EXTRACT 1

Title: Purple Hibiscus by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie

Fear. I was familiar with fear, yet each time I felt it, it was never thesame as the other times, as though it came in different flavors and colors.“Everything I do for you, I do for your own good,” Papa said. “You know that?”“Yes, Papa.” I still was not sure if he knew about the painting. He sat on my bed and held my hand. “I committed a sin against my own body once,” he said. “And the good father, the one I lived with while I went to St. Gregory’s, came in and saw me. He asked me to boil water for tea. He poured the water in a bowl and soaked my hands in it.” Papa was looking right into my eyes. I did not know he had committed any sins, that he could commit any sins. “I never sinned against my own body again. The good father did that for my own good.” he said. After Papa left, I did not think about his hands soaked in hot water for tea, the skin peeling off, his face set in tight lines of pain. Instead, I thought about the painting of Papa-Nnukw