we all are. For instance, strange white men coming to do business in our villages and cities, and taking a native girl for themselves, like in Tropical Fish by Doreen Baingana.

Extramarital affairs, as explored in various stories. ‘Transition to Glory’ by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie—this one had a sudden and unusual, yet very real, twist to it, which I thoroughly enjoyed. The emotions, the commotion, the calm, and even the audacity in the end were remarkable. Molara Ogundipe’s ‘Give Us That Spade!’ details the remnants of an extramarital affair, and it was hilarious! I loved it. I loved the complexity but also the determination and bravery.

Equally, ‘The Rival’ by Yaba Badoe was a hilarity. The audacity of both the sister and the niece is out of this world—or is it? What was striking for me, though, was how Mr. Mensah tried to love the women in his life the best way he could—gentle but firm and fair. He stood up for his wife but also helped his sister and her children, including the one who thought herself worthy of replacing his wife!

I thought Blessing Musariri’s Counting Down the Hours was quite heartbreaking and had many layers of complexity. I loved it when Namibia, my home country, was mentioned, but it left me heartbroken in its brief yet impactful narration of the different relationships we have—family, lovers, and ourselves—and the hurt and loneliness of abandonment.

Véronique Tadjo’s offering, A Sunny Afternoon, is not an extramarital relationship, but it could have been. It was definitely a romantic love story—albeit one-sided and even delusional, but all the same, hopeful. This one was quite gripping, very intense, and complex. I gasped and gasped and gasped as I read. It can be relatable in so many ways to so many people: intense desire, mistakes, self-inflicted heartbreak, bold moves, misjudgment, abandonment. It was everything, and I loved it.

I was a little sad when the protagonist thought on page 220:

“What a silly thing to have done. Nobody escapes reality. Nobody can escape the truth.”

The Lawless by Sefi Atta painted such a bleak picture of loss, poverty, and a government failing its people. The love story—if one can even call it that—was not the main feature, but the author builds several layers that one must peel like an onion. The theme of survival is very much at the centre, but as much of life is, it intertwines with others.

Interracial relationships are narrated in Something Old, Something New by Leila Aboulela, and Marriage and Other Impediments by Tomi Adeaga. There are definite love stories here, but they are not the focus. The focus is elsewhere—overcoming various impediments: culture, religion, race, parental expectations, and much more.

Mildred Kiconco Barya’s Scars of Earth, set in Uganda, was very short but striking. I was reading it expecting something else to have happened—only for the ending to reveal another. This story does not even narrate the love story itself, but leaves it up to our imagination to figure out how much that love story meant to the protagonist.

Sindiwe Magona’s Modi’s Bride tugged at my heartstrings. I could vividly imagine Modi—a strong, determined man who knew exactly who he wanted and would not settle for just anything or anyone. I was surprised that marriage in their culture could come by way of abduction—I thought that was interesting. This story had all the makings of the romantic love stories we consume in Western literature and media: a warrior, a beautiful woman, a tragedy, and a rescue.

Monica Arac de Nyeko’s Jambula Tree was interesting—different from all the rest so far in a particular way, but also like the others in its complexity. It interweaves several stories in one, with snippets across generations—refreshing in that way.

Helen Oyeyemi’s The Telltale Heart was very poetic and lyrical. It might need a few re-reads to grasp—at least, I needed to revisit it to understand some of its deep-rooted meanings.

Nawal El Saadawi’s The Veil was very short, approximately four pages. It was something of a love story, but again, there is a lot to reflect on there—on the relationships we have with ourselves and the way we navigate our relationships with others. Something the protagonist said on page 210 stayed with me:

“A violent desire to find out can sometimes be more compelling than the desire for love and can, at times, draw me into loveless contact simply to satisfy that curiosity.”

Chika Unigwe’s Possessing the Secret of Joy is the penultimate story, and it started off with a very familiar but very bleak beginning. The pressures of parents to marry well—marry rich to lift the family out of poverty. That is a type of pressure that is unimaginable. It has the effect of stripping one of their autonomy, their hold on their own lives.

But what is one to do when one has to think about more than themselves? When the worst has happened to them, and their mother did the best she could to keep them alive? My heart bled for Uju, but it fluttered warmly for her in the end, when Unigwe defined the secret of joy Uju possessed!

Wangui wa Goro’s Deep Sea Fishing was so romantic and touching. I kept thinking the whole time—reciprocity. It was a remarkable way to end the book.

Final Reflections and Recommendations

I did as Ama Ata Aidoo advised in the beginning—took each story in its individuality, savoured it, and sat in it to truly appreciate each and every one. This is what I did; I read one story at a time and let the characters and the storylines sink in.

By nature, I do not gravitate towards short stories, as I tend to have more questions in the end, longing to find out more, knowing no more will come. But these stories, varying in length and tenacity, were holistic nonetheless. They are stories that cover broad themes that encapsulate our varied lived experiences. Although fictional, they resonate in many degrees.

I would recommend it for all adults. Not for those looking for typical romantic stories—even though some of the stories contain this theme—but for those looking for relatable, real stories of how love manifests in our lives in various degrees.

And to cement Aidoo’s advice: read them slowly to take them in.

If you enjoyed this, you might also like our review of Dream Count by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie.