A Review of Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie’s “Americanah”
Image credit: Pigeon Books.
By: Rodiyah Mikail × Patience Enokela
The first story I read of Chimamanda’s was Purple Hibiscus and I still remember how someone referred to her as the Achebe of the new generation. That stuck. That and the fact that the story didn’t disappoint.
So every time I see a CNA book afterwards, I’m prepared to be blown away.
When I first came across Americanah, I was struck by the bulk. I wondered how a person could weave a love story that endured for 477 long pages because this was what CNA prepared us for, a love story. But she didn’t stop at that, she gave us so much more.
Americanah tells the story of Ifemelu and Obinze, two Nigerians who fell in love as teenagers in the city of Lagos. Their love, born in Lagos, spans across three continents before finally coming back to the city of its birth.
Torn apart by a chain of events that didn’t quite go as planned, Ifemelu takes her love to America. She gets a rude awakening from the landscape of her imagination where 'the mundane things in America were covered in high-shine gloss' so when she finally steps foot on American soil, she stared at buildings and cars and signboards, all of them matt, 'disappointingly matt’. But their love does not die because, well, like Obinze’s mother said before she left 'Have a plan’, they did have a plan, 'he would come to America the minute he graduated. He would find a way to get a visa. Perhaps, by then, she would be able to help with his visa.'
“In America, Ifemelu learns too that depression is real and not just for the 'white' or the privileged.”
America is however not the paradise in their imagination, 'she woke up everyday worrying about money' and as each 'You’ll hear from me soon!' from prospective employers yielded nothing, she grew more frantic. As she watched her bills grow higher and higher, she was pushed to take a decision that would not only lead her to depression but estrange her from her beloved. So, in America, Ifemelu learns too that depression is real and not just for the 'white' or the privileged.
In America, Ifemelu learns quickly that she stopped being recognized as Igbo or Nigerian since she entered America. Now she’s black and no-one cares whether she is African-American or American-African. And no, not every white person is white, there’s an in-between race called Hispanic.
'All you need to be is Spanish-speaking but not from Spain and voilà, you’re a race called Hispanic.'
Years later, she would start a blog called Raceteenth or Various Observations About American Blacks(Those Formerly Known as Negroes) by a Non-American Black where she would talk about her observations as a Non-American Black in America and which would also provide a platform for some much needed discussions about race and blackness in America with titles like 'Friendly Tips for the American Non-Black: How to React to an American Black Talking About Blackness' and 'Understanding America for the Non-American Black: American Tribalism’.
So when she finally decides to shut down her blog, sell her condo and return back to Nigeria, everyone is shocked because, why would anyone want to close down a blog that was doing that well to write for some unknown magazine back in Nigeria?
Obinze on the other hand has painfully learnt that to have a dream, one must be able to afford the dream. His days of living an easy-going life are soon consumed by his fervour to go abroad. He is slowly but painfully refined by his illegal immigrant years in England, learning that for some, the term ‘friends’ can be only be relatively applied in every phase of life. Worse still is the abrupt loss of contact with Ifemelu which creeps up to utterly crush him.
“It would be a sacrilege to call this an ordinary romance.”
Years later, Obinze has returned to Nigeria, licked feet and has become a success, with a trophy wife and a beautiful daughter. But what happens when he gets an albeit silently hungered for, E-mail from Ifemelu pertaining her return to Nigeria? It would be sacrilege to call this an ordinary romance. It was so much more.
Adichie uses the characters of this book to portray the ever growing menace that is racism. From everyday occurrences like taking the bus, going to school and work, going out to catch fun, walking on streets and even directly, each character that goes out of the country has an experience of some sort. She goes a long way to show how racism continues to eat deeper into the fabric of our humanity.
She also expertly portrays feminism, in all ramifications- the good, the bad, the mild and the extreme while touching the aspect of misogyny, leaving no stone unturned.
She uses the happenings in this book to give us the immigrant and populace’s view of corruption, which everyone ultimately experiences. From the procurement of Visas in Nigeria to the acquisition of National Identity cards abroad, it was clear that corruption has sadly become the new norm.
Albeit mildly, she also broaches the topics of religion and god-fatherism, and how they are used objectively to serve one’s purposes and desires at the appropriate moment.
This piece clearly speaks to the reader. There’ll be something in it that incites the personal experience of every reader. If you’ve never been ravished or seek to experience it once more, pick up this book. Pleasure awaits you.
