What shall we say of a person who has seen it all, experienced it all, has loved, been loved; has walked through the swamp of emotion but remains unbroken? To what shall we ascribe the courage of a human, just one human, who fights for men, protects the women and children and still stands tall, unmarked, unscathed like she never lifted a finger?
What shall we call this human, this rare species of homo sapiens, who pulls down the walls of racism, stereotypes, gender profiling, sexism; who dares to speak truth to power; who rejects a national honour because it was coming from a person of dishonour. What shall we call such a person who does these and more without a gun; without the backing of state power or the might of a mutinous army? But by just the power of words: written words poignantly etched. Spoken works eloquently and firmly delivered.
We shall call her Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie. We shall call her the Odeluwa (the one who writes for the world). We shall call her the writers’ writer; the great bard with a badge of effortless beauty; a spring of glamour, a bouquet of brain; a story teller, a weaver of words. We shall say she’s an African Queen who conquered her world, indeed the world. We shall nod in the affirmative to validate her unblemished veracities, her genuine Africanness, Nigerianness and Igboness. We shall affirm, with certitude, that she’s a true original. No faking. No cheap and offensive ornamentation. No moulting of her chocolate skin just to be accepted by racist merchants of a fading civilization. Just full expression of melanoid.
We shall say she was born beautiful. Nature’s specimen that expresses the majesty of the Creator. Beauty pro-max. Brain that emits high voltage of knowledge. Brawn made only for royalty. Her voice, a range of mezzo-soprano; soft, yet firm; piercing, yet soothing. A voice that has wafted through halls, ballrooms, galleries and theatres. A voice globally recognizable, speaking to illuminate, rebuking bad behaviour, giving hope to the underclass, birthing new ideas, shaping critical thinking, rousing the rabble and pointing one and all to the priceless common factor that binds us all: our shared humanity. A voice heard in Africa, Asia, Europe, the Americas and indeed, all over the world. Her voice is a million decibels of truth, honesty and courage. Chimamanda’s voice is a ticker in the sub-conscious of the world.
To her, humanity is one. No race barriers. No superiority contest. Every race counts. Every skin pigment is just as good as the other. To her, every gender is as important as the other. Justice, equity, fairness should define the conduct of humanity. To her, leadership must be responsibly infectious. It’s a message she has preached consistently across the world, across platforms. How often do we keep referencing her standout TED Talk in 2009, the Danger of a Single Story: a timeless message that emblazoned in our hearts the inherent risks in believing a single story and making judgment based on just one perspective of a story. She prescribes plurality of perspectives on a story to enable humanity make informed, balanced and fair adjudication. In 2012, she jolted the global community to rethink the concept of feminism through her revolutionary ‘We Should All Be Feminists’ message which hit at the subconscious of humanity especially the male chauvinists on the necessity to create the ambience that engender a more gender-equal world.
Words are powerful. Words create, recreate and reform. Words, spoken or written, give hope, succour the soul, build bridges in the hearts of humanity, fire imagination and can make even a midget realise there is a giant within his small human casing. These are the kind of words Chimamanda speaks from Africa to Asia to Europe and the Americas. Words that heal, not torment. Even the Bible says that “pleasant words are like honeycomb, sweetness to the soul and health to the bones.” Chimamanda has used words to serenade the soul of humanity. Words fitly spoken. Words encased in grace.
But it’s in her written words that Chimamanda captured the world. A global audience entranced by her pen. Her global popularity is a function of her written words. At 48, she has ticked generational boxes in the manner that only a genius could. Novels, short stories, poems, children’s books became the vehicles of her expressions.
Purple Hibiscus (2003), Half of a Yellow Sun (2006), The Thing Around Your Neck (2009), Americanah (2013), We Should All Be Feminists (2014), Dear Ijeawele, or A Feminist Manifesto in Fifteen Suggestions (2017), Dream Count (2025, her latest work) and others. Chimamanda has found a special way to make the world laugh, cry and laugh again. She unwraps our foibles, our frailties but still points us to our strength. A ready writer with a rare knack to connect the past with the present; a reminder that a writer merely holds up a mirror through which society is seen. Chimamanda through her works has addressed diverse issues of racism, gender bias, family, leadership or lack of it, inclusivity, reparation and compensation, poverty and care. Through words, she has rebuked plutocrats, upbraided extreme capitalists, chided kleptocrats and all those who exploit the ignorance and helplessness of the dregs of society to deny them healthcare and education and any such thing that would have lifted them out of the dump of squalor.
Chimamanda is not a politician, not in public service, bears no placards as symbol of activism; but she has achieved just by writing and speaking what many street banner-bearing activists could not achieve. Her weapon is word. Words more potent than bullets and bombs. All through the ages, the most effective weapon for positive change and development is enlightenment, a deliberate mental liberation of the people. This is the ministry of Odeluwa; the ministry of words. She dwells in what one of my favourite writers, Prince Uthman Shodipe-Dosunmu, calls the Republic of Letters.
On Monday, September 15, she turned 48. This little literary effort is only just to wish a worthy leader of the literary troop a HAPPY BIRTHDAY.
