Arrow of God (25 page)

Nwafo’s sister Obiageli cried for a long time after their mother and the others left for Okperi. Oduche’s promise to pick her
icheku
and
udala
did not console her. In the end Obika threatened to go and call out the fearsome masked spirit called Ichele. This produced an immediate result. Obiageli sat in one corner of the
obi
sniffling quietly.

As night drew near Nwafo’s mind returned to the thought which had been troubling him since yesterday. What would happen to the new moon? He knew his father had been expecting it before he went away. Would it follow him to Okperi or would it wait for his return? If it appeared in Okperi with what metal gong would Ezeulu receive it? Nwafo looked at the
ogene
which lay by the wall, the stick with which it was beaten showing at its mouth. The best solution was for the new moon to wait for his return tomorrow.

However as dusk came down Nwafo took his position where his father always sat. He did not wait very long before he saw the young thin moon. It looked very thin and reluctant. Nwafo reached for the
ogene
and made to beat it but fear stopped his hand.

*

Ezeulu was still hearing in his mind the voices of the children of Government Hill when Nwodika’s son and his wife brought him his supper. As usual Nwodika’s son took a ball of foofoo, dipped it in the soup and swallowed. Ezeulu ate with a good appetite. Although he would not eat
egusi
soup out of choice this one was so well prepared that one hardly knew it was
egusi
. The fish in it was either
asa
or something equally good, and it had been smoked half dry which was the beauty of that type of fish. The foofoo had a very good texture, neither too light nor too heavy; no doubt the cassava had been lightened with green bananas.

He was half-way through his meal when his son, his wife and his friend arrived. They were shown in by the Head Messenger whose duty it was to look after prisoners detained in the guardroom. At first Ezeulu feared that something bad had happened at home. But when he saw the yams they brought his mind returned again.

‘Why did you not wait till morning?’

‘We did not know whether you would be setting out for home in the morning,’ said Akuebue.

‘Home?’ Ezeulu laughed. It was the laughter of those who do not cry. ‘Who talks of home? I have not seen the white man who sent for me. They say he is in the mouth of death. Perhaps he wants a Chief Priest to be sacrificed at his funeral.’

‘The earth of Umuaro forbid!’ said Akuebue, and the others joined in.

‘Are we at Umuaro now?’ asked Ezeulu.

‘If the man is sick and he has not left a message for you then you should go home and come again when he is well,’ said Edogo, who did not think that this was the place for his father and his friend to engage in their battle of words.

‘This is not a journey I want to do twice. No, I shall sit here until I have seen the head and the tail of this matter.’

‘Do you know how long he will be sick? You may be here…’

‘If he is sick till palm fruits ripen at the tip of the frond I shall wait… How are the people at home, Ugoye?’

‘They were well when we left them.’ Her neck looked shorter from carrying the load.

‘The children, Obika’s wife and all the others?’

‘Everybody was well.’

‘And what about the people of your household?’ he asked Akuebue.

‘They were quiet when I left them. There was no sickness only hunger.’

‘That is a small matter,’ said Nwodika’s son. ‘Hunger is better than sickness.’ As he said this he went outside and blew his nose. He came back rubbing the nose with the back of his hand.

‘Nwego, you need not wait to collect the utensils. I shall bring them home. Go and find something for these people to eat.’

His wife took Ugoye’s head-load and the two women went to prepare another meal.

There was no time to waste and as soon as the women left Akuebue spoke.

‘Obika has told us how Nwodika’s son and his wife have been taking care of you.’

‘You have seen with your eyes.’ Ezeulu’s mouth was full of fish.

‘Thank you,’ said Akuebue to John Nwodika.

‘Thank you,’ said Edogo.

‘We have done nothing that calls for thanks. What can a poor man and his wife do? We know that Ezeulu has meat and fish in his own house but while he is here we will share the palm kernel we eat with him. A woman cannot place more than the length of her leg on her husband.’

‘When Obika told us about it I said to myself that there was nothing like travelling.’

‘True,’ said Ezeulu. ‘The young he-goat said that but for his sojourn in his mother’s clan he would not have learnt to stick up his upper lip.’ He laughed to himself. ‘I should have travelled more often in my mother’s country.’

‘It has certainly taken away your heavy face of yesterday,’ said Akuebue. ‘When they told me that a man of Umunneora was looking after you I told them it was a lie. How could it be seeing the war we wage at home?’

‘That is for the people at home,’ said Nwodika’s son. ‘I do not carry it with me when I travel. Our wise men have said that a traveller to distant places should make no enemies. I stand by it.’

‘Very true,’ said Akuebue, wondering how best to lead on to the object of his coming. After a short pause he decided to split it open with one blow of the matchet as the people of Nsugbe were said to split their coconut. ‘Our journey has two aims. We brought Ugoye to relieve Nwodika’s wife of her burden and to thank Nwodika himself and tell him that whatever his kinsmen may be doing at home he is today a brother to Ezeulu and his family.’ As he said this Akuebue was already searching arm-deep in his goatskin bag for his little razor and kolanut. The tying of the blood-knot between Edogo and John Nwodika was over in the short silence that followed. Ezeulu and Akuebue watched in silence as the two young men ate a lobe of kolanut smeared with each other’s blood.

‘How did you come to work for the white man?’ asked Akuebue when they resumed ordinary talking. Nwodika’s son cleared his throat.

‘How did I come to work for the white man? I should say that my
chi
planned that it should be so. I did not know anything about the white man at the time; I had not learnt his language or his custom. It will be three years next dry season. My age mates and I came from Umunneora to Okperi to learn a new dance as we had done for many years in the dry season after the harvest. To my great astonishment I found that my friend called Ekemezie in whose house I always lodged during these visits and who came and lodged with me whenever our village played host to his village, I found that he was no longer among the dancers of Okperi. I searched in vain for him among the crowd that came out to welcome us. Another friend called Ofodile took me to his house instead and it was from him I heard that Ekemezie had gone to work for the white man. I do not know how I felt when I heard that news. It was almost as if I had been told that my friend had died. I tried to find out more from Ofodile about this white man’s work but Ofodile is not the kind of person who can sit down and tell a story to the end. But the next day Ekemezie came to see me and brought me to this
Gorment Heel
. He called me by name and I answered. He said everything was good in its season; dancing in the season of dancing. But, he said, a man of sense does not go on hunting little bush rodents when his age mates are after big game. He told me to leave dancing and join in the race for the white man’s money. I was all eyes. Ekemezie called me Nwabueze and I said yes it was my name. He said the race for the white man’s money would not wait till tomorrow or till we were ready to join; if the rat could not run fast enough it must make way for the tortoise. He said other people from every small clan – some people we used to despise – they were all now in high favour when our own people did not even know that day had broken.’

The three men listened in silence. In his mind Akuebue was flicking his fingers and saying:
I now understand why Ezeulu has taken such a sudden liking for him. Their thoughts are brothers
. But Ezeulu was actually hearing Nwodika’s opinion of the white man for the first time and glowing with justification. Only he concealed his satisfaction, for once he had taken a stand on any matter he did not want to appear eager for others’ support; it was not his concern but theirs.

‘So my brothers,’ continued Nwodika’s son, ‘that was how your brother came to work for the white man. At first he put me to weed his compound, but after one year he called me and said that my handiwork was good and took me to work inside his house. He asked me my name and I told him my name was Nwabueze; but he could not call it so he said he would call me Johnu.’ This brought a smile to his face, but it was short-lived. ‘I know that some people at home have been spreading the story that I cook for the white man. Your brother does not see even the smoke from his fire; I just put things in order in his house. You know the white man is not like us; if he puts this plate here he will be angry if you have it there. So I go round every day and see that everything is in its right place. But I can tell you that I do not aim to die a servant. My eye is on starting a small trade in tobacco as soon as I have collected a little money. People from other places are gathering much wealth in this trade and in the trade for cloth. People from Elumelu, Aninta, Umuofia, Mbaino, they control the great new market. They decide what goes on in it. Is there one Umuaro man among the wealthy people here? Not one. Sometimes I feel shame when others ask me where I come from. We have no share in the market; we have no share in the white man’s office; we have no share anywhere. That was why I rejoiced when the white man called me the other day and told me that there was a wise man in my village and that his name was Ezeulu. I told him yes. He asked if he was still alive and I said yes. He said:
Go with the Head Messenger and tell him that I have a few questions I want to ask him about the custom of his people because I know he is a wise man
. I said to myself:
This is our chance to bring our clan in front of the white man
. I did not know that it would turn out like this.’ He bent his head forward and looked at the ground in sorrow.

‘It is not your fault,’ said Akuebue. ‘Things are always like that. Our eye sees something; we take a stone and aim at it. But the stone rarely succeeds like the eye in hitting the mark.’

‘I blame myself,’ said Nwodika’s son sadly.

‘You are a suspicious one,’ said Ezeulu. The others had gone to pass the night at the place of Nwodika’s son leaving Akuebue and Ezeulu in the small guardroom.

‘I stand for a man dying when his
chi
says so.’

‘But this man is not a poisoner although he comes from Umunneora.’

‘I don’t know,’ said Akuebue, shaking his head. ‘Every lizard lies on its belly, so we cannot tell which has a bellyache.’

‘No. But I tell you Nwodika’s son has a straight mind towards me. I can smell a poisoner as clearly as I can a leper.’

Akuebue still shook his head. Ezeulu could just make out the movement in the weak light of the palm-oil lamp.

‘Did you not watch him when you brought up the question of the blood-tie?’ Ezeulu continued. ‘If he had had an evil thought you would have seen it in the middle of his forehead. No, the man is not dangerous. Rather he acts like a man of olden times, when people liked themselves. Today there are too many wise people; and it is not good wisdom they have but the kind that blackens the nose.’

‘How does a man get any sleep with all these mosquitoes?’ asked Akuebue, waving his fly-whisk wildly around.

‘You have not seen them yet; wait till we have blown this lamp out. I was meaning to ask Nwodika’s son to get me a bunch of arigbe leaves to try and smoke them out. But your coming took everything off my mind. Last night they almost carved us up.’ He too waved his horse-tail. ‘Did you say your people were all well?’ he asked, trying to shift the conversation from himself.

‘They were all quiet,’ replied Akuebue, yawning with head thrown backwards.

‘What was Udenkwo’s story? You know you did not have the chance to tell me all of it.’

‘That is so,’ said Akuebue with revived interest. ‘If I told you I was happy with Udenkwo I would be deceiving myself. She is my daughter but I can tell you she takes entirely after her mother. I have told her many times that a woman who carries her head on a rigid neck as if she is carrying a pot of water will never live for long with any husband. I have not heard my in-law’s story but from what Udenkwo told me I can say that the cause of the quarrel was very small. My in-law was told to bring a cock for sacrifice. When he got home he pointed at one cock and told the children to catch it and tie it up for him. It turned out to be Udenkwo’s cock and she started a quarrel. This is what she told me. I asked her did she want her husband to go to the market for a cock when his wives kept fowls. She said:
Why should it always be my cock; what about the other wife, or did the spirits say they only ate Udenkwo’s chicken?
I said to her:
How many times has he taken your cock and how is a man to know which cock belongs to who?
She did not answer. All that she knew was that whenever my in-law wanted a cock for a sacrifice he remembered her.’

‘That was all?’

‘That was all.’

Ezeulu smiled. ‘One would think our in-law made a sacrifice every market.’

‘Exactly what I told her. But as I said Udenkwo is like her mother. Her real anger was that my in-law did not put his forehead on the ground to beg her.’

Ezeulu did not speak immediately. He seemed to be reconsidering the matter.

‘Every man has his own way of ruling his household,’ he said at last. ‘What I do myself if I need something like that is to call one of my wives and say to her:
I need such and such a thing for a sacrifice, go and get it for me
. I know I can take it but I ask her to go and bring it herself. I never forget what my father told his friend when I was a boy. He said:
In our custom a man is not expected to go down on his knees and knock his forehead on the ground to his wife to ask her forgiveness or beg a favour. But, a wise man knows that between him and his wife there may arise the need for him to say to her in secret: “I beg you.” When such a thing happens nobody else must know it, and that woman if she has any sense will never boast about it or even open her mouth and speak of it. If she does it the earth on which the man brought himself low will destroy her entirely
. That was what my father told his friend who held that a man was never wrong in his own house. I have never forgotten those words of my father’s. My wife’s cock belongs to me because the owner of a person is also owner of whatever that person has. But there are more ways than one of killing a dog.’