BN Book Review: Faith by Itoro Bassey | Review by The BookLady NG

What does it cost children to grow up in the aftermath of their parents’ war? Faith grapples with this question in a poignant and insightful way. Through the eyes of three women, we see how war, societal pressures, and personal tragedies can shape the realities of childhood and make adults out of mere children. At its core, Faith explores the universal human experience of coming into one’s own. With Arit, Uduak and Ekpewan as our guides, we’re taken on a deeply personal journey of growth and self-discovery that will resonate with readers long after the final page.

In the first part of the story, we bear witness to the struggles of Arit, a young girl in the quest of finding herself. She is acutely aware of her peculiarity and it dances off the pages in the way she presses the joy button in a house bent on suffering: “My wild child felt that at any moment she could paint the world the colour of a rainbow and call it a day.” Arit feasts on her inner peace despite the world threatening to deplete her at every turn. She and her siblings are at the receiving end of their father’s viciousness and there is little anyone can do including their mother. Perhaps because Arit glides through her pain like there is no smoother threshold for her nimble feet, her father picks on her endlessly. While wading through her circumstances, an ancestor long dead pays her a visit. 

Uduak, Arit’s mother, is an immigrant in America. Newly wedded and carrying a child, she tries to navigate the next course of her life bearing in mind her grandmother’s advice: “That country will take too much from you and then your stupid husband will collect his own piece, but don’t let them take your name. That is your own.” Uduak is determined to succeed where her husband had failed and this fuel the most difficult decision she makes as a mother and as a woman. She wears her grandmother’s advice like a badge and endeavours to “hear the thing that cannot be heard and see the thing that cannot be seen” Her story reads like a promise that failed, a prayer that went unanswered but regardless, Uduak’s resilience shines through. The mistake she makes is giving her children an unstable father and refusing to fight for them.

Ekpewan is the link between mother and daughter. She is the first and the last, the living and the dead, and an embodiment of two worlds. She oscillates between universes, recounting her existence as a young girl full of promises whose cloud suddenly turns dark. Her young and promising life swiftly becomes a sad explanation and only when it is too late does she wonder if she could have walked away from that life just by opening her eyes to see another one. She wonders, “Had I known I could simply think myself into being, perhaps my human life wouldn’t have been so difficult.” Ekpewan’s life is a consistent display of pain. Right from birth, she has been in the way of the people who are meant to love her and nurture her. With her wings clipped and her dreams dead, there is only one place she can regain them.

Itoro Bassey tests the depth of familial and romantic love in this narrative that reads like a “spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings recollected in tranquillity.” Perhaps the most thrilling experience in reading this story is the way the prose absorbs one completely. It flows continuously through time, space, themes and continents. In the second part of the story, we witness the love Arit releases to her mother intermittently. We see as she swipes through lovers as one swipes through pictures. We are privy to the way she settles into the version of home she carves with Mrs Bamidele. Slowly, she lets us in, providing a mirror for us to see ourselves clearly in her. 

Hinging on personal tragedies that sometimes accompany coming-of-age stories, the story also highlights how parents transfer their battle scars unto their children. There are many ways parents can fail their children and it is not just by being absent in their lives. Sometimes, parents can fail woefully and still be present in their children’s lives. Faith is a typical example of both brands of parental failure. Yet the story is told without judgement, just a testament to the many ways our deep flaws as humans continue to be a part of our stories.  

Through these women’s lives, we partake in the innocence of youth, the brutal way this innocence is taken and the painful transition into adulthood. Bassey gives voice to each character like they are the centre of their lives. The stories of the main characters and what this does for her narrative style is truly impressive. There is no doubt that Faith is one of the stories that would leave readers better than it met them.