AQA A-LEVEL ENGLISH LANGUAGE AND LITERATURE B Paper 2B 7717/2 Texts and genres: Elements of political and social protest writing||QUESTIONS & MARKING SCHEME MERGED||

A-level ENGLISH LITERATURE B Paper 2B Texts and genres: Elements of political and social protest writing 2 IB/G/Jun23/7717/2B Section A Answer the question in this section. 0 1 Explore the significance of the elements of political and social protest writing in this extract. Remember to include in your answer relevant detailed analysis of the ways the author has shaped meanings. [25 marks] The extract is taken from Lagoon, a science fiction novel by Nnedi Okorafor, published in 2014. The novel portrays events in Lagos, Nigeria, after a group of aliens arrives in the city. People react with panic to the aliens and this results in the gradual breakdown of civil society. In the extract, the protagonist Adaora, with her companions Agu and Anthony, takes Ayodele (one of the shape-shifting aliens) to see the dying President. In the confrontation, Ayodele sets out her demands to the President. The Igbo and the Hausa are indigenous ethnic populations in and around Nigeria. Adaora stepped forward. “My name is Adaora,” she said. “I am a marine biologist. This is Ayodele. She is one of them, one of the . . . the extraterrestrials. She is their ambassador. She was the first to make contact and she seeks an audience with you, Mr President. We’ve gone through a lot to get her here.” The soldiers pointed their guns at Ayodele as they moved to shield the President. “Oh, move aside,” the President snapped at the soldiers, becoming a little more animated. “Do any of you think you can save my life? Look at me! I’m nearly dead already!” He muttered something in Hausa. “Come,” he said, looking at Ayodele. She stepped up to him. Her long braids blew in the soft breeze. Both of the young soldiers holding up the President looked terrified. Above, the dark sky was warming as sunrise approached. “Are you truly a stranger? An extraterrestrial? An alien?” “Yes.” “You look like a woman from Igboland.” “Looks can be deceiving.” He chuckled weakly and then coughed. “Prove it.” She paused. Then she said, “Watch closely.” Even as she spoke, her words were falling apart, disappearing into the din of metal balls on glass, shifting and reshaping along with her body. The soldiers guarding the President dropped their guns, the wives screamed, and one of his advisors fainted. The pilot fell to his knees and began to vomit. The President watched with wide eyes. Thankfully the two soldiers carrying him did not drop him, though one of them started to sob and the other seemed to be having trouble breathing. Ayodele was now a broad-shouldered, stocky white man in a blue uniform with bushy grey hair and beard and haunted eyes. He had a mustache like a handlebar. Ayodele-the-man put her hands on her hips and cocked her head. 3 IB/G/Jun23/7717/2B Turn over ► The President’s mouth fell open. “Karl Marx,” he whispered. “I . . . I . . .” “I know,” Ayodele said, in a manly voice. She stepped closer to him, graceful in her man’s body. “You believe in Marxism, yet you are too powerless to enact it.” The President whimpered. “I can read the air you breathe,” she said. When he still could not speak, she changed back. Her second transformation was too much for the guarding soldiers, the pilot, even the advisors. As one, they turned and ran. One of the soldiers holding up the President started praying to Allah under his breath; the other continued to sob. “Does this help?” she asked, watching them run. When her gaze returned to the President, he licked his lips and took a deep breath. “Y-yes.” “Would you like me to look more Hausa?” “It’s . . . no, you are fine.” “I did not mean to frighten you.” “You are evil!” Zena shouted from behind him. “I am not,” Ayodele said flatly. “I am change.” “How did you take over all the mobile phones?” the President asked. “It wasn’t just the mobile phones and it wasn’t just me. They helped,” she said, motioning to Adaora, Anthony and Agu. “So did Adaora’s offspring.” Ayodele continued. “As did my people. As did your people. It is a matter of connecting and communicating.” She grinned. “And your technology is simple, easily manipulated.” “And yours is not?” “We are technology, Mr President. And no, we are not easily manipulated.” “What do you want?” “We do not want to rule, colonize, conquer or take. We just want a home. What is it you want?” He paused. “To be alive again.” “I will make it so.” Turn over for Section B