Stay With Me By Adebayo Ayobami
Let me begin by saying that as a Nigerian-American who was born and raised in the US, I absolutely love novels by Nigerian authors with Nigerian characters. Ayobami Adebayo’s “Stay with Me” was no exception to that. In fact, Adebayo’s portrayal of love, loss, and betrayal on the backdrop of 1980’s Nigeria was a fascinating page-turner. I was immediately drawn in by simply her use of language alone. On only the second page I found myself staring at the page, exclaiming “OK language!” As if that was not enough, the tale of Yejide and her husband, Akinyele, kept me on the edge of my seat for several hours.
Spoiler-Free Review
Yejide and Akinyele met on the campus of the University of Ife at a movie showing in Oduduwa Hall. They fell in love from that day forward and by 1981, they were married and 4 years later, they were still childless. They had both agreed that they were against polygamy even though it was not an uncommon or taboo practice in their culture. Instead, they attempted to remedy their childlessness with consultations from several doctors, healers, vigilant fasting and more drastic measures. Once it becomes increasingly clear that these measures they have taken are not fruitful, Yejide and Akin’s family arrive in their house to introduce a beautiful young woman who Akin has taken to be his second wife. Yejide, understandably, feels completely betrayed by her husband and becomes even more determined than ever to bear a child and prove all her naysayers wrong, but at what cost?
Adebayo does an excellent job of telling this tale through her beautiful prose and the alternating points of view from Akinyele and Yejide. Additionally, the story is paced so perfectly; each key event spaced out perfectly from the last in such a way that readers remain completely immersed in the novel. The character development was…interesting. There were certain actions of a particular character that didn’t quite align with what readers knew of that character but those discrepancies were cleared up before the novel was over so everything made sense in the end. Other than that, I do think the characters were developed very well.
The novel was a refreshing and honest depiction of life as a Yoruba woman. The idea of marriage and child-bearing as a woman’s most important purpose and the pressure to accomplish both to prove one’s usefulness as a woman and a wife. Even the other matriarchs of the novel – Iya Martha, Iya Bolu, and Akin’s mother – all fulfilled the roles of the Yoruba mothers and aunties with an accuracy that made them understandable to readers even if we did not agree with their actions or words.
This novel really pushes the envelope to explore the question of how much one would sacrifice to save one’s marriage, family, and self. Yejide and Akinyele’s story also explores the line between tradition and modern customs: where the two agree, where they clash, and how strict adherence to the former can sometimes be detrimental.
Lastly, Adebayo uses this story to show readers how strict ideas of masculinity and femininity lead to pride and secrecy that ultimately destroys our protagonists.
SPOILER ALERT: DO NOT PROCEED IF YOU HAVE NOT READ THE BOOK
Originally, I thought Yejide was cursed from the moment she went to the Mountain of Jaw-Dropping Miracles. After all, a bunch of moaning men in green robes do not have the power to dole out miracles, only God does. I really believed everything she suffered after that day was her own doing. Even when her belly began to swell for the first time, I thought she had to be carrying the devil’s baby because what happened at the mountain was obviously some type of witchcraft. Being as Nigerian as I am, I knew something was up the second she started professing her pregnancy to the whole world only days after visiting the mountain. She hadn’t even seen a doctor confirm yet! No Yoruba woman that I know is that open with such good news especially after being childless for so long. Nonetheless, all the signs of Akinyele’s dishonesty were present: his continuous denial of her pregnancy as if he did not want her to bear children as well and his treatment of her like she was crazy. A year later when it was clear that Yejide was, in fact, without a child, I was left wondering how Akin knew so early on – even amidst her symptoms and swollen belly – that she could not possibly be carrying his child. This, of course, made complete sense in the end when it was revealed that he could not get an erection. I must say, I never saw that coming. Just as I never foresaw him pushing Funmilayo, his second wife, down the stairs and killing her. However, once I learned that Akin was the one preventing Yejide from having the children she wanted so dearly and that he sat as his family and others shamed Yejide as if she was the cause, I no longer blamed Yejide for going to that mountain; it was clear to me that Akinyele was the cause of everyone’s suffering in this novel. From his mother to Yejide, Dotun, and their children, Akinyele was to blame for all the hurt he caused them.
As good a person as he seemed, Akin let his pride and his idea of masculinity pretty much destroy his family. In a culture where perceptions of masculinity and femininity are so rigid, it would have been completely emasculating and disgraceful for people to know that he was unable to use what Iya Bolu and Yejide’s customer, Aunty Sadia, called his “hard thing.” That is understandable, but keeping that secret from his own wife and mother, having his brother seduce his wife to help her conceive and further conceal this secret, “accidentally” killing Funmi after she uncovers his secret, and watching his family suffer through the death of 2 children knowing that he is the cause, that is not understandable. It just goes to show how such strict ideas of masculinity can unravel a person.
Likewise, the idea that Yejide’s identity as a woman was attached to her ability to bear children was heavily perpetuated by her stepmothers and her mother-in-law who said to her, “Woman manufacture children and if you can’t you are just a man. Nobody should call you a woman.” That line alone shows the pressure that many women in the Yoruba culture are under to bear children. Coupled with Yejide’s own motherlessness, she was absolutely desperate to bear a child to not only shut the lips of those who shamed her but also have someone in this world to call her own no matter the cost.
After the first two children died, I did not expect Yejide to have another child but she did. Rotimi, meaning “stay with me” in Yoruba, was the third and final child and the closest thing to a happy ending that there was in this novel. It is not clear how long she lived but when the novel ends she is about 15 years old and finally reuniting with her mother since Yejide left her and Akin so many years ago. While I was happy to see that Rotimi was alive, I couldn’t help but wonder a few things. First, did Yejide and Akinyele get back together? Second, did Akinyele ever tell his mom the truth of what happened? I guess it would be shameful to reveal that his wife had slept with his brother to conceive all the three children that Moomi believed were Akin’s offspring. I also wonder if Akin ever revealed the truth behind Funmi’s death. Even without revealing his impotency, he could have told Yejide, Moomi, and maybe even Funmi’s family that he killed her (even if it was an accident). Lastly, did Akin do anything to dispel the rumors that Yejide was to blame for the quarrel between him and his brother? Again, I recognize that dispelling those rumors would require telling the truth which would now not only be shameful for Akin but also for Yejide because it would reveal that she cheated on her husband with her brother-in-law. Therefore, it seems most likely that the secret of Akin’s impotency remained between him, Yejide, and Dotun. Nonetheless, I was satisfied with the ending for the simple fact that Dotun and Akin were able to hug and settle their quarrel (even if it was just for their parent’s sake) and that Rotimi lived and welcomed Yejide as her mother rather than resenting her for leaving.
Despite the semi-open ended nature of the novel, I thoroughly enjoyed it and would 100% recommend to anyone interested in Nigerian literature or anyone simply looking for a good read. Its fast pace, intricate prose, heart-wrenching plot, and humorous undertones are sure to keep any reader emotionally and mentally invested long after the final page is flipped.
