This work is a clear 5 out of 5!
Its fundamentally poetic that the beautiful game fundamentally is about relationships. The relationships between fans and players, rival national clubs and among nations makes football a truly global sport. This emphasis on relationships is what made me unable to put down, Senegalese French author, Fatou Diome’s the Belly of the Atlantic. The 2000 European Cup featuring Paolo Maldini and the Italian teams introcudes us to the central relationship in the novel. On one side of the world is Salie, a writer living in Strasbourg, France. She only watches to provide additional coverage for her half-brother Madicke whom is obsessed with Maldini and football in that order. Watching from Niodor in Senegal, Madicke watches from a spot communal TV in the village.
In the Belly of the Atlantic, the beautiful game represents a slice of the French Dream for Senegalese characters in the novel. As Diome puts it football is, “the ideal emergency exit for third-world children (Diome 172). All the young men on Niodor dream of one simple life plan: emigrate to France, become a famous footballer and dine with the Senegalese President. Madicke is no different in that pursuit. He is actually more determined than all the others to emigrate and become a famous footballer.
Most of the plot of Diome’s novel centers on the relationship between Salie and Madicke. Salie has been living in France for some years. She originally came with her husband from Niodor, until she divorced him. She is a writer and feminist, acquiring her views on postcolonialism and negritude from her Marxist schoolteacher, Ndetare. Madicke is Salie’s opposite. He is born within wedlock. He is male and is idolized by the community more than her. Madicke is also obsessed with three things: football, Paolo Maldini, and his dreams of emigration. His dream is presented through the long-distanced phone calls that keep Salie and Madicke connected and serves as mechanism for their dialogue for most of the novel. In those calls, Salie has to provide Madicke with the latest football news and begrudgingly hear her brother’s dream to emigrate to France to become a footballer. Diome is at her best when she perfect captures those annoying family calls that have dominated the COVID era.
I loved many things about the Belly of the Atlantic. One aspect was that Diome used the poetry of her writing to connect the political and the personal together. Just like with football, all the aspects of emigration in the novel are textured by the complex stories that Salie narrates to the reader. In Niodor, everyone has a relationship to everyone else and it creates the conditions for plethora of stories. Madicke’s dreams are fanned by the lives of other people in the village who have moved to France and returned to tell their tales. These rumors from characters like the man from Barbes, whom spins his years of humiliation from racist French society into tales of milk and honey, and El Hadji, who pays a fisherman to spread the word of his success. While some character’s stories sell the fantasy of emigration, others offer the sober realities of French racism towards foreign migrants. This is presented in the story of Moussa, a boy from the village who is scouted by a French club. He is not let onto the team and suffers the racist slurs and degradations that lead to his repatriation. Ultimately he commits suicide after the village rejects him for his perceived failures abroad. The Belly of the Atlantic is best when offering a rare, didactic glimpse of the immigrant narrative. Instead of showing the rags-to-riches optimism story nor the grass-isn’t-always-greener pessimistic side, she offers nuanced balance, imbuing tragedy and delusion in these moments.
More importantly, the Belly of the Atlantic tells readers about the colonial legacy from the lens of Francophone African countries. In novels from English speaking countries, like Things Fall Apart or Homegoing, themes of post-colonialism revolve around imposed assimilation and the mental scars it left on the indigenous African populations in those nations. Diome, however, related the French colonial project as being centered around a mirage. She writes that France only welcomes migrants in to serve French interests but keeps foreigners at arm’s length. “Blacks, Blancs and Beurs,” is nothing more than an international myth, Diome writes, that France uses to build its development off of African labor to this this. In light of recent racial animosity towards foreigners in the country, this is a sober reminder to that reality.
If you are looking for important international social commentary presented with a stinging bite of dark humor, I highly recommend, the Belly of the Atlantic. Fatou Diome manages to successfully weave a story, or a story of stories, that explores the gamut of real experiences regarding migration in French-speaking Africa. It reminds us, that colonialism is still alive and well. But, through its great characters and pacing, also highlights the human feelings that it shapes.