There are books and then
there are books which grab you by the scruff of the neck and keep you hooked
till you have journeyed from cover to cover. Reading ’ Half of a yellow sun’ by Chimamanda
Ngozi Adichie was like sparring with a snub nosed super heavyweight; the
prose is hard-hitting and keeps you ducking and weaving with the poignant
questions it raises on subjects as diverse as race, class and human conflict.
Her writing transports you into the early years of a newborn state, still
grappling with a transitory phase from a colonial past to an uncertain future
as the change of guard happens in a newly liberated Nigeria. The language,
earthy and direct, brings out the ancient prejudices and contempt that the
erstwhile white ruling elite retained for the blacks. The book traces the lives
of diverse characters against the backdrop of the ethnic conflict shortly after
Nigeria was liberated and the subsequent move for the breakaway state of
Biafra. This secessionist move still evokes strong emotions in modern day
Nigeria and you feel the stillborn nation’s shadow hanging heavy over the plot.
The prose is simple yet
lyrical and begins with little Ugwu making his way from an obscure village to
work as a houseboy for the young firebrand Mathematics professor Odenigbo, a
product of the Western educated intellectual elite and a strident advocate of
African nationalism. One experiences the discordant notes through Ugwu’s eyes
as ancient tribal identities try and make peace with an urbanizing Africa,
forever changed by the legacy of the empire. You sense the author’s masterful
grasp of human relationships as she presents a contrast between the twin
sisters Olanna, Odenigbo’s beautiful lover with a heart of gold and the cold
and headstrong Kainene who is different from her twin sister in every way.
Daughters of one of Nigeria’s wealthy aristocrats, the conflicting
personalities of the twins - one affectionate and optimistic about the young
nation’s future while the other aloof and viscerally cynical of the motives of
the avaricious and ham handed kleptocrats who only seek to perpetuate
exploitation – present a vivid commentary of the dilemma of the young state.
The cast of characters is rounded off by Richard, the dreamy British expat who
is equally enamored by Kainenene and Nigeria’s tribal heritage and harbors a
fanciful if touching idea of writing a book on the ancient pottery art of
Nigeria.
The characters are thrown
into a maelstrom of both interpersonal and physical conflicts as interracial
strife threatens to tear the country apart. You love the author’s nuanced
treatment of how the characters’ lives intersect; the uneasy ferment resulting
from ancient beliefs colliding with western ideas, hurling the protagonists
headlong into conflict. Perhaps the most revealing aspect of this book is the
depiction of the naked brutality of the Biafran conflict, where starvation –
which would become a weapon of choice with African warlords – was used with
lethal efficacy to cow the secessionists into submission.
Half of a yellow sun, the
emblem of the stillborn Biafran nation, stands as a parable of a people who
dreamt of an abode where they could be free. One gets the feeling that the
yearning stemmed more from the rebellious air that the postcolonial era was
redolent with as opposed to a well articulated need for self-determination. As
is the case with most such utopian ambitions, the disillusioning end stood as a
stark anticlimax to the initial heady emotions. The lyrical quality of the
prose however makes you a believer and a convert and leaves you wistful as only
such heretical fables can.
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