Chimanda in her latest creation; "The thing around your neck"; a collection of short stories was able to narrate how an average nigerian girl fell in love with a white American. Touching.
Read more here. . . . . http://www.prospect-magazine.co.uk/article_details.php?id=5973

After your shift that day, he was waiting outside, leaning by a pole, asking you to go out with him because your name rhymed with hakuna matata and The Lion King was the only maudlin movie he'd ever liked. You didn't know what The Lion King was. You looked at him in the bright light and realised that his eyes were the colour of extra virgin olive oil, a greenish gold. Extra virgin olive oil was the only thing you loved, truly loved, in America.

He was a senior at the state university. He told you how old he was and you asked why he had not graduated yet. This was America, after all, it was not like back home where universities closed so often that people added three years to their normal course of study and lecturers went on strike after strike and were still not paid. He said he had taken time off, a couple of years after high school, to discover himself and travel, mostly to Africa and Asia. You asked him where he ended up finding himself and he laughed. You did not laugh. You did not know that people could simply choose not to go to school, that people could dictate to life. You were used to accepting what life gave, writing down what life dictated.

You said no the following three days, to going out with him, because you didn't think it was right, because you were uncomfortable with the way he looked into your eyes, the way you laughed so easily at what he said. And then the fourth night, you panicked when he was not standing at the door after your shift. You prayed for the first time in a long time and when he came up behind you and said, hey, you said yes you would go out with him even before he asked.

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oluwafemi113:

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rotflmao

Nice