I love the very good young woman of a Writer, Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie. I envy how much talent she has in her system and how she shares it so passionately with the World. The fact that one of the most Literature legend that ever lived, Chinua Achebe has tagged her as an ' Ancient Storyteller', not just a mere Storyteller but a blessed one. That is a huge deal and that's why I've decided to make a short piece, exactly the way she makes hers. Comments and Criticism are forever allowed.



Aloft in the skies, I could smell consternation for the future. It was only 7'o clock but it felt and smelled like the midnight hours. My belly was rumblings as the small dish of potato salad was making my whole system uncomfortable. I would have complained and made Niall agree to stay back home with me, as he would give me a well deserved foot massage until I felt much better.



But I would be the Ancestral witch of my remote village if I did so. I and Niall have been together for 2 years and I've been in the foreign land of America for 5 years. After many years of struggling to make those invisible ends meet, I finally met the Man of my dreams.



Niall was pale, white as bread made of snow and very sweet. He was a great cook and I wasn't with these international dishes. Back at home, Mama would query me for not cooking so often and eventually insult my 'future husband'. The only future husband I could recognise was Niall and he wasn't concerned I couldn't cook.



He loved me for my weight, colour, race and even accent.


He spoke lightly and faintly and I would simply laugh as if my insides were exploding.


Niall and his new shiny ride, the one he received as a Birthday 'toy' from his elder sister, Nancy.


Nancy was a social rights activist. She was married to an African-American lawyer and they were even expecting their first baby. I felt pleased when I heard Nancy had a 'Black' husband. That seemed to be the only thing we had in common, as I was dating her brother.



I was dressed that night in a too tight couture dress, Niall ordered it from a really fancy dress designing shop after our his weekend trip in Paris.


Niall was a tourist and he never toured or travelled with time. His kind of job was too foreign for a lady of Black skin like mine to understand. He would travel and get paid. He was really rich as he had fancy friends, whose girl friends talked in Queens English, but were actually Americans, just like Niall.



I was raised in the remote village of Kimdi until one time led to the other and my Mother sold my rights to my Aunty, who I spent my teenage years with.


She loved watching 'Americanah' movies while she ate cassava meals. She would talk so much about how 'Oyibo' people smelled when she had never even met one.



I remember coming back home from lessons and my friend from School, Zik lent me one of the latest American Classic movies. Aunty Mara was the first to watch and evaluate the whole movie to me.



She could properly pronounce the names of the characters of the movie. The only issue she had was when she pronounced 'G' as 'V', making her blurt out 'Veorge Clonney' instead of 'George Clooney'. I was almost impressed of how much she fancied the white man and his culture.



I wasn't too surprised when I found myself in the busy streets of America. I knew I was in America but sometimes, I couldn't even pronounce the exact place I was in America whenever I called Aunty Mara. She was proud of me but I wasn't.



"Foxy, we need to go now. Are you sure your alright?" Niall asked, his white bread accent making a 'you're' sound so much like a 'your'. I smiled and nodded, grasping his arm as we got into his new 'toy' as it zoomed off to his Parents' palatial mansion of a house.