Literary Fiction by People of Color discussion

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Under the Udala Trees
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Discussion: Under the Udala Trees


I didn't even think about the language as a barrier. That makes a lot of sense.

Another angle that I think Poingu was pointing towards and something I noticed while reading is that there was a more specific voice in Ijeoma as the book progresses. With the exception of part 2 (where Ijeoma seems a little too saavy for her age), I thought the author did a great job at narratives which changed as Ijeoma aged. At 13, the emotional needs etc for a relationship are significantly less complex than say a 25 year old woman. I think there wasn't much description because not that much is required of friendship at 13 years old. Of course George's assessment of the language barrier sort of underscores the lack of requirements at that age. I don't think they could have had that kind of connection (especially with a language barrier) if they had been 3-4 years older.

I love all the responses on this so far.
I think I missed this because of the switch in chronology Ms. Okparanta did with Part II and III. I was caught up in the dread and sensationalism of what I knew was going to happen and so I think I filled in a lot of their interactions with meanings that were implied by Part II but not really given exposition in Part III. Looking over the text, I see they meet in the first month (September? 1968), have one conversation, and then it is January 1970 (physical relationship starts), and then August 1970 (they are found out). Not a lot of time to go into detail about their relationship. So it does seem to have more to do with Ijeoma's growth and the milestones she experienced and the development of her identity, rather than being a fleshed out love story.
I was originally thinking first love is not really explainable, but it does seem interesting that it took over a year before their relationship became physical, when their kinship was so instantaneous. The narration ties it in with the end of the war, so maybe that is implied as a catalyst? That they could let down their guard more when the fighting stopped?


I'm inclined to agree, at least at this juncture. I'm at Part V, which gets more intense, but there wasn't a lot of development regarding the "sexual awakening." Then again, maybe I'm just being ignorant in assuming that Ijeoma's attraction to Amina had to be accompanied by fireworks and passionate lovemaking (kinda gross, since they're kids!). I don't think Ijeoma was even thinking about the nature of her actions; it was just something that was happening, for lack of a better description.

I also found the timeline reversal of Part 2 and Part 3 a very interesting choice. It creates a very different effect that if the narrative had gone in chronological order. The whole time you read about the relationship with Amina, you're aware of the punishment Ijeoma will receive.

I really feel the mothers intent was to come back but after so long it was easy for her to rationalize with herself to not do it. Do others feel her apology to Ijeoma was sincere?
The current state of gay rights in Nigeria:
Federal law classifies homosexual behavior as a felony punishable by imprisonment, but several states have adopted sharia law and imposed a death penalty for men. A law signed in early January makes it illegal for gay people countrywide to hold a meeting (or even) form clubs.
Somehow I'm not so sympathetic to this mother. I'm not so convinced she was intending to come back for her daughter at all to be honest. If she hadn't received the call from the schoolmaster about Ijeoma she may still be awaiting her mother. For those brave parents or progressives (however few) who have stood up to hate and discriminatory practices and should be commended, I'm less inclined to overlook some of these folk who doubled-down on their hate and hid behind their selective religious ideologies.
Federal law classifies homosexual behavior as a felony punishable by imprisonment, but several states have adopted sharia law and imposed a death penalty for men. A law signed in early January makes it illegal for gay people countrywide to hold a meeting (or even) form clubs.
Somehow I'm not so sympathetic to this mother. I'm not so convinced she was intending to come back for her daughter at all to be honest. If she hadn't received the call from the schoolmaster about Ijeoma she may still be awaiting her mother. For those brave parents or progressives (however few) who have stood up to hate and discriminatory practices and should be commended, I'm less inclined to overlook some of these folk who doubled-down on their hate and hid behind their selective religious ideologies.

Federal law classifies homosexual behavior as a felony punishable by imprisonment, but several states have adopted sharia law and imposed a death penalt..."
I agree with your sentiments, Columbus.

I'd also much prefer to see mom act more progressively or at least show some understanding with regards to her daughter's sexuality. She clearly didn't rise above her limitations, which were largely shared with her society of course. I've finished the book though so I'll withhold further comment for now.


My belated comments for Part 4 are:
1) what were they thinking sending them to the same school? Surely they would have just not sent one of them if one school was the only choice.
2) I was frustrated by Amina's claim that she wanted the marriage; it seemed the subtext was that she was lying so she wouldn't have to deal with her feelings for Ijeoma. It would have been nice if Amina and Ijeoma's mother both had the courage to come out and say, "Look, right or wrong, you could die and so we are making these choices to keep you alive. Is that so bad?" It would have been more direct and more palatable to me. I thought what happened in the story was realistic, though, just frustrating.


That would be interesting to find out.
George wrote: "but what did Amina's mother actually know?"
Sorry, my phrasing was confusing. I meant Amina herself. I think it may have been true that Amina was making a decision based on self-preservation. I often have this feeling in "thwarted love" stories, why can't the person who abandons the other - Amina in this case - have the courage to say, "I do have strong feelings for you, but I have a spouse/responsibility to children/desire not to be burned at the stake/fill in the blank, and so I cannot see you again."? I guess if the decision itself is too painful they aren't able to be open and vulnerable about it.

Okay, now I remember, Part 5 was Ijeoma's foray into the Nigerian underground lesbian community, and her decision to marry when things go bad. I found this section to be surprising. I felt so hopeful, even knowing the dangers, about Ijeoma finding this community and having a place where she could feel like herself, and know she was not alone, that there was a whole other world at her fingertips. It was romantic, and would have been even if she had never found physical romance, if that makes sense.
And then we read of the horrific fate of Adanna's gay university friends, and then of Adanna herself, and it woke me up to reality. I was really shocked. I think up until then I was denying the Nigerian reality and thinking of it like, I don't know, Stonewall in the 60's, maybe. It really made me question if I would ever be brave enough to try to live as myself, if it meant facing the possibility of being burned at the stake. Just too much to comprehend.
Michael wrote: "Columbus wrote: "Discussion open now through Part 5"
Okay, now I remember, Part 5 was Ijeoma's foray into the Nigerian underground lesbian community, and her decision to marry when things go bad. ..."
Michael, all I have to say on this is Okparanta is so on point with how she handled this underground community. The secrecy of getting together with other like-minded souls to underground establishments disguised as churches and such are so familiar to many in the LGBTQ community. The danger and discrimination you faced by homophobes and even those there to protect and serve were unmistakable.
So, not only do we have Nigerians hiding in bunkers to avoid the chaos from the Nigerian civil war. We now have some of those same individuals, same-gender-loving individuals hiding in bunkers to escape another war. A war on those who should be free to love whomever they like.
Okay, now I remember, Part 5 was Ijeoma's foray into the Nigerian underground lesbian community, and her decision to marry when things go bad. ..."
Michael, all I have to say on this is Okparanta is so on point with how she handled this underground community. The secrecy of getting together with other like-minded souls to underground establishments disguised as churches and such are so familiar to many in the LGBTQ community. The danger and discrimination you faced by homophobes and even those there to protect and serve were unmistakable.
So, not only do we have Nigerians hiding in bunkers to avoid the chaos from the Nigerian civil war. We now have some of those same individuals, same-gender-loving individuals hiding in bunkers to escape another war. A war on those who should be free to love whomever they like.

That would be interesting to find out.
George wrote: "but what did Amina's mother actually know?"
Sorry,..." No, I'm sorry. My first thought on reading your response was that I'd somehow missed something in the book. Now I see I missed something in your response instead.
I wasn't sure what exactly prompted Amina's withdrawal from the relationship, fear, some resurgent sense of religion, some realization perhaps she wasn't really lesbian. This is more or less what Ijeoma's mother hoped, that this was somehow some sort of adolescent experimentation, which of course it clearly wasn't. I guess we're free to fill in our own answer according to our preference. Sad enough though no matter what with regard to Ijeoma.
Yes, chapter 5 was a wakeup call to be sure. for me, it puts Ijeoma's mother's actions into some context, although I wouldn't let her get off completely. but it seems the general reaction to these deaths was more or less agreement that this should be the outcome of deviant behavior. how grotesque. Okparanta does quite a job with this chapter letting us see this unfold.

Yes, I was intrigued by what appeared to be her mellowing at the end of Part 5 at the wedding:
"Then she softened, shook her head slowly, and studied me some more. Finally she said, 'Nwa m, ke ihe ichoro ka m me? My child, what do you want me to do? A woman and a woman cannot be. That's not the way it's done. You must let go of any remaining thoughts you have of that.' "
Her "That's not the way it's done" seemed milder than her thorough sermons of Part 2. She doesn't even shame Ijeoma for thinking it. It was hard to tell from her words if her mother meant it's not the way it's done according to God, or according to society. If the latter, perhaps her position on God was a societal one all along, and not a religious one. Again, we don't see into her heart, I don't think. And Ijeoma doesn't seem to speculate, that I remember. So as you say, we must fill in our own answers. And the reality is there are families with all versions of the answer so perhaps the specifics are not important...

George said: I wasn't sure what exactly prompted Amina's withdrawal from the relationship, fear, some resurgent sense of religion, some realization perhaps she wasn't really lesbian.
My thoughts were that this is Ijeoma's story. We don't actually know much about Amina's thoughts or feelings at all except as Ijeoma saw them. I saw them as finding comfort in each other at a very young age and all of the requisite emotional encumbrance that go with that. I would agree with Michael that sending them away to the same school seemed cruel. I'm not convinced that this was an intended to inflict emotional distress on either child. It was possible that the adults felt that the emotional ties were situational (war time, missing parents etc) and that the two girls were friends who had internalized their (adults/parents scriptures) teachings and had grown up (see grown out (matured) of their adolescent tryst) and would perhaps be a comfort to know someone else at the school. I find it plausible that Amina could love Ijeoma enough to want to give her whatever she wants, but still not necessarily be lesbian. She wants to please the person that she loves more than anyone. It is equally plausible that Amina was a lesbian but chose bury her true self and trod the well worn path of "normalcy". Maybe that is part of the tale. Even in terms of sexual preferences and/or strong emotions like love, there are no absolutes. It isn't necessarily an either/or proposition.
What I think Part 5 did was to firmly establish that Ijeoma was a lesbian. No confusion or misinterpretations.


I was also surprised that Ijeoma decided on marriage, but understood the fear and pressure of conforming to societies norms. Sadly, religious guilt is also playing a part whether her mother's opinions come from true religious belief or societal conformity. These attitudes are unfortunately still alive and well in the US and, like George said, I'd be interested in finding out more about Nigeria today and the LGBTQ community.
I have to finish up the book this weekend as it's due back to the library and I'm really looking forward to finding out how it all plays out.


I forgot to say I liked how you said this, Columbus. And the layers of hiding reminds me of the plight of oppressed groups within oppressed groups. Like queer folk in the Black community in America, already involved in the struggle of surviving racism, and then having homophobia/transphobia layered on top.

I hadn't noticed that, but I think I see that in hindsight. It was not just her naivety that was going away, it was her child-like perspective.

And I also really appreciated Columbus's comments about the bunkers--the chilling parallel between the Nigerian civil war and the war on those who love the same gender.

Karen Michele ~ In reality, the war on the LGBTQ community in Nigeria is still in full throttle. It's hard enough to imagine having to run and hide in bunkers lest you be burned at the stake for being gay much less than admit that this is fact and not fiction, that this is relevant today and not history. Same-sex relationships were made illegal in Nigeria in 2014. Lesbians, gays and their supporters now face jail time or death by stoning.

I finished the book yesterday and saw the legal decision in the end notes. I still have a feeling of despair in the pit of my stomach both for Ijeoma and for the people of Nigeria. I am staggering under the weight of the word "abomination" used in the name of religion. I moved from empathy to a more visceral reaction when I read the first 3 pages of Part 6. My wonderful son was born with a cleft lip and palate in 1987. I couldn't figure out why the nurse who brought him over covered his mouth and told me to look at what beautiful eyes he had and told me how surgery was available to fix the lip when all I wanted was to be with him. It was because nurses and doctors have seen parents reject the "imperfect" child. I understand that not all countries have the medical treatment we have here and I am certainly grateful for the fact that so much could be done for my son, but to read that it would be thought a curse to have a child with a "harelip" rather than even a hardship and medical problem made me feel just a little of the pain that Ijeoma was going through. I don't think that was a spoiler for Part 6, but I'll stop there just in case.

There is so much in Part 6 that I can't wait to discuss. I came to this group just over a week ago so I was playing catch up on the book. It was such a heart rendering story that I couldn't stop at Part 4 or 5.
Karen Michele wrote: "Michelle wrote: "Sunita makes a good point about the social positions that the girls were in. I don't think that Amina's decisions came from a place of confusion about her sexual orientation so muc..."
Wow, thanks for sharing that information, Karen.
I recall this article in '14 from the Guardian where Nigerian authors speak out on the aforementioned laws that Michelle was referencing. In fact, Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie speaks out quite a bit about this.
http://www.theguardian.com/books/2014...
Wow, thanks for sharing that information, Karen.
I recall this article in '14 from the Guardian where Nigerian authors speak out on the aforementioned laws that Michelle was referencing. In fact, Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie speaks out quite a bit about this.
http://www.theguardian.com/books/2014...
I agree with the rest of you. There is so much (more) to discuss in this lovely book.
"In a life story full of dreams, there is even more dreams." Ijeoma says. There are musings on dreams particularly at the end of the novel if I recall correctly.
She also mentions Hebrew 8 I think. Have it in my notes for some reason (don't have the book in front of me).
No spoilers -- book is open -- No spoilers -- book is open
"In a life story full of dreams, there is even more dreams." Ijeoma says. There are musings on dreams particularly at the end of the novel if I recall correctly.
She also mentions Hebrew 8 I think. Have it in my notes for some reason (don't have the book in front of me).
No spoilers -- book is open -- No spoilers -- book is open

The latter half was more digestible. I was hopeful that her marriage might actually work out. Not that she would ever become hetero, but that her husband would be understanding and kind. He seemed to start out that way. He seemed temporarily mollified by the birth of his daughter. He even seemed to have at least an idea that she was gay. But with the discovery of her love letters and the traditional belief that no union is complete without a son he soon becomes a bully and rapist. I wonder how many women (and men) put up with continued abuse for fear of punishment under their Draconian anti-gay laws.

I was never hopeful that her marriage would work and couldn't really see how Ijeoma would think that it would. I blame her to some extent in that she put both her husband and herself into what was an impossible situation, which could have ended far more tragically. What I found interesting was the reaction of her gay friends who told her to do it. He does seem to have been a decent person until he came to understand that she would never offer him the love and affection he had every reason to expect from her. It wasn't an arranged marriage in the traditional sense. He knew her, or at least believed he did and married more or less for love. At least he thought he did. To me, he more or less went mad over time and became more than a bully and rapist, but potentially very dangerous.
It's clear from the novel, Igbo society and Nigeria as a whole left her and the rest of the gay community no solution except to hide their nature or somehow suppress it. That doesn't seem to have changed into the 21st century and it's a situation that appears to be shared with other African countries and with other countries as well, particularly Russia and large chunks of the Middle East.


I took it as acceptance. This quote from her mother was what sold me:
“And now she began muttering to herself. "God , who created you, must have known what He did. Enough is enough.”


Ijeoma seems a little protected by the author from the most likely outcomes she would have experienced. I thought her husband was going to put her in the hospital with multiple stabs to her body, for instance, not make a single minor flesh wound on her thigh. Lesbians get burned alive in this novel, but at a respectful distance from Ijeoma and from the reader's view. I was able to read this scene and move on without extreme emotion.
As I read I was thinking frequently of my experience reading An Untamed State where my head was held close to some horrific violence to a woman's body. In comparison this book about the madness of civil war and about the extreme hatred and violence toward LGBT's felt gentle.
I'm not complaining. I was glad actually to get a break from visceral violence in my reading about bad things happening to women. But that's a weird kind of relief when I'm reading a book about violence to women.
I'm wondering what other people thought, and if you think the book would be more effective if the author had chosen to portray Untamed State-like scenes, and to put Ijeoma herself through more trauma as a character rather than have the worst things happen at arm's length.

It's odd, but the first adjective I want to apply to this is "sweet." It's as if I see the 12-year-old child, with her strong sense of self and logic, as the central character, and while some bad things happened along her journey, that wonderful child is the one I still see. In a perverse way I see the violence as incidental to the character I've fallen in love with.
When I finished this, I immediately wanted to read it all over again, while I never want to go anywhere near An Untamed State again. But I couldn't tell you which one is better literature, or which one makes a more persuasive case for social justice. (Although with An Untamed State I'm not sure I could even say where justice lies.)
I wonder if the question of religion enters here at all? Ijeoma ends this novel with perhaps even more religious faith than she started it with. I don't know if the author shares that faith, and if there are perhaps questions of salvation and forgiveness that are driving the author's choice of presentation?

Sunita wrote: "I liked the choices Okparanta made in the novel. The historical context is so brutal--a civil war where so many were dying and suffering, and then the violent repression of LGBT Nigerians. If the p..."
Haha, Sunita I was just typing essentially the exact same thing --almost verbatim. I was going to use Marlon James's ABHOSK as an example of an exaggerated violence to highlight the brutality one faced and to hit the reader over the head with it.. The author even in a sort of minimalist or covert manner was able to spotlight the evilness in a most profound fashion.
Haha, Sunita I was just typing essentially the exact same thing --almost verbatim. I was going to use Marlon James's ABHOSK as an example of an exaggerated violence to highlight the brutality one faced and to hit the reader over the head with it.. The author even in a sort of minimalist or covert manner was able to spotlight the evilness in a most profound fashion.
In addition to that, we had the occasional sissy murdered for no known reason -- other than being gay, and other more subtle acts of abhorrent discrimination. She made her point rather clearly. But, she acutely balanced this hatred with a touching love story and hope.

I liked her choices too. I felt taken care of as a reader and not repulsed, so I could read and understand vs. feeling bludgeoned by the violence, the way other books have done.

yes, for me it's a story of potential redemption, reconciliation and of course, love. The horrors of the war are not denied, the reality of prejudice, fear and rejection and the blood price paid by the innocent forced to live in hiding and self-denial is laid out for the reader to see, but Okparanta doesn't want us to focus on horror, but on the potential and possibility of a very different future. it's a profoundly optimistic ending.
Books mentioned in this topic
An Untamed State (other topics)October Mourning: A Song for Matthew Shepard (other topics)
Oranges Are Not the Only Fruit (other topics)
Oranges Are Not the Only Fruit (other topics)
Radiance of Tomorrow (other topics)
More...
Authors mentioned in this topic
Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie (other topics)Ishmael Beah (other topics)
Ama Ata Aidoo (other topics)
Holly, I read this lack of development as a first-person narrator who was circumspectly telling her story, with as much respect as possible for the people she loved. The narrator, who is Ijeoma as an adult looking back on her life, has as much "character"-ness to me as the people in the story she's telling me. I imagine her sitting across a table from a Western journalist who is there reporting on the state of LGBT life in Nigeria. She's telling the story to someone she trusts, but who is still a relative stranger.
I don't know if anyone else reads this way but I always need to orient myself, in first-person novels, to who the "I" is who is telling the story.