Politics of truths and Adichie’s Half Of A Yellow Sun

And, of course, others have pointed out to the flaws in Half Of A Yellow Sun with regards to the presentation of facts and the stand from which the story is told. According to my sister, Adichie has a responsibility to the world, of telling a rounded story; how things actually happened, not how she […]

And, of course, others have pointed out to the flaws in Half Of A Yellow Sun with regards to the presentation of facts and the stand from which the story is told. According to my sister, Adichie has a responsibility to the world, of telling a rounded story; how things actually happened, not how she sees them, or how they happened from her own little corner of the whole scheme of things. This more so because she, after the success of her first book, commands a great international platform. So it is a crime to say to the world, “This is how the Biafran war happened from where I stand.”  (Personally I find that debatable. I think every writer is entitled to– in fact, commands– a certain selfishness). And now I am reading E.E Sule’s article titled “Literary voices alike: Maiwada, Ogezi and Okenyodo” in the weekly trust of September 4th, 2010 — and he describes Adichie as coming to fiction in Half Of A Yellow Sun  with an ethnic agenda and describes the book as being over praised and hardly scrutinised and bigoted.
Truth to tell, at the end of the reading of the book, I found myself being ashamed of being a northerner. Note: a northerner not a Nigerian. Such is the way that Adichie paints the picture of things that the war feels more like an Igbo versus North affair, than an Igbo versus Nigeria thing. I had this urge to tender an apology to the Igbos on behalf of northerners and found myself thinking of all my Igbo coursemates from my university days (Ngozi, especially you), wishing I had known them better, enough to know how the war might have impacted on their families down the line. That is, until my sister pointed out, “Ai, idan bera da sata to daddawa ma da wari.” That is, it takes two to tango. The war couldn’t have been all about northern crimes. Someone must have done something to make the northerners act like they did. And yes, she too, like E.E Sule, cited Isidore Okpwho and Festus Iyayi as examples of a true Nigerian telling of the war.
For me the celebratory thing about Half Of A Yellow is not so much the contents as the method of delivery: The telling, that wonderful method of narration that prompted Achebe to describe Adichie as having the gift of ancient storytelling. Of course, there is all the argument about Nigerian  writers abroad having access to facilities that enable them to sharpen and improve their writing in ways that home based writers are hardly opportune to do. But I have read Habila’s Measuring Time, and it did not have the same effect on me. The words did not leap off the pages; they did not cut through with the precision of the surgeon’s knife. And while I respect Iyayi’s Heroes, I own that for me, the writing pales besides Adichie’s. I have a sneaking suspicion that had the narration been any less than it is, Half Of A Yellow Sun might not have created the furore that it has. It is in the way that the story is told that the reader (certainly, myself) is stirred to react.
When the Hausa traders killed Arize, I did not think, “Why did they kill this Igbo woman?” What I felt was, “How could they have killed such a wonderful, lively, vivacious person?” And when Olanna told of the woman with the head of her daughter in a calabash, I saw first, not an Igbo woman with the head of an Igbo girl, but a woman, a mother, with the head of a girl, her daughter, in a calabash. And yes, when Kainene remained missing at the end of the book, I thought of my sister going missing in that fashion.
I think despite what E.E. Sule calls her “politics of truth”, and her “urge” and “urgency” to “‘tell my own  story’”(or perhaps because of that), Adichie has at least succeeded in starting a new debate on the Nigerian civil war ( it’s being a while since Okpewho and Iyayi). Suddenly, people want to verify, did it really happen that way? And suddenly you have writers like Ahmed Maiwada saying there is also another way that it happened, from the Northern angle. (Just the image of Ojukwu as “Dan Mama” which sort of translates as “bomboy”, is enough to strip the man of some of the charisma, and enigma associated with him). And, who knows, perhaps by the time everyone has told their own story (never mind that E.E Sule is sceptical as to who will tell the story of the minorities), by the time everyone has narrated how it happened in their own little corner, we will have a better understanding of each other, and an overall clearer view of how things ended up how they now are.
And Habibah, no, this is not taking a diplomatic stand, nor is it sitting on a fence on this side of the north.

Safeena Garba

Safeena