Reflections: We Need New Names

Short-listed for the Man Booker Prize and garnering some prestigious literary awards, this is a powerful and raw debut novel that candidly addresses the inter-tangled issues of immigration, identity, and coming of age. Darling is a young ten year old girl in the poverty-striken, ravaged land of Zimbabwe. She and her friends live through their family's despair by playing simple games through which they try to live their fantasies of living a better life; a life in the precious country of United States, a life where they can wear good clothes, eat decent food, go to good schools, and lead a dignified life. Darling's aunt lives in the United States, so Darling nurtures the strong hope that she would one day leave her wretched country and her bitter memories, and start a new life in America. One day, she manages to go to the U.S. But reality is different.

In the U.S, her aunt lives in a different kind of poverty and desperation. Darling sees her aunt working round the clock to send money and materials to the hungry family in Zimbabwe that assumes that everyone in the U.S lives a wealthy, comfortable life. The family back home appears parasitic to Darling. Amidst all the changes, confusions, and bitterness, Darling grows into a teenager who realizes she is now in no-man's land. She does not have enough money to go back home, nor a valid visa status to legally study or work in the U.S. Her only option is to work for low wages, be in constant hiding from the authorities, and make ends meet in a foreign land that does not offer any of the things she was hoping for. She has to face the heart twisting reality of probably never seeing her mom, her friends, or feel the familiarity of her land again.

When I read the book last November, I did not think much of it. It seemed like yet another book on immigration concerning a lost African child. What did strike me was how confident the writing was, and how un-apologetically raw, sharp and honest everything about it was. It has a rather abrupt ending, but rightfully so, because such stories have no ending in real life. Such real life stories are left hanging, just like the people that are hanging onto fragments of their past and present in hopes of making something of a future. I have realized that the more I let a book live with me in my thoughts, the more I learn about it, the more honed and mature my opinions of it are. After all these months, thinking about this book has made me revise my initial neutrality towards it. All the scenarios described in the book are coming back to me with rich, vivid frames that will always stay in my memory when I think about immigrants that have left their lands to barely make ends meet. And I think such strong recollections of key scenarios and characters of the book are marks of a good book. I can forget the story and the details, but I will never forget Darling's emotions and that of her aunt's. I may even forget Darling's name, but not some of the core scenes.

There is one scene in specific that clinched the book's essence. It's something I will always remember. Darling's aunt who is making her living in the U.S. decides to phone-order something for herself from Victoria's Secret. Her conversation with the sales representative from Victoria's Secret was so poignant and evocative of all her internal struggles and sadness that I will never forget the emotions that transpired. Her struggle to make herself understood to a foreign representative, her adamance to not change her accent because it is who she is, and her attempt at convincing herself and the girl on the line that she can, she ought to, and she deserves to order an expensive inner garment for herself said it all about the illegal immigrant experience.

Zimbabwe's socio-political scene is extremely complicated and riddled with historic legacies of racism. Bulawayo doesn't go into details, but merely outlines crucial aspects of it through the observations of a child's eye. This makes it all the more tragic.

In all, this is a strong and impressive debut novel that seems to require some time and reflection for the raw sadness to settle in. Although the book is short and the writing is simple, the writing evokes scenes and characters in a unique way, making the book memorable and powerful. I am looking forward to more of Bulawayo's books!

Reflections: The Thing Around Your Neck

I started reading Adichie’s Purple Hibiscus a couple of years back, but given my mental state then, I couldn’t stand the distressing nature of the story and abandoned it half-way. But I did like Adichie’s writing that I sought another book of hers - something that didn’t have to do with wars, and I was left with this book of short-stories. I quite liked the book, but back then, I hadn’t yet stumbled into the phase of recording my thoughts on every book I read, so I just shelved my thoughts. However, I was reminded of the book when recently, I came across this TED video of Adichie’s talk.

Just a short while ago, I had written about my curiosity to know about the person behind the pen/words. Quite surprisingly, Adichie’s voice and speech were exactly as I had imagined. I was impressed by her confidence and measured words, which made clear she was of substance. Her speech was on the dangers of stereotyping and narrowing one’s perspectives because of the kinds of stories the media (books, television, movies, Internet) chooses to concentrate and perpetuate. All through her talk, I was reminded of the many different insightful stories she had written in this book. So, although this post is about two years late, better late then never, I told myself.

People in developed countries have certain common images and impressions about developing countries - poverty, unrest, illiteracy, disease, violence, and corruption. They are not wrong. It is indeed true that cows languish on Indian roads, and every street corner is likely to have a crude little temple teeming with superstitious people. But to latch onto just these, and assume that the country is made of cows and superstitions, is gross ignorance. To eradicate people’s stereotypes, their ignorance, misunderstanding and oversimplification of Africa, Adichie presents twelve different stories of Nigerians.

Through a host of well-defined and different characters, Adichie shows that there are Nigerians who are well-educated, well-read and refined, who own good cars, travel abroad, are distinguished authors, journalists, university professors, and doctors. She also writes about those who are riddled with poverty and struggle to make a living as shunned immigrants in the US; those who stray from education due to the ravaging influence of war, violence and communal disputes; those beguiled women who find themselves as dependent wives to their partly Americanized, over-bearing, chauvinistic husbands; those ambitious immigrants who succumb to the illusion of milk and honey; those young girls who grow to hate their own brothers because of the excessive favoritism they receive; those well-meaning elders who cloister themselves with misguided notions of culture, and end up oppressing and subjugating women.

Every story is honest, and speaks volumes. The stories on immigration, the conflicts between cultures, the dilemma of  going back home, the violence, communal riots, and deep-seated belief in complex values, go across borders and ring true to anyone from a developing country. I could relate to almost every story, but my most favorite was The American Embassy. It says a lot when you get moved to tears by a single short-story. I thought it captured Africa (or rather Nigeria), and the relationship between the US and developing nations, in a nutshell.

Although some stories might seem a little abrupt and incomplete, what impressed me most was the simplicity of Adichie’s words, and the vivid, and perfect characterization that the stories achieve despite the parsimony of words. I can never do that, and I commend authors who can powerfully capture the insights, and the million and one hues of the characters and the story through simple, honest words.

Digested Thoughts: I enjoyed reading this book of short-stories. The stories are simple, honest, and powerful. They truthfully speak the unheard stories of Nigerians. Adichie’s simple and solemn writing does not try to dim any rough edge.