Saturday, October 10, 2009

Nwoye

Dear Mr. Brown,

I don’t even know if I should be sending you such a letter, but I can’t seem to stop thinking about your ‘ways’. The religion you preach seems to come from love, and that is what truly captivated me. Christianity seems to answer a lot of questions that have been lingering in my mind, unlike my own religion which discourages any questioning.

As you see, this is quite a sensitive subject. I have been thinking these thoughts for some time now, I tried to push them aside, but now that I see such an alternative, these thoughts come rushing back. An alternative based on love, when my own religion is based on fear. I am tired of being afraid; I am tired of living this life. I want to learn more about Christianity. I feel as if I’m living incorrectly, I feel as if everything I’ve been taught is based on silly assumptions. I never believed I would find happiness doing the things my father wanted me to do, but up until now, I had no alternative. To explore your religion, I risk losing everything. You must be thinking, ‘he is clearly unhappy, so what does losing his life matter?’. It does matter, I have never known anything but the Ibo ways, and thought I may not agree with them, they are all that I’ve been taught.

By writing such a letter, I am putting myself in danger. My father, Okonkwo, might cut off my hand to prevent me from writing you in the future; he is that violent. You might have heard of my father, for he is quite respected in Mbanta. But I don’t respect him at all. I want to escape my father’s world, for one of two things might happen. We might argue to the point where he kills me, or even worse…I might become like him. Oh Mr. Brown, he is an awful person! Please save me from his fatal hands, please be my saviour!

While listening to you preach the other day, one thing put my heart at ease, the concept of hell. I hope there is such an awful place, a place made specifically for sinners, because then my father would be the first one to enter! My father is a despicable being, he is too powerful. He has the power to hurt you both physically and emotionally, and people that powerful should be sent to ‘hell’.

My brother was murdered. I remember it as if it was yesterday, I was so young then, so naïve, so innocent. I was sitting with Ikemfuna one day, and then my father entered saying that Ikemfuna had to return to his homeland. You see, Ikemfuna is not my real brother, but I considered him a brother because he meant so much to me. I burst into tears when I heard this, because Ikemfuna was the sole reason for my happiness. Ikemfuna left, and later on that day my father returned that night alone; I knew Ikemfuna was dead. I could not understand why my father would do such thing! For years I was angry at my father, but now I am not only angry at him, I am angry at the society in which I live. How could a society promote the killing of an innocent child? I know Ikemfuna more than anybody else and I know that he would never harm anyone! Why did they kill him? Why do I live in a society in which the innocent are murdered and the guilty are respected?

As you see Mr. Brown, I can no longer live this way. I need to get away, and I want you to help me. I do not want to live in a place where things are done without explanations. When I was younger, even before I knew Ikemfuna, I began to doubt my tribe’s ideals. Something happened when I was younger that I will carry with me to my death, the cries of the infants still haunts me sometimes. I could not have been more than six or seven years old when I heard infants crying in the evil forest, finding out later that they were twins left in the forest to die. For years I tried to figure out what the infants did that made them deserve such a death, but now I know that it is not something that the infants did, it is something that my tribe believes in. Infants, a few days old left to die! How can my people be that heartless?

I have made my unhappiness with my religion and society quite clear, but I am still confused. At this point, I am not sure of what I want. I just want answers, and possibly someone to talk to. I want to live my life doing things I see as right. I want to live in peace and not fear. I want to be proud of who I am and what I believe in.

I liked what I heard from you the other day, but I need more than that. I want to be sure that the religion you preach does not promote ideals I feel so strongly against. Over the years, my heart has endured so much; I do not think I will be able to handle much more. I truly hope that your religion will soothe me like the drops of frozen rain melting on the dry palate.

I would like to meet you and discuss some things, and hopefully you will be able to answer more of my questions. I do not want to meet in a public place, for if we are seen together, we might both be in danger. I know I sound like a coward- my father Okonkwo constantly refers to me as a woman- but hopefully, under your guidance I will become more brave.

Hopefully, you have learned more about me. I want you to know that I am extremely interested Mr. Brown. I plan to seek eternal comfort with your teachings.

Sincerely,
Nwoye

I have chosen to write a letter from Nwoye to the Mr. Brown to convey Nwoye’s apparent unhappiness with the customs and traditions of the Ibo Society. I felt that the letter was one of the few tasks that could manage to convey such emotion. In this letter, I write about Nwoye’s skepticism on Ibo traditions, and his search for answers. This links to one of the themes of the novel, which is that people continue to do things in ignorance just because they are part of tradition. I also wanted to show that the reason Nwoye eventually converted was because he was unhappy with his current situation; I do not think that Nwoye converted because he was so captivated by the Christian ways. I chose to write in a formal register, because I felt that the issue the letter talked about was a relatively serious topic. Also, while reading the book, I felt as if the Ibo people spoke formally to one another. The excessive amount of proverbs in the book gave off the impression that they speak to one another formally.

Samar Al Ansari 11.5

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