Woman after my very own brain now! Ah-ah…I beg. What is it with you that makes me go after your books with so much intent like the Mafisi manifesto rule no.64, go hard-don’t stop for anything and yeah you might die in the process but go anyway.
The first time I read your books, I had a mixed feelings. Yes. I felt dumb and at the same time so enlightened by your literacy prowess. That was Half of a yellow sun and you left me hanging. Where did Kainene go?! How do you think Richard felt being jilted in a warring Nigeria and food without salt since you said you’ve gone to get some and never showed back? Kainene, wherever you are, the question was for you missy!
Then there was your TedTalk Africa speech, We Should All Be Feminists. I mostly wear timberlands and sneakers since I live on a rocky patch of Kenyan terrain that I won’t mention here, but because of you, I too want to be a happy African feminist who doesn’t hate men and who likes to wear lip-gloss and high heels for herself and not for men. That said, I now wear heels.
Yes I also read The thing around your neck and won’t discuss it but advice y’all to read it for yourselves. Trust me, your mind is gonna be blown all over the place like it did on your very first kiss with your crush, yes right? (Am smiling so hard right now)
Now the book that had me doing a Maryjane was Purple Hibiscus. What’s a Maryjane you ask? Let me school you a little child. This is where Chimamanda is about to make an expose between a catholic priest and a fifteen year old Kambili and she sets a really steamy, romantic setting and there is music playing in the background and some revelation of skin and breathe gasping moments and at the same damn time your bladder is in dire need of attention but you already hooked to the moment and you know if you go now, it will be lost forever and your life will most probably never be the same again( reserve for those over-dramatic queens like myself and Nelly Kimathi and Juliet and kwanza Sonnie and Fiona when Thursday turns into Friday) so you ask yourself, “What would MJ do?”
A Maryjane, child is where you carry the darn book, your phone and earphones to the damn potty room. What are hand washes and wipes for if not to kill the microbes later?
To all those reading addicts that do a Maryjane once in a while and love the thrill of release but you get crushed to find out that the only dirty mind in the room was you and Kambili and the young, obviously hot Catholic priest is really not into you but into what the Lord can do for your sinful mind? Hit me up with news about Jaja and that nice auntie of theirs, ey?