Caryn Livingston

9 May 2016

Essay I

The Challenge of African Tragedy

When I last evaluated my learning experience in this class, the only African text I had encountered as a tragedy was Death and the King’s Horseman, although I had read Things Fall Apart during the previous semester. By the time I evaluated my learning experience for the midterm, my main concern was being aware of the potential pitfall I could encounter in approaching the remaining African texts, of trying too hard to equate the Greek and African tragedies in my effort to understand them, and thereby effectively erasing any unique features of African tragedy in my learning experience. Now, at the end of the semester, I am beginning to feel that I have read enough tragedy specific to Africa that I have a framework for evaluating it on its own terms, rather than in comparison with Western literature, and to appreciate ways it is distinct from the classical tragedy we have been reading during the course. Given the events depicted in Death and the King’s Horseman, Things Fall Apart, The Rape of Shavi, and A Grain of Wheat, it seems impossible to me to separate African tragedy from its status as postcolonial literature. This aspect of African tragedy is distinct from classical tragedy, as we discussed in class, because the cultural setting is entirely different and because tragedy has modernized—while classical tragedy tended to appear during pinnacles of cultural history, “marked by ambition, confidence, [and] challenges to grapple directly with issues” as our course site describes, African tragedy seems to be attempting to engage with crucial issues currently facing societies in the midst of ongoing struggles, possibly to call attention to them or to offer new ways of thinking about them. This use of tragedy in Africa also invites a reconsideration, I think, of the uses of classical tragedy. While Nietzsche’s Birth of Tragedy was critical of Euripides for what Nietzsche considered the premature destruction of tragedy as a great genre, Euripides’s play The Trojan Women seemed to serve a similar function of calling attention to an important societal issue of the time.

I do think that studying African and classical tragedy in dialogue with each other promoted my understanding of both, and I think I avoided the problem that concerned me during my midterm evaluation of my learning experience. The class made an effort to engage with the unique aspects of African tragedy, especially by considering how the colonial and postcolonial history of Nigeria and Kenya affects the tragic literature we reviewed during the course. However, at least in my case, I do think the course topic was challenging for me as a literary student due to my lack of experience with African literature and history. During my reading of African tragedy, I eventually found all of the tragic novels compelling. However, early in my reading of all the novels I struggled to connect with the stories as I lacked a familiarity with the premise the novels introduced. This was especially true in A Grain of Wheat, as the setting moved from Nigeria, where I was more familiar with the history and culture, to Kenya, which was completely unfamiliar to me. My early struggles to connect to the literature, followed by my eventual strong interest in the outcome of the stories presented and connection to the cathartic moments, leads me to the consider the strong possibility that the continued exclusion of most African literature from the Western literary canon is a self-fulfilling prophecy, with continued unfamiliarity leading to continued lack of interest in becoming more familiar with African literature.

Completing research posts for this class was very useful in increasing my familiarity with the cultures depicted in Things Fall Apart and Death and the King’s Horseman. Due to my previous unfamiliarity with African belief systems and cultures, pursuing research posts in this class was probably more useful to me than that sort of research would be for almost any American or European literature course. Increasing cultural understanding for the societies depicted in the unfamiliar literature provides a framework to approach the societies in African tragedies that was otherwise absent and noticeably affected my own early understanding of the texts. Religious and cultural themes were pervasive in Things Fall Apart and Death and the King’s Horseman, and while the texts available on the course site helped give a basic framework of the history of the societies we read about, the fact that most students in the course have limited or no outside knowledge of the cultures is a challenge to students’ engagement with the texts. Because my research posts did not cover any part of Kenyan religion or culture, I found A Grain of Wheat very difficult to connect with early in the novel, although the compelling story eventually overcame my ignorance of the society’s history.

The other challenge I struggled with most, both in the course and in my assignments during the semester, is the decision of how to weight my discussions of African and classical tragedies. This has been an ongoing concern during the semester that the students and professor worked to keep in context and avoid leaning too heavily on the classical tragedy in our evaluation of African tragedy, while still discussing both in the limited time we can devote to the subject. Overall, I have found it useful to focus on the African tragedy because, as discussed in Nietzsche’s The Birth of Tragedy, the framework for tragedy within literary studies is already established almost solely by classical tragedy we have read during the semester. Our engagement with classical tragedy has been both pleasant, due to its compelling characters and topics, and necessary to establishing for the students what makes up the collective Western understanding of tragedy. Still, because so much has been said about classical tragedy already in the Western tradition, the option to focus on what we learn specifically from African tragedy is an opportunity presented in this course that would not be present in virtually any other course. The possibility to engage with African literature through this framework allows students to also redefine our understanding of the literary canon, as for example, the tragic flaws in Okonkwo, hero of Things Fall Apart, might make us think differently about the similarly fallen hero Oedipus. Still, because so much can be said about how the classical and African texts can be brought into dialogue, most of the possibilities cannot be pursued during the course of only this class. The main thought I take away with me from my learning experience this semester is the importance of including more literature from outside of the traditional canon in traditional literary courses, rather than only those that fall under the “world literature” heading, because so rarely do we have the opportunity to discuss African literature on its own terms rather than as a lone representation of literature from outside of America or Europe.

Essay II

Room for Discussion: Moral Ambiguities in Classical and African Tragedy

          During the semester, we have discussed the argument for tragedy as the greatest literary genre, particularly due to its power to instruct the audience in matters relating to the human condition. Frequently, our discussions have focused on the so-called tragic flaw in the tragic heroes we have studied, as with Oedipus’s tendency to behave rashly in anger that leads to him fulfilling the prophecy that he would kill his own father, and with Okonkwo’s inability to display emotion for fear of being thought weak in Things Fall Apart. One area that I feel could have been further explored during our discussions also relates to the way tragedy deals with questions of morality. At this point, the objective that primarily interests me relates to the morality of tragedy in how it functions, as our course site says, as a field of “secular religion” for exploration of morally ambiguous ethical questions. Unlike the tragic hero’s flaws, which are often fairly easy to identify as they lead to the climax of the action in the plays and novels, frequently the issues raised are left somewhat unresolved and allow for discussion of how to apply the moral lessons to life. The classical and African tragedy we encountered through the latter half of the semester explored these questions, but tended to have very different concerns that, I think, highlight how human literature does share a common purpose as it tends to explore ideas important to the culture in which it is written—making classical and African tragedy similar in that aspect, although very different in the specific ideas under consideration.

          One of the main moral questions explored by the Theban Cycle, in Oedipus the King, Antigone, and Oedipus at Colonus is the issue of civil disobedience. This was especially integral to Antigone, when Creon forbids Antigone to perform funeral rites for her brother Polynices and Antigone defies his order to fulfill what she views as a higher order from the gods. In situations like these, the idea of tragedy as the greatest narrative genre is strongly supported, because tragedy rejects the easy heroes and villains of romance for more complex characters that mandate greater evaluation of the decisions made. Creon has ordered Antigone to follow a course of action that she cannot in good conscience bring herself to follow, and orders her punished for it, but quickly regrets his actions when it becomes clear that many people he cares about will suffer as a result—indicating Creon is more hot-headed and misguided than monstrous. Antigone, meanwhile, is willing to face death to honor her dead brother, but rejects her sister, Ismene, when her sister expresses concern for what will happen to her if she defies Creon’s order. Ismene, though, is also following her own conscience and tells her sister so, saying “But I can’t act / against the state. That’s not in my nature” (ln. 97-8), Antigone takes Ismene’s deference to the laws of the state as an act of hostility against their family and the gods and when Creon assumes they acted together and Ismene agrees, Antigone rejects her sister’s act of solidarity, saying “Hades and the dead can say who did it—I don’t love a friend whose love is only words” (ln. 620-1). Even with her rejection of her sister that possibly violates the bond of kinship she was trying to uphold through her burial of Polynices, Antigone is likely more in the right than Creon is. However, both make decisions that hurt people they love and reject family members whose decisions displease them, so there is a gray area left open to interpretation in passing judgment on the actions of both characters. As discussed on the course site, Antigone’s civil disobedience raises important questions about obeying the laws of the state and feeling compelled to protest in some way, without necessarily declaring that there is nothing morally ambiguous in her protest. While Antigone feels her connection to her brother demands she fulfill his funeral rites, it is also true that Polynices attempted to invade Thebes, the city from which he and Antigone were both descended. Her loyalty to her brother may also show a partial disloyalty to Thebes and its people, who would certainly have suffered if Polynices had been successful.

          The issue of civil disobedience and questions of how to define true justice are also raised in Oedipus at Colonus, as Oedipus resists returning to the area around Thebes, his ancestral home, even as Creon commands it of him, and as Polylnices and Eteocles prepare to fight for their father’s throne from positions that put both of them outside the realm of law.  Because Oedipus’s tomb will grant the city near it protection, Creon tracks down Oedipus near Athens and tells him, “Come back to Thebes, come to thy father's home, / Bid Athens, as is meet, a fond farewell; / Thebes thy old foster-mother claims thee first” (ln. 772-4). Creon is correct in his assertion that Thebes is Oedipus’s father’s home, and one to which he should feel allegiance and a drive to protect. However, Oedipus rejects Creon’s offer because when Oedipus wanted to stay in Thebes originally after his initial horror depicted in Oedipus the King had faded somewhat, Creon would not let him: “Then you would thrust me from my country, then / These ties of kindred were by thee ignored” (ln. 784-5). It is again unclear whether either Creon or Oedipus is really in the right here, as Oedipus, due to his murder of his own father, was ordered cast out of Thebes by the gods, thereby putting Creon in a similar position to Antigone when she performs burial rites for Polynices to fulfill kinship roles commanded by the gods. In this case, Creon must violate the bonds of his kinship with Oedipus to follow the higher law of the gods, but takes the drastic step of kidnapping Antigone and Ismene to try to force Oedipus’ compliance. Additionally, the fight between Polynices and Eteocles that is discussed in Oedipus at Colonus presents another morally ambiguous situation, as Eteocles has usurped the Theban throne, though he is the younger brother and should have followed the established plan to share leadership in Thebes. Polynices is the elder son and should therefore have the right to the throne, but in his mission to reclaim it he plans to wage war on his own ancestral city by allying himself with the enemies of Thebes. Though both brothers have some claim to the Theban throne, it is unclear which is the less worthy to rule due to their mutual treachery.

          Most of the African tragedies we have read tend to explore issues surrounding the meeting of European and African cultures. While this is an overarching theme, the different novels consider separate aspects of how this meeting raises difficult moral questions. In Things Fall Apart, the arrival of Western influence into Okonkwo’s life leads to his eventual suicide, as it results in a complete upheaval of his culture. In setting up the moral ambiguity, Achebe establishes the corruption the colonial government introduces into the society depicted in the novel. The most drastic example of this is found in the scene near the end of the novel when the District Commissioner asks the men of Umuofia to meet him at his headquarters for a discussion, and then confiscates their weapons and demands they pay a fine and agree to give in to the demands of the colonial government. The District Commissioner tells them, “We have a court of law where we judge cases and administer justice just as it is done in my own country under a great queen. I have brought you here because you joined together to molest others” (194), and holds them until “a fine of two hundred bags of cowries” is turned in to his government (194). However, the court messengers went to Umuofia “to tell the people that their leaders would not be released unless they paid a fine of two hundred and fifty bags of cowries” (195-6). The extra fifty bags are, of course, for the messengers themselves, and this corruption is enabled by the colonial government. Even with this event and the subsequent decision not to go to war that lead to Okonkwo’s suicide, Achebe complicates the idea that no benefit can come from the cultural exchange that occurs during colonialism through his depiction of Oknokwo’s son Nwoye. Nwoye was very unhappy in the pre-colonial culture due to Okonkwo’s harsh treatment of him and some of the cultural practices that he rejected as a matter of conscience, including the abandonment to death of twins and the execution of the captive Ikemefuna, who became a sort of foster brother to him. Nwoye seems happier to be given a way to leave the culture, so while the arrival of Europeans in Africa was devastating overall, Achebe seems to clearly invite readers to empathize with Nwoye’s difficulties with the culture and his escape into the new religion of the colonial government.

As Things Fall Apart depicts the introduction of colonialism into an African society, Ngugi wa Thiong’o’s novel A Grain of Wheat examines issues of moral ambiguity within a Kenyan society regaining independence with the end of the colonial government. This is most powerfully illustrated by the relationship between Mugo and the freedom fighter Kihika. While colonial figures still appear in the novel, especially in the figure of John Thompson, the major conflicts within the novel occur primarily between villagers in Thabai, rather than focusing on the colonial representatives whose power wanes throughout the novel. The internal conflict Mugo carries through A Grain of Wheat as other villagers idolize him for his presumed assistance to the dead freedom fighter Kihika is only fully revealed at the end of the novel, when readers learn that Mugo was actually responsible for Kihika’s death, as he turned Kihika in to John Thompson. However, the novel makes it clear that feelings over the final revelation of this fact are very mixed, as Gikonyo reflects late in the novel that “Mugo had the courage to face his guilt and lose everything” (241). To further complicate the matter, while Kihika fought against the colonial government and the injustices it perpetrated, it also appears that he took an equally strong stance against his own people who did not support his form of violent resistance. When Kihika appears in Mugo’s hut and asks him to join his cause, Mugo only wishes to be left in peace, but realizes Kihika’s confrontation means that is no longer an option. “If I don’t serve Kihika he’ll kill me. They killed Rev. Jackson and Teacher Muniu. If I work for him, the government will catch me. The whiteman has long arms. And they’ll hang me. My God, I don’t want to die, I am not ready for death, I have not even lived,” Mugo thinks to himself before deciding to give Kihika up to the colonial government (189). Both Mugo and Kihika are depicted mainly as good characters, so tragedy serves here to force readers to consider the dilemma presented to Mugo. While the moral ambiguities presented in the tragedies allow for discussion of how the action is resolved, the possibility of there being no right answer also leaves room for debate in considering what other paths might be taken, and the moral considerations for acting when there is no obviously correct path.