Petals of Blood

 Hello!

This blog is a response to a task assigned by Megha madam as we are having the African literature in our syllabus of M.A part two, we were assigned to give answers of any two questions among some questions given by ma'am in google classroom.

Introduction: As an African and committed writer Ngugi plays an important role in the messianic mission of awakening the lethargic masses and denouncing all the social, economic, religious and political evils that pervade the African society. In most of his literary fiction, Ngugi employs the Marxist approach to literature in which the latter embodies and reflects class struggle in any society and that literature and art can affect the society even lead to revolution. Building on Antonio Gramsci’s idea “ that the dominant class controls the views of people by many means, one of which is the art”

Here are two questions which I am going to write detailed answers about: 

1. Write a detailed note on history, sexuality, and gender in Ngugi’s Petals of Blood. 

2.Write a detailed note on “Re-historicizing the conflicted figure of Woman in Petals of Blood.

1. History, sexuality, and gender in Ngugi’s Petals of Blood:  

Petals of Blood offers at least two models for anti-Imperial history. The first is a model of black world historical struggle. We might call this epochal struggle. The second is a model of Kenyan national struggle. We might call this a generational struggle. Petals of Blood is interesting, because in it we see Ngugi’s political vision widening out from a decolonizing nationalism to broader anti-Imperial axes of identification. I think that this widening out can be traced to Ngugi’s University of Leeds research on George Lamming in particular, and to his wider reading in Caribbean literature more generally. It is useful here to recall that Petals of Blood is named after a line in Derek Walcott’s poem, ‘The Swamp,’ and that it alludes to at least two of V. S. Naipaul’s novels (The Mystic Masseur and The Mimic Men) as the narrative unfolds. But it is the influence of Lamming in particular that we might identify with the making of Petals of Blood

 Petals of Blood begins with the drought (mirroring Lamming’s flood), continues with the journey to the city to protest to the MP (equating to the strike and the riots in In the Castle of My Skin), and it concludes with a final phase in which the apparent marketability of Theng’eta results in the influx of corrupting economic forces and the establishment of New Ilmorog (just as Lamming’s landlord Creighton has sold up and the new owners have decided to sell the villagers’ homes out from under them).

Petals of Blood embraces an aesthetic of reconnecting, intertwining the struggles for liberation among Caribbean, African-American, and African communities. The narrative reflects a diasporic affiliation, an epic ambition, and, arguably, a structure reminiscent of biblical proportions. This assertion is not without basis, as Ngugi, in Homecoming, observes a resonance between the Jewish and biblical experiences with the struggles of those who have been enslaved and displaced.

Notably, the section headings in Petals of Blood, resembling an abridged account of Christian beliefs, evoke Yeatsian echoes ('Walking . . . Toward Bethlehem . . . To Be Born . . . Again . . . La Luta Continua!': The suffering continues.). These headings encapsulate elements such as the Jewish exodus from Egypt, the birth of Christ, and the anticipation of the Second Coming. Petals of Blood can be interpreted as presenting a vision of socialist liberation that embodies faith in collective human potential and views black world history as reaching apotheosis. In this perspective, freedom shapes a deity discernible only through the dignity of fellow humans. The text suggests that Petals of Blood serves as a profound exploration of African world-historical experience, akin to a bible. Its 'theology,' if one may use that term, engages deliberately with global Cold War politics, consciously countering anti-Communist Christian evangelism prevalent during that period, as exemplified by figures like Wurmbrand and Graham. In essence, Petals of Blood confronts the ideological functions of evangelical Christianity during the Cold War, offering a theological belief system grounded in worldly institutions.

That leads us onto the second model of history in Petals of Blood. This second model is of Kenyan national history as a generational history of struggle. The novel is using an idea of generational history, derived from Gikuyu customary institutions, to think about democratic forms of political power. To a certain degree, Petals of Blood draws upon indigenous methods of naming connected with circumcision and clitoridectomy. In the Gikuyu tradition, oral history is preserved through the meaningful names assigned each year to the circumcision age-sets. These names establish a connection between each generation and the crucial historical events intertwined with their transition into manhood or womanhood. These practices serve as a channel through which Gikuyu oral history is recalled and recounted. An illustration of this mnemonic history emerges when Munira recounts his memories of attending school at Siriana.Siriana, you should have been there in our time, before and during the period of the big, costly European dance of death and even after: you might say that our petty lives and their fears and crises took place against a background of tremendous changes and troubles, as can be seen by the names given to the age-sets between Nyabani [‘Japan’] and Hitira [‘Hitler’]: Mwomboko [a dance] . . . Karanji [‘college’?], Boti [‘forty’], Ngunga [‘army worms’], Muthuu [a dance performed before circumcision], Ng’aragu Ya Mianga, Bamiti [‘permit’], Gicina Bangi, Cugini-Mburaki [‘black market’].

Having delved into intricate details, I'd like to conclude with broader observations. Firstly, Petals of Blood's two historical models, generational and epochal, prove incompatible. The inherent issue lies in their neglect of a crucial element – femininity in all its facets, potentials, and agencies. The effectiveness of Petals of Blood's notions of generational struggle relies on a stable concept of lineage. In a patriarchal society, a stable notion of lineage necessitates a reliable idea of paternity. However, maintaining paternity stability requires an unambiguous naming act, where the father claims the child for culture. This poses a challenge in a novel marked by diverse literary references and political affiliations, compounded by the presence of Wanja, a key female character who evolves into a highly successful prostitute in the novel's final part.

While these challenges may seem daunting, Petals of Blood possesses the depth and richness to address them. One approach to grappling with these complexities when exploring history and intertextuality in Petals of Blood is to consider a clandestine intertext within the novel—the hidden history of female struggle in Kenya, particularly the covert history of prostitutes who employed their revolutionary sexuality in service of the Mau Mau movement. By reading the novel against the grain in this manner, we can transcend narrow discussions of reproduction and gain insight into new forms of revolutionary agency.

Brendon Nicholls' article delves into Ngugi wa Thiong’o’s Petals of Blood, proposing two distinct models for anti-imperial history: epochal struggle on a global scale and generational struggle within the context of Kenyan national history. Nicholls argues that the novel's widening political vision stems from Ngugi's exposure to Caribbean literature, particularly George Lamming's work. The article explores how Petals of Blood intertwines African, African-American, and Caribbean struggles for liberation, adopting a diasporic perspective with an epic ambition and a structure reminiscent of biblical narratives. It examines the generational history depicted in the novel, rooted in Gikuyu oral traditions, and the challenges posed to stable notions of lineage and paternity. The article concludes by suggesting an alternative reading that uncovers the covert history of female struggle and revolutionary sexuality in Kenya during the Mau Mau movement.

2.Write a detailed note on “Re-historicizing the conflicted figure of Woman in Petals of Blood.

Introduction of Wanja 

Intelligent, beautiful Wanja is Nyakinyua’s granddaughter, Munira and Karega’s lover, and Abdulla’s lover, employee, and business partner. When Wanja is an adolescent, her father’s friend, the businessman Kimeria, impregnates her. Despairing, she commits infanticide after giving birth, leaves school, and becomes a barmaid. As a barmaid, Wanja suffers sexual harassment from clients and employers. Later, she wants to have another child. She visits Nyakinyua in Ilmorog, where she takes a job at Abdulla’s store and begins an affair with Munira, hoping to get pregnant. The attempt fails, and she leaves Ilmorog, only returning after an arsonist sets her apartment on fire during political unrest. During Ilmorog’s drought, she participates in the delegation traveling to the city to ask for help; on the way, Kimeria detains the travelers and forces sex on Wanja. Later, Wanja and Karega begin a romantic relationship. When Karega leaves town, Wanja starts a Theng’eta brewing business with Abdulla to forget her heartbreak. The brewery is successful, but when a bank repossesses Nyakinyua’s land, Wanja has to sell the business to keep the land in her family. Devastated by this loss, Wanja adopts a dog-eat-dog philosophy and starts a brothel, reasoning that as a sex worker she can at least profit from her own exploitation. Kimeria, Mzigo, and Chui, the Theng’eta brewery’s new directors, frequent Wanja’s brothel. After Karega returns and accuses Wanja of siding with capitalists, Wanja decides to stage a confrontation between Kimeria, Mzigo, Chui, and her new lover Abdulla at her brothel. When Kimeria arrives at the brothel, Wanja impulsively murders him. That same night, Munira—obsessed with Wanja and convinced she has Karega in her demonic sexual thrall—sets the brothel on fire to kill her. Abdulla saves Wanja, while Mzigo and Chui die; everyone assumes the fire killed Kimeria as well. Afterward, Wanja quits sex work and discovers she is pregnant. Wanja’s constant exploitation by lovers, employers, and businessmen exemplifies the novel’s condemnation of capitalism and its sense that women suffer specifically sexual forms of economic exploitation.

Homi K. Bhabha emphasized the importance of social power relations in defining subaltern social groups as “oppressed racial minorities whose social presence was crucial to the self-definition of the majority group”.  Spivak proposes a theory of subalternity in her essay “Can the Subaltern Speak?” In this essay, she vindicated the limitations of the subalterns, asking “Can the Subaltern Speak?” (283). By “subaltern” Spivak means the oppressed subjects or more generally those “of inferior rank” (283). She goes on to add that “In the context of colonial production, the subaltern has no history and cannot speak, the subaltern as female is even more deeply in shadow” From Spivak’s perspective, women are subalterns as they are oppressed by men. There is not any type of logic that biological difference between men-women put women in subordinate position but it is the fact of women’s position in society.

The central figure of Wanja in Ngugi wa Thiong'o's novel "Petals of Blood" emerges as a complex and multifaceted character, challenging traditional depictions of women in literature. Wanja defies stereotypical roles by embodying strength, agency, and resilience. Her character undergoes various trials, demonstrating her ability to navigate challenges and shape her destiny.

Wanja's strength is evident in her relationship with the land, where she assumes a vital role as a mother and nurturer for the entire village. Her determination to accompany others on their return to the city, despite painful memories, highlights her resilience. Even after facing the trauma of rape, Wanja continues her journey, contributing to Abdulla's business and ultimately achieving significant success through her appropriation of the Theng'eta drink.

The portrayal of Wanja as a strong and empowered female character has garnered praise from feminist critics. However, some critics, like Florence Stratton, argue that Wanja is used as a trope or allegory for Kenya and Africa, reducing her character to symbolic representation rather than an individual with agency. Focusing on mothers and prostitutes. While acknowledging the archetypal nature of Wanja's characterization, the author argues that Ngugi uses the trope strategically, rooted in his Marxist philosophies. The specificity of Kenyan women's historical context is explored to shed light on Wanja's character as a representative of the Kenyan nation.

The analysis delves into Wanja's relationship with the land, her mothering instincts, and her turn to prostitution. The paper contends that Wanja's character reflects Ngugi's vision of a new Kenya, influenced by Marxist philosopher Frantz Fanon. The discussion also addresses the criticism of Wanja as a prostitute, emphasizing the complexity of her character and her role in challenging traditional norms.

Ultimately, the author suggests that Wanja, like other main characters in the novel, serves as a collective representation of women's identity in Ngugi's vision of the nation. The paper explores Wanja's role in the context of Gikuyu traditions, emphasizing her connection to the land and her symbolic significance as an Earth mother.

In conclusion, the analysis aims to reconcile Wanja's archetypal nature with Ngugi's broader socio-political and historical intentions, providing a nuanced understanding of her character in "Petals of Blood."

Thank You!