Class transcends national boundaries. I'm a white guy from the Bay Area, and Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie is from Nigeria, but our shared experience of growing up in positions of relative privilege means I can relate to the main character of this story.
The passage below really struck a chord with me:
Chika wonders if that is all the woman thinks of the riots, if that is all she sees them as--evil. She wishes Nnedi were here. She imagines the cocoa brown of Nnedi's eyes lighting up, her lips moving quickly, explaining that riots do not happen in a vacuum, that religion and ethnicity are often politicized because the ruler is safe if the hungry ruled are killing one another. Then Chika feels a prick of guilt for wondering if this woman's mind is large enough to grasp any of that.
I felt shame when I read this, because I recognize that guilty feeling of wondering if certain people I meet are "sophisticated" enough for a certain level of complex thinking.
Also, the uneducated Muslim woman's explanation for the riot--evil--may be more accurate than the complex reasons Chika imagines her educated sister citing. Yes, powerful people manipulate the less powerful. They urge them to hate people different than them. But at the end of the day it is the individual who picks up a machete and hacks a stranger to death.
The Muslim woman, and I imagine most in her community, resisted being manipulated into hating their Christian Igbo neighbors. So it's not that "those people"--which is how Chika views these rural Muslims--are incapable of independent thought. So what separates the ones who don't hate from the ones who hate so much they're driven to unprovoked murder? If my loved one was hacked to death for no other reason than their religion, I think evil would be a compelling argument.
The following passage also hit home:
"We have only spent a week here with our aunty, we have never even been to Kano before," Chika says, and she realizes that what she feels is this: she and her sister should not be affected by the riot. Riots like this were what she read about in newspapers. Riots like this were what happened to other people.
A friend of mine, who like me is part of the privileged class, was seriously injured during a riot in a poor part of the city he lives in. I remember having the same moment of clarity: part of my outrage was disbelief that this thing that happened "over there" had entered into my personal life.
I also thought the author's decision to tell readers that Chika's sister was before Chika found out was very interesting. It created a time travel effect: when I found out Nnedi was dead, I was sad, but when the story went back to Chika's experience hiding in that shop, I was relieved, because Chika still thought her sister was alive. It was a better reality. Chika was scared, but not devastated.
Chimamanda really packs a lot into a small amount of space. Great stuff.