Adichie on "Chimamanda," Arts, Igbo, Biafra, et al.

#EndSARS: Nigeria Is Murdering Its Citizens

(By Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie) – Nigeria Is Murdering Its Citizens                               LAGOS, Nigeria [Oct. 21, 2020] — For years, the name SARS hung in the air here in Nigeria like a putrid fog. SARS, which stood for Special Anti-Robbery Squad, was supposed to be the elite Nigerian police unit dedicated to fighting crime, but it was really a moneymaking terror squad with no accountability. SARS was random, vicious, vilely extortionist. SARS officers would raid bars or stop buses on the road and arbitrarily arrest young men for such crimes as wearing their hair in dreadlocks, having tattoos, holding a nice phone or a laptop, driving a nice car. Then they would demand large amounts of money as “bail.” 

          SARS officers once arrested my cousin at a beer parlor because he arrived driving a Mercedes. They accused him of being an armed robber, ignored the work ID cards he showed them, took him to a station where they threatened to photograph him next to a gun and claim he was a robber, unless he paid them a large sum of money. My cousin is one of the fortunate few who could pay an amount large enough for SARS, and who was released. He is not one of the many tortured, or the many disappeared, like Chijioke Iloanya.

The Marriage Whisperer: A Review

The Marriage Whisperer

A Review by Chijioke Azuawusiefe, SJ

          Marriage has been designated a number of things ranging from sacrament to business, with in-betweens like covenant, union, vocation, institution, partnership, social construct, and even horse race. It all depends on who does the classification and those involved in the relationship. But in all the cases, one factor remains certain: marriage is a work in progress. Those involved work at it and that work takes different forms for different couples. 

The Marriage Whisperer tells a fascinating story of six middle-aged women who, leveraging the support and the company of their friendship, navigate the challenges of their marriages and relationships. Tess Ajibosin, in this debut novella, paints a picture of strong characters who, nonetheless, are human enough to acknowledge their vulnerabilities when it comes to their associations with men, even though they do not allow their shortcomings to diminish them. Ajibosin leverages the experiences of these women to bring the broad strokes of her brush to bear on the gender and patriarchal conversations canvas in contemporary Nigeria. She then traces the contours of these discourses through the individual lives of the narrator, Camille, and her friends, as each confronts and comes to terms with the relationship blues that her life presents. 

African Literature is a Country

Image credit Suad Kamardeen

(By Lily Saint and Bhakti Shringarpure) - African literature is a country

          What if you survey African literature professors to find out which works and writers are most regularly taught? Only a few canonical ones continue to dominate curricula. 

          This is the first post of the series “African Literature is a Country” which asks how we decolonize literary studies today.
          We would like to thank Henry Vehslage for his assistance in organizing and gathering all the information and Dr. Erin Butler for help in interpreting the data. An additional heartfelt thanks to the late Professor Tejumola Olaniyan for his support and advice on this project.

          African literary studies today is a site of deep paradox. On one hand, the last two decades have seen astonishing growth for African literature in the global North and South, evidenced by lucrative publishing deals; new prizes and grants; literature festivals; the establishment of many new presses and imprints; and an increase in blogs and platforms that disseminate and discuss these developments. On the other hand, African literature continues to exist on the margins of the academic mainstream and is also underrepresented within larger reading publics.

#Black Lives Matter

(By Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie) - "Dear American Non-Black, if an American Black person is telling you about an experience about being black, please do not eagerly bring up examples from your own life. Don't say 'It's just like when I was ...' You have suffered. Everyone in the world has suffered. But you have not suffered precisely because you are an American Black. Don't be quick to find alternative explanations for what happened. Don't say 'Oh, it's not really race, it's class. Oh, it's not race, it's gender. Oh, it's not race, it's the cookie monster.' You see, American Blacks actually don't WANT it to be race. They would rather not have racist shit happen. So maybe when they say something is about race, it's maybe because it actually is? Don't say 'I'm color-blind,' because if you are color-blind, then you need to see a doctor and it means that when a black ma is shown on TV as a crime suspect in your neighborhood, all you see is a blurry purplish-grayish-creamish figure. Don't say 'We're tired of talking about race' or 'The only race is the human race.' American Blacks, too, are tired of talking about race. They wish they didn't have to. But shit keeps happening. Don't preface your response with 'One of my best friends is black' because it makes no difference and nobody cares and you can have a black best friend and still do racist shit and it's probably not true anyway, the 'best' part, not the 'friend' part. Don't say your grandfather was Mexican so you can't be racist (please click here for more on There Is No United League of the Oppressed). Don't bring up your Irish great-greatparents' suffering. Of course they got a lot of shit from established America. So did the Italians. So did the Eastern Europeans. But there was a hierarchy. A hundred years ago, the white ethnics hated being hated, but it was sort of tolerable because at least black people were below them on the ladder.

Afamefuna: The Headstrong Historian

Illustration by Yvetta Fedorova

(By Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie) – The Headstrong Historian

Many years after her husband had died, Nwamgba still closed her eyes from time to time to relive his nightly visits to her hut, and the mornings after, when she would walk to the stream humming a song, thinking of the smoky scent of him and the firmness of his weight, and feeling as if she were surrounded by light. Other memories of Obierika also remained clear—his stubby fingers curled around his flute when he played in the evenings, his delight when she set down his bowls of food, his sweaty back when he brought baskets filled with fresh clay for her pottery. From the moment she had first seen him, at a wrestling match, both of them staring and staring, both of them too young, her waist not yet wearing the menstruation cloth, she had believed with a quiet stubbornness that her chi and his chi had destined their marriage, and so when he and his relatives came to her father a few years later with pots of palm wine she told her mother that this was the man she would marry. Her mother was aghast. Did Nwamgba not know that Obierika was an only child, that his late father had been an only child whose wives had lost pregnancies and buried babies? Perhaps somebody in their family had committed the taboo of selling a girl into slavery and the earth god Ani was visiting misfortune on them. Nwamgba ignored her mother. She went into her father’s obi and told him she would run away from any other man’s house if she was not allowed to marry Obierika. Her father found her exhausting, this sharp-tongued, headstrong daughter who had once wrestled her brother to the ground.

Adichie Hosts Lupita Nyong'o in Lagos

(By Otosirieze Obi-Young) - Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie Hosted Lupita Nyong’o in Lagos: How It Happened + Photos & Video

Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie hosted Lupita Nyong’o in a private dinner in Lagos, attended by notable personalities in Nigerian entertainment. The event was part of Lupita’s second visit to Nigeria in preparation for the Americanah TV series adaptation, in which she will star as Ifemelu. The series, which has been ordered by HBO Max with Danai Gurira as showrunner and Chinonye Chukwu as director for the first two episodes, will also star Uzo Aduba as Aunty Uju, Zachary Momoh as Obinze, and Corey Hawkins as Blaine.

Chimamanda and Lupita wore near-matching outfits by the Lagos-based womenswear designer Imad Eduso: Lupita in purple, with silver shoes and braids by Zubi, and Chimamanda in shiny green, with blue sandals by TNL designs.

Among the guests were the Nollywood actors Richard Mofe-Damijo, Olu Jacobs, Joke Silva, Nse Ikpe Etim, Omoni Oboli, and Dakore Egbuson; the musicians Femi Kuti, D’banj, Flavour, Omawumi, Waje, and Seun Kuti; the writers and publishers Lola Shoneyin and Eghosa Imasuen; the media entrepreneur Chude Jideonwo; the comedians Chigurl and Bovi; and the actress and singer Onyeka Onwenu, who was given a shoutout in Americanah and played Mama in the Half of a Yellow Sun film. They were all gifted with Narrative Landscape Press’ ankara-bound copies of Americanah.

Of Kannywood, Okada, Danfo: Nigerianisms and Language Evolution

(By Danica Salazar) - Release notes: Nigerian English

My English-speaking is rooted in a Nigerian experience and not in a British or American or Australian one. I have taken ownership of English.

          This is how acclaimed Nigerian writer Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie describes her relationship with English, the language which she uses in her writing, and which millions of her fellow Nigerians use in their daily communication. By taking ownership of English and using it as their own medium of expression, Nigerians have made, and are continuing to make, a unique and distinctive contribution to English as a global language. We highlight their contributions in this month’s update of the Oxford English Dictionary, as a number of Nigerian English words make it into the dictionary for the first time. 

The majority of these new additions are either borrowings from Nigerian languages, or unique Nigerian coinages that have only begun to be used in English in the second half of the twentieth century, mostly in the 1970s and 1980s.

One particularly interesting set of such loanwords and coinages has to do with Nigerian street food. The word buka, borrowed from Hausa and Yoruba and first attested in 1972, refers to a roadside restaurant or street stall that sells local fare at low prices. Another term for such eating places first evidenced in 1980 is bukateria, which adds to buka the –teria ending from the word cafeteria.

Celebrating Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie

CxPStudio

Adichie: Race, Identity, and Feminism

Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie: Identity, Feminism and Honest Conversations

The Economist

Lagos: A City Still Becoming

(By Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie) - Still Becoming: At Home In Lagos With Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie

The novelist has lived in Lagos on and off for a decade. Here, in an essay for Esquire's new Travel & Adventure issue, she reflects on life in Nigeria's biggest city

          Lagos will not court you. It is a city that is what it is. I have lived part-time in Lagos for 10 years and I complain about it each time I return from my home in the US — its allergy to order, its stultifying traffic, its power cuts. I like, though, that nothing about Lagos was crafted for the tourist, nothing done to appeal to the visitor. Tourism has its uses, but it can mangle a city, especially a developing city, and flatten it into a permanent shape of service: the city’s default becomes a simpering bow, and its people turn the greyest parts of themselves into colourful props. In this sense, Lagos has a certain authenticity because it is indifferent to ingratiating itself; it will treat your love with an embrace, and your hate with a shrug. What you see in Lagos is what Lagos truly is. 

          And what do you see? A city in a state of shifting impermanence. A place still becoming. In newer Lagos, houses sprout up on land reclaimed from the sea, and in older Lagos, buildings are knocked down so that ambitious new ones might live. A street last seen six months ago is different today, sometimes imperceptibly so — a tiny store has appeared at a corner — and sometimes baldly so, with a structure gone, or shuttered, or expanded. Shops come and go. Today, a boutique’s slender mannequin in a tightly pinned dress; tomorrow, a home accessories shop with gilt-edged furniture on display.

Adichie: Stories, Diversity, and What Matters

Inbound

Igbo bu Igbo: Culture, Language, and Gender Relations

Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie: "Igbo bu Igbo" - Keynote at 7th Annual International Igbo Conference

Adichie, Anambra, and the Core of Igbo Society

(By Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie) - I am from Abba, in Njikoka LGA. My mother is from Umunnachi in Dunukofia LGA. I grew up in Nsukka, in Enugu State, a town that remains deeply important to me, but Abba and Umunnachi were equally important to me. My childhood was filled with visits. To see my grandmother, to spend Christmas and Easter, to visit relatives. I know the stories of my great grandfather and of his father, I know where my great grandmother’s house was built, I know where our ancestral lands are.
          Abum nwa afo Umunnachi, nwa afo Abba, nwa afo Anambra.

          I am proud of Anambra State. And if our sisters and brothers who are not from Anambra will excuse my unreasonable chauvinism, I have always found Igbo as spoken by ndi Anambra to be the most elegant form of Igbo.
          Anambra State has much to be proud of. This is a state that produced that political and cultural colossus Nnamdi Azikiwe. This is a state that produced the mathematics genius Professor James Ezeilo. This is a state that produced Dora Nkem Akunyili, a woman who saved the lives of so many Nigerians by demonstrating dedicated leadership as the Director General of NAFDAC. (May her soul continue to rest in peace)

          This is a state that produced Nigeria’s first professor of Statistics, Professor James Adichie, a man I also happen to call Daddy. This is a state that produced the first woman to be registrar of Nigeria’s premiere university, UNN, Mrs Grace Adichie, a woman I also happen to call Mummy.
          This is a state that has produced great writers. If Chinua Achebe and Flora Nwapa and Chukwuemeka Ike had not written the books they did, when they did, and how they did, I would perhaps not have had the emotional courage to write my own books. Today I honour them and all the other writers who came before me. I stand respectfully in their shadow. I also stand with great pride in the shadow of so many other daughters and sons of Anambra State.

Adichie, Achebe, and A Country

(By Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie) - Chinua Achebe at 82: “We Remember Differently” 

I have met Chinua Achebe only three times. The first, at the National Arts Club in Manhattan, I joined the admiring circle around him. A gentle-faced man in a wheelchair.

“Good evening, sir. I’m Chimamanda Adichie,” I said, and he replied, mildly,  “I thought you were running away from me.”

I mumbled, nervous, grateful for the crush of people around us. I had been running away from him. After my first novel was published, I received an email from his son. My dad has just read your novel and liked it very much. He wants you to call him at this number. I read it over and over, breathless with excitement. But I never called. A few years later, my editor sent Achebe a manuscript of my second novel. She did not tell me, because she wanted to shield me from the possibility of disappointment. One afternoon, she called.  “Chimamanda, are you sitting down? I have wonderful news.” She read me the blurb Achebe had just sent her. We do not usually associate wisdom with beginners, but here is a new writer endowed with the gift of ancient storytellers. Adichie knows what is at stake, and what to do about it. She is fearless or she would not have taken on the intimidating horror of Nigeria’s civil war. Adichie came almost fully made. Afterwards, I held on to the phone and wept. I have memorized those words. In my mind, they glimmer still, the validation of a writer whose work had validated me.

To Write in Igbo Or Not to Write in English

(By Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie) - "I’m not sure my writing in English is a choice. If a Nigerian Igbo like myself is educated exclusively in English, discouraged from speaking Igbo in a school in which Igbo was just one more subject of study (and one that was considered ‘uncool’ by students and did not receive much support from the administration), then perhaps writing in English is not a choice, because the idea of choice assumes other equal alternatives.

Although I took Igbo until the end of secondary school and did quite well, it was not at all the norm. Most of all, it was not enough. I write Igbo fairly well but a lot of my intellectual thinking cannot be expressed sufficiently in Igbo. Of course this would be different if I had been educated in both English and Igbo. Or if my learning of Igbo had an approach that was more wholistic.

The interesting thing, of course, is that if I did write in Igbo (which I sometimes think of doing, but only for impractical, emotional reasons), many Igbo people would not be able to read it. Many educated Igbo people I know can barely read Igbo and they mostly write it atrociously.

I think that what is more important in this discourse is not whether African writers should or should not write in English but how African writers, and Africans in general, are educated in Africa.

#Literature Is Global Because It's Specific

L-R: Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, Trevor Noah, & Chris Jackson; Photo credit: Beowulf Sheehan

“‘People are surprised they connect with my characters,’ said [Chimamanda Ngozi] Adichie. ‘And

men are surprised they liked a book written by a woman.’ That surprise illuminates the privilege of thinking only one type of story is allowed to be ‘universal.’ After all, white authors aren’t asked to change the names of their characters to appeal to African and Asian markets. The assumption is that the specificities of nonwhite, non-Western life cannot be universal, and that anyone else has to change themselves to be heard. But, for both Adichie and [Trevor Noah, diluting themselves is not an option.”

Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie (by Jaya Saxena)
@2017 PEN America Voices Festival, New York

"Dear Ijeawele": Adichie's Feminist Manifesto

Photo Source: Dreamstime.com

(By Chimamanda Adichie)--“DEAR IJEAWELE, OR A FEMINIST MANIFESTO IN FIFTEEN SUGGESTIONS”

Dear Ijeawele,

What joy. And what lovely names: Chizalum Adaora. She is so beautiful. Only a day old and she already looks curious about the world. Your note made me cry. You know how I get foolishly emotional sometimes. Please know that I take your charge – how to raise her feminist – very seriously. And I understand what you mean by not always knowing what the feminist response to situations should be. For me, feminism is always contextual. I don’t have a set-in-stone rule; the closest I have to a formula are my two ‘Feminist Tools’ and I want to share them with you as a starting point.

The first is your premise, the solid unbending belief that you start off with. What is your premise? Your feminist premise should be: I matter. I matter equally. Not ‘if only.’ Not ‘as long as.’ I matter equally. Full stop.

The second tool is a question: can you reverse X and get the same results?

Adichie and the Love of Igbo Names

“I love unusual names. At my book-signing events, when I come across a beautiful name – from any part of the world – I write it down and plan to use it in my fiction. I am Igbo so obviously unusual Igbo names mean even more to me. I think Igbo names are so beautiful and so full of poetry and many of them are not often used because the same few post-Christian names are now in circulation. I love the idea of names as history.”

                                                          ……….

“I think it is catastrophic that we, in the name of Christianity, are destroying our pre-Christian heritage. An ancient tree burned down during a vigil. Artifacts destroyed in the name of 'progress.' We need to tell those stories. If you are thinking of 'addressing that combination,' please do. You have a reader here.”

ChimamandaNgozi Adichie

Engaging Africa

“I’d rather you not engage [with Africa] than engage in a patronising way. It comes from a sense of superiority; an ignorance that refuses to acknowledge itself”

Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie