'I think it is good that our clan holds the ozo title in high esteem,' said Okonkwo. 'In those other clans you speak of, 020 is so low that every beggar takes it.'
'I was only speaking in jest,' said Obierika. 'In Abam e and Aninta the title is worth less than two cowries. Every man wears the thread of title on his ankle, and does not lose it even if he steals.'
'They have indeed soiled the name of 020,' said Okonkwo as he rose to go.
'It will not be very long now before my in-laws come,' said Obierika.
'I shall return very soon,' said Okonkwo, looking at the position of the sun.
There were seven men in Obierika's hut when Okonkwo returned. The
suitor was a young man of about twenty-five, and with him were his father
and uncle. On Obierika's side were his two elder brothers and Maduka, his
sixteen-year-old son.
'Ask Akueke's mother to send us some kola nuts,' said Obierika to his son. Maduka vanished into the compound like lightning. The conversation at once centred on him, and everybody agreed that he was as sharp as a razor.
'I sometimes think he is too sharp,' said Obierika, somewhat indulgently.
'He hardly ever walks. He is always in a hurry. If you are sending him on an
errand he flies away before he has heard half of the message.'
'You were very muc h like that yourself,' said his eldest brother. 'As our
people say, 'When mother-cow is chewing grass its young ones watch its
mouth.' Maduk a has been watching your mouth.'
As he was speaking the boy returned, followed by Akueke,' his half-sister,
carrying a wooden dish with three kola nuts and alligator pepper. She gave
the dish to her father's eldest brother and then shook hands, very shyly, with
her suitor and his relatives. She was about sixteen and just ripe for marriage.
Her suitor and his relatives surveyed her young body with expert eyes as if to
assure themselves that she was beautiful and ripe.
She wore a coiffure which was done up into a crest in the middle of the
head. Ca m wood was rubbed lightly into her skin, and all over her body were
black patterns drawn with uli.6 She wore a black necklace which hung down
in three coils just above her full, succulent breasts. On her arms were red and
yellow bangles, and on her waist four or five rows ofjigida, or waist-beads.
When she had shaken hands, or rather held out her hand to be shaken, she
returned to her mother's hut to help with the cooking.
'Remove your jigida first,' her mother warned as she moved near the fire
5. Wealth of Eke (a divinity). Similar names built caused the skin to pucker temporarily, [t was used on ako ('wealth') connote riches and are associ-to create black tattoolike decorations. 'Cam ated with the idea of women as a form of exchange-wood': a shrub. The powdered red heartwood of able material wealth. the shrub was used as a cosmetic dye. 6. A liquid made from crushed seeds, which
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265 4 / CHINUA ACHEBE
place to bring the pestle resting against the wall. 'Every day I tell you that jigida and fire are not friends. But you will never hear. You grew your ears for decoration, not for hearing. One of these days your jigida will catch fire on your waist, and then you will know.'
Akueke moved to the other end of the hut and began to remove the waist- beads. It had to be done slowly and carefully, taking each string separately, else it would break and the thousand tiny rings would have to be strung together again. She rubbed each string downwards with her palms until it passed the buttocks and slipped down to the floor around her feet.
The men in the obi had already begun to drink the palm-wine which Akueke's suitor had brought. It was a very good wine and powerful, for in spite of the palm fruit hung across the mouth of the pot to restrain the lively liquor, white foam rose and spilled over.
'That wine is the work of a good tapper,' said Okonkwo.
The young suitor, whose name was Ibe, smiled broadly and said to his father: 'Do you hear that?' He then said to the others: 'He will never admit that I am a good tapper.'
'He tapped three of my best palm trees to death,' said his father, Ukegbu.
'That was about five years ago,' said Ibe, who had begun to pour out the wine, 'before I learnt how to tap.' He filled the first horn and gave to his father. Then he poured out for the others. Okonkwo brought out his big horn from the goatskin bag, blew into it to remove any dust that might be there, and gave it to Ibe to fill.
As the men drank, they talked about everything except the thing for which they had gathered. It was only
