Tales of Resilience: Stories from Rural Life

By Dr. Nèma Diakité

In my stories, we encounter the sorrows that often go unspoken. The stories pull back the curtain on the realities faced by women and girls in rural areas, where access to education, healthcare, and economic opportunities can be limited. They shed light on the unequal burdens women bear and the strength it takes to carry them. But within the pages of these tales, there is also hope. The book is not just about despair; it is about resilience. It showcases the wisdom passed down from mothers to daughters, the rituals that bind communities, and the courage to challenge the status quo.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Oct 23, 2023
• ISBN: 9798369407721

Dr. Nèma Diakité

Dr. Nèma Diakite is a researcher from the University Felix Houphouet Boigny of Cocody in Ivory Coast. She hold a Ph.D in Literature and Civilization of African English-speaking Countries. Her focus areas are African Literature, women’s leadership, and improving women’s lives in rural communities. She has worked in an international school for 10 years as an English teacher and Cambridge Speaking Examiner. She also received a CELTA certification from Stafford House London which provides her with the practical experience and technique required to develop her teaching skills. Nèma conducts women’s workshops and writes articles about gender issues, social barriers and women's empowerment. She runs a non profit organization African Women Leaders which provides knowledge to women to overcome illiteracy and gender inequality. Nèma attended the university of Kansas and Penn State College in Pennsylvania. She participates in the Humphrey program to develop her professional and leadership skills, because in the future she is planning to work with the Ministry of Women and Children in her country to set up a network that supports, empowers, and connects Ivorian women leaders.

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Copyright © 2023 by Dr. Nèma Diakité.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models,

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Rev. date: 01/11/2024

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CONTENTS

Acknowledgments

Chapter 1 Biba’s Loneliness

Chapter 2 The Birth Certificate

Chapter 3 Omar and Bintou

Chapter 4 I Don’t Understand their Language

Chapter 5 Mother’s Love

Chapter 6 Goodbye, Kummba!

Chapter 7 The Four Sisters

For My Mother Anne Coulibaly

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

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I would like to extend my gratitude to all those who have played a crucial role in making this collection of short stories a reality. Writing this book has been a labor of love, and I could not have done it without the unwavering support and assistance of the following individuals and groups:

To my family, who have always been my biggest cheerleaders and sources of inspiration. Your love, encouragement, and patience have sustained me throughout this journey. Thank you for believing in me.

To my friends, who have been a constant source of encouragement and motivation. Your feedback, late-night conversations, and unwavering belief in my writing abilities have been invaluable.

A heartfelt thank you to my editor Xlibris who provided invaluable insights, suggestions, and constructive criticism to refine these stories. Your keen eye for detail and dedication to improving my work made this collection stronger.

I am grateful to Prof. Louis Obou, Dr. Jennifer, Dr. Marta Carvajal, Dr. Marchelino, and Marina for their guidance, mentorship, and the wisdom they have shared with me over the years. Your expertise has been instrumental in my growth as a writer.

I am also thankful to Felix Houphouët Boigny University, Kansas University, Penn State University, IIE, ISP, and the United States Embassy in Ivory Coast for their support and assistance.

To the dedicated professionals at Xlibris who believed in the potential of these stories and worked tirelessly to bring them to a wider audience. Your commitment to the craft of storytelling is commendable.

Finally, I extend my deepest appreciation to the readers who have picked up this book. Your support is the reason I write, and I hope these stories resonate with you on a personal level.

Writing is a collaborative endeavor, and I am blessed to have a network of incredible individuals who have contributed to this collection in various ways. This book is as much yours as it is mine.

Thank you all for being a part of this literary journey.

1

BIBA’S LONELINESS

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I n the quiet moments of my childhood, when the world outside seemed distant and unexplored, my mother’s words would often resonate in my ears like a cherished lullaby. She had her own set of beliefs, her wisdom rooted deep in the traditions of our family, passed down from one generation of women to the next. My mother’s advice was a gentle yet persistent refrain: My dear, speaking in public is something you must avoid. It brings bad luck, you see. Those were the words she imparted to me with a loving yet solemn expression on her face. It was as if she carried the weight of generations of women who had adhered to this unspoken rule.

To her, a woman’s grace lay in her ability to maintain composure, to be the calming presence in a world that could be chaotic and unpredictable. She believed that by allowing men to take the lead in public discourse, a woman could preserve her dignity and, in a way, shield herself from the trials and tribulations of the outside world. My mother’s lessons were not just about words; they were woven into the very fabric of our daily life. I would watch her, a paragon of grace and restraint, as she navigated the intricacies of our family gatherings. She would listen attentively, her eyes filled with understanding, as the men engaged in animated debates and discussions, while the women exchanged knowing glances and whispered among themselves.

As a child, I often wondered about the women of our family, who were bound by this unspoken code of silence in public spaces. They were the keepers of secrets, the guardians of our family’s traditions, and the silent observers of a world that often marginalized their voices. But there was a rebel in our midst, a woman whose spirit defied the conventions that had bound us for generations. Her name was Biba, a young woman who dared to openly express herself and challenge the stereotypical judgments that surrounded us.

Biba possessed a beauty that was as striking, as it was unconventional. Her legs were like those of a graceful gazelle, her eyes carried the depth of a doe’s gaze, and her hips possessed an allure that was impossible to ignore. Many men desired her, drawn to her beauty like moths to a flame. Yet they hesitated to approach her, restrained by the unspoken rules that governed our society. The women in our neighborhood criticized Biba for her open-mindedness, for her willingness to challenge the status quo. They feared that her defiance would cast a shadow of rebellion upon her, making her undesirable to potential suitors. In their eyes, Biba was a deviation from the norm, a woman who had dared to step out of line.

As I observed Biba, I could not help but admire her courage. She was herself, unafraid of the labels and judgments that others cast upon her. She seemed to possess a strength that defied tradition, a resilience that allowed her to walk a path less traveled. In the quiet moments of introspection, I found myself torn between the lessons of my mother and the example set by Biba. I questioned the wisdom of adhering blindly to tradition, of silencing the voices of women who had so much to offer to the world.

Little did I know that the clash between tradition and rebellion, between the old ways and the new, would come to define my own journey. And as I grew older, I would come to realize that the lessons of my mother and the spirit of Biba would shape the woman I would become.

The name of my village is Kefe, situated in the northern region of Ivory Coast. Visitors from faraway places were entranced by the elaborate masks worn by the villagers, the lively paintings gracing their homes, and the expert craftsmanship evident in the traditional fabrics, each thread telling tales of generations long past.

However, amid these exceptional art forms, there was a singular enchantment that mesmerized both travelers and villagers alike - the captivating allure of their moonlit nights. Each evening, as the sun set and darkness descended, the village was bathed in a soft, silvery radiance,