Chinua Achebe's "Things Fall Apart" is an classic novel by an African author. Before I moved to the US, I hadn't really read any books by African authors. Perhaps it's the nostalgia that has sparked my interest in Achebe. That, and the fact that I am a writer myself and I understand the importance of paying homage to those that have paved the way for us.
This book was interesting. A story about a proud man Onkwonkwo who has worked hard to obtain in social standing and wealth. He has many wives and he is a successful breeder of yams. He is proud and has worked hard to earn his success. Things fall apart for him on more than one occassion and that for me is reality. Pride before a fall. Achebe is intense in his discriptions. To be honest, sometimes I don't like the way he uses the language. However I am picky about style. The story flows well. I have a hard time reading about the patriarchy and dumb laws in a primitive African Village. I also have a hard time reading about the moment when the white missionaries came along to convert the natives from their ancestoral ways. Both systems seem very intolerant and full and rules - how can one possibly be right. My personal religion is love and I don't believe in the other stuff because it divides the world more often than not. However, that's just the way it is.
My favorite part is when Onkwonkwo kills himself because he can't bear to see his old way of life falling apart and his people compromising to christianity more and more...
In a nutshell, I'm glad I read the book, and I'm elated that I don't live in a village phew. In a week I will read his other book "Arrow of God". I am looking forward to it.
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2 comments:
I read that a few years ago, and I must say it changed the way I viewed reality as an African… and I began to see it as a matter of faith and no right or wrong, in so many levels I could not identify with the missionary’s belief system.
I think the part that got me thinking and uprooted me from Christianity, was the fact that the disrespect that Christianity showed to the Africans at that time. Where they had a part of the village which was used as a burial site I think, and no one would build on that land as it was evil, and if they did, they would not last a week there. When the missionaries arrived, the villagers decided to give them that part of their land, and believed that in a week, they’d all perish. A week went by, a month, a year, and the white man was still there.
For me, it was not necessarily confirming that the village folks’ faith was wrong, it became clear that, it’s a matter of what you believe in, that is real to you. Because the Africans believed so, and it was a major part of their culture, something would happen if one of them had decided to build a home on that land, but the Christians believed in something total different. I think, more than anything I felt insulted as an African and questioned Christianity more from that day, and eventually bid it goodbye… that book brought to the surface some of the issues I have been battling with, and gave me a sense of belonging.
Hey sis!
Thanks for the thoughtful comment.
I totally agree with your point that each person's beliefs are only valid to him/her. We create our own truth essentially.
Thanks for sharing. Sometimes Africans forget that Christianity was not ours originally. In my community, I find that I am constantly judged for not being a believer simply because it's become the norm to be a Christian.
Thanks to Achebe for reminding us about some of our history...
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