Véronique Tadjo

Véronique Tadjo (born 1955) is a writer, poet, novelist, and artist from Côte d'Ivoire. Having lived and worked in many countries within the African continent and diaspora, she feels herself to be pan-African, in a way that is reflected in the subject matter, imagery and allusions of her work.

Quotes

Of course, it is fiction. It’s a style that I like. It’s not a very nice term but it is called faction. So you come from reality and fictionalize it.
- [1] Tadjo spoke on her fiction work in 2022.
I would say that although the monarchy has sometimes been challenged, it is nevertheless firmly rooted in the social fabric.
- [2] Tadjon on Monarchy in 2022.
I have always been fascinated by Nigeria because it is our neighbour. And you have so much to offer. I even wrote a book when I was in Nigeria. I tried to discover as much as I could because you are good with all the arts in Nigeria, traditional, modern and contemporary.
- [3] Tadjo on Nigeria experience in 2022.
People do not necessarily need a sovereign, but they certainly need someone who embodies a higher idea of the nation.
- [4] Tadjo on Sovereign in 2022.
The challenge is that sometimes if you are a writer you might get completely enmeshed. People want you to take sides. When there is a problem they always want you to take sides. I don’t really like it.
- [5] Tadjo on challenges as a writer in 2022.
Many people have mistakenly believed that military coups can have a progressive aspect to them. This is because, in the face of the power grab, the option of legality is no longer possible.
- [6] Tadjo opinion on Military Coup in 2022.
For me, literature is the place for all concerns. It is the act of reading, the act of writing and the act of engaging in deep reflection.
- [7] Tadjo spoke on literature in 2022.
It's only when we work together that we can defeat such threats to humanity. So I think that I would really, really like to see more solidarity within each country and across countries.
- [8] Tadjo on Lessons from Ebola Pandemic in 2021.
African tradition of storytelling which gives me a great freedom of interpretation of our myths and legends, greatly inspires me.
- [9] Tadjo talk about her inspirations in 2017.
I think African Literature is doing very well. It’s got a lot of exposure on the international fair but what is interesting about it is that its looking at different themes, various themes and that makes it more complex and richer.
- [10] Tadjo opinion on African Literature in 2017.
You need to look at the place without emotion to be rational. What does this place have to offer? What does the other place have?.
- [11] Tadjo spoke on places in 2014.
There are many types of documents that influence us, that have their own lives. It is these documents that inform reality, and help us understand by indirect means what happened.
- [12] Tadjo talk about life in 2014.

As The Crow Flies (2001)

We must perform cleansing rites. Make the necessary sacrifices. We must replant our huge trees that have been uprooted, replenish our sacred forests that have been decimated.

You should listen to those whose voices remain unheard although the wisdom they carry is shaped by their closeness to the earth. No refined language but the pace of life at a gallop refashioned outmoded images, well-worn phrases, and ways of thinking that are out of date.

If you want to love ,Do so to the ends of the earth With no shortcuts Do so as the crow flies.

Here there are no griots, only poets. You think that you are leading an extraordinary life and that people see you as you would like them to. You adorn yourself with your writing. It becomes your identity, your bread and butter, and your reason for living. You begin to believe in what people say. You become locked up in your creation, become submerged in words, and sentences suffocate you in the solitude of your retreat. They make you forget the blood and the dust.

I think of my country, far away, and my eyes open beyond space.

As the dream of my country, which obsesses me all the time. I carry it with me all day. At night, it lies next to me, making love to me.

It is definitely a century that hangs its head in shame. Our elders have been called impotent, and we are accused of being ‘limp’…

It is a matter of infrastructure and superstructure. The problem must be analyzed in the specific context of the country. A lot of progress has been made. We are no longer the way we used to be.

He has lodged himself in my heart and I do not know what to do with him. But I do not want to become a bad memory. I feel a richness pervading me. This love for you and for him. Who knows? It may rot with time… or flourish like a hibiscus in full bloom.

We live in a world where we can tell neither head nor tail. We live in a world that jeers at you and proffers insults, an incestuous world that robs you of hope.

...love is the colour of hope. Bitter today, sweet tomorrow. You should not throw away your wealth of tenderness and let the honey-filled caresses dry up. Do not be wicked just to prove who you are, just to expose your wounds to the skies.

Somewhere, a young man wallows in his suffering - his wound so deep he cannot draw a distinction between love and destruction. When he fights, he wounds his adversary like a fighter in search of victory.

You fly to another place. Home, to a big city ofstone. You leave as one does. One alwaysleaves. But you do not know if you will everreturn. I am leaving, I am leaving, will I everreturn? I am leaving you today. Yesterday, Ihad left you
- chp27, p.41

But sometimes I say to myself, ‘There, Afri-cans are fighting, dying and I am doing not h-ing, My life is sheltered in the heart of this cityof stone. I just don’t know, I just don’t know.
- chp87, p.101

We spoke of conquest. We spoke of destruc-tion. We spoke of boredom. And he told mehow he was finding life painful, of his inter-minable languor, and of his feeling of insatiable emptiness
- chp78, p.92

With you I have rediscovered simple words,rediscovered the joy of evenings spent chat-ting, nights spent holding hands, hoping for acity that will not leave behind a bitter taste ofdefeat in the mornings. Maybe together, wewill make it. Please, do not reproach me for unleashing a storm upon this sleepy city, formislaying dreams made of rare pearls and fe-tish gold
- chp91, p.104

I searched for such a long time. At the begin-ning, an image, an ebony-warrior coming fromAzania. Then it was like a three-way mirror re-flecting my past, present and future. I searchedfor you everywhere: in my books, at the cine-ma, within my weaknesses, under the finefolds of my smile
- chp 24, p.39-40

I check to see if there is any mail for me. Stamps from my coun-try. I pick up the newspaper. Here, there is a great dealof talk about South Africa
- Chp87, p.100

Pour libation, summon the gods,utter sacred words, assemble diviners and sorcerers recapture the present, make peace, return to the earth,the spell
- Chp17, p.32- 33

He left his vast country inAfrica. Now he lives in the big city of stone. And it isbetter for him, this exile. An exile where the inhabi-tants have respect for a white stick, where the stateensures his wellbeing and where facilities enable himto read and write
- Chp88, p.102

We spoke of conquest. We spoke of destruction. We spoke of boredom. And hetold me how he was finding life painful, of his inter-minable languor, and of his feeling of insatiable emp-tiness.
- Chp78, p.92

In the Company of Men (2017)

We were here to last. We were here to spread our shade over the remotest lands. We were here so our foliage would murmur the secrets of the four corners of the world. But human beings have destroyed our hopes. No matter where in the world they are, they wage war on the forest. Our trunks crash to the ground with a sound like thunder. Our naked roots mourn the end of our dreams. You cannot destroy the forest without spilling blood.

Humans today think they can do whatever they like. They fancy themselves as masters, as architects of nature.

I'm a trespasser in the Kingdom of Death. This is his private domain, his empire, where he rules with absolute power. I feel like an astronaut floating in space, a thousand miles from earth. The slightest tear in his spacesuit and he’s lost. The slightest tear in mine, just like him, I’m lost too.

As a bat, somewhere midway between a mammal and a bird, with my foxy-looking fangs and snout and my translucent wings, I harbor but one regret: having let Ebola escape from my belly. It was dormant in me until Man came and wreaked the splendour of the forest.

External links

Wikipedia

Wikipedia has an article about:

Véronique Tadjo