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Content Warning: The novel and this section of the guide contain references to violence, murder, drug use, rape, human trafficking, child abuse, and child sexual abuse.
Little Rot opens early on Friday evening as Kalu drives Aima to the airport. The two began dating almost five years ago in Houston, where Aima had moved for a “cushy finance job” (13). However, when they returned home to Nigeria, their relationship became complicated. In New Lagos, Aima reconnected with her Christian faith and was overcome by the guilt of “living in sin” with Kalu (4). However, after months of arguments, he still refused to marry her, so she decided to leave. They are silent on the drive, but when they pull up to the departures hall, Kalu finally addresses “the true thing” (3), asking Aima one more time to reconsider. Although they still love each other, it “isn’t enough,” and Aima leaves Kalu to enter the airport.
Once inside, however, she changes her mind and calls Ijendu, her best friend, asking if she can stay with her. Ijendu is glad to receive her friend, and Aima calls an Uber to take her back to the city. As she waits for the car, she balances on the edge of her suitcase and thinks about her tendency to “fit into slivers of space, press herself against the edges so she wouldn’t bother anyone” (8). Eventually, she couldn’t do that anymore with Kalu, and she left him when he wouldn’t accept her insistence that they either marry or break up. In the backseat of the Uber, Aima listens to gospel music and thinks about how she prayed for a love that would protect her from loneliness. She felt that with Kalu for years, but now it’s all gone. She wonders if the loss of her relationship is God’s punishment for living with her boyfriend without being married and feels consumed by “bitterness.”
Aima is greeted by Ijendu’s gateman and finds her friend preparing dinner. She serves Aima a plate, telling her friend she is glad she is staying. Aima holds back tears, feeling “stupid” for believing her relationship would last without the commitment of marriage. Ijendu decides that Aima needs a distraction and suggests that she go clubbing with Ijendu and her friends, “bad gehls” that Aima doesn’t approve of. Aima and Ijendu have been friends since childhood; they attend the same church and Bible study, but somewhere along the way, “Ijendu had splintered off quietly into a secular decadence” (12). Aima doesn’t judge Ijendu for her indulgences but doesn’t condone them. She agrees to go out with Ijendu and her friends, but her mind is still on Kalu.
By 10:05, Ijendu’s friends arrive, playing loud Nigerian music as they dance and get ready. Aima feels like “a visitor to a godless place” (15), observing the girls as if from another world. When one of the girls offers her a small pill, Aima surprises Ijendu by taking it. Ijendu always offers Aima these “doors and windows” to “that world” (15), but Aima never walks through. Tonight, however, she is “angry with God” and intends to “play in the places she wasn’t supposed to” (15). As she swallows the pill and looks at Ijendu, she feels the “old confidant” of a secret desire. The other girls finish their makeup, dancing and laughing, but Aima continues to feel “so separate from them” (17).
By 12:30 am, the girls are occupying a number of tables at an exclusive cocktail bar. Aima is several shots deep, hoping to shake off her “funk” and fit in with Ijendu’s friends. Ijendu tells the group that she is having lunch with her godfather, an influential preacher called Okinosho, and she hopes he will give her some money to go to Milan for a shopping trip. One girl jokes that Daddy O “likes to spoil all his daughters in God” (19). Ijendu points out that she doesn’t “have to do anything” for her godfather’s money, unlike “the girls he privately fucked and sponsored while still wearing his wife on his arm in public” (19). However, this behavior is common among the city’s married men, and the girls laugh it off. Aima even thinks that maybe she got “lucky” and avoided this fate by not marrying Kalu. It’s possible, though, that he was already sleeping around behind her back, perhaps at some of the “secret parties” he attended with his friend Ahmed. Aima thinks of Ijendu’s brother, whose wife kicked him out for having sex with their nanny. He moved back to his parents’ house and used his company credit card for the hotel rooms where he had his affairs. Aima muses that “you could do whatever in New Lagos” (20); no one needed to know about it, and most wouldn’t care. Perhaps that would have been her life with Kalu, and he wanted to prevent them from falling into the same pattern.
The girls move to a second club, and Aima dances to distract herself. She notices Ijendu texting, so she begins dancing with her friend, causing the men at surrounding tables to stare. Emboldened by the drugs and alcohol, Aima slides her hand across Ijendu’s thigh, asking if she might help her feel better about her breakup. Ijendu is surprised but doesn’t pull away. She warns Aima not to start something she can’t finish, and in reply, Aima slips her hand under the hem of Ijendu’s dress. Ijendu blushes and pulls away to call the driver.
At 11:12 on Friday evening, Kalu pulls into the estate where Ahmed’s party is being held. He dons a mask as he climbs out of the car, feeling like a different man. He remembers the awful fights with Aima where she sobbed that she had wasted her life on a man who wouldn’t marry her. Kalu knew he should comfort her, but since returning to New Lagos, Aima has become a woman he no longer recognizes.
A masked doorkeeper greets Kalu and kneels before him to untie his shoes with an eroticism that catches him off guard. Before he can enter, she presses her mouth to his and passes him a pill on her tongue. In the apartment, he is greeted by a room full of “writhing, sweating, gleaming skins” (28). Ahmed spots him quickly, and the two embrace. He says the party is going well and suggests that Kalu forget Aima and eliminate some of the “weight between his legs” (29).
Kalu finds a drink and peruses the buffet of appetizers, watching as a man fills his plate. Despite his mask, Kalu recognizes the guest as an important senator, but discretion is key at Ahmed’s parties. He wanders out onto the balcony, watching the party go on around him but feeling distant from it, experiencing “a curious numbness” instead of the “belonging” he is used to (31). He meets a woman on the balcony who asks him without preamble if he sometimes wishes he’d never returned to New Lagos. He laughs, telling her you “just have to switch your mind over” (34). However, he secretly doubts this is “enough to fortify against the things New Lagos would proceed to do to you” (34). The woman tells Kalu that complacency makes him “complicit”; the “rot” of New Lagos will seep into him. They both look back in on the party and watch as the boy who came with the senator unbuttons the older man’s pants and begins performing oral sex on him.
The woman complains that “gays and pedophiles” are “everywhere” and tells Kalu that “some things shouldn’t be indulged” (35). Then she approaches him and touches his crotch, asking if he likes to “do things in front of people” (35). Kalu turns her down, still thinking of Aima, and the woman snaps at him as she goes back inside, saying that there is a child at the party he can have sex with if that is more to his liking. Kalu feels shocked and panicked at the thought of a child at the party. He tells himself that Ahmed would never allow such a thing, but he hurries back inside and starts looking through the apartment. He breaks through a locked door and is met by a bouncer blocking his view of a circle of men behind him. To the bouncer’s surprise, Kalu guesses the password correctly, and he lets him pass. Inside, Kalu finds the men circled around a girl handcuffed to a mattress. She looks to be around 14 or 15 and is crying as a large man penetrates her. Filled with rage, Kalu rushes at the man, pulling him off the girl and throwing him to the floor. The bouncer intervenes, seizing Kalu and throwing him into an empty office.
Kalu lies on the floor, sobbing and dry heaving. Ahmed enters and accosts Kalu for assaulting his guests. Kalu punches his friend, accusing him of letting men have sex with children under his roof. Ahmed insists that it is a misunderstanding: The girl isn’t underaged; she is a sex worker who looks young, and the men “pay loads of money for that fantasy” (41). He assures Kalu that the girl is very well compensated and that the tears are all part of the act. Kalu hesitates to believe his friend. He thinks that Ahmed is the only one of his friends who understands why he couldn’t marry Aima and “how he was struggling to hold on to who he was even as the city tried to strip him of it” (43). The “rot” of New Lagos hasn’t affected Ahmed like it does others because he “started from the gutter” (43). Kalu thinks of Ahmed’s string of relationships, none of which have stuck, and Ahmed’s complaint that women want a man and a relationship that follows “the formula.” Ever since boarding school, Kalu and Ahmed have been “a unit.” Kalu remembers one night sleeping beside Ahmed and masturbating when he thought his friend was sleeping. He was surprised when Ahmed reached around to touch him, but he reciprocated the touch until the boys orgasmed together. Although they never spoke of the incident again, Kalu still remembers how Ahmed had gasped his name.
Now, in the office, Kalu demands to know how old the girl is. Resigned, Ahmed tells him she is 17. Kalu laughs incredulously, but Ahmed demands that he remember where he is. He asks if the setup is really so shocking, insinuating that Kalu himself has wondered what it would be like to have sex with a child. He tells Kalu that New Lagos “isn’t fucking America,” and the “ugly things” aren’t hidden (47). The girl he hired is a sex worker and is “lucky” to have Ahmed taking care of her, paying her royally, and protecting her safety. He tells Kalu that “the other ones,” the sex workers he doesn’t see through the tinted windows of his expensive car, “get ripped apart and beaten into a bloody pulp” (48). Kalu is crying, and Ahmed presses his forehead against his friend’s. He tells Kalu that he doesn’t belong in the “gutter” of his parties and takes him outside. Before putting Kalu in his car, Ahmed tells him to call Aima and “surrender.”
In the car, Kalu thinks of all the times he came home to Aima after sleeping with other women, wondering, “Is this not Nigeria and was he not a man just like those men in the locked room?” (50). He closes his eyes to avoid seeing “the women who walked the night” (50).
It’s 12:45 am as Ahmed watches Kalu’s car pull away. He feels anger welling up and heads back inside, where he surveys the party, watching as the senator finally orgasms. He thinks what a scandal it would be if anyone had a picture of the important man in that compromised position. Ahmed knows it is his responsibility to “protect” his guests, and he takes this seriously. Eventually, he is approached by a designer called Timi. As her sister, whom he once spent a weekend with in Cape Town, looks on, he leads her toward one of the bedrooms. On the way, however, one of the guards stops him, telling him the men are finished with the young sex worker, and she is waiting for him in his office. Ahmed tells Timi to wait for him and goes to see the girl, Machi. She looks tired but clean, and Ahmed is grateful he didn’t have to see the state the men left her in. Unable to shake the image of Kalu’s distress, he tells her that his driver will take her back to his house so that she doesn’t have to make her way home in the dark. At first, Machi resists, thinking that Ahmed means to have sex with her as well. He insists that he only wants to give her a safe place to sleep and is alarmed to learn that the woman he arranged the girl’s deal with only promised her a fraction of the cash he paid. He tells her they will sort everything out in the morning and calls his driver, Thursday, to take her away.
Ahmed finds Timi waiting for him in bed. He demands that she take her clothes off, but she refuses, teasing him. Ahmed feels so “volatile” that he worries for a moment he might actually hurt Timi, but then she whispers what she wants him to do to her into his ear.
At 5:54 am, Ahmed is woken by a knock. He leaves Timi in bed and opens the door to find the bouncer, who tells him the party has wrapped up. He dresses and ventures out into the main room to survey the aftermath of the party. Thursday tells him that Machi is sleeping back in Ahmed’s guest room, and the cleaners are on their way. Satisfied, Ahmed tells Thursday to fetch the car and drive him to Ruqaiyyah’s house. Thursday is surprised, reminding Ahmed that the night before was the full moon, but he agrees. Arriving at the house, Ahmed thinks that visiting Ruqaiyyah is “an escape.” Sleeping with Timi hadn’t been enough to dull the “irritation […] scraping inside him” (69), and now he is seeking something else. Ruqaiyyah greats him. She has been inviting him to her parties every full moon for over a year, and now she takes his hand and leads him inside, where Ahmed knows the morning will “feel like a never-ending night” (70).
At 3:07 am, Aima and Ijendu make out frantically in the backseat of the car on their way home from the club. The driver doesn’t glance back at them, and Aima wonders how many other times her best friend has done this. Mostly, however, she is amazed that a “godless place” can feel so good. She feels like the driver is “unreal,” and her usual “restraints” are “broken open” (72). When they arrive, Aima meets the driver’s eyes for a brief moment in the rearview mirror and tries to rearrange Ijendu’s dress. Her friend giggles, and they slip out of the car together. As Ijendu closes the door to her room, Aima feels a moment of anxiety now that they are truly alone. However, as Ijendu undresses, the anxiety and fleeting memories of Kalu belong to a different world and cannot exist in this one, and the girls fall into bed together.
Aima wakes next to Ijendu at 5:15 am and stumbles to the bathroom where she relieves herself and then stands under the shower’s scalding stream of water until it starts to cool. She tries to remember what happened in bed with Ijendu, but her thoughts keep slipping away. She dries herself, pulls on a shirt hanging on the back of the door, and pads downstairs to find a glass of water. As she drinks, she notices someone out on the veranda. She slips out the door to find Ijendu’s brother, Dike, smoking a joint. Aima expresses surprise that Dike is awake, and he tells her it was impossible to sleep with the racket she and Ijendu were making. To Aima’s intense embarrassment, he mimics the sound of Aima’s and Ijendu’s moans, telling her he never took her as “that type.” Rather, he imagined she was “the type you have children with or put in your house” (77). He tells her she hasn’t changed since they went to Sunday school as children and asks if she is really the kind of girl to go out drinking and have casual sex. Aima is furious, telling Dike he doesn’t know her. As he walks inside, Dike murmurs that there is nothing wrong with being “this girl.” He tells her she is wearing his shirt and invites her to come to his room if she wants to return it.
At 10:34, Aima is woken again by a wave of nausea. She rushes to the bathroom, where she vomits uncontrollably, then curls up on the tile floor, sobbing. She feels devastated by the loss of Kalu and the thought of him in the city without her. She wonders if he has already found someone new to sleep with but then realizes she has done just that with Ijendu. She screams in grief and shame as she thinks of the “sinful” way she became intoxicated and had sex. Yes, she had slept with Kalu before marriage, but she had always intended to marry him, and she had never put herself on display as she did making out with Ijendu in front of her driver. She feels like her hangover is punishment for her sinful behavior, and she begins to pray curled on the bathroom floor. In Houston, God hadn’t felt as loud to her, and she had begun skipping church. However, back in New Lagos, faith had returned to the forefront of Aima’s mind, and now she cries and begs forgiveness for straying so far.
Little Rot opens with a dedication, “To those of us who cannot help but look at true things” (vii-viii), and a Toni Morrison quote that reads, “I’m just trying to look at something without blinking, to see what it is like, or it could have been like, and how that had something to do with the way we live now” (ix). Both the dedication and epigraph are analytically significant to the novel. Little Rot is a story about how violence—especially sexual violence—is kept hidden and out of sight. The novel attempts to simply bear witness to this ugliness, to look at it “without blinking” and understand how it affects society as well as individual lives. This act of bearing witness often requires significant courage, especially when it reveals aspects of one’s own self that one might prefer to keep hidden. Over the course of the novel, some characters feel empowered by their ability to look upon this darkness, while others are nearly destroyed by it. Nevertheless, the novel suggests that nothing is gained by looking away; violence does not cease to exist if it is hidden or ignored.
The first four chapters of Little Rot delve into the story of Kalu and Aima and the aftermath of their breakup. The novel is set in the fictional city of New Lagos, Nigeria, where The Ubiquity of Male Sexual Violence tends to have an almost poisonous, corruptive influence on the city’s residents. This sense of contamination is evident from the start of the novel. As Kalu drives Aima to the airport, the sun sets “in an oily splash of color” that looks like “streaked blood […] under swollen clouds” (1). This implies the toxicity of the environment, and this sense of taint and contamination is transmitted directly to Aima in the bodily sensation of “nausea slicking greasily inside her” (1). Throughout the novel, the “rot” of New Lagos corrupts even the most well-meaning of the characters. The change that the city inflicts on individuals first becomes apparent in Aima and Kalu’s relationship. Although they were happy in Houston, something changed at once when they came back to Nigeria. There were many aspects of Kalu’s behavior that Aima “didn’t recognize,” and Aima began to speak “as if another woman’s mouth had eaten hers” (25). In Houston, Aima had nearly forgotten the Christian faith she had been raised with, but in New Lagos, the constant threat of sexual violence leads her to turn toward faith as if for protection against a sexual marketplace in which women are treated as commodities. Soon, neither Aima nor Kalu fully recognizes the other: The “rot” of New Lagos has begun to infect the “true thing” that is their love.
This change in Aima and Kalu’s relationship and personalities introduces the theme of The Influence of Circumstance on Individual Actions and Identity. Throughout the novel, Akwaeke Emezi suggests the elasticity of identity, particularly in response to changing circumstances. Moving back to Nigeria changes both Aima and Kalu profoundly, but the influence of circumstance on personal identity becomes even more apparent as the novel progresses, and characters find themselves swayed further from their own morality and sense of self. Emezi often describes different environments, like Ahmed’s parties or clubbing with Ijendu’s friends, as separate “worlds” with “doors and windows” one can walk through (16). However, what is true or real in one “world” isn’t necessarily true in another. For example, while drinking and taking drugs with Ijendu and her friends, Aima becomes a different “type” of girl, abandoning her morals and behaving like “someone with no decency” (81). This phrase suggests the degree to which behavior and identity are linked in Aima’s mind: Whenever she thinks about what she is doing, she also thinks about what she is becoming.
The novel’s opening chapters also begin the central conflict between Kalu and Okinosho. Kalu’s frantic defense of the underage sex worker Machi illustrates The Fight to Maintain Moral Integrity and foreshadows the ultimate futility of this fight. Throughout the novel, corruption and immorality are so widespread that it becomes difficult for characters to know where to draw the line. Aima thinks that “[y]ou could do whatever in New Lagos” (19), but this blanket permission applies only to men, while women are left to face the consequences of men’s choices: “[W]omen accepted the futility. They just assumed their husbands were sleeping around because that made it a little easier when they were” (20). The proliferation of extramarital affairs among the city’s upper-class men is normalized and laughed off, and this impunity paves the way for far worse transgressions. In this context, characters often attempt to preserve their moral integrity even as they participate in society’s corruption, making their efforts empty and hypocritical. Kalu attacks the pastor to protect Machi, yet Ahmed points out that he has never worried about the many sex workers who “get ripped apart and beaten into a bloody pulp” (48) and remain hidden by the tinted windows of his expensive car. In many ways, he is just like the other men at the party. He has had sex with other women many times while with Aima, and Ahmed even taunts him by suggesting he has fantasized about having sex with young girls like Machi. This idea that none of the characters can claim moral superiority will be further developed as the novel progresses.
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