Ayo Deforge’s new novel, Under the Rain begins with a scene of sexual disharmony between a man and his wife. That man is Bolaji Akalla and his wife is Yetunde. They have just finished having sex. The man wants to know if his wife enjoyed it, but she reacts with not just nonchalance but a kind of noncommittal trivialisation. And with this, we are introduced to a marriage whose foundations seem to have been erected on shaky ground.
Several revelations in subsequent scenes further reinforce this vision of their marriage: the couple occupy different bedrooms in the house and much of the parenting of their two kids is done by the busier Bolaji.
Burdened with a marriage that is obviously not working, Bolaji spends much of his time reminiscing about a perfect relationship he’d had in the past, lingering ever-so-much on what could’ve been in his previous life before his marriage to Yetunde. The reminiscence excavates a past life littered with several familial and romantic heartbreaks as well as the raison d’etre for the career path he chose as a medical doctor.
Born into a well-to-do polygamous family in which his mother was the first wife, Bolaji’s childhood was affected by his frail only brother, Bamidele, whom he cared deeply about.
The novel then details the adolescent Bolaji’s developing friendship with the girl in the next compound called Shola, though this portrayal is marred by the kind of narrative flaw one can only put down to a lack of patience with material on the author’s part. That friendship was really love at first sight, as the author would have us believe.
Over the years, that adolescent love would gradually coalesce into an adult relationship between Bolaji and Shola, whose love, we are told, grew even stronger as the two matured into university. The relationship, however, ended within a year of it becoming official. The culprit? Keep reading.
Meanwhile, Bolaji’s Sickler brother would die on the cusp of his teenage years – a death that deeply affected Bolaji and led him down the path of studying medicine in the university. Providence, as it were, has other plans – or, if you will, has something to reveal about Bolaji’s genetic relationship to his brother. The endpoint, which Bolaji describes as “a second death”, was that he and Shola cannot repeat the same mistake his parents made which led to the birth of the short-lived Bamidele. Thus, the lovers drifted apart, married other people, and moved thousands of miles away from each other.
Struggling to find fulfillment in their respective marriages, they would rekindle the spark again via a chance meeting that occurs years later. This re-acquaintance places their two separate worlds, the independent lives they’ve built with others, in jeopardy. And for those reasons, they must confront what is important to them and what isn’t. What is lost becomes vital to their definition of love and fulfillment.
The novel explores an aspect of the moral barricades that both suspend and upend certain kinds of relationships. While society is clear on marriage as a binding commitment backed by ceremonious rituals and the sanctions and witnessing of society, are there other kinds of commitment between two people that are greater than marriage?
The most pivotal exploration of Under the Rain is its topicalisation of the Sickle Cell disease that shatters lives in Africa. It places that issue in the context of love, but it also weighs its impacts against the background of generational traumas and marriages of convenience, asking the question: Is there really an ultimate remedy to the unsavory results of a racial genetic mutation?
Technically, this novel leaves some of its projected perfection to the realm of the imagination. The story drags at times, weighed down by cliches and over-stretched scenes. One can point to the plot’s many missed opportunities for instance in not exploring in detail the reason for Yetunde’s aversion to sex.
Notwithstanding these issues, Under the Rain’s commentary on the perils of sickle cell anemia in family, love, and romance – an issue with which Africans are well-acquainted -makes sure this novel deserves the audience it would surely find.
***Chimezie Chika is a writer and culture journalist.
