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By Chimamanda Ezinwa
The annual Things Fall Apart (TFA) festival had its grand finale on 5th July, 2025. It was a really exciting and remarkable event that took place at the International Conference Centre (ICC), Independence Layout, Enugu. A lot of motivation and splendid events took place, like the melodious voice of a girl that sang ‘Onye bu nwanne’ a popular song and this same girl wowed us all by playing the oja (flute), an Igbo instrument that is mostly played by men. This was just the tip of the iceberg as later on at the event, we were graced with the presence of Chimamanda Ngozi-Adichie (Odeluwa), my role model, namesake and birthday mate.
The truth is, I wasn’t named after Chimamanda Adichie, the meaning of the name just suited my father’s situation at the time I was born, ‘My God would Never Fail me,’ according to my dad the name resonated with him so I was given the name.
Growing up, I was always likened to Chimamanda Adichie due to our names and our similar flair for writing but I fell in love with the art behind writing and the beauty of reading before I really knew who she was. It was in Grade 4 that I watched one of her TED talks and decided ‘when I grow up I am going to be just like her.’ I was one of the only girls in my class in primary school at that time whose role model wasn’t their mother or a cartoon character. I was known for always talking about Chimamanda Adichie in class, her books and her iconic nature. My biggest dream was to meet Chimamanda Adichie but I was called delusional. According to my classmates “where would you meet her? Even if you meet her, would she notice you?” I took all these in good faith knowing that one day I would prove them wrong.
The tides eventually turned in my favour now that I am in SS1. I was approached by a teacher in school who told me that Chimamanda Adiichie would be in Enugu for the TFA festival and I would join the members of my school’s Igbo Club as Ada Igbo to represent my school at the event. I was so glad and anticipated the day of the event. I went home, broke the news to my mom who excitedly selected a cultural outfit for the occasion. Two weeks had passed since I was told about this, but I hadn’t received further updates on the event. Worrying that the event had passed, I told my dad, who made enquiries into when and where Adiichie would be in Enugu. When my dad found out and told me the date, I told him not to worry that I would prefer going with my school as Ada Igbo that it would better my chances of being noticed by Chimamanda.
On 3rd July, 2025 in school, I heard that some students had gone for the TFA festival at Centre for Memories. When I heard this I came home drowned in despair and feeling unimportant enough to represent my school. My father came back home from work that day and I recounted all that had transpired in school.
My father checked the plan of events for the festival and told me not to worry. Chimamanda Adiichie would be present at the grand finale of the festival and he promised to take me. To prove his seriousness, he went the next day to make inquiries on how to register for the event. When he came back home, he told me to be ready by 12.00 (noon) on Saturday.
Honestly, I doubted my dad’s ability to deliver so I waited for him to come back from work on Saturday before I started preparing for the event. When he later asked me why I prepared so late, I told him that I doubted that he would actually keep to his promise. He clapped his hands on my shoulder, laughingly and called me a doubting Thomas.
When we arrived at the place, the first thing my dad did was to buy Chimamanda’s latest novel ‘Dream Count’. We thought the event was to begin by noon but it actually began at 4.00pm, so, to pass time, I opened the book and began to read.
As I read, I was so busy marvelling at Chimamanda’s creative finesse that I didn’t notice the event started 30 minutes later than 4.00pm.
I listened to beautiful poetry performances and music performances as well by eyes remained glued to the door, anxiously anticipating the arrival of the person I have dreamed of meeting my whole life.
She eventually arrived amidst loud cheers and screaming from the crowd. I screamed and clapped until I was very sure my throat and palms were sore but even then I didn’t stop. My legs were so shaky that I had to sit for one minute before I continued cheering.
She gave a very educative talk on preserving the Igbo culture. The level of her diction was superb, a standard that I hope to reach. After the talk she had a session with a man named James Eze on her book Dream Count. The audience was allowed to ask a few questions, but I didn’t raise my hand because I was sitting far behind. After the question and answer session I was hoping to get a chance to speak to her but a man told my dad that she was on her way out. Upon hearing this I became tired and frustrated. I had been sitting on a chair that left my leg muscles cramping in a place as cold as a cold room for meat. All this to speak to her and now someone was saying she was on her way out. I turned to my dad and told him I was ready to go. My father shrugged and followed me outside. As we were walking down the street, I didn’t even know when my eyes welled up with tears of helplessness and frustration. Then suddenly I remembered my sunglasses I had come out with not really to shield my eyes from the scorching afternoon sun but to complement my outfit. Turning to my dad, I told him that I had to go back to look for it, my dad said maybe God is sending us back there for a reason.
When we arrived at the place I began frantically searching for the glassed then my dad suddenly said, “look people are crowding around the stage I think Chimamanda is signing books.” I cast the stage a sideways glance as the missing glasses currently occupied my mind but in the moment I glanced at the stage I saw her sitting in the Odeluwa chair that was gifted to her signing books. My dad said that we should go there and try and get my own copy signed. We went to wait amongst the crowd, but someone suggested my dad climb on stage where Chimamanda was signing. My dad turned immediately and I with my renewed hope followed him like a lost sheep ambling after its newly found master. I’m not sure how it happened but suddenly I was the second in line for the book signing. When it was my turn, my hands were shaking so bad that I had to clasp them behind my back. As she opened the book to sign, she saw my name ‘Chimamanda Ezinwa’ on the front page. She turned to me and said Chimamanda? And I said yes that my name is Chimamanda and both of us were born on the 15th of September. She asked me my age and I said I was 14 years old and I also loved writing. At a certain point in the conversation, I had to grip my hand more firmly to make sure this wasn’t just some dream. Then she told the photographers to take a picture of both of us, her exact words were ‘this is special.’ As they were taking the pictures someone mentioned that we look alike. I had heard that before so I just smiled. As I was about to go she told me to keep writing that one day she will hear about me and my book.
I was so happy that I trekked home with my dad, despite the light drizzle and long distance, without complaining.
Hopefully, she’ll remember that 14-year- old girl that bears her name and is also born on the same day and has the same passion.
The point or lesson to be learnt from everything is don’t give up on your dream no matter how trivial. Even Chimamanda Ngozi-Adiichie said: “Every dream counts.”
•Ezinwa, an SS1 student, is the Ada Igbo of Roseville Secondary School, Enugu.
