Thursday, August 4, 2011

"Half of a Yellow Sun" Review and Reflection


HALF OF A YELLOW SUN

In HALF OF A YELLOW SUN, Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie tells the story of the attempted succession of Biafra that took place in the late 1960s in Nigeria. Like any story of war, fiction or non-fiction, the tale is visceral when told from individual viewpoints and experiences. Adichie’s female characters are victimized in every conceivable manner. From the mildest sexual advances of an admirer, to a father’s disapproval of his daughter’s choices, to infidelity, and then starvation and gang rape, individual men, groups of men and governments—foreign and domestic—act out upon women’s bodies and minds throughout the book. It was a harrowing read.
All the while, the female characters, especially the major characters, are imperfect and thus, realistic women. It is not as if they are presented only as victims. Nor are they presented as caricatures of real women living the realities Igbo women faced during the civil war in Nigeria. Novels sometimes depict women living in intolerable conditions so that they are martyred, and consequently rendered incapable of receiving our empathy, even while we sympathize with them. The story of Biafra’s succession is told in a unique way. We do not just read about or see pictures or short films of nameless “starving children” but rather bear witness to a mother’s heartache as she watches her toddler daughter suffer the effects of starvation.
The men are not merely perpetrators of violence against women in this story, as well. We see the transformation of a young boy into a scared soldier who is then goaded into participating in the gang rape of an adolescent girl. What is most disturbing about this portrayal is that the character is likable before this incident. We cannot dismiss him as a monster, and are forced to realize the circumstances that contribute to otherwise sane, decent men who come to act as rapists in war. Even after the rape, the character warrants our sympathy, if not our empathy. As a young teen, isn’t he, too, a victim of the violence of war? He has a family, sisters, a mother, exhibits the fumbling behaviors and longings of romantic feelings as he falls in love with a young girl and is conflicted over his own behavior and of what he finds himself capable. How can we blame him for his actions in war?
I do not believe it is the author’s specific intention that we sympathize, empathize or excuse the violent episode of rape as a result of our appreciation of the circumstances in which a young man finds himself. Her depiction is not so trite as that, and her overall literary style is not such that she attempts to trick us into feeling sorry for a rapist. I believe she presents this episode so that we will see how war and genocide scar and cripple not only innocents in the situation, but also those who would perpetrate the violence against one another as combatants.
Even though Adichie’s female characters are strong women, this is not what remained with me from my reading of HALF OF A YELLOW SUN. Rather, I wonder what is to be done about situations like that which occurred in Nigeria, and which still continue in various parts of the world today? Are foreign governments responsible to act in parent-like roles to separate arguing siblings of different ethnicities and backgrounds? On the one hand, parents are responsible for teaching children about conflict resolution. Yet, are countries to be considered children? If we remove the parental role and view the situation as an argument between two people, in most functioning governments in the world, there are laws established that prescribe or prohibit violent behavior as a means to solve conflict. While it is clear within a country that the laws of the country bear upon its citizens, it is not clear how the accepted laws of particular countries interact with or apply to other countries.
More modern situations like the rape of women in Kosovo or in Darfur, for example, in addition to the starvation and mass killings that occur, are of feminist concern. These issues have an impact on women of all countries. When women anywhere are not safe in their homes, or in the streets where they live, men and women are concerned. Society is concerned, and I would say rightfully so. Books like Adichie’s HALF OF A YELLOW SUN provide a window into the lived experience of those who face these kinds of situations. I believe we move a step closer to understanding the issues in civil unrest at a personal level when we read novels or true accounts that provide a view of individual lives in such extraordinary circumstances. That the circumstances are not actually that extraordinary, but rather occur in our world every day, can be overwhelming to consider. I’m not sure what we might do as individuals to aid in these conflicts. I’m less sure about what foreign governments and groups can and should do. I do know that I’m thankful for women like Adichie, who give voice to those who have died or have been struck voiceless, so that we might all come together and move toward healing the conflicts in our world in more peaceful, productive ways. I believe this is the power and promise of feminism.

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