As a queer person it hurts to know that there are so many people in the world who have to endure the same (or worse... I don't want to imagine) as Ijeoma. Devastating to read that nigerias president signed a bill in 2014 punishing queer relationships with either imprisonment or being stoned to death. And there is still no legal protection for queer people. This story is once again showing how important it is that we keep on fighting for our rights ❤️‍🩹

Eine sehr berührende Geschichte, die so oder in der Art leider noch an vielen Orten der Welt stattfinden kann und auch stattfindet. Während des Lesens fragte ich mich immer wieder, wieso Menschen nicht einfach akzeptieren können, dass es verschiedene Arten zu leben gibt und dies akzeptieren können. Was ist so schlimm daran, wenn ein Mädchen ein Mädchen liebt oder ein Mann einen Mann? In einigen Rezensionen habe ich gelesen, dass ihnen Ijeoma sehr abgestumpft und gefühllos vorkam. Mir erging es eher umgekehrt. Für mich verbarg sich hinter der nüchternen Sprache sehr viel Gefühl, noch mehr Verzweiflung und ein Mädchen, das versucht, so zu sein, wie es sein sollte. Es aber einfach nicht schafft. Manchmal wurde ich während des Lesens wirklich wütend, weil ich so viel Mitleid mit Ijeoma und ihren Leidensgenossinnen und -genossen hatte. Und noch immer habe. Einzig die plötzliche Veränderung der Mutter wurde mir nicht eingängig genug erklärt. Das ist mein einziger Kritikpunkt an diesem Werk.

Das Buch mag nicht perfekt sein, fesselt aber dennoch ab der ersten Seite. Im letzten Viertel verliert sich die Erzählung leider etwas, nur um dann recht abrupt zu einem Ende zu kommen. Doch worum geht es überhaupt? Wir befinden uns im Nigeria des Jahres 1967, zu Beginn des Biafra-Bürgerkriegs. Schnell diktiert der Takt der Bombenangriffe das Leben der Menschen. Zerstörung soweit das Auge reicht. Die verzweifelten Schreie von Überlebenden die in den Trümmern nach ihren Angehörigen suchen werden bald genauso alltäglich wie ausgehungerte Kinder die neben kopflosen, verstümmelten Leichen am Straßenrand betteln. Und genau dort Beginnt die Geschichte. Eine Geschichte vom aufwachsen im Krieg. Von Verlust, Trauer und Verzweiflung. Aber auch von der ersten großen Liebe und was es mit einem Menschen macht, wenn diese Liebe, diese Gefühle deinen Tod bedeuten können. Es ist die Geschichte der zu Beginn 11 jährigen Ijeoma, die sich in das gleichaltrige Mädchen Amina verliebt. Wir durchleiden mit Ijeoma Versuche christlicher Konversionstherapie, die ein Lebenslanges religiöses Trauma hinterlassen werden, aber natürlich nichts an ihren Gefühlen ändern. Wir sind an ihrer Seite wenn Freunde und Bekannte auf offener Straße für ihre Homosexualität zu Tode gefoltert werden. Wie sie unter dem Gewicht von Traditionen, religiösen Werten und der ständigen Angst um ihr Leben zu zerbrechen droht. Und es am Ende doch schafft, sich zu befreien. Wie man nach der kurzen Beschreibung schon erahnen kann, handelt es sich hier über weite Teile sicher um kein einfach zu ertragendes Buch. Dennoch würde ich für alle die es sich zutrauen eine Leseempfehlung aussprechen. *Bis heute droht auf Homo-und Transsexualität im christlichen Süden Nigerias eine Gefängnisstrafe von bis zu 14 Jahren und im streng islamischen Norden des Landes die Todesstrafe durch Steinigung nach dem Gesetz der Sharia.

I really, really wanted to love this book. All the ingredients that might have made me love this were there. The execution, however, did not work for me at all. It was chaotic, superficial and opened so many plot threads that were just abandoned later on. There were so many things that didn't work for me that I don't even know where to start, so let's start with the expectations: The back of the book and the endorsements promise a Romeo and Juliet-esque love story between two girls, Ijeoma and Amina, from opposing factions of the Nigerian civil war. The website of my bookstore indicates historical fiction that focused heavily on the effects of the war on different ethnic communities and "how the struggles and divisions of a nation are inscribed into the souls of its citizens". The goodreads description hints at struggles with religion for Ijeoma and coming to terms with her sexuality in a culture permeated by homophobia. Lastly, the author's note at the end of the book states that the book "attempts to give Nigeria's marginalised LGBTQ citizens a more powerful voice, and a place in our nation's history". And certainly, all of these aspects appear in some way in the book but given the segmentation of the book into six parts and an epilogue, which all focus relatively narrowly on one of these aspects, it never feels like they are woven into a cohesive narrative. It didn't utilise any of the different topic areas it was trying to address in an effective way to craft a narrative that works but rather mentioned them tangentially without properly diving into or exploring them. What this book ended up being was present day (or rather 2014) Ijeoma recounting her life story, starting when she was a child at the height of the civil war. She tells us that she starts there because it is what set the events in motion for her to meet Amina, a character who does not appear until Part 3 and then is gone again by the end of Part 4. Under the Udala Trees is not a love story between Amina and Ijeoma. When they finally meet in Part 3 it is conveyed to the reader via a memory within a book that is already a memory. Their relationship is episodic and it feels like we are given the bullet point version of events rather than shown any genuine connection between the two. (Admittedly, I still liked their relationship at that point, but I'm fairly certain I was just projecting what I wanted from the book onto it. In hindsight, the reader really is not given much to root for them.) The fact that they are from different sides of the civil war is brought up by Ijeoma's mother a handful of times but is never an actual concern. The war and its effects play a prominent role in part 1 and are brought up in conversation again in part 4 but it plays such a marginal role in the rest of the story that it might as well not have been in the book at all. True, it is what gets the characters where they need to be in the beginning, but it does not add much to the overall narrative. The book certainly focuses on religion and homophobia in Nigeria. However, the way it is handled leaves much to be desired. The entirety of part 2 is Ijeoma's mother reciting passages from the bible to her to prove that homosexuality is an abomination and Ijeoma, who grew up in the same culture, was taught the same religious and homophobic ideas, offering alternative interpretations to these passages. The only explanation the reader gets for why Ijeoma’s beliefs are not the same as her religion, her culture, her mother, is that we learn, right before it becomes relevant, that her father once explained the definition of allegory to her. This part of the book feels like it is there to exclusively and explicitly educate the reader, potentially a religious and/or queer person who may be struggling with this. Though, the impact of this is significantly lessened because she really only points out alternative interpretations of the bible without telling us how the character came to these conclusions or focusing on her actual struggles with it in this part. This is not the only time the book gives off the impression of directly talking to the reader, it's just the most blatant one. Anyway, at this point Ijeoma is not struggling with her sexuality, she "didn't think anything of it" in her own words, which I find hard to believe, since in later chapters the book shows how prevalent violence against LGBTQ people is in the country. She does begin to struggle with it as time goes on, however, in part 5, which, in my opinion, is the only part that made a proper attempt at contributing to what the book set out to do. It addresses Ijeoma's feelings about her sexuality when everyone tells her it is sin, it shows other LGBTQ people at the time, demonstrating that they have a place in Nigeria's history, there is a love story (granted, not the one the reader would expect going by everything they are told going in and I don't think we are given enough time to care about them as a couple either, but at least it was not a recollection within a recollection this time). As for part 6: it makes up almost a third of the book, which makes it the longest and also the most confused, as more topics are added at the last second without any page time left to possibly explore them. In short, this part shows us Ijeoma giving in to the societal pressure put on her, particularly by her mother, and follows her marriage to a man. It shows her attempts to make the marriage work and how it is affecting her and her relationship with her daughter. On the one hand, I do not think this was a bad addition. I assume this is the fate of many queer people in homophobic societies to avoid persecution. However, her husband is given significantly more page time and even arguably personality (albeit not a very pleasant one) than either of her love interests and the amount of time spent on him and their daughter just served to further muddle the trajectory of the narrative and the intention behind it. I don't think I've even mentioned all of the things that weren't up to par in this book, but to conclude: the book's main flaw, in my opinion, is that it tried to do too many things at once, tried to include too many issue areas and ended up not focusing on and exploring any of them. Resulting from that are characters and relationships that remain underdeveloped, plot threads that go nowhere in particular. I concede that that is just how life is sometimes but since we are reading a book, I expect at the very least a cohesive narrative that explores its themes at least somewhat comprehensively and Under the Udala Trees did not provide that.

This book is so beautiful, so sad and tragic and really hard to put away (if I had time to read outside of a train I would've finished much sooner). While reading I often thought to myself "I hope the author didn't write too much from her own experience". And I fear for LGBTQI people in Nigeria. I hope life will be better for them soon.