Daughters who walk this path review— Coming of age story marred by sexual abuse and fallout
“Bros T has been coming to my room at night” says thirteen year old Morayo. With one line, she brings her family up-to-date with the trauma she’s been living with for the last three months. It is one of the lines in the books that evokes the most emotion, the loudest cry for help. It is meant to have her loved ones, her immediate family protect, heal her and punish the accused. It’s all the more heartbreaking when they don’t. With our society’s current landscape which fails to punish offenders or support victims, Yejide’s book written eight years ago set in decades past, unfortunately feels and sounds eerily familiar to the present.
In a much outdated and yet traditional response to rape, her family simply removes the relative from the home and never speaks about it again. The adults around her respond with deafening silence and leave her to deal with the fallout. The assault occurs early in the book and we follow through on how her family’s silence, patriarchy and old-fashioned cultural traditions continue to exacerbate the pain of the abuse with Morayo. Even years later, Morayo looks on and quips “Bros T’s ghost walks around the house”. In her coming-of-age story, the question of whether certain choices Morayo made could have been different, if the trauma had not occurred or had been dealt with in the most humane of ways, is quite loud while remaining unspoken. Morayo is forced into a different reality by this act of violence perpetuated against her.
We are initially introduced to Eniayo — Morayo’s albino sister, whose childish naivete is allowed to remain as she is spared the trauma, in part by Morayo’s determination to safeguard her sister. Yejide serves her up as a divergent point, what could have happened without trauma. Her aunt, Morenike is another strong character — a victim of sexual assault herself –raises the child of rape, battles challenges of being a woman in 1980s, — and provides the only succor to Morayo when no one from her family would.
The book spans a little over two decades — from Morayo’s idyllic childhood in the 1980s, through her traumatic adolescence, troubled twenties and reconciliatory thirties. Across the overall telling, it becomes a coming of age story of someone who’s had a traumatic experience. Yejide writes about courageous women and tough subjects but at no point sensationalizes them to drive the point.
It is also messy, occasionally feels like a work in progress and several of the artistic choices with Morayo rings untrue. Several of those moments are flashed across the book to one’s displeasure. The most jarring is the aftermath of her seduction of a student pastor against his wishes, had her equating her actions to those of her abuser. These moments are meant to show Morayo’s foibles and overall humanity, but they mostly come out dry and quite, difficult to swallow .
Ultimately, Daughters who walk this path is an unwavering portrayal of the failures of our society — local and global — in protecting victims of sexual assault. Yejide’s artistic debut is a must read for providing access to an intimate description of what the pain of sexual assault looks like for a Nigerian woman.
If you like this, and you might be interested in economic articles, follow the link below; https://medium.com/vox-nigeria/the-millionaire-craze-in-nigeria-eaa2cf25ce30
