“I wanted to tell Mama that it
did feel different to be back, that our living room had too much empty space,
too much wasted marble floor that gleamed from Sisi’s polishing and housed
nothing. Our celing was too high. Our furniture was lifeless: the glass tables
did not shed twisted skin in the harmattan, the leather sofas’ greeting was a
clammy coldness, and the Persian rugs were too lush to have any feeling. But I
said, “You polished the etagere.” "
The above text appears when Jaja
and Kambili return from Nsukku, their Aunty Ifeoma’s house, and witness their
place as dull and lacking warmth even though the house glistened like a palace.
The warmth that Aunty Ifeoma’s house had carried during the days they spent
despite having a nondescript house and where they prayed every day for Peace
and Laughter. Laughter among all the things. Because Laughter was valued in
their house everyday despite living with shortcomings something that Kambili
hardly got to experience in own house in front of her father. Father – a devout
Catholic who is a strict disciplinarian and feared authoritarian yet extremely
generous towards the community. Aunty Ifeoma’s house had blessed quiet even in
those noisy moments and where they did not follow any schedule or have such
paper stuck in the walls of the room unlike in those high walls of their own
house where schedule mocked their father Eugene’s stoned face.
Chimamanda
Adichie’s Purple Hibiscus is a tale of abuse, hope and survival thereby letting
the freedom conquer. Reading this novel took me to a different universe. One
part of me was living in that universe with Kambili, Jaja and their fearless
Aunt and cousins who had a voice. I will stress voice because it was harshly
snatched from Kambili and Jaja. After finishing the novel, I felt I have lived
one whole lifetime with all the characters yet there stays so much unsaid and
so much to be understood. I could still feel Kambili’s observant eyes tracing
my actions and asking me to be very careful with what I write. The author has
completely lived each scene and experience which is very well exhibited in her
body of work.
I lived each
scene when I read those phrases and everytime I wondered what it would be to
live like Kambili. She is all of 15 but she has so much wisdom, so much clarity
of thought, and so much depth and detail beyond her age. All through my journey
with this book, I wanted to shake her and ask her to cry. Cry because she
should or needed to let all her emotions out and it is no point tugging her
heart so much to shield those emotions away from the light. I wanted to hug her
and say that it is going to be alright. I just wanted a moment with Kambili.
Those observant eyes have so much depth that they meander between right and
wrong. For instance when she says, “Father Amadi led the first decade, and at
the end, he started an Igbo praise song. While they sang, I opened my eyes and
stared at the wall. I pressed my lips together, biting my lower lip, so my
mouth would not join in the singing on its own, so my mouth would not betray” It was shocking to read how the power and
control of mere 15 year old on her tongue and her freedom to express were
snatched away. Kambili’s eyes! Even though they failed to understand few things
because she was in the cusp of womanhood, at times, she understood most of the
things without uttering a single word.
Jaja –A
character’s name which means throaty laughter in Spanish, gave me an insight of
‘Now’. The power of now. Heaven breaks apart when he refuses to go to
communion, a usual ritual at home, bringing his father’s blood to boil in fury.
Even though there were so many unpleasant things back at home, he enjoyed being
out there in the frontyard of Aunty Ifeoma’s house asking questions about
Hibiscuses. He was out there with Obiora with those buckets of water, and when
the time came he remarked that he did not do so much like Obiora who acted like
a man and held the roof above his house in the absence of Obiora’s father. And
when Jaja covered up for his mother and stood for her when the authorities came,
it could be felt that how much Jaja thought about his family. His words hit the nail when he asks after the
demise of his father – Why didn’t the god protect his faithful servant? Jaja, a
caring brother, a loving son and a man of the house and without whom, this
piece would have been less important and the purple hibiscus would have lost
its person. That Purple Hibiscus means freedom in connection with Jaja.
Tensions rise in
the Achike house throughout the day, and the political instability as Nigeria
falls under the military coup, go on like tidal waves, but Kambili, through her
narration, tells a tale of hope and exhibits that this too shall pass and we
need to move to the brighter side of the world when time calls. Aunty Ifeoma’s
house, the visuals surrounding the vicinity of her house, the peace that her
house exuded definitely will make one cry out with joy. Only because as the
story unfurls, you would have shed huge amounts of tears and felt for Kambili
and Jaja, and because you want them to have their own taste of freedom which
has been monitored and circumscribed by high walls and frangipani trees of her
family compound.
The book opens
with the events on Palm Sunday, time travelling to past and final chapter
leading to present. The political unrest in Nigeria is clearly visible and the
author brings it to life, all in front of the reader. The unrest in Kambili’s
family in terms of Igbo rituals and rigid catholic thoughts continues as the
story unfolds.
Read
if you think it is going to be depressing. Read if you think it is dark
fiction. Read for those very reasons because this is not like any other dark
stories that leave you staring at the wall looking for a gleam of light but it
is unlike those all stories put together. It is far from dark and brooding
unlike those stories. Unlike I say because it sparks hope even in those moments
of angst and depressive circumstances, the hope which lurks even in the darkest
corners. And that hope balances out everything.
I could feel
hope when Jaja shifted the desk to be in front of his door in order to keep his
father out of his way. I could feel hope when Kambili did not move but held the
painting of her late grandfather Papa Nnukwu when a monster disguised as her
father kept hitting and bashing her wildly. I could feel it in those moments
when Kambili’s father in his usual beastian way almost broke the figurines and
how her mom collected all those precious pieces after the fallout. I could feel
hope in Aunty Ifeoma’s house even if there was no fuel in her vehicle, no
electric supply, only okpa soup to eat for breakfast. I could feel hope when Father
Amadi tells Kambili that she has long legs and she should run. So much of hope lingers
even after the taste of oppression beats the energy out of you. Even in the
tension and turmoil, a soft feather of unexplained love caresses Kambili and
Father Amadi making the former reach out to taste the desire of teen age as
well as that of womanhood. Though this soft caress appears in every alternate
page in the middle of the novel and keeps the curious reader wanting more of
it, the author did not give it a cliffhanger ending but weaves the tale of hearts
thoughtfully.
Purple Hibiscus
if put in musical sense, it plays Raag Hindol which is a midnight Raag. When
you listen to Hindol, it mirrors the state of our mind when we ponder about so
many thoughts at the dark of the night, thinking deeply into some of
the matters unsaid or unexpressed and suddenly the yawning night reaches out to
its crib with a new day waking up to the ray of sunshine or a ray of hope to
make you believe that some matters might take their own time to settle and
resolve. Such is the effect that this book will produce in your heart. You will
find Hindol caressing the pages of this book when you read.
I really loved
it for a reason that the story doesn’t unfold with multiple voices but honestly stuck to Kambili's voice along with the
shifting perspectives between two households which are distinct from one
another. Adichie knows the craft of
writing extremely well. Would Highly recommend. This book will surely make one
experiment more African writings.
My Rating *****
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