Petals of Blood

Flowers are a motif throughout the novel, beginning with the title itself. The phrase “petals of blood” comes from the poem “The Swamp” by Saint Lucian writer Derek Walcott. The poem describes the ugliness of a tree and its domination over a swamp, preventing the beauty of a flower beneath from ever truly reaching the light or blossoming. In the novel, neocolonial systems—wealth, greed, religion, education, government, and more—are the tree that prevents the beauty underneath—Kenya and its people—from ever blossoming.

The first mention of the phrase “petals of blood” comes when Munira takes his class outdoors. He attempts to explain the scientific parts of a flower but is instead interrupted by a child who exclaims “Look. A flower with petals of blood” (26). Munira’s reaction to this exemplifies the problems with education in Kenya. Instead of encouraging the students to consider nature and its beauty—and in turn, the questions that arise about man, God, and the law—he retreats back into the school where he has full control, vowing to never take them outside again. This is similar to the neocolonial education system throughout Africa: Instead of encouraging students to consider larger ideas like their position in the world, nature, and humanity, they keep them under strict control through a European education. Later, as Munira is in his cell retelling the story of what happened to Ilmorog, he remarks on “the growth of Ilmorog from its beginnings in rain and drought to the present flowering in petals of blood” (54). Again, this shows that while Ilmorog has grown and developed, it has done so through wealth and corruption, destroying the beauty of the village and its people underneath. Lastly, the phrase “petals of blood” is used to describe the fire as Munira watches it consume the brothel, bringing the title full circle to its end in destruction and death.

The idea of “flowers” and “flowering” are mentioned throughout the text as a representation of growth and development. For example, when Munira, Abdulla, and Wanja part after their first gathering, Abdulla smiles to himself and considers “beautiful petals: beautiful flowers: tomorrow would indeed be the beginning of a harvest” (49). From this point, Abdulla makes a noticeable improvement; he is less angry and bitter toward Joseph and the townspeople and finally begins to fit into the community and feel happier with his own life. This idea of flowering and growth repeats throughout the novel, in relation to Wanja’s feelings toward Karega and her own “flowering,” colonialism stopping the people of Kenya from flowering, and the growth of Abdulla’s brewery. With each persists the idea that something—a relationship, an idea, a people—needs space and freedom to grow, and outside sources can easily prevent that from happening. Finally, Karega articulates the sentiment of Africa’s people and culture’s inability to flower:

This was the society they were building: this was the society had been building since Independence, a society in which a black few, allied to other interests from Europe, would continue the colonial game of robbing others of their sweat, denying them the right to grow to full flowers in air and sunlight (348-49).

This pessimistic observation precedes Karega learning about the ongoing strike at the Theng’eta Brewery, insinuating that collective action and anticapitalist solidarity will allow Kenyans to blossom.

Lastly, Theng’eta itself is a flower and becomes central to the text. Traditionally added to alcohol by Kenyan people for its ability to induce visions, the drink is reintroduced to the village by Wanja through her grandmother’s recipe. It is first used by the central characters and allows them greater understanding of their situations. Munira, for example, dreams of Wanja, while Wanja has visions of her family and Karega is inspired to tell Mukami’s story. Here, native flora can inspire deeper knowledge and self-discovery. However, when Wanja and Abdulla decide to brew Theng’eta, what starts as a successful tool for their business turns into corporate greed and commercialization. With the loss of their land, the rights to brew it are taken away from them. The drink is mass-produced and spreads across Africa, though it’s noted that it loses its taste and effect with the expansion. Theng’eta then comes to represent the commodification of African culture, as something that started as a tradition is commercialized and misappropriated for profit by greedy owners.