God’s Children are Little Broken Things, published in 2022, is Arinze Ifeakandu’s debut collection of short stories. It follows the lives of queer Nigerians and explores how culture, sexuality and identity intersect present day Nigeria.
The stories in this collection feel very intimate, almost like the reader is peeking into the writer’s journal and getting to see his soft, vulnerable parts. That’s the way Ifeakandu writes, and even though brokenness seems to be the recurring theme, it isn’t shown in a depressing way that makes you want to abandon all hope, but in a way that acts as a testament to how complex and resilient people can be. It’s reminiscent of Kintsugi, the Japanese art of fixing broken ceramic by putting it back together with molten gold.
The title, God’s Children are Little Broken Things, tells you all you need to know about the essence of the stories, while still leaving you with questions. It’s a title that recognizes the imperfections in all of us and chooses celebration over shame.
Ifeakandu’s protagonists are often young men trying to understand themselves and their queerness in a society that isn’t very accepting. He weaves their struggles, desires and personalities together on the page in so few words that it makes readers perceive the stories as longer than they actually were. Each character’s relationships with their families, lovers, and themselves are written with empathy and in a way that you can almost picture the scenes playing out in your head.
“On a warm Saturday night full of starlight, the man walked into Auwal’s shop and asked for a recharge card. ‘Scratch it for me,’ he said, and then took his time tapping in the numbers”. This is how the opening story, The Dreamer’s Litany starts. Auwal is married with a daughter and another child on the way. He wants nothing to do with this chief Emeka who comes back to his store again and again, buying more and more things, and eventually buying him. Especially since his last male lover was sent off to Cotonou when his parents discovered he was kissing boys. Still, against his better judgment, Auwal finds himself falling into Emeka’s bed, until he finds himself competing with the chief’s younger love. That is when he decides enough is enough.
A fan favorite,Where The Heart Sleeps, which follows a dead man’s lover, said lover’s wife and daughter. Dubem has passed and his brothers who wanted nothing to do with him when he was alive are clamoring to bury him. His wife carries the betrayal of her late husband in her heart, and a good amount of loathing for Tochukwu, his lover. But their daughter, Nonye, understands. Defying tradition and cultural stereotypes, it is Nonye who tells her uncle to get lost, and states that she will bury him herself, giving Tochukwu the opportunity to see him one last time before he’s put in the ground. Where The Heart Sleeps is the only story that features a woman’s point of view, showing that Ifeakandu doesn’t just see women as sympathetic wives, sisters or mothers, but as strong people who are also capable of making a change.
Good Intentions is another memorable story,not only because of how it blinks through the present and the past easily, but also the fact that it’s written in second person. “You could end it at dawn. It would shatter him, for how long, you do not know. But first, you take a walk,” Ifeakandu starts the story with. It catches you off guard at first, and then comes the curiosity. ‘You’ in this story is Doc, a 40-year old lecturer man in a secret relationship with a student at his university and is currently under fire for supposedly ‘converting boys into homosexuality’. The chapter starts with Doc walking somewhere to end his life, and throughout the walk, he reminisces on how he met his lover, how his mother found out he was gay and sent him to churches to be whipped until he was numb to it all, and how he ends up returning to the home that he shares with his lover in the end. He has a hearing the next day, where he will have to face the young men he has previously been with who have accused him of molestation in front of the whole school, but he also has a reason to live.
One strength of this collection of stories is that Ifeakandu has the ability to evoke deep emotions through his characters’ experiences. It’s easy to find oneself drawn into the worlds of the protagonists, and even when you’ve finished reading, it’s difficult not to continue to think about them. Auwal and his longing for a lost love, Tochukwu and his heavy grief. The author also paints a clear picture of typical Nigerian life, from bustling city streets to quiet shops where lovers meet and have their lives changed forever. He uses different languages and communication styles between characters to convey the kind of relationships they have as well. The switches from pidgin to English to characters speaking in their native tongue are seamless, and a chapter where this really shines is The Dreamer’s Litany.
The poetic quality of Ifeakandu’s writing serves to make the reading experience memorable and leaves readers with quite a few quotes that stick. One of which was when a young Doc in Good Intentions woke up in the hospital after an unsuccessful suicide attempt and caught sight of his mother’s red rimmed eyes.
“The pastors and prophets she dragged you to, each slashing and whipping away at your innocence, until the final one snatched it all, on the hard floor of his huge church placed among affluent mansions. Three days and two nights of praying and singing and Bible study, your parents present, his prayer warriors present. And one night alone with the Lord. And his servant.
You thought, watching your mother, of the song that went like this: What the Lord has done for me / I cannot tell it all.
What the lord did to you, you will never tell for all eternity.”
It is real in a way that makes one really think. Doc has never spoken about this to anyone, and perhaps he never will, but it has colored his life so deeply, as sexual assault does to all of its victims.
The pacing of a few stories were quite slow, as Ifeakandu tends to go deeply into the internal monologues and emotional landscapes of his characters though. That happens sometimes when a writer wants to take you deep into the inner workings of their protagonist and ends up leaving you on the shore. Alobam, which follows a semi love triangle between Obum, Ibrahim and Ralu is an example of this. The beginning seemed to drag on a little too long, but when it hits, you’re hooked. The casual intimacy between Obum and his partners is refreshing. Simple touches on the thighs, gentle hugs and fingers carding through hair. It’s calm in a way not all of the stories are.
The endings of some stories leave readers yearning for closure, although this reflects real life in a way. We don’t always get closure, and sometimes things just stay as they are. It wouldn’t hurt to know how Doc’s trial went though.
After reading God’s Children are Little Broken Things from cover to cover twice, it’s safe to say this beautiful collection deserved its win of the 2023 Dylan Thomas Prize. Arinze Ifeakandu’s exploration of queer identities within the Nigerian context gives readers a window into lives that are often hidden away. This is not only necessary for queers who feel underrepresented or unseen, but also for those who think the worst of queer people. It invites us all to find compassion and understanding in the little broken things that make us who we are.
