Anthills Of The Savannah

Anthills of the Savannah employs a complex narrative structure, shifting between multiple narrators as well as first and third person. This has several effects that underscore the novel’s themes. First, it creates an atmosphere of disorientation that mimics the fear and uncertainty of the authoritarian political climate in Kangan. In Chapter 3, for example, the narrator shifts from following Chris’s perspective to following Ikem’s after the phone call. However, three paragraphs describe the struggles of an unnamed “he” to navigate traffic congestion before the narrator clarifies that “he” is Ikem. Other structural choices reinforce this sense of confusion. For instance, the novel begins in media res amid a heated Cabinet discussion; who the characters are and what they are debating emerges slowly and often implicitly over the next several pages, requiring readers to attempt to piece together a coherent narrative amid high stakes and heated exchanges. In this sense, they are in a position analogous to that of the characters.

The rotating point of view also underscores the novel’s interest in Storytelling as Cultural Preservation and Political Resistance. Achebe employs a testimonial narrative structure through the “witness” format, positioning Chris as the “First Witness” and Ikem as the “Second Witness.” This framework creates an atmosphere of legal documentation while providing contrasting perspectives on political deterioration. Chris offers an insider’s view of governmental machinations, while Ikem presents an outsider’s critical perspective. The witness format establishes the moral imperative to bear testimony while questioning the reliability of those who claim to observe objectively. Ultimately, the multiplicity of perspectives is part of the novel’s postcolonial ethos: It rejects the singular narrative of Western imperialism in favor of showcasing a broad spectrum of stories, and it finds hope in this diversity.

Given the novel’s setting in a military dictatorship, The Corrupting Nature of Absolute Power is another central theme. In these early chapters, the Palace emerges as a symbol of corrupted authority and the isolation of power from the governed. It is both physical fortress and psychological prison, where His Excellency becomes detached from reality through elaborate rituals of deference. Cabinet meetings reveal how the palace transforms democratic discourse into theatrical performance, where ministers engage in “flattery [they] have become such experts in disguising as debate” (3). The air-conditioned Council Chamber contrasts with harsh external realities, particularly the drought in Abazon, reinforcing the palace’s role as a sanctuary that breeds ignorance rather than wisdom.

Sam’s transformation into His Excellency serves as a microcosm of power’s corrupting influence. Through recollections, Achebe reveals Sam’s earlier character as someone with integrity, contrasting with his current manifestation as a paranoid dictator. The transformation occurred gradually through toxic environments and courtiers’ flattery. Sam’s adoption of mannerisms from other leaders—particularly his habit of saying “Kabisa” (an expression of finality akin to “enough!”), which he learned from President Ngongo—illustrates how authoritarian tendencies spread through imitation. This, too, is key to the novel’s postcolonial critique, as Kangan’s military dictatorship reproduces many of the same injustices of imperial rule. Meanwhile, Sam’s increasing suspicion of Chris and Ikem demonstrates how dictatorship isolates the dictator, creating cycles where paranoia breeds policies that justify further paranoia.

The drought in Abazon functions as both a literal natural disaster and a symbol of moral sterility pervading the political system. Ikem’s “Hymn to the Sun” transforms the phenomenon into cosmic judgment upon corruption, creating apocalyptic imagery that mirrors political desolation. The drought’s location in the province that refused to endorse His Excellency’s life presidency metaphorically suggests that resistance often brings suffering. The delegation’s pilgrimage to the palace seeking relief highlights how natural disasters expose the inadequacy of political systems prioritizing self-preservation over public service.