This is one of the great African novels. As a novel, I do not think it is great. As a document, it is great.

Undeniably, there are great parts in it. The legendary character of Wangrin is interesting, complex, historically and politically relevant, and entertaining. Wangrin is an educated Nigerian man of endless intelligence and cunning, employed as translator for the colonial French. His ambition for fame and wealth knows no limits, but neither do his abilities.

What impressed me the most in the book is the complexity of Wangrin’s relations to his environment: he tricks and exploits the local people (“his people”) as much as he exploits the “white” people, but he does it all for a good cause, and in a way that most people turn out satisfied. Except for Count de Villermoz who ends up in court because of Wangrin’s machinations, all the “whites” are satisfied with Wangrin’s service, although he is the one making administrative decisions for them and secures various benefits for himself. The “blacks” are enchanted by him because he is the protector and benefactor of many, especially the weaker ones, poor ones, women and the sick. On the other hand, the “blacks” that become his enemies and that he restlessly cheats on, are the ones that are morally corrupt. In this sense, his actions, almost always illegal and devious, can be seen as morally just. As many great men before and after him, he ends up drinking himself to death, undeniably a worthy way of ending one’s work on earth.

More than anything else it is a book on early colonialism. It is a mature and realistic work, in that it presents Wangrin, a caricature of a man caught in this tumultuous times, as someone who finds ways and tricks to deal with both, the colonial French, and the local population. The time of colonialism is not presented as a great disaster that descended upon the Nigerian people. In this book it is merely a given historical occurrence that people had to deal with. This is for me the best aspect of the book. In doing this, Bâ makes a much stronger point, a much more believable one, on the problems of colonialism. The problem is not that the French were ruthless slavemasters who whipped their subordinates, the major problem was that they were regular people who ruled these vast areas of Africa with certain ideas (that were not bad, perhaps), but that they were ill-informed, under-educated, with limited knowledge of local customs and languages, and that in general thet were unable to have an productive impact on the lands. This is why over the decades the relationship between the colonialists and the colonized was an increasingly complex one, a love-hate condition that was marked by lack of understanding and insufficient communication.

The above is what I gathered from the book, and the book only, I wish to make no pretense at knowing anything about Africa or colonialism.

A short note to the style and writing: It is old-fashioned, and I mean this in a negative way. The language is rich, but the way the plot develops reminded me of two books: Voltaire’s Candide and de Sade’s Justine. The comparison with de Sade is entirely inappropriate, I know, but this is purely talking style here. Similarly, Candide and de Sade’s heroine go from one adventure into another, without a real meaning or motive (ok, de Sade’s heroines might have had certain motives…) or purpose, the only purpose of their adventures being that it enables the writer to make a certain point. Adventures in Justine are somewhat different to those in Wangrin, though, it needs to be stated.  This is not real writing, not in this (or last) century – not in my opinion at least. Anyway, as I understood from Mr. Bâ’s biography, he was primarily an ethnologist , and secondarily a writer.

All in all: a great work, indispensable for students of Africa and dispensable for students of style.

Voyage Dogon, originally uploaded by Benoît Rivard.

“La gravir jusqu’au sommet ne se fait pas sans peine; mais là, comme pour nous récompenser de tous nos efforts, un tableau grandiose et sauvage s’offre à notre vue. Alors que, sur son versant nord, la colline s’élève plus ou moins progressivement, ici, côté sud, elle s’interrompt abruptement, comme taillée par un gigantesque et grossier coup de hache, et tombe en un à-pic de plus de cent mètres de hauteur. Cette véritable muraille de pierres domine une plaine sablonneuse vaste comme un océan, parsemée de loin en loin par arbres dont les dômes arrondis ressemblent, vus d’en haut, à des îles vertes servies dans l’immensité des sables jaunes.”

- Extrait de “Oui mon commandant!” par Amadou Hampâté Bâ