On the following Sunday, Nwoye passed and re-passed the little red-earth and thatch building without summoning enough courage to enter. He heard the voice of singing and although it came from a handful of men it was loud and confident. Their church stood on a circular clearing that looked like the open mouth of the Evil Forest. Wa s it waiting to snap its teeth together? After passing and re-passing by the church, Nwoye returned home.
It was well known among the people of Mbanta that their gods and ancestors were sometimes long-suffering and would deliberately allow a man to go on defying them. But even in such cases they set their limit at seven market weeks or twenty-eight days. Beyond that limit no man was suffered to go. And so excitement mounted in the village as the seventh week approached since the impudent missionaries built their church in the Evil Forest. The villagers were so certain about the doom that awaited these men that one or two converts thought it wise to suspend their allegiance to the new faith.
At last the day came by which all the missionaries should have died. But they were still alive, building a new red-earth and thatch house for their teacher, Mr Kiaga. That week they won a handful more converts. And for the first time they had a woman. Her name was Nneka, the wife of Amadi, who was a prosperous farmer. She was very heavy with child.
Nneka had had four previous pregnancies and childbirths. But each time she had borne twins, and they had been immediately thrown away. Her husband and his family were already becoming highly critical of such a woman and were not unduly perturbed when they found she had fled to join the Christians. It was a good riddance.
One morning Okonkwo's cousin, Amikwu, was passing by the church on
his way from the neighbouring village, when he saw Nwoye among the Chris
tians. He was greatly surprised, and when he got home he went straight to
Okonkwo's hut and told him what he had seen. The women began to talk
excitedly, but Okonkwo sat unmoved.
It was late afternoon before Nwoye returned. He went into the obi and
saluted his father, but he did not answer. Nwoye turned round to walk into
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TH INGS FALL APART, PART 3 / 268 7
the inner compound when his father, suddenly overcome with fury, sprang to
his feet and gripped him by the neck.
'Where have you been?' he stammered.
Nwoye struggled to free himself from the choking grip.
'Answer me,' roared Okonkwo, 'before I kill you!' He seized a heavy stick
that lay on the dwarf wall and hit him two or three savage blows. 'Answer me!' he roared again. Nwoye stood looking at him and did not say a word. The women were screaming outside, afraid to go in. 'Leave that boy at once!' said a voice in the outer compound. It was Okonkwo's uncle, Uchendu. 'Are you mad?' Okonkwo did not answer. But he left hold of Nwoye, who walked away and never returned.
He went back to the church and told Mr Kiaga that he had decided to go to Umuofia, where the white missionary had set up a school to teach young Christians to read and write.
Mr Kiaga's joy was very great. 'Blessed is he who forsakes his father and his mother for my sake,' he intoned. 'Those that hear my words are my father and my mother.'
Nwoye did not fully understand. But he was happy to leave his father. He would return later to his mother and his brothers and sisters and convert them to the new faith.
As Okonkwo sat in his hut that night, gazing into a log fire, he thought over the matter. A sudden fury rose within him and he felt a strong desire to take up his matchet, go to the church and wipe out the entire vile and miscreant gang. But on further thought he told himself that Nwoye was not worth fighting for. Why , he cried in his heart, should he, Okonkwo, of all people, be cursed with such a son? He saw clearly in it the finger of his personal god or chi. For how else could he explain his great misfortune and exile and now his despicable son's behaviour? No w that he had time to think of it, his son's crime stood out in its stark enormity. To abandon the gods of one's father and go about with a lot of effeminate me n clucking like old hens was the very depth of abomination. Suppose when he died all his male children decided to follow Nwoye's steps and abandon their ancestors? Okonkwo felt a cold shudder run through him at the terrible prospect, like the prospect of annihilation. He saw himself and his fathers crowding round their ancestral shrine waiting in vain for worship and sacrifice and finding nothing but ashes of bygone days, and his children the while praying to the white man's god. If such a thing were ever to happen, he, Okonkwo, would wipe them off the face of the earth.
Okonkwo was popularly called the 'Roaring Flame.' As he looked into the
log fire he recalled the name. He was a flaming fire. Ho w then could he have
begotten a son like Nwoye, degenerate and effeminate? Perhaps he was not
his son. No! he could not be. His wife had played him false. He would teach
her! But Nwoye resembled his grandfather, Unoka, who was Okonkwo's
father. He pushed the thought out of his mind. He, Okonkwo, was called a
flaming fire. Ho w could he have begotten a woma n for a son? At Nwoye's age
Okonkwo had already become famous throughout Umuofia for his wrestling
and his fearlessness.
He sighed heavily, and as if in sympathy the smouldering log also sighed. An d immediately Okonkwo's eyes were opened and he saw the whole matter clearly. Living fire begets cold, impotent ash. He sighed again, deeply.
