Adichie, Chimamanda Ngozi;
Half of a Yellow Sun
Fourth Estate London 2006 / Harper Perennial 2007, 433 pages
ISBN 0007200285
topics: | fiction | nigeria | africa
My confidence comes from the belief that all human beings resemble each other, that others carry wounds like mine - that they will therefore understand. All true literature rises from this childish, hopeful certainty that all people resemble each other. - Orhan Pamuk, Nobel Lecture 2006 Set against the backdrop of the Nigerian civil war (the Biafran war (1967-1970), Adichie unfolds a powerful humane tale of love, hardship, betrayal, and tragedy, which has been compared to other wartime classics such as Gone with the Wind. This is one of the most powerful novels I have come across in recent years, Half of a Yellow Sun is a heartfelt story that reveals what Pamuk has called the unity of human experience across cultures. It brings to life the language and culture of Nigeria in the late sixties, the North-South tensions, a legacy of British rule that eventually resulted in the Southern separatist movement in the failed republic of Biafra. While at one level it describes the details of Igbo life across the social strata in Nigeria, at another level it is just a love story, one that could have been set anywhere. As an Indian, I felt I could relate intimately with the protagonists and their concerns; indeed the feeling is perhaps reciprocated across Africa; the characters in the book also empathize with India. At one point, when the houseboy Ugwu realizes his love has left the village, he feels he needs to escape with a Bollywood film: "The large-eyed beauty of the women, the singing, the flowers, the bright colours, and the crying, were what he needed now." (212) Their Igbo (Ibo) language also has surprising similarities with Indian English - aunts are called "Aunty", and at one point someone says - "You are not knowing how to bake German chocolate cake?" (166) The civil war that forms the background of the story reminds one of books from any of the upheavals of India in recent times - Amitabh Ghosh's Calcutta in the Shadow Lines, Kiran Desai's Darjeeling in the Inheritance of loss, or Shashi Tharoor's UP in Riot. Or for that matter, the Georgia of Gone with the Wind. Several love stories intertwine in a majestic tapestry woven against the backdrop of the war, depicted from the perspective of the losing side. Occasional excerpts from a parallel book on the history appear interleaved into the end of various chapters. The war puts the story in very sharp focus, somewhat like in "Gone with the wind", and the cultural details keep your interest piqued while the human story moves.
A good bit of the book is a particularly elegant penetration of the servant's life, an unusual aspect of a third world novel, where one gets inured to taking servants for granted. A good part of the story constitutes the trials and coming of age of Ugwu, the houseboy. (see also Reef. He is no meager waif like Kiran Desai's Gyan (Inheritance of Loss). Whereas Desai fails to penetrate the burlap that serves as a door at Gyan's rustic home, you can feel the bite of the sand as it hits Ugwu's skin when his stepmother throws sand at him to ensure he is not a ghost; you can hear the slap-slap of Ugwu's aunty's slippers, and feel the press of Nnesinachi's breasts as she presses into him during their hug. Throughout the book, the characters express a near-religious worship for the English language, and their desire to learn it. Coming from the village, whenever Ugwu sees a printed "English word that was not too long", he mouths the word. When he first meets Olanna, it is her fluent English that most impresses Ugwu: Then he heard her voice. He stood still. He had always thought that Master's English could not be compared to anybody's... Not even the white man Professor Lehman, with his words forced through his nose, sounded as dignified as Master. Master's English was music, but what Ugwu was hearing now, from this woman, was magic. Here was a superior language, a luminous language, like he heard on Master's radio, rolling out with clipped precision. 23 There is a rustic colour in the delineation of the characters; in particular, the liberal sprinkling of Igbo (Ibo) language and idiom, transports the reader to a very different world. The narrative itself is gripping, and takes you on a rollercoaster journey, and at the end you are left drained and wanting more - you close your eyes and you can feel the slanting lines crisscrossing a calabash, you can run your hand on the smoothness of a belly swollen out with "kwashiorkor" (a disease related malnutrition, from an west African term meaning "rejected one"). The book is filled with the sounds and smells of Igbo life. You say "Kedu?" to greet someone, and you eat _garri and _jollof rice, and aristocratic women wear wigs from London.
The triumphs and tensions of love is the leitmotif that binds the many lives
in this tale. The main storyline involves the beautiful aristocratic Olanna
and the idealistic academic Odenigbo. The frustrations of love and the
consequences on self-esteem constitute a powerful undercurrent throughout the
story - Olanna is tense when she is unable to become pregnant, and the
gunaecologist says, with a lewd grin "you just have to try harder". These
frustrations are most powerfully depicted with Richard, the handsome
expatriate Britisher, who falls in love with
the sparse and fearless Kainene. Richard is unable to hold
an erection:
Richard sat up in bed naked. He had just failed her again. "I'm
sorry. I think I get overexcited," he said.
"May I have a cigarette?" she asked. The silky sheet outlined the
angular thinness of her naked body.
He lit it for her. She sat up from under the cover, her dark brown
nipples tightening in the cold, air-conditioned room, and looked away as
she exhaled. "We'll give it time," she said, "And there are other ways." 68
The story switches back and forth between the war years of the late sixties
and the years of early independence from the early sixties. The narrative
jumps forward to when Olanna and Odenigbo are shown living with Baby, but it
keeps hinting at a dark period "before the coming of Baby". When the story
eventually backtracks we find Odenigbo in a sudden fling, abetted by his
mother, which results in Olanna moving out. The relationship is thrown into
turmoil. In the meanwhile however the village girl with whom Odebigbo had
the affair, apparently for only one night, becomes pregnant. This adds
further to Olanna's worries about her own inadequacies. Eventually, Olanna
happens to bump into Richard as she is buying some wine, and they have a
drunken one-night stand. After this she somehow finds it easier to reconcile
with Odenigbo.
Meanwhile the war is escalating. Olanna is on a visit to in Kano when the
massacres of the Igbo in the North begin. Though she's staying at Aunty
Ifeka's house, she is visiting Mohammed news comes of massacres in their
town. He drives her to their house, but she finds the whole family has been
killed including the pregnant Arize. This image keeps haunting her for the
next few months, even after she rediscovers passion:
She caressed his neck, buried her fingers in his dense hair, and
when he slid into her, she thought about Arize's pregnant belly,
how easily it must have broken, skin stretched that taut. She
started to cry. 160
Tales of the overcrowded train heading back South, are reminiscent of the
trains of Indian partition, with a darkness redolent of Sadat Hasan Minto:
Olanna sat on the floor of the train with her knees drawn up to her
chest and the warm, sweaty pressure of bodies around her... each
time [the train] jolted, Olanna was thrown against the woman next to
her, against something on the woman's lap, a big bowl, a calabash.
The woman's wrapper was dotted with splotchy stains that looked like
blood, but Olanna was not sure.
... somebody shouted in Igbo, "_Anyi agafeela! We have crossed
the River Niger! We have reached home!" [South of the Niger was Igbo
territory].
A liquid - urine - was spreading on the floor of the train.
Olanna felt it coldly soaking into her dress. The woman with the
calabash nudged her, then motioned to some other people close
by. "_Bianu, come," she said. "Come and take a look."
She opened the Calabash.
"Take a look," she said again.
Olanna looked into the bowl. She saw the little girl's head with
the ashy-grey skin and the plaited hair and rolled-back eyes and
open mouth. She stared at it for a while before she looked
away. Somebody screamed.
The woman closed the calabash. "Do you know," she said, "it took
me so long to plait this hair? She had such thick hair."
As an Indian, it is easy to relate to the desperation of characters as
food evaporates from the shelves and erstwhile aristocrats are relegated to
eating fried crickets, and children catch and roast rats in desperation. The
western bias in viewing this situation is revealed through a visit by a
couple of American journalists to a camp.
The story ends in a tragedy involving an important but not mainline
character.
[as they pass] a sign, ODIM STREET, and Ugwu mouthed _street, as he did whenever he saw an English word that was not too long. 3 There are two answers to the things they will teach you about our land: the real answer and the answer you give in school to pass. You must read books and learn both answers. 11 They will teach you that a white man called Mungo Park discovered the River Niger. That is rubbish. Our people fished in the Niger long before Mungo Park's grandfather was born. But in your exam, write that it was Mungo Park." "Yes, sah." Ugwu wished that this person called Mungo Park had not offended Master so much. 11 [university women] kept framed photos of their student days in Ibadan and Britain and America on their shelves. 19
Then he heard her voice. He stood still. He had always thought that
Master's English could not be compared to anybody's... Not even the white man
Professor Lehman, with his words forced through his nose, sounded as
dignified as Master. Master's English was music, but what Ugwu was hearing
now, from this woman, was magic. Here was a superior language, a luminous
language, like he heard on Master's radio, rolling out with clipped
precision. ...
Her Igbo words were softer than her English, and he was disappointed at
how easily they came out. He wished she would stumble in her Igbo, he had not
expected English that perfect to sit beside equally perfect Igbo. ...
He finally looked at her as she and Master sat down at the table. Her
oval face was smooth like an egg, the lush colour of rain-drenched earth, and
her eyes were large and slanted and she looked like she was not supposed to
be walking and talking like everyone else; she should be in a glass case like
the one in Master's study, where people could admire her curvy, fleshy body,
where she would be preserved untainted. 23
handwritten sign by the road: "better be late than THE late" 27
[Olanna meets Odenigbo.] [A white man joins a queue behind Olanna, and the ticket seller signals to him] to come forwards, "Let me help you here, sir," the ticket seller said, in that comically contrived "white" accent that uneducated people liked to put on. A man in a brown safari suit and clutching a book: Odenigbo. He walked up to the front, escorted the white man back into the queue, and then shouted at the ticket seller, "A white person looks better than your own people... You must apologize to everybody in the queue! Right now!" [Later, as he is leaving] she smiled and said "Well done" as he walked past, and it was the boldest thing she had ever done, the first time she had demanded attention from a man. He stopped and introduced himself, "My name is Odenigbo." "I'm Olanna," she said, and later, she would tell him that there had been a crackling magic in the air and he would tell her that his desire at that moment was so intense that his groin ached. When she finally felt that desire she was surprised above everything else. She did not know that a man's thrusts could suspend memory, that it was possible to be poised in a place where she could not think or remember, but only feel. 29 The intensity had not abated after two years... But she feared that this was because theirs was a relationship consumed in sips. 29
[Chief Okonji is the Finance Minister of Nigeria. He wants her to attend various functions.] "I can't keep you out of my mind," Chief Okonji said, and a mist of alcohol settled on her face. "I am not intersted, Chief." "I just can't keep you out of my mind," Chief Okonji said again. "Look, you don't have to work at the ministry. I can appoint you to a board, any board you want, and I will furnish a flat for you wherever you want." He pulled her to him, and for a while Olanna did nothing, her body limp against his. She was used to this, being grabbed by men who walked around in a cloud of cologne-drenched entitlement, with the presumption that because they were powerful and found her beautiful, they belonged together. She pushed him back, finally, and felt vaguely sickened at how her hands sank into his soft chest. "Stop it, Chief." 33 the familiar superiority of English people who thought they understand Africans better than Africans understand themselves 36 [Olanna tells M that she has to leave him because she does not want to be unfaithful to him. ] She knew very well how much he loved her... She had been shocked when he told her to go ahead and sleep with Odenigbo so long as she did not leave him : Mohammed, who often half-joked about coming from a lineage of holy warriors, the very avatars of pious masculinity. 45 There was something inexpressibly sad in his eyes. Or maybe she was imagining it. Maybe she wanted him to seem sad at the thought that they would never marry. 46 [Ugwu is horrified that she throws out the plastic flowers] Ugwu looked horrified. "But mah, it is still good." [When she puts fresh flowers in the vase:] "But it die, mah. The other wone don't die." 47 [Olanna] suspected that there was a glaze of unoriginality to all her ideas. And she suspected that Miss Adebayo knew this; it was always when she spoke that Miss Adebayo would pick up a journal or pour another drink or get up to go to the toilet. 51
Kainene: The new Nigerian upper class is a collection of illiterates who read
nothing and eat food they dislike at overpriced Lebanese restaurants ... 64
[Richard's inner dilemmas are extremely well delineated, so much so that
one wonders if Chimamanda may have had a white lover in Nigeria, who had
had similar dilemmas. ]
When he had began to pull her dress up above her thighs, she pushed him away
calmly, as if she knew his frenzy was simply armor for his fear [that he
would not be hard]. She hung her dress over the chair. He was so terrified
of failing her that seeing himself erect made him deliriously grateful, so
grateful that he was only just inside her before he felt that involuntary
tremble that he could not stop. They lay there, he on top of her, for a
while, and then he rolled off. 65
[Kainene] she was not one of those people with no patience for self-doubt. 52
There was a reassuring stability about being with [Susan]. ... Kainene was
different. He left Kainene full of a giddy happiness and an equally dizzying
sense of uncertainty. 66
The next afternoon, Richard sat up in bed naked. He had just failed her
again. "I'm sorry. I think I get overexcited," he said.
"May I have a cigarette?" she asked. The silky sheet outlined the angular
thinness of her naked body.
He lit it for her. She sat up from under the cover, her dark brown
nipples tightening in the cold, air-conditioned room, and looked away as she
exhaled. "We'll give it time," she said, "And there are other ways." 68
She got up and he wanted to pull her back. But he didn't; he could not trust
his body and could not bear to disappoint her yet again. 69
[Kainene, on why socialism will not work for the Igbo]: 'Ogbenyealu is a
common name for girls, and you know what it means? "Not to be Married by a
Poor Man." To stamp that on a child is capitalism at its best.' 69
he would try to keep his mind from worrying about failing Kainene in the
night, his body was still so unreliable and he had discovered that thinking
about failure made it more likely to happen. 78
And what sort of name was Madu Madu anyway? ... He felt pale. He wished
Kainene had said, This is my lover, Richard.
"Se first tole me about you when I called her from Pakistan about a month
ago." 78
He wished the man [Madu] would not keep asking him questions, as if to engage
him, as if the man were the host and Richard the visitor. How are you
enjoying Nigeria? Isn't the rice delicious? How is your book going? Do you
like Nsukka? 79
Odenigbo: "It is _now that we have to begin to decolonize our education! Not
tomorrow, now! Teach them our history!" 75
[Nigeria became independent in 1960, and this part of the story is set within
a few years, in the early sixties.]
For the prologue, he recounts the story of the woman with the calabash. She sat on the floor of a train squashed between crying people, shouting people, praying people. She was silent, caressing the covered calabash on her lap in a gentle rhythm until they crossed the Niger, and then she lifted the lid and asked Olanna and others close by to look inside. Olanna tells the story and he notes the details. She tells him how the bloodstains on the woman's wrapper blended into the fabric to form a rusty mauve. She describes the carved designs on the woman's calabash, slanting lines crisscrossing each other, and she describes the child's head inside, scruffy plaits falling across the dark-brown face, eyes completely white, eerily open, a mouth in a small surprised O. .. he mentions the German women who fled Hamburg with the charred bodies of their children stuffed in suitcases, the Rwandan women who pocketed tiny parts of their mauled babies. For the book cover, though, he draws a map of Nigeria and traces in the Y shape of the rivers Niger and Benue in bright red. He uses the same shade of red to circle the boundaries of where, in the Southeast, Biafra existed for three years. 82
[Ugwu is emptying the plates in the kitchen.] Some of the bones were so well
cracked they looked like wood shavings. Olanna's did not, though, because
she had only lightly chewed the ends and all three still had their shape.
Ugwu sat down and selected one and closed his eyes as he sucked it, imagining
Olanna's mouth enclosing the same bone. 83 [SERVANT MIND]
kola nuts and alligator pepper 91 [SPICE]
[Ugwu's mother:] "What will kill me is that smell."
[Ugwu:] "What smell?"
"In their mouth. I smelt it when your madam and master came in to see me
this morning and also when I went to ease myself."
"Oh. That is toothpaste. We use it to clean our teeth." Ugwu felt proud
saying _we...
She snapped her fingers and picked up her chewing stick. "What is wrong
with using a good _atu? That smell has made me want to vomit. If I stay
here much longer I will not be able to keep food in my stomach because of
that smell." 91-2
Ugwu knew many stories of people who had used medicine from the _dibia: the
childless first wife who tied up the second wife's womb, the woman who made a
neighbour's prosperous son go mad, the man who killed his brother because of
a land dispute. Perhaps Master's mother would tie up Olanna's womb or
cripple her or, most frightening of all, kill her. 98
she wished, more rationally, that she could love him without needing
him. Need gave him power without his trying; need was the choicelessness she
often felt around him. [LOVE] 101
She closed her eyes because she was straddling her now and as he moved,
languorously at first and then forcefully, he whispered, "We will have a
brilliant child, nkem, a brilliant child," and she said, "Yes, yes."
Afterwards, she felt happy knowing that some of the sweat on her body was his
and some of the sweat on his body was hers. Each time, after he slipped out
of her, she pressed her legs together, crossed them at her ankles, and took
deep breaths, as if the movement of her lungs would urge conception on. But
they did not conceive a child, she knew. The suddent thought that something
might be wrong with her body wrapped itself around her, dampened her. 107
[Richard: ] The details are stunning. It's quite incredible that these
people had perfected the complicated art of lost-wax casting during the time
of the Viking raids. There is such marvellous complexity in the bronzes, just
marvellous."
"You sound surprised," Okeoma said.
"What?"
"You sound surprised, as if you never imagined these people capable of
such things." 111
The British soldier-merchant Taubman Goldie, how he coerced, cajoled, and killed to gain control of the palm-oil trade and how, at the Berlin Conference of 1884 where Europeans divided Africa, he ensured that Britain beat France to two protectorates around the River Niger: the North and the South. The British preferred the North: The heat there was pleasantly dry; the Hausa-Fulani were narrow-featured and therefore superior to the negroid Southerners. Muslim and thereforeas civilized as one could get for natives, feudal and therefore perfect for indirect rule. Equable emirs collected taxes for the British, and the British, in turn, kept the Christian missionaries away. The humid South, on the other hand, was full of mosquitoes and animists and disparate tribes. The Yoruba were the largest in the Southwest. In the Southeast, the Igbo [Ibo] lived in small republican communities. They were non-docile and worryingly ambitious. Since they did not have the good sense to have kings, the British created 'warrant chiefs', because indirect rule cost the crown less. Missionaries were allowed in to tame the pagans, and the Christianity and education they brought flourished. In 1914, the governor-general joined the North and the South, and his wife picked a name. Nigeria was born. - The book, p. 115
[Nnesinachi and Ugwu] As they hugged, he felt her chest push into his. ... [later] he wondered if she had really pressed herself against him. 120 Because of too much Book, you no longer know how to laugh. 130 Writings on trucks: - No condition is permanent - God knows best - No telephone to heaven 132 - Man must whack 166 [Time magazine titled its piece on Nigerian massacre of Igbos with this phrase, explaining that Nigerian's wrote about their violent ways on their trucks. Richard writes a letter in protest, explaining that in Nigerian pidgin, whack meant eat. 166 Wigs: everyone wears wigs, made in London. 134 Kainene, and other points Two weeks after Madu is feared dead in the North, he appears in Kainene's house.... they were holding each other close, Kainene touching his arms and face with a tenderness that made Richard look away. 139 "The problem was the ethnic balance policy. I was part of the commission that told our GOC that we should scrap it, that it was polarizing the army, that they should stop promoting Northerners who were not qualified. But our GOC said no, our _British GOC." Madu turned and glanced at Richard. 141 "Say Allahu Akbar!" He would not say Allahu Akbar because his accent would give him away. ... the rifle went off and Nnaemeka's chest blew open, a splattering red mass, and Richard dropped the note in his hand. 153
The Second world war: A vocal Nigerian elite, mostly from the South, had
emerged.
The North was wary; it feared domination from the more educated South and
had always wanted a country separate from the infidel South anyway. But the
British had to preserve Nigeria as it was, their prized creation, their large
market, their thorn in France's eye. To propitiate the North, they fixed the
pre-independence elections in favour of the N and wrote a new constitution
which gave the N control of the Central government.
The South, too eager for independence, accepted the constitution.... At
independence in 1960, Nigeria was a collection of fragments held in a fragile
grasp. 155
She caressed his neck, buried her fingers in his dense hair, and when he slid
into her, she thought about Arize's pregnant belly, how easily it must have
broken, skin stretched that taut. She started to cry. 160
You are not knowing how to bake German chocolate cake? - Harrison 166
[Interestingly, the over-regularization of the present participle is also
present among Indian speakers - similar to the Hindi form "Ap cake bAnAne
jAnten nahin kya?" [jAnten can be simple present, or continuous].
I wonder if Igbo also has such a polysemy(?) in its verb morphology
Or is it the fact that :
English forces a speaker to mark durative aspect every time he
utters a sentence in the present tense; German, Afrikaans, French
and Swedish don't - Defining Creole, John H. McWhorter, 2005, p.41
[and maybe Hindi / Igbo doesn't either]
]
Sometimes he envied her the ability to be changed by what had happened.
[probably should be "unchanged"? ==> applies to M? ] 167
Madu and some of the officers who came back from the N went to tell Ojukwu to
release his stockpiled arms. But he turned around and said they were
planning to overthrow him.
Kainene: "But I do think he is terribly attractive: that beard alone." 183
Guava bark: It's bark fascinated Olanna, the way it was discoloured and
patchy, a light clay alternating with darker slate, much like the skin of
village children with the _nlacha skin disease. 184
She hoped Prof Achara had found them accommodation close to other university
people so that Baby would have the right kind of children to play with.
[even Olanna has ELITISM] 186
[This anger dialogue is BRILLIANT.]
[Mohammed, old lover, has written to Olanna, saying how he feels that the
war is senseless, that he is troubled. Olanna says that he must be upset by
all the Igbo massacres.
[Odenigbo doesn't agree: ]
What you are saying is that a bloody Muslim Hausa man is upset! He is
complicit, absolutely complicit, in everything that happened to our people,
so how can you say he is upset.
"Are you joking?"
"Am I joking? How can you sound this way after seeing what they did in
Kano? Can you imagine what must have happened to Arize? They raped pregnant
women before they cut them up!"
Olanna recoiled. She tripped on a stone in her path. She could not believe
that he had brought Arize up like that, cheapened Arize's memory in order to
make a point in a spurious argument. Anger froze her insides. 191
[Note also, the man reacting to the old lover, who is still friends...]
Umunnachi summons you, as though Umunnachi were a person rather than a
town. 191
[see also, Chinua Achebe's Arrow of God. In the end pages,
Adichie names this book as her strongest favourite, and mentions the fact
that Achebe used to teach at Nsukka, where she grew up, as a formative
influence. Translating the local idiom is perhaps more direct in Achebe,
and is more subtle, and blended better in Adichie. )
"join us in touching our hands to our mouths" - idiom for eating. [Master's
cousin would show up around mealtimes, and would express surprise, "Oh, oh"
when asked to join. 195
[Olanna is sad; Ugwu:] If only he could reach out and tug at her lips to
remove the sad smile from her face. If only it took that little. 201
[the numbers of the dead did not matter:] three thousand, ten thousand, fifty
thousand. What mattered was that the massacres made fervent Biafrans out of
former Nigerians. 205
Ugwu to Harrison: "My madam bought them for me from Bata." 210
If he was lucky, an Indian film would be on [TV]. The large-eyed beauty of the women, the singing, the flowers, the bright colours, and the crying, were what he needed now. 212 Her daughter got married last year and they couold not afford to import anything for the wedding. Even the wedding dress was made here in Lagos! 222 [Odenigbo-Amala:] Olanna noticed how scurpulously they avoided any contact, any touch of skin, as if they were united by a common knowledge so monumental that they were determined not to be united by anything else. 223 You heard me say so because I did not speak with water in my mouth! 225 [IDIOM]
Aunty Ifeka: "When your uncle first married me, I worried because I thought
those women outside would come and displace me from my home. I now know that
nothing he does will make my life change. My life will change only if I want
it to change."
"What are you saying, Aunty?"
"He is very careful now, since he realized that I am no longer afraid. I
have told him that if he brings disgrace to me in any way, I will cut off
that snake between his legs."
Aunty Ifeka went back to her stirring, and Olanna's image of their
marriage began to come apart at the seams.
"You must never behave as if your life belongs to a man. Do you hear me?"
Aunty Ifeka said. "Your life belongs to you and you alone, soso gi. Youy
will go back on Saturday. Let me hurry up and make some _abacha for you to
take."
She tasted a little of the paste and spat it out. 226
My grandfather used to say that other people just farted but his own fart
always released shit. [Olanna, telling Edna abt how Odenigbo's one night with
Amala had resulted in her becoming pregnant.] 232 [IDIOM]
[Olanna seduces Richard]
"Come sit on the floor with me." se said finally.
They sat side by side, their backs resting on the sofa seat. Richard
said, in a mumble, "I should leave," or something that sounded like it. But
she knew that he would not leave and that when she stretched out on the
bristly carpet he would lie next to her. She kissed his lips. He pulled her
forcefully close, and then just as quickly, he let go and moved his face
away. She could hear his rapid breathing. She unbuckled his trousers and
moved back to pull them down and laughed because they got stuck at his
shoes. ... He was on top of her and the carpet pricked her naked
back and she felt his mouth limply enclose her nipple. It was nothing like
Odenigbo's bites and suchks, nothing like those shocks of
pleasure. ... Everything changed when he was inside her. She raised her
hips, moving with him, matching his thrusts, and it was as if she was
throwing shackles off her wrists, extracting pins from her skin, freeing
herself with the loud, loud cries that burst from her mouth. Afterwards, she
felt filled with a sense of well-being, with something close to grace. 235
[Susan to Richard in the Polo Club:] "Africans have been allowed in for only a
few years, but you wouldn't believe how many come now, and they show such
little appreciation, really." 236
Starvation was a Nigerian weapon of war. Starvation broke Biafra and brought Biafra fame and made Biafra last as long as it did. Starvation made the people of the world take notice and sparked protests and demonstrations in London and Moscow and Czechoslovakia. Starvation made ... parents all over the world tell their children to eat up. Starvation aided the careers of photographers. And starvation made the International Red Cross call Biafra its gravest emergency since the Second World War. 237 In Canada, the Prime Minister quipped, "Where is Biafra?" 258 [Eberechi to Ugwu:] "He does not know it is Bee-afra, not Ba-yafra" 289 She kissed his neck, his ear, in the way that always made him pull her close on the nights that Ugwu slept out on the veranda. But he shrugged her hand off and said, "I'm tired, _nkem." She had never heard him say that before. He smelt of old sweat, and she felt a sudden piercing longing for that Old Spice left behind in Nsukka. 332
[Alice to Olanna] He would jump on top of me, moan oh-oh-oh like a goat, and that was it," She raised her finger. "With something this small. And afterwards he would smile happily without ever wondering if I had known when he started and stopped. Men! Men are hopeless!" "No, not all of them. My husband knows how to do, and with something like this." Olanna raised a clenched fist. They laughed and she sensed, between them, a vulgar and delicious female bond. 336 [Alice turns to become a lover for Odenigbo, p.384+] "Sometimes I hate them," Kainene said. "The vandals." [Olanna] "No, them." Kainene pointed [at the refugees]. "I hate them for dying." 349
[Ugwu in a trench.] A spider clambered up his arm but he did not slap it away. The darkness was black, complete, and Ugwu imagined the spider's hairy legs, its surprise to find not cold underground soil but warm human flesh. 361 [IMAGINATION : how can one think such thoughts for the characters? wonder where she got this idea from. ] [Gang raping the bar girl] Ugwu pulled his trousers down, surprised at the swiftness of his erection. She was dry and tense when he entered her. He did not look at her face, or at the man pinning her down, or at anything at all as he moved quickly and felt his own climax, the rush of fluids to the tips of himself: a self-loathing release. He zipped up his trousers while some solders clapped. Finally he looked at the girl. She stared back him with a calm hate. 365 [Later] He could not remember her features, but the look in her eyes stayed with him, as did the tense dryness between her legs, the way he had done what he had not wanted to do. 397 Back at camp his memory became clear; he remembered the man who placed both his hands on his blow-open belly as though to hold his intestines in, the one who mumbled something about his son before he stiffened. And, after each operation, everything became new. Ugwu looked at his daily wrap of _garri in wonder. He touched his own skin and thought of its decay. 365-6 garri: fermented tapioca wheat kwashiorkor: starvation disease - belly swells up like a ball.
[Richard is escorting two American journalists.] "Is it possible to see where the Biafran soldiers shot the Italian oil worker?" the redhead asked. "We've done something on that at the _Tribune, but I'd like to do a longer feature. ... Thousands of Biafrans were dead, and this man wanted to know if there was anything new about one dead white man. Richard would write about this, the rule of Western journalism: One hundred dead people equal one dead white person. 369 [in the refugee camp] A group of children were roasting two rats around a fire. "Oh my God." The plump one removed his hat and stared. "Niggers are never choosy about what they eat," the redhead muttered. "What did you say?" Richard asked. But the redhead ... hurried ahead. 368 Richard knew the type. [Charles the redhead] was like President Nixon's fact finders from Washington or Prime Minister Wilson's commission members from London who arrived with their firm protein tablets and their firmer conclusions: that Nigeria was not bombing civilians, that the starvation was overflogged, that all was as well as it should be in the ward. 371 There was a familiar melding to the curve of Odenigbo's arms around Alice. He held her with the ease of someone who had held her before. 384
Olanna sat on the floor of the train with her knees drawn up to her chest and the warm, sweaty pressure of bodies around her... each time [the train] jolted, Olanna was thrown against the woman next to her, against something on the woman's lap, a big bowl, a calabash. The woman's wrapper was dotted with splotchy stains that looked like blood, but Olanna was not sure. ... somebody shouted in Igbo, "_Anyi agafeela! We have crossed the River Niger! We have reached home!" [South of the Niger was Igbo territory]. A liquid - urine - was spreading on the floor of the train. Olanna felt it coldly soaking into her dress. The woman with the calabash nudged her, then motioned to some other people close by. "_Bianu, come," she said. "Come and take a look." She opened the Calabash. "Take a look," she said again. Olanna looked into the bowl. She saw the little girl's head with the ashy-grey skin and the plaited hair and rolled-back eyes and open mouth. She stared at it for a while before she looked away. Somebody screamed. The woman closed the calabash. "Do you know," she said, "it took me so long to plait this hair? She had such thick hair." ... [The train reaches the station] Motor boys were hitting the sides of lorries and chanting, "Owerri! Enugu! Nsukka!" She thought about the plaited hair resting in the calabash. She visualized the mother plaiting it, her fingers oiling it with pomade before she divided it into sections with a wooden comb. 149
...
"How was it plaited?" Ugwu asked.
Olanna was surprised, at first, by the question and then she realized that
she clearly remembered how it was plaited and she began to describe the
hairstyle, how some of the braids fell across the forehead. Then she
described the head itself, the open eyes, the greying skin. 409-10
Ugwu stood still as Chioke, his father's second wife, threw sand at him. Are
you real, Ugwu?" she asked, "Are you real?"
She bent and grabbed handfuls of sand, throwing in rapid movements, and
the sand fell on his shoulder, arms, belly. Finally, she stopped and hugged
him. He had not disappeared, he was not a ghost. 419
Growing up in the university town of Nsukka, she devoured Enid Blyton books about happy English families and soon started writing her own with middle-class white characters "exactly like Enid Blyton's". It was only when she began to read African books that she realised that black Africans "could actually exist" in literature. also see Chinhua Achebe interview: Heart of Darkness / Mister Johnson, in The Telegraph