Only Big Bumbum Matters Tomorrow by Damilare Kuku is one of those books that you think you already know just from the title, like Nearly All the Men in Lagos Are Mad. But the moment you get into it, you realize oh, there’s so much more, it’s not just about bumbums.
It’s also not written in the typical “literary” way, and honestly, why should it be? Not everything has to fit neatly into categories. Only Big Bumbum Matters Tomorrow is original and refreshing, and it reminds me of those simple, gripping reads from primary and early secondary school. The kind you enjoyed before you even knew what “literature” was. Because before we started dissecting stories and analyzing themes, we just read for the sheer enjoyment of it. That’s the feeling this book brings back.
At the centre of it all is Témì, a young woman determined to get a BBL and, in her mind, finally start living. Témì is young, naive, and sometimes frustrating, but you get why she’s making her choices. She’s convinced that fixing her backside will fix her life; get her the right man, the right opportunities, and the right attention. And to say the truth, she’s not entirely wrong. No matter how much we try to deny it, the world does treat women differently based on how they look, and this book doesn’t pretend otherwise.
But beyond that, Only Big Bumbum Matters Tomorrow is also about Témì’s family, especially her mother, her sister, and her late father.
Témì’s father, Professor Titó, is a quiet but deeply present force in her life. Even in his absence, his influence lingers. He is that warm, open-minded parent, the one who saw and understood his children in ways their mother couldn’t always manage. There’s a part where Ládùn, his older daughter, recalls how he handled her first period:
“Sweetheart, is this the first time this is happening?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Makes me wonder what they teach you in that school of yours if they have not enlightened you on what this is about. Come, sweetie. Go and shower; I’ll get you a sanitary pad. I’ll leave painkillers on the table for you too. Do you want me to boil some water for you to drink? I hear it helps.”
That was just who he was. The kind of father who didn’t shame or dismiss, who knew when to be firm and when to simply be there. And when he dies (sorry, spoiler alert), his absence leaves a gap that no one quite knows how to fill.
Témì’s mother, Hassana, on the other hand, is grieving in ways she doesn’t fully express. She regrets some things she’s done, knowing she hasn’t always been practical. She’s sharp-tongued. She’s also deeply aware of the world’s realities, as every woman would. She just knows what’s coming and wants to shield her children from the worst of it, even when she doesn’t always know how.
Ládùn, who left home years ago with no plans of coming back, is hardened by experience, distant, but still protective in her own way. To me, she feels like the only other person actually seeing things for what they are, even though she has her own baggage.
Aunty Jummai and Big Mummy are those characters sprinkled in for chaos. But entertaining chaos. They remind me of real-life aunties who always have an opinion on everything. But maybe in a good way? We can let that slide.
They’re flawed, all of them, and that’s what makes them feel real.
Now, I probably wouldn’t have even picked up Only Big Bumbum Matters Tomorrow if not for the controversy. When it came out, people had things to say. Some found the title off-putting, some thought it was unserious, and others were outright offended by what they assumed the story was about. And I get it. The title alone sounds like it’s about nothing but vanity and body obsession. Damilare Kuku seems to have a knack for sensational titles.
But when I actually read it, I realized it isn’t nearly as bad as people made it out to be. In fact, it isn’t bad at all. It is thoughtful and full of social commentary. It stirred up a conversation that was way bigger than the book itself. Conversations about beauty standards, about women’s choices, about how people are so quick to dismiss certain stories before even reading them.
(And if you want to read more about the controversy, I wrote about it in my piece on controversial books.)
So, would I recommend Only Big Bumbum Matters Tomorrow? Yeah. It’s not a perfect book (the multiple POVs tested my patience a little), but it’s bold and fresh, and I’m yet to read a perfect book, in all honesty. So if you want something that feels real, funny, and unapologetically Nigerian, then yes, absolutely.
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