Thirteen odd years ago, in my final leg of senior secondary, my school got a new literature teacher– Mr Eden. Mr Eden was graceful. Even while wielding a whip, he talked and walked like little blue birds helped him get dressed in the morning.
In his second week in school, we had a conversation about writing influences and at the time, obsessed with detective and mystery novels, I excitedly told him how much I was learning about pain, ambition and betrayal and how these books helped transport me to an alternate reality. He looked at me with a knowing smile and said “Yes. But, can you truly relate with those stories?” and then proceeded to lend me three of his favorite books, one of which was Chimamanda Adichie’s “Purple Hibiscus.”
