| by Laksiri Fernando
(
November 15, 2012, Sydney, Sri Lanka Guardian) One of the penetrating novels
that I have ever read was Chinua Achebe’s Things
Fall Apart. When I read it for the first time, sometime back, Okonkwo’s
character reminded me of Silidu in Leonard Wolf’s Village in the Jungle. But today Okonkwo reminds me somebody else. It
would not be so difficult for you to guess. The tragedy of Okonkwo and Silidu
was determined by the conditions of colonial transition in two societies,
Nigeria and Sri Lanka, then Ceylon. But today, it can be of post-colonial
transformation, painfully in the context of conflicts between communities and
with the ‘international community’ in any country, let alone Sri Lanka.
 |
| Chinua Achebe. Photograph: Eamonn McCabe/The Guardian |
Both
Okonkwo and Silidu walked in the ‘war path’ of aiming what they perceived as ‘correct’
by unleashing violence against the supposed perpetrators or enemies. They both
ended up unfortunately in immense tragedy. I am not going to compare the two
novels or the two characters, but wish to highlight some of the interesting
experiences or episodes of the former and that is of Things Fall Apart for pleasure or possible wisdom.
One
reason to write this ‘roundabout story’ is what is now happening in Sri Lanka
and what happened recently in particularly Libya and other Arab countries. Also
look at what is happening in Syria, as I write or you read this. Just because
somebody or a clique wants to hold on to power, disregarding all norms of
civility, the whole society is suffering.
Background
The
background to the story proper is the conflict between the ‘white man’ and his
Christian mission, on the one hand, and the traditional tribal society in
Nigeria and its beliefs and customs, on the other hand. The author, Chinua
Achebe was born in 1930 and during his time, and that is post 1930s, the
conflict was still going on. Achebe furthermore was privy to the events and
stories of the previous generations when the conflict was more intense. The setting of the story perhaps goes back to
the end of the nineteenth century (although not mentioned) with the initial
arrival of the ‘white man’ and missionaries in Nigeria.
The
story portrays the traditional tribal society of the Ibo community with nuanced
variations from one village to the other. From the prism of the twenty first
century, it is a society of strengths and weaknesses and also admirable and
abominable customs. The story centres on Okonkwo, who was the main character.
“Unoka, for that was his father’s name, had died ten years ago. In his day he
was lazy and improvident and was quite incapable of thinking about tomorrow.” I
am quoting from Achebe with double quotation marks for you to identify.
Okonkwo
was different. “Okonkwo ruled his household with a heavy hand. His wives,
especially the youngest, lived in perpetual fear of his fiery temper, and so
did his little children. Perhaps down in his heart Okonkwo was not a cruel man.
But his whole life was dominated by fear, the fear of failure and of weakness.”
He
was reacting to his father perhaps, to be strong and authoritarian. That was
also the ethos of the tribal society. “That was many years ago, twenty years or
more, and during this time Okonkwo’s fame had grown like a bush fire.” Tribal
societies are closely knit societies. The ‘centre holds.’ Authority, tradition
and brutal punishments against violations of tradition are the things that presumably
hold the society together. It is full of myths and mysticism. They believed in
the Oracle pronounced by a witch type woman called Agbala. She is a priestess. Everyone had a Chi and that is a personal god. If Chi is favourable, you are well off or otherwise you are doomed. In
ancient village Sri Lanka it was different. According to the Sinhala
Tele-drama, Arundathi, there is a chi – but that is for the whole village
of Hathveliya.
They
had some sort of democracy. Most of the decisions concerning the village were
taken by the elders or the kindred meeting. However, only men were allowed in
that, like in ancient Greece or until recently of ‘modern democracy.’ All other
family decisions were taken by the head of the family or the man. Okonkwo had
three wives. They lived in separate huts with respective children in Okonkwo’s
compound. Okonkwo had his Obi. That
was a large living quarter. The set up was very much similar to what the
Vedda’s or the indigenous people had in Sri Lanka until recently.
Breach of Peace
Once,
“Okonkwo was provoked to justifiable anger by his youngest wife, who went to
plait her hair at her friend’s house and did not return early enough to cook
the afternoon meal.” This is like a modern day quarrel in an ‘old fashioned’
marriage in the Sri Lankan or the Indian society. The tradition was each wife
to cook a plate for the husband and bring one by one to his Obi.
“Where
is Ojiugo?” he asked the second wife.
“She
has gone to plait her hair.”
“Where
are her children? Did she taken them?” he asked them with unusual coolness and
restraint. It was the Week of Peace.
“They
are here,” answered his first wife.
“Did
she ask you to feed them before she went?”
“Yes,”
lied the first wife trying to minimize Ojiugo’s thoughtlessness.
“Okonkwo
knew she was not speaking the truth.” “And when she returned he beat her very
heavily. In his anger he had forgotten that it was the Week of Peace.” This was
not appreciated in the community. “Okonkwo’s neighbours heard his wife crying
and sent their voices over the compound walls to ask what was the matter. Some
of them came over to see for themselves. It was unheard-of to beat somebody
during the sacred week.”
Okonkwo
committed a great evil in the eyes of the tradition. The priest of the earth
goddess, Ani, called on Okonkwo’s Obi. He declared: “Your wife was at fault,
but even if you came into your Obi and found her lover on top of her, you would
still have committed a great evil to beat her.” “You know as well as I do that
our forefathers ordained that before we plant any crop in the earth we should
observe a week in which a man does not say any harsh word to his neighbour. We
live in peace with our fellows to honour our great goddess of the earth without
whose blessings our crops will not grow.” Okonkwo was punished.
Killing ‘the Son’
That
was not the downfall of Okonkwo. That was the beginning. Okonkwo was too
authoritarian. That was not necessary, warranted or permitted by the tradition.
Okonkwo had a sort of an adopted son, Ikemefuna. He was brought to the village
as a payment from another village in settlement of a dispute. That was some
time ago. Now he was part of the family and Okonkwo liked him.
However,
after the appearance of Locusts on the village, which was considered a bad
omen, the elders decided to kill the boy. It was permitted as he was an
outsider or a son of another village. The Oracle of the Hills and Caves had
pronounced it. When Ogbuefi Ezeudu, the oldest man in the village came to know
about it he came to Okonkwo and said “That boy calls you father. Do not bear
hand in his death.”
“They
will take him outside Umuofia as is the custom, and kill him there. But I want
you to have nothing to do with it. He calls you his father” he repeated. Okonkwo
did not heed the advice. He wanted to avoid the feeling of weakness or failure.
That was the moral degeneration of Okonkwo. When his own son, Nwoye, came to
realize that his father had killed his ‘brother,’ he was disdainful of him.
Okonkwo was not the only one who was responsible for the ‘things falling
apart.’ But according to Achebe’s story he was symbolic.
‘White Man’ and the Iron Horse
First
the white man had appeared in Abame. The story was something like the
following. “During the last planting season a white man had appeared in their
clan.” “An albino,” suggested Okonkwo.
“He
was not an albino. He was quite different. He was riding an iron horse. The
first people who saw him ran away, but he stood beckoning to them. In the end
the fearless ones went near and even touched him. The elders consulted their
Oracle and it told them that the strange man would break their clan and spread
destruction among them….And so they killed him.”
“What
did the white man say before they killed him?” asked Uchendu. “He said
nothing,” answered one of Obierika’s companions.
There
was a long silence. Uchendu ground his teeth together audibly. Then he burst
out: “Never kill a man who says nothing. Those men of Abame were fools. What
did they know about the man?” He ground his teeth again and told a story to
illustrate his point.
“Mother
Kite once sent her daughter to bring food. She went, and brought back a
duckling. ‘You have done very well,’ said Mother Kite to her daughter, ‘but
tell me, what did the mother of this duckling say when you swooped and carried
its child away.’ ‘It said nothing’ replied the young kite. ‘It just walked
away.’ ‘You must return the duckling,’ said Mother Kite. ‘There is something
ominous behind the silence.’
And
so Daughter Kite returned the duckling and took a chick instead. ‘What did the
mother of this chick do?’ asked the Old Kite.’ It cried and raved and cursed
me,’ said the young kite. ‘Then we can eat the chick,’ said her mother. ‘There
is nothing to fear from someone who shouts.’ Those men of Abame were fools.”
The Dialogue
Achebe’s
story went on and on and on. The missionaries came and built a Church right in
the middle of Okonkwo’s village, Umuofia. The first priest was one Mr Brown who
was a spiritual man. He had good relations with the clan and its elders. He
tried to convince the villagers that his religion was correct and superior to
the religion of the clan. But villagers also had their own arguments.
“You
say that there is one supreme God who made heaven and earth,” said Akunna during
one of Mr Brown’s visits. “We also believe in Him and call him Chukwu. He made
all the world and the other gods.” “There are no other gods,” said Mr Brown.
“Chukwu is the only God and all others are false. You carve a piece of wood –
like that one” (he pointed at), “and you call it a god. But it is still a piece
of wood.”
“Yes,”
said Akunna. “It is indeed a piece of wood. The tree from which it came was
made by Chukwu, as indeed all minor gods were. But he made them for his
messengers so that we could approach Him through them. It is like yourself. You
are the head of your church.”
“No,”
protested Mr Brown. “The head of my church is God himself.”
“I
know,” said Akunna. “But there must be a head in this world among men. Somebody
like yourself must be the head here.” “The head of my church in that sense is
in England.”
“That
is exactly what I am saying.” Akunna argued.
In
this way there was a dialogue between the two sides and a growing understanding.
Thereafter came a change. Mr Brown was replaced by Mr Smith. He condemned
openly Mr Brown’s policy of compromise and accommodation. He virtually saw
things as ‘black and white’ so to say.
Final Confrontation
The
conflict became intense. The most violent men in the village, Okonkwo being the
head among them, in the form of ancestral spirits, Egwugwu, went against the Church and destroyed it. They also
destroyed the houses of the converted Christians. By that time the ‘White
Administration’ also had come to the area. The District Commissioner sent his
messengers to ask the elders of the village to meet him. When they went to see
him they were cunningly arrested. The Commissioner announced the following.
“We
have brought a peaceful administration to you and your people so that you may
be happy. If any man ill-treats you we shall come to your rescue. But we will
not allow you to ill-treat others. We have a court of law where we judge cases
and administer justice as it is done in my own country under a Great Queen. I
have brought you here because you have joined together to molest others, to
burn people’s houses and their places of worship.”
The
sermon went on and on. And thereafter, all the heads of the elders were shaved.
“They were not given any water to drink, and they could not go out to urinate
or go into the bush when they were pressed. …At night the messengers came in to
taunt them and to knock their shaven heads together.”
As
Achebe said, they were simply humiliated. The whole village was punished and
only after the villagers paid a huge fine, that the elders were released from
custody. A few days later, almost the whole village, of course except those who
were converted to the Church or the colonial administration, gathered to decide
what to do.
There
were ‘soft liners,’ ‘hard liners’ and very few ‘middle ground’ people and so
on. They were arguing and discussing. At this point there was a sudden stir.
There were messengers. The head messenger declared, “The white man whose powers
you know too well has ordered this meeting to stop.” In a flash Okonkwo drew
his Matchet. The messenger crouched to avoid the blow. It was useless. The
District Commissioner himself came to arrest Okonkwo.
“Which
among you is called Okonkwo?” he asked through his interpreter. “He is not
here,” replied Obierika, one of the close friends of Okonkwo, but a wise and
sober man. “Where is he?” the Commissioner asked. “We can take you where he is,
and perhaps your men will help us.”
The
Commissioner could not understand what Obierika meant by ‘perhaps your men will
help us.’ “One of the infuriating habits of these people was their love of
superfluous words, he thought.” They went into the bush. “Then they came to the
tree from which Okonkwo’s body was dangling, and they stopped dead.”
“Why
can’t you take him down yourselves?” the Commissioner asked. “It is against our
custom,” said one of the men. The Commissioner was puzzled.
The Lessons
Let
me finish the story here and highlight its lessons briefly as I see it. Anyway
Achebe’s story ends with Okonkwo’s tragedy.
‘Things
fell apart’ because of internal and external reasons. All societies have
certain ethics, ethos or customs in both ‘war and peace.’ These moral
principles may be akin by and large to all societies. Most of them are now
called Humanitarian and Human Rights Principles. Okonkwo was one who did not
follow some of these sacred principles for greed of power, wealth or simple
pleasure of authority.
He
beats his wife during the ‘week of peace.’ He killed Ikemefuna who called him
father, for fear of feeling weak or failure. Not only he was responsible, but
the whole society. The people in Abame killed a ‘white man’ when he was silent.
It was against the sacred principles of the tribe. Finally, Okonkwo could not
control his rage and killed the head messenger of the ‘white administration’
and killed himself thereafter in desperation.
Of
course the ‘white man’ also or primarily was responsible for the whole
calamity, whatever the pronounced pretexts again for greed of power, wealth or
simple lust for authority, like what Mr Smith or the Commissioner demonstrated.
But they perhaps followed certain principles although pronounced by themselves
for ulterior motives. As Okonkwo’s wise friend, Obierika, said:
“Now
he has won our brothers, our clan can no longer act like one. He has put a
knife on the things that held us together and we have fallen apart.” Achebe
took the title of the novel from a verse by W. B. Yeats in The Second Coming which says the following:
Turning
and turning in the widening gyre
The
falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things
fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere
anarchy is loosed upon the world.
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