Similes

The Poisonwood Bible

by

Barbara Kingsolver

The Poisonwood Bible: Similes 18 key examples

Definition of Simile
A simile is a figure of speech that directly compares two unlike things. To make the comparison, similes most often use the connecting words "like" or "as," but can also... read full definition
A simile is a figure of speech that directly compares two unlike things. To make the comparison, similes most often use the connecting words "like... read full definition
A simile is a figure of speech that directly compares two unlike things. To make the comparison, similes most often... read full definition
Book 1, Chapter 1
Explanation and Analysis—Picture the Forest:

In the highly descriptive opening of Book 1, Orleanna describes the Congolese jungle with imagery, similes, personification, and metaphor. This figurative language in the following passage forms a motif that will recur throughout the book: a living, personified land that reminds readers of Africa's unique environment, culture, history, and future.

First, picture the forest. I want you to be its conscience, the eyes in the trees. The trees are columns of slick, brindled bark like muscular animals overgrown beyond all reason. Every space is filled with life: delicate, poisonous frogs war-painted like skeletons, clutched in copulation, secreting their precious eggs onto dripping leaves. Vines strangling their own kin in the everlasting wrestle for sunlight. The breathing of monkeys. A glide of snake belly on branch. A single-file army of ants biting a mammoth tree into uniform grains and hauling it down to the dark for their ravenous queen. And, in reply, a choir of seedlings arching their necks out of rotted tree stumps, sucking life out of death. This forest eats itself and lives forever.

Orleanna seems to speak directly to the reader, asking them to identify with the forest and imagine themselves within it. She personifies the jungle such that it has a conscience and eyes in its trees. The trees are metaphorically columns, as if part of an awe-inspiring structure. In the same sentence, Orleanna uses a simile to describe the trees as "like muscular animals," further personifying the forest and emphasizing how alive it is. The frogs are metaphorically "war-painted," and a simile compares them to skeletons. The vines personified into stranglers of other vines. The ant queen is personified into a "ravenous" monarch. Even seedlings on the jungle floor are personified into a choir; Orleanna gives them necks and implies they have agency. All of this imagery not only helps the reader imagine this foreign setting, but also sets up one of the themes of the novel: life and death are deeply intertwined.

Book 1, Chapter 4
Explanation and Analysis—Here Comes Moses:

In Book 1, Rachel describes the prayer Nathan gives when the Prices are being welcomed to Kilanga. She compares Nathan to Moses, alluding to an important biblical figure. While Nathan would probably find this comparison flattering, Rachel means it derogatorily and accompanies it with an unflattering simile:

Then he began to speak. It was not so much a speech as a rising storm. “The Lord rideth,” he said, low and threatening, “upon a swift cloud, and shall come into Egypt.” Hurray! they all cheered, but I felt a knot in my stomach. He was getting that look he gets, oh boy, like Here comes Moses tromping down off of Mount Syanide with ten fresh ways to wreck your life. “Into Egypt,” he shouted in his rising singsong preaching voice that goes high and low, then higher and lower, back and forth like a saw ripping into a tree trunk, “and every corner of the earth where His light,” Father paused, glaring all about him, “where His light has yet to fall!”

Obviously Nathan quotes from the Bible during his sermon, but in her narration, Rachel also alludes to a biblical story, although she gets the name of the mountain wrong. (It's Mount Sinai, although "Mount Syanide" evokes the poison cyanide and is therefore fitting for the poisonous rhetoric Nathan brings to Kilanga.) Rachel compares her father to Moses, but makes the comparison unfavorable by recasting the Ten Commandments (which Moses famously brought down from Mount Sinai) as "ten fresh ways to wreck your life." She also uses a simile to compare Nathan's voice to "a saw ripping into a tree trunk," which makes his preaching violent and harsh. Finally, note the use of italics to demonstrate Nathan's "rising singsong preaching voice." Evangelical preachers are famous for their vivid rhetoric and commanding voices, and Nathan seems to be no exception.

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Book 1, Chapter 6
Explanation and Analysis—Garden Graves:

In Book 1, Leah and Nathan start a garden, but Mama Tataba insists their method of planting will be ineffective. She reshapes their garden in an attempt to help them, and Leah describes the result with metaphors and similes:

Right after prayers I went out to check the progress of our garden, and was stunned to see what Mama Tataba had meant by hills: to me they looked like graves, as wide and long as a regular dead human. She had reshaped our garden overnight into eight neat burial mounds. I fetched my father, who came walking fast as if I’d discovered a viper he meant to behead. My father by then was in a paroxysm of exasperation. He squinted long and hard with his bad eye, to make out the fix our garden was in. Then the two of us together, without a word passing between us, leveled it out again as flat as the Great Plains.

Leah thinks Mama Tataba has created a garden with hills that look "like graves" or "neat burial mounds," a morbid comparison that adds to the strangeness of her new environment. The burial mound metaphor is ironic because these "burial mounds" will actually produce life-sustaining food. In another simile, Leah says her father "came walking fast as if I'd discovered a viper he meant to behead." He seeks to impose American norms on African soil and treats the Congolese villagers' way of life as an evil—like a viper he has to kill in order to be safe. Leah and her father again make the garden "as flat as the Great Plains," a simile that references a part of America dominated by agriculture.

But the flood washes away the seeds and plants, and Nathan realizes Mama Tataba was right:

Our Father had been influenced by Africa. He was out there pushing his garden up into rectangular, flood-proof embankments, exactly the length and width of burial mounds.

Not long after he leveled the garden, Nathan reshapes it in the way Mama Tataba did earlier. This moment foreshadows much of the book's later events, when the Prices first reject, then accept, and finally rely upon the knowledge and generosity of the villagers.

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Book 1, Chapter 9
Explanation and Analysis—Education:

When Nathan learned that Adah and Leah were considered gifted by their teacher, he dismissed this information with a simile:

On first hearing Miss Leep’s news he merely rolled his eyes, as if two dogs in his yard had reportedly been caught whistling “Dixie.” He warned Mother not to flout God’s Will by expecting too much for us. “Sending a girl to college is like pouring water in your shoes,” he still loves to say, as often as possible. “It’s hard to say which is worse, seeing it run out and waste the water, or seeing it hold in and wreck the shoes.”

Adah is the narrator of this anecdote, and the first simile in this passage is hers. To describe her father's disbelief that his daughters could be intelligent, she says he rolls his eyes "as if two dogs in his yard had reportedly been caught whistling 'Dixie.'" This indicates how unlikely he thinks it is that his daughters are gifted: it would be like if someone said dogs were performing a musical duet.

The second simile is Nathan's, and he uses it to argue against his daughters' further education. He claims "sending a girl to college is like pouring water in your shoes." Either the girl will waste the education, which he compares to water escaping the shoes, or the girl will retain the education but be ruined by it, which he compares to the shoes holding water and becoming unwearable as a result. For him, women have one purpose, like shoes, and that purpose renders them unfit for education—either because they are inherently unintelligent or because they ought to be doing something else. This is one of many moments in the story where Nathan is misogynistic and unkind to his daughters. 

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Explanation and Analysis—The Platter:

In Book 1, Adah describes the left-behind broken furniture and décor in their Kilanga house. The last item she describes, with evocative imagery and a religious simile, is a beautiful platter:

And in the midst of this rabble, serene as the Virgin Mother in her barnful of shepherds and scabby livestock, one amazing, beautiful thing: a large, oval white platter painted with delicate blue forget-me-nots, bone china, so fine that sunlight passes through it. Its origin is unfathomable. If we forgot ourselves we might worship it.

Adah uses a simile to compare the platter to the Virgin Mary at the time of Jesus's birth. Like the Virgin Mary, who gave birth in a barn surrounded by animals, the plate is "one amazing, beautiful thing" amid surroundings that the Prices find unpleasantly rustic. This is yet another of the biblical allusions that fill the novel. Adah describes the appearance of the plate with rich visual imagery, and it seems so delicate that it glows when sunlight passes through it. Her claim that "we might worship it" could be read as a joke. But it can also be taken somewhat literally because, at this point, the Price women do seem to crave beautiful objects and reminders of their American lives. The earlier comparison to the Virgin Mary also complicates the "worship" statement: the Prices, as Protestants, would likely disapprove of the Catholic ritual of praying to and venerating Mary. So in this paragraph, the plate becomes a semi-taboo idol of what they might few as a lesser religion.

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Book 2, Chapter 13
Explanation and Analysis—Father of Fish Bait:

In Book 2, Orleanna describes Nathan's understanding of Christianity with metaphors, similes, and irony that highlight her confusions about his faith:

But Nathan wouldn’t hear my worries. For him, our life was as simple as paying in cash and sticking the receipt in your breast pocket: we had the Lord’s protection, he said, because we came to Africa in His service. Yet we sang in church “Tata Nzolo”! Which means Father in Heaven or Father of Fish Bait depending on just how you sing it, and that pretty well summed up my quandary. I could never work out whether we were to view religion as a life-insurance policy or a life sentence. I can understand a wrathful God who’d just as soon dangle us all from a hook. And I can understand a tender, unprejudiced Jesus. But I could never quite feature the two of them living in the same house. You wind up walking on eggshells, never knowing which Tata Nzolo is home at the moment.

With a simile, Orleanna compares Nathan's naïve faith to keeping receipts. The simple process of paying for something, keeping the receipt, and getting reimbursed for the purchase later by an authority figure makes more sense in the United States than it does in the Congo, where they are no receipts and, it seems, no reimbursements. Unlike Nathan, Orleanna doubts that their lives are inherently safe because they are on a mission to spread Christianity.

There is also irony in double meaning of "Nzolo," since it can either mean something holy or something humorously and unintentionally gross. Orleanna expands this ironic misunderstanding to show the reader her wavering faith in God. She says she understands the Father of Fish Bait, a vengeful God who would metaphorically "just as soon dangle us from a hook." She also understands a kind and conventional Jesus who is Father in Heaven. But she cannot imagine them metaphorically "living in the same house," as in, being part of the same divinity, which is how Protestants understand God and Jesus.

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Book 2, Chapter 21
Explanation and Analysis—Disease:

In Book 2, children and babies in Kilanga begin falling seriously ill. Adah describes their deaths with a metaphor:

They are all dying. Dying from kakakaka, the disease that turns the body to a small black pitcher, pitches it over, and pours out all its liquid insides.

Kakakaka metaphorically turns the babies into a "small black pitcher" and then spills the contents of the pitcher. This is a sad and vivid image of the death by dehydration that babies suffer if they have untreated diarrhea. Whatever kakakaka is (presumably some sort of bacterial infection), it causes water to leave the babies faster than it can be replenished.  The reader isn't told the English name of the disease, just that it spreads more quickly during rainy seasons. Eventually, Adah says that wave of deaths has subsided, and she uses a simile to describe the aftermath:

Now the thunderstorms have ended. The funerals are drying up as slowly as the puddles. [...] The women beat out their sisal mats and replant their fields while grieving for lost children.

Just as the rain caused the deaths, so too do the funerals seem to mirror the water left over after the deluge: they dry up, but slowly. The impact of both the thunderstorms and the kakakaka they brought remains a mark on the land and village. Nor do the mothers who lost children have any downtime to grieve. Instead, they simultaneously mourn and do the housework necessary to sustain themselves and their families.

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Book 3, Chapter 26
Explanation and Analysis—No Wings:

In Book 3, Orleanna describes her childhood and eventual marriage to Nathan. As the reader already knows from the rest of the novel, Nathan has treated Orleanna poorly. As if to defend or explain her choices (perhaps to the reader or to Ruth May), Orleanna uses metaphor, personification, and simple to describe why she put up with Nathan's behavior for so long:

Like Methuselah I cowered beside my cage, and though my soul hankered after the mountain, I found, like Methuselah, I had no wings. This is why, little beast. I’d lost my wings. Don’t ask me how I gained them back—the story is too unbearable. I trusted too long in false reassurances, believing as we all want to do when men speak of the national interest, that it’s also ours. In the end, my lot was cast with the Congo. Poor Congo, barefoot bride of men who took her jewels and promised the Kingdom.

In a simile, Orleanna compares herself to the family's pet bird, Methuselah. When Nathan opened Methuselah's cage, expecting the bird to fly away, Methuselah refused out of fear and disuse of his wings. Orleanna sees her own willingness to follow and obey Nathan in the same light: she feels she is simply not used to exerting her own agency and therefore doesn't. Metaphorically, then, she "had no wings." Orleanna also personifies the Congo into a "barefoot bride of men" who promised the Congo safety and growth but instead robbed the country. This comparison reminds the reader of Orleanna's own past as an unsuspecting, obedient, and impoverished bride to Nathan.

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Book 3, Chapter 31
Explanation and Analysis—The Mwanza Family:

In Book 3, Leah asks Anatole why Americans are in the Congo if Belgium owns the Congo. In response to her poor choice of words, Anatole asks her to look around: does this village really belong to Belgium? Did it ever? Leah sees the Mwanza family and describes their life with similes and imagery:

I looked, as he commanded: Mama Mwanza with her disfigured legs and her small, noble head both wrapped in bright yellow calico. In the hard-packed dirt she sat as if planted there, in front of a little fire that licked at her dented cooking can. She leaned back on her hands and raised her face to the sky, shouting her bidding, and a chorus of halfhearted answers came back from her boys inside the mud-thatch house. Near the open doorway, the two older daughters stood pounding manioc in the tall wooden mortar. As one girl raised her pounding club the other girl’s went down into the narrow hole—up and down, a perfect, even rhythm like the pumping of pistons.

One simile says Mama Mwanza sits "as if planted." This is a comparison that allows readers to better imagine the sitting position of this woman, whose legs are damaged. This simile also suggests that it is Mama Mwanza, and not Belgium or any other power that lays claim to the Congo, who is of this land. In other words, she grows from the Congolese environment. In another simile, Leach says that the Mwanza daughters pound manioc with the steady rhythm of pistons. This device, as well as the imagery throughout the paragraph, allows readers a taste of the everyday life of a Congolese family. Visual and auditory details such as Mama Mwanza's call and the fire licking a "dented cooking can" not only allow readers to more vividly imagine the domestic life of a rural Congolese family, but they also indicate that Leah is paying more attention to the people around her and their lives.

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Book 3, Chapter 41
Explanation and Analysis—Permanent as a Heartbeat:

In Book 3, Leah and Anatole once again talk about the differences between the Congo and the United States. Leah describes the jungle and compares the Congo's natural environment that of the United States using metaphors, similes, and imagery:

I stared at the edge of the clearing behind us, where the jungle closed us out with its great green wall of trees, bird calls, animals breathing, all as permanent as a heartbeat we heard in our sleep. Surrounding us was a thick, wet, living stand of trees and tall grasses stretching all the way across Congo. And we were nothing but little mice squirming through it in our dark little pathways. In Congo, it seems the land owns the people. How could I explain to Anatole about soybean fields where men sat in huge tractors like kings on thrones, taming the soil from one horizon to the other? It seemed like a memory trick or a bluegreen dream: impossible.

Leah metaphorically calls the jungle a green wall, a seemingly impenetrable and mysterious force. And her simile says that this jungle is "as permanent as a heartbeat"—in other words, the jungle is a steady and often unnoticed but necessary and omnipresent part of Congolese life. Another metaphor makes the humans into "little mice," which demonstrates that anyone living in the Congo is vulnerable and will have to fight for his or her life without any certainty in what comes next. When Leah reflects on American farming, she uses a simile to compare farmers on their tractors to "kings on thrones." Americans, she says, feel an ownership and power over their land. In contrast, the Congo's natural environment seems to control the people who live there. Leah also conjures up visual, tactile, and auditory imagery to describe the forest: she mentions bird calls, the breathing of animals, and the color and wetness of the flora.

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Book 3, Chapter 44
Explanation and Analysis—Ants:

In Book 3, Leah describes her first sight of the ant swarm with similes, metaphors, and imagery.

Ants. We were walking on, surrounded, enclosed, enveloped, being eaten by ants. Every surface was covered and boiling, and the path like black flowing lava in the moonlight. Dark, bulbous tree trunks seethed and bulged. The grass had become a field of dark daggers standing upright, churning and crumpling in on themselves. We walked on ants and ran on them, releasing their vinegary smell to the weird, quiet night.

The ants are metaphorically "boiling" the landscape. With a simile, Leah compares the ants to "black flowing lava." The ants also make the trees metaphorically seethe and turn the grass into a "field of dark daggers." The first two of these comparisons evokes painfully hot liquid, and all of the metaphors are violent or destructive in some way. Additionally, Leah's description of the ants is full of visual and sensory imagery: every surface is covered by these tiny black creatures that constantly scurry over the landscape, and the ants even smell "vinegary" when stepped on. All of this figurative language allows the reader to imagine the overwhelming violence and pain of an ant swarm.

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Book 4, Chapter 49
Explanation and Analysis—Sacrificial Pawns:

Book 4 opens with an extended metaphor and simile that explain the history of the Congo. In part through a chess metaphor, Orleanna relates to the reader the Belgian Congo's attempts to achieve self-government and independence, which more powerful nations such as the United States and Belgium undermined:

Languidly they bring their map to order. Who will be the kings, the rooks, and bishops rising up to strike at a distance? Which sacrificial pawns will be swept aside? African names roll apart like the heads of dried flowers crushed idly between thumb and forefinger—Ngoma, Mukenge, Mulele, Kasavubu, Lumumba. They crumble to dust on the carpet.

This stylized retelling of late-20th-century African history is accurate: during the Cold War, the United States and its allies were extraordinarily concerned that underdeveloped nations like the newly independent Congo would elect communist leaders and ally themselves with the Soviet Union. Perhaps the most famous example of the Soviet Union and United States battling over a foreign nation's allegiance is the Vietnam War. One of the purposes of The Poisonwood Bible is to persuade American readers, through the viewpoints of American characters like Orleanna, that they should oppose their government's interference in the domestic operations of other countries.

In this extended chess metaphor, the world powers that seek to manipulate the Congo are calm chess players, moving powerful and vulnerable pieces alike to achieve their goals. As part of this violent game, the chess players weigh the benefits and drawbacks of certain African leaders they would like to either place into power or depose. The simile that compares "African names" to flowers "crushed idly between thumb and forefinger" indicates that, just as the chess players do not care about the well-being of their pawns, they do not mind sacrificing leaders like Lumumba to get what they want. The powers-that-be use, manipulate, and kill these African leaders without much thought or care. Both racism and imperialism are ideologies that enable the West to "idly" kill or imprison African leaders for the West's gain.

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Book 4, Chapter 50
Explanation and Analysis—Voting on Jesus:

In Book 4, village chief Tata Ndu interrupts one of Nathan's sermons to hold an election on Jesus Christ. In The Poisonwood Bible, democracy and Christianity are both ideologies that Westerners encourage Africans to adopt. By combining them, Tata Ndu undermines Nathan's power and generates situational irony: the two programs seem to have a fundamental incompatibility.

Tata Ndu turned directly to Father and spoke to him in surprisingly careful English, rolling his r’s, placing every syllable like a stone in a hand. “Tata Price, white men have brought us many programs to improve our thinking,” he said. “The program of Jesus and the program of elections. You say these things are good. You cannot say now they are not good.”

By setting up an election for Jesus, Tata Ndu points out the conflict between Christianity and democracy, which are both ideologies brought from more developed Western nations to Africa. A simile compares Ndu's careful pronouncement of his English words to the precise placement of stones. This simile suggests Ndu's words have weight, like rocks, and that he handles them exactly and mindfully. He wants his message completely understood.

When Tata Ndu tells Nathan that "You say these things are good," he speaks both to Nathan as an evangelical, who has insisted that civilized people are Christians with democracies, and to foreigners who hope to "civilize" Africa in general. The election on Jesus generates situational irony because, despite insisting both Christianity and democracy are good, Nathan also insists they cannot be combined in this way. He also can't offer a coherent reason as to why they cannot be combined. Tata Ndu undermines Western imperial ideology by taking its arguments to their logical extreme, a process that leads to the democratic village-wide rejection of Christianity. Tata Ndu works within the Western framework he's been presented, but in doing so, he makes that same framework seem arbitrary and half-baked.

It's worth mentioning that Christianity and democracy have both coexisted and clashed over Western history. A more thoughtful or patient evangelist than Nathan might have been able to explain why voting on Jesus is a bad idea. But what Ndu rejects here is not necessarily democracy or even Christianity. Instead, he rejects Nathan's self-righteousness and conviction that Americans are more intelligent, civilized, and logical than the Congolese villagers.

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Book 4, Chapter 52
Explanation and Analysis—Slow Scavengers :

In Book 4, Kilanga experiences a drought that begins a famine. The villagers decide, as a last resort, to undertake a special kind of hunt, during which they will set fire to a section of the landscape to trap and kill animals. With imagery and similes, Adah describes scavenging through the burnt land for dead insects to eat:

We were like odd ruined flagpoles, bent double, with our bright clothes flapping. Slow scavengers. We fanned out across the hissing black field, picking up charred insects. Most common were the crisp nguka caterpillars, favorite snack of Anatole’s schoolboys, which resembled small twigs and were impossible to see until I learned to sense their particular gray curve. We picked them up by the basketful until they filled my mind’s eye so completely I knew I would see them in my sleep.

One simile compares the scavengers to "ruined flagpoles," bent to search for food with their clothes flapping behind them. Notice as well that Adah says "we were like odd ruined flagpoles," as opposed to saying either "I was" or "they were." The use of "we" suggests that she has become one of the villagers in this moment, and just like them, she must scrounge for burnt insects in order to feed herself. The imagery is visual and auditory: the flagpole metaphor allows readers to better imagine the sight of the scavenging, and Adah also tells the reader that the field still hisses from the fire that has passed over it. The caterpillars look like "small twigs" that blend into the ground so well that Adah must sense them rather than seeing them.

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Book 5, Chapter 62
Explanation and Analysis—Grief:

In Book 5, Orleanna uses similes to describe her grief over Ruth May's death:

As long as I kept moving, my grief streamed out behind me like a swimmer’s long hair in water. I knew the weight was there but it didn’t touch me. Only when I stopped did the slick, dark stuff of it come floating around my face, catching my arms and throat till I began to drown. So I just didn’t stop. The substance of grief is not imaginary. It’s as real as rope or the absence of air, and like both those things it can kill. My body understood there was no safe place for me to be.

In a simile, Orleanna compares her grief to a "swimmer's long hair in water." Just as a swimmer's hair floats behind her while she goes forward but will collect around her face when she stops, Orleanna tells the reader that while escaping her grief is impossible, there is a way to avoid feeling it: continuing to move. At least while she's still in the Congo, she has plenty of things to distract herself, such as keeping her remaining children alive and safe. But if she can't find things to do, the grief will drag her down like heavy tendrils of hair.

Then, two more similes express the idea that Orleanna's grief is "as real as rope or the absence of air" and likewise might kill her. These similes, which suggest strangulation, give the reader a sense of how grief physically feels for Orleanna (like having no air), and they also emphasize the seriousness of the despair she is in. Both similes here also tie back to the swimming simile before, because the hair that Orleanna metaphorically says strangles her is rope-like, and drowning involves an absence of air. This series of interconnected literary devices makes Orleanna's grief and hopelessness more vivid and visceral for the reader.

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Book 5, Chapter 68
Explanation and Analysis—The Price of a Life:

In Book 5, Leah describes the Congolese reaction to Mobutu's corrupt and inept rule. She uses metaphor and simile to explain that no one powerful cares when Congolese people die, and that only white people's lives will be protected:

They know who stands behind Mobutu, and that in some place as far away as heaven, where the largest rules are made, white and black lives are different kinds of currencies. When thirty foreigners were killed in Stanleyville, each one was tied somehow to a solid exchange, a gold standard like the hard Belgian franc. But a Congolese life is like the useless Congolese bill, which you can pile by the fistful or the bucketful into a merchant’s hand, and still not purchase a single banana.

Leah uses a simile to compare the place "where the largest rules are made," which can be understood to mean America and Europe, to heaven. Just as the God that Nathan believes in seems arbitrary, fickle, distant and uncaring, the powerful men of the world are likewise withdrawn and cruel.

Metaphorically, for these powerful men who run Western governments, "white and black lives are different kinds of currencies." White lives—such as those of the murdered foreigners and even, to an extent, the lives of the Prices—are valued enough for foreign nations to take notice when those lives are threatened. Metaphorically comparing white lives to the "hard Belgian franc" also reminds the reader that this imbalance is a result of colonialism, since Belgium once controlled the Congo. Because white lives, like the Belgian franc, are tied to something valuable (an influential former colonial power and gold, respectively), they are worth protecting. Congolese lives are metaphorically compared to Congolese currency—like the currency, Congolese lives are not valued by people in the West or elsewhere.

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Book 6, Chapter 77
Explanation and Analysis—The Land Howls:

In Book 6, Leah uses multiple literary devices (metaphor, simile, personification, imagery, and idiom) to explain the natural environment of the Congo and the unique farming techniques it requires:

Clearing a rain forest to plant annuals is like stripping an animal first of its fur, then its skin. The land howls. Annual crops fly on a wing and a prayer. And even if you manage to get a harvest, why, you need roads to take it out! Take one trip overland here and you’ll know forever that a road in the jungle is a sweet, flat, impossible dream. The soil falls apart. The earth melts into red gashes like the mouths of whales. Fungi and vines throw a blanket over the face of the dead land. It’s simple, really. Central Africa is a rowdy society of flora and fauna that have managed to balance together on a trembling geologic plate for ten million years: when you clear off part of the plate, the whole slides into ruin.

This description of the jungle helps the reader understand how its composition influences farming and life in the Congo. The visual imagery of red soil, fungi, and vines allows us to imagine this elaborate and fragile balance of plants and animals. Leah personifies the jungle, first with simile in which she compares "clearing a rain forest" to "stripping an animal first of its fur, then its skin," which indicates how abhorrent she finds deforesting. The personified land "howls," has a face, and can die. Another simile compares the destroyed soil to "the mouths of whales." Metaphorically, "fungi and vines throw a blanket" over the destroyed earth. Finally, the "rowdy society of flora and fauna" evokes a crowded, lively, and barely cooperative community. 

Leah also uses the idiom "fly on a wing and a prayer" to describe the often unsuccessful attempt to grow annual crops. (As opposed to perennial plants, annuals must be replanted each harvest, so they are not permanent parts of the land.) To fly on a wing and a prayer means to attempt something that will probably not succeed, like a plane landing with only one wing left. 

She metaphorically calls this ecosystem a "trembling geologic plate." This is also literal, since Africa (like all continents) is shaped by the movement of tectonic plates. But the plate becomes metaphorical when Leah describes deforestation in the Congo as "[clearing] off part of the plate" and creating an imbalance. This imbalance causes the plate to tilt and everything to fall off, just as deforestation hurts the rest of the environment in the Congo.

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Book 7
Explanation and Analysis—New Life:

In Book 7, the reader gets a glimpse into a hopeful future for the Congo. Mobutu, stricken with cancer, has given up his dictatorship of the Congo, and an unknown narrator describes the hope this fresh start inspires with metaphorical language and personification:

Thirty-five years of sleep like death, and now the murdered land draws a breath, moves its fingers, takes up life through its rivers and forests. The eyes in the trees are watching. The animals open their mouths and utter joyful, astonishing words. The enslaved parrot Methuselah, whose flesh has been devoured now by many generations of predators, is forcing his declaration of independence through the mouths of leopards and civet cats.

In this passage, the personified land revives itself from its previous murder and becomes alive again. The murder of the land is a metaphor that could refer either to the destruction of Congolese self-determination or the destruction of the actual land for food and natural resources (or both). Personified animals "utter joyful, astonishing words," which makes the natural environment of Congo sound like a being with agency that desires self-determination and a capable government as much as the Congolese people do.

Methuselah, the Prices' pet parrot who was eaten after Nathan set him free, also returns as a symbol in this passage. Recall that Methuselah repeated the words and phrases of the Price family, the villagers, and Brother Fowles. Alongside curse words and Kikongo greetings, Methuselah also apparently picked up the call for Congolese independence. This reference to Methuselah could be read as a metaphor for those killed or harmed in fight for independence: despite their deaths, the call for independence survives, and their ideas continue to spread.

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