Political Satire: Chimamanda Adichie’sPurple Hibiscus
Kambili, the protagonist in Purple Hibiscus, uses the draconic ruling pattern of her father, Chief Eugene Achike, to reveal the problems in the entire Nigerian society. The unnecessary religious conflicts that make Kambili’s father to hate Papa Nnukwu; her grand father shows the high- handedness of some African people who use religion as a means of creating discord in their families. Uncle Eugene allows religion to becloud his sense of fellowship with his culture and society. His children must comply with the tenets of Catholicism. It becomes surprising that a man like Chief Eugene Achike who fights for the political freedom of his people through his journalistic ventures could apply what he attacks in his home. He engages in children and wife battery but criticizes those who batter the society. It looks like denying a phenomenon and embracing it at the same time. A paradox! He celebrates the relief that comes from coups believing that a new government means freedom in sight. He expects freedom but blocks it from his vicinity.
Kambili sees the contrast between her father and the military government when she critically asserts, “of course, Papa told us, the politicians were corrupt…, what we needed was not soldiers ruling us, what we needed was a renewed democracy. Renewed Democracy. It sounded important, the way he said it…” (25). This whole dream sounded as if Kambili is expecting a ‘renewed approach’ to the family affairs first before hoping for a renewed governance in the country. Adichie explains that the issue of governance in Africa would change when the individuals begin to examine within themselves the correct approaches to life that would enhance the development of good governance.
Kambili and Jaja never experienced ‘real’ love in their home at Enugu. It was Aunty Ifeoma’s home that provided the needed environment for them to experience love. Jaja falls in love with flowers and other chores. He expresses himself to his cousins. He visits scenes and places and exchanges gifts and experiences. He sees the love of a ‘heathen’ grandfather who tells them moral folk tales and the love of a reverend father who provides the needed atmosphere for peace and joy. Kambili sees the love of a sister who teaches her to cook meals, care for others and accommodate people around her. She ‘falls in love’ with Father Amadi. Father Amadi sees in Kambili the character of a heroine who talks less but acts more in her mind, “she does not waste her energy in picking never-ending arguments. But there is a lot going on in her mind, I can tell.” (173)
Amaka is also a strong voice. She seems to be one of the strongest female voices in our contemporary fiction. Amaka refuses to take an English name for her confirmation because she sees no need for such ‘colonial’ necessity. She was never forced to accept this ‘necessity’. Not even from Father Amadi whose closeness to the family ought to have given the necessary touch for Amaka to choose an Englishname:
“I told you I am not taking an English name, father,” she said
“And have I asked you why?”
“Why do I have to?”
“Because it is the way it’s done. Let’s forget if it’sright or wrong for now,” father Amadi said, and I noticed the shadows under his eyes.
“When the missionaries first came, they didn’t think Igbo names were good enough. They insisted that people take English names to be baptized. Shouldn’t we moving ahead?” (271-272)
Amaka represents the new hope for the coming generation of African women. Amaka seems to be the most vocal of these characters: young, resilient, outspoken and unbending in the things that touch her African pride. Kambili describes her thus: “She walked and talked even faster and with more purpose than Aunty Ifeoma did” (78). She is a rare breed of the new generation of youths. She is creative, accommodating, honest, outspoken and a dogged fighter. Even when Amaka left the country with her mother, she never stops her protests against those things she finds unpalatable in the Nigerian society. Kambili tells us that:
Amaka used to write to the office of the head of state, even the Nigerian Ambassador in America, to complain about the poor state of Nigeria’s justice system. She said nobody acknowledged the letters but still it was important to her that she do something. (300).
Adichie takes a historical stance in the exposition of the travails of military oddities in the novel. Ade Coker fights the military regime through the Standard newspaper. Uncle Eugene sees the fight as his needed role in the correction of military anarchy. Aunty Ifeoma flees the country to the United States in search of peace and academic freedom. Brain drain increases daily. Later, Ade Coker is murdered. Nwankiti Ogechi (a typology for Ken Saro Wiwa) is murdered:
Soldiers shot Nwankiti Ogechi in a bush in Minna. And then they poured acid on his body to melt his flesh off his bones, to kill him even when he was already dead. (200- 201).
After this killing, commonwealth countries suspended Nigeria and imposed sanctions. The Big Oga later dies “atop aprostitute, foaming at the mouth and jerking- …” (297). The Big Oga, invariably General Sani Abacha, is revealed as the ending point of Nigeria’s military rule. His death and the death of Uncle Eugene bring in a new hope, a dawn, to the polity. Jaja’s acceptance of the crime of murdering his father, even though his mother had claimed responsibility, shows the yearning of the family to get freedom from the brutal and strict father, just like the needed respite the Nigerian nation experienced with the exit of the dictator, General Sani Abacha. The symbol of the purple hibiscus bringing a new hope in their home is seen in Kambili’s new vision of tomorrow: “I reach out and place my arm around mama’s shoulder and she leans towards me and smiles...The new rains will come soon (307).
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