Akwaeke Emezi’s Love Letter to Eastern Nigeria

The Death of Vivek Oji

Illustration by Shalom Ojo / THE REPUBLIC. 

the ministry of arts / books dept.

Akwaeke Emezi’s Love Letter to Eastern Nigeria

In their sophomore novel, The Death of Vivek Oji, published five years ago, Akwaeke Emezi upends conventions of plot, genre and place to tell a riveting story of how three generations of an Igbo family reckon with the unpredictability of desire and the certainty of death.
The Death of Vivek Oji

Illustration by Shalom Ojo / THE REPUBLIC. 

the ministry of arts / books dept.

Akwaeke Emezi’s Love Letter to Eastern Nigeria

In their sophomore novel, The Death of Vivek Oji, published five years ago, Akwaeke Emezi upends conventions of plot, genre and place to tell a riveting story of how three generations of an Igbo family reckon with the unpredictability of desire and the certainty of death.

For casual readers of fiction from Nigeria, it is easy to assume that queerness is lived with the most vivacity in Nigeria’s big cities. The stories written about these cities are urgent, insistent and larger than life. The divine and the depraved seek absolution of their guilt in the heady cocktail of mood-altering substances and distance from their self-loathing in the amoral playgrounds of underground raves and pop-up orgies in Lagos, Abuja and Port Harcourt. But if you dig a little deeper, you will find a growing collection of stories by a canon of Igbo writers that explore a different kind of queerness. The queerness that unfolds in the rustic villages and industrial towns of eastern Nigeria: sexual awakenings that consecrate childhood bedrooms, love that blossoms in the dark bellies of boys’ quarters, truths whispered in the quiet halls of seminaries and convents, and reckonings that test the strength of family and challenge the conventions of tradition. Akwaeke Emezi earns their place within this canon of Igbo writers, not just for their work, but also for their truth.

A month before the release of their first novel, Freshwater, Emezi ‘came out’ as an ogbanje, a genderless spirit being known by many names across different Nigerian cosmologies. By stepping into their identity, they could no longer be contained by the binary, either in their expression of gender or their capacity to love. As one of Nigeria’s few openly queer writers, Emezi’s debut was awaited with bated breath. Freshwater was a complex book that externalized their struggle with embracing their spirit-first identity and making peace with the emotional carnage this kind of transformation wrought on those around them. But it was their second book, The Death of Vivek Oji, that demonstrated the transformational power of those ideas, through the experiences of Vivek, the book’s titular character. The successes of both books, built on the groundbreaking work of authors like Chinelo Okparanta, gave permission to other writers to do magnificent things with queer literature.

DEATH FOLLOWS YOU HOME

The Death of Vivek Oji is unlike anything else in Emezi’s prolific roster of multigenre novels—a book that breaks literary conventions in service of ideas that Emezi had wrestled with for most of their early career as a writer. The prose, while technically ambitious, reads with almost seamless ease. They announce the most important detail of the novel in its title: Vivek Oji dies. It seems like a sleight of hand, a plot contrivance, but each page emphasizes that Vivek’s death is literal, not a metaphor or a mission statement. He dies, senselessly—a mundane death. Yet somehow, the book sings with life, with vigour, with hope. So, what makes a book about death so compelling?

Every queer person contemplates death. It is the reality of being alienated for your expression of love. We are chided for this expression, denied privileges for not conforming to heteronormativity, dehumanized for existing outside the binary. We learn as children that love is conditional, and safety is not guaranteed, even in our own homes. Self-censorship becomes second nature; we forestall future hurt through pre-emptive alienation, we betray our bodies and mutilate the most vibrant of ourselves as a survival tactic. For Emezi, whose life, as an ogbanje, has been marked by a lifelong protest against the limitations of mortality, this reality is more tangible than most. Their struggle informs the themes of their early work, increasing in complexity and scope until it is fully realized in The Death of Vivek Oji. The resolution they hint at is paradoxical but true: death is not an abstract idea, but a tangible part of queer life.

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The first death in The Death of Vivek Oji is a metaphorical one, so subtle that it is barely noticed if you aren’t attuned to the vivid world that Emezi builds. Life presents Kavita, an Indian orphan, with an opportunity to remake herself in a new country, to leave behind the stigma of caste and begin her life anew as a cherished wife and daughter-in-law. Kavita fashions herself into the model Igbo wife under the tutelage of the Nigerwives, an oft-overlooked subculture populated by women who forsake their heritage, cultures and countries for love or by circumstance and assimilate into Nigeria. Kavita also inherits in-laws: Ekene, the patriarch of their compact extended family, and Mary, the senior wife.

Being the model Igbo wife is an identity Kavita doesn’t fully reckon with until her son Vivek is born on the day that his beloved grandmother, Ahunna, dies. It is implied that Ahunna believed in the old ways, and her death is a herald for Vivek’s birth. But Chika, Kavita’s husband, refuses to engage with what it would mean for his mother to reincarnate as his son. He is superstitious, and Vivek’s birth has already brought grief into his and Kavita’s lives. Kavita and Mary both end up with one child for different reasons. Mary cannot conceive despite her desire for more children, and Kavita abstains due to the trauma of losing Ahunna on the day of Vivek’s birth. With a year’s difference between them, Vivek and Osita, his cousin, are raised as siblings, orbiting between Ngwa and Owerri.

But Vivek is not like other children. Chika, his father, knows this because he compares him to Osita. Vivek is sensitive, in contrast to Osita’s stoicism; fragile, where Osita is hardy. Chika wants his only son to grow into a capable man, so he sends Vivek to military school to toughen him up despite Kavita’s pleas. This decision drives the first wedge between Vivek and his parents. Chika thinks Osita is a good influence on Vivek, but he doesn’t know that their kinship is not merely platonic. Osita desires Vivek even before he has the language to name these desires, and to him, they are in ways that are abominable, ways he cannot reconcile with. He suppresses his desires and tries, instead, to co-opt Vivek into a performance of heteronormative masculinity. When it backfires because of Vivek’s now debilitating fugues, Osita lashes out, cutting ties with his cousin and abandoning him in Ngwa to run back to the relative safety of Owerri. This forced estrangement from his ‘Irish twin’ fractures Vivek’s mind.

Vivek forgoes his plans of moving abroad to study. Eventually, even university life in Nigeria becomes untenable. He withdraws, returning home to his parents in Ngwa where he withers and they agonize over his situation. Kavita pours herself into finding solutions for Vivek while Chika distracts himself with infidelity. She turns to Mary, who subjects Vivek to a violent exorcism, further worsening the relationship between him and his family. When Ekene is brought in to intervene, he sides with his wife and is disowned by his brother.

When Osita eventually overcomes his shame and seeks out Vivek three years later, it is for somewhat selfish reasons. He is amazed to find that Vivek is undergoing a transfiguration, nurtured by children of the Nigerwives, girls who know what it feels like to be of two worlds but belong to neither. Somto and Olunne are the first to recognize that Vivek needs protection, not an intervention. They gather a posse around him: Juju and Elizabeth, who are exploring a lesbian relationship under their mothers’ noses, and Osita, who is reluctant at first but eventually becomes committed to Vivek. His chosen family hides him away in their bedrooms as he transforms outside of parental expectations and societal conventions. He becomes Nnemdi, who loves dresses, makeup and Osita, and wants to move through the world acknowledged as their fullest, most actualized self. Osita permits himself to love Nnemdi, but fears for their safety. It is that fear that leads to Vivek’s accidental death.

Kavita undergoes a second death when Vivek passes. She finds them, their naked body swaddled in an Akwete sheet on their veranda after a religious riot in Ngwa market. Overcome with grief and determined to fill the gaps between Vivek’s life and death, Kavita barrels through their small town, questing for answers. It is in her quest that she rescues Osita from the mouth of ruin in Owerri and, after months of false starts, meets Vivek truly for the first time, not as the son she wanted, but as the child she failed. She gets to honour her child as they wanted to be loved, to accept in death what was inconceivable in life.

Throughout the novel, Vivek speaks from beyond the veil. Death doesn’t wait at the end of Vivek’s life to greet them; it imbues their birth with meaning and follows them home. After a lifetime of dysphoria, Vivek’s death, where they present as their truest self, in the arms of their forbidden lover is salvation. Vivek tells us that death is no longer a thing to fear, but a companion to embrace. They welcome death at every turn, shedding the parts that no longer serve their true self. Death is an allegory, not one of finality but of rebirth, reincarnation and reinvention.

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HOME IS A PLACE WE LOVE BUT CANNOT RETURN TO

The Death of Vivek Oji is a love letter to eastern Nigeria, to the quaintness of small-town life, and the uniqueness of Emezi’s experience as the queer child of a Nigerwife in the 1990s. Vivek’s story is intimate and familiar; it is not autobiographical, but it is grounded in lived realities. Before they plunged headfirst into fiction, Emezi made their name with a series of gutting essays, some of which provide the scaffolding on which the world of The Death of Vivek Oji is built. ‘Sometimes The Fire Is Not A Fire’, published in 2015, revisits the savage beauty and wanton violence of their childhood hometown in Aba. ‘Who Will Claim You?’ attempts to name the placelessness they felt while growing up in Aba and how that placelessness follows them into adulthood. Aba is brought to life through their words, a place that nurtures and scars, a source of ethnic pride and a shameful reminder of bigotry.

The Death of Vivek Oji feels so richly immersive because it draws from a reality that Emezi has gone to great lengths to immortalize, with all its complexities and contradictions. Emezi understands that home is a metaphysical concept, an idea layered over a physical space, imbuing it with meaning. This is their only novel set in eastern Nigeria, around the time of their youth. The closest they’ve come to the veneration of this liminal space where they came of age, a space that persists in their imagination as a writer. They have spoken and written at length about the unique circumstances of their youth and how the slowness of growing up in a small town in the South East nurtured their creativity, even as it stifled their expression.

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It is intentional that Vivek is neither a gifted artist, a stellar student, nor a great beauty. They are just a person who is loved, not for their exceptionalism, but for their humanity. At the end of the book, Vivek’s grave bears their true name, and they are at home, at peace. Death is no longer an end, but a door through which they enter into another reality. This ending feels deliberate and fitting. It is a righting of wrongs, a reclamation of innocence, a blueprint for a future that is no longer possible for the author but essential for those who come after. A future where, even in conservative small towns in Igboland, queerness in all its flawed messiness will find expression, and, perhaps, allies and acceptance⎈

THE DEATH OF VIVEK OJI
AKWAEKE EMEZI
272 PP. FARAFINA BOOKS, AUGUST 2020
NIGERIA

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