ABSTRACT

This paper looks at decolonisation through the instrument of Postcolonial African fiction. In achieving this, it gives an overview of postcolonial theory in general, linking it to African literature. The paper proceeds to look at cultural and linguistic tools of post-colonialism like abrogation, appropriation, use of untranslated words, hybridity, and affiliation, locating them in African fiction, with relevant examples drawn. All through, the links to education and development are implied but for emphasis, a section is dedicated to giving an overview of this. It is noted that exposure to African fiction, whether in the curriculum, or by general reading, provides a more rounded view of the continent and her peoples beyond a single story. The paper concludes that postcolonial African fiction embodies the several aspects of postcolonial theory and shows readers an indigenous world different from the European or imperial hold. It shows the complexity of Africa and being African, thus creating a knowledge base that is an effective tool for decolonisation.

1. INTRODUCTION

Decolonisation refers to a process of undoing colonialism, dismantling the superiority of a former coloniser and its domination over former colonies. It is a multifaceted process that tackles imperial ideologies in/about formerly colonised societies. It rejects hegemony and tackles the superiority complex of the coloniser while working to reduce inferiority complex of the formerly colonised (Ashcroft, Griffiths and Tiffin, 2000). In research, it has to do with listening to the view of the ‘other’ about themselves (Smith, 1999). In other words, it gives room for indigenous expression and alternative narratives. While decolonisation has economic, political, and other facets, this paper shall focus on its cultural aspect using the novel genre.

This paper looks at decolonisation using postcolonial Nigerian fiction with references drawn from Chinua Achebe’s Anthill of the Savannah and other contemporary selected novels. It is my view that a key education for people trying to decolonise their mind is to understand the crisis of consciousness that have been fostered on their world through the colonial production of knowledge.This can be done through literature, which gives a rounded view of a people beyond a ‘single story.’ The implication is that literature is a strong educational tool of decolonisation that can liberate a people, tell their stories and at the same time, highlight their beauty and/or reality.

The focus of this paper is fiction, with emphasis on the novel. The African novel is a key critic of the colonial portrayal of Africa and grew, in part, “from a history of active resistance to the colonial encounter; crossing boundaries and assaulting walls imposed by history upon the horizon of the continent whose aspirations it has been striving to articulate” (Kehinde, 2000, p.1). In this regard, fiction becomes a site of knowledge production, which when encountered deliberately in the curriculum or through any other form of reading, enhances the postcolonial discourse, promotes indigenous knowledge and actively counters colonisation and other forms of imperialism

This work is organised into eight sections. The first section lays a background to the discourse while the second shows the methodology. In the third section, I attempt a definition of postcolonial theory and discuss its connection with African literature. I then proceed to present an overview of language and culture. The fifth section focuses on locating postcolonial tools in Nigerianfiction, with excerpts drawn from selected novels. The next section looks at the implication for education and development. The concluding section summarises the central arguments in this paper and draws some important conclusions from the same. The paper concludes that the Nigerian novel is an effective tool for colonial deconstruction and a viable vehicle for the production of knowledge.

2. DEFINING POSTCOLONIAL THEORY AND LINKING AFRICAN FICTION

Postcolonial theory or post-colonialism is a broad theory that applies to history, political science, sociology, literature, and other similar fields. There is presently no one definition of post-colonialism and its definition is a great topic of debate among its scholars. The question arises of why it should be named so when the theory itself emanated as a form of celebration of ‘something’ different from the European stereotype theories and as a fight against colonialism (McClintock, 1992). The term also connotes the end of colonialism as a process while most of the countries are dependent on their former colonial masters through neo-colonialism despite being technically independent (Brians, 2016). According to Ashcroft, Griffiths and Tiffin (2000, p187), the simpler sense of ‘post’ as ‘after’ colonialism “has been contested by a more elaborate understanding of the working of postcolonial cultures which stresses the articulations between and across the politically defined historical periods of pre-colonial, colonial and post-independence cultures.” The debate as to what the right term for ‘post-colonialism’ should be and entail continues, with several writers offering their differing views (McClintock, 1992; Brians, 2016).

Postcolonial theory traces its origins to the negritude movement and early thinkers like Aime Césaire, Leopold Senghor and Jean-Paul Sartre. The theory is more linked to works like Aime Césaire’s Discourse on Colonialism (1950); Frantz Fanon’s Black Skin, White Masks (1952) and The Wretched of the Earth (1961). In his works, Fanon called on the people to find their voice and struggle to regain their ancestry, which had been cruelly devalued by the colonialists. Other important works in the formation of postcolonial theory include Albert Memmi’s The Colonizer and the Colonised (1965); Kwame Nkrumah’s Conscientalism (1970); and Edward Said’s Orientalism (1978). These works look at cultural resistance; the concept of universalism, which privileges European values and hegemony; issues of the domination or the superiority of the white race above others, amongst others. The theory raises the non-Western and/or indigenous people [termed ‘Other’ or ‘The Rest’] from the status of passive bystanders to active agents (Fanon, 1967, p9; Prasad and Prasad, 2003, p284). However, the term ‘post-colonial[ism]’ as a theory was not employed in these works per se (Ashcroft, Griffiths and Tiffin, 1989). Other important postcolonial theorists such as Homi Bhabha, Gayatri Chakravorty Spivak, Bill Ashcroft; R. Siva Kumar; Dipesh Chakrabarty; Gareth Griffith; and Helen Tiffin, have explored the concept of hybridity, mimicry, ambivalence and the subaltern.

Post-colonialism as a literary theory deals with the works of writers from countries that were formerly colonised. It is a compilation of the writing back of the colonised Empire (Ashcroft, Griffiths and Tiffin, 1989). Bhabha (1994, p.438) notes that “Post-colonial perspectives emerge from the colonial testimony of third world countries and the discourses of “minorities” within the geopolitical divisions of east and west, north and south… They formulate their critical revisions around issues of cultural difference, social authority and political discrimination…”

Post-colonialism questions the idea of hegemonic cultures and celebrates the indigenous in the sense of its own context. Postcolonial writers of fiction have been at the vanguard of reclaiming their heritages and histories. It is important to note that postcolonial theory has a close connection with literature and fiction as most of the core theorists (for example Sartre, Said, Bhabha, Spivak, amongst others) are also literary critics and in some cases, literary writers themselves. They have also used literature as a means to understanding the theory. The link between post-colonialism and literary writing is more prominent on the African continent as modern African writing came about as a result of a challenge to imperial notions that Africa had no pre-colonial history.

The publication of Chinua Achebe’s Things Fall Apart (1958) was a turning point in postcolonial history and world fiction. It challenged the imperial narrative of Africa and heralded a new discourse on the sociology of Africa. The novel showed an Africa with history, traditions and values, a people in an organised society with indigenous ways before the coming of the British. In his Hopes and Impediments (1990, p46), Achebe notes that, he is more than satisfied if his works do nothing more than decolonise the mind of the Africans by teaching them that “their past—with all its imperfections—was not one long night of savagery from which the first Europeans acting on God’s behalf delivered them.” This paved the way for other writers and theorists who have continued to define their identities, on the continent and elsewhere, as unique and different from the imperial centre. Prominent African postcolonial writers include Chinua Achebe, Wole Soyinka, Ben Okri, Flora Nwapa, Ngugi wa Thiong’o, Bessie Head, Buchi Emecheta, Ama Ata Aidoo, Chimamanda Adichie, Helon Habila, and Ayi Kwei Armah.

3. AN OVERVIEW OF CULTURE AND LANGUAGE IN POSTCOLONIAL THEORY

The need for cultural consciousness serves as a nexus that unites all forms of post-colonial writings. These can be understood through such notions as affiliation, hybridity, mimicry and ambivalence, which they use in explaining postcolonial occurrences. The importance of language is fundamental to post-colonial writings and the theory as it “… carries culture, and culture carries particularly through orature and literature, the entire body of values by which we come to perceive our place in the world” (wa Thiong’o, 1986, p.16). Sapir (1929, p69) notes that: “No two languages are ever sufficiently similar to be considered as representing the same social reality. The worlds in which different societies live are distinct worlds, not merely the same world with different labels attached…”

The place of language is vital as a tool for the post-colonial author as it becomes a vehicle through which (s)he snatches the voice of the coloniser, a language imposed on them and transforms it into a personal/communal property. With such importance attached to language, there arises an argument on the language of narration to be employed in African literature. There is the argument about whether to use a local language or to use the imperial language that has a wider audience. Ngugi wa Thiong’o (1986) posits that the use of an imperial language would enrich such a language to the detriment of local languages and thus advocates for the use of native languages in narration. This has a limitation in terms of the number of people who can read or access particular African languages. Achebe (1975) advocates for the use of the imperial language, but a localised version in new literary versions that will help aid understanding and communication to a broader audience, across nations. He argues that the African writer “should aim at fashioning out an English which is at once universal and able to carry out his peculiar experience […] But it will have to be a new English, still in full communion with its ancestral home but altered to suit its new African surroundings” (p61, 62).

In this respect, post-colonial writers make use of such linguistic strategies as the use of untranslated indigenous words, abrogation and appropriation. Abrogation refers to the denial of a set norm or standard (Imperial) language while appropriation refers to a seizure of the language, a remoulding that localises it. In this way, the coloniser’s language is made local either through the “denial of the privilege of ‘English’ which involves a rejection of the metropolitan power over the means of communication” or the seizure of the language which “brings it under the influence of a vernacular tongue” (Ashcroft, Griffiths and Tiffin, 1989, p38-39). This denial finds expression in the use of bastardised versions of an imperial language, Pidgin English or just conjuring local images in a way that is accessible to indigenous people. Abrogation and appropriation are often used together in postcolonial discourse (Ashcroft, Griffiths and Tiffin, 2000). These tools explain the point of adapting English to meet peculiar needs such that it becomes nativised and is a counter to those who think that using English – or any other imperial language – imprisons the colonised within the coloniser’s conceptual paradigms (Ashcroft, Griffiths and Tiffin, 2000, p.5)

4. LOCATING POST-COLONIALISM IN AFRICAN FICTION

Abrogation and Appropriation

In Achebe’s Anthills of the Savannah (1987), there is the denial of the supremacy of a Standard English language. This is achieved through a refusal to adhere strictly to it throughout the novel. There is the twisting of English in addition to the presence of pidgin and native words. This denial of a Standard English would account for the presence and use of words like wahalla (p.55) and koboko (p.173), familiar street terms in Nigeria, in place of the standard ‘trouble’ and ‘whip’ respectively. One notices that in the scenes where these terms are used, the narration starts in Standard English before their interjection. This points to a rejection of English being the only medium of narration. The introduction of these words neutralises the complete hold of English on the novel. The novel also depicts a multilingual society where English is sometimes marred. The following excerpt of a discussion between two characters in the novel provides a ready example:

 ‘We couldn’t see very well whether his face was swell up. It was too dark. So we don’t know whether it was because of the dark or that his face was swell up.’

‘Thank you very much. You have given us the first solid information. You need not worry. We shall not mention you in any way.’

‘Thank you sir, thank you madam. This our country na waa. Na only God go save person’ (p.166) (my emphasis)

The blatant disregard for strict Standard English here is obvious. The first speaker (as noted in the first highlighted part of the excerpt) speaks ‘ungrammatically’ and instead of ‘swollen’, uses ‘swell up.’ To show a deliberateness, he repeats this a second time (also noted above). At that instant, the second speaker interrupts, and when the first speaker picks up the conversation again, he starts in Standard English and losing interest in its use, ends in Pidgin.

An excerpt from Barrett’s Blackass (2015, p.41) also shows a case of the use of Pidgin thus: “You this olofofo woman, I been think sey you get sense,” he said. “As you old reach, why you dey behave like small pikin? You never see oyibo before?” The language use in relation to the concern of how black people act when they see “oyibo” (white man) is symptomatic of the complexity of the postcolonial Subject. With pidgin, which is a reinvention of the colonial language, becoming a language of protest against the deification of the white body, it shows the inversion to colonial hegemony. This portrays what Amardeep Singh calls the exposition of the artificiality of colonial hegemonic power.

This use of Pidgin and bastardised English is significant since it is an example of a technique used by post-colonial writers to re-affirm the notion of language as a practice and reintroduce the ‘marginal’ complexities of speakers’ practice as the subject of linguistics (Ashcroft, Griffiths and Tiffin, 1989, p.46). It shows a disregard for the complete use of Standard English and can be looked at as a way of asserting its non-domineering role in both post-colonial literature and the societies portrayed.

Untranslated Words

Post-colonial writers make use of untranslated indigenous words in order to show an affinity with their roots as well as to show that the language and culture that they are portraying in whatever imperial language has some amount of distinctiveness and difference from it. In essence, the language is not wholly English, but is a product of the society being portrayed. This style informs “a careful lexical loyalty which tends to leave some words untranslated in the text which actually informs the novel is in an/Other language” (Ashcroft, Griffiths and Tiffin, 1989, p.64). The reasons for the presence of these words might be deliberate, for an effect or because of the absence of an alternative in the standard language of narration. What is important to note is that they abound in African novels.

In Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie’s Purple Hibiscus (2006), there is the constant appearance of ‘ke kwanu?’ instead of the English ‘How are you?’, ‘nne’ for ‘mother’, ‘biko’ instead of ‘please’, ‘ogini?’ for ‘what is it?’ and ‘ka o di’ in place of ‘goodbye.’ However, there are cases where there are no English alternatives and the use of untranslated words becomes not a ‘luxury’ as seen in Adichie’s example but an absolute necessity. The use of the word, ‘ogogoro’ in Ben Okri’s The Famished Road (1992) is a case in point. ‘Ogogoro’ refers to a local spirit distilled from palm wine. Though this drink is a part of the African society Okri portrays, it has no home in the English vocabulary. Similar to this is the presence of words like ‘ozo,’ ‘chi,’ ‘Agwu,’ and ‘Idemili’ in Achebe’s Anthills of the Savannah. ‘Ozo’ refers to one of the highest local chieftaincy titles and ranks that a man can attain in Igbo land. Chi refers to a personal spirit that everyone has and/or possesses. ‘Agwu’ and ‘Idemili’ on the other hand are local deities. Agwu is the god of healers and brother to madness (p.125) while Idemili is the resplendent Pillar of Water and Daughter of God (Achebe, 1987, p.103, p.105).

Furthermore, on page 202, the character Chris comes across an inscription on a bus “Ife onye metalu”. Perhaps, the words might have appeared in English completely, but they are “written in the indigenous language… [are] concise in the extreme and, for that reason, hard if not impossible to translate…” (Achebe, 1987, p.202). A concise translation is given later as “What a man commits” (202).

Whatever reasons an author chooses for its adoption, there is no doubt that the presence of untranslated words and makes works significantly indigenous.

Hybridity

Hybridity, also called transculturation, is derived from ‘hybrid’, which refers to a mixture of two (or more) things or elements into one. It takes many forms and may be political, linguistic, cultural or racial (Ashcroft, Griffiths and Tiffin, 2003). It comes as a result of the coloniser’s contact with the colonised which results in the colonised becoming a fusion of two worlds – fused of their ancestry and that of the colonial world. It is related to mimicry, which refers to the mimicking of colonial or imperial attitudes by the colonised

Hybridity in Achebe’s Anthills of the Savannah can be seen in the characters portrayed in the novel. Beatrice (Nwanyibuife), a principal character in the novel, comes across as the perfect hybrid. Linguistically, we see her mostly speaking Standard English, then her local language expressed in her singing a local song, “ogwogwo mmili takumei ayolo” (p.95). We also find her speaking Pidgin English in several instances notably page 174 where she is talking to Elewa “You no fit carry on like this at all. If you no want save yourself then make you save the pickin inside your belle. You hear me? […]” However, Beatrice’s hybridisation does not stop at the linguistic level alone. In Chapter Eight, the reader is introduced to her ancestral roots and her traditions, which she is oblivious of while growing. She goes to school and even gets a first class degree in English. She is seemingly sophisticated and works as a Secretary in a Ministry. Yet, she is also a village priestess. She is the “one who will prophesy when her divinity rides her abandoning if need be her soup-pot on the fire, but returning again when the god departs to the domesticity of kitchen or the bargaining market-stool behind her little display of peppers and dry fish and green vegetables” (105). She becomes ‘two different people’ fused into one. She is the modern sophisticated girl on the one hand, and the rural priestess on the other.

This form of hybridity, that shows the colonised Subject and a magical reality that is inherently part of her African personality, is what Isidore Diala (2013, p78) refers to as “providing a distinctive way of apprehending that [African] world.” Besides the character apprehending her world, Diala, writing on Isidore Okpewho’s Call Me by My Right Name notes that such presence of magical realism brings to fore “the worldview it epitomizes to measure contrasting rationalist Western modes of thought.”(Emphasis mine).

Affiliation

Affiliation refers to the conjuring of indigenous history and culture with a link to the present showing native context. It privileges the local and denies the notion of Europe or the imperial being the dominant history through which every other significant habit or tradition is linked to. Often, there is the infusion of a vernacular tradition, the use of proverbs or native quotes which give the text an extra dimension that is not accessible to the people whose qualification in reading is an understanding of the English language alone. The text is then “affiliated with the network of history, culture and society within which it comes into being and is read” (Ashcroft, Griffiths and Tiffin, 2000,p105-6).

There is a strong connection with the past drawn into the present portrayed in Achebe’s trilogy comprising Things Fall Apart (1958), No Longer at Ease (1960),and Arrows of God (1964). Through the lingering narrative of a family across generations, these works trace pre-colonial African history in rural Umuofia through to the coming of the Europeans and the immediate days of post-independence in the urban Lagos. He achieves this tying of history again in Anthills of the Savannah, set in a post-colonial fictional nation with lots of history, allusion and traditions from a pre-colonial Igbo society. It is noted in the novel that Western education creates some form of distance between natives and their culture, as they are taught more about Western and Jewish (Christian) values to the detriment of theirs. In the end, it is almost as if the education, as envisioned by the colonialists was deliberately designed to engender a deep cultural and psychological alienation in the colonised. Hence, Beatrice is meant to be ignorant of her indigenous traditions but there is no escaping knowing this rich cultural foundation. In the end, she becomes a traditional priestess without any formal process known to her. One gets to realise the strength of tradition and culture on the Igbo and by extension, African. As Achebe (1987, p.105) notes, there is no running away; “baptism (translated in their language as Water of God) is no antidote against possession by Agwu the capricious god of diviners and artists.”

This sense of tradition deviates from the norms of the West and points to a particularly African history. “It sends the critical gaze beyond the narrow confines of the European and canonically literary into this cultural heritage” (Ashcroft, Griffiths and Tiffin, 2000, 105). This helps to “make visible, to give materiality back to the strands holding the text to society, author and culture”(Said, 1983, p.175).

5. IMPLICATION FOR EDUCATION

While this paper has concentrated on showing the linguistic and cultural tools of African fiction, there is also the implication for education and knowledge creation, translated into human development, which is apparent. The various tools show that a curriculum with African fiction would stretch the minds of students without proper knowledge of Africa beyond stereotypes.

For the African student, there is the celebration of their indigenous knowledge and a reduction of the confusion that comes from studying alien cultures. The study of African fiction and literature brings about a decolonisation of the curriculum. Students are able to study works they are affiliated to and with which they can relate more easily. Thus, the struggle that comes from trying to understand abstract concepts like ‘winter’ in a tropical region or studying Dickens or Shakespeare is removed. While one appreciates the expansion of the mind such foreign texts bring, there is something about learning things one can touch that are concrete. The student, in turn, gets to appreciate the worth of their culture especially in scenarios where foreign things are seen as superior (Olaleke, 2010). It increases their sense of self-worth and confidence as they know that they have a heritage they can be proud of, and that their stories are legitimate. For the non-African student, there is the learning of African tradition and appreciation of the people as directly exposed to them in these works.

It is against this background that African fiction is a key component of the curriculum across national levels and in departments of African studies across the world. It is important to note that African fiction is not just studied as part of literature but in disciplines like anthropology, education, history, and sociology, through key readings like Achebe’s Things Fall Apart, Adichie’s Half of a Yellow-Sun, Ngugi’s The River Between, to mention a few classics with the addition of more contemporary materials.

It is apparent that exposure to African fiction, whether in the curriculum, or by general reading, provides a more rounded view of the continent and her peoples beyond a single story. It is a window into history, sociology, and politics, which enhances the knowledge of readers. It encourages indigenous and alternative narratives. Importantly, it furthers the process of decolonisation, which is key for equality and self-worth in an increasingly globalised world.

6. CONCLUSION

This paper has examined the nature of postcolonial theory as enacted in African fiction through writers’ use of language and portrayal of indigenous culture. It has also shown the implication of this for education and individual development as it largely helps to give readers a deeper sense of Africa and her people.

From the foregoing, it is evident that postcolonial African fiction paints a world that constitutes the continent’s reality. It embodies the several aspects of postcolonial theory and helps any reader to get a glimpse of the culture and uniqueness of the societies it portrays. It invites readers into a new world that is different from the European worldview, showing the complexity of what Africa and being African means. Thus, it creates a knowledge base for even the casual reader and becomes an effective tool of decolonisation and a viable vehicle for the production of knowledge.

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