SO LONG A LETTER MARIAMA BÂ

The structure of So Long a Letter by Mariama Bâ is epistolary, An epistolary novel is one that is
composed of letters, diary entries, or other personal documents, creating an intimate and
subjective narrative (Abrams & Harpham, 2015).
This style allows for a direct insight into the thoughts and emotions of the characters, making the
narrative feel personal and authentic.

How the Epistolary Form Enhances Storytelling

1. Creates Intimacy and Emotional Connection → The first-person, confessional style
makes readers feel like they are experiencing the protagonist’s emotions firsthand, making the
story more engaging.
2. Encourages Deep Reflection → The letter format allows for self-reflection by the
narrator, making the storytelling more thoughtful and layered rather than just a sequence of
events.
3. Enhances Realism and Authenticity → Since letters mimic real-life communication, the
story feels believable and genuine, which helps immerse readers in the narrative.
4. Allows for Multiple Perspectives → Even though it’s a single letter, Ramatoulaye reflects
on both her own experience and Aissatou’s different response to polygamy, adding depth and
contrast to the storytelling.
5. Builds Suspense and Emotional Engagement → Because letters are written after events
have happened, readers gradually uncover the story, making it more engaging than a
straightforward chronological narrative.
6. Highlights Themes of Communication and Isolation → The letter format itself
symbolizes connection and distance, reinforcing the novel’s themes and making the story more
meaningful.

CHAPTER SUMMARY
CHAPTER 1
Ramatoulaye, the narrator (living in Dakar, Senegal), addresses her friend, Aissatou, who lives far
away, in America. Ramatoulaye writes that she has received Aissatou's letter and that, by way of
reply, she has decided to write a diary. This diary, she decides, will serve as a "prop in [her]
distress" —though she doesn't yet reveal what has caused this distress. First she recalls her
childhood with Aissatou, listing off a series of discrete images: the two of them walking along the
same road to Koranic School, and the two of them burying their baby teeth in the same hole.
The immediate intimacy of Ramatoulaye's address establishes how close these two friends are,
and how close they remain despite the physical distance between them. At first Ramatoulaye's
promise to keep a diary that will also serve as a letter to Aissatou seems like a contradiction—
one typically thinks of a diary as private, and a letter as inherently shared. Yet Ramatoulaye's
memories from their childhood together makes it clear that the two friends share everything—
and thus this diary/letter gives the novel its unique form.
Ramatoulaye then reveals the cause of her distress: "Yesterday you were divorced," she writes,
"today I am a widow." Ramatoulaye's estranged husband, Modou, has died suddenly of a heart
attack.
Ramatoulaye describes to Aissatou the phone call she received informing her of the news, as well
as her-trip to the hospital, and her encounter with the body. She explains that Mawdo, Modou's
doctor friend and Aissatou's ex-husband, was called to the scene but arrived too late-all his
attempts to resuscitate Modou were for naught-and describes his sadness with a certain
tenderness. Distraught and confused, Ramatoulaye seeks consolation in remembered verses from
the Koran.
Although Ramatoulaye is estranged from Modou, she receives the news of his death with the
solemnity, awe, and devotion that her faith demands, and with the grief of a loving spouse.
Similarly, she expresses her tenderness toward Mawdo without restraint, despite his
estrangement from the letter's addressee, her friend Aissatou. For Ramatoulaye, death is a
sacred matter, the gravity of which overcomes (if only for a moment) feelings of animosity or
remorse. Here we also see the strength of Ramatoulaye's Islamic faith, and the way that it
informs her life, emotion, and decision-making on almost every level.

CHAPTER 2
The day after Modou's death, droves of mourners appear at Ramatoulaye's house to pay their
respects.
Modou's close relatives appear as well, and the women among them help make the funeral
preparations, bringing incense, holy water, white muslin, and dark wrappers to the hospital in
order to dress the body. In accordance with custom, Modou's young second wife, Binetou, is
installed in Ramatoulaye's house, to receive guests alongside her. Ramatoulaye is bothered by her
presence but ultimately feels pity toward the girl. The male mourners form a funeral procession
and accompany the body to its final resting place, while the women stay behind. Modou's sisters
ritually undo Ramatoulaye's and Binetou's hair.

Ramatoulaye's description of the funeral preparations demonstrates just how much custom and
tradition saturate Senegalese culture and experience-further, it demonstrates that Senegalese-
Muslim rituals typically delineate distinct, complementary roles for men and women.
Ramatoulaye's complex feelings toward Binetou, her co-wife, include both indignation at having
to associate with her husband's second wife and a kind of maternal feeling-after all, Binetou is
young enough to be Ramatoulaye's daughter.
Custom dictates that Ramatoulaye serve as a hospitable host to Modou's family and to her co-
wife's family, providing them with food and lodging and generally accommodating their every
need.
Ramatoulaye dreads this responsibility, most of all because it calls on her to surrender her
personality and dignity in the interest of serving her estranged relatives. Modou's sisters shower
praises and words of consolation over Ramatoulaye and Binetou, but it bothers Ramatoulaye that
they give equal consideration to both-Binetou was married to Modou for only five years, while
Ramatoulaye was married to him for thirty. The men return from the funeral procession and offer
their condolences to the women in a highly ritualized fashion.
In order to satisfy the demands of custom, Ramatoulaye must essentially erase herself, render
herself transparent, and reduce herself to an object in the service of men. The fact that she and
Binetou receive the same amount of attention only underlines the fact that Ramatoulaye's "role"
as the aggrieved wife has, in the eyes of the other mourners, overwhelmed any and all of her
individual characteristics as a human being.

CHAPTER 3
The funeral ceremony continues into its third day. Now all sorts of people come out of the
woodwork to pay their respects and mooch off the hospitality of the aggrieved. Ramatoulaye's
house is essentially trashed by the crowd. The men and women occupy different sides of the
parlor; the men occasionally shout over at the women to chastise them for gossiping loudly and
not showing the solemnity that the occasion demands. Many of the guests present gifts of
money to Ramatoulaye and to Modou's family.
Ramatoulaye explains that these customary gifts once consisted of unquantifiable goods, such as
livestock or millet, but now everyone simply presents the aggrieved with banknotes, and tries to
one-up everyone else by giving the most cash. The proceeds are divvied up among Ramatoulaye,
Binetou and her family, and Modou's family. Binetou's mother and Modou's sisters get the lion's
share, leaving Ramatoulaye destitute in comparison.
Ramatoulaye experiences firsthand the marked disconnect between the premise of dignity on
which the funeral ritual is founded and the indignity that the ritual actually can create. But while
she is skeptical of the traditions she is expected to follow, she is also nostalgic for traditions that
have been abandoned or otherwise corrupted: the exchange of cash in lieu of actual gifts strikes
her as somewhat appalling. The unequal apportioning of the gift money between her and her
family-in-law only underlines the illogic of custom for custom's sake, and the way even traditions
of generosity and selflessness can be easily
Finally Binetou and the relatives clear out, leaving destruction in their wake: Ramatoulaye's floors
are blackened and her walls are stained with oil, and trash litters the house. In their absence,
Ramatoulaye now must confront her mirasse, a period of four months and ten days that she must
spend in solitude and mourning, in accordance with custom. She is apprehensive but faces her
"duty" with resolve, writing that her "heart concurs with the demands of religion."
Despite her clear and outspoken discomfort with many of the demands of her religion and
culture, Ramatoulaye is determined to meet them head on and operate within them, rather than
against them.
This is one of the first glimpses of Ramatoulaye's particular brand of stoicism and quiet courage.

CHAPTER 4
The mirasse also demands that Ramatoulaye and her family-in-law meet to "strip" Modou and
reveal the secrets he kept during his lifetime. Mostly this involves laying bare his financial debts.
It is then revealed that the chic villa in which Modou had been living with Binetou and Binetou's
mother was acquired on a bank loan originally granted to both Modou and Ramatoulaye. Even
though the deed has Modou's name on it, Ramatoulaye essentially helped pay for the house.
However, Modou's lavish treatment of Binetou and her mother—he paid for their pilgrimage to
Mecca, bought them cars, and, to Ramatoulaye's horror, provided Binetou with a monthly
allowance after pulling her out of school- has led the two to think that they are guaranteed the
house. It seems also that they have begun fraudulently removing furniture from the house, even
before the estate is settled.
It becomes clear that Modou has used his privileged position to exploit Ramatoulaye's financial
independence. His family intends to prolong this exploitation into the future, and it doesn't seem
like there is much Ramatoulaye can do about it. Ramatoulaye's horror at Binetou's removal from
school establishes Ramatoulaye as someone who cares deeply about education, particularly for
young women, and once more illustrates her conflicted maternal feeling toward her young co-
wife.

CHAPTER 5
Alone again with her thoughts, Ramatoulaye becomes distressed. She wonders what could have
possibly caused Modou to abandon her, not to mention their twelve children, in order to marry
the 17-year-old Binetou. Ramatoulaye compares her fate to that of the blind, disabled, and
destitute, asking how those in worse situations than hers find strength, moral fortitude, and even
heroism in their disadvantage and distress.
Like the blind and the disabled, Ramatoulaye's position of social disadvantage has everything to
do with the circumstances of her birth and nothing to do with her character. Her assertion that
the blind can still act heroically in quiet ways, within the confines of their societal disadvantage,
reflects her own brand of stoic feminism.

CHAPTER SIX
Ramatoulaye recalls meeting Modou for the first time, while on a trip to a teachers' training
college with Aissatou. Addressing Modou directly, in the second person, she remembers him
asking her to dance and their ensuing romance, which endured even after Modou went off to
study law in France —Modou, she explains, felt homesick and lonely the whole time he was
there, and wrote to her often.
Modou's dissatisfaction in France illustrates a conundrum that then faced the educated in
Senegal: most pathways to higher education also demanded assimilation to French culture —that
is, the culture of the colonizer and oppressor. Separately, Ramatoulaye's use of direct address
illustrates her continued feelings of intimacy towards Modou, even after estrangement and death
have separated them.
Upon his return to Senegal, Modou and Ramatoulaye prepared to marry. Modou also introduced
his friend Mawdo to Aissatou. Ramatoulaye's mother was skeptical of her daughter's choice,
however, and Ramatoulaye now understands her skepticism. Ramatoulaye and her mother
belonged to the first generations of women fighting for empowerment in Senegal, and her
mother wanted her daughter to have a husband that would be equal to Ramatoulaye's intellect
and ambition. It seems that by marrying Modou, an idler, Ramatoulaye surrendered her freedom
to a man who was beneath her. Now she has nothing to show for it.
Ramatoulaye's disagreement with her mother raises a question that vexes the entire novel: are
traditional family life, religious marriage, and motherhood fundamentally at odds with female
empowerment? Does a woman surrender essential freedoms just by choosing to marry? Or just
by marrying the "wrong" kind of person?

CHAPTER 7
Ramatoulaye remembers with fondness her and Aissatou's French-which is to say, white—
schoolteacher. All of her students came from different cultures within French West Africa, and
she treated them all equally, and instilled universal moral values in them, lifting them out of the
"bog of tradition, superstition, and custom."
The acceptance offered to Ramatoulaye by her schoolteacher stands in contrast to the alienation
Modou felt in France. Ramatoulaye's admiration for the teacher demonstrates a certain
optimism-a faith that education and progress do not have to include the indignity and erasure of
forced assimilation into the culture of the oppressor.
Ramatoulaye wonders why, despite her education, she chose Modou over Daouda Dieng, an
intelligent, mature, wealthy doctor who tried unsuccessfully to court her. She rejected him
against the wishes of her parents, who saw Daouda as the more stable, practical option.
At the time, Ramatoulaye's rejection of Daouda was in some sense an expression of
empowerment and a rejection of tradition. But now she wonders whether accepting a more
practical option might have ultimately offered her greater freedoms in the long run.
Custom, Modernity, and Progress Theme Icon

CHAPTER 8
Ramatoulaye shifts her attention to Aissatou's controversial engagement to Mawdo. Aissatou is of
modest birth —her father is a goldsmith—while Mawdo is nobility, his mother a "Princess of the
Sine." In the eyes of tradition it was a total mismatch, and at the time of the engagement
everyone in town gossiped angrily about the scandal.
The widespread shock in response to the engagement demonstrates just how strong a grip
custom has over social relations in Senegal, or at least the parts of the country that Ba describes.
Ramatoulaye then uses Aissatou's father's profession to discuss some of the broader social
changes happening in Senegal. Aissatou's younger brothers will not take up their father's
profession, pursuing a Western education instead. While Ramatoulaye acknowledges the
importance of education-she is a schoolteacher, after all-she is wary of overemphasizing it. For
one, education is still largely inaccessible for the poor, and in any case schooling is not necessarily
right for everyone. What will the dropouts do?
Modernization has begun to render obsolete the traditional crafts-like goldsmithing-that would
otherwise serve as alternatives to those not receiving a higher education. This conflict between
modernization and tradition is an "eternal debate," Ramatoulaye writes.
Modernization is not, Ramatoulaye suggests, a universal good. While it is necessary for the
progress of Senegal as a newly independent nation, it also seems to compromise important
facets of Senegal's cultural identity. While Ramatoulaye cannot offer a solution to the
conundrum, she seems to suggest that the "eternal debate" is important to preserve-perhaps the
solution lies partly in the very process of debating.

CHAPTER 9
Ramatoulaye and Aissatou marry their fiancés around the same time, and together they endure
the joys and frustrations of their new marital life. Ramatoulaye is pestered constantly by her
mother-in-law and sisters-in-law, who day after day drop in unannounced and abuse her
hospitality. She is also exasperated to discover that despite her professional life as a teacher, and
despite the help of a few maids, the brunt of household duties still fall to her. For Aissatou's part,
her family-in-law does not respect her, and barely acknowledges her existence.
Modou's family's careless treatment of Ramatoulaye is a form of objectification-in their eyes she
is little more than a provider of service. Even her professional success cannot save her from the
role assigned to her by custom. Ramatoulaye and Aissatou's friendship provide them with an
escape, however. With their spouses and in-laws they endure their oppression silently, but with
each other they can express their frustration openly.
In their precious free time together, Ramatoulaye and Aissatou take long walks together along
the coast and relax in Aissatou's beautiful home. They find solace in nature and the open air. They
find solace, too, in their professional lives. They are both schoolteachers, and the satisfaction
they derive from helping young children is incomparable to anything they feel at home.
The openness and natural beauty of the coast stands in sharp contrast to the confines of the
home.
Against the claims of custom and tradition, Ramatoulaye and Aissatou find more fulfillment in
their friendship and profession than their conventionally "sacred" household duties as wives.

CHAPTER 10
Modou rises to the top ranks of the trade union for which he works. Meanwhile, Senegal is in the
midst of achieving its independence. Debate over the right path forward-how best to shed the
history of colonial exploitation and bring a new republic into being-grips the country.
Ramatoulaye sees her generation as occupying a privileged but difficult position between two
distinct eras. Modou leads his trade union into collaboration with the government. He is
skeptical, however, of the hasty establishment of too many embassies, which he sees as an
unnecessary drain on Senegal's precious resources.
Ramatoulaye and those around her feel personally invested in the political debates taking place,
and the path before them is somewhat fraught. Modou's skepticism of the embassies illustrates
one of the biggest dilemmas facing independent Senegal: modernization seems to demand
participation in an increasingly global economy, and yet doing so also seems to come at the
expense of internal stability (and often at the expense of Senegal's unique culture, at least when
"globalization" means assimilation into an oppressive Western culture).

CHAPTER 11
While admitting that she must be reopening old wounds for her friend, Ramatoulaye proceeds to
describe the breakup of Aissatou's marriage. She explains that Mawdo's mother, Aissatou's
"Aunty Nabou," simply could not accept that her son had married a woman of low birth. Nabou
resolves to visit her brother, Farba Diouf, who is a customary chief in Diakhao, a rural town far
inland. After a long journey she visits the tomb of her noble ancestors, which is located in the
town, and pays her respects there. Nabou is received in her brother's house like a queen: she is
served the choicest bits of meat, and relatives from all over the area come to visit her. Toward the
end of her visit, she tells her brother that she needs a child by her side-her children have married
and her house is now empty. Farba, hearing this, immediately offers to surrender his own
daughter, Nabou's namesake, to Nabou's care. Aunty Nabou returns home with the young Nabou
in tow.
Nabou's symbolic journey to the country's interior is like a journey back in time: the rural town of
Diakhao is still very much under the spell of tradition, unlike cosmopolitan Dakar. And while the
rituals Nabou rehearses there are antiquated, Ramatoulaye still describes them with a degree of
awe and respect—they are somewhat beautiful and powerful, even if they ultimately quicken
Aissatou's personal troubles. Still, the ease with which Farba offers up his young daughter is
certainly appalling. She has no say in the matter, and is exchanged like a mere commodity. It's
also worth noting that Aunty Nabou, a woman, has internalized the sexist aspects of her culture
seemingly as much as any man, and feels no qualms about accepting her niece solely as an
object.
CHAPTER 12
Under Aunty Nabou's guardianship, and with the help of Ramatoulaye, young Nabou is enrolled
in a French school and after a few years becomes a midwife. One day, Aunty Nabou summons
Mawdo and tells him that Farba has offered young Nabou to Mawdo as a wife. Aunty Nabou
implores Mado to accept—if he doesn't, she says, she will surely die of shame. Mawdo takes this
to heart, and agrees to marry young Nabou. The whole community learns about this before
Aissatou does. Reluctantly Mawdo breaks the news to her, telling her that he is agreeing to the
marriage only to appease his mother —he does not love young Nabou. Aissatou goes along with
this for a while, but when Mawdo begins to have children with young Nabou, Aissatou leaves,
leaving him a letter-which Ramatoulaye reproduces for the reader-explaining in direct terms that
she cannot accept his decision.
While at first it seems that Mawdo maintains an entirely practical view of his marriage to the
young Nabou, his actions —namely, having children with his new wife-undercut his claims to
pragmatism.
Mawdo tells Aissatou his decision is a matter of principle, not passion, and yet Aissatou's
uncompromising and impassioned rejection of him is the most principled decision perhaps in the
whole novel. Ramatoulaye's role in all of this —in the background, never intervening on the part
of either Mawdo or Aissatou-illustrates her more conservative and reserved tendencies.
Now free of her marriage, Aissatou turns to books, and begins taking her education seriously.
Ramatoulaye admires this greatly. Aissatou returns to school, receives a degree in interpretation,
and gets a job at the Senegalese embassy in America. Meanwhile, Mawdo finds himself
dissatisfied with Nabou. She does not keep up the house in the way Aissatou had, and she is
constantly receiving visitors from her hometown. In letters Mawdo begs Aissatou to return, but
she refuses. Despite his misery, Mawdo continues to have children with Nabou. When
Ramatoulaye confronts him about this, Mawdo can only explain himself with a crude analogy: he
is a starving man, and Nabou is the nearest plate of food. This disgusts Ramatoulaye.
Aissatou flourishes outside the confines of marriage and custom, embracing modernism and
education and going so far as to leave the entire country behind. For his part, Mawdo misses
Aissatou for reasons that have nothing to do with her and everything to do with her ability to
serve him. Ramatoulaye's disgust at Mawdo's analogy demonstrates not just a solidarity with
Aissatou but also with Nabou, who throughout the whole ordeal has never been treated as more
than just an object.

CHAPTER 13
Ramatoulaye now decides to recount her own marital misfortune. Her teenaged daughter, Daba,
begins to spend a lot of time with a friend Binetou; together they are preparing for a
standardized test. Modou often offers to drive Binetou home after the study sessions. Binetou
wears expensive dresses which, she explains, have been paid for by a "sugar daddy."
Ramatoulaye doesn't think much of this until, one day,Daba explains that the "sugar daddy"
wants to marry Binetou. Ramatoulaye tells Daba that Binetou's education is far more important,
and that she shouldn't cut short her youth simply because a rich man wants to marry her. Though
Binetou agrees, she cannot convince her family, who are attracted to the
"sugar daddy's" money. She reluctantly accepts his marriage proposal.
Ramatoulaye's emphasis on education, and her wish for a successful future for Binetou, seems to
be driven in part by Aissatou's success after leaving Mawdo. Ramatoulaye knows firsthand how
difficult it is, in Senegalese society, for a wife to maintain both a home and a professional life.
Binetou's submission to her family's demands ominously echoes Mado's submission to Aunty
Nabou's demands
—it seems that the older generation often forces their family members to continue within the
confines of strict or outdated customs.
On the day that Binetou is to be married to her sugar daddy, Modou's brother Tamsir, Mawdo,
and a local imam appear at Ramatoulaye's house. Modou is nowhere to be seen. After some
dawdling and beating around the bush, the three men announce the reason for their visit:
Modou, it turns out, is Binetou's sugar daddy, and today he is taking her as his second wife. The
men express their support of the marriage, which they see as a matter of God's will, though
Mawdo, evidently remembering Aissatou's reaction to his own second marriage, seems subdued.
Ramatoulaye is of course shocked and upset—suddenly all of Modou's absences in recent
months begin to make sense-yet she maintains her composure, smiling, thanking the men, and
offering them something to drink.
The formality of the exchange, while supposedly customary, comes off as ridiculous and cowardly,
a total breakdown of respectful communication-Modou can't even confront his wife himself.
Depending on how you look at it, Ramatoulaye's stoicism in the face of this absurd development
is either tragic or empowered. At the very least, it's clear that maintaining her composure and
offering these men hospitality is no easy feat.

CHAPTER 14
Daba, who was also kept in the dark about the true identity of Binetou's sugar daddy, is
infuriated, and implores Ramatoulaye to leave Modou just like Aissatou left Mawdo.
Ramatoulaye's neighbor, Farmata, also encourages Ramatoulaye to leave. Farmata is a griot, a
kind of fortune teller, and she informs Ramatoulaye that her future includes laughter and a new
husband. Ramatoulaye rejects these predictions, however-she thinks she is too old to attract the
attention of a new man, and worries that if she were to leave Modou she would live out the rest
of her life in loneliness. Increasingly distraught, she finds herself descending into a nervous
breakdown.
Modou's abandonment of Ramatoulaye has left her unable to imagine that any man will find her
attractive in the future. Her steadfast refusal to act on Daba's and Farmata's advice is at once
tragic and somewhat impressive—it might be argued that she is asserting a kind of
independence, rejecting the idea that she requires a man in her life at all.By way of illustrating
her own distress, Ramatoulaye tells the story of her acquaintance, Jacqueline.
Jacqueline, a protestant from Coite d'Ivoire, marries Samba Diack, a friend of Mawdo's.
Jacqueline is not used to Senegalese customs. She is treated like an outsider, and is shocked
when Samba begins chasing after other women-relatively standard behavior for Senegalese
husbands. Distressed, she begins experiencing all manner of physical pain, which no doctor can
diagnose. She undergoes a host of x-rays and invasive tests, but the nature of her illness remains
a mystery-that is, until a doctor diagnoses her with depression. The diagnosis alone helps
Jacqueline greatly. Now that she knows the source of her illness, she turns her energies inward,
and begins to overcome her depression. Taking heart in this story, Ramatoulaye resolves to
confront her suffering head-on. She decides to remain married to Modou —in her view, the
dignified solution.
For Jacqueline and, the reader can assume, Ramatoulaye, mental pain manifests itself as physical
pain— a potent reminder of the toll that the constant stress of oppression takes on the body. The
conclusion Ramatoulaye draws from Jacqueline's story is certainly counterintuitive: she seems to
suggest that her suffering is more a matter of attitude than circumstance. Whether this
conclusion should be applauded is left somewhat ambiguous by Bâ. Separately, Jacqueline's story
illustrates a political reality that is often overlooked in the West: just how diverse Africa's nations
and cultures are.

CHAPTER 15
Ramatoulaye compares and contrasts Nabou and Binetou. Nabou is full of poise and tact, thanks
in part to Aunty Nabou's intense involvement in her moral education. Her job at a maternity
home is difficult and often frustrating, but Nabou is a fighter, and in this way Ramatoulaye sees
her as a kindred spirit. In contrast, Ramatoulaye feels a kind of pity for Binetou. Trapped in a
marriage she never wanted, Binetou can tolerate her life only by making Modou dye his hair,
dress younger than his age, and lavish money on her. Some of Ramatoulaye's friends, horrified by
Modou's behavior, suggest that she stage a supernatural intervention, using love potions or
spiritual mediums to break up the marriage. However, Ramatoulaye rejects these suggestions as
irrational.
Whereas Ramatoulaye feels a kind of parallel feeling toward Nabou-they are both working
women struggling to reconcile their home life with their working life-she feels something closer
to a maternal feeling toward Binetou. Ramatoulaye's rejection of her friends' suggestions
constitutes a rejection of the old ways, a rejection of superstition in favor of a kind of brutal and
resigned rationalism.
Instead, Ramatoulaye resolves to "look reality in the face." As she explains, reality consists of
Lady Mother-in-Law (Binetou's mother) living a pampered, "gilded" life on Modou's dime. It also
consists of the odd couple, Modou and Binetou, going to nightclubs and dancing awkwardly, to
everyone else's delight and embarrassment.Neither Binetou nor her mother are seemingly at all
interested in Modou; they are only interested in his money.
CHAPTER 16
As time goes on, Ramatoulaye finds that what her children originally begged her to do-to leave
Modou
—is now functionally the case, as Modou seems to have lost all interest in maintaining even the
semblance of a relationship with her. While Ramatoulaye did not make this choice for herself, she
learns to cope with and even enjoy her newfound independence. Being a single parent to twelve
children is no easy feat, however. Money is tight, and she must make certain compromises, such
as making her children ride public transport, while Binetou and Lady Mother-in-Law drive around
in a fancy new car.
Ramatoulaye's resolve in the face of a fate she never chose for herself demonstrates an
extraordinary resilience, and a belief in making due with whatever life has in store. Ramatoulaye
does not take direct action on her own behalf in the sense that she doesn't stand up to Modou,
but she at least takes the challenges of single motherhood (multiplied twelve-fold) in stride.
In passing, Ramatoulaye one day mentions having to ride public transportation to Aissatou in a
letter. In response, Aissatou immediately buys Ramatoulaye a car by calling in an order to the
local Fiat agency.
Ramatoulaye is surprised and overjoyed. She does not know how to drive and is somewhat afraid
to learn, but remains determined and overcomes her fear.
Not only must Ramatoulaye adapt to her newfound personal independence, she must adapt to
Senegal's increasing modernization and globalization, as represented by her learning to drive an
Italian car purchased for her by her friend overseas.
CHAPTER 17
Ramatoulaye reflects further on the fate of her marriage. She struggles to understand why
Modou decided to leave her in the first place, and tries to determine if there was anything she
could have done to prevent his flight. She is sure, however, that she has been an exemplary wife
and mother. Further, she admits that she is still devoted to Modou, despite his terrible treatment
of her. She writes to Aissatou that, though she respects women who take a stand against their
errant husbands and leave them behind, she has never conceived of happiness outside of
marriage.
Ramatoulaye clearly did nothing to invite Modou's abandonment of her. Despite her sacrifices
and invaluable contributions to her family life, she is still seen by Modou as entirely disposable.
Ramatoulaye's "confession" to Aissatou shows again just how much she has internalized custom
and tradition, including the idea that there can be no real happiness or fulfillment for a woman
outside of marriage.
CHAPTER 18
It is now the fortieth day after Modou's death. Ramatoulaye writes that she has forgiven him.
Then, out of the blue, Tamsir, Mawdo, and the Imam appear again in Ramatoulaye's home.
Tamsir speaks, telling Ramatoulaye that as soon as she comes out of mourning her will marry her,
explaining that he prefers her to the "other one" (Binetou, that is).
Tamsir expects to inherit Ramatoulaye from his dead brother much like he would a piece of
furniture.
His confidence—he doesn't ask so much as he informs-conveys a total disrespect for
Ramatoulaye's independence and intelligence, and even her basic humanity. His reference to
Binetou as "the other one" might be laughable if it weren't so horrible.
Ramatoulaye is infuriated by this proposal. In response, she rails against Tamsir's disrespect and
presumptuousness. She tells him that he is disrespecting not only her, but his own wives and the
memory of his brother. She insinuates that he is simply after his brother's properties, which Daba
and her husband have recently bought. Taken aback, Mawdo begs Ramatoulaye to stop yelling,
but she refuses. Finally she finishes, and Tamsir leaves, defeated and speechless.
This is perhaps the first time in the novel that Ramatoulaye takes a stand against her oppressors,
and it is certainly satisfying. She proves herself to be more sensitive, smart, and rhetorically deft
that Tamsir.
Her outburst, which cuts straight to the heart of things, is a stark counterpoint to the three men's
bumbling, awkward admission of Modou's infidelity earlier in the novel.
CHAPTER 19
The next day, Daouda Dieng, Ramatoulaye's old suitor, appears. Ramatoulaye senses that he has
come to ask for her hand in marriage, although he lacks the obnoxious confidence that Tamsir
displayed.
Wanting to steer Daouda away from the topic of marriage, Ramatoulaye begins discussing politics
with him (he is a member of the National Assembly). Ramatoulaye teases Daouda about the lack
of women in the assembly-only four of the one hundred representatives are women. She stresses
that women should have the right to equal education and equal pay, and that Senegal has gone
too long without a female leader. Daouda vehemently agrees, and claims to have given speeches
before the assembly on those very issues. He concludes by saying that Senegal has a long way to
go. He leaves without bringing up marriage.Though this exchange is certainly intelligent and
mutually respectful, there is something ironic about it too. That is, Daouda has come to
Ramatoulaye essentially to claim ownership over her, and yet he insists that he wants greater
freedoms for women in Senegal. Still, despite the irony, the civil exchange presents a hopeful
picture of the future of political discourse in Senegal (in both public and private spheres). The two
speakers are energized and enthusiastic about their country's future.

CHAPTER 20
Some days later, Daouda appears at Ramatoulaye's door again. Once again they fall on the
subject of politics, but this time Daouda redirects the conversation to the subject of marriage. He
admits to Ramatoulaye that he has never stopped loving her, ever since he first tried to court her.
Ramatoulaye is taken aback if not entirely surprised. She even feels, as she tells Aissatou, a little
"intoxicated" by the proposal. Tactfully, Daouda tells Ramatoulaye to think about it, and then he
takes his leave. On his way out, he runs into Farmata, Romatoulaye's griot neighbor. After the
brief encounter Farmata rushes back to Ramatoulaye and informs her that she's met
Ramatoulaye's new husband, whose arrival she predicted earlier.
Daouda's humility and tact are a breath of fresh air in comparison to Tamsir's crass proposal.
Rather than announce his intentions, Daouda presents Ramatoulaye with a choice. Still,
Ramatoulaye is by no means overjoyed by the attention— at most she is slightly intrigued.
Farmata's excited reaction is somewhat absurd and, in Ramatoulaye's eyes, overly superstitious.
Ramatoulaye is the true master of her fate, at least in this aspect of her life.

CHAPTER 21
Ramatoulaye thinks over Daouda's proposal in solitude. She knows Daouda is an honorable man.
She trusts that he would serve as wonderful father to her children, and she notes that, despite
not really loving his current wife, he has always treated her with the utmost respect, going so far
as to involve her in his political life. Farmata concurs with all these assessments, and encourages
Ramatoulaye to accept the proposal. However, Ramatoulaye can't bring herself to love Daouda.
As she puts it, she knows in her head that he would make a fine husband, but her heart
disagrees. She decides she cannot marry him.
Ramatoulaye cannot bring herself to agree with a practical view of marriage, choosing instead to
follow her heart. In this way she rejects the traditional, conservative worldview—represented
here by Farmata's urgings-according to which she has essentially no choice but to choose
Daouda. Her choice to remain a single mother is as brave as it is honest.
Ramatoulaye decides to write a letter to Daouda, explaining her decision not to marry him. In it,
she says that while she holds Daouda in high esteem, it is ultimately only esteem that she feels
for him, not-romantic love. She also writes that, having only recently been abandoned by her
husband, she cannot in good conscience come between Daouda and his current wife. Farmata
delivers the letter, thinking that Ramatoulaye has accepted the proposal. She learns otherwise
when she sees Daouda's reaction upon reading it. Angry and disappointed, she returns to
Ramatoulaye with Daouda's response: "All or nothing.
Adieu."
Ramatoulaye's letter is measured and reasonable, while Daouda's response is curt and somewhat
extreme. Though its extremity perhaps originates in personal anguish, it also seems to reveal that
Daouda is unable to conceive of Ramatoulaye as a friend and a peer-she is only a potential mate.
Now that she has turned him down, he has no use for her company anymore.
After Daouda, more and more men show up at Ramatoulaye's doorstep to ask for her hand in
marriage.
She rejects them all, which earns her a reputation among her neighbors as a crazy woman. As
Ramatoulaye explains, all the men seem to be after her inheritance, which she has recently won
back from Binetou and Binetou's mother. Most notably, Ramatoulaye — with the help of her
daughter Daba and Daba's husband-has won back the villa that Modou lived in with Binetou and
her mother. Binetou and her mother are evicted from the house. While Binetou's mother is
terribly upset by this, Binetou is indifferent.
Ramatoulaye's steadfast refusal of a second husband is completely sensible —and financially
responsible
—yet in nearly everyone's eyes she seems crazy. In other words, the prejudices of the community
do not permit the idea that a powerful, financially independent woman can live on her own.
Binetou's indifferent reaction to the loss of her house seems to suggest that her early marriage
has sapped her of all emotion, or that the greed that seemed to motivate the marriage mostly
belonged to her mother, not herself.

CHAPTER 22
Ramatoulaye writes to Aissatou that Ousmane, her youngest child, is always the one to bring her
the letters that Aissatou sends her. Ramatoulaye is greatly comforted by Aissatou's words of
comfort and encouragement. She looks forward to the day when they meet again, writing that
the changes their bodies have undergone, and the time they have spent apart, will be
meaningless to them. Their friendship is founded in the content of their hearts.
For Ramatoulaye, true friendship, unlike romantic love and marriage, is impervious to distance,
time, and change. Even though Ramatoulaye and Aissatou have conducted their friendship only
through letters over many years, it remains as strong as ever.
Daba returns from the secondary school that Mawdo (Mawdo Fall), one of Ramatoulaye's sons,
attends.
He has been getting into trouble with his white philosophy teacher, who "cannot tolerate a black
coming first in philosophy," and favors a white French boy, consistently giving him the highest
marks even though Mawdo is the better student. Both Mawdo and Daba understand this to be a
great injustice, and Daba wants to tell the teacher off. But Ramatoulaye tries to dissuade her,
arguing that doing so will be a waste of energy. It is more important, Ramatoulaye argues, to
focus on one's own studies, one's own improvement.
Ramatoulaye and her daughter have two separate ways of responding to this obviously racist,
colonialist injustice. Ramatoulaye represents a more conservative, pull-yourself-up-by-your-
bootstraps view of self-reliance. Daba, who is younger and more fiery, seems to favor
confrontation and protest in the face of injustice. These two perspectives represent in miniature
a greater political question dogging newly independent Senegal: how best to respond to white
supremacy and a recent history of colonialism and oppression.
Ramatoulaye lingers on Daba for a while, describing her marriage to her husband Abou. Daba
maintains a far more practical view of marriage than Ramatoulaye ever has, fully accepting that
there may come a day when she and her husband decide to divorce. Daba has also decided she
does not want to enter into electoral politics, preferring instead the small women's organization
to which she belongs. Ramatoulaye is somewhat bewildered by her daughter's decisions but
ultimately impressed by her conviction and the clarity of her reasoning. Ramatoulaye closes this
section of the letter by describing how her daughter Aissatou (Aissatou's namesake) helps her
with raising the young children, and how Mawdo Fall helps her when she is sick.
Though Daba's view of marriage differs significantly from Ramatoulaye's, Ramatoulaye is able to
understand and ultimately respect her daughter's reasoning. Daba represents a younger, more
progressive generation coming to the fore, taking the reigns of newly independent Senegal.
Ramatoulaye, then, represents an older generation that is potentially willing to let in new values
and cultural norms, rather than bitterly clinging to custom and causing pain for her children.

CHAPTER 23
Ramatoulaye recounts to Aissatou a recent episode in which she walked in on three of daughters
— whom she describes as "the trio" —smoking cigarettes secretly in their room. She is shocked
by this, and doubly shocked by their bewilderment in the face of her anger. Ramatoulaye
wonders whether she has been too liberal as a mother (she lets them go out at night on their
own) and worries that smoking will lead them into other, more dangerous vices. She notes also
that her daughters have started wearing trousers, which strikes her as indecent. Despite her
worry, however, Ramatoulaye doesn't crack down on her children-instead she simply keeps watch
over them, otherwise trusting them to make their own decisions.
The trio's behavior suggests that they are abandoning conventional Senegalese-Muslim wisdom
in favor of a more progressive, European-inflected outlook. On the one hand, they now have
access to greater freedoms; on the other hand, these new freedoms present dangers to their
health (in a quite literal way, in the case of the cigarettes), and threaten to admit indulgence and
vice. Though Ramatoulaye disagrees with her children's decisions, her ultimately measured
response to them suggests an underlying liberal attitude.

CHAPTER 24
Not long after, Ramatoulaye is interrupted during her evening prayers when her two sons,
Alioune and Malick, come home injured and crying, a group of friends in tow. Malick's arm looks
broken. The children explain that while they were playing soccer in the street, a man on a
motorcycle ran over a group of them. They bring the motorcyclist, whom they have beaten up,
before Ramatoulaye. He apologizes to her, explaining that he did not expect the boys to be
playing in the street, and failed to stop before hitting them. To her sons' surprise, Ramatoulaye
takes the side of the motorcyclist, chastising her children and telling them they shouldn't have
been playing in the street to begin with.
Malick's broken arm is treated by Mawdo at the hospital.
The motorcycle symbolically comes crashing into the children just as modernization has come
crashing into Senegal —with a sudden influx of both new freedoms and new dangers.
Ramatoulaye's decision to take the motorcyclist's side in the dispute further characterizes her as
a tough but conscientious mother, focused more on educating her children than soothing them in
their distress, especially when doing so might compromise her morals or sense of justice.
Ramatoulaye segues into discussing her daughter Aissatou, her friend Aissatou's namesake.
Aissatou has become pregnant out of wedlock. Ramatoulaye recounts how she learned of this
development. Aissatou had begun to show some signs of pregnancy-she had lost weight, her
breasts were swelling, and she was suffering from morning sickness—but Ramatoulaye brushed
these signs off as coincidences.
However, Farmata, Ramatoulaye's griot neighbor, insisted otherwise, until finally Farmata herself
confronted Aissatou, learned the truth, and brought her before Ramatoulaye to explain herself.
In this case, Ramatoulaye's hands-off parenting leads her into blindness. She does not expect the
news, or does not want to believe it, or both. Suddenly Farmata, who until this point has seemed
like a fanatical quack, is the one who sees through to the truth of things. Perhaps conventional
wisdom isn't totally useless after all.
Aissatou Il tearfully explains that the father is Ibrahima Sall, a law student that she has been
dating and, in fact, loves. Ramatoulaye is at first angry-how could her daughter do something so
careless, and so soon after Modou's death? However, swallowing her anger and remembering
how her daughters supported her in her distress, Ramatoulaye decides to embrace Aissatou with
open arms and confront the situation with optimism. Farmata, who expected Ramatoulaye to put
on a more angry, indignant display, is hugely disappointed By consciously rejecting the part of her
that wants to punish Aissatou, Ramatoulaye bucks conventional wisdom, creating for herself a
code of ethics that prioritizes love, understanding, and forgiveness over the dictates of religion
and tradition. It is perhaps only a small victory against the forces of oppression that Ramatoulaye
contends with throughout the novel, but for Ramatoulaye and Aissatou it makes all the
difference.
CHAPTER 25
Ramatoulaye summons Ibrahima Sall, and he comes to visit her. She is pleasantly surprised by
him: he is clean, dresses well, and conducts himself with tact. He assures her that he and
Aissatou II have figured everything out: his parents will take care of the baby until Aissatou and
Ibrahima finish their studies.
Luckily, the baby is due during the holidays, so Aissatou will be able to hide her pregnancy and
avoid expulsion. Ramatoulaye is impressed by all of this, and adds nothing to the plan. She writes
that she feels that Aissatou has entered Ibrahima's care; Ramatoulaye is no longer her daughter's
primary guardian.
Ibrahima and Aissatou's open dialogue, careful planning, and their love and mutual respect for
each other offer a clear counterpoint to Ramatoulaye's and (other) Aissatou's failed marriages. By
Senegalese standards, Ibrahima and Aissatou's union is entirely unconventional-even immoral-
and yet in practice it seems like a far healthier relationship than the others the novel has offered
thus far. Their example gives Ramatoulaye hope.
CHAPTER 26
Ibrahima visits Ramatoulaye's house often. He is a role model to Ramatoulaye's young sons, and
he encourages Aissatou's namesake in her studies. "The trio" spurns him, and Farmata remains
skeptical, but Ramatoulaye comes to admire him greatly.
Once again, Ibrahima's conscientious and solicitous behavior is a hopeful counterpoint to
Modou's abandonment of Ramatoulaye.
Spurred on by Aissatou Il's pregnancy, Ramatoulaye decides to have a conversation with "the
trio," her younger daughters, about sexual education. She remarks that in the past, young girls
have been taught chastity above all else. However, instead of forbidding sex outright, she
channels a more "modern" outlook, and decides to emphasize safe sex above all. In addition, she
tries to underline the "sublime significance" of sex, in the hope that her daughters will take it
seriously. She delivers her lecture nervously and with some difficulty, but her daughters seem
unfazed and even bored by it —Ramatoulaye gets the impression that, to them, she is merely
stating the obvious.
Times have changed: though Ramatoulaye finds it difficult to adopt a more "modern" outlook
than she is used to, her daughters, simply by virtue of being young, have naturally developed
more liberal attitudes toward sex than the older generations. If Ramatoulaye's daughters are any
indication, the future of Senegal has the potential to be more open, honest, and understanding
than ever before.
CHAPTER 27
Aissatou is coming to visit soon, and Ramatoulaye looks forward to her arrival. Ramatoulaye
reflects further on the fate of women in Senegalese society: she is heartened by the expansion of
their rights and liberties, but remains wary that their hard-fought gains are unstable-certain
social restrictions persist, and men still have a monopoly on power. Ramatoulaye insists, however,
on her faith in the institution of marriage, and what she calls the "complementarity" of man and
woman. Man and wife are the most basic political unit, she argues, as nations are made up of
families.
With regard to the status of women in society, Ramatoulaye is hopeful but ever vigilant: she
knows that societal advances for women are always fragile and difficult to maintain. At the same
time, her belief in the institution of marriage shows her more conservative streak, and
demonstrates her belief that family life and political life are not distinct, mutually exclusive
pursuits— in fact, they are inseparable.
Ramatoulaye wonders if Aissatou will appear changed upon returning. She guesses that Aissatou
will be wearing a suit, not traditional clothing, and will ask to eat at a table with utensils, in the
Western style.
Ramatoulaye closes by saying that she retains hope for her future, and that she will go out in
search of happiness.
Ramatoulaye's conjecture about Aissatou, though lighthearted, expresses an anxiety that
modernization might come to erase Senegalese culture. Tellingly, the novel does not describe the
actual reunion of the two friends-it only exists as an address, a kind of monologue, and any
response Aissatou might offer exists only beyond the page.

How the Epistolary Form Impacts Readers

1. Creates a Personal and Intimate Reading Experience
• Readers feel like confidants rather than just observers.
• The first-person, letter format draws them into Ramatoulaye’s emotions, making her
pain, struggles, and resilience feel deeply personal.
• It feels like reading a real letter from a close friend, which makes the story more
relatable.

2. Encourages Empathy and Emotional Engagement

• Since readers see the world through Ramatoulaye’s unfiltered thoughts, they connect
deeply with her experiences.
• Her raw emotions—grief, betrayal, love, and hope—become more impactful and
immersive.
• Readers may reflect on their own lives and relate to themes of loss, independence, or
societal expectations.

3. Enhances Realism and Authenticity

• The letter format makes the story feel real, as if Ramatoulaye is a real person sharing
her life story.
• Unlike traditional novels, where events are narrated objectively, here the storytelling
feels direct and unfiltered, making it more believable.
• This realism deepens reader investment in the novel’s themes.

4. Encourages Self-Reflection
• The novel’s meditative and reflective tone prompts readers to question societal norms,
gender roles, and personal choices.
• Ramatoulaye’s dilemmas make readers evaluate their own beliefs about marriage,
polygamy, and women’s independence.
• It is not just a story but a catalyst for thought-provoking discussions about culture and
tradition.

5. Builds Suspense and Curiosity

• Since letters are written after events have occurred, readers experience gradual
revelations rather than immediate exposition.
• The non-linear storytelling makes them curious to know what happened in
Ramatoulaye’s past and how she arrived at her present situation.
• This keeps them engaged and emotionally invested in her journey.

6. Highlights the Power of Female Solidarity

• The letter is addressed to Aissatou, emphasizing the importance of female friendship
and support.
• Readers witness how women uplift each other even when physically apart.
• This theme resonates with many readers, especially women who have faced similar
struggles.
7. Strengthens the Novel’s Themes
• The act of writing the letter itself is symbolic—it represents Ramatoulaye’s agency and
resilience in a society that tries to silence women.
• Readers see how storytelling and communication give power to marginalized voices.
• The personal nature of the letter makes themes of love, betrayal, and empowerment
feel more profound.