God in Nigeria: the country’s novelists help us understand the complexity of Christianity

From conflict to prosperity, Nigerian novels trace a history of how Christianity has changed after colonialism. Luis Quintero/Pexels

In African literature, Christianity has usually been shown as a foreign religion brought to the continent by European missionaries and colonisers. But in the past few decades, Nigeria’s writers have dealt with it in a far more complex way as Christianity is rooted in, and transformed by, local realities, ranging from conflict to prosperity.

A new open source book by a scholar of African religion, Adriaan van Klinken, sets out to understand these changes through the eyes of Nigeria’s fiction writers. We asked him five questions.

What made you decide to use fiction to understand religion?

What fiction and religion have in common is that both are works of human imagination and meaning-making. I became interested in literary writing as a commentary on religion. As the late Kenyan writer, Ngũgĩ wa Thiong'o, put it:

The novel, like the myth and the parable, gives a view of society from its contemplation of social life, reflecting it, mirror-like, but also reflecting upon it.

In the book I ask a two-fold question. How do the novels of today’s writers represent religion as a central part of African social life? But also, how do they reflect on religion, critiquing and reimagining it?

I chose Nigeria because the country has become the continent’s major centre of both literary production and Christian growth. (According to researchers, Nigeria’s Christian population grew by 25% to 93 million from 2010 to 2020. The country is projected to have the third largest Christian population in the world by 2060.)

When I started reviewing novels by contemporary Nigerian writers, I discovered that, in many texts, Christianity is a central theme in one way or another.

So, how is Christianity being written about?

The Nigerian classic Things Fall Apart by Chinua Achebe was published in 1958. It’s about the changes and tensions in traditional Igbo society because of colonisation. Christianity is described as a newly arriving religion. At first it has little traction but thanks to its links to colonial institutions, it gradually grows its influence, causing division in society.

This critical take on Christianity by Achebe and other African writers of his generation has been well documented.

But both African literature and African Christianity have developed. The writers I discuss were born after independence and engage with Christianity in the postcolonial period.

Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie’s 2003 novel Purple Hibiscus signals a transition. In it a teenage Igbo girl, Kambili, grows up in a family dominated by a fanatically religious father.

By contrasting how faith is experienced in two Catholic families, Adichie explores the complexity of Nigerian Catholicism and its transformation from a European missionary product into something locally rooted. Towards the end, Kambili has an apparition of the Virgin Mary in a Nigerian landscape. It’s an empowering religious experience for her.

Adichie invokes Christian imagery and symbols in a story about gender issues. Other writers have done something similar in stories about issues of sexuality (Chinelo Okparanta’s Under the Udala Trees) and ecology (Chigozie Obioma’s The Fisherman). Dominant forms of Christianity are critiqued in these novels for their links to colonialism, patriarchy, homophobia, and environmental destruction. But Christian traditions are also creatively reinterpreted.

Nigerian-born sociologist Wale Adebanwi argues that African literary writers are social thinkers. I expand this to argue they’re religious thinkers, too. They think about and with religion, precisely because religion – not only Christianity, but also Islam and indigenous religions – is part of the fabric of society that shapes their own identities.

What can we learn about Christianity and conflict?

In one chapter I focus on the Biafran War (1967–1970). This tragic episode in Nigerian history is still a source of national trauma, especially among the mainly Christian Igbo people in the east. Although far from simply a religious conflict between Christians and Muslims, the civil war shows how religion is enmeshed with other major divisions in Nigerian life. Like ethnicity, economic resources, political power.

The war and its aftermaths are a big theme in Nigerian literature. I discuss two novellas – Chris Abani’s Song for Night and Uzodinma Iweala’s Beasts of No Nation. They don’t mention the war by name but can be seen as a commentary on it.

Both tell of the traumatising impact of brutal violence through the eyes of child soldiers. Both draw on Christian objects, texts, and symbols while processing postwar memory and the complex question of forgiveness. Avoiding simple answers, the books suggest Christianity might offer resources for a much-needed path of healing and reconciliation.

Another chapter is about Christian-Muslim relations. This is important given Nigeria’s religious demographics (both Christian and Muslim populations are growing fast, with Muslims in a slight majority). But also because of the history of tensions and conflicts between Christians and Muslims. This has (geo)political significance (just see US president Donald Trump’s threat of military intervention over alleged “Christian persecution” in Nigeria).

Uwem Akpan’s Luxurious Hearses (2008), E.E. Sule’s Sterile Sky (2012) and Adaobi Tricia Nwaubani’s Buried Beneath the Baobab Tree (2018) are all set in the Muslim-dominated north.

They all complicate simplistic views and offer nuanced insight into inter-religious relations in a time of escalating tensions between Christians and Muslims. Written by authors from Christian backgrounds, they interrogate the tendency among some Nigerian Christians to see Muslims as the enemy. They also suggest that Christian radicalisation is part of the problem.

By including Muslim characters who protect Christians, and other examples of Christians and Muslims living together harmoniously, these novels promote an everyday practice of neighbourliness.

How do writers discuss Pentecostalism?

Nigeria, and Lagos in particular, has been described as the Pentecostal capital of the world. Pentecostalism is a fast-growing form of Christianity. It emphasises the experience of the holy spirit, energetic worship, divine healing, and a gospel of prosperity. Nigeria (and Africa more generally) has become a major centre of Pentecostalism. As such it’s become a prominent theme in Nigerian literature.

By and large, it’s not favourably depicted. The satirical novel Foreign Gods, Inc by Okey Ndibe (2014) is a case in point. Through the character of Pastor Uka, it explores how hypocricy, exploitation and deception could accompany the prosperity gospel. It suggests Pentecostalism could be continuing the colonial project, with its hostility towards indigenous religions.

For my part I agree, but argue that the depiction of Pentecostalism in Nigerian fiction is somewhat one-sided. It fails to consider the diversity and possibilities within this movement.

Pentecostalism also gives hope to impoverished communities. It empowers people socially and economically. It creates local and global networks, and even builds new cities.

What do you hope readers will take away?

Of course, I hope people will go and read these novels (as well as many others I couldn’t include). Then they too can experience the fascinating life-worlds in them that religion is such an intricate part of.

Good literature is able to avoid simplistic accounts of religion and social life, because by including a diverse range of characters, viewpoints and events it adds nuance and complexity to the conversation.

Debates about whether Christianity has been good or bad for Africa, and Nigeria in particular, can probably never be settled, because so much depends on context and perspective. Nigeria’s writers offer just that.

This article is republished from The Conversation, a nonprofit, independent news organization bringing you facts and trustworthy analysis to help you make sense of our complex world. It was written by: Adriaan van Klinken, University of Leeds

Adriaan van Klinken does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.