A GIRL IS A BODY OF WATER
By Jennifer Nansubuga Makumbi
Provided love in heartwarming excess by her family, Kirabo enjoys a happy rural childhood in the Ugandan village of Nattetta — yet she cannot shake her sense of longing for a mother she doesn’t know. Kirabo’s loneliness is further complicated by a new discovery; she possesses a rebellious “second self” that does “mad things” and flies out of her body in episodes of uncontrollable deviance.
Connecting this troublesome development to her mother’s absence, Kirabo seeks answers from a local witch, Nsuuta. Kirabo is lucky, the witch insists, because the second self is the nature of the “first woman,” which most women no longer possess.
Nsuuta lures Kirabo with the promise of finding her mother, teaching her about the rebellious start of all women and the power of myths. What ensues in Jennifer Nansubuga Makumbi’s novel is a richly complex journey into girlhood and womanhood, set against the backdrop of a changing nation, suffused with glimpses of Uganda’s own second self — the traditions before Christianity, before colonialism, before Idi Amin and many of the “befores” that time has subdued but not quite erased.
While reconciling her family’s expectations with her desire to find her mother, Kirabo must also confront the idea of being a woman. Makumbi introduces readers to the Indigenous feminism rising out of the experiences of mwenkanonkano, a Ugandan movement that predates Western feminism.
This coming-of-age story also explores how women make other women suffer. We see feminism splinter along class lines, urban and rural lines, along differences of tribe and race. These many sometimes uncomfortable awakenings are woven into Kirabo’s own without once becoming dull anthropology or heartless manifesto. Makumbi neither preaches nor condescends, but with beautiful and subtle prose successfully captures the reader’s imagination.
”A Girl Is a Body of Water” is about mythology, the necessity of examining old myths and even more significantly the urgency of creating new ones. Makumbi does not allow the reader to think of the myth without also considering the mythmaker. This powerful novel dwells in the universe of power as it relates to love and sisterhood.
Makumbi’s cast of witches, harlots, husband stealers, baby killers, flawed feminists and bossy sisters is so fully constructed and flawed, each one feels alive — even if they are villains, poor allies and perhaps poorer friends. Even in their anger and their harshness, their cruelty and their affection, their hatefulness and longing, there’s something appealing about these characters. Furthermore, the radical empathy of Kirabo, even in her pettiness, is contagious. One instance that comes to mind is when Kirabo reunites with a character with whom she has a complicated friendship: “This was no longer the innocent beauty of childhood; this was sharp and malignant. You saw it for the first time, you looked away. Then you stole small secret glances until you got used to it. It was the kind of beauty that made you hate a girl who had done nothing to you.” Kirabo feels this envy and fears that her friend sees it, and tries valiantly to be glad to see her again. That is Kirabo, whose feelings are accompanied by awareness and care, whose eyes we see the world through and understand it together.
Ugandan myth is prevalent in this novel, but readers need no prior knowledge to understand it or be strongly affected by it. Often we are alongside Kirabo as she learns about various mythological figures from Uganda’s folk tales; we learn of Luzze and Nnambi, and we see Kirabo weaponize one story against another character by threatening this person with the fate of the villain. The dialogue has irresistibly Ugandan nuances — for instance, one letter exclaims, “These news are so burning it is a surprise the paper is not on fire.” These cadences train you to follow along, and are not hard to understand; it’s impossible to imagine this book without them. Readers have the pleasure of watching Kirabo evolve from childhood cleverness to cunning and wisdom, her awareness of herself and her place in the world increasing all the while. Makumbi’s voice evolves organically, seamlessly, as her character matures.
The reader cannot escape the intimacy of this story. Makumbi’s prose is irresistible and poignant, with remarkable wit, heart and charm — poetic and nuanced, brilliant and sly, openhearted and cunning, balancing discordant truths in wise ruminations. “A Girl Is a Body of Water” rewards the reader with one of the most outstanding heroines and the incredible honor of journeying by her side.
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