How Kambili reveal Eugene character.

A prominent man in the Achike’s village of Enugu, Papa (Eugene) is portrayed as a man who runs several successful factories and publishes an English-language newspaper infamous for its criticism of Nigeria’s corrupt government. He is a devout Catholic who expects nothing less than perfection from his family. Papa punishes his wife and children in order to correct their behavior. Papa is beloved in his community but is estranged from his own father and his traditional African culture.

Things started to fall apart when my brother, Jaja, did not go to communion and Papa flung his heavy missal across the room and broke the figurines on the étagère.

Kambili, Page 1

“Things fall apart” is an allusion to one of the most well-known English-language books about Nigeria. Things Fall Apart, by Chinua Achebe, chronicles the decline of an Igbo clan leader in the shadow of British colonial rule and Christian missionaries. Purple Hibiscus is a novel about a culturally Igbo family who lives under strict Catholic mores. Papa, the patriarch, was schooled in Britain and adopts and English-inflected accent when speaking in public. The Achike family reflects both the roots of their ancestry and the impact imperialism has had on their traditions.

’Imagine what the Standard would be if we were all quiet.’

It was a joke. Ade Coker was laughing; so was his wife, Yewande. But Papa did not laugh. Jaja and I turned and went back upstairs, silently.

Ade Coker; Kambili, Page 58

Though Papa and Ade Coker, through the Standard, seek to tell the truth about the government, the Achike children are not urged to tell the truth about their own lives. To Papa, being a good Nigerian entails two things – exposing corruption and strict adherence to faith. Papa believes it is his duty to deliver his country and his children to heaven. He holds both up to extreme standards. Though he is considered a hero for fighting against corruption, his actions as a disciplinarian in the home make him a monster. Ultimately, Papa is neither. He is a flawed person.

Papa, wearing a long, gray robe like the rest of the oblates, helped distribute ash every year. His line
moved the slowest because he pressed hard on each forehead to make a perfect cross with his ashcovered thumb and slowly, meaningfully enunciated every word of “dust and unto dust you shall return.”

On some Sundays, the congregation listened closely even when Father Benedict talked about things everybody already knew, about Papa making the biggest donations to Peter’s pence and St. Vincent de Paul. Or about Papa paying for the cartons of communion wine, for the new ovens at the convent where the Reverend Sisters baked the host, for the new wing to St. Agnes Hospital where Father Benedict gave extreme unction. And I would sit with
my knees pressed together, next to Jaja, trying hard to keep my face blank, to keep the pride from showing, because Papa said modesty was very important.