Chimamanda Adichie Americanah Novels & Stories

“Just go have your coffee. You don’t want to be late for work today.” But Alex ignored her. He walked to the living room, reached for the remote in her hand, and switched back to the previous channel. His heart nearly stopped. There, on the television screen, was Amarachi Akwarandu. Alive. Breathing. Smiling. She sat elegantly in a studio, her posture regal, her voice strong as she addressed the interviewer. She was being applauded for making history in the United States; becoming the first African woman to build and expand her company in record time, surpassing even established giants.

May entered Edric's room, packed all her belongings that were inside and carried them to Maryam's room. After she had placed them neatly at the end of her daughter's room, she turned to Maryam, who was sitting crossed leg and reading another novel. This one was bigger than the first book. "And what are you reading now, Maryam?" She looked up from her book with a smile. "Americana by Chimamanda Adichie." May rolled her eyes. "Where do you get all these books from?" "Sandra's older sister gave it to me. I'll have to return it on Monday."

"That is good then. Just make dinner for me and run my bath, I am retiring early to bed today." "Okay ma" After eating and having my bath, I am on my bed reading a Americanah, an African themed novel by an African author, called Chimamanda Adichie, suddenly I remember what Nelly said to me at the restaurant but I just bluff it. My phone rings, I check the caller ID, it shows Alyssa with a heart emoji after the name. "Why is this smallie calling me?" I pick up the phone call. "Woman, what do you want?" I playfully ask her.

He scoffed, "son? Nah! His son isn't interested at all in the company. He's based abroad." "Oh." Amirah felt there was more from the way he clenched his fist on the table and tightened his jaw so she decided to change the topic. "So what tribe are you?" "Hausa." She rolled her eyes, "be serious." He laughed, "I am. My great grandfather is from Gombe, he moved to Lagos and he married a Yoruba woman as second wife, she gave birth to my grandfather who also married a Yoruba woman. My mom is Yoruba too so you can say I'm half Hausa and half Yoruba."

Agbai said. "His lifestyle or morals has nothing to do with his economics," I said. "Okay, I agree with you on that one. Um... You said you read Nigerian books, which one have you guys read." "Chimamanda's Purple Hibiscus, Americana, a whole lot," I said. "But I like Wole Soyinka's A Dance In The Forest and..." I paused to think of the other book. "Things Fall Apart," Raymond added. "Yes, that's it. Chinua Achebe's Things Fall Apart." I said.

"In this part of the world we don't ask that. We just spread our arms out and smile." CHIDEZIRI She spread her arms out wide like a barney mascot at a kindergarten party and.... Boy! did she smile! AMANDA That night, i stay up all through reading A.H Mohammeed's Forcados high school for what will be the five-hundredth time, and for the first time i vouch for Ansa. CHIDEZIRI I stay up the whole night chasing J.cole songs around the internet. They aren't half bad.

But barely a few minutes had passed when her phone rang. Amara froze. Her eyes shifted slowly toward the device lying beside her laptop. The screen lit up with an unknown number. Her heartbeat quickened again. “Already?” she whispered. For a brief second, she considered ignoring it. But curiosity won. It always did. She picked up the phone, hesitating only slightly before answering. “Hello?” “Miss Mensah?” The voice on the other end was calm, deep, and commanding. The kind of voice that didn’t need to raise itself to be heard.

Sat down at the table with the easy familiarity of someone who had been coming to this kitchen for years rather than two days. Diana looked at her. Then at me. Then at Adrian. “Now,” she said, “we can open things.” The presents were modest in the way that presents between people who did not yet know each other’s tastes fully tended to be chosen with thought rather than certainty, which gave them a particular quality. Diana had given me a book a biography of a Nigerian activist I had mentioned once in passing during her New York visit, which she had remembered and tracked down in a London bookshop. She had given Amara a set of prints from a West African artist whose work was currently showing

This chapter is in third person p.o.v EIGHT MONTHS LATER Wunmi works as a secretary in one of the biggest clothing business line in Abuja after her graduation. She graduated with First Class Honours from the university of Lagos, during the convocation ceremony was when she was offered so many jobs and gifts. She chose the one at Abuja because it was a business she had an experience in.

It may be her eyes, the spark in her dove-like eyes. Whenever my eyes met hers, I felt a riot in my heart and my blood got pumped faster. I guess it was her complexion and nice shape. Her appearance reminded me of my celebrity crush, the renowned award-winning authoress Chimamanda Adichie and the much talked about African beauty. What can I say of her height, her glittering chocolate skin and the grace with which she walked and talked? I couldnt but develop a liking for her.