u/Jollofandbooks

When I think about slavery, I often think of the transatlantic slave trade, the one fueled and expanded by Europeans, Arabs, and other foreign powers. I rarely think about internal slavery within Africa itself, which, in my opinion, was just as horrifying, if not more disturbing in some ways. Because how do you participate in the trade of people who look like you, speak your language, share your culture, and live like you? Not that any of those things justify slavery, but after witnessing or hearing about the horrors of the transatlantic slave trade, how do you turn around and do the same to your own people?

Wurche, one of the main female characters, explains this contradiction perfectly around page 102, even though, ironically, she eventually becomes no better than the people she criticizes.

The Hundred Wells of Salaga is told through the POVs of two girls who grow into women: Aminah and Wurche, two girls from vastly different social classes.

Wurche comes from a royal family, while Aminah is considered a “commoner.” Still, Aminah’s life seemed relatively stable at first because her father held an important position in their community. But once he left on a journey and never returned, everything fell apart. Her village was raided, and Aminah, along with her siblings Hassana, Hussaina, and her stepbrother Issa, were captured and sold into slavery.

Their journey was heartbreaking. The way Issa died and was simply “disposed of,” and how Aminah’s attempt to save her mother, Na, and the newborn may have contributed to their deaths… such a gruesome story.

Wurche, on the other hand, lived a much easier life materially, though her struggles came from being a woman in a society where women were denied power and agency. Even saying that feels like an oversimplification because her character had many layers.

I’m generally not a huge fan of historical fiction, and this book was honestly difficult to follow at first. It felt like I was getting a crash course on the history of the Gold Coast (modern-day Ghana). But once I settled into the flow of the story, it became such a rewarding read.

What struck me most was learning more about internal slave trade within Africa, not just slavery tied to war captives, but organized systems of buying and selling people. It opened up conversations for me because I was genuinely disturbed by some of what I learned.

I also found it interesting how the book indirectly suggested that Islam reached parts of West Africa long before Christianity, especially through the Hausa characters featured throughout the story. That detail really stood out to me.

Overall, this was a great read. It opened my eyes to a part of African history I knew very little about.

When I think about slavery, I often think of the transatlantic slave trade, the one fueled and expanded by Europeans, Arabs, and other foreign powers. I rarely think about internal slavery within Africa itself, which, in my opinion, was just as horrifying, if not more disturbing in some ways. Because how do you participate in the trade of people who look like you, speak your language, share your culture, and live like you? Not that any of those things justify slavery, but after witnessing or hearing about the horrors of the transatlantic slave trade, how do you turn around and do the same to your own people?

Wurche, one of the main female characters, explains this contradiction perfectly around page 102, even though, ironically, she eventually becomes no better than the people she criticizes.

The Hundred Wells of Salaga is told through the POVs of two girls who grow into women: Aminah and Wurche, two girls from vastly different social classes.

Wurche comes from a royal family, while Aminah is considered a “commoner.” Still, Aminah’s life seemed relatively stable at first because her father held an important position in their community. But once he left on a journey and never returned, everything fell apart. Her village was raided, and Aminah, along with her siblings Hassana, Hussaina, and her stepbrother Issa, were captured and sold into slavery.

Their journey was heartbreaking. The way Issa died and was simply “disposed of,” and how Aminah’s attempt to save her mother, Na, and the newborn may have contributed to their deaths… such a gruesome story.

Wurche, on the other hand, lived a much easier life materially, though her struggles came from being a woman in a society where women were denied power and agency. Even saying that feels like an oversimplification because her character had many layers.

I’m generally not a huge fan of historical fiction, and this book was honestly difficult to follow at first. It felt like I was getting a crash course on the history of the Gold Coast (modern-day Ghana). But once I settled into the flow of the story, it became such a rewarding read.

What struck me most was learning more about internal slave trade within Africa, not just slavery tied to war captives, but organized systems of buying and selling people. It opened up conversations for me because I was genuinely disturbed by some of what I learned.

I also found it interesting how the book indirectly suggested that Islam reached parts of West Africa long before Christianity, especially through the Hausa characters featured throughout the story. That detail really stood out to me.

Overall, this was a great read. It opened my eyes to a part of African history I knew very little about.

Everything Is Not Enough follows three main female characters, Yasmiin, Brittany, and Kemi, all Black women living in Stockholm but coming from very different backgrounds and living very different lives, different tax brackets even.

I randomly picked up this book from my shelf right before my trip to the Scandinavian countries, Sweden included, so it felt like such a lucky coincidence to read about places I would later walk through and experience myself. At the time, I also didn’t realize this book was actually a sequel to In Every Mirror She’s Black… which has been sitting unread on my shelf all this time 🥲.

Back to the review. The three women, Kemi (Nigerian), Yasmiin (Somalian), and Brittany (African American), all navigate life differently in Stockholm.

Kemi’s story irritated me so much because she came across as someone deeply unhappy with her life but unwilling to leave the spaces making her unhappy. Her relationship, her job, even aspects of her family life all felt unsatisfactory, yet she stayed. Through her story, I also learned the Swedish term “sambo,” which basically refers to a long-term partner you live with without being married, and that was clearly the direction her relationship with Tobias was heading.

Brittany’s storyline was… hmm. Complicated. She begins to realize her marriage to Johnny may not have been built on genuine love after discovering she looks strikingly similar to Maya, Johnny’s first and only love, and to make matters worse, their daughter was named after her too, something Brittany didn’t even know initially. Imagine finding that out 😭. She spends much of the book trying to escape not just Johnny, but the grip of his powerful Stockholm family as well.

Side note: Kemi also happened to work for Johnny, which added another layer to everything.

Yasmiin’s story was honestly the most painful for me. Escaping Somalia only to end up in Italy working as a sex worker before eventually making her way to Sweden to seek asylum… sigh. Her storyline starts intertwining with Muna’s, and Muna especially is a character I wanted more from. She opens the book with a suicide attempt, and I still don’t feel like I fully understand her journey. I also would have loved to know more about Yasmiin’s life back in Somalia and why her relationship with her mother was strained.

Overall, it was an okay read for me. I struggled a bit getting through it, and honestly, it slightly discouraged me from rushing to read the first book in the series. But one thing I really appreciated was how much it reminded me of my time in Stockholm. Places like Gamla stan popping up in the story made the reading experience more immersive for me, and I also relearned just how big of a deal Midsummer is in Swedish culture.

Everything Is Not Enough follows three main female characters, Yasmiin, Brittany, and Kemi, all Black women living in Stockholm but coming from very different backgrounds and living very different lives, different tax brackets even.

I randomly picked up this book from my shelf right before my trip to the Scandinavian countries, Sweden included, so it felt like such a lucky coincidence to read about places I would later walk through and experience myself. At the time, I also didn’t realize this book was actually a sequel to In Every Mirror She’s Black… which has been sitting unread on my shelf all this time 🥲.

Back to the review. The three women, Kemi (Nigerian), Yasmiin (Somalian), and Brittany (African American), all navigate life differently in Stockholm.

Kemi’s story irritated me so much because she came across as someone deeply unhappy with her life but unwilling to leave the spaces making her unhappy. Her relationship, her job, even aspects of her family life all felt unsatisfactory, yet she stayed. Through her story, I also learned the Swedish term “sambo,” which basically refers to a long-term partner you live with without being married, and that was clearly the direction her relationship with Tobias was heading.

Brittany’s storyline was… hmm. Complicated. She begins to realize her marriage to Johnny may not have been built on genuine love after discovering she looks strikingly similar to Maya, Johnny’s first and only love, and to make matters worse, their daughter was named after her too, something Brittany didn’t even know initially. Imagine finding that out 😭. She spends much of the book trying to escape not just Johnny, but the grip of his powerful Stockholm family as well.

Side note: Kemi also happened to work for Johnny, which added another layer to everything.

Yasmiin’s story was honestly the most painful for me. Escaping Somalia only to end up in Italy working as a sex worker before eventually making her way to Sweden to seek asylum… sigh. Her storyline starts intertwining with Muna’s, and Muna especially is a character I wanted more from. She opens the book with a suicide attempt, and I still don’t feel like I fully understand her journey. I also would have loved to know more about Yasmiin’s life back in Somalia and why her relationship with her mother was strained.

Overall, it was an okay read for me. I struggled a bit getting through it, and honestly, it slightly discouraged me from rushing to read the first book in the series. But one thing I really appreciated was how much it reminded me of my time in Stockholm. Places like Gamla stan popping up in the story made the reading experience more immersive for me, and I also relearned just how big of a deal Midsummer is in Swedish culture.