Purple Hibiscus by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie has been my all-time favourite book. I first read it in 2015. Years later, in August 2021, I felt the urge to read it again. I was as hooked as the first time, but for different reasons. It made me nostalgic and showed me how much I evolved in the last few years. My love for the book remains, but I didn’t feel the naive, child-like admiration I did the first time for my favourite characters. This time, I was a cynical adult observing my counterparts navigating this patriarchal world.
Before I elaborate on this book experience, I would like to share the story of how I met Adichie. So stay with me, will you? :)
Also, today is Adichie’s 44th birthday, making this post special.
Adichie and I:
Adichie was the first African author I read after my professor introduced her Ted Talk, The danger of a single story, which left a huge impression on my 21-year-old university student self. I was at that point in life when I was unlearning many things. As a woman born and raised in an urban Indian city, I could relate to many aspects of Adichie’s feminist perspective.
Also, I have great respect for people who are capable of expressing their worldview through art and with conviction. Adichie is one of those people. An incredible storyteller whose work centres around gender, race and Nigerian (by extension, African) history. Most recently, her essays on grief following the death of her parents were deeply moving. Her first book Purple Hibiscus has that same quality. It is touching, thought provoking and offers a peek into life in Lagos, Nigeria. The book also triggered my interest, back then, to visit Lagos but the trip still remains unticked on my bucket list. Someday, someday!
Purple Hibiscus: A remarkable story
The book is set in postcolonial Nigeria, that is going through political and economic turmoil. Kambili Achike is a 15-year-old, quiet, observant child and also the storyteller, whose father strictly guides and governs her life. Kambili is oblivious to anything that happens outside of the high walls of their wealthy mansion, as her father Eugene Achike, an extremely violent patriarch hiding behind the facade of a devout Catholic rules the house. In the name of god and religion, he abuses his wife, who undergoes two miscarriages. He abuses his children too, just differently. His is a man of great stature, offering money for charities, supporting homes, a noble man for the world outside. At home, he is an insecure, narcissitic patriarch living off his family’s kindness and fear.
Breaking this monotony, things begin to feel new and somewhat empowering for Kambili and her brother Jaja when they go to spend their holidays with their aunty Ifeoma’s family. The warm and spirited family ambience shocks Kambili in the beginning, but she eventually gets accustomed to the freedom and the choice of expression that she learns she has buried deep inside her. Kambili also discovers her sexuality when she falls in love with a young priest, Father Amadi.
It is undoubtedly a beautiful story told through characters who you will fall in love with. However, some parts of the book are problematic. They are a reflection of our reality, and thus are difficult for me to accept.
For instance, 15-year Kambili falls in love with Father Amadi. It is natural for a young girl to develop feelings for a good-looking man, a priest at that, who cares for her. In my idealistic projection of the world, I expected Father Amadi to be a hero, a noble human, who wouldn’t lead Kambili on knowing that the kid is crushing on him. But that’s just me!
I also felt very uncomfortable with events in Kambili’s house. I think anyone would. Her narcissistic father hiding behind religion and exercising control over their existence was a hard pill to swallow. Unfortunately, it is common, happens in a many, subtler ways, but it exists.
I could relate to a lot of aspects of the novel. A couple I can think of now are:
My convent education and upper-caste upbringing dismissing other forms of worship or other concepts of god, was similar to Kambili’s father abandoning his own dad because he refused to convert into a catholic. Patriarchy pooping on anything that doesn’t work as per its rules, and rules that change as per any random man’s moods. Or when Eugene Achike believes that it is alright to beat his wife’s pregnancy to death when she simply expresses a need to rest.
The best part of this endearing story is when Kambili and Jaja begin to discover themselves, their voices and they give themselves permission to feel, as they spend more and more time with Aunty Ifeoma’s family. My heart feels full every time I think of moments in the small, cramped apartment in the University of Nsukka’s staff quarters where Aunty and her family lived. Aunty Ifeoma’s character, Chimamanda Adichi mentioned, was inspired by her own aunt — a bold, energetic, beautiful woman she looked up to. Aunty Ifeoma is a party, speaking her mind, stating things as they are but full of love and care for people around her. Her children, Amaka, Obiora and Chima are like her, a bundle of sass, brains, love, and laughter. It is in their presence that Kambili and Jaja begin to smile freely, a rare expression of emotion for them. In one instance, Kambili laughs as a reaction to something Amaka says and she is surprised.
Her thoughts are: “I laughed. It sounded strange as if I were listening to the recorded laughter of a stranger being played back. I was not sure I ever heard myself laugh.” Another time, her brother Jaja on hearing that they will be spending time with their aunty smiles wholeheartedly and Kambili goes: “Jaja smiled so widely I did not even know he had.”
These are examples that showcase the level of subordination and submissiveness her father Eugene demanded of his family. Hard to digest.
Adichie’s storytelling is remarkable, I needn’t really mention this, but when I was re-reading this book I fell in love with her writing all over again. I may be so smitten by her, biased too, because storytellers such as her are rare. Metaphors are her thing and since Purple Hibiscus is her first novel, you will find them much more prominently present than her other books.
I am glad I revisited Purple Hibiscus, but I must credit Adichie for the beautiful story that captured my attention for the 2nd time.
Wish you a happy 44th birthday lady, while I wait for your next story. :)
