A waltz of literary devices

Geetu Vaid

As the countdown for this year’s Booker prizes begins, one of the most talked about “finalists” Chigozie Obioma’s, An Orchestra of Minorities, is too irresistible to be put aside. The Nigerian writer has won wide acclaim for his linguistic artistry. His first novel, The Fisherman, had also made it to the Bookers’ final list in 2015.

With his wizardry with words this time around, Obioma takes the readers to the world of a young poultry farmer Chinonso, a native of Umuahia, Nigeria. The simpleton, whose life revolves around his small farm and animals, is sucked into the whirlpool of bitter struggles of life after a chance encounter with a woman attempting suicide on a highway bridge. 

While his sacrifice of two of his most prized chickens succeeds in saving the woman, he fails to save himself from the clutches of “hopeless” love. His world changes as he falls for Ndali, who belongs to one of the richest families in Nigeria. Her wealth, position and family make Chinonso painfully aware of his “status” in society. 

Thus, this modern-day Odyssus embarks on a voyage after selling all his assets in order to achieve education and success to make himself worthy of his lady love. Duped by his “friend”, he lands in an alien land, bitter and broken, as the hopes of him reuniting with Ndali become dimmer by the day. 

Obioma juxtaposes the physical journey with the spiritual one to weave the intricate tapestry of his narrative. Moving from rural Nigeria to Cyprus to Turkey on the physical plane, there is also the all too vivid shift from trust to distrust, love and longing to rage and from hope to despair. The fact that a reader is “witnessing” all this through Chi — the Igbo guardian spirit who inhabits him — adds a surreal aura to the action linking the modern world with the ancient one, and  man with spirits and gods. It adds layers of folklore to the all-too-obvious realities of racism, discrimination and frustration. 

Chi is not only a narrative device but also a voice that sets a historical connection between Chinoso’s misfortune and historical past. Having lived in hundreds of hosts over thousands of years Chi’s references to Biafran War, Aro slave raiders, etc. add interesting perspectives. 

Blending Igbo folklore with Greek tragedy, with a garnish of modern-day biogtry, Obioma transforms a tale of love into a biting and scathing comment. Language, however, remains the most exquisite part of An Orchestra... as Obioma mixes African-English expressions with Igbo and English. Be prepared for a bit of a rocky start as it will take some effort to get used to it, but once you start registering it, it will be a smooth ride. The only distance that is difficult to traverse, however, is the one created between the reader and ‘hero’ Chinoso by Chi.  As the story is told by Chi and a reader knows Chinoso only through Chi’s interpretation, it is difficult to empathise with him. Even in the most critical moments of his journey, one cannot help feeling like a spectator. This psychic distancing dulls the emotional intensity of the narrative all too often. Subtle references to alienation in foreign lands, casual racism are the touching moments that lift up the narrative. Whether it fetches a Booker for Obioma remains to be seen.