Set in the tumultuous 2000s of Nigeria’s fourth republic, writer Jumoke Verissimo’s first novel A Small Silence explores a distant intimacy forged between an unlikely pair—a formerly imprisoned activist professor and Desire, a bright young woman determined to know him. Through the eyes of Prof and Desire, the novel moves through major contours of Nigerian political life in the 1990s and 2000s, yet the depictions of vivid activism, political uncertainty, infrastructural precarity, municipal slum demolitions, and vibrant university life and protests resonate with Nigeria’s news headlines today.

The novel begins after a decade of Prof’s imprisonment for political activism during Nigeria’s 1990s military regime, when he is unceremoniously released back into a society where much has changed and moved on without him. Yet much has also remained the same; the familiar daily rhythms of Lagos residents breathe through the streets and university students continue to boldly protest injustice into the 2000s.

Haunted by his years of torture and isolation, Prof finds refuge in the familiar voices in his head and in the darkness of his home, unable to be coaxed back to normal life by his mother and childhood friend, Kayo. Prof’s sworn solitude is interrupted by Desire, a young woman who has been dreaming of Prof since their encounter during the Prof’s activist days and her precarious childhood in the slum of Maroko. This encounter from Prof’s activism against the infamous 1990s slum dwelling demolitions in Lagos impresses in both of their minds and drives Desire to seek Prof upon his release from prison. Together, they sit in the darkness of Prof’s room and grow to know each other through tendrils of conversation and shared silences.

Beyond Desire’s relationship with Prof, Verissimo paints a young woman’s graceful navigation through a childhood wrought by socio-economic struggles, domestic violence, and mental illness, along with her brilliant ascent to university life. Desire’s intimate friendship with her roommate and confidant, Remilekun, and her awkward exploratory encounters with a university classmate, Ireti, are a careful exploration of girlhood and womanhood.

Lagos’ dense vibrancy reaches through the novel’s pages, and street scenes of its neighborhoods like Maroko, Oshodi, and Ojo are felt through the senses: “Against a faded signpost, Desire watched as young boys and girls sold bread, sachet yogurt, biscuits and other sweets about the streets, while men in suits and women in high heels rushed everywhere. There were also streams of school students fooling around and chatting in twos and threes, while the lonesome ones dragged along looking lost….Car honks belted out an incongruous tune that travelled into her eardrums, beating the sanity from her head.” Verissimo’s characters wittily banter in pidgin, Yoruba, and English, while acutely observing and experiencing Lagos’ material and metaphorical deterioration as they traverse the Nigerian megacity.

Although life continued and political regimes have changed since the Professor was imprisoned, the cyclical tides of Nigerian politics and dissent are relentless. Prof and Desire’s personal story lines intersect with major contours of Nigerian political life in the 1990s and 2000s. Although the novel is set between the early 2000s with flashbacks to the 1990s, the political dissidents, historical psychic trauma, slum demolitions, and disillusioned university student protestors featured in the novel certainly strike a chord as Nigeria continues into over twenty years of its fourth republic today. Old generations of activists give way to new ones, whose slogans eerily echo the past. Through all this, friendships and companionships grow and change everyone, however unresolved.

A Small Silence asks readers to consider how darkness serves as a space of refuge and how silence can be a space of generosity. As one of the voices in Prof’s head reminds him, “Home is where your body settles even in the dark.” In the darkness, time appears suspended, and Desire and Prof can truly listen to each other’s voices without other distractions. In the darkness, it does not matter that power outages are a constant fixture in Nigerian daily life. As Kayo, Prof’s childhood friend notes about the transition to privatized electricity, “We have gone from ‘Never Expect Power Always’ to ‘Problem Has Changed Name.’ ” Through a series of flashbacks, we also learn that darkness was Prof’s only rest between torture sessions during imprisonment. Yet as much as darkness and silence are able to comfort and nurture a relationship, they also ultimately obscure as much as illuminate. The same darkness that enabled a fruitful companionship also left too much to the imagination; ultimately when the lights are on, it is difficult to face what was there all along.