Things started to fall apart at home when my brother, Jaja, did not go to
communion and Papa flung his heavy missal across the room and broke the figurines on the etagere.
WORD LISTS"Purple Hibiscus" by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, List 1January 3, 2017
Kambili and Jaja's life among the elite in Nigeria isn't so easy under the thumb of their oppressive father. When the country becomes mired in political turmoil, they are sent to stay with their aunt, where they learn a different way of life.
This list covers pages 1–52 in the 2012 Algonquin edition. Here are links to our lists for the novel: List 1, List 2, List 3, List 4, List 5 Here is a link to our lists for Americanah by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie. ![]() ![]() ![]()
communion
Things started to fall apart at home when my brother, Jaja, did not go to
communion and Papa flung his heavy missal across the room and broke the figurines on the etagere.
parish
Father Benedict had changed things in the
parish, such as insisting that the Credo and kyrie be recited only in Latin; Igbo was not acceptable.
solemnity
Also, hand clapping was to be kept at a minimum, lest the
solemnity of Mass be compromised.
native
But he allowed offertory songs in Igbo; he called them
native songs, and when he said “
native” his straight-line lips turned down at the corners to form an inverted U.
triumphant
Brother Eugene spoke out for freedom. How many of us have stood up for the truth? How many of us have reflected the
Triumphant Entry?
modesty
And I would sit with my knees pressed together, next to Jaja, trying hard to keep my face blank, to keep the pride from showing, because Papa said
modesty was very important.
mortal
He always encouraged Father Benedict to call and win that person back into the fold; nothing but
mortal sin would keep a person away from communion two Sundays in a row.
secular
“Wafer” was too
secular, wafer was what one of Papa’s factories made—chocolate wafer, banana wafer, what people bought their children to give them a treat better than biscuits.
jagged
Jaja knelt beside Mama, flattened the church bulletin he held into a dustpan, and placed a
jagged ceramic piece on it.
swell
The last time, only two weeks ago, when her
swollen eye was still the black-purple color of an overripe avocado, she had rearranged them after she polished them.
limp
She
limped slightly, as though one leg were shorter than the other, a gait that made her seem even smaller than she was.
intone
Afterward, he
intoned the Blessed Virgin in several different titles while we responded, “Pray for us.”
compliment
He was supposed to say something now, to contribute, to
compliment Papa’s new product.
colonial
Papa’s sister, Aunty Ifeoma, said once that Papa was too much of a
colonial product.
figurine
Maybe Mama had realized that she would not need the
figurines anymore; that when Papa threw the missal at Jaja, it was not just the
figurines that came tumbling down, it was everything.
defiance
Jaja’s
defiance seemed to me now like Aunty Ifeoma’s experimental purple hibiscus: rare, fragrant with the undertones of freedom, a different kind of freedom from the one the crowds waving green leaves chanted at Government Square after the coup.
indulgent
Mama shook her head and smiled, the
indulgent smile that stretched across her face when she talked about people who believed in oracles, or when relatives suggested she consult a witch doctor, or when people recounted tales of digging up hair tufts and animal bones wrapped in cloth that had been buried in their front yards to ward off progress.
mysterious
“They do not know that God works in
mysterious ways.”
meticulously
Papa liked order. It showed even in the schedules themselves, the way his
meticulously drawn lines, in black ink, cut across each day, separating study from siesta, siesta from family time, family time from eating, eating from prayer, prayer from sleep.
martial
Papa had just checkmated Jaja when we heard the
martial music on the radio, the solemn strains making us stop to listen.
coup
Coups begat
coups, he said, telling us about the bloody
coups of the sixties, which ended up in civil war just after he left Nigeria to study in England.
corrupt
Of course, Papa told us, the politicians were
corrupt, and the Standard had written many stories about the cabinet ministers who stashed money in foreign bank accounts, money meant for paying teachers’ salaries and building roads.
deliver
“God will
deliver us,” I said, knowing Papa would like my saying that.
demonstrator
Our branches never looked as bright as the
demonstrators’, though, and sometimes as we drove past, I wondered what it would be like to join them, chanting “Freedom,” standing in the way of cars.
benediction
Our steps on the stairs were as measured and as silent as our Sundays: the silence of waiting until Papa was done with his siesta so we could have lunch; the silence of reflection time, when Papa gave us a scripture passage or a book by one of the early church fathers to read and meditate on; the silence of evening rosary; the silence of driving to the church for
benediction afterward.
thwart
He prayed for the food first, then he asked God to forgive those who had tried to
thwart His will, who had put selfish desires first and had not wanted to visit His servant after Mass.
execution
I told Jaja what a girl in my class had said: that her mother turned their TV off, asking why she should watch fellow human beings die, asking what was wrong with all those people who had gathered at the
execution ground.
vulnerable
His eyes were swollen and red, and somehow that made him look younger, more
vulnerable.
fragment
Her eyes were vacant, like the eyes of those mad people who wandered around the roadside garbage dumps in town, pulling grimy, torn canvas bags with their life
fragments inside.
stale
Some of the holy water landed on my lips, and I tasted the
stale saltiness of it as we prayed.
baron
I knew his arrest was because of the big cover story in the last Standard, a story about how the Head of State and his wife had paid people to transport heroin abroad, a story that questioned the recent execution of three men and who the real drug
barons were.
desolate
Jaja said that when he looked through the keyhole, Papa was holding Yewande’s hand and praying, telling her to repeat “none of those who trust in Him shall be left
desolate.”
turbulence
He lumbered upstairs, each heavy step creating
turbulence in my head, and went into Jaja’s room.
acknowledge
I wanted to say I came second so that he would know immediately, so that I would
acknowledge my failure, but instead I said, “Yes,” and handed him the report card.
urge
That night, when Papa prayed, he added longer passages
urging God to bring about the downfall of the Godless men ruling our country, and he intoned over and over, “Our Lady Shield of the Nigerian People, pray for us.”
demolish
When we got into the car, Kevin told Mama that the soldiers had been ordered to
demolish the vegetable stalls because they were illegal structures.
missionary
I had heard this all before, how hard he had worked, how much the
missionary Reverend Sisters and priests had taught him, things he would never have learned from his idol-worshiping father, my Papa-Nnukwu.
faithful
Finally, stuttering, I said, “I pledge to Nigeria, my country/To be
faithful, loyal, and honest...”
confession
“I just like running,” I said, and wondered if I would count that as a lie when I made
confession next Saturday, if I would add it to the lie about not having heard Mother Lucy the first time.
steady
It was like balancing a sack of gravel on my head every day at school and not being allowed to
steady it with my hand.
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