By Monet Moutrie
Media InternChimamanda Ngozi Adichie is a bright star in the literary world. Born in 1977, Adichie hails from southeast Nigeria, where she was born and raised. At the age of 19, Adichie left Nigeria to attend college in the United States. After completing her master’s degree in creative Writing, Adichie’s first novel, Purple Hibiscus, was published to wide critical praise. Her second novel, Half of A Yellow Sun, won the 2007 Orange Prize for fiction, a much-deserved accolade for a stunning piece of literature. (It also was a finalist for the National Book Critics Circle Award for fiction.)

Adichie’s work is rooted in Nigeria.
Half of A Yellow Sun details the tragic story of ethnic cleansing and starvation that occurred in Nigeria during the late 1960’s. After colonization ended in Nigeria, conflicts arose over what government should now rule the country. The land was split into two opposing parties and war erupted as each tried to gain ground. The cost of this war is immeasurable; today it is estimated that up to three million people may have died due to the conflict. Through a cast of complex and developed characters, Adichie weaves us through the tangled history of her country’s past. The dramatic effects of the war are demonstrated in the lives of five people, each holding unique political and social stature. As we walk through Nigeria with Adichie, the reader confronts both the wounds of war and of daily living.
Adichie pairs unbelievable tragedy with common everyday experience. In one particularly dark chapter, Richard, a British citizen witnesses a bloody massacre. Adichie writes, “There were more soldiers now, more shots, more shouts of 'nyamiri!' and 'Araba, araba!'. The bartender was writhing on the floor and the gurgle that came from his mouth was guttural." This scene of utter destruction is then followed by a domestic interaction with Richard and his wife. Upon greeting her husband, Susan asks him, “And how was Martin’s wedding?” Such a question paints a sharp contrast between the safety of Richard’s home and the scene he witnessed just hours before. Later that evening in the bathroom, Richard is shocked to discover that this tragic event has left no permanent marking on his physical body. Life goes on, he discovers, in the most mundane ways.
Adichie successfully accomplishes addressing both large and small-scale tragedy. Not only does she paint a vivid picture of her country during a time of immense suffering and corruption, but she also creates dynamic characters that face the common trials of day-to-day living. Interactions between employers and employees, lovers and friends, sisters and brothers are laid bare before us. The reader connects with the emotions and the trials of these people, even though the backdrop of these relationships is far more horrific than most people will ever be part of.

Although not born until the late Seventies, Adichie visits a part of her nation’s history that had a profound effect on her family’s life. She visits a time that her own parents painfully lived through, and credits much of her novel to the stories and the strength they shared with her. She writes that her wise and loving father ended many of his stories with the words agha ajoka, which translates, “war is very ugly”. But both of her parents made sure that Adichie knew that what mattered most about their personal narrative is that they survived. By diving into the past, Adichie joins a host of young writers who confront the historical narratives of their home countries. Not content to merely write about their own personal histories, these writers dip into the past to both expose the tragedy that their people lived through and the indeterminable strength that brought about a new generation, a generation of hope.
Two years ago, I was able to attend a conference on Women Writing War. During the event, I met Ms. Adichie in the woman’s bathroom. As a blossoming writer, I was awestruck with Adichie’s immense talent as a writer. She and I talked for a few brief moments, and I became overwhelmed with the radiance that emanated from her small frame. Clearly the daughter of a tragic time, Adichie has found ways to reclaim her family and her nation’s history. This novel is a testament not only to the tragedy of Nigeria, but of the strength and grace that is required to face and to overcome immense suffering.
Related:
Editor’s Note: "Borderless" is a
column that focuses on literature of immigration and diaspora, featuring reviews of well-known, under-known, and new
texts. Get to know its author, Monet Moutrie, here.
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