No Longer at Ease

Chinua Achebe is one of my favourite writers. One of the major themes in his writing is the effect of colonialism on the Igbo (Ibo) tribes of Nigeria. Achebe's language is uncomplicated and aesthetically pleasing. Although he writes in English, he tweaks his English to conform to Igbo idiom, thus manifesting the possibilities of language yet again. The Igbo ethos emerges leisurly through his language. It is the language of the Igbo; every conversation is a rally of well constructed monologues; or witty proverbs that seem new every time they are uttered. To quote from Achebe's first novel, Things Fall Apart, “Among the Igbo, the art of conversation is regarded very highly, and proverbs are the palm-oil with which words are eaten.”

The subject matter of Achebe's first three novels is concerned with the Igbo tribes of a (fictitious) village called Umuofia (which later becomes a small town). The three are sometimes together referred to as "The African Trilogy". Previously, I had read the first in the series, Things Fall Apart, and the third, Arrow of God. Both brilliant pieces of prose. In this light, when I recently read No Longer At Ease, which is the second in the series and a sequel of sorts to Things Fall Apart, I felt immensely dissatisfied.

This is the story of Obi Okonkwo, the grandson of Okonkwo, the protagonist of Things Fall Apart. When his grandfather committed suicide unable to bear his sense of endless shame, most of the village had turned to christianity. Obi's father was not just a fervent new convert, he's also a catechist. Obi is a meritorious student. He's gulped all the education he could find near his village. People who migrate to cities in search of jobs have their organisations in every city; the Lagos chapter of this organisation is funding Obi's higher education. Obi is going to England.

The novel begins in a Lagos court room. Obi is facing the judge for allegedly taking a bribe. “I cannot comprehend how a young man of your education and brilliant promise could have done this,” the judge says while handing over the conviction. The story then flashes back. As soon as Obi is back from England, he realises the burden of expectations weighing on him: one of the few Africans who has a job in senior civil service; the gifted son of Umuofia; shall never let us down; shall lend a helping hand to all; etcetera. In the beginning, he imagines that he can handle all this out of his good nature, but that doesn't last long. More importantly, he starts getting convinced that his idealism wont take him anywhere in this newly corrupt city of Nigeria. Things don't improve when his love affair with an Osu girl (a girl from a family "left to God") becomes public knowledge; the relationship with the people of Umofia in Lagos gets strained further.

He's trying to keep afloat, trying not to get corrupt like the rest of the Nigerians. But the ground beneath his feet is drifting away. He faces money shortage persistently. Anxieties. His love affair is getting alienated day by day. When his father doesn't approve of his love interest, Obi says, "But we are Christians." The irony of a staunch christian father, who has throughly rejected everything Igbo, invoking an age old Igbo restraint order in this situation; and of Obi, who despite always being indifferent to his father's religion, is now weilding it out of his helplessness. To add to it, Obi's mother, who freezes the matter by plainly stating that Obi can marry that girl, but of course, after her death. His lover is moving away. Obi is falling, getting debased.

One of the tones of Achebe's works is the following: it's not just colonialism that set Africa back, Africa is equally responsible for its setback. It's true that christian missionaries and British colonialism ruined Africa to a great extent. It's also true that Africans corrupted themselves socially and culturally. This theme comes out very effectively in the other two Achebe novels that I have read. However, unlike the other two, the tragedy in No Longer at Ease does not seem like the tragedy of Africa. It rather seems like a personal tragedy of one young man. Obi is just an ordinary young man who could be from anywhere; he is not necessarily a representative of the Igbo tribes of Eastern Nigeria. I feel this is where the novel loses out. Achebe's strength does not lie in such generality. Even in this novel, as long as he is in Umoufia, the taste of a language fried in palm oil can be felt. But as soon as the novel returns to Lagos, the sharpness in language is lost. The conversations become apathetic. The disconnect between the two threads is clear-cut.

No Longer at Ease is not a bad novel at all. Only it does not reach the bar set by Achebe's other novels. Not that every work of an artist is of the same quality, or that it has to be. What disappoints me is that it could have been a very good novel. And easily so! Since that has not been the case, a feeling of unease remained for several days after finishing the novel.