Gender politics and the Myth of the Jealous Sea-King in Elechi Amadi’s The Concubine | Clara Ijeoma Osuji

Commonly, there is a fatalistic edge to artistic portrayals of women that can easily be associated with gender politics. In The Concubine, Elechi Amadi weaves a narrative where the myth of the jealous Sea-king becomes a cultural tool for reinforcing patriarchal ideologies, overshadowing the protagonist’s virtues and perpetuating a gendered narrative that binds women to cycles of negativity and disempowerment. Hints of gender politics in literature are often perceived through patriarchal tools such as culturally-sanctioned myths, folklores, proverbs and taboos that work, largely, to denigrate and stigmatise females. In this manner, the female gender has recurrently been relegated and, thus, hindered from accessing equal placements in the power structure that, conventionally, elevates males in communities. This essay attempts to contextualize the idea of the superiority of Culture (prescribed by conquering-males) over Nature (represented by conquered-females) by examining the myth of the Sea-King in Amadi’s The Concubine and situating this destructive myth within contemporary gender politics. 

The essay argues that the myth of the jealous Sea-King appears to be part of longstanding patriarchal gender politics that are, evidently, calculated to favour males and targeted at making females come across at once as inferior, shrouded in mystery, and burdened with an unnecessary sense of guilt. Thus, similar to other females depicted in literary writings such as the characters of Celia, in John Munonye’s Oil Man of Obange, Firdaus, in Nawaal El Saadawi’s Woman At Point Zero and Ebla, in Nurudin Farah’s From A Crooked Rib; Ihuoma suffers because of her gender. In this instance, she suffers due to a gender-politicised mythic worldview of Omokachi community in southeastern Nigeria, within the worldview of the novel.

The gender-equality-sensitive reader steadily discerns the embedded gender politics as the story in Amadi’s remarkable first novel, The Concubine, unfolds in a pre-colonial Igbo community. The eponymous female protagonist, Ihuoma, is a very beautiful woman, kind and carries herself with dignity. In spite of her eventual status as a widow and a mother of three children, Ihuoma becomes a highly sought-after bride in the community. Later, a respected native doctor says that a Sea-King claims Ihuoma as his wife and would kill any man that intends to marry her. The implication of Ihuoma’s status as wife to a Sea-King is that she is not allowed to marry another man. Thus, she was just a concubine to late husband, Emenike, because her supposed pre-existing marriage to the Sea-King nullifies her earthly marriage(s). Thus, she is bound by the shackles of communal myth that make her guilty of the death of any man that either marries her or seriously intends to marry her. Typically, culture erects prohibitive structures that promote female-suffocation and a sense of inequality/inadequacy that smolders female productivity (Osuji, 47). Thus, myths can subtly or explicitly reinforce traditional gender roles, portraying women as passive, submissive, or even dangerous, while men are often depicted as strong, rational, and authoritative but sometimes at the mercy of uncanny females. 

In Omokachi community, such prohibitive structure is the factor of superstition that is perpetuated through a myth. Myths, alongside folklore and proverbs, are powerful cultural tools that reinforce and even politicize gender ideology. They often marginalise women by shaping societal expectations and norms through narratives, symbolism, and the transmission of values. Consequently, in Amadi’s The Concubine, Ihuoma cannot function effectively and live like other women because her sense of self-worth has been depreciated. The myth in which Ihuoma is shrouded within the narrative makes her admirable traits and attributes pale into insignificance. After all, of what use is a beautiful and well-behaved woman that leaves death and destruction in her trail?

Under the guise of culture, Ihuoma is unduly encumbered by Omokachi’s male-friendly communal worldviews. Italian psychoanalyst and gender scholar, Luigi Zoja, explains that “culture is male, nature is female” (19). Zoja’s explanation simply means that males not only steer the direction of culture but also dictate the ingredients therein. Often, this role allows them to exercise unbridled  hegemony. If culture subdues nature, and myth is rooted in culture, then, myth is male and becomes the direct cultural instrument through which Ihuoma is subdued. She remains caught up in a loop, with no hope of ever resolving her challenge as the wife of an invisible husband – a creation of culture. After her tragic marriage to Emenike and relationship with Ekwueme, the tar of having a killer-sea-husband becomes a heavy tag that Ihuoma must learn to contend with all her life. She is, in the spiritual realm, married to a powerful-being that resides in the sea. The assumption is that since the Sea-King had established his marriage to her in his water kingdom even before her male admirers started to court her, he (the Sea-King) is the aggrieved spouse. Ihuoma cannot risk venturing into any marital relationship otherwise the wrath of the Sea-King would be unleashed which would, ultimately, cause the death of her spouse. Consequently, the deaths of Emenike, Ekwueme and Madume are linked to her. Ihuoma’s supposed highly jealous Sea-King-husband makes her a pathetic spectacle. She becomes an aberration – a ruined beauty that must stay unappreciated and unmarried.   

 The exploration of Ihuoma’s travails brings to the fore a male-dominated system where questions are not asked about a sea-being that claims a human-female as his wife. The veracity of this destructive belief is not probed because, similar to other communities in most parts Nigeria and the African continent, Omokachi’s worldviews and cultural practices are often predicated on male hegemony. Thus, the myth of the Sea-King appears to be a mere fable invented to ensure that females such as Ihuoma are marginalised, hounded by a sense of inadequacy and a perpetual  burden of guilt.  But the question is, in the community of Amadi’s fictional Omokachi, are all sea-beings males? Interestingly, what most pro-feminist readers and other gender-equality analysts would, more likely, investigate is the idea that the superstition that holds Ihuoma captive in the community (and by implication, queries her very humanity), has no male counterpart. Consequently, there is no male individual that suffers under a similar yoke of a forced-marriage to a female sea-being. 

Also, gender-fairness readers are wont to raise other questions such as, “Are there hints to male concubinage in the text?” This query, in turn, might raise a flurry of other questions such as, “Have males in Omokachi that either regularly cohabit with women (that are not customarily  married to them) or men that have casual sexual escapades with other women, drawn the ire of any Sea-Queen?” What appellation(s) would be attached to those categories of males under the above-stated circumstance(s)? Searching for, and perhaps, providing answers to these inquiries will further deepen the understanding of the level of gender politics that are, generally, tied to specific communal practices. The answers would provide more insight into the communal worldviews that typically marginalise females by victimizing them as wives of a sea-king while exonerating males from being tagged husbands of a Sea-Queen.

The use of the uncanny as a weapon to politicise negatively gendered traits has historically been represented as a predominantly female issue, rooted in cultural structures that associate women with mystery, danger, and otherness from literary antiquity to contemporary times. For instance, in Homer’s epic poem – The Odyssey, Circe is depicted as a dangerous and seductive female figure, who transforms Odysseus’s men into pigs. Also, in Greek Mythology, Medusa is perceived as a dreadful female creature with snakes for hair who turns anyone who looks at her into stone. Thus, from myths of witches wielding dark powers to the femme fatale trope in mythology, literature, film and arts, cultural narratives have often framed the uncanny as a female domain.  

In contrast, men are rarely subjected to such depictions; their engagement with the uncanny is typically framed as heroic and admirable which further perpetuate a skewed politicisation of gender traits. Thus, in The Concubine, the uncanny gendered idea of spiritual marriage becomes a female problem; the Sea-King asserts his supposed superior power of immortality over Ihuoma by progressively devastating her through deaths of her spouse/suitors and, ultimately, promoting a sense of dread and unease around her in Omokachi. The gender-politicised fatalistic angle to Ihuoma’s beauty, decorum and kindness, brings to mind Leonardo da Vinci’s 16^th-century portrait, Mona Lisa. 

Remarkably, the beautiful lady on the portrait sits, backing a natural landscape that resonates with the nature-female synthesis. There is a disquieting aura associated with the portrait due to the changing moods within the same portrait as it is being viewed. Art viewers often find her faint smile mysterious and a huge interest in this artistic piece stems from that enigmatic smile that rather comes across as uncanny. Similar to Ihuoma’s situation, there is a fatalistic perspective that Mona Lisa seems to hold for male arts enthusiasts – a foreboding that holds them spellbound. While Mona Lisa is a mere portrait, and Ihuoma is a living individual within the worldview of the narrative, there is a pattern that points to the general association of the uncanny with the artistic representation of women.

 Ihuoma’s story is the story of every female that has been a victim of socio-religious myths and patriarchal worldviews. The myth of the jealous Sea-King, wherein women are unconsciously married to sea-spirits, serves to further weaken the socio-cultural status of women. This male-friendly myth, backed by other cultural prescriptions and worldviews that favour men’s already-elevated placement in communal gender hierarchies, makes females mere victims of gender politics. Identities such as the wife of a jealous Sea-King foster a sense of anxiety and promote stigmatisation. Interestingly, there is no reference to a female counterpart of a spiritual being who marries male members of the community without their consent or even their knowledge in the text.  Consequently, there are no male stories on uncanny individuals who leave sorrow and death in their marital trails or intimate relationships with women. None. 

Sadly, Ihuoma becomes a negatively branded woman – doomed to a life of being recognized as the wife/queen of an imaginary jealous Sea-king and compelled to endure communal spite due to no fault of hers. She is forever condemned to the lived-reality of a low, undignified and scandalous social status of a concubine in a community where superstition forms a significant part of grand gender-politicism. 

The above-mentioned situation of grand gender-politicism, in turn, becomes a veritable tool of female suppression that brings to the fore the destructive power of patriarchal storytelling. The once-vibrant, beautiful, morally-sensitive and self-respecting woman becomes a shadow of her charming personality by the end of the narrative because of the communal fear of a supposed destructive propensity of an imaginary Sea-King.

 Works Cited

• Elechi Amadi. The Concubine.  Heinemann, 1966.
• El Saadawi, Nawal. Woman At Point Zero. (1975). Translated by Sherif Hetata, Zed Books, 2015.    
• Da Vinci, Leonardo. Mona Lisa. [Painting] 1503-1506. Oil on Wood. Louvre, Paris.
• Farah, Nurudeen. From a Crooked Rib. Heinemann, 1970.
• Homer. The Odyssey. London : New York :W. Heinemann; G.P. Putnam’s sons, 1919.
• Macquire, Kelly. “Medusa.” World History Encyclopedia. World History Encyclopedia, 14 Jun 2022. Web. 07 Apr 2025.
• Munonye, John.  Oil Man of Obange. Heinemann, 1966.
• Osuji, Clara Ijeoma. “Stripped of the Vestiges of Dignity: Unpacking the Knapsack of Female-Suffocation in John Munonye’s Oil Man of Obange and Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie’s Purple Hibiscus.” Preorc Journal of Gender and Sexualities Studies. Vol. 1(2019): 47-64.
• Zoja luigi. “Centaurs. A Violent Masculine Myth” Interdisciplinary Journal of    Family Studies,  XVII,   2((2012): 17-24.  JSTOR. Web. 6 Jun, 2014.
  

Clara Ijeoma Osuji currently teaches in the Department of English, Augustine University, Ilara-Epe, Lagos State, Nigeria. She holds a Ph.D. in Literature from the University of Lagos, Nigeria, where she taught English for three academic sessions as a Graduate Fellow. She is a Fellow of the American Council of Learned Society/African Humanities Program. Some of her creative writings and research efforts have been published both locally and internationally, in journals and edited volumes.