The Poisonwood Bible: Searching for Redemption Under African Skies

Set alternately in the Congo and the United States during the mid-to-late 20th century, Barbara Kingsolver's The Poisonwood Bible is a stirring indictment of cultural and political imperialism. Speaking with the voices of the five women of the Price family, Kingsolver chronicles the impact of white Europeans on Africa and of Africa on the white men and women who ventured into its largely unknown and misunderstood vastness.

Pastor Nathan Price, the not-so-gentle patriarch of the Price family, served Kingsolver well as the arrogant and passionate voice of all those who went to Africa armed with little more than good intentions and ignorance. As a Christian missionary haunted by his own troubled past, Pastor Price sacrificed everything to leave his Georgia congregation and pursue his calling to save the souls of Africa's children--and frankly, the reverend regarded all black Africans as children. Nothing could sway him from his appointed path: not an indigenous rebellion against colonial masters, not civil war, not the orders of his mission league, and certainly not the safety and welfare of his wife and four daughters.

As depicted by the woman of his family, Pastor Price was the quintessential ugly American. Had the Congo been misused by its colonial masters? Well, perhaps, but Africa had benefitted far more than it had been abused because Europeans had brought civilization and Jesus in their wake. In the reverend's eyes, this was more than a fair exchange for the Congo's mineral ores and diamond reserves. And if accusations of laziness or theft caused Congolese workers to lose their hands to the machetes of overseers--well, that was all part of a righteous bargain.

In recounting their African tale, the voices of the Price women are complementary, if not harmonious. On one point they all agree: Africa insinuated herself into their very essence, changing their lives forever:

~ Ruth May, the youngest of the Price children, was the first to be co-opted by African ways--and the one to die suddenly at a tender age and lie forever in the Congo's timeless soil.

~ Adah, handicapped by congenital hemiplegia, found a degree of acceptance in Africa she had never known at home. In a land where people matter-of-factly wore their scars and infirmities as testimonies to survival, Adah's disability did not seem out of place. Ultimately, Adah's African experience would provide a basis for freeing herself from her own quiet anger and her father's dictatorial rule.

~ Leah, Adah's perfectly formed twin, embraced Africa most completely. Arriving in the Congo as a devoted follower of her father's religious truths, she would ultimately embrace the language, culture, and philosophical truths of her adopted homeland. And she herself would become the mother of African children.

~ Rachel, the eldest sister, would embrace the other side of Africa--the one characterized by apartheid and exploitation, the one where whites thought nothing of living in ghettos of opulence and privilege while turning a blind eye to the poverty of their black servants.

~ And Orleanna, mother of them all, would bear Africa in her soul for the rest of her life. Returning to Georgia with Adah, Orleanna would mourn the loss of her child but not of her marriage. She would prize the strength she had found to establish her own priorities, and she would invoke simplicity into her life--a fitting tribute to hard-won lessons from her time in the Congo.

Kingsolver's narrative is filled with vivid images of African landscapes and with glimpses into the wisdom of an ancient and rich culture. It is also a politically potent rendering of historical events affecting the retreat of Belgium from "her Congo" and the challenges facing the Congolese as they sought to fashion a structure for governing themselves. For those of us who know little of Africa--and let's face it, that includes most of us--it was fascinating to consider the dilemma imposed on the Congolese by their effort to develop a suitable system of government.

For example, how would people who prized unanimous consent at the village level learn to cope with the concept of democracy imposed on a national scale? As Leah's Congolese husband would note, when you have an election in which 49 people vote for one thing and 50 vote for another--well, that's just naturally bound to lead to trouble. Or elsewhere: if you have a pot balanced on three stones, what will happen when one is pulled away?

Although Kingsolver has been broadly criticized for using the The Poisonwood Bible to showcase her own political views, it is difficult to escape her principal conclusion: Africa had a vibrant and effective cultural milieu in place long before Europeans arrived with their own version of civilization. And even after centuries of imperial domination and exploitation, Africans were far more atuned to their own ancient traditions than they were to those brought by their colonial masters. Imposing Western political institutions on Africa was thus almost certain to lead to confusion and confrontation--if not bloodshed. However much we may debate the root causes of these consequences, it cannot be disputed that the people of the Congo endured the full impact of the clash that resulted. Whatever else she may or may not have accomplished, Barbara Kingsolver has helped us to gain a fuller understanding of that struggle.