African Postcolonial Literature: A Gothic Reading of ...

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November 2016

African Postcolonial Literature: A Gothic Reading of Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie’s Purple Hibiscus Dedré Engelbrecht November 2016 World Literature

“[…] we should not succumb too easily to the temptation to exclusiveness and dogmatic claims to a monopoly of the truth of our particular faith” – Desmond Tutu

Third generation Nigerian writer, Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie’s, 2003 anti-neocolonialist novel, Purple Hibiscus, encapsulates ideas of the Gothic and is set in a dystopian society, which creates an intricate tale of national, social and personal adventure and transgression. Writer and academic, Fred Botting, wrote that the era of the Goths saw a “fierce avowal of the values of freedom and democracy” (Botting, 1996: 5) and that such transgression and contestation cannot be examined without the serious consideration of the role the Catholic Church. Such “fierce avowal” (Botting, 1996: 5) towards the cultural and traditional expectations is quite cruelly interwoven into the text of Purple Hibiscus. Viewed through this Gothic lens, Adichie’s Purple Hibiscus is the quintessential example of Botting’s reclamation of freedom and identity, wherein the elements or “stock features” (Mabura, 2008: 205) of the Gothic are preserved and rewritten in African postcolonial literature. The idea of “invasions” (Heiland, 2004: 2) and transgression in Purple Hibiscus includes cruel and quite enlightened transgressions and growth of “national, social, sexual, and identity boundaries” (Heiland, 2004: 2-3) which is evident in Adichie’s writing of Kambili in the journey motif of the text and Kambili’s relationships between a variety of characters set up in the gothic. The text addresses the Nigerian culture and traditions in contestation with the missionary doctrine of the Roman Catholic Church1 that underpins the postcolonial Nigerian societal structure. This

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The concept of Roman Catholicism derives its meaning from the Greek word and adjective “katholikos” (McBrien, 1994: 1) referring to a “universal” (McBrien, 1994:1) doctrine or ideology.

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is also a key element in the nature of Kambili’s relationship between her father, the traditional Catholic man and tyrannical father, and Father Amadi, the enlightened Catholic and perceived gothic lover of Kambili. The text, as African postcolonial Gothic literature and auto-text, will be discussed by examining the Gothic features of the represented dystopian, the narrative order of the text, Kambili’s relationship between her father and Father Amadi and, the underpinning and textual contestation of the Gothic elements and the role of the Igbo language and the Roman Catholic Church as a catalyst of a dislocated cultural and societal identity. Adichie’s auto-text encapsulates the multifaceted and complicated nature of human interactions and human relationships in a dystopian society. The reader is immediately introduced to a number of characters in a fervent confrontational introduction where it is clear that there is a disagreement when “Papa flung his heavily missal across the room and broke the figurines on the étagère” (Adichie, 2013: 3) after Kambili’s brother, Jaja, “did not go to communion” (Adichie, 2013: 3). Immediately, an absolutist “contestation” (Mabura, 2008: 204) is set up between the characters – a contestation between an elderly figure of authority and a younger figure representing the enlightened. The text encapsulates the Gothic idea of “invasion” (Mabura, 2008: 203) – a change or invasion of Papa’s absolute religious boundaries and the boundaries of the submissive role of a son to a father. The chronological and narrative structure of a conventional text is invaded and changed as the narrative of Purple Hibiscus starts with the events on “Palm Sunday” (Mabura, 2008: 210), followed by “Speaking with Our Gods – Before Palm Sunday” (Mabura, 2008: 210), “The Pieces of Gods – After Palm Sunday” (Mabura, 2008: 210), and lastly, “A Different Silence – The Present” (Mabura, 2008: 210). Mabura (2008: 210-211) argues that the significance of the Sabbath is both a “literal and metaphorical” (Mabura, 2008: 210) technique, supporting the narrative structure of the text. The text of Purple Hibiscus identifies itself with features of Gothic fiction firstly through the “major locus” (Botting, 1996: 2) – Papa Eugene’s house. Fred Botting argues that a form of absolute location is pivotal and “typical” (Botting, 1996: 2) within the Gothic plot. In lending itself to a Gothic interpretation, Eugene’s house is the central castle of the plot around which the story develops and characters interact. This newly assumed castle is described by Kambili as the exact stock feature it is expected to be. Although our spacious dining room gave way to an even wider living room, I felt suffocated. The off-white walls with the framed photos of Grandfather were narrowing, bearing down on 2|P a ge

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me […]. Our yard was wide enough to hold a hundred people dancing atilogu. Spacious enough for each dancer to do the usual somersaults and land on the next dancer’s shoulders. The compound walls, topped by coiled electric wires, were so high I would not see the cars driving by on our street (Adichie, 2013: 7 -9)

This identified standard of the Gothic is the representation of the underlining “gloom and horror” (Mabura, 2008: 208). Gothic settings and described landscapes are “desolate” (Mabura, 2008: 208) where fear and uncertainty is suggested and used within the narrative construct of the text. It is within this setting or space that the contestation between the older traditions and the new conventions occur. Mabura (2008: 209) also states that the two houses of Eugene represent the contestation of the past traditions and the new ways - this contestation, essentially between Enugu and Abba. Furthermore, the broken features and eeriness of the castle, Eugene’s house, is a metaphorical representation of the brokenness and desolation of the human psyches which inhabit these spaces. Kambili’s father, Papa Eugene, is the narrative embodiment of the tyrannical Gothic father. This is established early in the novel, as mentioned, where Eugene expresses his disappointment of Jaja through violence. Papa Eugene is characterised early in the novel, not through the lens of a family man or that of the focaliser’s father, but rather through a rigorous religious lens - the concept of the father had been contaminated and invaded by the strict doctrine of the narrow religious structures of the Church and the boundaries within the human psyche of Eugene is distorted as a result of this. This is done to such an extent that Kambili states that Father Benedict would “[use] Papa to illustrate the gospels” (Adichie, 2013: 4). It is evident that Eugene, as the oppressive and tyrannical father figure has been corrupted by the Church in his seemingly desperate attempts to demand and hold onto some authority in the religious context. Kambili states that “Papa always sat in the front pew for Mass” (Adichie, 2013: 4) and that: He was first to receive communion. Most people did not kneel to receive communion at the marble altar, with the blond life-size Virgin Mary mounted nearby, but Papa did. He would hold his eyes shut so hard that his face tightened into a grimace, and then he would stick his tongue out as far as it could go (Adichie, 2013: 4)

Eugene displays an “absolutist” (Phillips, 2004: 8) fascination and sense of dangerous commitment to a universally indoctrinating institution. He has been influenced by Father Benedict and would engage in these ritualistic events “just as Father Benedict had taught them to do” (Adichie, 2013: 4). Father Benedict would use Papa Eugene as the embodiment 3|P a ge

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of the Church’s doctrine in contestation with the traditional Igbo traditions and Nigerian man in stating that: Look at Brother Eugene. He could have chosen to be like other Big Men in this country, he could have decided to sit at home and do nothing after the coup, to make sure the government did not threaten his businesses. But no, he used the Standard to speak the truth even though it meant the paper lost advertising. Brother Eugene spoke out for freedom. How many of us have stood up for the truth? How many of us have reflected the Triumphant Entry? (Adichie, 2013: 4-5)

Father Benedict also supports the suppression of the Igbo language “insisting that the Credo and kyrie be recited only in Latin; Igbo was not acceptable“(Adichie, 2013: 4) – Igbo tradition was not accepted in the Church. Furthermore, Eugene’s influence extends beyond his family to the church. He is a prominent figure in the institution of the missionaries as “Father Benedict usually referred to the pope, Papa, and Jesus – in that order” (Adichie, 2013: 4). It is clear that he had established himself on the invading and institutionalised side of the narrative and Gothic contestation. Kambili’s relationship with her father is contaminated by Eugene’s inability to distance himself from the strict doctrine he acted within in his role of the Church. This sense of absolutism and the “Colonial-Romanist project” (Mabura, 2008: 212) fostered in Eugene by Father Benedict, corrupted Eugene as a African and as a human – infringing on his free will as Eugene never seems to act out of the mental context of the Church and his immediate society. This is evident in his response to Kambili’s progress at school when she is not at the top of her class. Kambili is described as “a brilliant, obedient student and a daughter to be proud of” (Adichie, 2013: 39) but she immediately states that: [she] knew Papa would not be proud. He had often told Jaja and [Kambili] that he did not spend so much money on Daughters of the Immaculate Heart and St. Nicholas to have [them] let other children come first (Adichie, 2013: 39)

Furthermore, Eugene places Kambili’s failure to come first on her in stating that “you [Kambili] came second because you chose to” (Adichie, 2013: 42). Eugene is unable to recognise his daughter’s humanity in stating that she chose to be flawed in her attempts, not to better herself, but to uphold his expectations. This is also evident in Eugene’s punishment of Kambili when she and her brother return from visiting their aunt and Papa-Nnukwu. Eugene carries resentment for his own father and has distanced himself, as a religious man, from his traditional father and labelled his father as a heathen. Therefore, Eugene does not 4|P a ge

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want his children to associate with Papa-Nnukwu. Eugene attempts justify his punishment of Kambili on their return in telling her that “[Kambili] saw the sin clearly and [she] walked right into it” (Adichie, 2013: 194). He proceeds in pouring boiling water over her feet and continues saying “that is what you do to yourself when you walk into sin. You burn your feet” (Adichie, 2013: 194). Eugene is the Gothic oppressive tyrannical father, corrupted by a false indoctrinating institution. This places him in the physical and metal position of a false actualisation and enactment of the Catholic Church’s doctrine even if it is through violence – as he repeatedly displays in the novel. What are ironic are the words on Kambili’s mother’s shirt, God is Love, from a retreat she and Eugene had attended (Adichie, 2013: 7). Eugene is not able to escape the narrow construct taught to him by the Church and is under the false impression that he is acting out though love when he reprimands Kambili, Jaja and even Beatrice. He believed that his actions are justified by his religion. Papa Eugene even installed the tradition of a “love sip” (Adichie, 2013: 8) – that is to share a sip of tea “with the people you loved” (Adichie, 2013: 8). However, Papa Eugene’s actions are in contestation with his false sense of absolute belief and his words. Papa Eugene exerts control over his family, who could be viewed as his subjects, in assuming the role of an oppressive father figure. He controls every aspect of his children’s lives and to a further extent, their personal bodies. Eugene exerted control over Kambili’s femininity as she was coming into herself as a young woman. Kambili was taught that “vanity was a sin” (Adichie, 2013: 174). Kambili is in a personal turmoil, contemplating her own will, and somewhat instinct, to explore2 her own femininity. However, Eugene’s imposing views infringe on a healthy assimilation with things that are associated with the female – “lipstick” (Adichie, 2013: 174). Eugene denies his children any sense of privacy and seeks to maintain absolute control over Jaja and Kambili. Eugene denies Jaja’s request when asked “Papa, may I have the key to my room please?” (Adichie, 2013: 191). Eugene fails to see reason within the request and continues to accuse Jaja of wanting to commit a sin against his own body (Adichie, 2013; 191). Eugene’s attempts to maintain control in a flawed society is a final act of desperation. Eugene’s radical control over his children has long-lasting effects. After his

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Kambili is in a developmental stage in which she has to come to terms with and identify with her femininity in a social context, and in a personal context. It is crucial for her development into a functioning and productive cognitive, psychological and emotional adult (Donald, Lazarus and Lolwana, 2012: 34).

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passing, Kambili struggles to assimilate with her new personal and societal construct of freedom and choice as it is not dictated to her anymore. Even after his estranged father passes away, Eugene attempts to take control over the funeral arrangements. Eugene’s only response to Aunty Ifeoma’s words, “Eugene, our father has fallen asleep” (Adichie, 2013: 188), is “[…] did you call a priest?” (Adichie, 2013: 188). Eugene, who has labelled his father a pagan, attempts to exert a final bout of control over a man he from whom he disassociated himself. Eugene displays the serious extent of the Church’s desperate control – even control over the diseased that cannot fend for themselves. Eugene fails to act out of love and console his sisters and his children. Instead, he places focus on himself in stating that “I cannot participate in a pagan funeral, but we can discuss with the parish and arrange a Catholic funeral” (Adichie, 2013: 188-189). Eugene is unable to transgress beyond the internal narrow bonds the Church has on him to reach out to his family and honour his father and ultimately, the traditional man his father was. Instead, he desperately attempts to control and contaminate the very last part of his father’s remembrance in this world with religious contestation. Eugene’s final imposing, violent act and desperate attempt at exerting control over Kambili and Jaja fails to the extent where Kambili, the unprotected, becomes the protector. Papa Eugene acts out in absolute outrage because of a painting that is associated with his own father – a man whom he describes and a “heathen” (Adichie, 2013: 175). Eugene’s father is the embodiment of the traditional that Eugene has been fighting for so long. However, it is not clear why Eugene carries so much resentment towards the Igbo traditions and older ways and especially towards his father. Kambili’s subjectivity to her father’s violent assertiveness is in a predictive contestation – in some situations she “did not know what he [Eugene] was going to do […]” (Adichie, 2013: 193) and in other situations she was able to predict his reaction. This is evident in her foreshadowing of his reaction to seeing the painting. She predicts that: His eyes would narrow, his cheeks would bulge out like unripe udala fruit, his mouth would spurt Igbo words […] and that was what happened (Adichie, 2013: 209)

The narrative construct of the ultimate climactic moment sees the merging of two distinct themes of the text – Kambili’s journey from being a child to being a young female and Eugene’s final bout of anger towards her. Eugene realises that though Kambili’s interactions

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with Aunty Ifeoma and Papa-Nnukwu he had lost the false and weak hold he had on her for this exertion of control was based on a flawed human construct, struggling to survive over the traditional. Eugene expresses his anger in the Igbo language perhaps because he carries so much resentment and anger towards the Igbo traditions – he is trapped within his own anger. Kambili recognises her own internal contestation with her father as she knew how violently he would react towards them and punish them in saying that “perhaps it was what we wanted to happen, Jaja and I […]” (Adichie, 2013: 209). Kambili recognises and acknowledges the novel’s internal journey motif and unconventional narrative structure in stating that: Perhaps we all changed after Nsukka – even Papa – and things were destined to not be the same, to not be in their original order (Adichie, 2013: 209)

Kambili’s words are a personal revelation and end note of her own spiritual and psychological growth and journey. She acknowledges her own epistemological3 and ontological change. It is also a pivotal moment for the relationship between Kambili and her brother. The two siblings share a sense of transgression of physical and emotional boundaries far beyond their immediate circumstances and the commitment between the two of them is evident. Jaja assumes responsibility for the painting by stating that it is his when his father demands to know (Adichie, 2013: 209). Kambili wishes to protect her brother moments before she assumes the role of protector. Kambili, the unprotected, becomes the protector through her dramatic and last attempts to protect the painting of Papa-Nnukwu. Papa snatched the painting from Jaja. His hands moved swiftly, working together. The painting was gone. It already represented something lost, something I had never had, would never have. Now even that reminder was gone, and at Papa’s feet lay pieces of paper streaked with earth-tone colours. The pieces were very small, very precise. I suddenly and maniacally imagined Papa-Nnukwu’s body being cut in pieces that small and stored in a fridge. ‘No!’ I shrieked. I dashed to the pieces on the floor as if to save them, as if saving them would mean saving Papa-Nnukwu. I sank to the floor as if to save them […] (Adichie, 2013: 210)

Kambili’s final resistance to her father is a physical defiance and contestation between her, Eugene, and his father who Kambili had come to be familiar with. Mabura (2008: 216) states that “inevitably, this painting engenders the dramatic climax of the novel” and Kambili experiences a rebirth of herself as she states that “I lay on the floor, curled tight like the picture of a child in the uterus […]” (Adichie, 2013: 210). This climactic moment fuses the internal change Kambili is experiencing and the views of great artists and critics like Picasso 3

Kambili’s own construct of reality has changed drastically – she now realises that not only is change possible, but it is necessary for her and Jaja’s survival (Donald, Lazarus and Lolwana, 2012: 47-75).

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(in Anon., 2014: 1) who said that “Art washes way from the soul the dust of everyday life” and “Art is a lie that makes us realise truth” (Picasso in Anon., 2014: 3), Edgar Degas (in Anon., 2014: 1) who states that “Art is not what you see, but what you make others see”, and Henry David Thoreau (in Anon., 2014: 4) who states that “It's not what you look at that matters, it's what you see”. Kambili’s reality and essentially her own being is influenced and reshaped through the painting which is the catalyst to her and Jaja’s emancipation of their father’s oppressive and violent ways. This is evident when Kambili wakes up in the hospital stating that “I knew at once that I was not in my bed” (Adichie, 2013: 211). Kambili acknowledges her disassociation with the familiar- the previous violent ways of her father she was a victim of. Kambili is no longer who she was.

Through the Gothic lens, Father Amadi represents the Gothic lover, disproved by the tyrannical oppressive father of Kambili. Father Amadi represents Kambili’s sense of freedom – freedom from within a new religious construct of the narrow constructs of Eugene. Kambili describes her father, and his constricted ways, as suffocating and “narrowing” (Adichie, 2013: 7). This is in contestation with her description of her mental state in Father Amadi’s presence. Kambili relates his presence, and her sense of freedom, with “a clear azure sky’ (Adichie, 2013: 175) and states that Father Amadi “was like blue wind – elusive” (Adichie, 2013: 176). Kambili also returns to the memory of Father Amadi when her father tortures her in burning her feet with boiling water. She states that “I thought about Father Amadi’s musical voice” (Adichie, 2013: 195) in a desperate attempt to escape her own cruel reality. Kambili also recognises Father Amadi next to her hospital bed after her father violently beaten her. She states that “I wished that it did not hurt so much to smile, so that I could” (Adichie, 2013: 213). Father Amadi responds directly to Kambili – even to that which she does not say. He is able to respond to information Kambili does not disclose as she “would not implicate Papa, since Father Amadi obviously disagreed” (Adichie, 2013: 175). Kambili responds to Father Amadi’s call on her participation through religious references. He instructs Kambili to run and that by doing that she will “show [him] [she] love[s] the Lord” (Adichie, 2013; 176). By doing this, he introduces Kambili to the possibility of another form of love – a non-violent form of love beyond her father’s narrow and restricted understanding thereof. Father Amadi also introduces to Kambili another facet to religion. Responding to her question of why he chose priesthood, he does not attribute an absolutist state to the Church or to his profession. 8|P a ge

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He states that he was searching for answers to questions he had growing up and “priesthood came closest to answering them” (Adichie, 2013; 180). His use of cautious language displays his heightened sense of enlightenment and awareness of the Church’s shortcomings. This is in a direct contestation with Kambili’s father who “seems to reject or ignore the calculated manoeuvres and historical short comings of the Catholic Church in Igboland” (Mabura, 2008: 213). Father Amadi replies to Kambili honestly and is able to see her beyond the oppressed figure of an adolescent schoolgirl or child. He answers her, not from a traditional nor religious place, but from a more honest and human place of understanding. Father Amadi also displays a “Gothic nostalgia for a lost era” (Mabura, 2008: 212) in his initiations and singing of Igbo worship songs. Father Amadi’s introduction and display of an alternative version of the imagined God infringes on the narrow constructs of the “blond Christ hanging on the burnished cross in St. Anges” (Adichie, 2013: 178). Kambili expresses a disassociation with the God Father Benedict had introduced to them as she states that “I imagined God calling me, his rumbling voice British-accented. He would not say my name right; like Father Benedict […]” (Adichie, 2013: 179). To Kambili, the construct of God is still unfamiliar and other to her. Kambili welcomes the new interpretation but others do not except Father Amadi’s new ways. Eugene disproves of him in saying: That young priest, singing in the sermon like a Godless leader of one of these Pentacostal churches that spring up everywhere like mushrooms. People like him bring trouble to the church. We must remember to pray for him (Adichie, 2013: 29)

It is also through Father Amadi that Kambili is able to acknowledge other’s physicality and her own femininity, denied by her father. Kambili notices his “clay-smooth skin” (Adichie, 2013: 176) and his “broad square” (Adichie, 2013: 177) shoulders. She also acknowledges her own femininity and physicality in stating that “my lips and cheeks were frozen” (Adichie, 2013; 177) and Father Amadi’s gaze at her “on my legs, on any part of me” (Adichie, 2013: 176).

Kambili shares an emotional and physical bond with her mother who is also subjective to Eugene’s violent ways. On their return from their aunt, Kambili notices that her mother’s “face was swollen and the area around her right eye was the black-purple shade of an overripe avocado” (Adichie, 2013; 190). Beatrice also retaliates against Eugene through her

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final act of poisoning him. She descends into madness and ultimately assumes the Gothic role of the psychologically disturbed female. Beatrice herself is the embodiment of contestation – she chose her children’s safety and their lives over her own freedom and sanity, even though it took years to do so under which she suffered at the hands of Eugene.

Purple Hibiscus is an African postcolonial Gothic tale cautioning and warning against the falsely assumed sense of absolutism of the Roman Catholic Church and its definitive contestation with the concept of tradition. Adichie’s auto-fiction tells a tale of a child transgressing beyond a complicated set of interwoven boundaries in order to find herself and establish herself in the realms of religion and tradition – embodying two assumed contesting concepts. It is only through an extreme disassociation with herself that Kambili finds a sense of physical and emotional piece and forgiveness – she assumes the role of Kambili that was previously denied by her tyrannical father. Kambili’s shared, yet emotionally exclusive experiences with her mother and brother Jaja, provided the opportunity for these characters to emancipate themselves from the absolutist dystopian reality they were led to believe was the only reality. “All over Africa you see God’s children treated as if they were rubbish. In many parts of Africa you see God’s children having their noses rubbed in the dust. You see God’s children trodden underfoot by the powerful. In many parts of Africa God’s children can’t speak what they want to say […] We come to tell you that our God is a God who sees. Our God is a God who knows. Our God is a God who hears […] and so we tell the children of God everywhere that God will make you free” – Desmond Tutu

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Reference List: Adichie, Chimamanda. 2013. Purple Hibiscus.4th Edition. London: Harper Collins Publishers. Anon. 2014. 99 Inspiring Quotes about Art from Famous Artists. Accessed on 8 November 2016. Available from:

https://www.culturaloffice.org/wp-content/uploads/2014/06/Inspirational-ArtsQuotes.pdf Botting, Fred. 1996. Gothic. London: Routledge. Donald, David. Lazarus, Sandy. Lolwana, Peliwe. 2012. Educational Psychology in Social Context. 4th Edition. Cape Town: Oxford University Press. Heiland, Donna. 2004. Gothic and Gender: An Introduction. Malden, MA: Blackwell Publishers. Mabura, Lily. 2008. Breaking Gods: An African Postcolonial Gothic Reading of Chimamanda Ngozi Adiechie’s Purple Hibiscus and Half of a Yellow Sun. Research In African Literatures, vol. 39, no. 1, pp. 203-222. McBrien, Richard. 1994. Catholicism: Introduction. Catholicism. Boston College. Boston: Harper Collins Publishers. Phillips, Bill. 2004. “The Taint of a Fault”: Purgatory, Relavitism and Humanism. University of Barcelona. Spain. Sandwith, Corinne. 2016. Frailties of the Flech: Observing the Body in Chimamanda Ngozi Adiechie’s Purple Hibiscus. Research In African Literatures, vol. 47, no. 1, pp. 65-108. Tutu, Desmond. 2011. God Is Not A Christian. United States of America: Harper Collins Publishers. Wallace, Cynthia. 2012. Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie’s Purple Hibiscus and the Paradoxes of Postcolonial Redemption. Journal of Christianity and Literature, vol. 61, no. 3 pp. 465-483.

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