Chinelo Okparanta

Chinelo Okparanta is the author of the novels Under the Udala Trees and Harry Sylvester Bird, as well as the short story collection Happiness, Like Water, which was cited as an editors’ choice in the New York Times Book Review and was named on the list of The Guardian’s Best African Fiction of 2013. Okparanta is a winner of a Lambda Literary Award, the Jessie Redmon Fauset Book Award in Fiction, the 2016 Inaugural Betty Berzon Emerging Writer Award from the Publishing Triangle, and a 2014 O. Henry Prize. Her latest novel, This Impossible Life is forthcoming in November 2026.

Excerpt from Harry Sylvester Bird by Chinelo Okparanta

Kizimkazi, Tanzania

December 2016

We arrived at the resort in the afternoon when the sun was rising above the army of palm trees, lined and fanning in the breeze like windmills in the brightening orange and blue. Chevrolet and Wayne (I refuse to call them Mom and Dad) had remained silent for the forty-five-minute drive from the airport, except for brief responses to the white-capped, white-gowned driver (such as when the driver asked if they’d be needing the Wi-Fi access code, and they both nodded and said “yes” and “thank you” at once). In the spirit of solidarity, I nodded too.

But the signal had been weak and the connection elusive, and soon Wayne and Chevy leaned onto their separate windows (I in the middle) and zoned out as if they were sleeping with their eyes open. When the driver pulled up to the resort’s gate, the Maasai warrior—with his red-and-pink shuka, his cowhide sandals, and his wooden club—rose from his bamboo stool and inspected our car before waving us in. All in an instant, the resort emerged before us like a tropical paradise. Behold, before my eyes: conical thatched makuti roofs flanked by the green fronds of the palm trees, white hammocks dangling between the stems, gold-trimmed lounge chairs with rolling arms and claw-foots, wide-beamed umbrellas, and, in every direction, lush and low-lying tulip and hibiscus bushes.

Wayne and Chevy had fought on the plane, and before getting on the plane, and before that, and I had begun to think that perhaps for once they had grown satiated with their fighting for the day, but as we stepped out of the cab, a new fight materialized: the taxi service had been included in the booking, but who would pay for the tip, and how much to tip? I was only fourteen and without any income other than the occasional allowance, but knowing them, they would have had me pay if they thought I could have somehow managed it.

My stomach knotted with their bickering, palms sweaty, head full and woozy. As if the car sickness were not enough, now this fight.

Wayne said, “Honey, it’s Africa. One dollar is enough for a year’s living. You don’t need to give them more than that.”

“Fine, I’ll get it this time. But it was nearly an hour drive,” Chevy said. “I don’t see what giving five dollars will hurt.”

Continue reading an excerpt from Harry Sylvester Bird in Brittle Paper.

Links

The PEN Ten: An Interview with Chinelo Okparanta in PEN AMERICA 21 July 2022.

Queerness, Womanity and Hope: A Conversation with Chinelo Okparanta, Author of Under the Udala Trees in Electric Lit 22 September 2015

Finding Love And Self-Acceptance ‘Under the Udala Trees’ in NPR 19 September 2015.