Book Review of A Place Called Maybe by Damilola Makinde - Spoiler Alert*

A Place Called Maybe by Damilola Makinde is a book that can substitute its title for In-Between the Lines, Unspoken, or Necessary Lies. At the conclusion of the book, I could only feel the pleasure of being able to watch the lives and journey of these fictional characters, Akin and Sade, who realized that the quest for a better life may come at the cost of choosing a completely different life and being prepared for all that comes with it.

It was a simple story, told with the precision of a realistic touch. Akin, influenced by the return of his rich old school friend who made it big in America, got obsessed with the dollar-earning life that he carefully curated a Japa plan that would involve years of obtaining his green card, leaving his wife and child behind whilst falling into the arms of Trina, a woman obsessed with him.

His wife at home, whilst faithfully raising their son, finally took the faith out of faithful to welcome Kunle into her life after her dollar-seeking husband had called her for a simple favor — a divorce and the permission to marry the woman obsessed with him.

Now Akin had Trina, And Sade had Kunle.

Why did Akin and Sade still need each other? Michael, their child? Their promised plan? Their reputation in society and expectations from people?

The final question that eventually ended their story would be: why are we still holding on when so many things had happened?

All of these work beautifully for the plot, okay? Don’t get me wrong, I love a good book with plenty of conflict, but then there’s me in reality, knowing that women like Sade exist. Women who, by nature and nurture of being Nigerian women, have been wired to believe that there’s a box created for them that they must never step out of. And that neatly maintained box is a symbol of honor, respect, and loyalty. It broke my heart watching Sade struggle with the decision of choosing herself and her happiness despite being abandoned and betrayed. Her mind was so clogged with her own betrayal.

Your life was as good as it could be. One person in a union unilaterally made a decision and practically forced you to play along with it. Your own hopes and dreams were kept on pause because your box told you not to step out of your duty. And even after knowing what freedom tastes like — love, acceptance, being seen, wanted, appreciated, and positioned to fulfill your full potential by a man who has shown you what true devotion looks like by always putting you first — when it came down to it, you ran back to the box. The old, rumpled, tiny, ugly, used, and smelly box.

Her actions were true to her established character, and I commend the writer for the consistency in her characterization and how he reached a resolution through her own ways. No sudden screams or kicking. Just a shared knowledge and understanding that there’s shit smelling in the room and we both know it. We might not need to talk about it, but if we hold our breaths just a bit longer, one of us might just give out. In the end, her final decision was still in not choosing and not doing. How limiting is such a life? As a man, I can only imagine.

And I wonder, if Akin had practiced a little bit of such restraint that comes naturally to Nigerian women in a box. If he had chosen not to make his friend’s wealth become the gap of his own. If he had chosen other means that involved him and his family moving and growing together as a unit. If he had chosen other methods of getting working papers abroad, like the path both of his friends had taken and not the ones they advised him to. I wonder if maybe things could’ve been different. If maybe we would’ve still landed at this point where our choices and silence are questioned. Truth is, we might never know, but somehow, in every variation of life and lies, A Place Called Maybe always exists.