The Way Religion Bleeds into Parenting

Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie's Purple Hibiscus puts two siblings in contrast; one uses religion to oppress his children, the other uses it to empower hers

I have no children myself. No surprise there. So it’s quite accurate to say that I know nothing about parenthood. That said, as someone who was and is the subject of parenting, I think I can at least tell when the parenting isn’t very good. And that is what stood out to me most about Kambili's father, Eugene.

A little more about Purple Hibiscus

Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie's first novel, Purple Hibiscus, is set in postcolonial Nigeria. The story is told in first person from the perspective of fifteen-year-old Kambili. In the beginning, her and her older brother, Jaja, seem to have a perfect life; their wealthy father owns a newspaper and multiple factories, they live on a beautiful estate, their driver sends them to school everyday. However, we quickly realise that some things are amiss. Although he's generous and respected, Eugene is also "fanatically religious" and uses it as a justification for his tyrannical rule over his family.

NOTE: The following sections contain spoilers.

How religious beliefs led to abuse

As a result of his religious beliefs, Eugene imposes strict rules onto his wife and children. For instance, they must spend 20 minutes on long-winded prayers before meals and Kambili isn't allowed to wear trousers (it's ungodly for a woman to wear men's clothing). Eugene also condemns his own "heathen" father, Papa-Nnukwu, for choosing to follow traditional Igbo rituals. Although Eugene owns a house large enough to fit the whole village, his father remains in a run down hut and can barely afford to eat. There is this quote by Eugene's sister, Aunty Ifeoma, that struck me:

“Eugene has to stop doing God’s job. God is big enough to do his own job. If God will judge our father for choosing to follow the way of our ancestors, then let God do the judging, not Eugene.”

Eugene's way of treating his own father reminded me of the story of Prophet Muhammad s.a.w's beloved uncle, Abu Talib. Although Abu Talib hadn't converted to Islam, he still protected the prophet during his years of preaching. To me, Aunty Ifeoma's quote felt like a reminder that we have no business treating others poorly just because of a difference in beliefs.

As a practicing Muslim, I want to empathise with Eugene's devotion to his religion. But I'm not sure I can, not when he uses it to justify the terrible violence he inflicts on his own family. As punishment for not telling him that she had stayed in the same apartment as Papa-Nnukwu, Eugene pours boiling water on Kambili's feet. When he discovers that Kambili has a painting of Papa-Nnukwu, he kicks and whips her until she had to be hospitalised.

That said, Eugene is a character full of contradictions, which sometimes make it hard to label him as the enemy. He frequently tells his children that he does things out of love, to protect them from sin. In fact, Kambili herself never explicitly condemns Eugene either, a reflection of her conflicting emotions about her father. Despite the abuse, she still wants her father's love and praise.

While it’s easy to be annoyed with Kambili, Jaja and their mother for not fighting back, or at least holding their ground, Adichie writes in a way that allows you to sympathise with the complexities of their situation. The children love their father. In their eyes, he's a good man who's generous and admired by many within their village and even internationally. He feeds the whole village, pays tuition for more than a hundred poor students and even has awards from Amnesty World (Amnesty International's fictional counterpart?). Yes, he is quite strict. But if that's all they'd known growing up, how would they be able to tell what's normal and what isn’t?

Aunty Ifeoma and her "university talk"

With all the drama in their household, it's refreshing to read about Kambili and Jaja's stay with their aunt and cousins. Aunty Ifeoma is a professor at the University of Nigeria. She is Catholic, like her brother, but is open-minded and unafraid to speak her mind. She expects the same from her own children, letting them debate about ideas and politics from a young age. As Kambili notes, Aunty Ifeoma's parenting style is:

“...setting higher and higher jumps for them in the way she talked to them, in what she expected of them. She did it all the time believing they would scale the rod. And they did.”

When put in contrast with Eugene's dictatorial parenting, it's clear that Ifeoma's style is much healthier. I think it's important as well to note that Aunty Ifeoma is quite religious herself. Her and her children go to mass, they pray before meals and they say the rosary every night before bed. Clearly, the problem here is not religion. It is Eugene.

NOTE: End of spoilers.

Overall, Purple Hibiscus provides an intimate look at Kambili's life as she discovers and fights for her freedom. The novel starts with a girl who is clearly behind her peers, not in her studies, but in her experience of life. She didn't have friends, never listened to music, hardly ever laughed or smiled. By the end of the novel, it's equally tragic and inspiring to see how much changes and yet, stays the same.