While there is some merit to these representations, what needs to be reviewed is the implication of those
qualifiers: for example, that it is Aunty Ifeoma’s education that makes her unconstrained by convention, making
her an enlightened, bold, and a strong woman other women should aspire to become. Juxtaposing Beatrice’s
depiction as weak, indecisive, and taciturn with Ifeoma’s strong, assertive, and outspoken persona, Ndula
concludes that “all these qualities speak to the way [Ifeoma] parts with the social constructs of her society for
her gender” (38). This interpretation makes it imperative to point out that while traditional and Western
ideologies coexist in Igbo land, to the extent that the latter has considerable influence over the former, the
features displayed by character of Ifeoma in Purple Hibiscus derive primarily from her tradition.
I hold the view that on the contrary that the personality traits of Aunty Ifeoma’s character, are indeed
representative of an Igbo woman and her Western education is merely complementary to her Igbo values:
assertiveness (she is daring, questions Papa’s condescension and Papa Nnukwu’s patriarchal mindset),
aggressiveness (when she says she considered stuffing sand into the mouth of an invisible female character), and
her ‘unconventional’ stance on marriage (she does not believe a woman should endure an abusive marriage). I
will argue further that the consequences of taking her education as the liberating force is that it robs the Igbo
cultural canon of entitlement to its own rights as a sanctioned system of beliefs with its own beauty, truth, and
flaws, just as it promotes the colonialist myth that Western values are needed to ‘save’ the Igbo culture from
itself.
Denkyi-Manieson (2017) highlights female education, marginalization, marriage, childbirth, and fertility as
some of the overarching themes found in Adichie’s novels. On education, she posits that Adichie juxtaposes
Beatrice and Ifeoma as two different women, one educated, the other not. Denkyi-Manieson believes that
Beatrice is “symbolic of our womenfolk who have given up under the yoke of gender segregation, resigned to
fate and have resolved to live in masochism” while Ifeoma is “well educated, enlightened and a liberated woman”
(52). Indeed, education is a powerful tool in the empowerment of women; according to Bungaro (2006) social
mobility and choices seem highly unlikely for women with limited access to wealth and education. At the same
time, the significance of a good education does not come without an ideological challenge to traditional Igbo
institutions like the umunna (lineage sons), umuada (lineage daughters), and family elders forum which promote
egalitarian ideals in handling the affairs of families and communities. Accentuating the efficiency of these
cultural institutions within the Igbo society, Nzegwu reports that the Igbo woman leaned on these institutions to
activate her voice within the family, and her freedom of choice on marriage, child rearing, and ownership of
properties. It would appear that recourse to cultural values remains the center of formation of identity for the
woman. For while she may be educated, the force of epistemic violence of male superiority never effaces.
Drawing the literacy line between Beatrice and Ifeoma, as Denkyi-Manieson does, suggests an appropriation of
Ifeoma’s formal education as the liberating force in the novel: that Ifeoma’s Western education on its own
liberates the oppressed, as though it is not the same education with which Ifeoma liberates that Eugene terrorizes.
Rather than purely a result of formal education, Ifeoma’s wisdom and idiosyncrasies show a mix of both formal
and native intelligence, with the latter most highly valued in the novel. She demonstrates her native intelligence
when she utters the aphoristic “When a house is on fire, you run out before the roof collapses on your head”
(213), a powerful statement that nudges Beatrice from her passive womanhood into proactive motherhood. For
it is after this statement that Beatrice takes agency of her destiny; an instance that demonstrates the novel’s
representation of motherhood as both a mix of self-determination—Beatrice takes action to stop the abusive
regime of husband toward her and her children—and a force of oppression—until later in the novel she refuses
to act because of her social roles and the constraining cultural expectations of the society from a wife and a
mother, who must sustain her home and endure uncomfortable conditions for the sustenance of her marriage and
the safety of her children.
If Mama’s reserved personality says anything about her as an African woman, it must be that, for her and other
African women like her, power lies in her silence and calm; her main reason for enduring the suffering is the
safety of her children, the protection of her ‘joy of motherhood,’ to use the words of Nwapa (23). In a
conversation with Kambili, the utterance below reflects Mama’s default position toward marriage:
God is faithful. You know after you came and I had the miscarriages, the villagers started to whisper. The
members of our umunna even sent people to your father to urge him to have children with someone else. So
many people had willing daughters, and many of them were university graduates, too. They might have borne
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