The Symbolism of Ankara Cloth in Death of the Author

What Ankara Cloth Is and Why It Matters in Death of the Author

Ankara is a West African wax print fabric known for its bold geometric patterns and vibrant colors. In Chapter 3, the robot narrator describes it as “the African wax print known for bearing the same intensity on the front as on the back, originally designed as a form of visual communication.” That definition is central to the novel’s use of the fabric: Ankara is not merely decorative but communicative, carrying meaning through pattern and color. Its dual-sided nature—equally vivid on both faces—becomes a recurring idea, suggesting that identity and story are not surface-level but run through to the core.

The fabric appears at pivotal moments across the novel: in Zelu’s Ankara pantsuit at an all-night diner and later at a Hollywood premiere, in the old pink-and-blue cloth she drapes over her legs in a wheelchair, in the orange cloth used to wrap Ngozi’s body, in the bracelet Zelu wears into space, and most significantly in the robot narrator’s self-chosen name. Each appearance shifts the fabric’s meaning, yet all connect to the novel’s central concerns with cultural identity and diaspora, authorship, and human and machine storytelling.

The Narrator’s Self-Naming: Ankara as Identity and Communication

The most direct engagement with Ankara as symbol comes in Chapter 3, when the narrator introduces herself. She explains that she gave herself the name “Ankara” after the fabric, and that she was “built with an Ankara theme, with geometric patterns and colors etched on my body and limbs that echoed the Ankara design of my operating system’s user interface.” She concludes: “Inside and out, I was Ankara. My soul was information, communication.”

This self-naming is significant for several reasons. First, it is a choice—the narrator selects her own identity rather than inheriting one from her creators. Second, the fabric’s association with visual communication aligns with her role as a Scholar who gathers and exchanges stories. Third, the idea of being Ankara “inside and out” echoes the fabric’s dual-sided intensity, suggesting that her identity is not a surface but a totality. The name connects a machine to a human cultural tradition, implying that storytelling and communication transcend the boundary between human and machine.

The narrator’s name also foreshadows her eventual transformation. In Chapter 51, she writes a novel titled Death of the Author, becoming the first robot to create an original story. The name Ankara—chosen for its communicative power—becomes the name under which she authors her own work, completing the arc from consumer of stories to creator of them.

Zelu’s Ankara Garments: Cultural Pride, Vulnerability, and Erasure

Zelu wears Ankara at several key moments, and each appearance carries different weight. In Chapter 1, Chinyere finds her sister at an all-night diner wearing an Ankara pantsuit and red heels, high and asking for a ride. The outfit suggests a deliberate self-presentation—Zelu is dressed to be seen, even in a moment of vulnerability. The pantsuit is both a statement of cultural pride and a costume of defiance.

In Chapter 26, Zelu walks the red carpet at the Hollywood premiere of her novel’s film adaptation in a “custom Ankara pantsuit” with her exos, and the media dubs her the “African cyborg.” Here, the Ankara fabric becomes a public declaration of identity in a space—Hollywood—that is about to erase that identity. The film adaptation strips away the Nigerian cultural elements central to her book, renaming characters and relocating the setting to the United States. Zelu’s Ankara pantsuit stands in stark contrast to the film’s erasure: she wears her heritage visibly even as the adaptation denies it. This tension connects directly to the theme of artistic integrity and commercialization.

In Chapter 38, Zelu uses an “old pink-and-blue Ankara cloth” to cover her legs when using a wheelchair in Nigeria, on her uncle’s advice to draw less attention. This is a different function: the cloth becomes a cover, a way to manage visibility. It is also a comfort object, a familiar fabric in a moment of physical vulnerability. The scene connects to the novel’s exploration of disability, technology, and bodily autonomy, as Zelu navigates how much of herself to reveal.

In Chapter 50, Zelu wears an Ankara bracelet during the starship launch. The bracelet is a small, portable connection to Earth and her heritage as she leaves the planet. It is the last appearance of the fabric in her story, and it carries the accumulated weight of all previous appearances: identity, memory, and belonging.

Ngozi’s Burial Cloth: Memory and Ritual

In Chapter 24, the narrator prepares Ngozi’s body for burial, “wrapping her in her favorite orange Ankara cloth” after washing her in the ocean and arranging her hair. The cloth here serves as a shroud, but it is also a preservation of identity. The narrator notes that she arranged Ngozi’s locs “in a pattern that robots would understand if they looked closely at it”—a form of communication encoded in the body itself. The orange Ankara cloth becomes part of this ritual of memory, connecting the fabric’s communicative function to the act of honoring the dead.

The narrator later places a stone etched with a scannable code containing Ngozi’s data on the grave, ensuring that Ngozi’s story continues. The cloth and the code together suggest that memory is both material and digital, both fabric and data. This moment also deepens the bond between the narrator and Ijele, who arrives in physical form to stand over the grave and exchange vows of loyalty.

The “Narrative Cloth” Metaphor

In Chapter 51, the narrator describes writing her novel: “I wrapped all this in the narrative cloth that was Ngozi—what she had taught me, what Ijele and I had felt from knowing her.” The phrase “narrative cloth” explicitly connects the fabric motif to storytelling. The narrator weaves Ngozi’s teachings, Ijele’s memories, and her own experience into a story, just as Ankara cloth is woven from threads. The novel she writes is titled Death of the Author, and it features a character named Zelu, based on Ngozi’s family history.

This metaphor extends the symbolism of Ankara cloth from a physical object to a creative process. The narrator, who names herself after the fabric, becomes a weaver of stories. The cloth that wrapped Ngozi’s body in death becomes the cloth of narrative that carries her story forward. The narrator reflects that “creation flows both ways,” suggesting that the act of storytelling transforms both the creator and the audience.

Connections to Themes

The Ankara motif connects to several of the novel’s central themes:

Authorship and the death of the author: The narrator’s self-naming and her eventual novel-writing challenge the idea that only humans can create stories. The fabric’s communicative function—originally designed as a form of visual communication—parallels the narrator’s role as a storyteller.
Disability, technology, and bodily autonomy: Zelu’s use of Ankara cloth over her legs in a wheelchair, and her Ankara pantsuit with exos at the premiere, connect the fabric to her negotiation of disability and technology. The cloth is both a cover and a statement.
Family, cultural identity, and diaspora: Ankara is a marker of Nigerian cultural identity, worn by Zelu across different contexts—from a diner in Chicago to a red carpet in Hollywood to a starship leaving Earth. It anchors her to her heritage even as she moves through vastly different spaces.
Artistic integrity and commercialization: The film adaptation’s erasure of Nigerian cultural elements contrasts with Zelu’s Ankara pantsuit at the premiere. The fabric represents what the adaptation strips away.
Human and machine storytelling: The narrator’s adoption of the name Ankara, and her eventual novel-writing, blur the line between human and machine creativity. The fabric, as a human cultural artifact, becomes the name and identity of a robot storyteller.

Study Questions

Why does the robot narrator choose the name “Ankara,” and what does this reveal about her identity and purpose?

The narrator chooses the name because the fabric is known for bearing the same intensity on the front as on the back and was originally designed as a form of visual communication. She was built with an Ankara theme, with patterns etched on her body, and she states, “Inside and out, I was Ankara. My soul was information, communication.” The name reflects her role as a Scholar who gathers and shares stories, and it connects her machine identity to a human cultural tradition of visual communication. The choice is deliberate—she gives herself the name—suggesting that identity can be self-determined rather than inherited.

How does Zelu’s relationship to Ankara cloth change across the novel?

Zelu wears Ankara in different contexts that shift its meaning. At the diner in Chapter 1, the Ankara pantsuit is part of a rebellious night out. At the Hollywood premiere in Chapter 26, the custom Ankara pantsuit is a public statement of cultural identity that contrasts with the film adaptation’s erasure of Nigerian elements. In Chapter 38, the old pink-and-blue Ankara cloth over her legs in a wheelchair serves as a cover to draw less attention. In Chapter 50, the Ankara bracelet worn during the starship launch becomes a talisman of home as she leaves Earth. The fabric moves from statement to cover to connection, reflecting Zelu’s changing circumstances.

What does the orange Ankara cloth used to wrap Ngozi’s body suggest about the connection between fabric, memory, and storytelling?

The narrator wraps Ngozi’s body in her favorite orange Ankara cloth as part of a burial ritual that includes washing, oiling, and arranging her hair. The cloth preserves Ngozi’s identity in death, and the narrator later places a stone with a scannable code containing Ngozi’s data on the grave. In Chapter 51, the narrator describes writing her novel as wrapping “all this in the narrative cloth that was Ngozi.” The cloth thus becomes a metaphor for how memory is preserved and transmitted—through both material objects and stories.

How does the “narrative cloth” metaphor in Chapter 51 connect the fabric motif to the novel’s themes of authorship and creation?

The narrator says she wrapped all this in the narrative cloth that was Ngozi, explicitly linking the fabric to the creative process. The narrator, who named herself after Ankara cloth, becomes a weaver of stories, creating a novel titled Death of the Author that features a character based on Ngozi’s family history. The metaphor suggests that storytelling is a form of weaving—combining threads of experience, memory, and imagination into a new whole. It also challenges the idea that only humans can create stories, as the robot narrator proves capable of original creation.