'O Lord save Th y people,' cried Mr Smith.
'And bless Thine inheritance,' replied the men.
They decided that Enoch should be hidden in the parsonage for a day or
two. Enoch himself was greatly disappointed when he heard this, for he had
hoped that a holy war was imminent; and there were a few other Christians
who thought like him. But wisdom prevailed in the camp of the faithful and
many lives were thus saved.
The band of egwugwu moved like a furious whirlwind to Enoch's compound
and with matchet and fire reduced it to a desolate heap. An d from there they
made for the church, intoxicated with destruction.
Mr Smith was in his church when he heard the masked spirits coming. He
walked quietly to the door which commanded the approach to the church
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compound, and stood there. But when the first three or four egwugwu appeared on the church compound he nearly bolted. He overcame this impulse and instead of running away he went down the two steps that led up to the church and walked towards the approaching spirits.
They surged forward, and a long stretch of the bamboo fence with which the church compound was surrounded gave way before them. Discordant bells clanged, matchets clashed and the air was full of dust and weird sounds. Mr Smith heard a sound of footsteps behind him. He turned round and saw Okeke, his interpreter. Okeke had not been on the best of terms with his master since he had strongly condemned Enoch's behaviour at the meeting of the leaders of the church during the night. Okeke had gone as far as to say that Enoch should not be hidden in the parsonage, because he would only draw the wrath of the clan on the pastor. Mr Smith had rebuked him in very strong language, and had not sought his advice that morning. But now, as he came up and stood by him confronting the angry spirits, Mr Smith looked at him and smiled. It was a wan smile, but there was deep gratitude there.
For a brief moment the onrush of the egwugwu was checked by the unexpected composure of the two men. But it was only a momentary check, like the tense silence between blasts of thunder. Th e second onrush was greater than the first. It swallowed up the two men. The n an unmistakable voice rose above the tumult and there was immediate silence. Space was made around the two men, and Ajofia began to speak.
Ajofia was the leading egwugwu of Umuofia. H e was the head and spokesman of the nine ancestors who administered justice in the clan. His voice was unmistakable and so he was able to bring immediate peace to the agitated spirits. He then addressed Mr Smith, and as he spoke clouds of smoke rose from his head.
'The body of the white man, I salute you,' he said, using the language in which immortals spoke to men.
'The body of the white man, do you know me?' he asked.
Mr Smith looked at his interpreter, but Okeke, who was a native of distant Umuru, was also at a loss.
Ajofia laughed in his guttural voice. It was like the laugh of rusty metal. 'They are strangers,' he said, 'and they are ignorant. But let that pass.' He turned round to his comrades and saluted them, calling them the fathers of Umuofia. He dug his rattling spear into the ground and it shook with metallic life. The n he turned once more to the missionary and his interpreter.
'Tell the white ma n that we will not do hi m any harm,' he said to the interpreter. 'Tell him to go back to his house and leave us alone. We liked his brother who was with us before. He was foolish, but we liked him, and for his sake we shall not harm his brother. But this shrine which he built must be destroyed. We shall no longer allow it in our midst. It has bred untold abominations and we have come to put an end to it.' He turned to his comrades. 'Fathers of Umuofia, I salute you;' and they replied with one guttural voice. He turned again to the missionary. 'You can stay with us if you like our ways. You can worship your own god. It is good that a man should worship the gods and the spirits of his fathers. Go back to your house so that you may not be hurt. Ou r anger is great but we have held it down so that we can talk to you.'
Mr Smith said to his interpreter: 'Tell them to go away from here. This is the house of God and I will not live to see it desecrated.' Okeke interpreted wisely to the spirits and leaders of Umuofia: 'The white
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man says he is happy you have come to him with your grievances, like friends. He will be happy if you leave the matter in his hands.'
'We cannot leave the matter in his hands because he does not understand our customs, just as we do not understand his. We say he is foolish because he does not know our ways, and perhaps he says we are foolish because we do not know his. Let him go away.'
Mr Smith stood his ground. But he could not save his church. When the egwugwu went away the red-earth church which Mr Brown had built was a pile of earth and ashes. And for the moment the spirit of the clan was pacified.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
For the first time in many years Okonkwo had a feeling that was akin to happiness. Th e times which had altered so unaccountably during his exile seemed to be coming round again. The clan which had turned false on him appeared to be making amends.
He had spoken violently to his clansmen when they had met in the marketplace to decide on their action. And they had listened to him with respect. It was like the good old days again, when a warrior was a warrior. Although they had not agreed to kill the missionary or drive away the Christians, they had agreed to do something substantial. And they had done it. Okonkwo was almost happy again.
