The third section has village girl Kirabo attend a prestigious English language boarding school – her time there taking place against the increasing violence and disappearances (including Sio – now her boyfriend’s – father) and then civil war of Amin-era Uganda. The author has named Tsitsi Dangarembga’s “Nervous Conditions” as one of her key literary inspirations – but this reader was inevitably strongly reminded of “The Book of Not”. Upon arriving in Kampala, Tom told his wife, "That is Kirabo. This is her home". Turbulent, confusing times for Kirabo...soon off to an elite private school. If Kirabo were home, the entire village would have given her a send-off. "Let your ancestors' blessings walk with you...". Kirabo just put her suitcase in the boot of Tom's car. This is very much a novel about the lives women negotiate for themselves within a patriarchal system, and there are a lot of interesting women in it. There’s Kirabo’s aunt Abi, an independent and liberated single woman who nevertheless hates her brother’s wife for breaking the traditional wifely mold. There’s Nsuuta, the old blind woman with her ideas of sisterhood and sexual equality, who was once a nurse and now claims to be a witch. There are women negotiating their roles within marriage and clan: Nnambi, who’s fighting for a more modern marriage where she can focus on her nuclear family without propitiating her husband’s clan; Gayi, who runs away to marry across ethnic and religious lines; Nsangi, whose age allows her to take an almost patriarchal role in the family. And then there are the more modern boarding school girls, particularly Kirabo’s sweet and ambitious friend Atim, whom I’d have loved to see more of. I wish we could have seen more of all these ladies, and not filtered through Kirabo.

I want to add some of the quotes that will make the readers understand the honesty and rawness of each of them. The beauty and truth these words carry, even in today’s day and age, will be remarkable to see. I saw the honesty and intelligence residing in these words. I also found myself thinking about the state of women, and how even today, our silence is valued and respected. There were so many similarities between the Ugandan and Kerala cultures. I appreciated the representation of the state of women, and I am glad to see the situations voiced by the author. I believe the book will be incredibly thought-provoking, and the words will resonate with people who have lived in patriarchal societies. This was about as enjoyable as root-canal and a prostate exam happening at the same time. I was left feeling assaulted, morally & physically if not sexually, and remain as if a prefrontal lobotomy has been performed without my knowledge...or I think without my knowledge or permission? Firstly I am a huge fan of literature that takes us elsewhere, into the storytelling traditions of other cultures, seen from the inside, but told in a way that doesn't alienate a reader from outside that culture, but has both a particular and universal message. Once we shrunk, men had to look after us, and it was not long before they started to own us. Fathers sold daughters; husbands bought wives. Once we became a commodity, men could do whatever they wished with us. Even now our bodies do not belong to us. That is why when they need it, they will grab it. Things were so bad in some cultures, women had to be hidden away to protect them, in separate spaces where no men were allowed. Soon, they had to be spoken for by men.our Original State ….. was wonderful for us. We were not squeezed inside, we were huge, strong, bold, loud, proud, brave, independent. But it was too much for the world and they got rid of it. However occasionally the state is reborn in a girl like you. But in all cases it is suppressed Published next month, Diane Watt’s Women, Writing and Religion in England and Beyond, 650–1100 argues that women were at the heart of the emerging English literary tradition much earlier. Watt, a professor at the University of Surrey, lays out in the book how some anonymous texts from the period were probably created by women, and contends that men rewrote works originally produced by women. I recall that in Kintu Makumbi set part of her story in the pre-colonial 1700’s and other parts in modern times; colonial interlopers had left their imprint, however it was not their story nor a story of their influence, except to note the impact on the kingdom and so too is The First Woman that belongs to its people, whose existence grows and evolves from its own origins, belief systems and traditions and is challenged from within. Kirabo meeting Nsuuta (her grandfather's 2nd wife) for the first time. She came to Nsuuta, wanting advice re: her worry that she sometimes flew out of her body. She also wants advice on how to find her mother. We follow Kirabo's life from age 12 (1975) to age 20. During this time, she seeks her mother. Her relationship with her father and step-mother change.

We were not squeezed inside, we were huge, strong, bold, loud, proud, brave, independent. But it was too much for the world and they got rid of it. However, occasionally that state is reborn in a girl like you. But in all cases, it is suppressed. IN your case the first woman flies out of your body because it does not relate to the way this society is.” That is why the day you catch your man with another woman, you will go for the woman and not him. My grandmothers called it kweluma. That is when oppressed people turn on each other or on themselves and bite. It is as a form of relief. If you cannot bite your oppressor, you bite yourself.” Her book brings a host of early female writers together, including Leoba, an English missionary and abbess of Tauberbischofsheim in Franconia who died in 782; and Hugeburc, an English nun who joined the Benedictine monastery of Heidenheim. Leoba’s one surviving letter features the earliest example of poetry by an Englishwoman (“Farewell, and may you live long and happily, making intercession for me,” runs Watt’s translation from the Latin), while Hugeburc wrote an account of the lives of the brothers St Willibald and St Winnebald. Hugeburc is seen as the first named English woman writer of a full-length narrative, with her authorship of the text only discovered in the 20th century, when her name was found to be encrypted in the manuscript. Unencrypted, the Latin reads: “ Ego una Saxonica nomine Hugeburc ordinando hec scribebam,” or “I, a Saxon nun named Hugeburc, wrote this”.Storytelling is an essential element of this book. Early on, Kirabo begs Nsuuta to tell the story of why women had the position they occupied in society.

From there though I felt the novel too unraveled – or perhaps my ability to access it was inadequate. A lengthy mourning and then will scene after a death left me struggling to follow the dynamics of the various family members and the interactions of the different clans and tribes, as well as some of the customs and language used. Further the resolution of the identity of Kirabo’s mother I found one generational link to many. The second section of the book follows Kirabo as she is taken by her father Tommy to Kampala in 1977. There to her horror she finds she has a stepmother and step-siblings and relationships with her stepmother are strained on both sides.The First Woman might even have surpassed Kintu which was fabulous and my outstanding read of 2018. Kirabo is a bright, driven young girl coming of age in 1970s Uganda. She navigates a world shaped by patriarchy, colonialism, Idi Amin’s brutal regime, and complex overlapping hierarchies of clans, classes and ethnic groups. Kirabo’s extended family has its share of secrets and long-held grudges, not least of which is the identity of Kirabo’s own mother. Watt also argues that an anonymous eighth-century Life of Gregory the Great could have been produced by one of the nuns in Whitby’s double monastery, not necessarily by a monk. “The emphasis on women within the text would seem to reflect the interests of women, which would seem to suggest female authorship,” she said. Rites of passage: interesting amongst these was the topic of Labia stretching (it was really new to me) The First Woman is a lively, engaging read, and Makumbi cleverly braids the immensely personal – Kirabo’s yearning for a mother who appears to want nothing to do with her – with far larger scale social and political shifts. It is a novel that deliberately meanders, and veers between delivering condensed gouts of information with more leisurely set pieces; but its energy derives from its considerable wit and the charm of its central character.