SISTER DEBORAH

The uncanny rise of a feminist cult.

Award-winning French Rwandan novelist Mukasonga evokes her country’s tumultuous history in a lyrical, allegorical narrative, translated by Polizzotti, set in the 1930s, when white Catholic missionaries proselytized to a population already steeped in myths. Into the restive Belgian colony a contingent of Black evangelicals arrived from America, “an unknown world,” Rwandans believed, “where the Blacks were as powerful as the Whites.” Central among them was Sister Deborah, whose reputation as a healer excited the community, reaching the mother of Ikirezi, Mukasonga’s narrator. Ikirezi was a sickly child whose ailments, her mother was certain, “came from either people or spirits.” Sister Deborah both healed and inspired Ikirezi; after earning a doctorate in anthropology at Howard University, she became an “eminent Africanist,” returning to her village to investigate the woman who so deeply affected her life. Sister Deborah, Ikirezi discovers, preached liberation: a celestial woman would descend on a cloud, scattering “a marvelous seed that would yield abundant harvests without the need for farming, thereby ending the servitude in which women were mired.” In preparation for this great coming, women must carry out a revolutionary plan: “uprooting the cursed coffee plants, chasing away the agronomists with their stupid boots, scattering the medallions of the tax collectors and missionaries.” Fearing the spread of a rebellious cult, the army intervened. Chaos ensued, and Sister Deborah may or may not have been killed, may or may not have reinvented herself as Mama Nganga, and may or may not have finally been burned to death in a fiery rout. Ikirezi’s fate, too, is unsettled: Told she will give birth to the Messiah, she flees Rwanda, knowing in her heart that “spirits never come when you expect them.”

A haunting tale.