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Chinelo Okparanta

Under the Udala Trees Hardcover – September 22, 2015

by Chinelo Okparanta (Author)

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Inspired by Nigeria's folktales and its war, Under the Udala Trees is a deeply searching, powerful debut about the dangers of living and loving openly.

Ijeoma comes of age as her nation does; born before independence, she is eleven when civil war breaks out in the young republic of Nigeria. Sent away to safety, she meets another displaced child and they, star-crossed, fall in love. They are from different ethnic communities. They are also both girls. When their love is discovered, Ijeoma learns that she will have to hide this part of herself. But there is a cost to living inside a lie.

As Edwidge Danticat has made personal the legacy of Haiti's political coming of age, Okparanta's Under the Udala Trees uses one woman's lifetime to examine the ways in which Nigerians continue to struggle toward selfhood. Even as their nation contends with and recovers from the effects of war and division, Nigerian lives are also wrecked and lost from taboo and prejudice. This story offers a glimmer of hope — a future where a woman might just be able to shape her life around truth and love.

Acclaimed by Vogue, the Financial Times, and many others, Chinelo Okparanta continues to distill "experience into something crystalline, stark but lustrous" (New York Times Book Review).

Under the Udala Trees marks the further rise of a star whose "tales will break your heart open" (New York Daily News).

Print length

336 pages
Language

English
Publisher

Houghton Mifflin Harcourt
Publication date

September 22, 2015
Dimensions

5.5 x 1.22 x 8.25 inches
ISBN-10

0544003446
ISBN-13

978-0544003446
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Editorial Reviews

Review

One of the Los Angeles Times 56 Fabulous Works of Fiction and Poetry for the HolidaysOne of The Root's 15 Powerful Works of Fiction Published by Black Authors in 2015BUST Magazine's Top 10 Books of 2015 One of Bustle's "13 Books From 2015 That Every Woman Should Read"One of Autostraddle's Top 10 Queer and Feminist Books of 2015One of the Millions Most Anticipated Reads for 2015One of Out Magazine's 10 Books We're Excited for This FallOne of Cosmopolitan Magazine's 24 Books to Read This FallYNaija's Ten Most Notable Books of 2015Pulse Nigeria's 10 Outstanding Nigerian Books for 2015Afridiaspora List's Best African Novels of 2015

From the Inside Flap

A unique and devastatingly hopeful story about the paradox of love: even in the midst of war, and in a world dominated by violence and prejudice, still, love transcends." Mia Couto

Ijeoma comes of age as her nation does; born before independence, she is eleven when civil war breaks out in the young republic of Nigeria. Sent away to safety, she meets another displaced child and they, star-crossed, fall in love. They are from different ethnic communities. They are also both girls.

When their love is discovered, Ijeoma learns that she will have to hide this part of herself. But there is a cost to living inside a lie.

Inspired by Nigerias folktales and its war, Under the Udala Trees showsthrough one womans lifetimehow the struggles and divisions of a nation are inscribed into the souls of its citizens. In prose that is elegant and spare, with insights heartbreaking and electrifying, it offers a story shot through with hope that points to a future when a woman might just be able to become fully herself, shaping her life around truth and love.

From the Back Cover

Praise for Under the Udala Trees

Chinelo Okparanta has written a remarkable and exquisite first novel about warsboth external and internalendurance, survival, and love. A coming-of-age story that demands not just to be read but felt, Under the Udala Trees wraps us in the spell of an exceptionally talented writer and storyteller. Edwidge Danticat

Under the Udala Trees is my favorite debut novel of the yeargorgeous, moving, and entirely hopeful. I wept through the final pages of this beautifully written, extremely necessary book. Jami Attenberg

An evocative, fiercely told story about a womans life, about family and love, and about becoming who you are meant to be. Chinelo Okparanta is an incendiary, essential voice. Justin Torres

Boldly unadorned and utterly heartbreakingOkparanta dares to tell a story that the world desperately needs to hear. Raw, emotionally intelligent, and unflinchingly honest, Under the Udala Trees is a triumph. Taiye Selasi

Okparanta tells a tale of conflict and compromise, of love and power, and of familythose we are born into and those we make for ourselves. A stunning book. Unforgettable. Maaza Mengiste

Chinelo Okparanta is a major new voice not only because of her mesmerizing storytelling, but for her bravery and originality. She is a truth teller and soothsayer. Under the Udala Trees is breathtaking, rich with history and heart. Tayari Jones

About the Author

One of Granta's six New Voices for 2012, CHINELO OKPARANTA was born and raised in Port Harcourt, Nigeria. A graduate of the Iowa Writers' Workshop, she currently teaches at Swarthmore College.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

1

Midway between Old Oba-Nnewi Road and New Oba-Nnewi Road, in that general area bound by the village church and the primary school, and where Mmiri John Road drops off only to begin again, stood our house in Ojoto. It was a yellow-painted two-story cement construction built along the dusty brown trails just south of River John, where Papa’s mother almost drowned when she was a girl, back when people still washed their clothes on the rocky edges of the river.
    Ours was a gated compound, guarded at the front by a thicket of rose and hibiscus bushes. Leading up to the bushes, a pair of parallel green hedges grew, dotted heavily in pink by tiny, star-like ixora flowers. Vendors lined the road adjacent to the hedges, as did trees thick with fruit: orange, guava, cashew, and mango trees. In the recesses of the roadsides, where the bushes rose high like a forest, even more trees stood: tall irokos, whistling pines, and a scattering of oil and coconut palms. We had to turn our eyes up toward the sky to see the tops of these trees. So high were the bushes and so tall were the trees.
    In the harmattan, the Sahara winds arrived and stirred up the dust, and clouded the air, and rendered the trees and bushes wobbly like a mirage, and made the sun a blurry ball in the sky.
    In the rainy season, the rains wheedled the wildness out of the dust, and everything took back its clarity and its shape.
    This was the normal cycle of things: the rainy season followed by the dry season, and the harmattan folding itself within the dry. All the while, goats bleated. Dogs barked. Hens and roosters scuttled up and down the roads, staying close to the compounds to which they belonged. Striped swordtails and monarchs, grass yellows and redtops ?— ?all the butterflies ?— ?flitted leisurely from one flower to the next.
    As for us, we moved about in that unhurried way of the butterflies, as if the breeze was sweet, as if the sun on our skin was a caress. As if slow paces allowed for the savoring of both. This was the way things were before the war: our lives, tamely moving forward.
    But in 1967, the war barged in and installed itself all over the place. By 1968, the whole of Ojoto had begun pulsing with the ruckus of armored cars and shelling machines, bomber planes and their loud engines sending shock waves through our ears.
    By 1968, our men had begun slinging guns across their shoulders and carrying axes and machetes, blades glistening in the sun; and out on the streets, every hour or two in the afternoons and evenings, their chanting could be heard, loud voices pouring out like libations from their mouths: “Biafra, win the war!”
    It was that same year, 1968 ?— ?the second year of the war ?— ?that Mama sent me off.
    By this time, talk of all the festivities that would take place when Biafra defeated Nigeria had already begun to dwindle, supplanted, rather, by a collective fretting over what would become of us when Nigeria prevailed: Would we be stripped of our homes, and of our lands? Would we be forced into menial servitude? Would we be reduced to living on rationed food? How long into the future would we have to bear the burden of our loss? Would we recover?
    All these questions, because by 1968, Nigeria was already winning, and everything had already changed.
    But there were to be more changes.
    There is no way to tell the story of what happened with Amina without first telling the story of Mama’s sending me off. Likewise, there is no way to tell the story of Mama’s sending me off without also telling of Papa’s refusal to go to the bunker. Without his refusal, the sending away might never have occurred, and if the sending away had not occurred, then I might never have met Amina.
    If I had not met Amina, who knows, there might be no story at all to tell.

So, the story begins even before the story, on June 23, 1968. Ubosi chi ji ehihe jie: the day night fell in the afternoon, as the saying goes. Or as Mama sometimes puts it, the day that night overtook day: the day that Papa took his leave from us.
    It was a Sunday, but we had not gone to church that morning on account of the coming raid. The night before, the radios had announced that enemy planes would once more be on the offensive, for the next couple of days at least. It was best for anyone with any sort of common sense to stay home, Papa said. Mama agreed.
    Not far from me in the parlor, Papa sat at his desk, hunched over, his elbows on his thighs, his head resting on his fisted hands. The scent of Mama’s fried akara, all the way from the kitchen, was bursting into the parlor air.
    Papa sat with his forehead furrowed and his nose pinched, as if the sweet and spicy scent of the akara had somehow become a foul odor in the air. Next to him, his radio-gramophone. In front of him, a pile of newspapers.
    Early that morning, he had listened to the radio with its volume turned up high, as if he were hard of hearing. He had listened intently as all the voices spilled out from Radio Biafra. Even when Mama had come and asked him to turn it down, that the thing was disturbing her peace, that not everybody wanted to be reminded at every moment of the day that the country was falling apart, still he had listened to it as loudly as it would sound.
    But now the radio sat with its volume so low that all that could be heard from it was a thin static sound, a little like the scratching of skin.

Until the war came, Papa looked only lovingly at the radio-gramophone. He cherished it the way things that matter to us are cherished: Bibles and old photos, water and air. It was, after all, the same radio-gramophone passed down to him from his father, who had died the year I was born. All the grandparents had then followed Papa’s father’s lead ?— ?the next year, Papa’s mother passed; and the year after, and the one after that, Mama lost both her parents. Papa and Mama were only children, no siblings, which they liked to say was one of the reasons they cherished each other: that they were, aside from me, the only family they had left.
    But gone were the days of his looking lovingly at the radio-gramophone. That particular afternoon, he sat glaring at the bulky box of a thing.
    He turned to the stack of newspapers that sat above his drawing paper: about a month’s worth of the Daily Times, their pages wrinkled at the corners and the sides. He picked one up and began flipping through the pages, still with that worried look on his face.
    I went up to him at his desk, stood so close to him that I could not help but take in the smell of his Morgan’s hair pomade, the one in the yellow and red tin-capped container, which always reminded me of medicine. If only the war were some sort of illness, if only all that was needed was a little medicine.
    He replaced the newspaper he was reading on the pile. On that topmost front page were the words SAVE US. Underneath the words, a photograph of a child with an inflated belly held up by limbs as thin as rails: a kwashiorkor child, a girl who looked as if she could have been my age. She was just another Igbo girl, but she could easily have been me.
    Papa was wearing one of his old, loose-fitting sets of buba and sokoto, the color a dull green, faded from a lifetime of washes. He looked up and smiled slightly at me, a smile that was a little like a lie, lacking any emotion, but he smiled it still.
    “Kedu?” he asked.
    He drew me close, and I leaned into him, but I remained silent, unsure of how to respond. How was I?
    I could have given him the usual response to that question, just answered that I was fine, but how could anyone have been fine during those days? Only a person who was simultaneously blind and deaf and dumb, and generally senseless and unfeeling, could possibly have been fine given the situation with the war and the always-looming raids.
    Or if the person was already dead.

Product details

Publisher ‏ : ‎ Houghton Mifflin Harcourt (September 22, 2015)
Language ‏ : ‎ English
Hardcover ‏ : ‎ 336 pages
ISBN-10 ‏ : ‎ 0544003446
ISBN-13 ‏ : ‎ 978-0544003446
Item Weight ‏ : ‎ 1 pounds
Dimensions ‏ : ‎ 5.5 x 1.22 x 8.25 inches

Best Sellers Rank: #1,616,434 in Books (See Top 100 in Books)
- #1,165 in LGBTQ+ Literary Fiction (Books)
- #4,750 in Biographical Fiction (Books)
- #71,647 in Literary Fiction (Books)

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Chinelo Okparanta

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Chinelo Okparanta was born in Port Harcourt, Nigeria. A University of Iowa Provost's Postgraduate Visiting Writer in Fiction as well as a Colgate University Olive B. O'Connor Fellow in Fiction, Okparanta received her BS from Pennsylvania State University, her MA from Rutgers University, and her MFA from the Iowa Writers' Workshop. She was one of Granta's six New Voices for 2012 and is a Lambda Award winner for Lesbian Fiction, an O. Henry Short Story Prize winner, a finalist for the Rolex Mentors and Proteges Arts Initiative, a finalist for the Etisalat Prize for Literature, and a finalist for the Caine Prize, among others. Her stories have appeared in the New Yorker, Granta, Tin House, The Kenyon Review, and elsewhere.

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EliseHall92

Simplicity and Tenacity

Reviewed in the United States 🇺🇸 on November 30, 2015

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Under the Udala Trees tracks the life and loves of Ijeoma, a Nigerian girl who discovers at a young age that she loves women and not men. Beginning with her experience of the war between Biafra and the Nigerian government, we follow Ijeoma when she is sent to another village to be a housegirl, where she meets her first love. As she journeys through a life of heartbreak and secrecy, whether at an all-girls boarding school or at an underground lesbian dance-club, we are exposed to the rawness of her mother’s attempt to cleanse her soul, the joy in her forbidden loves, and her fear and anguish when the unbending laws of the local culture tarnish her desires.
“Happiness was what she called it. But I knew that happiness was a word like madness, like sickness, like confusion, like loss, like death. Even like beautiful or pure or angelic or God. Happiness was a word that represented some deeper, unexplainable, heavy idea, the kind of idea that goes back and forth between two different worlds.”
Okparanta is one of those rare writers who can truly harness the power of simplicity to let the potency of the narrative shine through. Modest, unhurried language and a plot that meanders without dramatic twists and turns leave readers of Under the Udala Trees in a rare and fortunate place—one in which there is nothing left to consider but the bare truths of having a self that is forbidden.
The simplicity of the prose makes it impossible to hide from the power and strength of the narrative, and although the plot is not necessarily unexpected, I found myself carried away in the treacherous and secretive lives of the Nigerian lesbian community. The book features wonderfully relatable female leads and reveals the power that a community can hold over those within it. We are shown how shame is engendered as thoroughly as a sense of belonging, and how this tension creates immense uncertainty for women (and men) who don’t quite fit the mold.
Despite the masterful austere essence of the prose, sometimes I found myself wishing that Okparanta would go deeper. The simplicity made sense when the story was being told from the point of view of a child, but as Ijeoma aged the narrative style did not. For such an incredibly emotional and complex issue, it was disappointing to sense that there was so much being held back from the story. While I appreciate authors who allow the reader to complicate and intuit the deeper meaning of things, I’m not confident that this was Okparanta’s intent, and therefore find myself wishing that she had tackled these issues with a bit more grit.
Given the fact that in 2014 all homosexual relationships became illegal in Nigeria, subject to at least 14 years in prison, I think this is an important book to read, and one that probably needed to be told years or decades ago. It’s easy to read but not easy to stomach—elements which I think make it a good narrative to make a wide range of people confront an issue they may know nothing about.

Elise Hadden, Under the Heather Books (www.undertheheatherbooks.com)

14 people found this helpful

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Shannon Vance

Connective

Reviewed in the United States 🇺🇸 on June 8, 2022

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Beautiful story of a young girl who struggles with her identity in a country and culture that rejects her authentic self. Beautiful language and imagery. I waited too long to pick this up and open the cover and then could not put it down. I loved this novel.

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The Pirate Captain

A worthy successor to Richard Wright's Black Boy

Reviewed in the United States 🇺🇸 on December 9, 2015

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Chinelo Okparanta’s Under the Udala Trees tells the story of Ijeoma with the girl’s voice and perspective. We meet her at age 11 in the midst of Nigeria’s civil war. Her father soon dead, Ijeoma tells us about war from a civilian point of view, a female point of view, the point of view of a girl who sees headless bodies along the road as common as flowers or mud. Privation and danger are everywhere, but when her mother sends her away to “safety,” she falls in love with another girl, and this forbidden love puts her in as much danger as the war.
As the novel develops, we are swept into a world of myth and legend, a world of religion, where love is narrowly defined and verses used to punish and thwart, not inspire or reward, a world of rapid change, both personal and nation-wide. Ijeoma must learn to protect her love, hide it, and understand it without guidance from elders or scripture. Not only is this a war story and a love story, it is a coming of age story, the strands of which are woven tightly and the colors blended to form complex images of the deepest human complexity.
From student to store clerk to running wild to marriage and finally to setting off on her own dangerous but loving path, Ijeoma becomes a brave woman, as free as she can be, and a loving soul. The novel does all this with a realistic style and details tinged with the magic of folk tales.
The novel reminds me of Richard Wright’s masterful autobiography, Black Boy, insightful in society’s violent injustices, brave in its truth and love of life, and daring in its revelations.

9 people found this helpful

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Tony Wainaina

Courageous crusade

Reviewed in the United States 🇺🇸 on February 25, 2019

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"God is nothing but an artist, and his world his canvas. And I reason that if the Old and New Testaments are any indication, then change is a major part of His vision for the world. The Bible itself is an endorsement of change. Even biblical covenants change: In the New Testament, no longer the need for animal sacrifices. Change. No longer the covenant of law, but rather the covenant of grace. Change. A focus on all mankind rather than a focus on the Jews. Change. So many other changes of a person were the list-making type."

Chinelo has courageously crafted an African story seldom told because taboo has demonized the very thought of this subject matter. I probably wouldn’t have read this book if I had known of the subject matter. But I’m glad it did. Not because it makes be any less conservative than I am on LGBTQ matters, but it does bring to the fore the stalemate between governments that feel compelled to secure their heavily conservative religious voter bases, notwithstanding the first paragraph of this review; and a next voter generation whose conformation to LGBTQness is night and day compared to generations prior.

5 people found this helpful

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she123.

Exactly as Rated

Reviewed in the United States 🇺🇸 on May 10, 2022

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This book was called like new, and it really did seem straight off a bookstore shelf and arrived promptly.

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Hannah

Beautiful Representation

Reviewed in the United States 🇺🇸 on March 13, 2022

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This story gives a voice to many people, especially Nigerians, who have experienced oppression because of their sexuality, or hidden their sexuality. The writing was wonderfully emotional and highlighted the intricacies in which we communicate with one another physically and verbally.

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BookWorm

Powerful and painful

Reviewed in the United Kingdom 🇬🇧 on October 1, 2019

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This novel starts in the Biafran civil war, when the narrator's father is killed in an air raid and her mother is forced to send her away to live with family friends. There she develops a friendship with another young girl orphaned by the war, which over time develops into something more. The novel goes on to explore her life as a lesbian woman in a country where homosexuals face the risk of being murdered by mob violence.

Ijeoma is a likeable narrator and her story is compelling without being melodramatic. It is disturbing to see how characters who are otherwise decent and well-meaning become utterly transformed over the issue of sexuality into cruel and unreasonable behaviour. Rather than painting those opposing Ijeoma as simple monsters, Okparanta's depiction of them as ordinary people is in many ways more upsetting and hard to comprehend. She also gives plenty of page time to the Biblical passages used by those opposing homosexuality on religious grounds, which was very interesting to read and gave me more understanding of the reasoning of those with these beliefs even though I don't agree with them.

Overall it is a powerfully written novel about an important and current topic.

Gemma Nokes

Not bad

Reviewed in the United Kingdom 🇬🇧 on September 4, 2020

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This is a good book, looking at the struggles of a girl coming into adulthood and trying to understand her sexuality in Nigeria. I enjoyed many aspects of this book, particularly the relationship between the main protagonist and her mother. However I felt that it was just to short for the amount of content. I would have liked the other relationships in the book to have been looked at in a lot more detail. Because they were glossed over to a degree, I found it hard to connect to a lot of the characters, or find the relationships believable.

One person found this helpful

Amazon Customer

Beautiful and extremely relevant

Reviewed in the United Kingdom 🇬🇧 on August 5, 2019

Verified Purchase

This book details the story of Ijeoma, growing up during the Nigerian civil war, her relationships, her marriage and coming to terms with her sexuality.

I really liked this book. The author paints a picture of what it may have been like living in that time and how the character cannot be true to herself.

Great piece of writing and extremely relevant in today’s Nigeria with some of the harshest laws against LGBTQ in place.

One person found this helpful

Amazon Customer

Captivatingly emotional

Reviewed in the United Kingdom 🇬🇧 on July 27, 2021

Verified Purchase

I was unsure about this book because it’s not what I normally read (I’m into crime). I was recommended this by a friend and I am so glad I gave it a go. Couldn’t put it down. It’s so well written and the story is captivating. Honestly you will not be disappointed with it.

Laura Grant

Good book and well written

Reviewed in the United Kingdom 🇬🇧 on July 19, 2020

Verified Purchase

This is a good story and very well written but there was something missing , for me. maybe that is how it is supposed to feel but it just didn't vibe with me.

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