This captivating and tender story begins in 1989 in West African Mali, home to Timbuktu, the medieval center of Islamic learning, and to the fabled 13th-century kingdom of benevolent King Sundiata Keita, upon whose life "The Lion King" was based. In Mali's southeastern region, which contains the village of Nampossela, women have one of the highest fertility rates in sub-Saharan Africa, along with one of the highest maternity-mortality ratios in the world. Kris Holloway was a Peace Corps volunteer from the Midwest, ready for adventure and ready to make a difference. When she joined the Corps, she knew nothing of Mali or of the friend she would find. "I also didn't know the immensity of the sky when there is nothing to tarnish its glory . . . Nor did I know that my friendship with Monique would continue long after my service was over and that I would return to Mali, after eight years away, to mourn her death in childbirth. Or that I would write a book about our friendship, about her life, and about women's ancient struggles and abiding strengths. I couldn't have known any of this, for all I had was a slip of paper, an invitation to join, a sliver of promise."
With that promise, she goes to Nampossela to work with its 1,400 inhabitants, and with Monique Dembele, the midwife and sole health care worker. Monique was 24 when Kris came to the village, and this is what she had to work with to oversee childbirth: a folded square of cotton cloth, a dented trunk serving as a supply cabinet, a medical kit and a frayed birth ledger. Even so, she succeeded as midwife. The dùgùtigi--chief of the village--tells Kris that some women won't go to Monique because of her young age; however, "the truth is this: those who give birth with Monique find a baby; and those who do not sometimes lose a baby." She had no vaccines for the villagers, because there was no generator, thus no refrigeration. One of the successes of Kris' time in Nampossela was building a new birthing house; another was getting funding for birth control pills from World Vision.
There is so much to appreciate and enjoy in this book--the anthropological aspects; the warm friendship between Kris and Monique; the insights into village life and people; the description of Peace Corps life, often laced with rueful humor: "Low plants stretched out in long rows. They were so green and bright, so positively eager to be stripped of their seed. But that did not make up for my inexperience." Above all, Holloway's book is a portrait of Monique--intelligent, lively, and generous--and their gift of friendship. Monique works at everything a woman typically does plus her medical duties. Her husband, François, gets her salary, which is typical in Mali. "Without me, he would not find his radio, his jeans, and the moped. Without me, he would find nothing." She calls him only le gars, the guy. There was always unease between them, and indeed, he is an arrogant layabout. If she had known his character, she never would have agreed to marry him. But she perseveres, caring for her son, Basil, cooking for her husband's family, teaching women how to prepare baby food and re-hydration drinks, tending to injuries and illness and delivering babies. When heartbreak strikes, she has only Kris to confide in. "Her life demanded that her grief reside within her. Outside these walls, her wound could never be revealed--the rhythm of custom and duty its balm and its cloak."
Monique and the Mango Rains is a plainly-written book, in perfect style for the subject, threaded with austere elegance: "Light from the waxing moon shimmered on the straw of the village roofs and washed over the ground . . . The sky was clean." It is a story of generosity and grace, of a friendship embodied by the mango rains, the small rains that come when the earth is dry to sweeten the fruit.--Marilyn Dahl