A gleeful and often hilarious carnival of cliché parades through these pages. Airline food is tasteless, parents are conservative, white women are patronising, school is where one learns 'the white man's wisdom', British people all have brown, misaligned teeth. About halfway through I realised I was reading a truly brilliant piece of satire, and it just got better and better (and more mercilessly irreverent) as it went along.
When Augustina is permitted to return to school for 'five more years of the white man's wisdom' she is delighted. The contrasts in this scene disrupt both the Liberal framing that assumes education needs to be given to African people by White saviours, and the underlying assumption, often replicated by more radical thinkers, that such people are naively receptive and cannot read whiteness or critically engage with its texts (including myths like the White saviour and colonial educational materials). Augustina enters the colonial relationship of further education more or less agentically, and although its effect on her fate is dubious, Nwaubani thereby highlights the complex mesh of intentions and influences at work in Nigerian lives.
Dismissing stereotypes is arguably what this book does best, often by playing them out to the furthest edges of absurdity, sometimes incorporated into a mere offhand remark “When I was a child, we had watched a documentary about an East African tribe who spoke with clicks and gurgles instead of real words” (Africa ain't a country, folks). Nwaubani is similarly brutal and ingenious in her criticism of Igbo patriarchy, having protagonist Kingsley describe his Aunty Dimma as 'a terrible wife' (although 'a lovely person' in every other way) because she is an independent woman, wearing trousers, buying herself a car and other aberrations. This relentless jesting with racism and sexism as its butts often reveals the histories of oppressive tropes. It's wonderful to see shoddy white behaviour and misperceptions from a Nigerian perspective. Nwaubani generously allows the white reader a belly-laugh at our own expense, sweetening the self-interrogation that will hopefully follow.
Several characters are pure archetypes. Uncle Boniface/Cash Daddy is involved in government corruption, uneducated but effectively supporting his academic relatives, with bleached women attending him, and a total lack of social grace – Nwaubani graphically portrays him continuing business negotiations while ahem using the bathroom facilities (and then proceeding to eat without washing his hands). Kingsley's father, Paulinus is colonised to the point of thinking everything English superior to everything Nigerian. When he has a stroke, his family are astonished that he starts speaking Igbo, a language they've never heard him use. Some of his attitudes have clearly rubbed off on Kingsley and Augustina, but at least Kingsley regards skin-bleaching with disapproval. For much of the novel, he seems a bit of a mugu. He completely loses his head over money, with no sense of proportion or the pride and integrity his mother values. However, Nwaubani allows him a degree of character development and self awareness, taking the book beyond farcical comedy to greater depths.
The theme of 419 scams is used ingeniously and critically. It's easy enough to point out that these tricks work on people's greed, and sometimes on the desire to 'help Africa' which Kingsley sees as the 'weakness' of caring, but structurally this caring is exploitative, an emotional extraction that functions on multiple levels in the globalised neocolonial economy. It's true that Cash Daddy et al have excessive faith in the social safety net of the UK and no doubt the US too. The welfare state in the UK has been undergoing a demolition since its inception, varying in speed and priorities but rarely in direction. There's plenty of real grinding poverty here, with increasing numbers of people dependent on food banks, including members of the working poor. The characters are amusingly ignorant about other countries too, for example they mention Iranians speaking 'Arabic' (Nwaubani nudges in a corrective hint) and 'beheading' convicts. However, Iranians are not good mugus. Since they aren't white, they are too smart to be scammed.
Going further, Nwaubani shows that men like Uncle Boniface/Cash Daddy cannot be seen simply as a blight on society: 'it depends which part of the elephant you can feel', Kingsley offers. The 419-ers take care of huge networks of relations, extending such kinship bonds to 'one old woman in your village'. They fund schools, fix roads, pay medical bills, and generally take the place of the absent neocolonial state, by pulling back a proportion of the resources stolen from Africa by coloniser states. It's not unreasonable to see them in the role of Robin Hood. When Kingsley buys Cash Daddy a small gift, and through many other instances, Nwaubani touchingly reveals the genuine love that people have for him. As well as delighting me constantly with zany turns of phrase and keeping me turning those pages to discover the next twist in the thrilling plot, this novel challenged and changed my perspectives.