Aufgabe 3.1 (NT 1) · Abitur NRW Englisch GK · Nachtermin 2022

Klausurteil A

Uzodinma Iweala

Speak No Evil

The novel centres on the narrator Niru and his family, who have Nigerian roots and are living in Washington, D. C..

The airplane rumbles to a full stop, shaking the luggage in the bins overhead and the seat

backs in front. I watch my father relax his grip on the armrest, cross himself and mutter a

silent prayer of thanks before he opens his eyes to cast sideways glances at the passengers

already standing in the aisle. See our people, my father says, but I press my forehead against

5 the window and look out at the carcasses of scrapped airplanes rusting in the tall grass by

the tarmac. [...]

My father becomes an entirely different man when we come to Nigeria. OJ came up with a

term for the condition during a trip we took the summer after his first year in medical school.

He said Daddy had a bad case of Nigeriatoma, an acute swelling of ego and pride that affects

10 diaspora Nigerian men, rendering them unable to accept the idea that a true home might exist

outside of their birth country. Symptoms may vary but are exceptionally pronounced upon

return to native soil and include hyperactivity, elevated mood, grandiose thinking and increased

aggression. The differential includes bipolar disorder and indeed those afflicted have much in

common with patients observed in the thrall of a manic episode. The duration of symptoms

15 may vary, but poor electricity, bad roads and exposure to extreme heat have proven effective

as treatment. My mother laughed at that, my father too, but only because OJ said it. [...]

I’ve always felt weird about coming to Nigeria. Everything is always so overwhelming and

aggressive from the moment we step out of the airport and into a country that my father loves

so deeply he had to run away from it. But I’ve never had a choice. No one has ever asked me.

20 Each summer my father’s momentum dragged us all home. His excitement sent my mother

to the big-box stores to buy clothes, shoes and handbags to distribute to the aunties and uncles

in the village. In the weeks leading up to each trip, he grew restless and wondered why OJ

and I didn’t share his level of enthusiasm. OJ was smart enough to keep his mouth shut and

nod when my father said, come on boys, show some excitement, we’re going home. I never

25 learned. But this is home, I said once as we sat at the kitchen table. No it’s not, my father

snapped, this place is not your home not now, not ever. He speared a piece of beef with his

fork and then let the utensil clatter against the plate. I stared across the table into my

father’s eyes searching for some recognition that here in Washington, we had our own

house full of our things, pictures of us as a family, books collected over the years, my toys,

30 random trinkets. Here my parents drove their own cars and always knew where they were

going. We had our church, and they had jobs they went to every single day. On some days

the word Nigeria never even leaves your mouth, I wanted to shout. My father’s face gave

nothing. He said, Nigeria is home.

But no matter how many times we came “home”, everything was so uncomfortable for me.

35 My father never seemed to notice that his shirt stuck to his back with sweat, or if he noticed

he didn’t care. I hated the fact that everyone walked around in a cloud of body odor so thick

it almost formed a visible aura around them. I hated the discomfort sitting in traffic, discomfort

sitting in the darkness when the power went out – it was always going out – the constant

vibration of the generators and their exhaust fumes. [...]

40 I wanted to ask how I should really feel about streets packed with potholes and gutters full

to the brim with trash and sludge. I wanted to know how to relax when the cars beside you

drove so close that you could see the red veins in the drivers’ eyes because everyone treated

the lane dividers as suggestions. It was almost too confusing to see the old and decrepit so

close to the new and shiny, the jalopies held together by string and prayer next to brand-new

45 Mercedes SUVs, the straw, palm leaf and plywood squatter settlements next to white walls

protecting the large sparkling glass windows of unreasonably sized mansions that would

have looked more comfortable in Hollywood. And everywhere there were people, some going

places, some unmoving and happy to let the world happen around them, but covering every

free space with a visible sense of entitlement no matter how tattered or well-kept their clothing.

50 I had the irrational fear that I would disappear into the mess of all these people and never be

seen or heard from again.

Annotations:

7 OJ – Niru's brother

13 bipolar disorder – a mental health condition causing extreme mood swings that include emotional highs (mania) and lows (depression)

44 jalopy – an old car in bad condition

3.1 In the course of her 2020 election campaign, Kamala Harris, who herself comes from an immigrant background and now serves as US Vice President, repeatedly asserted that "the American Dream belongs to all of us."

Comment on this statement, drawing on what you have covered in class about American myths and realities.

(Evaluation: comment) (14 Punkte)