The mixture between ignorance and quality causes African literature to fascinate and surprise in equal parts for those who approach it for the first time. The course organized in the La Fabulosa bookstore, which closes its second edition in June, approaches us to African literature.
A course that goes beyond a reading club about African writers? The idea started from Alina, the coordinator of the initiative and, in addition, regent of the La Fabulosa bookstore, in Madrid, whom Soraya Aybar, director of Africa Mundi, gives her all the merit: “It was she who put in touch with me to propose this type of course.” A concept that “is a bit from the typical reading workshops where only deepens in the novel as such or in the most literary sense of work.” The course, which provides monthly sessions, both face -to -face and virtual, covers a little more, since, according to Aybar, “we reserve almost half of the class to contextualization about the country on which the story we read is based.” This is something that participants appreciate, such as Javier, who loves the format because “it allows to obtain a more complete vision of African reality.”
The course, in which almost a dozen novels from different countries are read, stands out because all have been written by African. The idea was also from Alina, but Soraya quickly assigned her, because “if it is already difficult to talk about African literature in general, regardless of gender, it is much more complicated if we talk about women,” although, as highlights, “there are, and there are high quality, and they must be recognized.” Among the novels of this second edition you can find In the company of men, of Véronique Tadjo; Neighbours, of Lília Momplé (see mn 693, pp. 52-53), The albina of money, of Trifonia Melibea; either Ève among your rubble, from Ananda Devi. Questioned what I would recommend to start in African literature, Soraya is clear. On the one hand, he proposes the trilogy The country of others, by Leila Slimani, “one of my favorite authors”, and, on the other hand, the Ghanesa Yaa Gyasi – in photography – and her book Return home“A pound.” To them two, adds Kapano Matllwa (see mn 669, pp. 52-53).
Beyond that there are several students who have participated in the first two editions and that they would sign up for a third, which Aybar stands out is that students “are really learning, because their questions drink a lot of concepts, countries or authors that we have been seeing in the previous sessions.” Behind there is an important job not only of historical and political contextualization of each of the novels, but also of their selection. Here lies one of the greatest challenges, “finding African literature translated into Spanish from one of the countries of the continent.” While it is true that there are some such as Nigeria, Morocco, South Africa, Kenya or Tanzania on which it is easier to find works, Aybar points out that “there are other countries with a lot of continental and geopolitical relevance on which it is more complicated, such as Sahelian countries or those of central Africa.”
However, that effort gives its results because Javier, assistant to the course, highlights that one of the things that has marked him most of African literature “is the depth and variety of themes dealing with the writers we have worked.” Stands out My longest letterby Mariama Ba, which was part of the selection of the second edition. Although published in 1979, “it treasures a huge variety of political and social ideas very advanced for the time”, which, for Javier, is a sign that the African continent is “a rich place in political positions and attempts to social advances that coexist with a vast source of local traditions.”
In June the second edition ends. And they are already thinking about the third, although they still do not know if it will be in September or in January, because, as Aybar states, “I have so many countries to talk about, that we cannot now stop the machinery.”
Photography: Paul Marotta/Getty
