The Portrayal of Childless Women in African Fiction

At a women’s conference on Saturday, a doctor, and the only male speaker present said ‘women are so important: you are the gateway to life.’ And I immediately thought ‘What about the women who cannot be gateways?’

Those who have had their wombs removed for a reason or the other, those whose hormones refuse to cooperate, those who have hostile wombs, those who are married to infertile men? Are they suddenly less important because they do not push babies out of their vagina or have them cut out from their womb? This is what we’ll talk about today. The representation of women in childless marriages in African fiction, using four Nigerian fictional works. .

This will contain spoilers so if you have not read Stay with Me, The Secret Lives of Baba Segi’s Wives, One Is Enough, and Half of A Yellow Sun, you can skip this one until you have. If you haven’t read those texts but are okay with major spoilers, read on.

First on my list is Stay With Me, by Ayobami Adebayo. This tale is a heartrending portrayal of the plight of a childless couple in Nigeria, Yejide and Akin. One of the striking elements of this novel is the use of other women who stigmatise childless women, in this case, Yejide’s mother-in-law and Yejide’s new co-wife, Funmi. Yejide is verbally abused by her mother-in-law who embodies inherited patriarchal ideologies of what it means to be a woman.

In chapter 5, she tells Yejide that women manufacture children and since Yejide cannot bear one, she is a man. Yejide’s femininity is suddenly under question because she does not conceive. She is reduced to an object of procreation and procreation alone, and because she cannot do this, her accomplishments, her humanity and her integrity are of no value.

Then there is the issue of male infertility and ego. In the novel, Akin is the infertile one, and he knows it, but because of societal pressure and the belief that male fertility is absolute, he not only takes a second wife, but schemes to have someone else impregnate his wife. This is all in a bid to hide his impotence. In this, we see that it is okay for everybody to talk about female infertility (and everyone who had a mouth said what they wanted about his wife’s ‘barrenness’) but once the topic veers towards male infertility, it must be concealed immediately.

In The Secret Lives of Baba Segi’s Wives by Lola Shoneyin, two things stand out for me. The first is Baba Segi’s abusive behaviour towards Bolanle because she does not conceive, and the second is the actions of his three other wives.

Baba Segi is an ogre of a man who believes that the worth of a woman is measured by the activity of her womb. Throughout the story we see him antagonise Bolanle every chance he gets because of their childlessness. This verbal attack is not limited to Bolanle, since we see that his other wives get their fair share when he feels they are taking too long to conceive.

Rather than add to her sorrows, you would expect that a husband understands the societal pressures on childless women and comfort his wife when she suffers from this (even if he haughtily assumes it is her fault). But then again, what do you expect from a man who already has three wives who condone this attitude?

Baba Segi’s wives are part of the problem we have in society today—women bending over backwards to protect a man’s image (and an undeserving one at that) while tormenting a fellow woman who is already suffering on account of said man. The hold of the patriarchal system in Nigeria is so strong that even when it becomes toxic, some women conform to it and propagate the mistreatment of other women.

Through their silence, Baba Segi’s wives are complicit in the pain Bolanle goes through. They would rather protect their husband from ridicule, than protect an innocent woman from the same. Again, this paints a picture that it is okay to point fingers at infertile women but shut our eyes to the possibility of an infertile man.

Baba Segi is not alone in this devilish attitude of tormenting a wife on account of her barrenness. Flora Nwapa’s One Is Enough has Obiora suddenly become verbally and physically abusive towards Amaka after six years of childlessness. The once understanding and loving husband becomes a nightmare to his wife, despite (or rather because of) the fact that she has not changed since they got married. Amaka is still hardworking, still respectful, still supportive, but because of her failure to bear a child, Obiora’s love and regard for her vanishes. In this story, Amaka’s mother-in-law contributes to her torment with disparaging comments strikingly similar to Yejide’s mother-in-law’s. Talk about being cut from the same cloth.

Finally, Half of A Yellow Sun by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie. I like how Chimamanda gives us a different kind of man, because despite the fact that men like Obiora and Baba Segi exist, there are men who support their wives and protect them from the societal pressures poured on them. These men give me hope for humanity. Olanna faces the usual—ridicule, shame, abuse and pity—but has a partner who is supportive through it all. Unfortunately, the bitter taste of infertility still rears its head when Odenigbo disappoints us by sleeping with the village girl, Amala.

I guess we can never have it all, huh?

Here’s a few recurrent themes I’ve noticed in these stories.

• Automatically blaming the woman for the infertility. Especially without proof.

• Attacks and stigmatisation against (mainly) the woman from men and women alike.

• Mothers-in-law.

• Infidelity or the addition of a second wife.

• Verbal or physical abuse from the husband.

• Infidelity on the part of the woman to protect her husband from ridicule.

• Depression and loss of purpose and person.

In today’s society, especially in the African clime, childless women suffer from humiliation, stigmatisation, emotional and physical abuse, and consequently mental disturbances like depression.

In Africa, family is one of, if not the most, important structure in a community, and a family is seen as comprising of a man, his wife/wives and their child/children. By this definition, a childless marriage is not a family, which makes childlessness an accepted ground for separation. The family is important and somewhat sacred, but without children, it is not a family, so the man can put his wife away without consequence. To him, of course. The women usually suffer from this.

Women get the short end of the stick in these societies when they are taught, directly or indirectly that their sole purpose on earth is to get married and produce offsprings for their husband. Any other achievements they may have becomes useless when they cannot fulfil this one ‘obligation’.

This sad reality is painted in African fiction to bring awareness and to challenge the status quo. In two of these novels, the women are not even the cause of the couple’s childlessness. This is in sharp contrast to the gross societal misconception that women are the sole cause of childlessness in marriages. Unfortunately, even though the women in these novels are not the cause of their childlessness, they still suffer the most.

This preoccupation with children can be distilled into a desire for immortality. We will all die, yes, but with children, we at least know we live on in some manner, if not by genes and values then by name. And name is carried by sons, by children. And children are carried by women. So, once a woman is unable to carry a child, her husband’s immortality is threatened. This is when you hear things like ‘who will carry my name? Do you want to wipe out our generation? I’m not marrying her because I love her, but because I need a child.’

Honestly, this manner of thinking  is not my immediate concern—the attacks against women who are unable to produce these evolutionary fail-safes is what irks me. And judging from the profuse representation of childless women in African fiction, I’m not the only one who feels this way. The burden on women in childless marriages is just unfair. Not only do these women suffer abuse from relatives and, sometimes, their husbands, they are also subjected to numerous medical check-ups and interventions and unorthodox avenues for solutions usually years before their husbands are even scrutinised.

Don’t get me wrong, men suffer too. Just look at Akin in Stay With Me. There is a societal pressure on men to be virile. I mean, virility is equal to strength, equal to ego, equal to a voice in the society, and to be seen as nonvirile is to be a failure as a man in Nigeria. The issue is that this need to show that they are ‘capable’ and deserving of respect often comes at the detriment of their woman—their expectations, that of their family, their friends, and society at large all heaped on her.

Four books written by four different women at different times and all having strong similarities show that this is truly what goes on in the society. And be honest, you’ve probably heard someone close to you make contemptuous remarks (often disguised as pity) about a childless couple, with empathy for the husband and suspicion toward the woman.

Education on infertility, it’s causes and what it is not (evidence of a cursed, loose or ‘too educated’ woman) will go a long way in alleviating the pain society gives a woman in a childless home.

To start, people need to know that male fertility is not a given. There are different causes of infertility both in males and females and most times they are treatable. Unfortunately, when the infertility is male originating, the woman would’ve gone through so much social and emotional pain before this is realised.

Empathy. Mothers-in-law need to do better. I get so angry when I watch movies or read books where these women who should understand how unfair the world can be to women would be at the forefront of the witch hunt. A grandchild will be good and they may make you feel young again and it may be exciting to hear the laughter of a child in the house, but all you need to do is put yourself in your daughter-in-law’s shoes and see how you feel.

These books, and many more, highlight the struggles of women (and men) in childless marriages and ask that you (the society or relatives) lay off these people. Their childlessness doesn’t take years off your lifespan, neither will them having a baby add years to it. But your undue pressures and damaging comments will take something from them. Their peace, their stability, their mental well-being.

While childbirth is a beautiful thing, it does not define the importance of a woman. Women are important because of so much more than their ability to birth a child.