Brick Lane - Monica Ali Textzusammenfassung Hilfe

Hallo,

kann mir bitte jemand helfen, den Text unten zusammenzufassen und die Frage dazu helfen zu beantworten?
Ich bin nicht so gut in Englisch aber brauche den Text unbedingt als Zusammenfassung noch bis morgen.

Danke im Voraus

MfG




The story opens with the birth of the main character, Nazneen, in the Mymensingh District of East Pakistan.
Her mother, Rupban, mistakes the pain of her contractions for indigestion. After an hour and forty-five minutes of bearing it in silence, Rupban lets out a screech that brings her husband Hamid running to kill whoever is attacking her. But it is too late, by the time Hamid finds out what is really happening and fetches the old midwife, Banesa, the baby has already been delivered and is showing no signs of life.
Banesa, who has claimed to be 120 years old for the past several years, announces that the baby is dead and she accuses Rupban of not calling her on time just so that she can save some money. Rupban`s sister-in-law, Mumtaz, accidentally drops
After an arranged marriage at the age of 18 to Chanu, a man 20 years her senior, Nazneen has exchanged her
Bangladeshi village for a block of flats in London`s East End. Their doctor, Dr. Azad, has visited them several
times socially on his own but has never invited them back. So one day, Chanu takes his family to call on the Azads
uninvited and unannounced. Mrs Azad opens the door wearing a short skirt. When the extract begins, Chanu is
talking about his baby son Ruku...

A girl walked in and stood with her hands on her hips in the middle of the room. She had inherited her mother`s
sturdy legs, but her skirt was shorter by a good few inches. She spoke in English. Nazneen caught the words pub
and money. Her mother grunted and waved towards Dr Azad. The doctor quivered. He spoke a few sharp words.
His shoulders were up around his ears. Chanu shifted in his chair and coughed. The girl chewed gum.The girl took the money.
Mrs Azad switched off the television. Let`s go, thought Nazneen. She tried to signal with her eyes to Chanu, but
he smiled vaguely back at her. "This is the tragedy of our lives. To be an immigrant is to live out a tragedy."
The hostess cocked her head. She rubbed her bulbous nose. "What are you talking about?"
"The clash of cultures."
"I beg your pardon?"
"And of generations," added Chanu.
"What is the tragedy?"
"It is not only immigrants. Shakespeare wrote about it." He cleared his throat and prepared to cite his quotation.
"Take your coat off. It is getting on my nerves. What are you? A professor?"
Chanu spread his hands. "I have a degree in English Literature from Dhaka University. I have studied at a British
university - philosophy, sociology, history, economics. I do not claim to be a learned gentleman. But I can tell you
truthfully, madam, that I am always learning."
"So what are you then? A student?" She did not sound impressed. Her small deepplugged eyes looked as hard
and dirty as coal.
"Your husband and I are both students. In a sense. That`s how we came to know each other, through a shared
love of books, a love of learning."
Mrs Azad yawned. "Oh yes, my husband is a very refined man. He puts his nose inside a book because the smelt
of real life offends him. But he has come a long way. Haven`t you, my sweet?"
He comes to our flat to get away from her, thought Nazneen. "Yes," said the doctor. His shirt collar had
swallowed his neck.
`When we first came - tell them, you tell them - we lived in a one-room hovel. We dined on rice and dal, rice and dal. For breakfast we had rice and dal. For lunch we drank water to bloat out our stomachs. This is how he finished medical school. And now - look! Of course, the doctor is very refined. Sometimes he forgets that without my family`s help he would not have all those letters after his name.`

`It`s a success story,` said Chanu, exercising his shoulders. `But behind every story of immigrant success there lies a deeper tragedy.`

`Kindly explain this tragedy.`

`I`m talking about the clash between Western values and our own. I`m talking about the struggle to assimilate and the need to preserve one`s identity and heritage. I`m talking about children who don`t know what their identity is. I`m talking about the feelings of alienation engendered by a society where racism is prevalent. I`m talking about the terrific struggle to preserve one`s sanity while striving to achieve the best for one`s family. I`m talking -`

`Crap!`
Chanu looked at Dr Azad but his friend studied the backs of his hands.

`Why do you make it so complicated?` said the doctor`s wife. `Assimilation this, alienation that! Let me tell you a few simple facts. Fact: we live in a Western society. Fact: our children will act more and more like Westerners. Fact: that`s no bad thing. My daughter is free to come and go. Do I wish I had enjoyed myself like her when I was young? Yes!`

Mrs Azad struggled out of her chair. Nazneen thought - and it made her feel a little giddy - she`s going to the pub as well. But their hostess walked over to the gas fire and bent, from the waist, to light it. Nazneen averted her eyes.

Mrs Azad continued. Listen, when I`m in Bangladesh I put on a sari and cover my head and all that. But here I go out to work. I work with white girls and I`m just one of them. If I want to come home and eat curry, that`s my business. Some women spend ten, twenty years here and they sit in the kitchen grinding spices all day and learn only two words of English.` She looked at Nazneen who focused on Raqib. `They go around covered from head to toe, in their little walking prisons, and when someone calls to them in the street they are upset. The society is racist. The society is all wrong. Everything should change for them. They don`t have to change one thing. That,` she said, stabbing the air, `is the tragedy.`

The room was quiet. The air was too bright, and the hard light hid nothing. The moments came and went, with nothing to ease their passing.

`Each one has his own tragedy,` said Chanu at last. His lips and brow worked feverishly on some private business.

1. Summarize the text and what does Chanu understand by `tragedy`?