Marlama Bé: Rejection Mariama BA (Senegal) was born In 1929, She attended a French primary school, and later became a teacher and was active in women’s organizations, She was disturbed by what she saw of the suffering of women. She herself struggled to get an education because her traditionalist grandparents did not feel girls should be educated. She wrote In French, Her most famous work Is probably So long a letter, a prizewinning novel. She died In 1981, Rejection is extracted from So long a letter, published as a short story in 1998, The story Is written In the form of a letter, as though the speaker is writing to a friend, She begins the story with “My own crisis came three years after your own”. She is writing to someone who has had a crisis, Loo. Perhaps this suggests that such crises were common in her society. The world Ba describes Is an Islamic world In Senegal, where French is spoken. In North Africa, Islam Is the most prominent religion, and it has a strong Influence on cultural life, In the Islamic community it Is permissible for a husband to take on more wives than one, under certain conditions. The story starts with the idea of a “crisis”, and the story is called ‘Rejection’. So, in terms of the structure, the turning point is the main focus of the story, We need to read to see how the speaker deals with the crists.MY OWN CRISIS CAME three years after your own. But unlike in your own case, the source was not my family-in-law. The problem was 100g in Modou himself, my husband, . My daughter Daba, who was preparing for her baccalauréal,’ often brought some of her classmates home with her. Most of the time it way the same young girl, a bit shy, frail, made noticeably uncomfortable by our style of life. But she was really beautiful in this her adolescent peticn, in her faded but clean clothes! Her beauty shone, pure. Her shapely contours could not but be noticed. I sometimes noticed that Modou was interested in the pair. Neither was I worried when I heard him suggest that he should take Binetou home in the car - “because it was getting late,” he would say. Binetou was going through a metamorphosis,? however, She was non wearing very expensive off-the-peg dresses. Smilingly, she would explain to my daughter: “Oh, I have a sugar-daddy who pays for them.” Then one day, on her return from school Daba confided to me that Binetou had a serious problem: “The Sugar-daddy of the boutique dresse: wants to marry Binetou. Just imagine. Her Parents want to withdraw her from school, with only a few months to go before the bac, to marry her off to the sugar-daddy.” “Advise her to refuse,” I said. “And if the man in question offers her a villa, cat, a monthly allowance, jewels?” “None of that is worth the capital* of youth.” “Lagree with you, mum. I'll tell Binetou not to 8ive in; but her mother is a woman who wants so much to escape from mediocrity and who regrets so much her past beauty, faded in the smoke from the wood Ares that she looks enviously at everything I wear; she complains all day jong.’ “What is important is Binetou herself, She must not give in.” | And then, a few days afterwards, Daba renewed the conversation, with ils surprising conclusion, “Mum! Binetou Is heartbroken. She is : i going to marry her sugar-daddy Her mother cried so much, She begged her daughter to give her lifea Mecca’ for her parents, " baccoleurtat- sometimes shortened to boc. diploma nia ranma i ete edt rae ese ame » Mecca =i Saud Arabic cone oe tons aaa ‘i to make a pilgrimage. * eaplal~te is contest, the “asset, oF advantage” of you, aT aaa caaadss itenereed bes ene anaes:happy end, ta proper house, as the man has promised them, So she ageepted.” “When fs the wedding?” “this coming Sunday, but there'll be no reception, Hineton cannot bear the mockery of her frends.” And in the evening of this same Sunday on which Binetou was being married off 1 saw come Into my house, all dressed up and solemn, Tamstr, Modou's brother, with Mawdo a and his local Imam.’ Where had they come from, looking so awkward in their starched boubous?? Doubtless, they had come looking for Modou to carry out an Important task that one of them had been charged with, | told them that Modou had been out since moming, They entered laughing, deliberately sniffing the fragrant odour of incense that was floating on the air. [sat In front of them, laughing with them, The Imam attacked: “There is nothing one can do when Allah the almighty puts two people side by side.” “True, true,” sald the other two in support. A pause. He took a breath and continued: “There is nothing new in this world.” “True, true,” Tamsir and Mawdo chimed in again. “Some things we may find to be sad are much less so than others ...” 1 followed the movement of the haughty lips that let fall these axioms, which can precede the announcement of either a happy event oran unhappy one, What was he leading up to with these preliminaries that rather announced a storm? So their visit was obviously planned. Does one announce bad news dressed up like that in one's Sunday best? Or did they want to inspire confidence with their impeccable? dress? I thought of the absent one. | asked with the cry of a hunted beast: “Modou?” And the Imam, who had finally got hold of a leading thread, held tightly on to it, He went on quickly, as if the words were glowing embers in his mouth: “Yes, Modou Fall, but, happily, he is alive for you, forall of us, thanks be to God. All he has done is to marry a second wife today, We have just come from the mosque In Grand Dakar where the marrage took place.” The thorns thus removed from the way, Tamsir ventured: *Modou sends his thanks. He says It fs fate that decides men and thing:intended him to have a second wife, there is nothing he can do about it. He praises you for the quarter of a century of marriage in which YOu gaye him all the happiness a wife owes her husband. His family, especially myself, his elder brother, thank you, You have always held us in Fespect. You know that we are Modou’s blood.” Afterwards there were the same old words, which were intended to relieve the situation: “You are the only one in your house, no matter how big it is, no matter how dear life is. You are the first wife, a mother for Modou, a friend for Modou.” ‘Tamsir's Adam's apple danced about in his throat. He shook his left leg, crossed over his folded right leg. His shoes, white Turkish slippers, were covered with a thin layer of red dust, the colour of the earth in which they had walked. The same dust covered Mawdo’s and the Imam's shoes. Mawdo said nothing. He was reliving his own experience. He was thinking of your letter, your reaction, and you and I were so alike. He was being wary. He kept his head lowered, in the attitude of those who accept defeat before the battle. T acquiesced! under the drops of poison that were burning me: “A quarter of a century of marriage”, “a wife unparalleled”. | counted backwards to determine where the break in the thread had occurred from which everything had unwound. My mother’s words came back to me: “Too perfect. ...” 1 completed at last my mother’s thought with the end of the dictum:? “... to be honest”. [ thought of the first two incisors with a wide gap between them, the sign of the primacy of love in the individual. I thought of his absence, all day long. He had simply said: “Don't expect me for lunch.” I thought of other absences, quite frequent these days, crudely clarified today yet well hidden yesterday under the guise of trade union meetings. He was also on a strict diet, “to break the stomach’s egg,” he would say laughingly, this egg that announced old age. Every night when he went out he would unfold and try on several of his suits before settling on one. The others, impatiently rejected, would slip to the floor. 1 would have to fold them again and put them back In their places; and this extra work, I discovered, | was doing only to help him in his effort to be elegant in his seduction of another woman. | forced myself to check my inner agitation, Above all, I must not gi¥€ my visitors the pleasure of relating my distress. Smile, take the matter 1 acquiesced — | apeed, 2 Saennd: covert toed LLG a capac mamaslightly, just as they announced it. Thank them for the humane way in which they have accomplished their mission. Send thanks to Modou, “a good father and a good husband”, “a husband become a friend”. Thank my family-in-law, the Imam, Mawdo. Smile. Give them something to drink. See them out, under the swirls of incense that they were sniffing once again. Shake their hands. How pleased they were, all except Mawdo, who correctly summed up the import of the event. Alone at last, able to give free rein to my surprise and to measure my distress. Ah! Yes, I forgot to ask for my rival’s name so that | might give a human form to my pain. My question was soon answered. Acquaintances from Grand Dakar came rushing to my house, bringing the various details of the ceremony. Some of them did so out of true friendship for me; others were spiteful and jealous of the promotion Binetou’s mother would gain from the marriage. “| don’t understand.” They did not understand either the entrance of Modou, a “personality”, into this extremely poor family. Binetou, a child the same age as my daughter Daba, promoted to the rank of my co-wife, whom I must face up to. Shy Binetou! The old man who brought her the new off-the-peg dresses to teplace the old faded ones was none other than Modou. She had innocently confided her secrets to her rival’s daughter because she thought that this dream, sprung from a brain growing old, would never become reality. She had told everything: the villa, the monthly allowance, the offer of a future trip to Mecca for her parents. She thought she was stronger than the man she was dealing with. She did not know Modou’s strong will, his tenacity! before an obstacle, the pride he invests in winning, the resistance that inspires new attempts at each failure. Daba was furious, her pride wounded. She repeated all the nicknames Binetou had given her father: old man, pot-belly, sugar-daddy! - the Person who gave her life had been daily ridiculed and he accepted it. An overwhelming anger raged inside Daba. She knew that her best friend was sincere in what she said. But what can a child do, faced witha furious mother shouting about her hunger and her thirst to live? Binetou, like many others, was a lamb slaughtered on the altar of affluence. Daba’s anger increased as she analysed the situation: “Break with him, mother! Send this man away. He has respected neither you nor ee tenacliy = pershitence, resolve, determination.me. Do what Aunty Aissatou did; break with him. Tell me you'll break with him. | can’t see you fighting over a man with a girl my age. : | told myself what every betrayed woman says: if Modou was milk, it was I who had had all the cream. The rest, well, nothing but water witha vague smell of milk. ; But the final decision lay with me. With Modou absent all night (was he already consummating his marriage?), the solitude that lends counse! enabled me to grasp the problem. Leave? Start again at zero, after living twenty-five years with one man, after having borne twelve children? I take a deep breath. I've related at one go your story as well as mine. I’ve said the essential, for pain, even when it’s past, leaves the same marks on the individual when recalled. Your disappointment was mine, as my rejection was yours. Forgive me once again if | have Te-opened your wound. Mine continues to bleed, You may tell me: the Path of life is not smooth; one is bruised by its sharp edges. | also know that marriage is never smooth, It reflects differences in character and capacity for feeling. In one couple the man may be the victim away at health, wealth and peace. It shows up an individual's disordered ipectacles by which his dignity is undermined, in situations where physic ical blows become solid arguments and the menacing blade of a knife an irresistible call for silence, With others it is the lure of easy gain that dominates: incorrigible players at the gaming table or seated in the shade of a tree. The heated atmosphere of rooms full of fiendish odours, the distorted faces of tense players. The giddy whirl of Playing cards swallows up time, wealth, conscience, and stops only with the last breath of the person accustomed to shuffling them. I try to spot my faults in the failure of my marriage. I gave freely, gave more than I received. | am one of those who can realise themselves fully and bloom truly when they form part of a couple. Even though "understand your stand, even though I Tespect the choice of liberated women, I have never conceived of happiness outside marriage. I loved my house. You can testify to the fact that I made it a haven of peace where everything had its place, that I created a harmonious iinsymphony of colours. You know how soft-hearted | am, how much I loved Modou. You can testify to the fact that, mobilised day and night in his service, I anticipated his slightest desire. I made peace with his family. Despite his desertion of our home, his father and mother and Tamsir, his brother, still continued to visit me often, as did his sisters. My children too grew up without much ado. Their success at school was my pride, just like laurels thrown at the feet of my lord and master. And Modou was no prisoner. He spent his time as he wished. I well understood his desire to let off steam. He fulfilled himself outside as he wished in his trade union activities. 1am trying to pinpoint any weakness in the way I conducted myself. My social life may have been stormy and perhaps injured Modou’s trade union career. Can a man, deceived and flouted! by his family, impose himself on others? Can a man whose wife does not do her job well honestly demand a fair reward for labour? Aggression and condescension in a woman arouse contempt and hatred for her husband. If she is gracious, even without appealing to any ideology, she can summon support for any action. Ina word, a man’s success depends on feminine support. And I ask myself. | ask myself, why? Why did Modou detach himself? Why did he put Binetou between us? You, very logically, may reply: “Affections spring from nothing; sometimes a grimace, the carriage of a head can seduce a heart and keep it? Task myself questions. The truth is that, despite everything, I remain faithful to the love of my youth. Aissatou, I cry for Modou, and | can do Nothing about it. Yesterday I celebrated, as is the custom, the fortieth day of Modou’s death. I have forgiven him. May God hear the prayer I say for him every day. I celebrated the fortieth day in meditation. The initiated read the Koran, Their fervent voices rose towards heaven. Modou Fall, my God accept you among his chosen few. water going eradatl the motions of piety, Tamsir came and sat in my bedroom in the blue armchair that used to be your favourite. Sticking his head outside, he signalled to Mawdo; he also signalled to the sion from the Mosque in his area. The Imam and Mawdo joined him. This i time, Tamsir speaks. There Is a striking resemblance between Modou an " Weuted deli, disobeyed epee cate ay‘Tamsir, the same tics donated by the inexplicable law of heredity. cain speaks with great assurance; he touches, once again, on my, Las ol . martlage, then he concludes: “When you have ‘come out’ (that is to say, of mourning), I shall marry you. You suit me as a wife, and further, you Will continue to live here, just as if Modou were not dead. Usually it Is the Younger brother who inherits his elder brother's wife. In this case, itis the Opposite. You are my good luck. | shall marry you. I prefer you to the other one, too frivolous, too young. | advised Modou against that marriage, What a declaration of love, full of conceit, in a house still in Mourning. What assurance and calm aplomb! | look Tamsir stralght in the eye. Hook at Mawdo. I look atthe fmm. 1 draw my black shaw! closer, I tell my beads.' This Ume | shall speak out. My voice has known thirty years of silen , thirty: {1 bursts out, violent, sometimes Sarcastic, sometimes. “Did you ever have any affection for your brothe to build a new home for yourself, over a. body th: We ate praying for Modou, you are thinking of future wedding festivities. “Ab, yes! Your strategy Is to get in before any other suitor, to get in before Mawdo, the faithful friend, who tas more qualities than you and who also, according to custom, wife. You forget that I havea heart, a mind, hand. You don't know wh, And of love, the and who has chosen you." “What of your wives, Needs nor those of your years of harassment, contemptuous. ¥? Already you want at is still warm. While “And then there are Daba an id hy thetr financial acumen by buying ue mtS2nd, who have demonstrated nd: up all Promotion for yout Your fri Pega fee others ee their eyes,” Mawdo signaled with his hand for “Shut up! Shut up! stop! Stopl” Stop. R beads - prayer bend NB to look at you with envy inBut you can’t stop once you've let your anger loose. I concluded, more violent than ever: “Tamsir, purge yourself of your dreams of conquest. They have lasted forty days. I shall never be your wife.” The Imam prayed God to be his witness. “Such profane words and still in mourning!” Tamsir got up without a word. He understood fully that he'd been defeated. Thus I took my revenge for that other day when all three of them had airily' informed me of the marriage of Modou Fall and Binetou. Questions for group discussion, or for written work. 1, What are the reasons Binetou does not want to get married? What are the reasons she is being pressured to be married? Describe Binetou’s change (or metamorphosis) in the first four paragraphs of the story. Compare the first visit of the three men, with their second visit, saying why the second is different. Daba urges her mother to break with her husband after he takes a second wife. Why does she stay with him? Ba describes the life of women in her society. Write a paragraph on the situation of women, as described in the story. (4) How does the speaker regain some of her pride in the story?