Reviewed by Connease Warren

At first consideration the title of Tierno Monénembo’s novel The Oldest Orphan seems insufficient in describing the gravity of the 1994 genocide in Rwanda, the novel’s subject matter. Written for a project organized by Fest’Africa, Monénembo’s book, as well as the works of eight other writers, serves as his contribution to “write so as not to forget” the Rwandan genocide. Floating in and out of the national and international consciousness for the last several years, and with at least two major film projects set to be released that tackle the subject, there is a sense that the world—and of course, Rwandans—needs to explore what happened and why, in order to prepare a platform for healing and to ensure this tragedy is never repeated. But a clear documentation of the genocide The Oldest Orphan is not. The only straightforward exploration it offers is in the motivations, psyche, and the stunted and tragically accelerated development of one little boy, Faustin. It is through his voice that we come to intimately understand the horror of the Rwandan genocide. By the novel’s end, its title weighs much heavier than it appears and will reverberate throughout any future contemplation of this tragedy.

The opening pages introduce Faustin who almost immediately reveals he has been sentenced to death. From there, the story almost meanders towards an explanation of what a 15-year-old boy has done that might warrant execution. As if this aspect of the story isn’t compelling or chilling enough, Faustin’s story unfolds against the backdrop of the 1994 genocide or what he refers to as “the events.” Those unfamiliar with or anxious to have the circumstances described or explained might find The Oldest Orphan less than satisfying. Monénembo’s storytelling is anything but direct, and in fact, his mostly fictionalized account blends history and imagination such that without prior knowledge of the facts it is impossible to tell where one ends and the other begins. However, artistic license aside, perhaps that is part of Monénembo’s intent, to compel the reader to learn (and possibly to do) more.

Instead of providing facts, Monénembo takes us on Faustin’s journey. Recounting an exchange with the village witch doctor, Funga, Faustin refuses to flee with him and others of their village despite Funga’s entreaties. Instead, Faustin stubbornly insists on finding his parents who Funga advises him to forget. Immediately, there is an awareness that something terrible has happened. In fact, Monénembo relies heavily on what he doesn’t reveal to provide the novel’s tension.

Going it alone, Faustin is quickly captured by a soldier and taken to a military camp. Once he manages “with superhuman effort” to blurt out his story (which isn’t yet revealed to the reader), he is subsequently treated with kindness and compassion. But so much is in turmoil that Faustin is caught in the whirlwind politics of a country in transition and attempting to recover from a national tragedy. His lot changes and he finds himself, along with scores of other orphans, on the streets of Kigali where he scrounges for survival. Eventually, Faustin aligns himself with a group of other youngsters who live and hustle together, pool their resources and engage in drinking, drugs, and wanton sex with a callousness that belies their pre-teen years. While in Kigali he also meets a benefactor, this benefactor’s siblings, and another supporter, of sorts. Threaded throughout these developments are flashbacks of his time in jail and scenes from his life in the village leading up to “the events.”

Monénembo’s writing is mostly skillful, though there are a few passages meant to provide back-story that lose the natural language flow. This occurs primarily during Faustin and Funga’s accounts of their village, which actually include historically accurate details. However, since The Oldest Orphan is a translation (by Monique Fleury Nagem) perhaps some passages are less stilted in Monénembo’s native French. Another possible explanation is that the author is simply more adept speaking through Faustin’s purely fictional voice than he is mixing this voice with some of the historical facts he has chosen to include.

But Monénembo weaves his story with the ease of a master craftsman. He deftly takes the reader circuitously from beginning to end. The novel is intensely propelled by a desire to know what happened to Faustin and his family during “the events.” Why has Faustin been sentenced to die? And are the two related? We know the answer to the last question; yet the force with which Monénembo casts Faustin’s experience leaves the indelible impression of just how horrific “the events” were; not just for Faustin but for Rwanda and the rest of the world.