BOOK REVIEW: SO LONG A LETTER BY MARIAMA BÂ

 

Written by Safa Alhassan

Before I say anything about the book itself, let me tell you about the woman who wrote it. Mariama Bâ (April 17, 1929 – August 17, 1981) was a Senegalese novelist, educator and a clear, powerful voice for women in West Africa. She trained as a teacher, worked as an inspector of education, and used her writing to name the injustices women live with especially within marriage and tradition. So Long a Letter (original French title Une si longue lettre) was her breakthrough: a short, searing epistolary novel published in 1979 that won the first Noma Award for Publishing in Africa. Mariama Bâ is a feminist writer who wrote unflinchingly about women’s lives, dignity and agency. 

Mariama Bâ

Her works carry a fire, filled with empathy and rebellion. Through her writing, she questioned the structures that oppressed women and exposed the contradictions between tradition and progress. Sadly, she passed away in 1981, just a year after her debut novel So Long a Letter was published but that single book cemented her as one of Africa’s strongest female literary voices.

Reading So Long a Letter felt like sitting across from an older, wiser friend who has lived through love, heartbreak, and rebirth. The story is told in the form of a long, intimate letter written by Ramatoulaye Fall, a Senegalese widow, to her best friend, Aissatou Bâ. The letter begins after the death of Ramatoulaye’s husband, Modou Fall, who had betrayed her by taking a second wife, a young girl who used to be their daughter’s friend. The heartbreak of that betrayal was deep, but what is even deeper is the strength with which Ramatoulaye tells her story. Through this story, we witness her personal grief and also the collective struggles of African women's love life, marriage, motherhood, and societal expectations.

Mariama Bâ

Aissatou’s story runs parallel to Ramatoulaye’s, and it’s just as similar and powerful. Her husband, Mawdo Bâ, also took a second wife. For him, he did not do so out of desire, but out of family pressure. Yet Aissatou responded with fierce independence: she walks away. She divorces him, moves abroad, and builds a new life for herself. In her story which mind you, is still part of Ramatoulaye’s letter, there was something very laughable and pitiful in the relationship between Mawdo Bâ and his new wife. According to Ramatoulaye, he claimed he didn't love his new wife but her stomach keeps swelling every season. Aissatou’s courage to choose dignity over conformity made me pause and smile. In her, Mariama Bâ painted the portrait of a woman who redefines what freedom means in a patriarchal society.

Ramatoulaye also recalls the story of Jacqueline, one of her friends whose experience represents the suffering of many women trapped in loveless marriages. Jacqueline was a Christian woman from Côte d’Ivoire who married a Senegalese man, Mabou, and converted to Islam for him. At first, she believed that love could bridge the gap between their different worlds, but over time, her husband’s affection faded. He became cold, dismissive, and cruel. His cruelty was kind of cruelty that doesn’t always come with shouting, but comes with silence and neglect.

Jacqueline began to waste away slowly. Her body began to show the signs of her heartbreak. She discovered a lump in her breast and grew increasingly weak. She went from one clinic to another, meeting doctors who couldn’t find anything physically wrong with her. They prescribed medicines, tonics, and rest, but nothing changed.

It wasn’t until she met a compassionate doctor who looked beyond her symptoms that she finally understood what was happening. The doctor told her that she was suffering from depression, brought on by emotional exhaustion and unhappiness. He gently advised her to take care of herself, to go out more, to reconnect with the things that brought her joy. Only then did she begin to understand that her pain wasn’t a death sentence but it was a warning and a cry for self-love and healing.

That story struck me deeply because it showed how women often internalise pain until it becomes physical. Jacqueline’s story however was just a small part of So Long a Letter, but it carries enormous weight. It reminds us that emotional abuse can be just as damaging as physical harm and that silence, loneliness, and neglect can eat away at the spirit until the body begins to break.

I felt like from that part of the book, Mariama Bâ used Jacqueline’s character to tell women that self love is not selfishness but survival.

Even after knowing all that Jacqueline went through; her depression, loneliness, and the toll a loveless marriage took on her, Ramatoulaye Fall still chose to stay. She understood the danger of emotional neglect, yet she remained with her husband, Modou Fall, even after he abandoned her for a younger woman. She rationalised her decision in many ways: age, motherhood, religion, and the heavy burden of societal expectations. In her heart, she believed no man would ever marry a woman her age. A widow with twelve children and so she clung to what was left of her marriage, even if it was only the title of “wife.” That part of So Long a Letter is one of the most revealing moments about Ramatoulaye’s complexity as a character

What makes this book even more impressive is how naturally it blended into politics and the reality of post-colonial Senegal. You see this clearly in Ramatoulaye Fall’s conversation with Daouda Dieng, the doctor and parliamentarian she once loved but didn’t marry. Looking back, she remembers her grandmother’s words that she should have chosen him instead of Modou Fall who seemed too perfect. Ramatoulaye’s reflections touch on corruption, class divisions, and the low representation of women in public offices and parliament. These issues that, sadly, remain true in much of Africa today. That exchange was one of my favourite parts because it showed how aware and intelligent she was, even in her pain.

Mariama Bâ writes about feminism with elegance and conviction. She shows how women bear the weight of traditions that do not favour them, and how they still manage to carry grace, intelligence, and hope through it all.

I read So Long a Letter in one sitting. I started during the day and, by the time night fell, I could not put it down. I told myself I would rest, but every time I tried to stop, I found myself going back to it. I tossed and turned all night and woke up the next morning exhausted not from reading, but from everything the book made me feel. I felt every ache, every humiliation, disappointment, the tears, the lonliness, everything. It was very intense and heavy. It honestly felt like the writer reached straight into the heart of womanhood and poured it all out on paper. It was just so raw.

What broke me the most was Ramatoulaye’s strength. Maybe that was why i couldn't sleep. Her strengh is that kind of tired strength women summon when the world gives them no other option. That was what kept me awake.

Also, i loved Mariama Bâ’s writing style. It’s simple but deeply poetic and really made me feel good about my own writing style as well. The way she repeats names and phrases feels almost like a rhythm. Her voice is calm and very powerful, intimate and dignified. Because the whole story is written as a letter, it feels personal, like listening to a friend pour out her heart. I could honestly feel Ramatoulaye Fall’s exhaustion, small victories, and the pain of betrayal.

Mariama Bâ is a strong female voice and an amazing writer in every sense. Read this book if you want a book that will make you feel and think in equal measure. Also, if you are interested in the social politics of marriage and nation in postcolonial Africa, you should probably read this book. I believe every woman should read this one at least once and we should also form the habit of gifting women with books written for and by women. They carry a lot of wisdom. I recommend this book a hundred per cent.