Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie’s acclaimed third novel, Americanah, follows the story of Ifemulu and Obinze; two ambitious, middle-class teenagers that migrate to the West in search of a better life. Shaped in large part by the media they consumed, conventional wisdom and the incomplete report of other diasporas, Ifemulu and Obinze opted to trade a life of unpredictability and limited choices for their romanticized notions about the U.S. and the U.K.
Quickly confronted by the reality of being an African migrant in the West, the characters’ sense of disenchantment, alienation and dislocation leads to them moving back to their newly idealized “home” country. Where they experience a similar sense of alienation and disenchantment.
In a plot that spans over 15 years, the bulk of the novel provides a long and vivid account of Ifemulu’s and Obinze’s experiences in the West. And whilst some have continued to describe this book as being a love story or a book about race in America, its importance does not solely lie in such readings.
Instead, what has made Americanah a unique entry is its ability to clearly articulate the challenges of leaving home as well as coming back to it. The underlying feeling of otherness that separates those that are conditioned to continually revere the West and those that had to develop a critical awareness of its power structures in order to survive it.
With Americanah celebrating its 10th year since its first publication, this book is highly recommended to those that not only view the West as the promise land but to those that continue to otherize the select number of returnees that are critical of their home countries.
In this respect, the stereotypes, prejudices and misconceptions that shape the lives and experiences of Americanah’s characters are particularly relevant to our Ethiopian readership. For our skewed perception of life in the West is only matched by how we view and conditionally accept those wishing to return home.
An acceptance that is quickly rescinded if our fellow diasporas are brave enough to do what Ifemulu does and question our own ladders of hierarchy; be they based on gender, class, age, ethnicity or other social constructs.