Chinchua Achebe\'s Things Fall Apart

¶ … Chinchua Achebe's Things Fall Apart is a story about many things, but primarily about a man trying to hold his family and life together in Nigeria during the time of colonization. History, and indeed any fair application of moral sentiment or an ethical system, has determined the acts of the colonization efforts to be unjust, and in no way is this exercise meant to veer away from this view. Yet it must be acknowledged -- and is so by Achebe in the novel, according to fair reading -- that the individuals are often involved in unjust acts without themselves being unjust people. This is true not only of Okonkwo, but also of the individual representatives of the colonizing force, typified in the person of the District Commissioner.

Given the increasing globalization of the world, coming to an understanding of how culture and ethnocentrism works is essential. This novel is in part an attempt to show the effects of colonization on a particular locale and population, and a key for the Western mind to follow in attempting to understand the tribal mentality the Western world has so arrogantly replaced. Equally important however -- arguably more important -- is attempting to understand the mind of the colonizer. That is my attempt in the following alternative telling of the novel's final chapter. By using the first-person perspective of the District Commissioner without changing the details of the plot, I hope to shed light on the aspect of the colonizing force in the novel.

My aim in retelling this passage is to remain objective as possible; neither to apologize for nor satirize the character of the District Commissioner, but rather to present a view of him that reflects his own moral belief in what he does, while at the same time illustrating the mindset that leads to the colonial impulse. No attempt has been made to match the style of Things Fall Apart; the tone is that of a story Okonkwo would tell, and the District Commissioner's story must necessarily have it's own voice. This voice is one of optimism mingled with frustration, passionately baffled and academically detached by turns, and displaying a slight arrogance throughout.

Things Come Together: Chapter Twenty-Five of Things Fall Apart as Told by the District Commissioner

He killed him. He was sent a simple message to stop their collective meeting and peacefully disperse, and this one simply couldn't get it. All these people know how to do is react with violence.

And that's why I find myself on the way to what passes for their village. It is an opportunity for further research; I shouldn't look at it so pessimistically. These people are fascinating, savage though they may be -- fascinating because they are savage, I should say. It is the violence of their temperaments and their seeming inability to control their passions that makes them so ripe for research, and which lends itself quite nicely to the title of a volume such as my own.

The Pacification of the Primitive Tribes of the Lower Niger. I really can't think of a more engaging or informative title. And certainly, all these people require is pacification. I think that has been sufficiently demonstrated by the events of the past few days. Burning down a Church, the House of God! I understand that these people do not yet realize the error of their heathenish ways, but surely they can keep themselves from desecrating a holy place. I know they have a concept of consecration; their practice regarding their own idols and other peculiarities of worship prove it.

First the Church, and now an official whose only crime was trying to instill a little order into this chaotic country. For the life of me, I cannot understand why these people cannot see what we're trying to do for them. No one in their right mind would choose to live the way these people do; though their licentiousness might be pleasing to the more prurient proclivities among them (and, to be frank, there are some back home that might also persuaded to the pleasures of such a lifestyle), the compete lack of decent infrastructure that has been the result of their constant warring and extremely pervasive superstitions leaves much to be desired.

Perhaps this murder should not be so surprising to me, given what I have already learned about these people and their practices. But such a violent and unexpected murder, and to come in such a very uncivilized manner! According to what the other men told me, there was absolutely no provocation or intimidation -- they simply told the assembly to disperse, and one of them that had been in jail yesterday simply started hacking him to pieces with a machete.

The other men were understandably shaken, and I cannot say I blame them. We must all thank God that they were able to escape with their lives, though it does seems that only this one individual displayed such extreme rage.

Still, I do not relish my duty now. Like Daniel walking right into the lion's den -- except he had a king who threw him in, and I have only the weight of history and the advancement of proper civilization pushing me forward. And the lions Daniel faced were never so dangerous, nor so duplicitous, as these people have proven to be. I must bear myself with the confidence of our rightful Empire.

When I first arrived at the village, they seemed to be attempting to evade justice for their violent act against my man. I admit, I lost my cool somewhat in threatening to imprison the men I found there, though this would have been the only reasonable course of action in any civilized country. Obstructing the effective investigation and prosecution of a clear-cut case of unprovoked murder -- it is no wonder these people live in such conditions; they have absolutely no sense of moral rectitude or civil and social obedience, but only a collective superstition.

Then there is their roundabout way of talking. As longs as I live here, I shall never get used to the way it is impossible to get a straight answer from these people. They always act as if it is they who are doing you the favor, too, and not the other way around. As if revealing the location of a murderer were not something they had a duty, under a universal and unequivocal moral code, to do.

Then there is the wheedling, always trying to get something. I agreed, of course, in the interest of moving justice along, not realizing that what this man was jabbering about until we arrived at the body.

Needless to say, I was somewhat taken aback by this development. I suppose it showed some sense of remorse on the murderer's part; a sensibility I had not come to expect from these people. Perhaps our influence is beginning its work, however gradually. Though tragic, this incident could perhaps be a foothold from which many other learning experiences may extend -- a sort of modern day parable in the wilderness. We are all missionaries in this country.