Beyond the odds of the red hibiscus: a critical reading of Chimamanda Adichie's Purple Hibiscus

But my memories did not start at Nsukka. They started before, when all the hibiscuses in our front yard were startling red. (Purple Hibiscus, 16) Introduction Charles Nnolim (2005) (1) explains critically that the third generation of writers in Nigeria (which includes Adichie) exhibits a literary jungle- rich with varieties of life and growth, awe-inspiring and full of breath-taking surprises... (8). This is not far from description of Adichie's Purple Hibiscus. Adichie presents series of fictional surprises as she consciously romances between history and art. The need to expose the traumatic situation in Africa has often occupied the minds of modern day writers in Africa. Helon Habila's Waiting for An Angel and Okey Ndibe's Arrows of Rain represent another critical faction examining the same odds as Adichie did. The protest voices are raised in Africa against bad governance in different forms but the realities become much more biting and the writers adjust their 'pens' to accommodate the excesses. Having told this tale in various forms, the need to get truly out of these 'scenes' and tell true tale of the true situation prompted the emergence of Kambili. She is new voice crying out to be heard because of the torture and anguish in the impediments of governance and civilization around her. One needs to observe, surprisingly though, how this naive character reveals in somewhat innocent 'silence', the painful realities in her society. The use of the growing character technique enables Adichie to achieve historical exposition of the trauma in African society. One observes with keenness, the narrative stance of the dumb character that exposes several military oddities with the eyes of an innocent observer. One observes this clearly when Kambili asserts: I lay in bed after mama left and let my mind rake through the past, through the years when Jaja and mama and I spoke more with our spirits than with our lips ... Jaja's defiance seemed to me now like Aunty Ifeoma's experimental purple hibiscus: rare, fragrant with the undertones of freedom, different kind of freedom from the one crowd the crowds waving green leaves chanted ... A freedom to be, to do. (Purple Hibiscus, 16) The need for African people to experience true freedom becomes Kambili's preoccupation. This reveals the expected thoughts of the people about the way forward in their political trauma. While this narration flows from child who is battling with religious and domestic problems in her home, one still observes the sincere reference to the macro oddities in the society. This novel tries to question rigidity in religion and wrong upbringing of children in modern world that should allow room for dynamism and freedom. Motif of Freedom in the Novel Kambili uses the draconic ruling pattern of his father, Chief Eugene Achike, to reveal the problems in the entire society. Rushdie (1991) sees this type of people (Kambili's father) as translated men who get things mixed up because of obstinacy and the translation of values (17). 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 means of creating discord in their families. This also serves as an attack on those leaders in Africa who allow religious sentiments to create problems in the country. The religious riots in the northern part of Nigeria and the neglect of African values and culture are attacked. This dichotomy also affects the general lives of the people even within close-knitted families. Kambili explains thus about her grandfather on close encounter: I had examined him that day, too, looking away when his eyes met mine, for signs of indifference, of Godlessness. I didn't see any, but I was sure they were there somewhere. They had to be. (63) The child in Kambili questions the unnecessary prohibitions from her father which deprives them of the love and knowledge they would have acquired from the sage. …