Fatherhood and Fatherland in Chimamanda Adichie's "Purple Hibiscus"

CHAPTER 1

INTRODUCTION:  SOCIAL AND HISTORICAL CONTEXT

Purple Hibiscus, by third-generation Nigerian novelist Chimamanda Adichie, is (at its most basic level) a coming-of-age tale. Fifteen-year-old Kambili and Jaja, her older brother, must face political unrest, uncaring classmates, and a strict home life. They also must deal with a father whose severe abuse will leave lasting scars—both physical and emotional. A close critical reading, however, reveals Purple Hibiscus to conceal much deeper levels of meaning. As a third-generation Nigerian writer, Adichie falls into the tradition followed by other Nigerian writers such as Chinua Achebe. The writings of these authors deal, either directly or indirectly, with the social and political upheaval of twentieth century Nigeria. While Adichie‟s second novel, Half of a Yellow Sun, has the Nigerian Civil War (also known as the Nigeria-Biafra War) as its direct setting, Purple Hibiscus addresses the situation in more indirect ways. Adichie uses the war as the allegorical, rather than the literal, antecedent for her novel. The war, a political coup aimed at altering the balance of power among several ethnic groups, is also a result of the British colonization of Nigeria, for this colonization attempted to unite the disparate tribes into one nation. Purple Hibiscus explores the issues of ethnic tensions and political unrest in Nigeria as parallels for coming of age and defining identity.

The earliest Nigerian civilization is traced to the fifth century. The next several centuries saw the rise of several powerful kingdoms, each with separate governments and languages. England began to explore the area in the early nineteenth century, though malaria caused death for most British explorers. British colonial rule began in Lagos in 1861. However, colonial Nigeria had been rife with problems, and “the fundamental cause had been the tribal hostility embedded in this enormous and artificial nation. For Nigeria had never been more than an amalgam of peoples welded together in the interests and for the benefit of a European power” (Forsyth 11). Eugene Achike, patriarch and father of Kambili and Jaja in Purple Hibiscus, is representative of colonialism and its problems. After a century fraught with administrative difficulties, England granted full independence to Nigeria in 1960. In essence, England pulled out colonizing forces without leaving any real infrastructure behind; the administrative issues were left to be dealt with by ethnic groups as many and varied as the problems themselves. This created a perfect storm of conditions for political unrest and identity crises.

Most of the population of Nigeria following the departure of British forces was located in the Hausa and Fulani communities of the northern part of the country. However, the southern and eastern parts of the country were more industrialized and educated (having, in fact, one of the highest literacy rates in Africa at the time). However, the increasing political and economic power of the Igbo people threatened the other ethnic groups: “as the power and influence of the Ibo grew, it seemed that they became more and more the objects of hate and distrust” (Schwab 4). A political coup on January 15, 1966, led by several Igbo (including Major General Johnson T. U. Aguiyi) was intended to stem this tide of hate by forcing Nigerian nationalism; Aguiyi suspended the 1960 constitution and dissolved the federation of separate states. This action sparked three months of anti-Igbo riots, the assassination of Aguiyi on July 29, 1966, and the deaths of some five thousand Igbo in the north by late September of that year (Schwab 5).

This, in turn, sparked the secession of Biafra as untold numbers of Igbo returned to the east. However, Nigeria feared losing control of lucrative oil fields in the Biafra region, leading to the Nigeria-Biafra War. After many deaths on both sides, Biafra forces surrendered. Biafra suffered more heavily than the other Nigerian forces, shrinking “to an estimated 1/10 of its original size and to a population of 3.2 million [from an estimated 14 million] during the fighting” (Schwab 115). The end of the war was not the end of the problems, however. Post-Biafra Nigeria has also been riddled with difficulties, varying from extreme violence between religious groups to government corruption and an unstable economy.

Post-colonial Nigeria, emerging into its future, is like an adolescent child— navigating both the past and the possibilities of the future, attempting to choose its own path and determine the best course toward its national goals. Like adolescence, however, the path is unsteady, pitted with peril, and fraught with unseen contingencies that must be navigated with the least amount of psychological and emotional pain and which can change the available options. This is particularly difficult given that adolescence is a time marked by internal struggles of identity in addition to those struggles that are external in nature.

Nigeria, as a nation, was caught in the throes of identity struggle following the Biafra War and the emergence of post-colonialism. Nigerian citizens may share a common identity, but they are only loosely bound as Nigerians. Citizenship is not enough to forge lasting, nationalistic bonds: citizens in nation-states [. . .] tend to be only conditionally, partially, and situationally citizens of nation-states. Identity struggles, ranging from altercations over resources to genocidal combat, seem immanent almost everywhere as selfhood is immersed—existentially, metonymically—into claims of collective essence, of innate substance and primordial sentiment, that nestle within or transect the polity. (Comaroff and Comaroff 634)

The citizens of Nigeria are attempting to navigate through an abundance of history, ranging from the histories of individual tribes and religions to struggles suffered on a national level. In order to move forward into the future, the citizenship must be able to forge a new identity.

The Igbo people are united to the rest of Nigeria by artificial measures of geography and resources, not by any ethnic or cultural bonds or by any particular feelings of nationalism. However, “indigenous and non-indigenous people share a history, if not a shared view about the normative consequences of that history” (Meskell 73). Regardless of the differences between the Igbo and the other cultural groups in Nigeria, they all form a part of the emerging nation‟s identity. They must work together to forge a new, postcolonial nation, uniting their disparate individual histories. The necessarily varied hopes of each of these groups create a multitude of potential futures; Purple Hibiscus‟ father figures represent the strongest or most likely of these, and the future that Kambili and Jaja will eventually choose must echo the eventual future of Nigeria.

While the Nigeria-Biafra War was about independence, the children of Purple Hibiscus are seeking to carve out their own identities. This is also true of Nigeria, “a young country in several striking ways, and the most telling is the age of its people: well over half are less than thirty; an amazing forty-four percent are under fifteen years of age” (Hawley 16). The youth of Nigeria are tasked with rebuilding the nation after a destructive war. Similarly, as Kambili and Jaja‟s family disintegrates, they must come into their own. This is metaphorically equal to the struggle of Nigeria to form its own identity in its post-colonial society; according to Madelaine Hron, “the child‟s quest for a sociocultural identity is inextricably linked to issues arising from postcolonialism and globalization” (27). The many father figures who provide models for the children represent the many facets of Nigeria‟s identities, present, past, and possibility.

The father figures of the novel are influences upon Kambili, even as Nigeria‟s past (both in reality and in dashed hopes) are influences upon its present: “As evidenced in the novel, Kambili‟s journey to adulthood also reflects the struggles of young Nigeria, as it negotiates Western and traditional norms, while also being overwhelmed by economic disparity, bad governance, pervasive corruption, or human rights violations” (Hron 31). Eugene Achike and Father Amadi, the two literal fathers of the novel, are the most obvious examples of this metaphorical conceit. Eugene Achike is a man of contrasts, embodying all of the diverse interests of post-Biafra Nigeria. Nigeria, at this time, has Islam and Christianity as its major religions, with indigenous religions a scant ten percent of the population; among Nigeria‟s many languages are Hausa, Yoruba, Igbo, and Fulani—yet English is the official language. Although Eugene absorbs some of the native traditions, he is decidedly a force for colonialism, both in terms of religion and culture. Father Amadi is a man who unifies; he has taken the diverse interests and fused them into cohesive whole.