Son of Woman

When did you last read a popular urban thriller that kept you edged on your seat for hours on end? If you haven’t done so in months, then you better grasp Son of Woman (1971) by Charles Mangua, a prolific Kenyan writer.

The book is written on a lighter note, exploring the delicacies of crime, urban indigence, and the often deep but rarely fully unexplored subject of prostitution. Part fiction, part biography, Mangua vividly captures the travails of Dodge Kiunyu, born of a whoring mother in the slums of Eastleigh in Nairobi. His life is a living hell, his miseries compounded by his mother’s death, when Dodge is only 11 years old. What is more striking is the mere fact that Dodge doesn’t hide the fact that he is a bastard, born of a prostitute. He is so bitter about this fate and can only but accept life as it is. 

He is taken in by Miriam, his mother’s colleague in the oldest profession. Miriam also has an 11 year old daughter, who despises Dodge with a passion. But for Dodge’s ‘never say die’ attitude, he would have preferred to loiter on the streets rather than stay in a house he is openly unwelcome.

Although, he later goes to a mission school, from whence proceeding to the university, he spends much of his time in jail for an assortment of crimes. What seems pretty annoying is the inability to control his anger and his penchant for picking fights, even with law enforcers. He doesn’t hide the fact that he hates the police with a passion, blaming them for all his suffering.

In this award winning book, Mangua describes each detail, almost with a flaw, despite repetitive clauses that may once in a while appear boring. He openly vents his bitterness on his unfortunate being as a Son of Woman. The emotions, humour, sadness and anger will flow with you and through you right from the onset, from the first person perspective that the book takes. At various levels, the book contains some derogatory wordings, which is only but a societal reflection that will leave a shrilling and thrilling effect on the reader in equal measure.