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Aufgabe I

Aufgabenstellung

1.

Describe the protagonist’s life in the USA.

(30 %)

2.

Analyse how the protagonist’s emotional response to her life in the United States is portrayed.

Focus on narrative techniques and use of language.

(30 %)

3.

Choose one of the following tasks:

3.1

“Our histories cling to us. We are shaped by where we come from.” (Adichie, 2012)

Comment on the statement, also referring to the text at hand and materials studied in class, such as the novel Behold the Dreamers.

or

3.2

You are taking part in an international online workshop titled “Stories of Belonging.” Write a blog entry for the workshop website in which you assess the importance of literature in raising awareness about immigrant struggles.

(40 %)

Material

Text: Excerpt from Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, Dream Count (2025)

Kadiatou, a young woman from Guinea, a country in West Africa, has come to the United States with her daughter Binta to join her lover Amadou.

1
She spent her early months in a language haze, floating in and out of comprehension.
2
American English was spoken at a higher pitch than normal, and she wondered if she
3
would ever perfect that pitch, even if she managed to get the words right. She felt
4
unsteady on her feet, walking the crowded streets of Queens, as if the secret of truly
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belonging here was yet to be revealed to her. She was disoriented by the closeness
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of strangers, the graffiti scrawled on buildings, the long lurching buses. The subway
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scared her, at first, to be descending deep into the earth, but when they climbed up
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the stairs and emerged again into the light, a giddiness overcame her, as if she had
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reached an unexpected peak.
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“I want you and Binta to stay with my uncle, I don’t want to dishonour your family,”
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Amadou said.
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“Amadou, as far as I am concerned, I am your wife.”
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“Give me time, my love. To do things properly. You can be with me all day but I want
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you to sleep at my uncle’s house, until we’re properly married.”
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“And when will that be?” She wanted to ask but did not. In Conakry1 he said he would
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send kola nuts2 back home as soon as they arrived in America, so they could begin as
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a married couple, but now he was asking for time. She moved with Binta into his
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uncle’s house, in a basement room that was dark even in the afternoon. His uncle,
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Elhadji Ibrahima, was warm and wise, and her spirit felt at peace with him. […] [H]e
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was kind, endlessly kind, explaining America to her, […] showing her which TV shows
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to watch, to learn English.

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Amadou bought her a pair of denim shorts and asked her to wear them to a summer
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barbecue and she baulked; it felt like being naked. She couldn’t wear them out, she
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was horrified by women on the streets who bared so much skin in shorts and tiny
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tops. But she wore them for him, in his apartment, and he asked her to walk around
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so he could look at her and she did, shyly, laughing girlishly, and then flopping down
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on the sofa next to him. She was unused to looking at her own body and her exposed
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thighs felt unfamiliar, the skin much lighter, a thin crisscross of veins underneath.
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When his friends came by, she ran into his bedroom to hide, so they wouldn’t see her
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so uncovered, and Amadou laughed. “You have to loosen up a little, Kadi. Just a little,”
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he said. She didn’t wear the shorts to the summer barbecue in the park, but she ate
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some of the food in large pans covered in foil, because she knew he wanted her to,
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as her newly loosening-up self. Potato salad, pasta salad, macaroni cheese, all of
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them as tasteless as chalk. Binta was running around, shrieking happily, while
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Amadou chased after her. He had painted her face blue and red, and a blob of vanilla
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ice cream, fallen from her cone, had left a patch on the front of her dress. Kadiatou
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watched them with a tug in her chest of pure joy. She hoped to always remember
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this moment, the sky a boundless clear blue, their life beginning in Binta’s new world.

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But Amadou was different in America, not as light on his feet, nor in his spirit, as he
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had been back home. He wasn’t answering her questions fully, his eyes always darting
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to distractions. “I want to take Binta to Coney Island,”3 he said. “I want to take her to
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the Bronx Zoo; it’s the biggest in the world.” Anxiety spread over his face whenever
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his phone rang, and he would glance at the screen, and then turn back to her with a
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fake forced cheer. Sometimes he sat despondent on the edge of the bed, looking into
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the distance, and he would say a business deal fell through, something to do with a
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supplier from China. She sensed he wasn’t yet where he wanted to be, and his
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unfulfilled dreams, his failures, ground him. With her here now, he could no longer
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hide.
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“Amadou, tell me how things really are, please,” she said.
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“My love, it’s okay. No problem,” he said.
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“I want to get a job. We will do it together.”
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She decided she would no longer wait until she could speak English well before
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looking for work. She started at a braiding salon owned by a querulous Ivorian
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woman, and got a cash commission at the end of each day, a few folded dollar notes.
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The salon was alive with chatter, French spoken in Ivorian and Guinean and Malian
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accents, and from the women she learned useful nuggets of information, the best
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Greek yogurt for kossan,4 the African store where she could buy sour leaves and even,
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occasionally, fresh garden eggs. But the salon pay was poor, and Elhadji Ibrahima said
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she could do much better; after all she had her papers, while many of the other
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braiders didn’t. He found a home health aide job, caring for an elderly American man,
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but after she spoke to somebody on the phone, they turned her down, saying they
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couldn’t understand her English. He told her there was an opening for a good hotel
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job, as a housekeeper, but it was in Washington, DC. Kadiatou didn’t want to leave
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New York without Amadou. The weather was cooling, summer becoming fall.
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Amadou was often away. Sometimes he told her he would be gone for a few days; he
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was “hustling,” he said, and it was all to give her and Binta the best life. He took her
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to the bank to open an account, and then said he needed to keep some money aside,
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in her account, explaining something about taxes that she didn’t understand and
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didn’t need to understand. She wanted only to have their plans made molten,
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blending each in the other.

1Conakry – the capital of Guinea

2kola nuts – sending kola nuts can be a declaration of intent to marry (in some African countries)

3Coney Island –here: an amusement park in New York City

4kossan – a type of yoghurt for a special dish from Guinea

(998 words)

Quelle: Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie. Dream Count. London: 4th Estate, 2025. 190-193.

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