Hey Mama,

It’s been over a month since I last wrote to you. I’ve been working on this letter since Halloween, yet I’m still not sure it’s quite right. But I miss you, so here we are. Since you’ve been gone, I often imagine what your days are like now. Are you having lively debates with Grandma? How was your reunion with KP? What’s Grandpa like? Are there books where you are, and do you still get lost in stories, shutting the world out as you read? Or are you here with us, walking beside me, Dad, and Moh? In your absence, I’ve made it my mission to keep your essence alive through the habits you instilled in me.

Writing has become my refuge again—a sanctuary where I can transcend the mundane. I’ve rekindled my passion for reading, devouring one book after another. Though I don’t visit the library every Friday like we used to, I promise to start again in the new year. I still relish the feel of physical books, ordering new ones weekly, and my Audible library now boasts over 400 titles. Audiobooks accompany me throughout my day—whether driving, working, or cooking. Words have become my constant companions, echoing the love for literature you instilled in me. In awkward social situations, I discreetly slip an ear pod in one ear and listen to a book, unnoticed by Adjei. You’re probably giving me the side-eye right now.

The Impact of Wahala

One book that has lingered in my mind is Nikki May’s Wahala. I’ve revisited it several times, most recently on Audible. This novel intricately explores the lives of three mixed-race women of Nigerian and English descent—Simi, Boo, and Ronke—living in London. Let me start by saying that this novel is nothing like “Sex and the City, a comparison that I’ve seen A LOT. Yes, there are four “friends,” living in a metropolitan city, but the similarities end there. Carrie, Samantha, Miranda, and Charlotte actually liked each other. They met at university and bonded over their shared experiences of being half-Nigerian and mixed-race. Despite this connection, they have little else in common, setting the stage for the unfolding complexity and tension. The title, Wahala, translates to “trouble” in Yoruba, perfectly encapsulating the conflicts and turmoil that permeate the narrative. This story serves as a series of conflicts and betrayals, reflecting the tumultuous paths many navigate while exploring their identities and friendships.

Ronke: A Journey of Struggle and Vulnerability

At the heart of this story is Ronke, who embodies vulnerability and insecurity. Ronke is a self-employed dentist—like you—who loves her life, much to the dismay of her two best friends. The story begins as she heads to the London-based Naija hotspot Bukka for dinner with Simi, only to discover they aren’t alone. Simi’s childhood friend Isobel has joined them, a figure poised to disrupt their lives. Isobel is obscenely rich and comes from a powerful and notorious family whose wealth is acquired by dubious means. Isobel’s arrival shakes up the dynamics among the trio, flaunting her wealth and privilege and positioning herself as the center of attention.

I see echoes of my younger self in Ronke. I grew out of those behaviors early on, thanks to your guidance. Like Ronke, I often tried to keep the peace, letting things go when I should have spoken up. I remember a falling out with a so-called friend who turned others against me, leaving me isolated. I came home crying to you, and you asked if I’d ever stopped speaking to a friend because another friend told me not to. When I said no, you asked why I’d want to be friends with people like that. You said, “Show me your friends, and I will tell you who you are.” I carry that sentiment with me to this day.

You were a fighter, and you made sure I became one too. You taught me not to be afraid to walk alone and to find myself before finding friends, especially when the alternative was being around people who didn’t appreciate me. Your words were a lifeline, guiding me toward a stronger sense of self. So, I often find it hard to forgive Ronke’s weaknesses at moments when she should have stood up for herself. But then again, it’s clear Ronke didn’t have a mother like mine.

After her father died in Nigeria, Ronke’s mother relocated her and her older brother to England, where they lived with racist grandparents who forbade them from calling them grandma and grandpa. In an act of cultural erasure, Ronke’s mother wiped away all remnants of their life in Nigeria and her father. Ronke’s lifeline was her father’s twin sister, Aunty Kay, who stepped into the role of a surrogate mother, ensuring Ronke’s connection to her heritage stayed intact and boosting Ronke’s morale as she navigated a world that often felt unwelcoming.

Despite this support, Ronke struggles with her identity. Isobel does horrible things to her, including obsessively interfering in her relationship with her boyfriend, Kayode, complicating their relationship. This obsession becomes a source of tension, as Isobel’s manipulative nature threatens to undermine Ronke’s happiness in every aspect of her life. Ronke is the only one who truly sees Isobel for what she is—a cunning puppeteer who thrives on chaos. However, Simi and Boo twist this perception, making it seem as if Ronke is jealous of Isobel’s looks and the attention she receives. As a result, they body-shame Ronke, making hurtful comparisons behind her back, which Ronke overhears, exacerbating her feelings of inadequacy. This gaslighting leaves Ronke feeling isolated and misunderstood, intensifying her struggles to assert her own identity.

Another area of similarity with Ronke that I acknowledge is dealing with the loss of a parent. Though she lost her father as a preteen, and I lost you recently, I understand the hurt. Reading about the loss’s effect on her life shows that the pain never goes away; we merely learn to live with it.

Isobel invites them to an Owambe, a Yoruba term that translates to “it is there,” commonly used to refer to grand celebrations in Nigeria. Ronke jumps at the opportunity to participate in this grand occasion. I literally threw the book across the room at how excited Ronke was about this party. Isobel has ruined her life, and it all gets thrown out of the window for the chance to wear Asoebi and be a part of a lux event. Kayode expresses his discontent about the party, warning Ronke against attending, but she disregards his concerns. This decision leads to devastating consequences. When Ronke finally realizes the truth of his warnings after hearing her “friends” gossiping about her, she leaves the party in tears. I can hear your Liberian parable: “A child that cannot hear, will feel.”

Simi: The Weight of Expectations

Simi is a married, successful fashion marketer who likes to make it seem like she has it all. But her journey adds another layer to the story. She is vain and struggles with insecurity, lashing out at times and saying mean things, usually to Ronke. After fleeing Nigeria as a child with her mother and brother following her father’s company being sabotaged by Isobel’s father, Simi values material possessions above all else. Unlike Ronke, Simi is married, but her husband is in New York on a long-term work assignment while she remains in London, pretending to share his desire to start a family.

However, Simi’s reality is far more complicated. Although her husband longs for children, she is determined not to get pregnant (a secret she stupidly shares with Isobel) and goes to extreme lengths to hide this from him. This duplicity creates a chasm in her marriage that grows wider with every secret she keeps.

Simi only embraces her Nigerian identity when it suits her. She and Boo look down on Ronke for dating African men, urging her to pursue white partners because of “stability” like they did. There are many moments where Simi savagely attacks Ronke because “she seems too happy with her little life,” she states at one point. Meanwhile, Simi is unhappy with hers.

Boo: Internalized Racism and Discontent

Boo, on the other hand, is a miserable person who needs a therapist. She grapples with internalized racism, angry at every black man because her Nigerian father left her mother while she was pregnant, only for her to learn that he had another family in Nigeria. Her disdain for her African heritage manifests in her hostility toward Ronke. She’s married to Didier, a Frenchman who embraces his culture, ensuring their daughter Sophia does as well. Boo acts like an outsider instead of learning French alongside Sophia. She resents Didier for his connection to his roots, while she feels alienated from her own.

Boo’s negativity permeates every scene she enters, dragging down the mood with her bitterness and dissatisfaction. She is not a nice person and frequently brings negativity into their lives. When Boo’s supervisor begins to make advances at her, Isobel encourages her to take it further, referring to Didier as “Tubby hubby,” a term that they both constantly utilize behind his back. She justifies her actions as a form of empowerment, dancing around the edges of infidelity, entangled in a web of her own making.

Boo confides in Isobel about her situation, sharing her excitement over the attention she receives, creating a toxic cycle of deception and betrayal. Boo and Simi each confide in Isobel individually, unaware of how she plays a game of telephone with their secrets. Isobel uses the power of these confessions, positioning herself as the queen bee among the trio and manipulating their relationships for her own gain.

Isobel: The Catalyst of Chaos

Isobel is wahala in the flesh—a tornado of murderous privilege. Isobel’s presence is a toxic cocktail of ostentation and manipulation. We all know an Isobel—a person who thrives on chaos, whose seemingly effortless charm masks a penchant for creating discord.

Isobel’s arrival disrupts the existing dynamics among the trio, flaunting her wealth and privilege, positioning herself as the center of attention. Her manipulative actions expose the fragility of friendships built on superficial connections, often leaving others feeling inadequate and marginalized. Ronke understands Isobel’s true nature, yet her friends twist this perception, making it seem as if Ronke is merely jealous of Isobel’s charm. This dynamic complicates Ronke’s ability to assert her identity and worth, leaving her feeling increasingly isolated.

Racial Bias

There is a running theme in Wahala of Nigerian/black men being portrayed as “bad” or untrustworthy. Boo never knew her father; her mother was pregnant by a Nigerian man, and when she tried to find him through the Nigerian embassy, she discovered he was married and had a family back home. Simi also has daddy issues; her father was once a prominent attorney who lost his business due to the machinations of Isobel’s “evil” father. After this, Simi’s mother left him and moved to England. Simi fell from her father’s grace after dropping out of medical school to work in fashion.

Ronke’s father was killed in Nigeria when she was a child, so she puts his memory on a pedestal, looking for him in the men she dates and choosing to become a dentist like him. Isobel’s corrupt father is extremely rich, powerful, and rotten. As the story progresses, we learn just how dangerous he is and find out that the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.

Anti-Blackness and Proximity to Whiteness

In Wahala, the theme of anti-Blackness is intricately woven into the narrative. The characters’ proximity to whiteness reveals the complexities of identity and belonging. Each character’s interaction with race and privilege highlights how societal expectations are pervasive, often dictating their self-worth and influencing their relationships.

Ronke, despite her love for her Nigerian heritage, still carries some biases and doesn’t recognize her own privilege. There was a time when Kayode defended Ronke against her stalker, who showed up at her home. Instead of defending Kayode when the police arrived and wrongfully tried to arrest him, Ronke broke out in a fit of hysterical laughter out of shock. It was her neighbor who came out to defend Kayode. When Kayode was angry about his mistreatment by the police and Ronke’s reaction, she played the victim and couldn’t understand why he couldn’t simply hold her to make it all better. This felt like a missed opportunity for empowerment. She casually sweeps the racist treatment of Kayode by the police and her friends under the rug. Simi and Boo’s disdain for Ronke’s affection for African men illustrates their internalized biases, suggesting that proximity to whiteness equates to higher social status and value.

Simi’s life is a testament to the lengths individuals will go to attain this proximity. After fleeing Nigeria, her need for acceptance in a predominantly white society drives her to prioritize materialism and status. She seeks validation through her possessions and her relationships, often at a cost to her authentic self.

Boo’s journey also highlights the destructive nature of internalized racism and the desire to erase her blackness and ethnicity. She seems to have married Didier as a departure from her own “blackness,” yet she feels a sense of alienation, grappling with her own internalized biases against her heritage.

The characters’ experiences in Wahala poignantly illustrate the ways anti-Blackness and the desire for proximity to whiteness shape their lives. These themes echo the broader societal context, reminding readers of the ongoing struggle against systemic racism and the impact it has on personal relationships. The narrative serves as a powerful commentary on the intersections of race, identity, and belonging, urging us to think deeply about our own lives and consider the complexities of navigating a world that often prioritizes whiteness over authenticity.

Personal Reflections: Connecting Themes to My Life

As I reflect on these characters and their struggles, I’m captivated by their stories, yet my own journey feels distinct. The themes of identity, friendship, and the complexities of race resonate deeply, but I cannot claim their lessons as my own. I relate to Ronke’s struggle against societal pressures, but my path has been different.

Like Ronke, I also understand the pain of losing a parent. She lost her father as a preteen, and I lost you recently. The pain never truly disappears; we merely learn to cope.

I’ve been fortunate to have a strong sense of self, nurtured by you, helping me stand firm in my beliefs and values. Loyal family and friends appreciate me for who I am. I speak up and walk into every room as my authentic self, comfortable enough to be alone because I enjoy my own company.

May’s exploration of colorism and identity resonates, but I question some of her character motivations. These characters’ struggles reflect anti-blackness and internalized racism, but the themes are rarely examined in depth. Ronke remains a beacon of authenticity. Despite my frustrations, I appreciate the complex portrayals.

The distance between my journey and theirs is vast, yet I am drawn back to the book, unable to shake off its complexities. It’s not a perfect read, but it reflects life—messy, complicated, and unresolved. I would give Wahala 4.5 stars for its bold exploration of identity and societal pressures. It reminds me that not every story wraps up neatly, just like ours. I miss you more than words can convey, and I can’t wait to share my next read with you.

With all my love, 

Your Sang

The Contrarian Diasporan

(Disclosure: As an Amazon Associate, I may earn from qualifying purchases.)