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275 pages, Mass Market Paperback
First published January 1, 2012
Daunt Books Publishing is an independent publisher based in London. Founded in 2010, we grew out of Daunt Books, an independent chain of bookshops in London and the South-East. We publish the finest and most exciting new writing in English and in translation, whether that’s literary fiction – novels and short stories – or narrative non-fiction including essays and memoir. We also publish modern classics, reviving authors who have been overlooked and publishing them in bold editions with introductions from the best contemporary writers.
In 2020 we launched Daunt Books Originals, an imprint for bold and inventive new writing in English and in translation.
In 1973, when I was seventeen, Tutsi ‘intellectuals’, civil servants and students were expelled from their institutions. I had to go into exile and take refuge across the border in Burundi. At the time, I was only familiar with my village in Nyamata, my high school, Notre-Dame de Cîteaux in Kigali, and the social-work school in Butare. My memories of Notre-Dame de Cîteaux, which was supposed to train the country’s female elite, were the starting point for Our Lady of the Nile.
I wanted to take advantage of this new genre to rid myself of the poison that had ruined my adolescence, by inventing characters to whom I could lend some of my story. But I transposed them to an imaginary school, a microcosm of Rwanda in the 1960s and 1970s, when the country instituted a regime of ethnic apartheid and extended a Belgian colonial system that entrusted education exclusively to Catholic missionaries. (Belgium ruled the former German colony of Ruanda-Urundi under a 1922 mandate from the League of Nations.) This mass Christianisation profoundly uprooted Rwandan culture, causing the demonisation of ancient beliefs and the ostracisation of their guardians as sorcerers.
This is what I wanted to describe through the conflicts, hopes, illusions and despairs of the young girls in my novel, sequestered in their high school at an altitude of 2,500 metres during the rainy season that corresponds to a school year. I had no idea that I was obeying the old rules of seventeenth-century French tragedy – unity of place, unity of time.
Now I'm certain there's a monster lurking inside every human being. I don't know who awoke him in Rwanda.

"The rain tells me she’s leaving, making way for the dusty season, as she should. She also tells me that down there, in Rwanda, the season of men has changed. But she tells me, too, not to trust it: those who believe in quiet times, the lightning will catch them. They’ll be struck, and they’ll perish."