The hospital room was silent, save for the intermittent beeping coming from the monitor. I didn’t mind the noise so much; in fact, the familiarity of hearing it repeatedly made it comforting.  It was the smell I couldn’t stand; the strong stench of bleach mixed with stale piss and vomit made me want to gag. ...

If one prods the origins of most great works of art, one will find they were created to exorcise or archive a memory. Okigbo does the latter for Kepkanly, a school teacher. Adichie, it can be argued, wrote Half of a Yellow Sun (at least in part) to re-exorcise the collective tribal memory of the ...