Interview with Bisi Adjapon: author of of Women and Frogs
Ope Adedeji
The first thing that came to mind when I picked up Of Women and Frogs on the second day of the Ake Arts and Book Festival, was the animated Disney film, The Princess and the Frog loosely based on the novel, The Frog Princess by E.D. Baker. Briefly, I wondered what it was with women and frogs. As soon as I started reading though, I couldn’t stop. The book is more than frogs and far more entertaining than kissing a frog who is really a prince. The book chronicles the story of Esi, a feisty half-Nigerian girl growing up in post-colonial Ghana, with occasional visits to her maternal family in Lagos. When curiosity about her body leads to a ginger-in-the-vagina punishment from her stepmother, Esi begins to question the hypocrisy of the adults around her who place restrictions on her just because she is a girl.
Bisi Adjapon’s writings have appeared in journals and newspapers including McSweeney’s Quarterly, Washington Times, Daily Graphic and Chicken Bones. She founded and ran The Young Shakespeare company for four years in America. Her short story, the short story version of Of Women and Frogs was nominated for the Caine Prize by Dave Eggers. Her black and white art work sit in prominent homes in America. As an International Affairs Specialist for the U.S. Foreign Agricultural Service, she won the Civil Rights Award for Human Relations, and a Strategic Objective Award for her work on the Norman Borlaug Capacity Building Fellows targeting women in developing countries. She holds degrees in French and Spanish and has worked in several embassies, taught and managed projects in Costa Rica, Mexico, South Africa and Ghana. Until recently, she was a language instructor at the Diplomatic Language School in Virginia. Currently, she divides her time between Ghana and America.
This Interview took place via email between Ghana and Nigeria. On the first day, Bisi Adjapon in Ghana was at her friend’s house, in a spacious living room with arches all around painted a pale yellow. She sat on a plush blue couch, sipping iced pineapple juice with ginger. On the second day, she stayed at home in her cozy living room, surrounded by purple hibiscus, the walls covered with colorful figure paintings, books on the floor. Over the course of the two days, I sat in front of my computer in my purple room and later in a car driving past Lagos traffic under the setting Lagos sun. The interview took place in December 2018, so any and all references to ‘this year’ are references to 2018.
Ope: Of Women and Frogs is one of the best books I read this year and I’m really excited about it. One of the many things that struck me was the voice of the narrator, Esi. It was strong and had a life of its own. I found it particularly honest and authentic, especially in the way the voice grew as the protagonist got older. I’m very curious as to how you were able to achieve this. How could you navigate writing with the voice of a child, which I feel isn’t often done quite well, and maintaining that distinct voice as the narrator matured?
Bisi: Wow. First of all, thank you so much for reading. When I started writing from Esi’s point of view, I made up my mind that I was going to make her raw and honest, because she was a child. Children have a primal truthfulness I adore. When a little boy asked me where babies came from and I mentioned a special hole in a woman’s body, he sat up and said, “Can I see it?” I wanted that kind of raw honesty in Esi about everything. I myself am a little like Esi. As she went through different ages, I made a conscious decision to keep her honest. That meant conflict with questionable tradition. But her vocabulary had to change with age. My experience teaching precocious kids as young as five and students in their twenties helped. I would think of Esi’s age and alter her vocabulary. Thus, as a child she refers to her vagina as a pawpaw because kids relate easily to food, but in her teens, she coins a new vocabulary for sexual feelings which are different from those of an unawaken child. In her university years, her literary studies demand an elevated vocabulary worthy of her intellect, even while she remains true to her core. I guess I fell in love with her and didn’t want her to change.
Ope: I think that’s a fantastic approach to it. I’m happy that you mention being a little like Esi because while reading, I just kept wondering how much of it was fiction and if at all it was autobiographical — I felt it was, am I right? And to what extent?
Bisi: Some parts are autobiographical. I am half Nigerian. My own mother died under mysterious circumstances that are still frustratingly unresolved. I attended Wesley Girls, University of Ghana and University of Dakar. Like Esi, I adored my father and enjoyed a close relationship with him. That’s where the similarity between Esi and me ends. I experienced none of the brutality of military regimes. I have six sisters and five brothers. I never had ginger in the vagina. My stepmother was the kind few children were lucky to dream of. Most of the scenes are completely imagined. I also researched history. But I have to say I wanted Esi to be the kind of person I wanted as a friend. :)
Ope: Speaking of research, I really liked how you wrote about Ghana, you gave your readers a picture of what it looks and feels like without doing too much. I also liked the infusion of politics and history. I think this was really beautifully done. In a way, I was reminded of novels like Chimamanda’s Purple Hibiscus and NoViolet’s We Need New Names. What books or authors did you draw inspiration from while writing, and generally as a writer?
Bisi: I love Purple Hibiscus. It’s one of my favorite books. I also enjoyed We Need New Names. I love child narrators, the way their minds work before adulthood ruins them. That old novel, House Boy by Ferdinand Oyono, and Harper Lee’s To Kill a Mockingbird resonate with me. But perhaps the greatest influence on my writing is Mary Karr and Frank McCourt. The Liars’ Club and Angela’s Ashes are two of my favorite books.
Ope: I’m so sorry to hear about your mother, by the way. Esi’s character is quite intriguing, and well-formed, as opposed to a character like Kwabena. It seems like he was relegated to the background, like an artefact simply for aesthetic purposes. We only begin to see more of who he is as they grow older. Was this deliberate? If so, why?
Also coming back to character, you mention that Esi is the kind of person you wanted as friend. I loved her, and felt the same. Was the point to create a relatable & likeable character?
Bisi: Kwabena is a contrast to Esi. He notices everything but prefers to be safe. He chooses to be the kid adults appreciate: quiet and obedient. But he is passive aggressive. Having said that, it’s a flaw in Esi’s personality that she ignores him, especially when he doesn’t fight for her. And yet she herself declares she is the only one who notices the faraway look in his eyes when he hurts. Kwabena is vulnerable, but Esi doesn’t always realize it, so it astounds her when he tells her off later in life. Yes, I wanted Esi to be relatable but imperfect. Above all, I wanted her to be truthful. I am not sure everyone will like her. The point is for her to be real, whether others like her or not
Ope: You’re right about her likeability. I guess I like her a lot because she’s inquisitive & questions everything especially with culture, gender roles and stereotypes. And I find this interesting, the way your novel features themes of sex, gender and feminism. Will you call it a feminist novel? Have these themes and the way in which women survive always been intrinsic in your work?
Bisi: Yes, it’s an unabashedly feminist novel. Mind you, women differ and sometimes quibble on what constitutes feminism. For me, I’ve always found it frustrating that women aren’t weighed with the same scales as men, aren’t excused for misbehaving as men are. It sounds like such a cliché, double standards blah blah blah. That’s the frustrating part. Women have been screaming from towers and rooftops about their rights but people remain deaf. It’s not just men who’ve shut their ears. Some women are enablers. So yes, through Esi, I wanted to add my voice to the din. However, Esi is not a man hater, au contraire. It’s a more nuanced view. She loves the men in her life, even Rudolph.
Ope: Ah yes. On social media and perhaps elsewhere, the activism for women’s rights and gender equality is usually conflated with misandry (and usually by men who want to suppress women’s voices) I like how you cushion and perhaps this isn’t the right word, but you make such serious issues light with humour, a very interesting way of writing. It’s a hilarious book but very balanced. Not once preachy. Did you start off knowing you were going to write it this way?
Bisi: You know, I didn’t consciously start the novel wanting to be delicate about patriarchy. What I knew was that I was going to tackle prickly subjects like abortion and even religion. However, I didn’t want excessive moaning and griping. Sometimes we women don’t give one another the space to differ in our approach to feminism. I find that humour provides balance and allows the reader gulps of relief. I am a bit of a comedian. I can be crying one minute, then catch a reflection of my disfigured face and start laughing. I love injecting comedy into life. We need to be able to laugh at the absurd or be consumed by it.
Ope: I love it! I was at your bookchat at #AkeFest18 and I enjoyed listening to you read. Are there plans for an audio book? That would be really exciting. That’s by the way. I’m really interested in your writing process. Do you have rituals or habits while writing? I once spoke to a writer who drank special teas so he could write. I find that a lot of writers have something they do when they’re writing. Especially with this book, were there rituals? And what was the research process like too?
Bisi: I am thrilled you enjoyed my reading. I love entertaining people :). I’d love to do an audio book. I have to investigate the how-tos. You want to know my writing ritual? I feel like such a fraud, because I have none. I get up in the morning, drink water and maybe have breakfast and try to write. Of all places, I choose the couch, so I don’t last five minutes before I fall on my side sleeping. Then I wake up feeling guilty and promise to do better next time. If I make the mistake of looking at my phone, I am done for until about ten or eleven. Lately I’ve taken to sitting in the garden right after I wake up. It’s working so far. With this book though, I was so absorbed I wrote all morning, then had lunch followed by more writing until it was time for tennis. When I’m enjoying myself, I can’t stop writing.
Ope: Haha. You’re not alone. I have no writing rituals. Coming back to Esi’s childhood, her outspoken nature and the relationship with those around her, I find it very interesting that younger children in this generation are like Esi, they say what they think. I’ve had conversations with people in my generation “millennials” who feel that we were made to shut up, to be less expressive by our parents and other adults. Esi is expressive but the adults around her, from her sisters to Papa want her to be quiet. Especially with your background as a teacher, what do you feel about this desire to keep young people quiet and especially, the hypocrisy of adults?
Bisi: That’s one thing that troubles me, this tendency to shush children. They should be allowed to poke adults with questions, make adults uncomfortable, and adults should give truthful answers. Some hold the view that certain answers are too difficult for kids to comprehend. While that may be true in some instances, there are ways to limit the impact of tragedy and thorny subjects. Of course, there is such a thing as oversharing too. Still, I feel adults should allow children to be inquisitive. Curiosity stimulates the brain and enhances critical thinking. I can’t stress that enough. Children are far more capable of absorbing information than adults. They may not have the cumulative knowledge of grownups, but their brain capacity is high. It’s a travesty to treat them as pets solely to be fed, adored, and played with.
Ope: When you wrote about same sex relationships, and specifically about the young girls in boarding school dating each other, I didn’t notice that they were not heterosexual relationships. It was so beautifully and seamlessly written, unlike most African novels that seem to dwell more on the problems of being homosexual in Africa: laws prohibiting such relationships and family members referring to such relationships as taboos — which isn’t necessarily a bad thing in that such books highlight the problems and difficulties of being queer in Africa. I want to know why you wrote about it like this. Is Ghana different from other African countries in this respect? Is it more open and accepting of same sex relationships? Or you just wanted to write about a natural thing in a natural way? I’m very curious.
Secondly, I want to ask your opinion on protest writing. Must a writer, especially an African writer discuss social issues in their work?
Bisi: Here’s the thing. When I was growing up, playing romance with girls, a practice called supi or suppy, was commonplace. The concept seemed more like a transition period than a permanent one. In other words, one was expected to grow out of it. Adults largely ignored it and just let people be. The idea was that children were fluid and would eventually figure things out. Thus, young people exchanged love letters and some veered into physical exploration with hardly any adult interference. It’s pretty normal, isn’t it? When children are growing up, they tend to prefer people of their own gender. I’ve seen girls at play putting up signs like No Boys Allowed. Ghanaians used to be tolerant of suppies but people are less so nowadays, which is unfortunate. Young people are being guilt-tripped. I think people are afraid of the implications in adulthood. I didn’t want to write a protest novel about that. My first goal was to entertain, and I wanted to portray it in the most natural way a young person would see things without the social noise around him or her.
Homosexuality in adulthood is less tolerated because of the idea of permanence. In other words, the person is never going to change, aie! I think people are even more resentful of the fact that western countries offering aid want to impose laws regarding sexuality on them. However, in Ghana, I have yet to hear of laws punishing people for being gay. Mind you, I have spent the past two decades in America and only moved back last year, so I am no expert.
With regard to protest novels, I just feel writers should pen whatever they want. Writers should be unfettered.
Ope: Thank you for this. In the last part of the book, there are themes of marriage and abortion. Though you’ve just mentioned your first aim was to entertain, I wonder, how important are social issues to you as a writer? And what social issues would you like to explore in your next book. (This is me hoping you’ve got something in the works for us again!)
Bisi: Social issues are important to me as a writer, and where possible, I inject my concerns into my writing. For instance, I blog and also write essays about issues that bother me. But in novels I want to entertain as well as provoke. I try not to let socio-political subjects overwhelm the narrative. The story is paramount.
I am currently working on a novel, Daughter in Exile, set in America about a middle-class Ghanaian who becomes a reluctant undocumented immigrant and a single parent at that, who finds herself in a conservative, nearly all-white church. It’s a more nuanced view of immigration that also explores religiosity versus true religion, race relations and prejudice. I started working on it before Of Women and Frogs that is really an accidental novel. Now I am on the final draft!
Ope: Really looking forward to reading this too. It’s exciting to hear you’re on a final draft so soon after Of Women and Frogs which makes me wonder, as a novelist, how much rewriting do you do? Do you do any rewriting as you read up to the place you left off the day before?
Bisi: I sometimes read a few pages from before I last left off, especially if I am struggling. Other times, I just keep writing from one chapter to the other. But when I don’t write for a few days, I go back and read several chapters and edit before proceeding.
Ope: A lot of writers talk about not being satisfied with their work. It makes me wonder, even now as an accomplished writer, do you sometimes second guess your abilities as a writer? How do you handle criticism about your work? I know some writers will just not read reviews.
Bisi: I’m never satisfied with my work, but I’m learning not to second guess my ability as a writer. I do wonder about the importance of my work, though. I ask myself, why should anyone read my work? When I shared my misgivings with my headmistress before she died, she said, “It’s not about you, it’s about sharing your ideas with the world.” She’s right. Also imagine being heavily pregnant. You have to give birth or else. I can’t not write. It’s the difference between living and dying. It’s not about publishing. It’s bringing to life the stories inside me, using my voice. There’s only one of each of us. We have a right to be heard.
Ope: That’s some piece of advice. One last question, though. What else would you tell younger writers, or a younger version of yourself if you could?
Bisi: Here’s what I’d say to my younger self: keep writing. Don’t wait for validation from publishers. By the way, I love, love your story, Women Who Bleed Colors. When I read that an earlier piece you wrote had been rejected, I was stunned-you write beautifully. Rejection happens to all writers. You didn’t clam up. That’s the same way Of Women and Frogs came to be. I was working on Daughter in Exile at the time and a bit despondent because no one seemed interested in a story centered on immigration. That’s when I met Dave Eggers who asked me to contact him. I wrote the first two chapters of OWAF quickly as a short story, just to show him a sample of my writing. To my surprise, he loved it and asked to see more. A friend sent it to my agent who asked to represent me, leading to the novel I didn’t intend to write. So, I would urge new writers to be bolder, more persistent. Write your truth and no one else’s. I’ll reiterate: there’s only one of you, so use your voice to enrich the diversity in the world. Don’t let anyone or anything stop you.
About the interviewer: Ope Adedeji dreams about bridging the gender equality gap and destroying the patriarchy. She is a lawyer and editor. Her work has appeared on Arts and Africa, Afreada, and Catapult. She was shortlisted for the 2018 Koffi Addo Prize for Creative Nonfiction and is an Artist Managers and Literary Activists fellow. She is an alumni of the 2018 Purple Hibiscus Trust Creative Writing Workshop. If you do not find her reading, you’ll find her writing.
