I recently read the novel ‘Americanah’ by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, the renown Nigerian author. I enjoy reading African writers. There is this quote by Alan Bennett, about books, that I like, “the best moments in reading are when you come across something-a thought, a feeling, a way of looking at things- which you had thought special and particular to you and now, here it is! Set down by someone else, a person you have never met, someone even who is long dead. And it is as if a hand has come out and taken yours.”

This happens to me often when I read good Nigerian stories, especially those by young female authors like Chimamanda and Sefi Attah. I like the fact that I can see my experiences mirrored in their stories, sometimes these are experiences that like Mr. Bennett says, I didn’t even know anyone else noticed! It is wonderful and special to have that feeling shared by someone else, it is as though I’ve receive a calligraphed note from the Universe with the following message stencilled inside;

“Wendelyn, you are not a weirdo.

-Management”

Lol. I like that.

On Americanah, I enjoyed bits of Chimamanda’s latest literary offering but I was disappointed by some of it. I mean, there were parts that just left me with a blank, dazed, indifferent or just confused feeling. For instance, what is up with the long-standing hair debate in the book though?! Yooooo, can a black woman’s hair just be great in peace?! Why must it degenerate to a Natural hair vs Relaxed hair debate? “Do your own may’I do my own and God no go vex” isn’t that what we say in Naij? Do you boo! I think it’s a bit ridiculous to reduce a full, rounded individual personality to the choice she makes over her hair.

This is why I find subliminal attacks on women who choose to augment or assist (however you choose to view relaxing) their natural hair texture, totally laughable. I left my hair natural for over 2 years and I loved the growth and health…I recently relaxed it because I got bored of natural hair. It’s my hair, I should be able to do whatever I want with it because that’s how I feel TODAY. Its crazy to let my principles, thoughts, and direction be determined and controlled by mere hair. And it is absolutely mental, for someone else to define my principles, thoughts and direction by the way I wear my hair!

Anyway, negro hair tales and black girl problems aside, I didn’t really enjoy Chimamanda’s Americanah, not just because of the consistent subliminal references to the wonders of natural hair and the disadvantages of relaxed hair, but because I felt the purity of her Nigerian experience was lacking.

Here is the thing, I think that this book reads like a narrative written by a priviledged Nigerian who lives abroad, separated from the realities of 2013 Nigeria. Oh wait, it was written by one! Hey now! On one hand, that’s not a bad thing at all, in fact I love the detachment of the narrative because when you live in a manic place like Nigeria, it is easy to normalise the incredible, the irrational, the down right foolish. It takes a Chimamanda to remind you that, “Errrr, X, Y and Z are NOT actually normal human behaviour please!” Lol.

The danger of this is though, that is if you do write Nigerian stories from a foreign perspective, there is a tendency for the purity of your Nigerian experience to become corrupted in your narrative. There is a filter to your words, a tendency to speak with empathy…but still detached from the true reality of Nigeria. You might understand the result, but may not see the cause. Nigeria is weird, you might be Nigerian but there are some things that you just don’t ‘get’, you neither understand nor appreciate once you live outside the borders of Nigeria. You might come here for holidays, stay around for several months, but you don’t really, really understand some core ‘Nigerianisms’ without living here and immersing yourself in the chaos fully.

Until then, theorising is easy. Of course, the world over, everyone loves this book. From CNN to Time magazine, the book was applauded because for the Western media, THIS is a true Nigerian tale! Not disfigured by racist reporting or rose-coloured glasses wearing patriots, it sounds and feels objective, stark and true. But uhhhhhm, no bueno *shakes head*, the Esoteric Elders have tested and confirm, “…something in the milk aint clean!”. Lol.

The other day while driving my little red beast, Beau, down Osbourne road, the Nigerian emcee M.I’s song ‘My Bele, My Head” came on the radio and while listening I thought to myself, “This guy is telling the Nigerian story that is recognisable by the people here, slangs and all.” No long-winded stories coloured by nostalgic memories or disjointed hopes, this is the flesh and blood, the valid and susbsiting Nigerian tale…and true true soon after, I was stopped by the police and harassed. (The Nigerian police is NOT your friend, BEWARE!). Here are the lyrics of the M.I song I was listening to.

Verse 1: “Mommy don’t cry, Imma make sure you say we no die.
Imma go hussle and we go try,
Hunger hook man for neck shey na bowtie.
Whatever it takes, me I no shy.
If na heaven food dey, make we go sky, E better than make I sit down, make I no try.
I go even buy ticket make we both fly.
Mama, if it mean say, make I turn slave, Kunta Kente. Anything just to make clean pay,
you never see food chop since Wednesday. Make I wash car, sell gala, shine shoe. Shey na work, anything I no mind do,
I go do better work, even times two!
Cos it’s not easy, it’s not easy, it’s not easy.

Verse 4: (Police) Oga stop there!
Abi u never see road block here!
Na we be the police search and stop here.
If you wan pass son gotta drop here,
U no dey see gun abi u no well?!
If you form actor, u go go cell!
See behind counter no be hotel!
You go do 3 nights before u go bail! But if you want move,
You sef know wetin you suppose do! Do am quick quick make I no expose you.
Nyem something make I hold or I’ll hold you! Hey Sergeant Collins, make you come check.
Search am quick, search him bag and him pocket!
Any exhibit wey we come get, Then alarm go blow!”

(These four stories are so typically Nigerian, standard day in Lagos… I think some sort of translation might be needed from a Nigerian-Nigerian if you don’t understand. Lol. So ask a real Nigerian friend about these M.I lyrics).

While I enjoyed reading Chimamanda’s Americanah, I just felt that doubted the veracity of the narrative. Before her travel to America, I think her potrayal of Nigeria is wonderfully accurate on many fronts, but following her return, her writing on “modern day Nigeria” is clearly witnessed through the eyes of a visitor. The narrative is too detached for the veracity to remain unquestioned and the core of the tale to be truly accessible and comparable to the rawness of a true Nigerian story.