land on which to farm during the coming planting season. With the help of his mother's kinsmen he built himself an obi and three huts for his wives. He then installed his personal god and the symbols of his departed fathers. Each of Uchendu's five sons contributed three hundred seed-yams to enable their cousin to plant a farm, for as soon as the first rain came farming would begin. At last the rain came. It was sudden and tremendous. For two or three moons the sun had been gathering strength till it seemed to breathe a breath of fire on the earth. All the grass had long been scorched brown, and the sands
1. Smalltown. 3. Murder, manslaughter. 2. The thought created by life.
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267 8 / CHINUA ACHEBE
felt like live coals to the feet. Evergreen trees wore a dusty coat of brown. Th e birds were silenced in the forests, and the world lay panting under the live, vibrating heat. And then came the clap of thunder. It was an angry, metallic and thirsty clap, unlike the deep and liquid rumbling of the rainy season. A mighty wind arose and filled the air with dust. Palm trees swayed as the wind combed their leaves into flying crests like strange and fantastic coiffure.
Whe n the rain finally came, it was in large, solid drops of frozen water which the people called 'the nuts of the water of heaven'. They were hard and painful on the body as they fell, yet young people ran about happily picking up the cold nuts and throwing them into their mouths to melt.
The earth quickly came to life and the birds in the forests fluttered around and chirped merrily. A vague scent of life and green vegetation was diffused in the air. As the rain began to fall more soberly and in smaller liquid drops, children sought for shelter, and all were happy, refreshed and thankful.
Okonkwo and his family worked very hard to plant a new farm. But it was like beginning life anew without the vigour and enthusiasm of youth, like learning to become left-handed in old age. Work no longer had for him the pleasure it used to have, and when there was no work to do he sat in a silent half-sleep.
His life had been ruled by a great passion?to become one of the lords of the clan. That had been his life- spring. And he had all but achieved it. Then everything had been broken. He had been cast out of his clan like a fish on to a dry, sandy beach, panting. Clearly his personal god or chi was not made for great things. A man could not rise beyond the destiny of his chi. Th e saying of the elders was not true?that if a man said yea his chi also affirmed. Here was a man whose chi said nay despite his own affirmation.
The old man, Uchendu, saw clearly that Okonkwo had yielded to despair
and he was greatly troubled. He would speak to him after the isa-ifi ceremony.'1
The youngest of Uchendu's five sons, Amikwu, was marrying a new wife. Th e bride-price had been paid and all but the last ceremony had been performed. Amikw u and his people had taken palm-wine to the bride's kinsmen about two moons before Okonkwo's arrival in Mbanta. An d so it was time for the final ceremony of confession.
Th e daughters of the family were all there, some of them having come a
long way from their homes in distant villages. Uchendu's eldest daughter had
come from Obodo, nearly half a day's journey away. The daughters of Uch
5
endu's brothers were also there. It was a full gathering of umuada, in the
same way as they would meet if a death occurred in the family. There were
twenty-two of them.
They sat in a big circle on the ground and the bride sat in the centre with
a hen in her right hand. Uchendu sat by her, holding the ancestral staff of the
family. All the other men stood outside the circle, watching. Their wives
watched also. It was evening and the sun was setting.
Uchendu's eldest daughter, Njide, asked the questions.
'Remember that if you do not answer truthfully you will suffer or even die
4. A ccremony to ascertain that a wife (here a married outside the clan, perform a special initiapromised bride) had been faithful to her husband tion upon returning home for important gather- during a separation. ings. 5. The daughters, who, according to Igbo custom,
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TH INGS FALL APART, PART 3 / 2679
at child-birth,' she began. 'How many men have lain with you since my brother first expressed the desire to marry you?'
'None,' she replied simply.
'Answer truthfully,' urged the other women.
'None?' asked Njide.
'None,' she answered.
'Swear on this staff of my fathers,' said Uchendu.
'I swear,' said the bride.
Uchendu took the hen from her, slit its throat with a sharp knife and allowed some of the blood to fall on his ancestral staff.
From that day Amikwu took the young bride to his hut and she became his wife. The daughters of the family
