Reserve Text from Omar Sougou, Writing Across Cultures: Gender Politics and Difference in the Fiction of Buchi Emecheta. New York: Rodopi, 2002

Chapter 4: Towards Consciousness
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TheJoys of Motherhood and Destjnation Biafra
The Joys of Motherhood

IT IS FREQUENTLY NOTED THAT EARLY FEMINISM (late 1960s to early 1970s) was conspicuously uninterested in motherhood. In the years since then, motherhood as an institution has become a concern of feminist studies. Adrienne Rich's Of Women Born: Motherhood as Experience and Institution is a significant early feminist work on the subject, exploring it in its development through history and social formations. A number of later analyses of motherhood acknowledge their debt to this work. Rich distinguishes two meanings of motherhood. One is the potential relationship of any woman to her powers of reproduction and to children. The other is the institution which aims at placing that potential and all women under male control:


This institution has been the keystone of the most diverse social and political systems. [...] In the most fundamental and bewildering of contradictions, it has alienated women from our bodies by incarcerating us in them. At certain points in history, and in certain cultures, the idea of women-as-mother has worked to endow all women with respect even with awe, and to give women some say in the life of a people or a clan. But for most of what we know as the "mainstream" of recorded history, motherhood as institution has ghettoized and degraded female potentialities. The power of the mother has two aspects: the biological potential or capacity to bear and nourish human life, and the magical power invested in women by men, whether in the torm of a goddessworship or the tear of being controlled and overwhelmed by women.1


1 Adrienne Rich, Of Women Born Motherhood as Experience and Institution (London: Virago, 1977): 13.

 

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Rich's overview of motherhood summarizes the concept as it functions in most cultural formations and is inscribed in literary production.

Motherhood in African literature by male writers is viewed with a certain reverence influenced by their patriarchal bias. Poetry especially has been replete with the portrayal of woman as mother and symbol. Among the writers otten cited are Leopold Sedar Senghor, who assimilates Africa to woman and the mother and conveys the idea of Africa needing to open herself to the fecund values of the West. This view echoes the colonialist picture of Africa as "essentially female (needing and desiring European masculinity-and paternal governance), so Senghor and many other African writers see Africa as female awaiting the African male to take his rightful place."2 David Diop uses the mother trope to condemn colonial violence. Camara Laye, in his novel The African Child and in the poem prefacing that novel, conveys the notion of the nurturing African woman.

To write about Africa as the mother, or to write the mother as a substitute for nurture and security, is not the same as paying attention to women as mothers. There, perhaps, lies the difference between texts authored by male writers and those by female ones. The fiction of African women has given us different images of women and mothers. In the work of Flora Nwapa, for example, motherhood is synonymous with victimization of the childless woman. Procreation defines femininity in the world of her heroines. Nwapa's fiction is particularly relevant to Emecheta's, because of the many affinities between the two writers' thematization of female experience. Their works share a similar fictional location in Nigerian society: Igbo culture.

On the theoretical level, African and black feminist literary scholars concern themselves with motherhood. Carole Boyce Davies studies its status in the work of Achebe, Emecheta, Nwapa and Nzekwu.3 Barbara Christian produces a comparative African! Afro-American study of motherhood drawing on Emecheta' s The Joys of Motherhood.4 Motherhood appears as continu

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2 Kathleen McLuskie & Lyn Innes, "Women and African Literature," Wasafiri 8 (Spring 1988): 4.
3 Carole Boyce Davies, "Motherhood in the Works of Male and Female Igbo Writers: Achebe, Emecheta, Nwapa and Nzekwu," in Ngambika: Studies of Women in African Literature, ed. Davies & Adams Graves, 241-56.

4 Barbara Christian, "An Angle of Seeing: Motherhood in Buchi Emecheta's The Joys of Motherhood and Alice Walker's Meridian," in Christian, Black Feminist Criticism: Perspectives on Black Women Writers (New York: Pergamon. 1985): 00-00.##

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ity and survival in these two essays. Both critics agree about the centrality of motherhood in African and African-American lite. What Christian observes about Alice Walker and Emecheta could apply to a good deal of other writing about mothering in Africa:

While acknowledging the respect tor motherhood that Atrican and AtroAmerican cultures proclaim, the authors insist that women be valued tor themselves and not reduced to a tunction, a thing, On the other hand, both writers see that motherhood provides an important insight into the precariousness, the value of lite, which is the cornerstone of the value of freedom [,..], Thus, motherhood includes not only bearing children, but the resistance against that which would destroy lite and the nurturance of that which would support and develop lite. For them, teminism is inseparable trom the struggle of the living to be tree, and treedom cannot exist unless women, mothers or not, are free to pursue it. (247-48)

Boyce Davies studies motherhood by using male and female writers to contrast the perception of motherhood in male writing (Ache be and Nzekwu) with motherhood as seen from within in the work of female novelists (Emecheta and Nwapa). Like Christian and Filomina Steady,S whom she cites, Boyce Davies endorses the importance of motherhood and the centrality of childbearing. Yet, even if she accepts Steady's idea that this "is probably the most fundamental difference between the African woman and her Western counterpart in the common struggle to end discrimination against women," she rejects the view in African ideological formations that motherhood defines womanhood (243). Davies's reading highlights the "idealization of motherhood and the inability of male writers to present the details of woman's experience," whereas the women writers present "the great 'unwritten' stories of African literature" (254). Such untold stories reveal that children are not the final and only happiness for their mothers and that womanhood should not be predicated on mothering. There are alternative routes to success and freedom. As Boyce Davies points out, "African women have never been limited totally to childbearing but have consistently attained excellence in other spheres. This is why Nnu Ego's life is such a tragedy" (255).

The Joys of Motherhood is a radical questioning of the myth of motherhood as it has crystallized in African societies and writing, radical enough to

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6 Filomina Chioma Steady, ed. The Black Woman Cross-Culturally (Cambridge MA: Schenkman, 1981); Steady, ed. Women and Children First: Environment, Poverty, and Sustainable Development (Rochester VT: Schenkman. 1993).


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sidestep Nwapa's treatment of mothering in Efuru and [duo In the following discussion, I seek to show how Emecheta undoes the notions of security and continuity about motherhood in a society in transition, and to analyse her depiction of the status of women in traditional society and how colonialism acts on the lives of both women and men. I shall also emphasize the feminist implications of the novel and consider it in relation to the narrative voice. In so doing I shall underscore the "balancing act" of which Lloyd Brown has spoken.6 Such an act is reflected in the double-voiced discourse at work in The Joys of Motherhood. This rhetoric expresses the double-sided struggle of the African women against oppressive patriarchal ideology which constructs her as the lesser Other confined to a reproductive role, and the colonial political and economic formation that subjugates the whole of the community.

The Joys of Motherhood focuses on maternal issues while embracing African women's problems in general. The wording of the title does not reflect the 'reality' in the story. It marks the irony the writer employs throughout this work. The events and actions lay bare the dark side of motherhood, and undermine the myth of maternity as a source of happiness. The fictional instrument of Emecheta, Nnu Ego, has seldom known happiness in marriage or motherhood apart from the satisfaction of being able to give birth to children, male ones particularly. Nnu Ego's story echoes that of Efuru, the eponymous heroine of Flora Nwapa's novel, from which the title of Emecheta's book is borrowed.7

Emecheta uses Nnu Ego's experience to reconstruct the issues of urbanization in colonial Nigeria and its effect on women. Similarly, the involvement of Africans in the Second World War is shown and condemned through a woman's perspective. As in the earlier novels of Emecheta, the need is stressed for education in order to fit into the new social structure. So is the contention between traditional values and the new ones. All of these topics revolve around a central argument, which is the questioning of the traditional values attached to motherhood as an institution defined by patriarchy and based on gender.

By transplanting a woman of twenty-five, Nnu Ego, from her traditional milieu to the developing city of Lagos in 1936, The Joys of l\1otherhood lends

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6 Lloyd Brown, Women Writers in Black Africa (Westport CT: Greenwood, 1981): 142, 182-83.

7 Flora Nwapa, Ejilru (London: Heinemann, 1966). See Marie A. Umeh, "The Joys of Motherhood: Myth or Reality'?" Colby Library Quarterly 18.1(1982): 39-40


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another dimension to the clash of values at work in The Bride Price. The structure of the novel highlights the difference between the two worlds. The analepsis to the traditional and precolonial world after an introduction to 1940s Lagos points to the rift between the old and the new order and their world-views. The device similarly offers a glimpse at women's status in the precolonial formation and furnishes a background to Nnu Ego's experience of motherhood and to the critique of this institution in the narrative.


The mother's mother
Emecheta makes use ofNnu Ego's mother, ana, as an explanation for some of what happens to Nnu Ego, in the same way as she makes her an oppositional figure to the heroine. ana also serves as a medium for an examination of traditional values. The episode in Ibuza relates Nnu Ego's origins. She was born to Agbadi, a chief, and ana. LNnu Ego's mother is represented as a character endowed with free will, outspokenness, and a sense of independence, all of which make her an uncommon woman in the eyes of the traditional group_~!Ona's personality is defined in terms of her father's wish for a male child in accordance with social views that predicate a woman's value on mothering male children. The text attacks this notion right from the beginning, and shows it to be part of the victimization of female subjects, as can be seen in the metaphysical explanation for Nnu Ego's birth, which is metonymic of their fate under patriarchy.

Nnu Ego is constructed as the reincarnation of a murdered slave woman buried, in accordance with custom, alongside her father's senior wife.8 The ritual murder of the slave woman in this part of the novel, in which the narrative voice celebrates African tradition, produces a sharp contrast with the positive picture that underlies this leap back in the past{The grandeur and dignity of precolonial Ibuza, in which women are supposed to enjoy status and power, is questioned by the narrative voice itself in the description of a murderous act that points to the connivance of class and gender..) The women's revulsion contrasts with male callousness, and their attitude suggests a similarity in status to the slave women. Even in the traditional ideological formation, women are the Other, regardless of their class. The reader is told:

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8 There are versions of thc same event in The Bride Price and The Slave Girl. The trope is more sustained in The Joys of Motherhood


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She kept begging for her life much to the annoyance of the men standing around. The women stood far off for this was a custom the,V found revolting. The poor slave was pushed into the shallow grave, but she struggled out fighting and pleading, appealing to her owner Agbadi.9


The narrative subverts the glorious picture of the traditional society with this gory death of The Slave Girl. Male dominance is under attack; the heroic Agbadi is represented as no different from any other male. The narrator discloses gender sympathy on many occasions, as in the women's reaction to the murder, and assumes an ambivalent attitude toward tradition and the values incarnated by Agabadi. On the other hand, Nnu Ego's mother is the indirect cause of the senior wife's death, which happens following a stroke provoked by jealousy towards Ona.

Ona is depicted as a woman dedicated to asserting herself according to her own principles; she is strong and arrogant enough to match the boisterous and witty Agbadi. ana embodies the high value placed on womanhood and freedom, which is expressed in this plea to Agabadi for Nnu Ego:
"Please don't mourn me for long; and see that however much you love our daughter Nnu Ego you allow her to have a life of her own, a husband if she wants one. Allow her to be a woman." (28)
In return, Agunwa is represented in a manner converse to the opinion generally held about the freedom of precolonial women. Agbadi's senior wife is a conformist, and typifies another type of traditional women. She accepts husband-sharing, even though she suffers from ana's presence in the household, and suppresses her feelings.

A synoptic view of the ideal woman in the traditional community is given in Agbadi's tribute to Agunwa. "Your mother," he tells her sons, "is a good woman. So unobtrusive, so quiet. I don't know who else will help me keep an eye on those young wives of mine, and see to the smooth running of my household" (22). This testimony highlights the contrast between Agunwa and ana, and stresses gender ideology. In this light, if ana's refusal to marry Agbadi stems from a desire to attain self-fulfilment, then it is predetermined by male prospects. "She had been dedicated to the gods to produce children in [her father's] name, not that of any husband" (17-18). Obi Umunna's purpose was not to shape in her a personality which would challenge social

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9 The Joys of Motherhood (London: Allison & Busby, 1979): 23 (my emphasis). All further references are to this edition.

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norms but to attain his own ends. He meant her to perpetuate his name, which would not be possible if a bride price were paid, because all her children would belong to her husband and bear his name. ana's freedom is eventually limited on account of her divided loyalty; she is torn between two men, her father and her lover, Agbadi, to whom she offers this deal as a solution to her dilemma:
Since my tather will not accept any bride price tram you, if I have a son he will belong to my tather, but if a girl, she will be yours. That is the best I can do for you both. (24)

The creation of ana is perhaps a manner of asserting that traditional society did not nurture subservient women only, but she demonstrates both an independent spirit and a sense of loyalty to the males in her life -attitudes consonant with phallocentric normative values. This tension is carried over to Nnu Ego.

Kathleen McLuskie and Lyn Innes, as feminist readers, consider that the distribution of emotional focus is undermined by the fact that the precolonial world is one of male power in which Ona is "objectified in the language of male fantasy," as manifested in the description of ana. They consider this descriptive language to be associated with male fantasy and the colonial fantasy of Conrad's MarIow viewing Kurtz's mistress as splendidly barbaric, seductive and threatening; and posit that it dislocates, for the feminist reader, "the possibility that ana could be seen as an emblem of precolonial female power."

McLuskie and Innes read the narrative procedure of movement from wartime Lagos to Ibuza, especially to the romantic world of ana and Agbadi, as a simple model of social change which is frequently subverted by the language and tone of the novel and the relationship it establishes with its readers. This overturning of relationship, I would argue in agreement, introduces a double-edged contrast which echoes a double-voiced narrative, and resides "in the contrast between heroic pre-colonial days of tribal dignity and power with the squalor and humiliation of a colonial city."
Both critics go on to suggest that the novel makes use of different literary discourses which do not blend in a coherent fashion. In this manner, the eurocentric depiction of the African woman with its Conradian bias is reproduced in a text which for the most part deliberately works to express an oppositional attitude to the colonial formation. This blending of languages echoes Show
-

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alter's observation that most women's writing operates within the dominant structure and "embodies the social, literary and cultural heritages of both the muted and the dominant."lo Emecheta draws on the European tradition, and on the African tradition established by established male writers steeped in European letters. All these voices contribute to the construction of The Joys of Motherhood, and confer on it the complexity found therein. This has been perceived by McLuskie and Innes, whose essay reminds us that African women writers "had to contend with the orthodoxies of nationalism which endorsed tradition, or rather versions of tradition, in the name of unity, self respect and community." The overwhelming national demands bring pressure to bear on women writers when it comes to criticizing such traditions and affirming self-fulfilment, as these are seen as betrayal and acculturation. The critics further note:

Where also were women writers to find their voices and audience in the dialectic between form and counterform, language and counter-language already established by such major writers as Achebe, Soyinka and Ngugi? In such a dialectic, the adoptation of the Western romantic genre might prove to be a step forward rather than a step back, or alternatively, the female writer might disrupt the dialogue of two. between Western and Atrican male traditions, by creating a multiplicity of voices. (6)

The Joys of Motherhood employs a multiplicity of voices in various ways, and this creates the complexity to which many critics have vaguely referred. 11

The novel offers multiple perceptions, contradictions and paradoxes in the depiction of ana by presenting her as a subject as strong as steel, but still commodified and willing to be placed under her father and Agbadi, between whom she moves, and depicting her in a language that insinuates the pervasive hold of patriarchal ideology.

The mother

Nnu Ego is a medium through which ideas of motherhood are interrogated. Both of the categories set up by Adrienne Rich are apparent in the representation of motherhood through her. She dramatizes "the potential relationship of any woman between her powers of reproduction and to children." The novel undermines the institutionalization of this potential to ensure male control

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10 Showalter, "Feminist Criticism in the Wilderness," 263.
11 See, for example, Maric A. Umeh, "The Joys of Motherhood: Myth or Reality'?"


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over women. Unfairness to women because of the value placed on fertility is shown in the callous treatment Nnu Ego receives from her first husband. The following remark put in his mouth asserts the centrality of children in a libidinal male economy, as well as the reproductive and productive role that detennine women's value in the traditional ideological formation:

I have no time to waste my precious seed on a woman who is infertile. I have to raise children tor my line. If you really want to know, you don't appeal to me any more. [...] I will come to your hut when my wife starts nursing her child. But now "If you can't produce sons, at least you can help harvest yams." (32-33)

This is a fictive representation of what Lauretta Ngcobo holds as being the basis of marriage among Africans, which implies "the transfer of a woman's fertility to the husband's family group" as a means of lineage continuity. Thus, the dowry (bride price, or lobola) is paid in exchange for sexual rights, essentially as a warranty of social control on the children borne by the woman in marriage.12

In the fictional treatment of motherhood by Flora Nwapa, what Efuru's neighbours say about her applies to Nnu Ego in the eyes of her people. Efuru is assimilated to a man for failing to bear child. Popular belief holds it that "two men do not live together," and the narrator adds, "to them Efuru was a man since she could not reproduce." Nwapa's characters repeatedly mention the usefulness of children, and one of them abstracts the notion here:


What is to you? Can a bag of money go tor an errand for you? Can a bag of money look after you in your old age? Can a bag of money mourn for you when you are dead? A child is more valuable than money. So our fathers said.13


Emecheta intertextually reinscribes this notion in the significance given to the name "Nnu Ego" by Agbadi:


"This child is priceless, more than twenty bags of cowries. I think that should really be her name, because she is a beauty and she is mine. Yes, 'Nnu Ego': twenty bags of cowries." (26)

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12 Lauretta Ngcobo, "African Motherhood. Myth and Reality," in Criticism and Ideology, ed. Kirsten Holst Petersen (Uppsala: Scandinavian Institute of African Studies, 1988): 141.

13 Efuru, 23.

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The name is double-edged. It can be a signifier for chattelism; the name is then assimilated to the prospective bride price; just as it can be decoded as an expression of love, had not Nnu Ego's actual bride price been equated with twenty bags of cowries. Emecheta seems to be playing deliberately on both senses.

Correlatively, Afam Ebeogu's essay on Igbo names in literature includes a critique of Emecheta' s "attempt to choose a name that culturally derogates and delimits the humanity of the heroine so that [she] can base a protest on that fact" which results in an unwitting misinterpretation of the onomastic conventions ofIgbo culture. 14 This remark is based on the names of Aku-nna and Ojebeta, but it is extensible to Nnu Ego's. This device is a meaningful constituent of the protest which Emecheta channels in her novels. The refusal to allow these names to mean what they are traditionally designed to denote is part of a female writer's resistance. It consists in subverting traditional discourse and the patriarchal ideology that is Emecheta's target. This deliberate tampering with names is central to her strategy of contestation. Nnu Ego is defined in terms of The Bride Price paid on her, and the capacity to mother children. She lives in a society which claims to value "motherhood," but what actually matters is male children. The Joys of Motherhood emphasizes this point in its interrogation of this institution, which goes along with a denunciation of the commodification of female subjects. The text reiterates the allegory of women's slavery in Agbadi' s reimbursement of The Bride Price to secure Nnu Ego's freedom from her first husband.

The treatment of the character's second marriage that leads her to Lagos in the second half of the 1930s prolongs the image of the utter dependence of women on male power. Gender relationships in the new urban environment are described as resembling those in force in the rural world, although they seem to be worsened by the different economic and social realities. Motherhood is seen in similar terms and the heroine's own definition of herself is predicated on this.

Already disappointed with her new husband's personal qualities and the nature of his employment, Nnu Ego is comforted by pregnancy; but her baby son dies. Then the narrative conjures up the mythic chi in Nnu Ego's visions, identified by the dibia as the slaughtered slave woman. The chi "would not give her a child because she had been dedicated to a river goddess before

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14 Afam Ebeogu, "Names and Naming in Fiction: Igbo Proper Names in Nigerian Literature of English Expression." Literarv Half-Yearlv 272 (19RIi): R7


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Agbadi took her away in slavery" (31). The slave woman is thus synonymous with Nemesis; and Agbadi propitiates her with sacrifices and vows to stop dealing in slaves (35).

On the other hand, the dreams present the slave woman as paradigmatic of a rhetoric of protest. The chi is construed as coming from a people whose women are said to be very strong. Her obstinate silence implies an act of retributive justice on behalf of slaves such as those in The Slave Girl and The Bride Price, and of women in actual or symbolic slavery. Emecheta gives the slave-woman trope a twofold significance. First, according to the Igbo traditional world-view, she is reincarnated in Nnu Ego. Secondly, as a chi she is represented as standing between Nnu Ego and the object of her desire: mothering. The chi tantalizes Nnu Ego with babies she does not allow her to have. Through the chi, a subversive rhetoric is deployed against the traditional view of motherhood that expresses the anger suppressed by Nnu Ego. The chi conveys in other words the anger of a feminist writer against patriarchal definitions of womanhood as motherhood.

The text offers two contrasting views of motherhood. One is that which comes from Nnu Ego's dream of the plump baby and the chi's laughter "Yes, take the dirty, chubby babies. You can have as many of those as you want" (77). The other is her dream about a successful "man-child' who would "live near his parents and look after them" (78-79). These conflicting visions prefigure the ambivalent discourse on motherhood conducted in the narrative. Through Nnu Ego's "masochistic-feminine willingness to sacrifice," the procedure undermines the mothering function presented in the novel; the type that Nancy Chodorow accounts for when she writes:

Women's capacities for mothering and abilities to get gratification from it are strongly internalized and psychologically enforced, and are built developmentally into the feminine psychic structure. Women are prepared psychologically for mothering through the developmental situation in which they grow up, and in which women are mothered. 15

The cultural construct of maternity as a guarantee of security and a safeguard of parents in their old age is questioned in Lagos society. Nnu Ego's hopes for a blissful future seem justified only along the lines of traditional thinking.

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15 Quoted by Susan Rubin Suleiman, "Writing and Motherhood," in The (M)other Tongue: Essays in Feminist Psychoanalytic Interpretation, ed. Shirley Nelson Gamer, Claire Kahane & Madelon Sprengnether (Ithaca NY & London: Cornell UP, 1985): 354.

 

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The chapter-title "The Canonised Mother" ironically suggests that she can expect a reward for her strenuous efforts to raise and provide her (male) children with education, the modern asset for success in life. The chapter substantiates the bitter understatement in its title and in the novel as a whole. The protagonist's consolation has been no more than that of being a mother. Her children -the male ones especially -for whom she has sacrificed everything shirk their duty when they are in a position to fulfil her dreams, leaving her to die alone.

The novel problematizes the traditional expectations attached to motherhood and attacks gender discrImination through the manner in which Nnu Ego, before dying, reviews her experience as a mother and concludes that she has been the victim of both her husband and her children, the males in her life. She resembles both her mother and the female heroes of Emecheta' s earlier novels. Nnu Ego's children were the bonds which tethered her to her husband and to an unhappy life in Lagos, in the remote prospect of relief when they grow up:

Her joy was to know that she had brought up her children when they started out with nothing, and that these same children might rub shoulders one day with the great men of Nigeria. That was the reward she expected. (202)

The changing values are thematized by way of her male children, whose views are opposed to those of their parents. Here resides the demythologization of The Joys of Motherhood. The heroine's male children are swept into the momentum of the new relations of production, and privilege their selfinterest. They are the fictional illustrations of a new type of relationship between parents and children, and are used to question the traditional view of parenthood. Oshia is represented as insensitive to the tradition of duty to parents and of collective responsibility in which Nnu Ego and Nnaife were born and bred. The conflict is dramatized in the responses of each parent. Nnaife demands that Oshia take on his family responsibilities, while Nnu Ego bears with Oshia in silent disappointment. The narrator's mediation of Nnu Ego's thoughts challenges commonly held views on motherhood and the received ideas of children as investment for the future:


She had been brought up to believe that children made a woman [...]. Still, how was she to know that by the time her children grew up the values of her country. her people and her tribe would have changed so drastically, to the extent where a woman with many children could face a lonely old age, and


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maybe a miserable death all alone, just like a barren woman? She was not even certain that worries over her children would not send her to her grave betore her chi was ready tor her. (219)


This situation, conveyed in free indirect speech where the narrator's voice mingles with that of the character, is one of the instances in which the reader notes a conjunction of perspectives. In such a collusion of voices one finds a narrator more committed and enlightened than the character, and whose political position is ahead of hers. Genevieve Slomsky would rather talk about collision bfvoice and perspective as part of Emecheta's strategy in The Bride Price, The Slave Girl and The Joys of Motherhood to conduct the "dialogue on the subject of revolt" -not within the female protagonist's perspective, or within voice, but between the other Genettian categories of mood and voice; "the revolutionary voice [of the narrator] collides with the reactionary perspective of the female hero.,,16 Herein lies the problem of "the possibility of sustaining feminist identification" which this novel poses to First World feminist readers, an absence of identification that McLuskie and Innes point to as exemplifying the difference in expectations of such readers, the African heroines, and novelists. The lack of feminist identification is seen by Innes and McLuskie as also resulting from the distance between the heroine (the centre of attention) and the reader as effected by the form of the novel. Nnu Ego is mostly "seen from the outside, visualised and objectified, separate from the reader." Another problem about The Joys of l',,{otherhood in this respect is that it deviates from the "prevailing model of a feminist novel [which) is one where the centre of consciousness is also the centre of attention whose feminist identity and growth of feminist understanding leads to happiness."

I would argue that the novel lends itself to a more informed reading when considered as double-voiced discourse, where voices collude and collide, and where the heroine's perspective is mediated in tight propinquity to the militant voice of the narrator. Such a rhetoric replicates the ambivalence about motherhood within African heroines, in the same way as it does the search on the part of their creators to reconcile the struggle against sexist ideology with the national one. Furthermore, closer attention to the text reveals that the objectification ofNnu Ego diminishes as the narrative unfolds. She is gradu

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16 Genevieve T. Slomsky, "Dialogue in the Discourse: Study of Revolt in Selected Fiction by African Women" (unpublished doctoral dissertation, Indianaa University, 1986): 158.



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ally given a voice of her own. An illustration of this can be found at a crucial
point in the narrative in which the pain of waking into consciousness, triggered by labour pains, is given full expression. The rhetorical questions that
punctuate the passage point to Nnu Ego's new awareness, which culminates
in this treatment of her inner speech:

"God, when will you create a woman who will be tultilled in herselt~ a tull
human being, not anybody' s appendage'?" She prayed desperately. ,. After all, I
was born alone, and I shall die alone, What have I gained trom all this'? Yes, 1
have many children, but what do I have to teed them on? On my life. I have to
work myself to the bone to look after them, I have to give them my all .."
When will I be tree?" But in her contusion she knew the answer: "Never, not
even in death, I am a prisoner of my own flesh and blood. Is it such an
enviable position'? The men make it look as if we must aspire tor children or
die. That's why when I lost my first son I wanted to die, because I failed to
live up to the standard expected of me by the males in my life, my father and
my husband -and now I have to include my sons. But who made the law that
we should not hope in our daughters? We women subscribe to that law more
than anyone. Until we change all this, it is still a man's world, which women
will always help to build." (186-87)

A slippage from the first-person singular to the first-person plural occurs in the two final sentences, indicating a moment when two voices seem to converge. On closer scrutiny the pronoun "we" may signal the narrator's voice merging with Nnu Ego's, both sounding like the mouthpieces of their oppressed sisters.

Elsewhere in this novel, the narrator identifies with the heroine in a similar way, but with a distinctly autonomous voice. She starts Chapter Ten by saying: "Humans, being what we are, tend to forget the most unsavoury experiences of life." Similarly, the narrator overtly assimilates herself to the Nigerian people by using the syntactic marker "us" while explaining the concern of the passers-by for Nnu Ego's life. The comment runs as follows:

 

However a thing like that [saying, "after all it is her life"] is not permitted in
Nigeria; you are simply not allowed to commit suicide in peace, because
everyone is responsible for the other person. Foreigners may call us a nation of
busybodies, but to us an individual's lite belongs to the community and not
just to him or her, So a person has no right to take it while another member of
the community looks on. He must intertere, he must stop it happening. (60)


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Emecheta's use of a voice that identifies with Nigeria earns her the acknowledgement of homecoming from the Nigerian critic Chikwenye Okonjo Ogunyemi, who writes: "by using the pronoun 'us' for the first time with herself included, she finally accepts her sense of belonging with Africa instead of emphasizing her spirit of dissociation."17

These syntactic markers clearly identify the voice of a narrator implicated in the matter. Discussing Emecheta as a storyteller, Cynthia Ward argues in favour of "the possibilities for a variety of competing self:'identities [that] are reified into woman, African, mother, author",18 but I would suggest that these categories of subjectivity can be collapsed into two main voices: that of the African and that of the woman. Of these voices, the woman's seems to be predominant in the narrative, as in the section based in Lagos. I have already noted various changes of perspectives reflected in the language employed and partaking of different traditions of writing, as in the precolonial section of the narrative. In this episode, just as in the Lagos one, the narrative voice assumes an African woman's perspective: both nostalgic for tradition in some way and critical of its other sides. At one point, the narrator contrasts urban experience with traditional life, and observes about Nnaife and Nnu Ego:

There was no time for petting or talking to their wives about love. That type of
family awareness which the illiterate farmer was able to show his wives, his
household, his compound, has been lost in Lagos, for the job of the white man,
for the joy of buying expensive lappas, and for the feel of shiny trinkets. (52)


The narrative strongly suggests that the culture in which the heroine has been steeped and to which she has clung throughout her life is giving way under the onslaught of ideological changes brought in by the new mode of production, Against this, the novel pits the figure of the dignified traditional mother honoured by her progeny and the idea evoked in Things Fall Apart, nneka: "mother is supreme." Emecheta thus appears to contextualize and write back to Achebe while thinking through Flora Nwapa. Both Efuru and The Joys of Motherhood end with traditional mythic evocations challenging dominant


------------------------------
17 Ogunyemi, "Buchi Emecheta: The Shaping of a Self," Komparatistische Hefte 8 (1983): 75. This critic makes reservations about her statement: "From Emecheta's spirited response to this paper, her later resignation from the University of Calabar, Nigeria, where she had been teaching courses in creative writing for one year, and her articles in West Africa my optimism may be rather premature" (fn 15).
18 Cynthia Ward, "What They Told Buchi Emecheta: Oral Subjectivity and The Joys
of'Otherhood'," PMLA 105,) (1990): 92-105



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assumptions about motherhood. Nwapa's novel ends with Efuru dreaming about Uhamiri the happy, beautiful, wealthy and childless woman of the lake who gave women beauty and wealth: "She had never experienced the joy of motherhood. Why then did the women worship her?," as the narrator concludes the story. Emecheta's novel closes with Nnu Ego dying by the roadside, "with no child to hold her hand and no friend to talk to her. She had never really made many friends, so busy had she been building up her joys as a mother." All she has is a shrine in her name for barren women to appeal to her. The sustained irony in the narrator's voice concludes the story: "Nnu Ego had it all, yet still did not answer prayers for children."

Nnu Ego is shown as unable to construct a language to articulate her experience, and is killed at the moment in which she begins to understand the nature of her double oppression. Susan Rubin Suleiman's summary of Kristeva's argument on women and culture bears on Nnu Ego's position here:

Motherhood, which establishes a natural link (the child) between woman and the social world, provides a privileged means of entry into the order of culture and of language. This privilege belongs to the mother [...] not only in contrast to women who are not mothers but also in contrast to men, whose relationship to the symbolic order is itself problematical, characterized by discontinuity, separation, absence. [...] Since the more elemental law of the reproduction of species is essentially in women's hands. Kristeva wonders whether women mothers are not, in fact, at the very opposite pole of dissidence -whether by maintaining the species they do not also maintain and guarantee the existing social order. She does not answer this question directly, but my sense is that if pressed, her answer would be: "yes and no."19

Both Nwapa's and Emecheta's novels conduct a critique of the patriarchal definition of womanhood and motherhood by using the language of the ideological formation. They appropriate elements of the belief systems (goddesses; chi) as vectors for their contestation, and point to alternative paths for women to take.

In her construction ofNnu Ego, Emecheta pursues the slave parable that is palimpsestic in the narrative. The chi seems to retaliate against a system that robs women first of their identity and then of their freedom. The spirit of the departed Nnu Ego also upholds the protest her chi has sustained thus far through her, and prolongs the narrative of dissent in her silence before the prayers of women appealing to her for fertility. Nnu Ego's denial is a signi

-----------------------

19 Suleiman. "Writing and Motherhood." 367-68.



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ally acceptable or conventional personality, the other externalizing the free, uninhibited, often criminal self."22

Gilbert and Gubar link the explosive violence of'" the soul's moments of escape'" that women writers continually imagine tor themselves to the mad double projected into their works:

For it is, after all, through the violence of the double that the female author enacts her own raging desire to escape male houses and male texts, while at the same time it is through the double's violence that anxious author articulates for herself the costly destructiveness of anger repressed until it can no longer be contained. (85)

Thus, using doubles may be a subterranean way of mediating protest, anger, an ideological wish or perspective. The unconventional double, whether mad or criminal, functions as eccentric or marginal with respect to the symbolic order. In Emecheta's text, even though it is Nnu Ego the "angelic woman" who becomes mad, Adaku compares with the madwoman in Gilbert and Gubar's theory. Their formulation is appropriate to the manner in which Adaku turns into the "monstrous" or "criminal" woman in the eyes of tradition. She functions in the text as an echo of that other smothered voice which does not sound loudly in Nnu Ego.

The Adaku trope has, then, the value of a sub-text that participates in the double-voiced discourse. Through Adaku, the narrative voice communicates what it does not via Nnu Ego. Adaku becomes the vector of that other tone of voice which distances itself radically from the patriarchal ethos. The doubling turns into an expression of double-voicedness, providing an outlet for the submerged story of self-definition, and questions the voice of authority. As Foucault says:

Discourse is not simply that which manitests (or hides) desire -it is also the object of desire; and since, as history constantly teaches us, discourse is not simply that which translates struggles or systems of domination, but is the thing for which and by which there is struggle, discourse is the power which is to be seized.23

--------------------------------
22 The Madwoman in the Attic, 361. See also a critique of Jane Eyre and the treatment of the creole Bertha Mason as the Other in Jean Rhys's novel The Wide Sargasso Sea, in Gayatri Chakravorty Spivak, "Three Women's Text and a Critique of Imperialism," Critical Inquiry 12.1 (1985): 243-63.

23 Michel Foucault, "The Order of Discourse," in Untying the Text: A Post-Structuralist Reader. ed. Rohert Young (London: Routledge & Kegan Paul. 1981): 62-64.


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The discourse that is mediated through Adaku can be assimilated to the manifestation of the object of the female subject's desire and her struggle to seize the power that discourse is.

The textual treatment of Adaku and Mama Abby partakes of the strategy of a discourse that attacks the male-dominated structure of traditional society and the encompassing colonial formation. That both strong independent figures are, as it were, backgrounded in the sub-textual layer of the narrative makes them understated presences. But this effect can foreground them for a feminist reading: one that seeks to unearth the silences buried in the text.

Adaku functions as a catalyst for Nnu Ego's reactions and a mirror in which the heroine can see her own image (her Other). Nnu Ego's most significant introspective moments occur in relation to Adaku. Furthermore, the fact that Adaku joins Nnaife as his second wife stresses the effects of polygamy on women who are subjected to it.

The heroine's reaction to the coming of Adaku as her husband's second wife lays bare the pain a woman may have to endure in such a situation. The handling of Nnu Ego's internal reaction to the odds confronting her, which surfaces now and again, seems so plausible to Lauretta Ngcobo that she commends the author for allowing the heroine to release "the full expression of jealousy":

Emecheta knows the hidden teelings of African Women and she voices them as perhaps no one has done before. Where African women have made a virtue of silent suffering, she exposes the conspiracy, insisting that temale complacency and acceptance of male domination, actually do not constitute the quintessence of femininity.24

Tradition recommends that women fetch a second or more wives for their husbands, and Nnu Ego's status as a senior wife requires composure and forbearance from her; but the "green-eyed monster" is at work inside her mind:


What had happened to her? Why had she become so haggard, so rough, so worn, when this one looked like a pool that had still to be disturbed? Jealousy, tear and anger seized Nnu Ego in turns. She hated this type of woman, who would flatter a man, depend on him, need him. Yes, Nnaife would like that. He had instinctively disliked her own independence, though he had gradually been forced to accept her. But now there was this new threat But now, this new menace [...] what was she to do'? (118)

-------------------------
24 "Four African Women Writers in Atrica Today," in South African Outlook (May 1984): 64-69

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Adaku appears in this instance as a mirror for Nnu Ego, as the desired Other, that which she is not. Beyond jealousy loom anger and the consciousness of her deprivation, impairing her fulfilment and tightening her bond to Nnaife.

The contrast between the two women is highlighted in the role each of them plays out, their different attitudes replicating the two poles of the dis course that The Joys of Motherhood constructs. This seems to reflect the ambivalence the African heroine is subjected to with regard to motherhood, selfhood and culture. Where Adaku spurns the conformism that is instrumental to Nnu Ego's subjection, the latter is constricted by motherhood. Within the house, Adaku challenges their husband, demanding an increase in their housekeeping money and control over Nnaife's drinking sprees, but Nnu Ego relents, hampering the bid to discipline him.

The polarity between Nnu Ego and Adaku is effected in the manner in which each of them comes to terms with Nnaife's absence. It allows Adaku's independence to bloom. She achieves comfortable financial autonomy, and starts a process of self-definition, whereas Nnu Ego remains attached to nurturing her children by petty trading, and panders to Ibuza value systems. It is significant that Nnu Ego loses her business advantage as a result of summons from her dying father. As she returns to the rural world, Adaku gains access to the new market economy. Her small trade steadily thrives, giving her a higher status than that of Nnu Ego, whom the narrative confines in a nursing role. The text introduces a reversal of roles which Nnu Ego cannot accept; she resolves to engage in the strenuous sale of firewood to maintain her children.

The sight of Adaku and others prospering in their trade causes Nnu Ego's pent up jealousy and self-introspection to explode. She is shown violating custom by refusing entry to her co-wife's visitor because of the glamour surrounding the latter. This incident is doubly significant. It re-enacts the specular effect Adaku has on Nnu Ego, just as it constitutes a dramatic treatment of the oppositional values represented by each character, thus enhancing the doubling. As it appears in the repercussions of this incident, namely in the judgement given by the male acquaintances to whom Adaku has referred the matter, tradition sides with Nnu Ego, the angelic figure and mother of sons, whereas Adaku is dismissed as a deficient woman. Male dominance and the value conferred on mothering male children as legitimation of a woman's status is disparaged by the narrator, who reports: "instead of laying the whole blame on Nnu Ego they made Adaku feel that since she had no son for the



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family she had no right to complain about her senior's conduct" (166). The speech of traditional patriarchy put in the mouth of one of the arbiters in his impeachment of Adaku derides its own ideology:

Our lite starts trom immortality and ends in immortality. If Nnaite had been married to only you, you would have ended his lite on this round of his visiting the earth. I know you have children, but they are girls, who in a tew years' time will go and build another man's immortality [...]. If I were in your shoes, I should go home and consult my chi to tind out why male offspring have been denied me. (166)

The consequence of this man's attitude is as important as the exposition of the ideology conveyed by his speech. It causes Adaku's rebellion against the oppressive customs, which resembles an enactment ofNnu Ego's own revolt. "My chi be damned!," she replies to Nnu Ego, "I am going to be a prostitute. Damn my chi I don't care for the life he or she gave me. I'm leaving here tomorrow with my girls. I am not going to Ibuza" (168). She walks out of the house, leaving behind a perplexed Nnu Ego, who is described, by a markedly gendered narrative voice, as a mother of three sons who "was supposed to be happy in her poverty, in her nail-biting agony, in her churning stomach, in her rags, in her cramped room" (167). The parting moment is a highly suggestive and bitterly ironic picture of motherhood:

"May your chi be your guide, Adaku." Nnu Ego whispered almost inaudibly as she crawled further into the urine-stained mats on her bug-ridden bed, enjoying the knowledge of her motherhood. (169)

Adaku is shown as a dignified woman with the will to alter the order of things in a gendered world. She uses her wealth to enrol her daughters in a good school so that they can "take their own chances in this world" (169). Here we see the implementation ofNnu Ego's angry realization ("Who made the law that we should not hope in our daughters?") noted earlier; an opportunity which Nnu Ego denied her own daughters for the benefit of their brothers.

The manner in which Adaku is constructed can be regarded as feminist in terms of an "images of women" analysis. The desire for a literature that offers role models for women was expressed by some early American feminists, and a text that placed Adaku at the centre, rather than Nnu Ego, would



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meet the expectation of such critics.25 It would no doubt produce a dramatic piece of feminist propaganda ifNnu Ego were to emerge from her troubles as a militant feminist. Nnu Ego is not shown to be tempered enough in the fire to question the traditional norms, despite her slow gradual understanding of her plight within the world of the novel. Her portrayal is illustrative of the dilemma of the African female novelists which emerges through the heroines they create, a dilemma resolved in Emecheta's text by means of "the double."

Adaku is one of those rare rural illiterate female characters who rises out of her social condition and realizes herself in such a potent way. Of course, her living in the city has been a determinant in her change, but we are told that she has always been a purposeful person. Moreover, Adaku, unlike Mariama Ba's educated feminist and middle-class protagonists in Une si longue lettre, started from scratch.26 Her challenging of the status quo endorses the notion that women in her circumstances can wake into consciousness and shrug off the yoke. She and Mama Abby are the alternatives to the type of motherhood represented in Nnu Ego's development. Through Mama Abby, the text states the importance of being literate, and also that motherhood can be lived differently: a son can take care of his mother. Adaku's experience suggests that a woman can conquer individual freedom by shaking off the shackles Nnu Ego has never been able to rid herself of until she dies her lonely death.

Adaku's liberatory move enhances the sub-text of resistance inscribed in The Joys of Motherhood as Nnu Ego's double, through whom "the perceived self-division of the female writer is reflected in the self-division of the heroines and the language of female-authored texts.',27 In creating Adaku, Emecheta seems to be compensating for the failure of the central character to realize her aspiration to selfl1ood in spite of her growth. This secondary character partakes of the representation of what may be called the dual sub jectivity of the contemporary African fictional heroine. In juxtaposing these two figures, Emecheta constructs a double-voiced discourse through which she outlines the predicament of the new African woman in whom feminist consciousness needs to go hand-in-hand with awareness of and commitment

-------------------------------

25 See, for example, Images of Women in Fiction: Feminist Perspectives, ed. Susan Koppelman Comillon (Bowling Green Ohio: Bowling Green Popular Press, 1972).

26 Mariama Ba, Une si longue lettre (Dakar: Les nouvelles editions a!ricaines, 1980).

27 Pam Morris, Literature and Feminism: An Introduction (Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1993): 85.


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to collective social interest. Most critics of Emecheta have observed in her fiction what Carol Boyce Davies expresses: "In Emecheta, the true African feminist is revealed in the consciousness of political oppression of colonialism, Western domination and societal domination of a sexist nature." And Boyce Davies expands on what teminism means tor most African women:

Women seek to liberate themselves from the various types of oppression and to exercise individual choice and are as Lloyd Brown suggests engaged in. "striving to achieve a fulfilling sense of themselves, as distinctive human personalities while remaining loyal to all the encompassing community around them." Atrican women writers in detailing the submerged realities of African women's lives are participating in the struggle to achieve the correct balance.28

~

The type of mother represented by Nnu Ego finds it difficult to gain access to the symbolic order of language, culture, of the law --which, in The Joys of Motherhood, are represented by the traditional culture and the colonial formation. The treatment of colonialism is an important aspect of the text, its effects on women as mothers being dramatized in the experiences of the main character and her husband. This goes along with a clear stance against colonialism.

The Meers and the other whites for whom Nnaife works function as archetypal colonialists. The relationships of the Meers to their servants are the metonymic representation of those between colonizers and colonized, To preserve his job, Nnaife must conform to his employers' religious principles, and must conceal Nnu Ego's desperately wanted pregnancy, since they have not yet been married in church (50). Conscription of unprepared colonial subjects to fight in an alien war is condemned in women's voices, as is done by Adaku, the second wife, when Naife is abducted by the press gang: "The British own us, just like God does, and just like God they are free to take any of us when they wish" (148). To this the narrator adds that in those days Nigerians had no voice; "No paper would report what had taken place; even if it were reported, how many of those affected could not read, and how many could afford to buy a newspaper?"

-------------------------------
28 Carole Boyce Davies. "Motherhood in the Works of Igbo Male and Female Writers." in Boyce Davies, Ngambika: Studies of Women in African Literature, 255



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The indictment of colonialism is more obvious in the court hearing following the arrest of Nnaife for assault. The episode suggests the irrelevance of the foreign judicial apparatus to the people on whom it has been imposed. The whole judiciary system is shown as alien to the defendants; both Nnaife and Nnu Ego are ensnared in its pitfalls. The trial functions like that of the patriarchal tradition itself, and embodies at the same time the law of the father, the symbolic order of colonial rule. There, Nnu Ego's acknowledgement to Adaku that Nnaife owns them is a replica of the words Adaku uses to characterize the colonial situation. Colonialism reposes on the patriarchal notions of authority and suppression. It has the same prerogatives over its subjects as colonized males have over their womenfolk, who suffer both sorts of oppression. Cordelia gives expression to this early in the story while explaining to Nnu Ego the irony of their husbands' situation:


Men are too busy being white men's servants to be men. We women mind the home. Not our husbands. Their manhood has been taken away from them. The shame of it is that they don't know it. All they see is the money, shining white man's money [...]. They are all slaves, including us. If their masters treat them badly, they take it out on us. The only difference is that they are given some pay for their work, instead of having been bought. (51)

This criticism, which echoes that of the patriarchal assumptions regulating gender relationship in the nascent modern society of Nigeria, is effected more strongly through Adaku, Nnaife's second wife, whose experience of motherhood seems to be (in Suleiman's words again) "a privileged means of entry into the order of language and culture." She is portrayed as a dissident figure who has grasped the essence of the new order and has, unlike Nnu Ego, succeeded in wresting her autonomy from the patriarchy. The African female subject has to struggle against the patriarchal culture's constricted social formations and their hegemonic economic power. This is clear from most of Emecheta's writing; and the thematic drift of her later novels inscribes this
concern boldly in terms of a double yoke.

Destination Biafra
As was seen in the previous section, there is a shift from documentary novels such as In the Ditch and Second-Class Citizen to more fictionalized narratives such as The Bride Price, The Slave Girl and The Joys of Motherhood.

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Destination Biafra constitutes another stage in Emecheta' s writing -here, a woman is at the centre of political events. The author creates Debbie Ogedemgbe in order to mediate the role and problems of women in a modem society at war. As a protagonist who has been conditioned both by modernity and by exposure to tertiary education, Debbie is aware of the ideals of women's liberation, and Emecheta refers to her as her "dream woman" in her introduction to Head Above Water. Yet it is also of considerable import that the novel is concerned with political developments in the post-independence Nigeria in which Debbie evolves. This novel, whose subject Emecheta defines as a masculine one, is thus a fictional treatment of recent history: the Nigerian Civil War or the Biafra war, which took place between 27 May 1967 and 15 January 1970. It imaginatively re-creates the history of the early years of Nigeria's independence. The political and military characters are all versions of people recognizable in Nigeria's political history. Such "world historical individuals" in Nigerian political annals appear under the names of Chief Odumosu and Chief Durosaro, supporters of Momoh, and as Dr Ozimba and Dr Eze, who rallied to Abosi, the future leader of Nigeria, in Biatra.29 Their anonymity stops at the pseudonyms they are given in the novel. Most of the events are genuine as well.

The Nigerian Civil War has produced a growing literary corpus. Nigerian writers of different generations have produced fictional versions of that traumatic national experience -among the older generation are Achebe, Amadi, Ekwensi and Soyinka, while Emecheta and Festus Iyayi can be named as representative of the younger writers. Just as the literary production is sizeable, so is the handling diverse. It ranges from Elechi Amadi's account in Sunset in Biafra: A Civil War Diary (1973) to the allegorical treatment found in Kole Omotoso' s The Combat (1972). All of the works generated or
inspired by the war reflect various male points of view. It is chiefly with Flora Nwapa and Emecheta that women's views become prominent and that gender is seriously integrated as a concern.

Flora Nwapa's short novel Never Again recounts the fall of Owerri, a sanctuary of Biafran forces.30 This chronicle of the last days of the Biafran

------------------------
29 Georg Lukacs uses the phrase "world historical individual" in The Historical Novel (Lincoln & London: Nebraska UP, 1983) to designate historical figures used in novels. It is a convenient phrase which may apply to the characters mentioned here even though Emecheta resorts to fictitious names, for understandable reasons.

30 Flora Nwapa. Never Again (Enugu: Nwamife. 1979)

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regime describes both the disarray of the local army and militia and women's attitudes to this in those moments when any sign of reluctance to serve Biafra is viewed as amounting to sabotage or collaboration with the Federal forces. The horrors of war as experienced by women and children are depicted in oppressive detail in this compact tale. Nwapa's narrator does not conceal her disapproval of Biafran troops. There is criticism of the politicians who started the war and of the Biafran army abusively commandeering civilians' assets in the name of patriotism. Women appear as much more sensible than men, and as critical of the erratic strategy in force when Ogwuta, a vital sanctuary of Biafran resistance, is on the brink of collapse.

The female viewpoint on the war is conveyed in Nwapa's novella by a first-person narrator, Kate, whereas the adventures of Emecheta's heroine, the female officer Debbie Ogedemgbe, are recounted by a third-person narrator. These different narrative strategies are illustrative of the nature of each writer's experience of the war. Nwapa' s is first-hand, while Emecheta bases her fiction on research and informants. The Civil War may even have deterred Emecheta from returning to Nigeria!! She was nonetheless concerned about the events occurring there, and her novel is testimony to this fact. The narratorial difference accords with a remark Chidi Amuta makes in his study of the literature of the Nigerian Civil War, in which he identifies a "marked difference between the works of these writers who experienced the war from inside Biafra and those of writers who were outside." Amuta finds in the works of the former (Ike, Munonye, Achebe et al.) "a certain directness and prosaic immediacy," whereas "those of the other writers like Soyinka and Clark tend to be more distant and appeal mainly at the level of ideals.,,32

Destination Biafra would appear to locate itself in this latter framework, being basically informed by ideals. The novel attempts a fictional reconstruction of the transition from colonialism to international sovereignty and engages in a critique of home and foreign policy in Nigeria. "The Biafran war," Emecheta says in her note to the reader, is "the main background and I have peopled the foreground with figures and ideas drawn from history, experience and imagination." Where Amuta observes: "Because of his [her] proximity with the history of the war, the Nigerian writer on the war is faced

---------------------

31 Tunde Obadina, "A Worshipper from Afar: An Interview with a Nigerian Novelist, Buchi Emecheta, Living in Britain," Punch (Nigeria; 17 March 1979).

32 "Literature of the Civil War," in Perspectives on Nigerian Literature: 1700 to the Present, ed. Yemi Ogunbiyi (Lagos: Guardian Books Nigeria. 1988). vol I: 91


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with the problem of disciplining history to obey his [her] artistic purpose,"33 it seems that Emecheta also disciplines history to obey a political and propagandistic purpose. It recounts the untold stories of women in the war and promotes feminist ideals energetically. Constructing a character like Debbie as the main protagonist and making her evolve among the male wielders of power -army officers, government officials, and heads of states -is a way of penetrating and challenging the prevailing male discursive formation.

Looking at the critical reception of Destination Biafra, it appears that it has been considered as lacking in some areas such as character delineation and the fusion of the personal with the historical. Dieter Riemenschneider observes that Emecheta, concerned with the fundamental question of what freedom really meant for Nigeria and her citizens, extends the meaning of the term beyond its political aspect and reclaims its human dimension as the freedom of African women and men in general. "However," writes Riemenschneider, "Destination Biafra does not quite convince us the way A Wreath
for the Maidens [by John Munonye] does because Emecheta fails to fuse the two levels on which the story is based, the historical and the individual."34

I would argue that the novel moves between the categories of the personal and the political. Debbie is created as a vehicle for an ideal rooted in women's capacities and rights and in the displacement of patriarchal bias. She seems in some ways to embody the slogan "the personal is the political." The relationship of the personal to the political is variously conceived; some feminists wish to emphasize the personal -women's experience as women over the social.

It means that women's distinctive experience as women occurs within that sphere that has been socially lived as the personal -private, emotional, interiorized. particular, individuated, intimate --so that what it is to know the politics of women's situation is to know women's lives.35

However, there seems to be a consensus that women's subjectivity is predetermined by the social system, and that all domains of life are political, all political issues personal. Some feminists think that "the personal is not poli-

--------------------------
3] Buchi Emecheta, Destination Biafra (London: Collins/Fontana African edition,
1983): 89. Further page references to this edition are in the main text.

34 "The Biatra War in Nigerian Literature." Journal of Commonwealth Literature 18.1
(l983):58.

35 Catherine A. MacKinnon, "Feminism. Marxism, Method, and the State: An Agenda
for Theory ." Signs 7.3 (1982): 534-35


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tical enough," stressing the importance of sociohistorical determinants and the significance of the oppression of larger groups in terms of class, race and ethnicity.36 Destination Biafra attempts to merge the personal in the political through the heroine's experience in the troubled atmosphere of early Nigerian
independence.

Ben Okri perceives the first part of the book as smacking of newspaper reports, with excessively long stretches of dialogue. He would rather see

the thin fictional veil of real life characters in the novel [...] drawn sharply enough to enable one to believe in them; they work better if one can imagine the real faces of the personalities superimposed over the real life characters.

The creation of Debbie as a fictional character also suffers from stiffness and lack of depth. She is drawn rather artificially, and appears as a character whose contours are not wholly in line with the role and ideas represented by her. There is a mismatch between what she is meant to embody and the function the narrative voice bestows on her. The book's strength is what Okri rightly sees as its attempt "to weave together many important themes into one single novel, an attempt which shows a vision which is altogether missing in much of Nigerian fiction that has emerged on the subject ofwar.,,37
Katherine Frank's assessment of Debbie underlines the limitations of the work, but acknowledges the appeal of Debbie's statement at the end of the novel to "the ranks of feminist critics." "But after the cheering has died down," she writes, "we have to concede that there is a contrived quality not merely to this closing scene but to the characterization of Debbie throughout the book.,,38 Frank points to the problem Debbie poses for the reader and critic, which is related to the larger issue of evaluative criteria, raising such questions as:

How are we to judge a work we tind politically admirable and true but aesthetically simplistic, empty, or boring? What do we make of those characters whose credos and pronouncements we endorse but whose human reality we tind negligible? (27)

-----------------------------------
36 Elizabeth Fox-Genovese, "The Personal is not Political Enough," Marxist Perspectives 2 (Summer 1972), quoted in Cheris Kramarae & Paula A. Treichler, A Feminist Dictionary (London: Pandora, 1985): 334.

37 Ben Okri, "Women in a Male War," West Africa 3371 (15 March 1982): 727-29.

38 Katherine Frank, "Women Without Men: The Feminist Novel in Africa," Women in
African Literature Today (African Literature Today 15; London: James Currey, 1987): 2R-29.


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But Frank clearly approves of the message; despite the faint blemishes in the creation of Debbie, hailing Destination Biafra as "possessing an historical importance in the development of African writing by women":

It steps beyond the contines of domestic life to imagine the role women have to play in the political struggles of their countries and, finally, whatever her flaws as a tictional creation, Debbie Ogedemgbe is the most compelling example we have of the new woman in Africa. She embodies a liberating ideal of potentiality, of a rich, active, and fulfilling future for African women, and it is an autonomous future she embraces, a future without men. (28-29)

Leaving aside the critic's fitting Debbie into the grid ofexclusivism central to her essay (a topic to be discussed in later chapters of this book), it follows from the foregoing that the novel does not open itself readily to evaluative criticism that privileges the aesthetic. Any approach that neglects the ideological function of the novel falls short of appreciating its significance. Destination Biafi'a is important socially and historically, and effective in terms of its agit-prop function.

~

As a fictionalized version of recent historical events, of course, Destination Biafra has some of the trappings of the historical novel, as theorized by Georg Lukacs, who, Linda Hutcheon writes,

felt that the historical novel could enact the historical process by presenting a microcosm which generalizes and concentrates. The protagonist therefore should be a type, a synthesis of the general and the particular, of "all the humanly and socially essential determinants."39

The first part of the novel seems to generalize and concentrate; it initiates the constitution of a fictional heroine who is a synthesis of the general and the particular. Debbie is represented as a quite particular subject whose construction runs counter to the type common in the discursive formation in which she is placed. She resembles the protagonists of historiographic metafiction, "the ex-centrics, marginalized peripheral figures of fictional history," to use Hutcheon's term (114). Debbie might appear 'ex-centric' to the reader, as she

--------------------
39 Linda Hutcheon, A Poetics of Po.,tmodernism: History. Theory and Fiction (New
York & London: Routledge, 1988): 113. See Georg Lukacs, The Historical Novel (Lincoln & [,olldon: Nebraska IJP. 19R3).



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does to some other characters in the world of the novel. Through Debbie, the story brings women as marginalized subjects into the central sphere of politics and war by resisting male/female, power/subjection dichotomies.

The novel's structure suggests the binary division between history and fiction, which is erased by the imagined story of Debbie's involvement, in the same way as the narrative attempts to undo what Cixous calls "hierarchized oppositions" by virtue of the role it assigns to Debbie.40 The first part, ending with the dates 28 May and 30 May 1967, is emphatically history-based; while the second, though relying mostly on actual events, is more fiction-oriented, and focuses on Debbie. She bridges the two worlds, fusing the two spheres. With her entry on the scene, "the binary opposition between fiction and fact is no longer relevant: in any differential system, it is the assertion of the space between the entities that matters."41

Emecheta uses Debbie to offset the social construction of gender. This amounts to stating that if women at this point in history were debarred from national affairs by masculine hegemony and their experience of the war glossed over, their narrative can still be imagined and inscribed in the "space between the entities." Such entities may also be read within the novel as the First Republic of Nigeria and the State of Biafra; just as they can be imagined as dichotomized male/female, gendered subjectivities. In Emecheta' s shaping of her, Debbie, as a marker of liberal energies and aspirations, de constructs phallocentrism:

If woman has always functioned "within the discourse of man. a signifier that has always referred back to the opposite signifier which annihilates its specific energy and diminishes or stifles its very different sounds, it is time for her to dislocate this "within," to explode it, turn it around, and seize it; to make it hers, containing it, taking it in her own mouth, biting that tongue with her own teeth to invent for herself a language to get inside of.42

What Emecheta does in Destination Biafra is part of a sustained programme in her fiction to challenge patriarchal assumptions, this time employing a heroine equipped with a modern education. The novel offers a view from within, looking at the plight of the voiceless victims of the Civil War who

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40 "Sorties," in New French Feminisms, ed. Marks & de Courtivron, 91.

41 Paul de Man, quoted by Linda Hutcheon, A Poetics of Postmodernism.

42 Helene Cixous. "The laugh of the Medusa." in New French Feminisms.



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would be its real female heroes.43 Emecheta's novel highlights the story of those silent sufferers via Debbie, by means of whom the writer radically engages international imperialist powers and the neocolonial elite.


~


Destination Biafra sets outs the motives that led to the partition of the country and to the Civil War, It asserts the essential unity of Nigeria through Debbie, who identifies with neither of the warring factions, Nor does she belong to or support any of the major contending ethnic groups. Emecheta looks back into the earlier period of the transfer of administrative power from British officials to Nigerians. This allows her to underline the responsibilities of the colonial administration in the further developments that result in exacerbating tribal rivalry, which is exploited by local politicians animated by personal ambition and lust for power.

Greed permeates the novel. It motivates all the parties involved in the power-play and struggle of interests over the nascent nation. Alan Grey, the British military counsellor, a representative of imperialist ideology, is there to further the colonial mission of the British Governor. All his actions are shown as being motivated by a will to safeguard his country's interests in independent Nigeria and maintain it as a game preserve, out of the reach of other international rivals. This design is re-enacted in the way Alan plays on the sensitivities of the elite with whom he deals.

Alan embodies the duplicity of colonialism in its new guise. He pursues his government's interests according to the policy stated at the beginning of the novel in a scene set in the then Governor's residence. Alan butters up to Saka Momoh, of whom Emecheta is very critical. The figure of Alan serves also to debunk the other hegemonic international powers like the "Chinese and Russians' friends' hovering about" and out of whose clutches he wishes to keep Momoh. Similarly, Alan functions as a tool to expose those "friends" whom the Biafran leader Abosi has collected in France, Ireland and Eastern Europe, "who would jump on the bandwagon of drilling oil from the East" (I. 1.4-15).Emecheta extends her exposition of imperialism to culture, and has Grey travel to the Mid-West Region to collect traditional artistic works of worship

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43 I am appropriating here Festus Iyayi's term as used in the title of his novel Heroes, which novel I examine shortly in connection with Destination Biafra



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anathematized by the new religion. Here the narrative wryly uncovers the perfidy of colonialism in the Nigerian vicar's determination to burn the relics in obedience to the precepts of a faith brought to him by the people Alan serves. Ironically, it is the same Alan who rescues the objets d'art which "are going to adorn the museums and art galleries of his country" (92). This in itself is a subject of controversy outside fiction, as can be seen in the growing number of claims on the part of several former colonies for the statues, masks, and other pieces of their cultural patrimony of which they were dispossessed and which are kept in metropolitan musuems. Alan Grey functions as a well-differentiated and delineated exemplar of the paternalist and patriarchal nature of colonial masters, glimpses of whom have already been offered in The Joys of Motherhood, for instance. He perpetuates these characteristics in his role as ubiquitous watchdog attentive to both sides while siding with neither, having as his sole aim the maintenance of the control and influence enjoyed in earlier times of colonial glory.

The country's political leaders are shown to be no better than Grey. They appear to be mindful of their own interests, to the detriment of the Nigerian people. This type is portrayed in Samuel Ogedemgbe, the heroine's father and one of that breed of African politicians designated to replace colonial rulers in the newly independent countries. The corrupt Chief Ogedemgbe wallows in his wealth, and uses his political position to run a fraudulent and prosperous business in connivance with foreign capital. The other tribal and political figures are not spared Emecheta's criticism, either. Nor are the group of Sandhurst-trained officers who plot the coup that ends the fragile Nigerian First Republic, with dire consequences for the precarious ethnopolitical stability of the country.

The officers' plan to cleanse Nigeria by way of a gory takeover is treated in the text in a dubious way. The narrative voice reports their action with mixed feelings. Their anticolonial position is mediated through Abosi, the future leader of Biafra, and seems to be endorsed by the narrator. He defines their purpose to rescue the whole of Nigeria in these words:


I would rather say our destination is "Biafra." since as far as 1 am concerned we're not yet independent. We sent away one set of masters, without realizing that they had left their stooges behind. Even the matches we use in our kitchens come trom abroad. I think this country needs a military respite, and so to Biafra we will go. Destination Biatra! (60)


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The novel prefigures this period of Nigerian history early in the narrative by means of metaphoric language grounded in the female field of reference matrimony, gestation, and birth. These images are all connected with the destiny of Nigeria, in the same way as rape and Debbie are assimilated to Nigeria later in the text. Thus Abosi's and Juliana's wedding party, which is interrupted by news of serious political unrest in the western part of the country, becomes symbolic of the hindering of federal state unity. The narra
tor reports that at Ibadan the police could not stop "the mini Civil War."
"That was why Chijioke Abosi had to leave his new bride, and why their wedding cake was uncut; and that was how the country was made aware that the honeymoon after Independence was over" (51).

The stillbirth of the state of Biafra is similarly prefigured by the miscarriage that Juliana is enduring at the moment when Abosi promises to break away if the Aburi talks fail (98). Emecheta extends the figure of childbirth and growth related to Biafra into the ephemeral life of baby Biatra, a child born during the war (212).

Parturition serves to effect a further trope by which the criticism of Saka Momoh, the head of the Federal government, is compounded. His wife, Elizabeth, gives birth to "a deformed piece of humanity" (203). The narrator points to this birth as if to identify Momoh' s actions in Biafra as monstrous. This event significantly coincides "with the day he was to be honoured as General of the Nigerian Army." The substance of the metaphor is heralded as soon as Elizabeth starts into labour:

One look at his wite told him that this was not a case of ordering nature to act quickly. Neither was it a case of being able to use the money from Nigeria's black gold. The thought that each child who had died in Biafra may have cost its parents this much or even much more did not cross Momoh's mind. All he wanted was the safety of his own wite and child. (202)

The use of reproductive imagery reinforces the parallel between Nigeria's plight and Elizabeth's labour pains. It equally intensifies the criticism of the ruling elite, which uses the country's oil for their own ends, and attacks the actions of the federal leadership in Biafra. The narrator indicts Momoh and all that he represents for their selfishness and lack of consideration for the people.
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Emecheta also documents women's status in upper-class Nigerian society via her depiction of the leadership on both sides. Gender relationships within this social category are exposed as the narrator reports on the leaders' attitudes to their wives and the position of these women in the raging political power struggle. The wives of the leaders are ghettoized. Elizabeth, wife of the head of state, is dismissed by her husband for commenting on the war situation articulated in the conversation between Momoh and Grey (199-200). Stella Ogedemgbe, too, had had to be amenable so long as her minister-husband was alive. In Debbie's view, she still bears the stigmata of twenty-five years of being the "wife of a domineering man who took it upon himself to have the last word on everything that went on around him, including his wife" (110).

Dr Ozimba, described as suspicious of over-educated women, will not heed his wife's opinion about the fallacious information which Radio Biafra broadcasts to raise people's spirits, and admonishes her to silence:


as she looked at her husband, fury swelled her throat, making her momentarily as ugly as a toad. Many, many things which she would have liked to tell this man forced themselves back into her belly like a lump of vomit that would not come out. (226)


The act of self-suppression described here seems to be a common practice among the statesmen's wives. Elina, the wife of Dr Eze, who remains faithful to the Biafran cause after Dr Ozimba's defection, worries about her husband's boundless optimism even when Biafra has been losing the war, and feels pity at his masculine short-sightedness. Elina expresses the women's view in this pithy rhetorical question: "How could grown men make such blunders, and yet elevate themselves with such arrogance that one could not reach them to tell them the truth?" (253). In Elina's voice, Emecheta interrogates gendered views about responsibility and the myth of male power and perspicacity. Elina's point of view subverts the patriarchal notion of women's short-sightedness, and the text as a whole shows women as more sensible than the male hierarchy, just as it emphatically condemns their exclusion from national issues and decision-making.

The territorial division of power along gender lines appears clearly in the treatment of Abosi, whose sexist prejudice is shown in the way he dismisses Debbie's mission with this patronizing remark: "What could you have done, just you, little you?" (239). Through Abosi, the text disparages the phallocentric discourse denying women agency and a voice. Later, in a telephone



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communication, Abosi reminds her "that she was a woman and that a good woman should do what she was told and not ask too many questions" (244).

Salihu Lawal, by means of whom the novel ridicules a type of officer, rounds off the disparaging picture of the artisans of the war. This criticism culminates in the scene in which Colonel Lawal, who is in charge of "Operation Mosquito," aimed at stamping out Biafran resistance, is shown raping Debbie to impress on her that she is "nothing but a woman, an ordinary woman" (175). Rape, recurrent in the novel, is part of the untold or suppressed stories of the war that the novel exposes. Women, girls and nuns are sexually assaulted and killed. The rape of Debbie is important, since, towards the close of the story, it serves to define her attitude towards Alan in her relation with him. In the manner in which Alan recoils once he learns that she has been raped by ordinary soldiers, just as Lawal did when he heard the same thing. Debbie discovers his pretence and chides him for it:

Funny, I had expected the son of Sir Fergus Grey to behave ditferently trom an unsophisticated Moslem African, but you reacted exactly like Salihu Lawal. Tell me, would it have made any difference if I had been raped by white soldiers? (243)

Most significant in the novel is the manner in which Debbie is represented. Emecheta makes of her the first female officer in the Nigerian army along with her friend Barbara Teteku or Babs. As already indicated, Emecheta writes in her introduction to Head Above Water that Debbie is her dream woman and Destination Biafra is based on ideas and ideals. But Emecheta's image of her ideal woman would be incomplete if it were uniquely restricted to Debbie and not attentive to Babs. By means of Babs's presence though transient --the novel to some extent implements the doubling device that was seen earlier in the Nnu Ego-Adaku pairing. Debbie and Barbara are complementary representation of the new African woman in Emecheta's vision. They are university graduates, and are determined to assert their freedom as women and play an active part in national affairs.

Debbie's political consciousness is not made sharp enough for her to grasp fully the issues at stake at the dawn of the secession of Biafra. It is Babs who analyzes the implications perceptively:

The East alone can't fight the rest of the country. any tool can see that. Any tool of a woman, perhaps, but not men. least of all army men turned politicians. The women and children who would be killed by bombs and guns

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would simply be statistics, war casualties. But tor the soldier-politicians, the traders in arms, who only think of their personal gain, it would be the chance of a litetime. And the politicians who started it all can pay their \yay to Europe or America and wait until it has all blown over. (109)

Barbara's voice also re-states the point about male stupidity expressed earlier through Elina. This statement underlies the whole narrative, and is perhaps the most powerful instance of rejection of the war by women, who are shown as more perceptive than men but are sequestered by historical and social determinants. The judgement passed on secession is placed strategically in the mouth of a neutral entity, Barbara. Like Debbie, she is created as someone who identifies with neither side in the war.

Debbie is represented as honest, romantic and idealistic; and so dedicated to justice that she can accept the murder of her father without resentment. There is a gap between the ideas put in her mind and the attitudes she adopts.

She suspects the designs of Grey and other foreign powers, whom she lmows from the very start will come back and befriend the winner once the Civil War ends (92), but remains irresolute. Again it is Babs who goads her:

"Wake up, Debbie, my triend! Didn't you see that picture taken at Aburi, and didn't you see that all the taces in the background were white? Since when have we white Nigerians? And the guns, even your rifle there --are they made in Nigeria? What about the oil -are we going to refine it here, use it here? You know the truth as well as I do; and believe me I don't like what I think is
coming." (110)

Debbie is portrayed as a muddled-up character, not clear about the extent of her commitment. If one were to entertain monolithic expectations about a character, then one would have to say that she does not live up to the burden her creator places on her shoulders. Her gradual ideological awareness will appear once she is considered as a subject in process, whose subjectivity develops as the narrative unfolds. At at one stage, for examp !.e , she understands Alan's divide-and-rule tactics and confronts him about the game he is playing, and about the part he played at Aburi and in changing Momoh's mind; but, emotionally overcome, she succumbs to his sly suggestions. At the end of their talk Debbie's enlightenment does not go beyond saying, "I'm not doubting you as a person ...but it's just the attitude of your government and what you stand for. I can't just reconcile the two" (115).

Debbie's articulation of her subjectivity is located mainly in her journey to the East, especially when the narrative shows her among the women and


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children refugees. Her mission to Biafra is used to document women's predicament in a situation of war. The journey to the East in the thick of the war is equivalent to a quest, and forms a vital part of the novel. It is where the narrative shifts its class focus by concentrating on the plight of the masses and privileging a war chronicle from a woman's standpoint. The suffering these women and their children endure, their own struggles, their victory over the sorrow and devastation imposed on them, and their perception of the war -all this is conveyed through their actions and voices. This event also serves the purpose of documenting the lot of the people in the Mid-Western Region.


~


This enforced descent allows the upper-class-born heroine to mingle with ordinary women and share their fate while travelling with them at the height of the battle. The experience such women have of the war contrasts sharply with that of the wealthy women connected to the ruling class whom Emecheta uses to expose the "attack trade," the name given to the smuggling of goods and food products into the Biafran black market, and to stress the class factor. Her treatment of this dangerous illicit business reveals an unsympathetic attitude that differs from the manner in which Flora Nwapa presents the women contractors in One is Enough. They are "attack trade" veterans now in control of the business world into which Amaka, the heroine, is anxious to be, and will be, sworn.44 Debbie's trek through the bush in the company of ordinary people is shown as having telling consequences for her vision of life and her roots. It is also a means by which Emecheta extends her denunciation of the Nigerian bourgeoisie on both sides. For, while the sons and daughters of the wealthy class can secure a haven in Britain, and those in Biafra are safely smuggled out to evade conscription, as in the case of Ozimbas and Ezes, Emecheta makes Debbie embark on a voyage of self-discovery. This quest reasserts the opposing values the new African woman has to reconcile: the need to heed national realities; and the need to assert her identity outside the patriarchal norms, as has been suggested in her decision to become a soldier, in a bid to escape male-defined gender roles. As the narrative of the journey unfolds, the ideology championed by the heroine, such as "doing more than child breeding and rearing and being a passive wife. [...J as colourless as her poor mother" (45),

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44 Plora Nwapa. One is Enough (Enugu: Tana Press. 1981): 49-50



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turns into a new perception. The woman as soldier becomes a quasi-mother, but against the conventional pattern.

This is shown in various ways through minor incidents like trying to tie a child on her back, the difficulty of which causes a sense of inadequacy that is made worse by the women's gibes. "What kind of African woman was she, indeed? ," she chides herself (191). The narrative situation here points up her feeling of 'otherness,' something already impressed on her by the reactions of males she has met, from condescension to rape. The way in which the narrator registers the loneliness Debbie feels and the gap her status creates between her and her companions makes evident both her' otherness' and social separateness, even among the women:


Her education, the imported division of class, still stood in the way. She was trying so hard to shake it off, to belong, but at times like this she knew that achieving complete acceptance was indeed a formidable task. These women would only accept her if they did not know her real background, so she had to keep silent about her store of past experiences. (211)

This event narrativizes the relations between educated African women and the larger number of ordinary working women. In Debbie's awareness of and consequent sloughing off of her snug past --shoes decorated with real gold and the fine 'been-to' accent which filled her parents with pride (44) --there appears what, in revolutionary writing, has been termed intellectual suicide. The horrors of war and the social determination of values are shown from her perspective as she walks with the women and children, witnesses murders and childbirth in the bush, and watches children starving to death and women burying the dead.

The chapter called "Women's War," a title found again in The Rape of Shavi, enhances the narrative of women by highlighting their solidarity and strength, which stimulate Debbie's growing self-awareness. It is the women's resources, discipline and commitment to each other's plight that are insisted on most, along with the idea that men are dispensable. Their determination embodied by Uzoma and again expressed in the five hundred women who have organized in an autonomous militia to defend themselves from the soldiers of both sides -heartens Debbie and steels her. All of this she records in her notes for the manuscript of the "entire story of the women's experience of the war" which she will call "Destination Biafra" (223, 246). Thus it is well into the book that we find the story, in the manner of a meta-narrative, suggesting its own creation as being Debbie's own constructed narrative,


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which is presented as a forbidden discourse to be concealed and codified, as she does in her manuscript, which must be hidden away in order to survive.

Debbie's youth and ambition, the rape she undergoes, her will to survive and to work for unity: these are all components of a frequent trope tor Atrica in male literature. But Emecheta reworks it to grant her heroine a degree of agency that prevents her representation from resembling an all-suffering mother Africa or Nigeria, though this is the way in which she has mostly been shown to the world. Debbie's love relationship with Alan Grey is a transparent metaphor for British-Nigerian relations. Grey exploits Debbie in many ways, just as colonial and neocolonial territories and subjects were and are used. As much is implied in the scene where he entrusts her with the mission to persuade the Biafran leader to surrender:

"Do your woman bit tonight [...]. Abosi used to fancy you, I used to see the desire in his eyes when he talked to you at Government House in Lagos [...] Well, use that part of you to make him do what you say." (255)

As has been seen, throughout the story males have seen in Debbie an instrument of use in their contest. Immediately after the first coup, Abosi saw in her resolve to enlist in the army an opportunity to secure arms from Britain, thanks to her connection with the white officers in the Nigerian army, Alan Grey especially.

Unlike Emecheta's heroines in the African trilogy, who fail to provide upbeat images at the close -where they are either killed, as Aku-nna and Nnu Ego are, or shown enslaved, as Ojebeta is -Debbie is represented at the end of the novel in a changed light, perhaps because of her education. She finally realizes that Abosi and his like are still colonized and need to undergo decolonizing when she fails to blow up the South African plane evacuating Abosi. And Grey's double-dealing likewise dawns on her in the rather selfcongratulatory speech that Emecheta puts in her mouth here:


"I am not like him [Abosi], a black white man; I am a woman and a woman of Africa. I am a daughter of Nigeria and if she is in shame, I shall stay and mourn with her in shame. No, I am not ready yet to become the wife of an exploiter of my nation." (258)


Her notifying Alan of her intentions here is conveyed as a kind of stocktaking of experience, and reifies the metonymic and propagandistic function attached to her construction: that is to say, she is representative not only of Nigeria but of the whole of Africa:


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"And there is my manuscript to publish. I shall tell [...] orphans the story of how a tew ambitious soldiers from Sandhurst tried to make their dream a reality. Goodbye, Alan. I didn't mind your being my male concubine, but Atrica will never stoop to being your wife; to meet you on an equal basis, like companions, yes, but never again to be your slave." (258-59)

The figurative treatment of Debbie as a character by means of whose relationship with Alan the Britain-Nigeria connection is enacted replicates the slavery parable that Emecheta constructs in the trilogy, particularly in The Slave Girl. One recalls the narrator's parting words, which assimilate Ojebeta's predicament to the slavery in which Britain was implicated. In Destination Biafra the reader is shown Nigeria just "changing masters," to use Emecheta's phrase, in the same way as Ojebeta was. The national elite who took charge of the country on its "sham independence" reveal themselves as self-seekers (117). The war enterprise finally proves to have been engineered by ambitious politicians, generals and top businessmen.


~

The same idea is found in a more recent novel among the body of literature that the Civil War continues to generate: Festus Iyayi's Heroes. In this book, the reader, in the manner of the main character, Osime Iyere, gradually realizes the extent to which the working people on both warring sides are manipulated and drawn into a war which they fight for indolent warlords (greedy and corrupt senior officers), politicians, traditional rulers, and other profiteers such as contractors. The novel encapsulates this in two memorable statements that broaden the perspective supplied by Destination Biafra, The first of these is made by a colleague of the character Osime early in the novel, on the basis of a remark made by the head of state:

"There are two elephants involved in this war and all round them is the grass. The grass is the one that is taking the beating. The elephants trample on the grass most crudely, most viciously. This is not our war and all talk about the federal side or the Biafran side is an illusion."45

The second capital observation comes from a sergeant at the war-front who is bitterly conscious of the position of the non-commissioned officers and the rank and file who do the fighting, suffer, and die unacknowledged on the

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45 Buchi Emecheta, Destination Biafra (Harlow: Longman. 1986): 14-15.

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Biafran side as well as on the Federal, The generals and other officers, on the other hand, take the credit and get the praise, They will also "write their account in which they will try to show that they were the heroes of this war."

The real heroes, tor Emecheta, are those soldiers and civilians who mostly belong to the broad masses that are ground down by the war machine.

Both Emecheta and Iyayi condemn the motives behind the war, each in the light of their social vision. Emecheta's novel ends with Debbie on the brink of a new but rather belated understanding of the situation, resolved now to resist and aspire to equality with Grey and what he represents. Iyayi's Osime, by contrast, saw the light early enough to know that the issue was to resolve the crisis by creating a "third force" which, in the language of Heroes, would be the grass that is trampled by two battling elephants -the workers, peasants, and people like Sergeants Audu and Kesh Kesh and their men, who are in fact the salt of the earth.

Such, Osime claims, was the belief of Colonel Victor Banjo, and a fellowjournalist adds accusingly: "He was sold out. He was betrayed" (170), In The Man Died, Wole Soyinka provides an echo of the ideas for which Banjo and others paid with their lives,46 Soyinka believes that "there existed then, and exists even now in spite of its reverses a truly national, moral and revolu
tionary alternative -Victor Banjo's Third Force" (94). The solution, in Soyinka's view, rests in returning the army "to its status as part of the proletariat [...] , We need a Third Force which thinks in terms of a common denominator
for the people" (178).

Looking at these views in connection with Destination Biafra and contrasting Heroes, it appears that Emecheta's novel, although admirable in some respects, is lacking in any deep political and ideological insight. This is manifest in Debbie's blind acceptance of the missions assigned to her and in her belated awakening. Her short-sightedness seems to be a projection of the writer's own ideological ambivalence, which is indicative of the tensions involved in handling the personal and the political. In Heroes, Osime, like Debbie, starts with confused loyalties and learns in the course of the fray, The reader follows his growth in his constant soul-searching and his quest for a lasting solution grounded on clear-sighted conviction, Debbie, by contrast, remains a victim of higher circles of power until the promising close.

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46 Wole Soyinka. The Man Died (London: Rcx Collings. 1972): 174



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Again, Osime's emotional experience, his self-imposed battle to overcome what he calls the itch he still has for the stunning beauty Salome, who has left him to marry a high-ranking officer but still wants him while he is involved with Ndudi, an Igbo girl, is part of his struggle, and might be linked with the Debbie I Alan relationship. Both love relationships develop chiefly against the backdrop of the Civil War, and their end, in a way, affects the hero and the heroine of each novel. Where Alan can hardly hide his revulsion when he learns about the repeated rapes Debbie has endured, Osime is prepared to comfort Ndudi and heal the psychic wounds inflicted on her by Biafran and Federal soldiers. It is significant that he is able to do so because of the strength Ndudi has shown and has passed on to him, a strength that involves retaining one's faith in the face of contradictory evidence. "Not spiritual faith. Just good, warm, human faith" in woman, in man, in humanity, a conviction essential to the "ability to survive this war" (l 04).

A similar faith might be seen to have informed Debbie, but on the plane of gender. One might assume that her construction as a character linking the Eastern and the Federal side could be assimilated to another imaginative expression of the Third Force stemming from both sides, in order, as Osime thinks in Heroes, to challenge the murder, rape, pillage and cruelty that went with the war, so that they are not carried over into peacetime. "A movement which will write the history of this war and give each man and woman his or her proper due" (247). As already seen, Debbie herself has been taking notes to write a similar history entirely from a woman's perspective.

Finally, Destination Biafra embodies Emecheta's political ideas on the national question. Debbie sets out with feminist ideas and a vision of life that has been questioned by the realities she encounters on her journey through the Mid-Western Region. And even though the reader is not given much opportunity to absorb the full import of her ideals, glimpses of these can be detected at work in her at definite moments. From such insights derives the notion that the educated and professional African woman needs to add to feminist consciousness an awareness of the particular situation in which her Africanness, with all that this implies politically and culturally, places her. This is the important issue which this book raises, and which I shall now subject to detailed scrutiny in the light of Emecheta's subsequent literary creations and other writings.
~