
I have met Chinua Achebe only three times. The first, at the National
Arts Club in Manhattan, I joined the admiring circle around him. A
gentle-faced man in a wheelchair.
“Good evening, sir. I’m Chimamanda Adichie,” I said, and he replied, mildly, “I thought you were running away from me.”
I mumbled, nervous, grateful for the crush of people around us. I had
been running away from him. After...