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Abessinialaiset kronikat
In his hugely impressive Abyssinian Chronicles Moses Isegawa renders the chaotic swirl of life in Uganda, from a lazy, remote village to the urban rush of Kampala. Containing within its 460 pages weddings, funerals, infidelities, public struggles with corrupt dictatorships (a section called "Amin, the Godfather"), and private struggles with God ("Seminary Years"), this is a first novel of epic ambitions. Narrated by Mugezi, the son of a man named Serenity and a woman named Padlock, Isegawa's book is wild and decentered, moving swiftly and confidently from place to place, from character to character. It is the kind of book that says, just follow, trust me, all these names and passions will sort themselves out and make sense sooner or later.
The prose itself bristles and cooks, with graceful transitions ("This time a year passed without hearing any news from Tiida") and scenes lurching with activity. Isegawa, who was born in Uganda but now lives in the Netherlands, is a master of unexpected verbs and details. Here Mugezi describes his mother's voice:
This woman knew how to irritate me on all fronts: her pathetic country-western girlie whine, xeroxed from a white nun from her convent days, the same nun from whom she had inherited the little tremolos which she sprinkled piously on the last hymn every night, really got to me.Inconsistencies in the narrator's point of view can mar this novel and arrest its progress. The narrator will suddenly describe interior states he couldn't possibly know about: his mother's depression and loneliness, which she hides from everyone, the deepest thoughts of distant relatives. But for readers hoping to glimpse a foreign world, these bumps in the road are worth the ride. --Ellen Williams
493 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 1998
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About the author
Moses Isegawa
14 books21 followersMoses Isegawa, also known as Sey Wava (born 10 August 1963), is a Ugandan author. He has written novels set against the political turmoil of Uganda, which he left in 1990 for the Netherlands. His debut novel, Abyssinian Chronicles, was first published in Amsterdam in 1998, selling more than 100,000 copies and gaining him widespread national attention. It was also very well reviewed when published in English in the United Kingdom and United States, in 2001. Isegawa became a naturalized Dutch citizen, but he returned to live in Uganda in 2006.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 82 reviews
March 24, 2009
I’ve just finished Abyssinian Chronicles. Which is a bit of a relief, because I found it quite hard work. The good stuff first: it’s a story that traces a couple of generations through the history of modern Uganda, with the arrival of Idi Amin and the collapse of his regime, the sequence of messy guerilla wars, the rise of AIDS and so on. The central character is initially brought up in a village before moving to Kampala, is from a Catholic background and is educated in a rather brutal seminary; his grandmother is a midwife; he ends up leaving Uganda to move to Holland. So there’s lots of good material. And lots of striking incidents and some strong (though not generally very likeable) characters.
Despite which, after reading a hundred pages, I checked to see how long the book was and had a sinking feeling when I saw there were still 400 pages to go.
The problem is the prose style. Quite apart from a tendency to cliché, it seems like Isegawa reacts to similes the way a small child reacts to candy. Everything is like something. These similes are sometimes quite good in themselves — he describes a priest at the seminary as having ‘an ego as large as a cirrhotic liver’ — but I found the overall effect distracting. And it’s part of a generally over-written, shouty kind of tone the book has which I just didn’t get on with; sometimes I’d get into it and be quite absorbed for twenty or thirty pages, and then some turn of phrase would snap me out of it again.
I did wonder whether it was a problem with the translation; but as far as I can tell from the title page, the book was written in English. I guess English must be the author’s second language, which is pretty impressive, but doesn’t alter the fact that I didn’t enjoy his prose.
Here’s an example of the kind of paragraph that would annoy me:
200 pages of this stuff would have been harmless enough, and I might have said that, despite a few flaws, it was still well worth reading; 500 pages was too much.
But I stuck it out to the end. Partially from stubbornness but mainly because I bought Abyssinian Chronicles as my book from Uganda for the Read The World challenge.
Despite which, after reading a hundred pages, I checked to see how long the book was and had a sinking feeling when I saw there were still 400 pages to go.
The problem is the prose style. Quite apart from a tendency to cliché, it seems like Isegawa reacts to similes the way a small child reacts to candy. Everything is like something. These similes are sometimes quite good in themselves — he describes a priest at the seminary as having ‘an ego as large as a cirrhotic liver’ — but I found the overall effect distracting. And it’s part of a generally over-written, shouty kind of tone the book has which I just didn’t get on with; sometimes I’d get into it and be quite absorbed for twenty or thirty pages, and then some turn of phrase would snap me out of it again.
I did wonder whether it was a problem with the translation; but as far as I can tell from the title page, the book was written in English. I guess English must be the author’s second language, which is pretty impressive, but doesn’t alter the fact that I didn’t enjoy his prose.
Here’s an example of the kind of paragraph that would annoy me:
It struck him like a bolt of lightning splitting a tree down middle: Nakibuka! Had the woman not done her best to interest him in her life? Didn’t he, in his heart of hearts, desire her? Had he ever forgotten her sunny disposition, her sense of humor, the confident way she luxuriated in her femininity? The shaky roots of traditional decorum halted him with the warning that it was improper to desire his wife’s relative, but the mushroom of his pent-up desire had found a weak spot in the layers of hypocritical decency and pushed into the turbulent air of truth, risk, personal satisfaction, revenge. His throttled desire and his curbed sex drive could find a second wind, a resurrection or even eternal life in the bosom of the woman who, with her touch, had accessed his past, saved it and redeemed his virility on his wedding night. Sweat cascaded down his back, his heart palpitated and fire built up in his loins.
200 pages of this stuff would have been harmless enough, and I might have said that, despite a few flaws, it was still well worth reading; 500 pages was too much.
But I stuck it out to the end. Partially from stubbornness but mainly because I bought Abyssinian Chronicles as my book from Uganda for the Read The World challenge.
April 7, 2021
I am so glad I have finally read this book! I tried it once before, when we were living in Uganda, maybe in 2004. What put me off then, I still found a bit challenging: the slightly overblown style of the prose and especially the frequent references to the full range of bodily functions as a way of showing people's states of mind. However, this time I managed to go with the flow, and actually really enjoyed the book. It is surely autobiographical to some extent - with the narrator, Mugezi, describing his parents' and then his own childhood and life experiences through the times of the Amin regime, the chaos that followed with Obote II, and the devastating arrival of AIDS. In the last section Mugezi travels to Europe: the reflections there on his awful brush with the aid industry and the racism he encountered were very well written and powerful.
To be honest I didn't feel as though I understood the history of the 1970s and 80s much better having read it, as the events were in reality confusing: who were the guerrillas and who were the national or government forces did switch around, and the prose doesn't always make it clear. But I felt as though I was seeing those events through the eyes of someone experiencing them: the confusion, fear, disappointments and ambiguities felt real.
The descriptions of places I knew were brilliant: Owino Market, the Taxi Park, the two great cathedrals in Kampala (Catholic and Anglican), Mulago, Kololo. We drove through the Luweero Triangle many times, and knew of the horrors that took place there, but reading this brought it home to me powerfully. Reading this book felt rather like experiencing Uganda all over again.
To be honest I didn't feel as though I understood the history of the 1970s and 80s much better having read it, as the events were in reality confusing: who were the guerrillas and who were the national or government forces did switch around, and the prose doesn't always make it clear. But I felt as though I was seeing those events through the eyes of someone experiencing them: the confusion, fear, disappointments and ambiguities felt real.
The descriptions of places I knew were brilliant: Owino Market, the Taxi Park, the two great cathedrals in Kampala (Catholic and Anglican), Mulago, Kololo. We drove through the Luweero Triangle many times, and knew of the horrors that took place there, but reading this brought it home to me powerfully. Reading this book felt rather like experiencing Uganda all over again.
March 15, 2018
-Otras realidades a las que solemos llegar desde visiones de segunda mano.-
Género. Novela.
Lo que nos cuenta. El libro Crónicas absinias (publicación original: Abessijnse kronieken, 1998) ofrece los recuerdos, pero también la reconstrucción de momentos que no vivió porque sucedieron antes de que naciese, de Mugesi, un ugandés nacido en un periodo de grandes cambios políticos en su nación y que marcarán sus vivencias que, a la postre, terminarán por llevarlo muy lejos de su Uganda natal.
¿Quiere saber más de este libro, sin spoilers? Visite:
https://librosdeolethros.blogspot.com...
Género. Novela.
Lo que nos cuenta. El libro Crónicas absinias (publicación original: Abessijnse kronieken, 1998) ofrece los recuerdos, pero también la reconstrucción de momentos que no vivió porque sucedieron antes de que naciese, de Mugesi, un ugandés nacido en un periodo de grandes cambios políticos en su nación y que marcarán sus vivencias que, a la postre, terminarán por llevarlo muy lejos de su Uganda natal.
¿Quiere saber más de este libro, sin spoilers? Visite:
https://librosdeolethros.blogspot.com...
June 3, 2019
I would like to start off by saying that my feelings about this book are rather mixed.
It is the story of Mugezi, born in Uganda and growing up in and around Kampala during its most turbulent times. We accompany Mugezi through war, disease and dictatorship. On the whole, it's an interesting topic, but unfortunately, I found that the characterization and the style took away from the story rather than add to it.
It's a 500 page book that could easily have said the same in half the time. Simply put, the book is overwritten. It feels as if the author discovered writing, got to work and never reviewed or reworked a single sentence. The pages burst with similes, obscure metaphors, and prophetic dreams. Sometimes I felt as if Isegawa was building sentences without care to how they fit into the work- he was simply so enchanted by the idea of longer, more complicated, stranger, that he didn't pause to think about how the story should progress. It's not a bad book, by all means. But it would benefit from some pruning and simplification. It's a hard book to get into, because whenever you slip into the story, some strange or downright grotesque turn of phrase breaks your focus. An interesting read- but only for 100 pages.
Speaking of the strange and downright grotesque, another thing Isegawa loves, something that stands in complete juxtaposition to his usual prose, is crudity. Especially later on, every time you think you've learned to live with the overcomplicated prose, his frequent usage of "fuck", "cunt" or other crude language throw you off. I can (sometimes) enjoy crude language in writing, especially when it is used fittingly, as it is here- these are men in a war, speaking as soldiers do- but Isegawa overuses them.
My last point of criticism is the rampant misogyny, especially later on. I understand that he is trying to be 'gritty' and 'realistic' and that in those times of unrest, violence and rape were far too common. These are topics that can be approached with more tact. The way all women Mugezi interacts with are described leaves me feeling sorry for every woman who was in contact with him. The way that every woman down to his aunt were described in terms of fuckability made it hard to like the protagonist. I did not read it expecting a feminist book- but I can do without half-page descriptions of how tight or loose a sexual partners vagina is. The further the book progresses, the less the women are given character, and most end as simply a mirror or crutch for Mugezi.
To end on a positive note, the topic really is interesting, and as a native Ugandan who lived through these times, Isegawa of course knows his stuff. The characters are interesting and the prose does have its moments. If this book had only been about 300 pages shorter, I think I could have given it a much higher rating.
It is the story of Mugezi, born in Uganda and growing up in and around Kampala during its most turbulent times. We accompany Mugezi through war, disease and dictatorship. On the whole, it's an interesting topic, but unfortunately, I found that the characterization and the style took away from the story rather than add to it.
It's a 500 page book that could easily have said the same in half the time. Simply put, the book is overwritten. It feels as if the author discovered writing, got to work and never reviewed or reworked a single sentence. The pages burst with similes, obscure metaphors, and prophetic dreams. Sometimes I felt as if Isegawa was building sentences without care to how they fit into the work- he was simply so enchanted by the idea of longer, more complicated, stranger, that he didn't pause to think about how the story should progress. It's not a bad book, by all means. But it would benefit from some pruning and simplification. It's a hard book to get into, because whenever you slip into the story, some strange or downright grotesque turn of phrase breaks your focus. An interesting read- but only for 100 pages.
Speaking of the strange and downright grotesque, another thing Isegawa loves, something that stands in complete juxtaposition to his usual prose, is crudity. Especially later on, every time you think you've learned to live with the overcomplicated prose, his frequent usage of "fuck", "cunt" or other crude language throw you off. I can (sometimes) enjoy crude language in writing, especially when it is used fittingly, as it is here- these are men in a war, speaking as soldiers do- but Isegawa overuses them.
My last point of criticism is the rampant misogyny, especially later on. I understand that he is trying to be 'gritty' and 'realistic' and that in those times of unrest, violence and rape were far too common. These are topics that can be approached with more tact. The way all women Mugezi interacts with are described leaves me feeling sorry for every woman who was in contact with him. The way that every woman down to his aunt were described in terms of fuckability made it hard to like the protagonist. I did not read it expecting a feminist book- but I can do without half-page descriptions of how tight or loose a sexual partners vagina is. The further the book progresses, the less the women are given character, and most end as simply a mirror or crutch for Mugezi.
To end on a positive note, the topic really is interesting, and as a native Ugandan who lived through these times, Isegawa of course knows his stuff. The characters are interesting and the prose does have its moments. If this book had only been about 300 pages shorter, I think I could have given it a much higher rating.
September 18, 2007
In Moses Isegawa's riveting first novel, the writing is big, but the story is even bigger. It is a coming of age chronicle of post-colonial Ugandan history, as told by the narrator, who is also coming of age, Mugezi. Isegawa candidly touches on many subjects: Obote, Idi Amin, civil wars, corruption, rapes, religion, party politics, the AIDS epidemic, culture, tradition, morals, and community folklore. While much of the novel contains serious subject matter, humorous sections are abundant, and I found myself laughing out loud periodically. Early on, the author spectacularly foreshadows the deaths of two main characters, and clear parallels are drawn between the dictators of the era and the culture of the home. The text is ornate and difficult at times, but it reads like a classic. I picked out this novel, since I have traveled to Uganda, and after having read it, Isegawa is now on my list of favorite authors.
July 19, 2020
"Tomamos el autobús a Luwero, a unos cuarenta kilómetros de Kampala. A diez kilómetros comenzamos a ver, a los costados de la carretera,tenderetes que exponían hileras ordenadas de calaveras, y detrás, montones de tibias, fémures y demás. Las calaveras ya no tenían mandíbulas, muchas de ellas presentaban agujeros hechos por balas o machetes. Lavadas por la lluvia y pulidas por el sol, semejaban juguetes destinados a algún ritual macabro. Pero, ante el telón de fondo de los fantasmales edificios que habían sido profanados, en los que apenas se detectaban signos de vida, asomaban caras que miraban con curiosidad a los pasajeros del autobús; no resultaba nada agradable."La vida de un hombre que vivió el infierno y pudo volver para contarlo. Crónicas Abisinias narra la historia de Mugesi, y al mismo tiempo es la historia de Uganda. Comienza con Mugesi niño en su aldea con viviendo con sus abuelos. Aquí nos narra las costumbres de la aldea. Uganda recién se independiza de la corona británica y el dictador Amín se hace al poder destronando al anterior Oboto. Luego del asesinato de su abuela Mugesi es llevado por sus padres a la ciudad de Kampala donde vive con éstos y sus hermanos. Muy dura la relación con su madre, la cual lo trata como sirviente y le brinda fuertes castigos. En su adolescencia es internado en un seminario contra su voluntad donde hace todo lo posible para ser echado, lo cual logra. Sale del seminario y el país está inmerso en una ola de violencia fatal. La guerrilla actúa para destronar a Amín. Se suceden innumerables atentados asesinatos y vejaciones. El país completo está inmerso en una violenta guerra. Logran destronar a Amin y vuelve el anterior dictador, lo cual hace la vida imposible. La guerrilla inunda las calles destrozando todo a su alrededor. Su tía es violada por seis extremistas, su abuelo es asesinado al invadir la aldea. La epidemia del Sida se hace presente matando gran cantidad de personas, entre estos dos de sus tíos. Mientras tanto Mugesi empieza a elaborar el plan para escapar de ese país. Logra huir y ancla en Amsterdam. Ahora otro desafío, otra selva. Un libro que te deja sin aliento. Me hizo investigar sobre la historia de Uganda. Por momentos tuve que dejar, era demasiado duro lo que describía. Aún así creo que vale la pena meterse en la historia de Mugesi, un sobreviviente.
May 8, 2016
I would listen to Mugezi, the narrator of the Abyssinian Chronicles, over and over like the sound in my head when I'm at peace and in turmoil.
The story begins in Uganda and ends in Amsterdam- but it is not about the geographical locations, it is about the events and experiences that shape Mugezi's life. The choices he makes, the women in his life and how religion, war, corruption influence his quest for both identity and belonging.
The book is not one to be read at a sitting and it takes time to read through the experiences and adventures he has a child and also while at the seminary. I was taken by the women in this book, who stand firm and refuse to be judged by the men regarding their actions, like Aunt Lwandeka. There is also Serenity's wife, Padlock, who sticks to her reign of fear on her children through discipline and punishment and runs her household as she pleases. There were times when I was tempted to strike her off the story for being so ruthless, but I could not. Others like her aunt, Nakibuka is yielding and takes her time to charm Padlock's husband, Serenity-and it is these depictions of such conviction in the women that I came to admire. (I could definitely learn a thing or two about writing such characters)
I would travel with Mugezi again on his journey.
The story begins in Uganda and ends in Amsterdam- but it is not about the geographical locations, it is about the events and experiences that shape Mugezi's life. The choices he makes, the women in his life and how religion, war, corruption influence his quest for both identity and belonging.
The book is not one to be read at a sitting and it takes time to read through the experiences and adventures he has a child and also while at the seminary. I was taken by the women in this book, who stand firm and refuse to be judged by the men regarding their actions, like Aunt Lwandeka. There is also Serenity's wife, Padlock, who sticks to her reign of fear on her children through discipline and punishment and runs her household as she pleases. There were times when I was tempted to strike her off the story for being so ruthless, but I could not. Others like her aunt, Nakibuka is yielding and takes her time to charm Padlock's husband, Serenity-and it is these depictions of such conviction in the women that I came to admire. (I could definitely learn a thing or two about writing such characters)
I would travel with Mugezi again on his journey.
March 6, 2014
Opening sentence - Three final images flashed across Serenity's mind as he disappeared into the jaws of the colossal crocodile: a rotting buffalo with rivers of maggots and armies of flies emanating from its cavities; the aunt of his missing wife, who was also his longtime lover; and the mysterious woman who had cured his childhood obsession with tall women.
There is no reference as to whom the translator might be, neither is there a dedication.
halfway mark and I must remark on a few thoughts so far:
- more holes than a pack of polo mints
- over familiarity towards the reader and that as we know fuels contempt
- I have a problem with the title as the story relates to Uganda *shrugs*
The End and thank goodness. Not so bad that I could have fun flaying its hide however it was a long drag for little return.
There is no reference as to whom the translator might be, neither is there a dedication.
halfway mark and I must remark on a few thoughts so far:
- more holes than a pack of polo mints
- over familiarity towards the reader and that as we know fuels contempt
- I have a problem with the title as the story relates to Uganda *shrugs*
The End and thank goodness. Not so bad that I could have fun flaying its hide however it was a long drag for little return.
June 5, 2007
This was billed as the Great Ugandan Novel and reviewers kept comparing Isegawa to Rushdie and Marquez. Not so, my friends. There are enough technical issues with the writing that it took me fifty pages in to really figure out who was who, and another hundred to give a shit at all. I mean, it may still be the Great Ugandan Novel - and it certainly shares the national family epic genre with Rushdie and Marquez - but so far it's more of a mildly scatological Bildungsroman. Still interesting - but not what I had hoped for at all. Bit of a slog, frankly.
January 6, 2022
Hieman epätasainen, mutta jotenkin mukaansatempaava kirja ugandalaisesta Mugezista ja hänen suvustaan. Välillä minäkertoja on äänessä ja välillä tapahtumia seurataan muiden henkilöiden silmin. Ugandan levottomat olot ja joka puolella kohdattu väkivalta ovat melko synkkä tausta, eikä päähenkilö ei ole mikään pyhimys, vaan selviytyjä, jonka on turvauduttava monenlaisiin arveluttaviin keinoihin selvitäkseen.
August 23, 2018
Epic novel with lots of characters, which can be confusing at the beginning. I was confused. Who is the main character and how does he know so much about other characters if he hadn't even been born yet? Learned a lot about the period of rule for Idi Amin & Obate, the 1970s & 80s, of Indians & Europeans in Uganda, as well as a critique of religion (Protestantism and Catholicism vie with Islam), especially as related to colonialism. Then AIDS.
At times, the author tried to tell Mugezi's story as a parallel to Uganda's history. But this wasn't consistent. Every now and then, Moses Isegawa shows his talent as a writer in beautiful lines. But this isn't consistent, either. Took me a LONG time to finish. The book, at times, became to gritty and sour for me, shockingly blunt and raw. His family life was a hellish dystopia, and at times the author could be accused of misogynistic portrayals of women, especially at the end of the book.
At times, the author tried to tell Mugezi's story as a parallel to Uganda's history. But this wasn't consistent. Every now and then, Moses Isegawa shows his talent as a writer in beautiful lines. But this isn't consistent, either. Took me a LONG time to finish. The book, at times, became to gritty and sour for me, shockingly blunt and raw. His family life was a hellish dystopia, and at times the author could be accused of misogynistic portrayals of women, especially at the end of the book.
December 31, 2018
This book by a Ugandan author needed a good editor. It's almost two or three different books, one outstanding, the other, not. Mugezi grew up as a child unwanted by his mother and ignored by his father, who leave him with his grandfather and aunt when they move to Kampala. We follow him through his childhood, adolescence and adulthood, as we follow the civil unrest and wars in Uganda. And the destruction of the AIDS epidemic. Not much joy in this largely well written novel.
March 30, 2013
Couldn't finish this. I read it on a trip to Uganda but it just didn't make sense. The story and characters just didn't hold my interest. I made it halfway and just couldn't work up any interest to finish.
September 2, 2025
#Binge Reviewing my previous Reads #African Literature
It was 2013, and my days were steeped in the immersive whirlpool of African literature, three solid years of reading, annotating, and dreaming of a translation project that would do justice to its vast landscapes of imagination.
Among the many titles that passed through my hands, Abyssinian Chronicles by Moses Isegawa struck me as something of a paradox: sprawling yet intimate, chaotic yet precise, cynical yet tender. Published in 1998, it felt like a twenty-first-century epic of Uganda, but one that refused to wear the heroic garb of conventional storytelling. If Achebe and Ngũgĩ sculpted the novel into a vessel of cultural resistance, and if Ben Okri wove the ethereal dreamscape of myth, Isegawa embraced a postmodern exuberance—delirious, bawdy, unapologetically messy—that mirrored the turbulence of Uganda’s recent history.
The novel follows Mugezi, a young boy growing up in postcolonial Uganda, through his tangled journey of family strife, political upheaval, and existential bewilderment. But calling it a mere Bildungsroman is misleading. Abyssinian Chronicles is less about the arc of growth and more about the bewildering detours, dead ends, and restarts that define a life shaped by dictatorship and disillusionment. If Achebe’s Things Fall Apart dramatised the trauma of colonial incursion with tragic gravitas and if Ngũgĩ’s Petals of Blood excavated the betrayal of independence with searing anger, Isegawa delivers a panoramic satire. He is as merciless with his characters as he is with his country’s history, peeling back layers of hypocrisy in the family, the Church, the army, and the state.
The prose itself feels like a storm unleashed. Dense paragraphs tumble forward with an energy that recalls Salman Rushdie’s Midnight’s Children, yet with an African cadence rooted in oral storytelling. Scenes of domestic squabbles are juxtaposed with grotesque political violence, creating a rhythm that oscillates between the absurd and the tragic. In this sense, it shares kinship with Armah’s The Beautyful Ones Are Not Yet Born, another novel drenched in disillusionment, but where Armah opted for taut, spare prose and nauseating symbolism, Isegawa opts for excess. His novel sprawls across nearly 500 pages, a verbal onslaught mirroring the chaotic lives it seeks to capture.
Reading it alongside Sembène’s God’s Bits of Wood or Bâ’s So Long a Letter makes the differences even starker. Those earlier works are disciplined, even classical in their sense of structure. Isegawa, by contrast, revels in unruliness. He does not guide the reader with a steady hand; he dares you to plunge into the maelstrom and make sense of it yourself. There is no catharsis here, no moral closure. Instead, what one finds is a chronicling of disarray, where the personal and the political bleed into each other until boundaries dissolve.
And yet, despite its harshness, there is also a strange tenderness running beneath. The depiction of Mugezi’s yearning for freedom, for love, for an escape from suffocating systems, resonates universally. It is here that Abyssinian Chronicles connects with Dangarembga’s Nervous Conditions, which also charts a young protagonist’s struggle against oppressive structures—though Dangarembga’s prose is quiet, precise, and feminist in orientation, while Isegawa’s is loud, sprawling, and indiscriminately critical.
By the end, I found myself both exhausted and exhilarated. The novel doesn’t aspire to beauty in the conventional sense; it aspires to truth, or at least to the unruly approximation of it. Reading it in the midst of my African literature deep dive, I realised how vast and varied the continent’s literary voices truly are. From Achebe’s clear moral compass to Okri’s dreamscapes, from Bâ’s epistolary elegance to Isegawa’s volcanic satire—each writer expands the cartography of African storytelling.
Abyssinian Chronicles is not the easiest novel to love, but it is impossible to forget. It resists neat interpretation, much like the Uganda it portrays. And perhaps that is its greatest triumph: it reminds us that literature, like life, is not always coherent, but it is always urgent.
It was 2013, and my days were steeped in the immersive whirlpool of African literature, three solid years of reading, annotating, and dreaming of a translation project that would do justice to its vast landscapes of imagination.
Among the many titles that passed through my hands, Abyssinian Chronicles by Moses Isegawa struck me as something of a paradox: sprawling yet intimate, chaotic yet precise, cynical yet tender. Published in 1998, it felt like a twenty-first-century epic of Uganda, but one that refused to wear the heroic garb of conventional storytelling. If Achebe and Ngũgĩ sculpted the novel into a vessel of cultural resistance, and if Ben Okri wove the ethereal dreamscape of myth, Isegawa embraced a postmodern exuberance—delirious, bawdy, unapologetically messy—that mirrored the turbulence of Uganda’s recent history.
The novel follows Mugezi, a young boy growing up in postcolonial Uganda, through his tangled journey of family strife, political upheaval, and existential bewilderment. But calling it a mere Bildungsroman is misleading. Abyssinian Chronicles is less about the arc of growth and more about the bewildering detours, dead ends, and restarts that define a life shaped by dictatorship and disillusionment. If Achebe’s Things Fall Apart dramatised the trauma of colonial incursion with tragic gravitas and if Ngũgĩ’s Petals of Blood excavated the betrayal of independence with searing anger, Isegawa delivers a panoramic satire. He is as merciless with his characters as he is with his country’s history, peeling back layers of hypocrisy in the family, the Church, the army, and the state.
The prose itself feels like a storm unleashed. Dense paragraphs tumble forward with an energy that recalls Salman Rushdie’s Midnight’s Children, yet with an African cadence rooted in oral storytelling. Scenes of domestic squabbles are juxtaposed with grotesque political violence, creating a rhythm that oscillates between the absurd and the tragic. In this sense, it shares kinship with Armah’s The Beautyful Ones Are Not Yet Born, another novel drenched in disillusionment, but where Armah opted for taut, spare prose and nauseating symbolism, Isegawa opts for excess. His novel sprawls across nearly 500 pages, a verbal onslaught mirroring the chaotic lives it seeks to capture.
Reading it alongside Sembène’s God’s Bits of Wood or Bâ’s So Long a Letter makes the differences even starker. Those earlier works are disciplined, even classical in their sense of structure. Isegawa, by contrast, revels in unruliness. He does not guide the reader with a steady hand; he dares you to plunge into the maelstrom and make sense of it yourself. There is no catharsis here, no moral closure. Instead, what one finds is a chronicling of disarray, where the personal and the political bleed into each other until boundaries dissolve.
And yet, despite its harshness, there is also a strange tenderness running beneath. The depiction of Mugezi’s yearning for freedom, for love, for an escape from suffocating systems, resonates universally. It is here that Abyssinian Chronicles connects with Dangarembga’s Nervous Conditions, which also charts a young protagonist’s struggle against oppressive structures—though Dangarembga’s prose is quiet, precise, and feminist in orientation, while Isegawa’s is loud, sprawling, and indiscriminately critical.
By the end, I found myself both exhausted and exhilarated. The novel doesn’t aspire to beauty in the conventional sense; it aspires to truth, or at least to the unruly approximation of it. Reading it in the midst of my African literature deep dive, I realised how vast and varied the continent’s literary voices truly are. From Achebe’s clear moral compass to Okri’s dreamscapes, from Bâ’s epistolary elegance to Isegawa’s volcanic satire—each writer expands the cartography of African storytelling.
Abyssinian Chronicles is not the easiest novel to love, but it is impossible to forget. It resists neat interpretation, much like the Uganda it portrays. And perhaps that is its greatest triumph: it reminds us that literature, like life, is not always coherent, but it is always urgent.
December 30, 2024
Years ago, I asked Winnie to suggest some novels which would help me understand Africa. I’d read some novels from Nigerian authors, but was disappointed and felt like it would help to ask an African for her advice. Her first suggestion was Abyssinian Chronicles by Moses Isegawa.
I kept notes on her suggestions and I finally found and bought the book at a local used bookstore. I love buying books used.
So I read it and can’t really say too much positive for it. I learned something about Uganda history and culture — although that’s mostly in passing. You won’t get a clear sense of things from this book, which lives through 30 years of history, but doesn’t explain much of the politics.
I learned a bit about the role of religion in Ugandan society as an identifier and hierarchy. That seems to feature pretty prominently.
But that’s most of what I can say positive about the novel, which feels autobiographical. Otherwise, it’s not really written well and I never get much of a feel for most of the leading characters — including the narrator who grows up in the course of the novel observing on his family, especially his parents and close relations. He is treated roughly by his family and then in seminary. He gets a job in post-war reconstruction for the government and makes a small fortune through corruption. And he finds his way to the Netherlands to assist with a charity, but abandons the project immediately to live without a proper visa.
The narrator’s motives, aspirations, morals are never very clear.
The writing is energetic, but quite odd. With unusual — maybe weird — word usage and stylistic choices which don’t really add much to the description for my taste.
So — I can’t recommend it except for folks who have a particular interest in Uganda in this time period, roughly 1960–1990.
ENDS//
I kept notes on her suggestions and I finally found and bought the book at a local used bookstore. I love buying books used.
So I read it and can’t really say too much positive for it. I learned something about Uganda history and culture — although that’s mostly in passing. You won’t get a clear sense of things from this book, which lives through 30 years of history, but doesn’t explain much of the politics.
I learned a bit about the role of religion in Ugandan society as an identifier and hierarchy. That seems to feature pretty prominently.
But that’s most of what I can say positive about the novel, which feels autobiographical. Otherwise, it’s not really written well and I never get much of a feel for most of the leading characters — including the narrator who grows up in the course of the novel observing on his family, especially his parents and close relations. He is treated roughly by his family and then in seminary. He gets a job in post-war reconstruction for the government and makes a small fortune through corruption. And he finds his way to the Netherlands to assist with a charity, but abandons the project immediately to live without a proper visa.
The narrator’s motives, aspirations, morals are never very clear.
The writing is energetic, but quite odd. With unusual — maybe weird — word usage and stylistic choices which don’t really add much to the description for my taste.
So — I can’t recommend it except for folks who have a particular interest in Uganda in this time period, roughly 1960–1990.
ENDS//
August 2, 2025
Ik zou eigenlijk een 2,5 willen geven, maar halve sterren kent de score nou eenmaal niet.
Het boek geeft een mooi inzicht geeft in de complexe wereld van Oeganda in de zeventiger en tachtiger jaren, de tijd van de opkomst van Idi Amin en zijn vertrek gepaard gaande met buitenlandse inmenging en het bijbehorende geweld, het verplichte wegtrekken en weer terugkomen van Aziaten in het land en de aanwezigheid en betekenis van de drie (belangrijkste?) godsdiensten in het land.
Ik ga ervan uit dat voor een groot deel van het boek is geput uit het leven van de schrijver zelf. Wat me daarbij opviel: de plotselinge omslag van Amin als idool naar dictator in de manier waarop de ik-figuur naar hem kijkt. Voelt niet logisch. De bijna ongeloofwaardige beschrijving (karikature) van de moeder van de ik-figuur (en trouwens van de vader ook, maar ik vermoed dat vaders destijds minder betrokken waren bij de opvoeding van de kinderen.) Positief vond ik dat de ik-figuur zichzelf niet positiever neerzette dan hij blijkbaar was. Wat ik onlogisch vond waren de verhalen die niet over hemzelf gingen, maar bijvoorbeeld over zijn familieleden. Soms zijn het dingen die hij beschrijft die hij niet kan weten, soms zijn er verhalen waarbij niemand exact weet wat er gebeurde, de ik-figuur dus ook niet, maar hij wel het hele verhaal van begin tot einde vertelt alsof hij het wel wist. Het zijn misschien mooie verzinsels, maar zo worden ze niet in het verhaal opgenomen. Dat stoorde me, omdat dergelijke onbekende verhalen niet passen in de stijl van het (ik-)boek.
Kortom: er zaten mooie (hoewel soms wel erg lange) verhalen in de roman, maar de verhalen vormen niet een logisch geheel. Het zijn vooral verhalen die niet in een boek met een ik-figuur horen.
Het boek geeft een mooi inzicht geeft in de complexe wereld van Oeganda in de zeventiger en tachtiger jaren, de tijd van de opkomst van Idi Amin en zijn vertrek gepaard gaande met buitenlandse inmenging en het bijbehorende geweld, het verplichte wegtrekken en weer terugkomen van Aziaten in het land en de aanwezigheid en betekenis van de drie (belangrijkste?) godsdiensten in het land.
Ik ga ervan uit dat voor een groot deel van het boek is geput uit het leven van de schrijver zelf. Wat me daarbij opviel: de plotselinge omslag van Amin als idool naar dictator in de manier waarop de ik-figuur naar hem kijkt. Voelt niet logisch. De bijna ongeloofwaardige beschrijving (karikature) van de moeder van de ik-figuur (en trouwens van de vader ook, maar ik vermoed dat vaders destijds minder betrokken waren bij de opvoeding van de kinderen.) Positief vond ik dat de ik-figuur zichzelf niet positiever neerzette dan hij blijkbaar was. Wat ik onlogisch vond waren de verhalen die niet over hemzelf gingen, maar bijvoorbeeld over zijn familieleden. Soms zijn het dingen die hij beschrijft die hij niet kan weten, soms zijn er verhalen waarbij niemand exact weet wat er gebeurde, de ik-figuur dus ook niet, maar hij wel het hele verhaal van begin tot einde vertelt alsof hij het wel wist. Het zijn misschien mooie verzinsels, maar zo worden ze niet in het verhaal opgenomen. Dat stoorde me, omdat dergelijke onbekende verhalen niet passen in de stijl van het (ik-)boek.
Kortom: er zaten mooie (hoewel soms wel erg lange) verhalen in de roman, maar de verhalen vormen niet een logisch geheel. Het zijn vooral verhalen die niet in een boek met een ik-figuur horen.
December 7, 2025
***spoilers***
I had no idea Idi Amin or Obote existed. I had no idea Indians lived in Uganda and owned much of the marketplace until they were forced to leave during Amin’s dictatorship. I thought this book was interesting for the chance to take a peek into Ugandan culture. I had a hard time getting into the story… Maybe because there is so much prose at times that you get lost. Also there are a lot of characters to keep track of, and you get switched between the different characters’ storylines. That being said, I made it past the first two chapters and then the story took on speed. I got the hang of who was who and I found the rawness of the story interesting. There’s a lot of cruelty and lust. Rape. Black magic. Revenge. Favorite part was the premonition of Serenity and Padlock’s demise and then that perfect magic section detailing exactly what the alligator and buffalo would mean to the couple. A bit of misogyny in the reductive fascination with women’s bodies. Maybe there was something to that--a discussion of power and wanting to colonize and own…something that a character like Mugezi would naturally be fascinated by after being raised by his “despotic” parents and seeing the country fall into a dictator’s hands. Who knows. There were lots of locusts nibbling on thoraxes. Interesting choice of prose. A twist when Mugezi is raped and when he finds out his muse is actually his half sister. But not actually that surprising. The end, Mugezi in Amsterdam, trying to find his way. Using women to serve his means, occupy his time. Always an observer, always a manipulator, trying to get by. Interesting.
I had no idea Idi Amin or Obote existed. I had no idea Indians lived in Uganda and owned much of the marketplace until they were forced to leave during Amin’s dictatorship. I thought this book was interesting for the chance to take a peek into Ugandan culture. I had a hard time getting into the story… Maybe because there is so much prose at times that you get lost. Also there are a lot of characters to keep track of, and you get switched between the different characters’ storylines. That being said, I made it past the first two chapters and then the story took on speed. I got the hang of who was who and I found the rawness of the story interesting. There’s a lot of cruelty and lust. Rape. Black magic. Revenge. Favorite part was the premonition of Serenity and Padlock’s demise and then that perfect magic section detailing exactly what the alligator and buffalo would mean to the couple. A bit of misogyny in the reductive fascination with women’s bodies. Maybe there was something to that--a discussion of power and wanting to colonize and own…something that a character like Mugezi would naturally be fascinated by after being raised by his “despotic” parents and seeing the country fall into a dictator’s hands. Who knows. There were lots of locusts nibbling on thoraxes. Interesting choice of prose. A twist when Mugezi is raped and when he finds out his muse is actually his half sister. But not actually that surprising. The end, Mugezi in Amsterdam, trying to find his way. Using women to serve his means, occupy his time. Always an observer, always a manipulator, trying to get by. Interesting.
January 13, 2024
Interessante materie, maar te langdradig beschreven. Het is niet bepaald het meest gemakkelijke boek, vanwege de schrijfstijl. De zinnen zijn gemiddeld zo’n vijf regels lang, waardoor ik vaak de draad kwijt raakte. Er wordt veel informatie zijdelings toegevoegd in de zin. Vaak is dit onnodige informatie of een vergelijking die weinig toegevoegde waarde heeft. Te veel bijvoeglijk naamwoorden en metaforen. Kortom, een beetje overdone naar mijn mening.
Verder had ik het op pagina 50 van de 600 al gehad met alle smerige referenties zoals ‘als een gillende loopse teef’ en ‘een vijver vol zwijnensperma’ die echt absoluut nergens toe dienen. Vunzigheden en vulgaire taal kan een verhaal versterken, maar dat was hier zeker niet het geval.
Als laatste minpunt worden ook de vrouwen in dit boek voornamelijk beschreven op basis van hun lichaam en hoe sexy ofwel moederlijk ze zijn. Ze zijn weinig inhoudelijk en tegen het einde van het boek worden de beschrijvingen alleen maar denigrerender. De hoofdpersoon wordt ook alsmaar arroganter gedurende het boek, met name richting vrouwen. Beetje vermoeiend.
Verder had ik het op pagina 50 van de 600 al gehad met alle smerige referenties zoals ‘als een gillende loopse teef’ en ‘een vijver vol zwijnensperma’ die echt absoluut nergens toe dienen. Vunzigheden en vulgaire taal kan een verhaal versterken, maar dat was hier zeker niet het geval.
Als laatste minpunt worden ook de vrouwen in dit boek voornamelijk beschreven op basis van hun lichaam en hoe sexy ofwel moederlijk ze zijn. Ze zijn weinig inhoudelijk en tegen het einde van het boek worden de beschrijvingen alleen maar denigrerender. De hoofdpersoon wordt ook alsmaar arroganter gedurende het boek, met name richting vrouwen. Beetje vermoeiend.
November 5, 2024
Dat dikke boek in de kast dat je al lang hebt liggen, maar ook niet weg wilt doen, is uit!
Ik twijfel een beetje tussen drie en vier sterren. Het is niet het best geschreven boek dat je zult lezen. Het vertelperspectief is niet helemaal realistisch - de ik-persoon vertelt verhalen over de levens van zijn ouders en andere familieleden alsof hij er zelf bij is geweest, wat niet zo is. Vooral bij de vele familiegeheimen en seksuele ervaringen is het niet bepaald geloofwaardigheid dat hij daar weet van heeft. Een ander minpuntje is dat enkele cruciale gebeurtenissen in zijn leven ontzettend kort beschreven werden, terwijl andere ervaringen heel uitgebreid aan bod kwamen.
Positief aan het boek is dat ik enorm veel geleerd heb over de geschiedenis van Oeganda voor, tijdens en nadat Amin aan de macht was. Ook gaf het boek veel inzicht in familierelaties, machtsverhoudingen en levenskeuzes die totaal anders zijn dan in het Westen. Los van het informatieve, was dit een verhaal waar ik echt makkelijk in kwam. En het fijne was dat ik het boek ook gewoon weg kon leggen en er snel weer in zat. Al met al dus blij dat ik hem gelezen heb!
Ik twijfel een beetje tussen drie en vier sterren. Het is niet het best geschreven boek dat je zult lezen. Het vertelperspectief is niet helemaal realistisch - de ik-persoon vertelt verhalen over de levens van zijn ouders en andere familieleden alsof hij er zelf bij is geweest, wat niet zo is. Vooral bij de vele familiegeheimen en seksuele ervaringen is het niet bepaald geloofwaardigheid dat hij daar weet van heeft. Een ander minpuntje is dat enkele cruciale gebeurtenissen in zijn leven ontzettend kort beschreven werden, terwijl andere ervaringen heel uitgebreid aan bod kwamen.
Positief aan het boek is dat ik enorm veel geleerd heb over de geschiedenis van Oeganda voor, tijdens en nadat Amin aan de macht was. Ook gaf het boek veel inzicht in familierelaties, machtsverhoudingen en levenskeuzes die totaal anders zijn dan in het Westen. Los van het informatieve, was dit een verhaal waar ik echt makkelijk in kwam. En het fijne was dat ik het boek ook gewoon weg kon leggen en er snel weer in zat. Al met al dus blij dat ik hem gelezen heb!
December 7, 2019
I was becoming more convinced that the afterbirth of war was in a ways worse than the actual fighting itself, and that winning the peace was harder than winning the war
The above quote represents one of my key takeaways from this and a lot of the other 'around-the-world' stuff I have read this year. You would think that the good times would come with the end of war, dictatorship etc. but the winning side is often likely to repeat the same offences they were fighting against, taking an eye for an eye. Here, Idi Amin's dictatorship finishes after a protracted guerilla/civil war and the violence and corruption simply continues with new faces. Ordinary people can't help but get caught up in it.
If I focus on the book itself, although it offers an interesting and detailed personal history of Uganda during its most turbulent years, I was never totally drawn in. I think my main issue was with the narrator, Mugezi. None of the events seem to affect him very much and so, as a reader, it was also difficult to feel too invested, despite the subject matter.
The above quote represents one of my key takeaways from this and a lot of the other 'around-the-world' stuff I have read this year. You would think that the good times would come with the end of war, dictatorship etc. but the winning side is often likely to repeat the same offences they were fighting against, taking an eye for an eye. Here, Idi Amin's dictatorship finishes after a protracted guerilla/civil war and the violence and corruption simply continues with new faces. Ordinary people can't help but get caught up in it.
If I focus on the book itself, although it offers an interesting and detailed personal history of Uganda during its most turbulent years, I was never totally drawn in. I think my main issue was with the narrator, Mugezi. None of the events seem to affect him very much and so, as a reader, it was also difficult to feel too invested, despite the subject matter.
June 15, 2020
First published in dutch in 1998 under the title Abessijnse Kronieken, this book soon achieved notoriety, and a number of translations into several European languages, including this Portuguese one, have been printed. Several critics have claimed this novel a landmark in African literature and a book of universal import. Whatever the verdict of time concerning its standing as part of the canon, this is certainly a powerful novel, telling the saga of a Ugandan man (the narrator) and of his family through the last half of the twentieth century. A grand canvas of live in Uganda, but also a mirror of a large part of sub-Saharan Africa: a blunt tale of misery, despair, hope and achievement amid a turbulent childhood, a castrating Catholic education, brutal dictatorships, merciless wars, and the wretch brought about by the AIDS epidemic. Written in a lively style evoking powerful images, one reads quickly and effortlessly through the five hundred plus pages of this absorbing book just to feel sad when it finally ends...
September 17, 2020
I really appreciated how this books was very much driven by the narrators personal life and so many different themes and historical events and cultural commentary were woven in without being overbearing or too convenient or forced. The themes covered are impressively vast and yet cohesively woven together. At times the narrator was not the most heroic character, but the author gave him flaws with a purpose and was able to paint a picture of different dynamics in spite of the narrators own shortcomings. Having said that--the narrator knew far more about other character's lives than was realistically possible given his relationship with them. This was only slightly distracting, but if forgiven, the storytelling is still intriguing.
October 13, 2022
I would like to give this book a higher ranking, but I can't. It was a rather tedious read. I started it in February 2020, put it down for two years before restarting it again in the summer of 2022.
The storyline was very good, but the verbosity put me off. There were often details that were either irrelevant or just time consuming without really adding anything to the situation or story. As other readers have mentioned, it takes way too long to get into the book.
I am happy that I made it to the very end and didn't abandon it a second time. On a positive note it did make me revisit the time of Idi Amin and Uganda in the 1970s and 1980s.
Good luck to anyone who reads this book.
The storyline was very good, but the verbosity put me off. There were often details that were either irrelevant or just time consuming without really adding anything to the situation or story. As other readers have mentioned, it takes way too long to get into the book.
I am happy that I made it to the very end and didn't abandon it a second time. On a positive note it did make me revisit the time of Idi Amin and Uganda in the 1970s and 1980s.
Good luck to anyone who reads this book.
December 23, 2022
' It was during the depths of his suffering that Serenity came up with the only statement he ever made. He said that Uganda was a land of false bottoms where under every abyss there was another one waiting to ensnare people, and that historians had made a mistake: Abyssinian was not the ancient land of Ethiopia, but modern Uganda. Buoyed by intermittent bouts of optimism, he would go over his statement, looking for ways to improve it and make it attractive enough for ambitious politicians to pick up, for he believed that the time had come to change the name of Uganda to Abyssinian.'
—page 440, Abyssinian chronicles.
—page 440, Abyssinian chronicles.
June 16, 2020
Epic is the best word to describe this novel, set primarily in Uganda. It follows Mugezi, a young man, and this extended family, and his adolescence during the 1970s military coup, Amin's rule, and his removal from office. What was so interesting about this book is how they move back and forth in time, helping the uneducated reader (me) understand how Uganda's past dynamics and the beliefs of its people impact Mugezi and his world. Love, violence and war, religion, and money all play prominent roles as he learns to navigate the despots in his home and the despots out in the world. The book was quite thick, so be sure to give yourself time to settle in and really appreciate it.
January 30, 2019
This would have been an amazing novel, if it didn't have a number of shortcomings. It touches a number of thought provoking topics and very interestingly relays the history of the country. However, the writing drags at times and is too superfluous at others. He intrigues and grips the reader, but then drops the ball. Besides, in some parts, the story packed with too many characters lacks the coordination. All in all, with more editing it would have been an amazing read.
June 7, 2022
The story of a family that survived (or didn't) the upheavals in Uganda's history. Despots were everywhere, found in all places - the government, the Catholic Church, the Muslim religion, the witch doctors, the family, and more. How to find your own voice and survive.
The story is well written, semi-autobiographical, but a bit hard to be drawn in.
For a more detailed review, check out my blog site: https://wordpress.com/view/thesource4...
The story is well written, semi-autobiographical, but a bit hard to be drawn in.
For a more detailed review, check out my blog site: https://wordpress.com/view/thesource4...
September 26, 2024
Reviews of this book weren’t as positive as I thought they would be. For me … this was an epic read. Where there is much criticism about the unique rhythm of Isegawa’s metaphorical vernacular, I loved it!
It is a story spanning 2 decades (1970s-80s) and 3 generations, narrated by Mugezi Muwaabi. It is a harrowing and heartbreaking snapshot through Uganda’s war torn land, culture, families and day-to-day life. There are no heros and freedom is a far reach from hope.
The characters are rich, strong and determined, despite having everything thrown, as a weapon, into their homes and hearts. 4.5/5
It is a story spanning 2 decades (1970s-80s) and 3 generations, narrated by Mugezi Muwaabi. It is a harrowing and heartbreaking snapshot through Uganda’s war torn land, culture, families and day-to-day life. There are no heros and freedom is a far reach from hope.
The characters are rich, strong and determined, despite having everything thrown, as a weapon, into their homes and hearts. 4.5/5
September 10, 2018
I really, really enjoyed this book, but it took me weeks to get through it. Not sure why but it dragged a bit for me. Completely my fault and not the books fault, as the writing is great, the characters are relatable, and the story line is interesting, and of a time and place that I don't normally read, but is very interesting, and an area that should have more written about it.
October 15, 2019
This book took a while to get into. The writing is verbose and thick with metaphors. It was worth it. Isegawa has written a bildungsroman with a brilliant, unforgettable voice and a history of Uganda in the second half of the 20th century. If you loved Namwali Serpell's The Old Drift and want to stay in east/central Africa -- this is a good choice!
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