Hibiscuses Need Water to Grow
Purple Hibiscus by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie has a strong grip on my heart strings for how relatable the feelings of the main character, Kambili, are to mine. In the beginning, Kambili expresses how much she looks up to her father -- almost as if he can do no wrong even when she knows his love for God has become harmful. Papa Eugene is an extreme Catholic man who follows the word of God as best as he can and enforces it onto his family as well; punishing them himself when they “walk into sin”. In my life, Papa Eugene is my mother -- a Christian woman who puts God before anything and enforces it into the family as much as she can; however, her punishments are nowhere compared to the level of Eugene’s, they’re more like Aunty Ifeoma’s -- a slap in the face. However, just like Kambili admires her dad and yearns for his love -- I do too, with my mother.
Kambili often expresses how much she has to say yet there’s always something holding her back; “I wanted to talk with them, to laugh with them so much that I would start to jump up and down in one place the way they did, but my lips held stubbornly together. I did not want to stutter, so I started to cough and then ran out and into the toilet” (Adichie 141). Growing up I was taught to stay quiet because “you look prettier when you’re quiet” was a saying every mother told their kids. I have trouble speaking to others and reaching out to communicate because of it. Just like Kambili, I had trouble making friends throughout school.
There’s so much about Kambili’s mind that just felt like she and I understood each other’s struggles. Jaja shows Kambili the purple hibiscus cuttings that their Aunty Ifeoma has given him and tells Kambili they need plenty of water. I named this essay “Hibiscuses Need Water to Grow” because Kambili grows when she is around her family in Nsukka, not only mentally but also spiritually and in the same way I have grown with my friends, they represent the water in my life.