Sister Deborah

by Scholastique Mukasonga, Jan Schönherr (Translator)

Ruanda in den 1930er Während sich in Ostafrika immer mehr Menschen zum Christentum bekennen, verkündet Sister Deborah, eine Missionarin aus den USA, dass der Messias niemand anderes als eine schwarze Frau sein wird. Sister Deborah wird der Hexerei angeklagt und verschwindet auf mysteriöse Weise. Zwei Jahrzehnte später beschließt Ikirezi, eine geniale Akademikerin in Washington, die einst von ihr behandelt wurde, sich auf die Spuren der legendären Prophetin zu begeben. Sie taucht ein in die Vergangenheit, um ihre Geschichte zu erzählen, doch der Zauber von Sister Deborah ist gewaltiger als sie ahnt.

»In Sätzen von größter Schönheit und Bescheidenheit gibt uns Mukasonga eine Million Seelen zurück, die hinter dem Wort "Genozid" zu verschwinden drohten.« Zadie Smith

»Scholastique Mukasonga ist in Frankreich wie auch der anglophonen Welt längst auf große Resonanz gestoßen und für ihr Werk mit vielen Preisen geehrt worden. Es ist höchste Zeit, den erschütternden Geschichten, die sie zu erzählen hat, endlich auch bei uns mehr Aufmerksamkeit zu widmen.« FAZ  

»Mukasonga Scholastique ist die große Erzählerin der Mimikry. Mal mit Humor, mal mit unverstelltem Blick auf Gewalt zeigen ihre Geschichten, wie jene, die anderen ihre Kultur aufzwingen wollten, sich selbst unterwarfen.« Deniz Utlu

Genres: Africa, Rwanda, Fiction, Historical Fiction, Mystery, Novels, Literature

177 pages, Kindle Edition

First published October 6, 2022

About the author

Born in Rwanda in 1956, Scholastique Mukasonga experienced from childhood the violence and humiliation of the ethnic conflicts that shook her country. In 1960, her family was displaced into the under-developed Nyamata. In 1973, she was forced to leave the school of social assistance in Butare and flee to Burundi. She settled in France in 1992. The genocide of the Tutsi swept through Rwanda 2 years later. Mukasonga learned that 27 of her family members had been massacred. Twelve years later, Gallimard published her autobiographical account Inyenzi ou les Cafards, which marked Mukasonga's entry into literature. Her first novel, Notre-Dame du Nil, won the Ahamadou Kourouma prize and the Renaudot prize in 2012.

(from http://www.citylights.com/info/?fa=ev...)

Reviews

[Roman Clodia · Rating 3 out of 5]

This is a short but resonant book that returns to Mukasonga's themes of colonialism, religion and the roles and lives of women.

In a layered narrative, Ikirezi recalls the story of Sister Deborah and the various versions, legends and myths that accrete to it. From her first meeting with the missionary-healer as a young girl through to her recuperation of the tale as an African Studies professor in America, Ikirezi 's own trajectory is bound up with this enigmatic figure who is given different meanings depending on who is telling her story.

There's a fabled and spiritual thrust to the narrative that thinks about how stories are created and in whose power or to whose benefit, with a sense of a feminist wrenching back of the tale by the end.

One of the values of Mukasonga's writing is her way of translating Rwandan or African culture to allow us to participate in a non-western way of viewing the world.

Many thanks to Archipelago for an ARC via Netgalley

[Dax · Rating 3 out of 5]

A short little book in which Mukasonga focuses on themes of religion, feminism, and colonialism. I much appreciated the multi-layered structure of the narrative. The different layers cannot be described in detail without giving away certain aspects of the story so I will abstain from doing so. Though the story is certainly a strange one, it is poignant as well. Mukasonga is a strong storyteller and perhaps an even better prose stylist. High three stars. A book I would never have come across if it were not for the trusted folks at my local indie bookstore.

[John Darnielle · Rating 5 out of 5]

In the strongest terms possible I recommend this book to every lover of stories, of books, of characters, of fiction, of writing. I will read everything I can get my hands on by Scholastique Mukasonga. She is a good as it gets.

[lise.charmel · Rating 3 out of 5]

Questo breve romanzo ambientato durante l'occupazione coloniale belga del Ruanda racconta la storia di una profetessa guaritrice nera americana, Sister Deborah appunto, che sulla base di alcune profezie si ritrova in Ruanda a guarire donne e bambini e a predicare l'avvento del Nuovo Mondo e di un Dio che sarà Donna e Nera. Pian piano le donne cominciano ad avvicinarsi alla profetessa e a diventare sue adepte fino a mettere in pratica una rivoluzione che piace molto poco ai missionari bianchi e che verrà repressa.
Ho letto questo romanzo come una sorta di metafora dell'oppressione del colonialismo sugli abitanti dell'Africa, ma anche sui Neri afroamericani e in particolare sulle donne.
Il messaggio è interessante e veicolato in maniera per me originale, ma la scrittura non mi è sembrata niente di eccezionale.

[Ruben · Rating 3 out of 5]

3,5

Sister Deborah is a black American prophetess and healer, who gathers a following in Rwanda, where her message that God is a black woman who will soon return to Earth and liberate the women of Rwanda finds a willing ear. It is a short novella, but we get the story of Sister Deborah from a number of different perspectives.

It was interesting, also thanks to the setting and time, but I was not as captivated by it as I was by its predecessor 'Kibogo'. The two books share common themes, chiefly the mingling of Christian religion brought by the Belgian padri with existing myths and beliefs.

[Alix · Rating 2 out of 5]

Un testo che si esaurisce un po nelle sue premesse.
La storia risente della troppa brevità ma allo stesso tempo sfianca per le continue ripetizioni.

vorrei recuperare anche "Kigobo" della stessa autrice però! magari sarà più nelle mie corde

[G L · Rating 2 out of 5]

This did not work for me as well as Mukasonga's other books that I have read. I think that is partly because I listened to the audiobook. (Note that GR does not yet have a listing for the audio.) The narrator did a good job, but had a pronounced Chicago accent, which did not fit the background of the character she was voicing. Also, the jumps in the story did not translate well to audio. I mentally checked out about 2/3 of the way through.

[Anita · Rating 5 out of 5]

A young girl is cured by a mysterious preacher-healer woman, and she spends the rest of her life trying to understand who this woman is, and what role is she supposed to fulfill in the world. Sister Deborah is an African-American missionary that doesn't seem to be what we expect from a missionary, starting her own syncretic religious movement, which of course is not seen kindly by the authorities. She becomes, despite not being the leader of their group, a sort of spiritual beacon for the women around her, who she encourages to think and meditate, to the chagrin of the men of the community. Sister Deborah also promises the coming of a new messiah, this time a Black woman who will create a sort of feminist realm. All this time, the narrator, young Ikirezi, follows Sister Deborah's journey, while at the same time emabrking on her own. After losing sight of the woman, Ikirezi finishes her studies and travels to the US, becoming a professor of Anthropology and an expert in African Studies, which also helps bring Sister Deborah's whereabouts to her attention once again.

It's a fascinanting exploration of the ways in which colonialism affected spiritual and religious practices, as well as how African Americans's expectations of people in Africa is also created through a sort of colonialist/idealistic perspective. Mukasonga's prose is clear and
elegant, showing the narrator's growth and her understanding of Sister Deborah's beliefs and position in the world changing through the years. It's a very short novel, but manages to pack so many interesting topics that it will be well worth a second and third readings.


I received a review copy via NetGalley, so thanks to the publishers for allowing me to read this in advance.

[Andy Weston · Rating 4 out of 5]

Set in Rwanda in the 1930s, when it was under Belgian rule, this is the story of one of many Christian missionaries. On a forbidden hillside a temple was built, with the permission of the Rwandan chief, and services celebrated which blended with the established practices of the native population.

Perhaps most surprising was that the singing and dancing which was part of the service was led by a woman, Sister Deborah, who held the rank of prophetess. The priest preached of the coming of a Black messiah, but Deborah insisted it would be a woman. From her perch on a termite mound under a tree she gained a group of devoted female disciples. Women brought their children for her to bless. She cured the sick with a tough of her iron cane.

This wonderful story takes aim at the Belgian colonial powers often in a humorous way, though at the same time exposing the tragedy of their occupation. I have read Mukasonga before, Kibogo, but this is a step up from that, beautifully written, and an absolute pleasure to read.

[Jolanta (knygupė)]

3,5*
Įdomus Ruandos-Prancūzijos rašytojos feministinis romanas. Verta pažinties autorė. Tačiau aš labiau rekomenduoju jos ankstesnį romaną "Kibogo".

[Rachel · Rating 4 out of 5]

3.75. If you’ve read Mukasonga’s work before, picking up her latest will drop you in familiar territory. Mukasonga often explores the effects of Belgian colonization in her home country of Rwanda, the syncretism of the indigenous religions and mythologies with the colonizer’s Catholicism, and the role of women in the changing landscape of 20th century East Africa. Sister Deborah combines all of these and adds another religious sect to the mix: black Protestants from America come to Rwanda to preach the imminent arrival of the Messiah. Except this savior isn’t a white or a brown man, she’s a black woman and she speaks through Sister Deborah.

Also not new to Mukasonga’s work is a shifting perspective, a retelling of the same event from different mouths, where the reader witnesses the story change, grow, or reveal hidden truths depending on the speaker. The same occurs in Sister Deborah, where the story opens with a first person account of young Ikirezi’s encounter and healing at the hands of the prophetess Sister Deborah. Later on, the perspective switches to that of Sister Deborah herself, where we hear the story from her side, confirming her higher powers and conference with spirits. As for her entourage, a reminder is revealed, as more voices and testimonies are added to the mix, that the greed and male hubris of the ecclesiastic are not traits reserved solely for the white man.

Mukasonga has become one of my favorite authors, not because her prose is brilliant or her style formally inventive, but because the stories she tells are so rich, deeply affecting, and bring life and humanity to her ancestors and former countrymen. And it’s not that that’s missing here, but I don’t think it’s quite as effective and compelling as her previous works.

Still recommend, but don’t forget to dig into her backlist.

[Joseph Schreiber · Rating 3 out of 5]

This is the story of a female faith healer, born in the US, who becomes involved with a Black Christian spiritual leader and travels with his troupe to Rwanda where her visions have assured her a major event, a second coming, will occur—one that will bring release and joy to African people, especially women. Set in the 1930s under Belgian colonial rule, Sister Deborah's story unfolds first according to local legend and hearsay, and again as Deborah's own account, all recorded by a woman who was taken to the healer as a young child and goes on to study and report on the related events as an anthropologist. An engaging tale that relies a considerable amount of rumoured and conflicting material, leaving the reader not entirely certain what to believe.
A longer review can be found here: https://roughghosts.com/2024/11/15/wh...

[Daily_debby · Rating 2 out of 5]

Soyons honnêtes, je suis totalement passée à côté de ce livre que je voulais absolument apprécier car mon nom figure dans le titre (oui j'avais pour optique de mettre 5 étoiles juste pour ça, chacun ses faiblesses).

Mais le principal reproche que je fais à Sister Deborah, c'est sa plume chirurgicale.

On a des personnages passionnés et avec un fort caractère. Ils sont tous là pour conquérir le monde, mais à l'arrivée rien n'était fait pour que je m'attache à eux ou que je prenne partie.

J'ai lu ce roman comme je lirai un article de journal 🥲

[Read me two times · Rating 4 out of 5]

Bellissimo, da leggere assolutamente!

[Elaine Sausen · Rating 4 out of 5]

If you want a book that is easy to devour in one bite (it's super short), yet extremely thought provoking, this is one for you.

Reading Mukasonga helps animate a region overpowered by association with genocide. Not that this book was without horrific depictions of violence and despair, though it was more focused on how religion is used as a means to gain power.

A few passages that jumped out of me as I read (SPOILER ALERT):

1) (Pg 74) They meet an old pastor who wears a clergyman's suite and red fez, and speaks broken English, German, and Swahili. He is planted solidly in first person narration, and it seems no admittance cannot be justified. He fights alongside the German colonial army in Rwanda during WWI, then deserts his officer. He flees to S. Africa where he is "saved" by a white pastor who teaches him English and makes him a deacon, but he abandons this man for the first time to frequent the black American temple next door, and for the second and final time once they reached America. He became successful amongst black Chicagoans, selling made up trinkets and the promise of real African witchcraft to get by. Then he ran away to Pittsburgh in shame, or because Jesus sent him there. In fact, yes, Jesus made him pastor alone, and he founded a temple. It seems that no admittance of desertion or deceit can not be justified through religious calling.

2) (Pg 111) In sister Deborah's retelling of the Musoni story she shows her misgivings with faithfulness. "Spirits care little about human schedules... If they answered the calls of men and the hopes of women, there would be no more hope." It is this eternal yearning, this perpetual willful delusion that keeps people wanting something, and easy to control. Makes me feel a little buddhist to say give up hope and it will set you free -- but I do think there is something to this. And it's vividly displayed throughout Sister Deborah.

3) In both Bolokele (pg 114) and the Nairobi shanty town (pg 120), the pastors preached that the promise land was in America. This brings the absurdity of the "promised land" and its use as a weapon of hope to a point, as Sister Deborah came to Rwanda from America in pursuit of the promised land in Africa, and then in Africa, pastors both black and white preach of a promised land in America. I also thought it was brilliant how the pastor in the shantytown in Nairobi preached from a trash mound, bearing resemblance to the termite mound Reverend Marcus settled on in Ragagara's chiefdom.

4) Reverand Ezeikel creates a self-fullfilling prophecy in his prediction of the Apocalypse (pg 120), leading his followers to murder, rape, and burn down the shantytown. Leading up to this, Reverend Ezeikel's promises mount in absurdity until they are the most thinly guised money and power grabs. How would they get to America? On a cloud. No actually they would fly there, their bodies turned to celestial weightless beings. In the promised land, women would be turned to men for their faithfulness. For a few shillings you could buy "eternity insurance" in the form of a visa or a medallion that you had to keep on your person, lest you die and the angels wouldn't know to send your spirit to heaven. It was a perfect ending story to encapsulate the use of religion as a means to gain power.

5) Mama Nganga (Sister Deborah) is killed for being a witch (pg 130). It is unclear the exact details of what transpired before her death, but "What's certain is that they now sell in market stalls carrying indigenous medicines little pouches containing some of Mama Nganga's ash or bone fragments, which will bring you luck or protect you from evil." Exalted, feared, or despised, she will be used in life and in death. This also reminds me of the time I saw a the supposed preserved tongue of St. Anthony in Padua. It was a revered christian relic. And insanely creepy.

6) THE ENDING so good. "I never married, but I did have two children, both girls. The older one is pregnant. They tell me she is having a girl. I'm waiting for She-Who-Is-to-Come." It hammers home the cyclical nature of life, full ofs delusions of a more perfect world to come, the promises of someone, at some point, coming to do something, and bring us to a better somewhere.

[David Martin · Rating 3 out of 5]

I enjoyed reading a novel in French and found many of the novel’s themes intriguing, especially as it dealt creatively and unconventionally with colonization and missionary movements in Eastern Africa. The style is somewhere between magic realism and meta level cultural commentary I guess? Imaginative and poetic, but appeared to me somewhat chaotic with an underdeveloped ending.

[Andre(Read-A-Lot) · Rating 2 out of 5]

The writing here is unremarkable but there is a potential big story here. The writing keeps the short book from fulfilling its promising viability. Sister Deborah is a healer in the African tradition, but of course the European colonizers see her as a witch, a sorceress, a purveyor of evil. The book is an intimate look at the clash of cultures and the disrespect and disregard of indigenous worldviews.

The one thing that takes a direct hit, is the spiritual practices of the indigenous. The recognition of the power of spirit was something that colonizers recognized even in their misunderstanding. Unfortunately, because of the fracturing of society there were instances when the indigenous failed to accept the power of spirit and gave credence and acceptance to foreign religious beliefs and practices.

Sister Deborah has visions and a spirit is speaking through her. And from Sister Deborah we learn of the coming of a messiah on a cloud to save Africans on the continent and in America, and the messiah is a Black woman! That sounds like an expansive canvas on which to build a novel, but for a few reasons this novel falls short of filling that expanse. The themes are not deeply explored and the characters are mostly shallowly drawn. I was hoping it would gear up, but unfortunately it never made the shift, so I settled on 2.5⭐️. Thanks to Netgalley and Archipelago books for an advanced DRC. Book drops Oct. 29, 2024

[Freca - Narrazioni da Divano · Rating 5 out of 5]

Siamo in Ruanda, durante l'occupazione belga anche se la colonizzazione che più vediamo in queste pagine è quella religiosa: i missionari europei che salvano la popolazione locale con il pegno di convertirla. Ci sono tutte le contraddizioni di chi viene a portare un messaggio di pace e fratellanza ma perpetra un'uniformità culturale ed è connivente con gli oppressori, giustifica di uno status quo nato dall'invasione e dalla conquista. Sister Deborah è una guaritrice, è americana, è nera, è donna: nulla di tutto ciò è benvisto, soprattutto la ribellione dei suoi atti e delle sue parole nella profetizzazione di una nuova messia a immagine delle sue discepole. Un libro basato su una storia vera, uno spaccato di società, una lettura antropologica della religione in Africa, ma anche altamente spirituale e femminista, intimamente rivoluzionario

[Sofia Celeste · Rating 4 out of 5]

Thank you NetGalley and Archipelago for an ARC of this book.

This book is one I will be thinking about for days to come after finishing. This is a novel about the sacred role of women in Rwandan, and specifically how mythic traditions interact with present societal norms.

The prose style and translation worked really well together to deliver a contemplative and moving narrative. While this book is influenced by the political history of Rwanda, the plot feels rather spare so the character and societal development has the opportunity to shine.

I would definitely recommend this book to those looking for books which explore the roles and limitations of women within society.

[julia · Rating 3 out of 5]

3rd act did a lot of heavy lifting and i get that’s the point of a 3rd act but still. the novel is dead you guys! why don’t we all go ahead and move on

[Matthew · Rating 4 out of 5]

Another excellent novel from the same author/translator combination who brought us the wonderful "Kibogo."

[Kenneth · Rating 4 out of 5]

Different from, and not quite as strong, as her other works, but still quite impressive. Mukasonga is an incredible talent.

[Artemis · Rating 3 out of 5]

3.5 a great premise but the actual writing and style didnt convince me. shit got crazy at the end tho

[Anna-Maria · Rating 5 out of 5]

4 ¾

[Carlo Bugni · Rating 4 out of 5]

Ora so che lo spirito non verrà mai, anche se, nonostante tutto, va pur sempre aspettato, e quindi annuncio la venuta di colei che mai verrà, perché se qualcuno degli spiriti mantenesse la promessa, non ci sarebbe più niente da aspettare. Tutto si fermerebbe. E che felicità sarebbe una felicità immobile?

[Ulyera · Rating 3 out of 5]

When I was a young girl growing up in the 2010s, a woman at the Congolese church we attended accused my mother of being a witch. She did so because of certain jealousies. My mother did not hit the children she tutored during Sunday school, and the kids had grown affectionate with my mother because of that; kids who belonged to my mother's accuser. My mother also had a vibrant spiritual life consisting of dreams and early prayer rituals, and because of this was constantly in concert with the pastor and his wife about the visions for Congo. These factors bred a deep jealousy amongst some of the women of the church, who spread rumors behind my mother's back. My mom, not one to ever back down from a fight, confronted the women after her Sunday school children revealed who had spread such vicious rumors. I can't remember much past that moment of confrontation, but the incidents stuck with me as I grew older.

Many years have passed since then, and I still think of it from time to time. Ironically, my mother had also accused another woman of being a witch a few years before, incidentally burning all the gifts this woman had given her in our wood stove in Oregon. I was brought up keenly aware of false prophets and witches who sought to fulfill the Devil's work. These stories are the folktales I grew up on, and what constituted my introduction to folkloric literature. American Protestant millenarianism, coupled with colonial fears of afro-indigenous resistance, has informed my interpretations of literature, to the point that I am now in grad school looking to write a dissertation founded upon such a history.

Reading Sister Deborah recalled for me many of these sentiments, and revitalized my passion after a rough semester. I am rating it a 3.5 out of 5 stars due to some inconsistencies, but I do that with a heavy caveat. I read this in the translated English instead of the original French, and there are no doubt some translation issues. For instance, the book is said to take place in the early twentieth century, but the narrator states that she obtained her doctorate in Africana studies at Howard. I believe the author meant Anthropology focused on Africa, not Africana studies, which would have received title and recognition in the middle of the 20th century, and not the first half. That places the time frame too early for the narrator to obtain a doctorate in Africana Studies. Second, there was a note about Sister Deborah receiving crates of orange and lime Fanta. Soda flavoring would not be mainstream until after WWII, again placing some doubt on the timeline of the book, which states that it takes place in the early twentieth century. Description of Howard as the Black Harvard is more contemporary as well, so it was odd for the narrator to say such a thing. I might be wrong though, so take what I say with a grain of salt.

[Seitenmusik · Rating 3 out of 5]

"Sister Deborah" ist ein Roman von Scholastique Mukasonga, erschienen bei Claassen, übersetzt von Jan Schönherr. Die Geschichte beginnt in den 1930er Jahren in Ruanda: Eine amerikanische Missionarin verkündet, dass der Messias eine schwarze Frau sein wird. Damit gerät sie in Konflikt mit kolonialen Autoritäten, Kirche und Männern. Ihre Botschaft wird zur Provokation und zum Verhängnis. Jahrzehnte später folgt Ikirezi, eine Akademikerin in Washington, den Spuren der legendären Prophetin, um ihre Geschichte zu rekonstruieren.

Die Grundidee des Romans ist faszinierend: Was, wenn der Messias eine schwarze Frau ist? Mukasonga nutzt diese These, um koloniale Machtstrukturen, religiösen Dogmatismus und feministische Selbstermächtigung zu verhandeln. „Ich trug diese Geschichtenkrumen zusammen und bewahrte sie in einem Winkel meines Gedächtnisses auf wie kostbare Juwelen…“ (S. 71) – dieser Satz spiegelt gut wider, wie Geschichte und Erinnerung im Buch behandelt werden.

Trotz des spannenden Ansatzes fiel es mir schwer, beim Lesen emotional anzudocken. Der Roman lebt fast ausschließlich von beschreibendem Erzählen, Dialoge sind rar, was das Tempo sehr ruhig, manchmal langatmig macht. Einzelne historische Begriffe oder unklare Bezüge wie „Boy“ ohne Kontext irritierten mich, hier hätte ich mir etwas mehr Einbettung gewünscht oder ein Glossar am Ende.

Die Atmosphäre ist jedoch stark: Mukasonga schafft ein zartes, zugleich furchtloses Porträt der Frauen, zeigt Widerstand gegen Macht und Unterdrückung und lässt die Spiritualität spürbar werden. „Der Geist hat keinen Schimmer von den Kalendern der Menschen… Würde er den Ruf der Menschen, die Hoffnung der Frauen erhören, gäbe es keine Hoffnung mehr.“ (S. 136) – hier wird die Spannung zwischen Glaube, Erwartung und Realität spürbar.

Fazit
Sister Deborah ist ein ruhiger, nachdenklicher Roman, der feministisches Denken, koloniale Geschichte und Spiritualität vereint. Die Grundidee ist stark, die Umsetzung eher erzählerisch zurückhaltend. Empfehlenswert für Leser:innen, die poetische, reflektierte Literatur lieben und sich auf beschreibendes Erzählen einlassen möchten. Weniger für alle (wie mich), die Dialoge und eine gewisse Spannung suchen.

[Levisio · Rating 4 out of 5]

— Non hai sentito quello che hanno detto i nostri veri Padri? Quelli sono stregoni venuti da un paese che chiamano America, un paese che forse non esiste perché è il paese dei morti, dei dannati…

L'autrice, attraverso la voce narrante di Ikirezi, ci racconta i postumi della colonizzazione nel suo Paese, il Ruanda, da un punto di vista soprattutto religioso. Questo romanzo è quasi una cronaca delle ribellioni e delle repressioni che si scatenano tra i colli e le foreste quando le missioni europee e quelle americane vengono a scontrarsi in una terra in cui culti pagani e credenze popolari sono ancora vivissimi e si ibridano dei nuovi dogmi importati da "fuori".
Al centro della narrazione, il personaggio incredibile di Sister Deborah, della quale seguiamo letteralmente vita, morte e miracoli: profetessa, guaritrice, figura misteriosa che si annida sul confine tra le religioni, diventa la luminosa guida per un popolo che inizia a credere in un'Africa diversa e in una terra promessa che potranno raggiungere sotto la guida di una Messia femminile.
Ho trovato questo libro molto originale, mistico, affascinante. Lo consiglio a chi vuole approfondire dal punto di vista storico il passato di questo Paese martoriato, o a chi si appassiona all'evoluzione dei culti che prendono strade impreviste.

— La mamma, però, possedeva rimedi anche per contrastare i malefici degli esseri della notte (...) implorando di volta in volta Ryangombe, Maria, Nyabingi e molte altre entità celesti o sotterranee, perfino quelle che era meglio non conoscere né nominare, perché, essendo loro a mandare le malattie, erano anche le sole a poterle guarire.

[Ramona Cantaragiu · Rating 3 out of 5]

The story revolves around the character of Sister Deborah, a black woman who ends up being considered a prophet for a different type of Jesus, one that is female and black and will come down from the heavens on a cloud and give African women a miraculous seed that will grow without help and provide food for everyone. Sister Deborah belongs to a missionary cult which came from the US to Rwanda and she quickly becomes highly popular especially among women who start a movement by refusing to work and to tend to their family duties as they wait for the coming of the female black Christ. Sister Deborah's story is told from the perspective of Ikirezi, a once sickly child who was cured by Sister Deborah and ended up being a scholar in African studies who returns to her homeland after reading in the newspaper about a violent incident caused by the cult. The nice part about the story is that neither Sister Deborah nor Ikirezi are sure of what they are but they both desire to tell their tales even if these tales are fractured and often unreliably told. In the end, Ikirezi is asked to replace Sister Deborah and to play the role of messiah for her people, but she refuses. She chooses to return to America but remains hopeful that the promised messiah will eventually appear. Overall, this is a book about hope and the act of hoping in spite of knowing that what it is hoped for will never become real. This is a book about needing something greater to believe in and here anybody can replace the black female Christ with whatever suits their fancy as long as this belief helps them put one step in front of the other.

[Stella · Rating 2 out of 5]

After being deeply moved by Mukasonga’s Cockroaches, I was eager to read Sister Deborah, especially given its intriguing premise: a story set in a remote Rwandan village grappling with colonialism, religious power, and local folklore. The book opens with great promise and ends with a satisfying resonance, but the journey in between felt uneven and at times disjointed.

There’s no question that the themes Mukasonga explores here are rich and vital. The tensions between Catholic missionary zeal and traditional spiritual beliefs, the specter of colonial influence in isolated communities, and the rise of cultish fervor all create fertile ground for a powerful narrative. Yet, the novel doesn’t quite allow these dynamics to fully develop. Characters with immense narrative potential—like the chief’s son, whose background and internal conflicts could have added a lot of counterbalance to Sister Deborah's trajectory in much of the novel—are introduced briefly and moved along before we get the chance to really understand or feel invested in them.

Part of the issue may lie in the translation, which occasionally feels clunky or providing terms that are sometimes explained and other times left as is, which just makes the reading experience feel a bit cumbersome as it ruins Mukasonga's flow.

The novel also employs shifting perspectives, a technique that can offer layered insight but, in this case, contributes to a lack of narrative grounding. Instead of deepening the story, the frequent shifts often make it feel scattered, diluting the emotional and thematic impact.

Despite these drawbacks, the novel’s framing and central conflicts remain compelling.