Random Thoughts on "Americanah" by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie
I feel so tired, jetlagged from my trips back and forth between Nigeria, America and England. With this tiredness is the exhaustion from my having existed as three different people at the same time, within a few days, hoping their hopes, revelling in their joy and fighting with them their battles.
I have watched, with an air of omniscience only second to Adichie's, the experiences of Ifemelu and Obinze. I have rejoiced in their love, been distressed by their separation, nearly gotten a high blood pressure at the suspense that surrounded their reunion. I even watched with guilty pleasure as they rekindled their old flame, Obinze leaving his strikingly beautiful and docile wife, Kosi, for feisty Ifemelu with her flighty tendencies.
I have also wondered at my sense of morals - or the lack of it, for how could I possibly condone Obinze's adultery?
After being dragged through so many conflicting emotions and thoughts like this, I have decided that the whole idea of right and wrong is relative. It simply depends on which side you are viewing from. Your sympathy lies there. That's it. We are all prejudiced.
We are all prejudiced.
Which is why despite being enchanted with Americanah, I still refuse to acquiesce to Adichie's idea that I, Nigerian, living in Nigeria, am more privileged than Nigerians abroad who have to deal with racism.
I do not seek to invalidate the racial struggles of our brothers out there, but if the whites don't treat me well abroad, I could probably come back home. But what's worse than coming back to my home country only to be given the tag of a sex pervert, because Igbo Male Human. A country where the prevailing concern is not tackling the sexual disorientation of its youths, but tribe calling and tribe shaming.
I have only just returned from my trip from Americanah but the Nigeria I meet makes me want to hide away for some more time. Maybe bury myself in another book until after exhausting all the pages, I'm forced back to reality.
I have watched, with an air of omniscience only second to Adichie's, the experiences of Ifemelu and Obinze. I have rejoiced in their love, been distressed by their separation, nearly gotten a high blood pressure at the suspense that surrounded their reunion. I even watched with guilty pleasure as they rekindled their old flame, Obinze leaving his strikingly beautiful and docile wife, Kosi, for feisty Ifemelu with her flighty tendencies.
I have also wondered at my sense of morals - or the lack of it, for how could I possibly condone Obinze's adultery?
After being dragged through so many conflicting emotions and thoughts like this, I have decided that the whole idea of right and wrong is relative. It simply depends on which side you are viewing from. Your sympathy lies there. That's it. We are all prejudiced.
We are all prejudiced.
Which is why despite being enchanted with Americanah, I still refuse to acquiesce to Adichie's idea that I, Nigerian, living in Nigeria, am more privileged than Nigerians abroad who have to deal with racism.
I do not seek to invalidate the racial struggles of our brothers out there, but if the whites don't treat me well abroad, I could probably come back home. But what's worse than coming back to my home country only to be given the tag of a sex pervert, because Igbo Male Human. A country where the prevailing concern is not tackling the sexual disorientation of its youths, but tribe calling and tribe shaming.
I have only just returned from my trip from Americanah but the Nigeria I meet makes me want to hide away for some more time. Maybe bury myself in another book until after exhausting all the pages, I'm forced back to reality.
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