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‘Who gives him food?’ asked Ugoye.
‘You remember the son of Nwodika who brought the white man’s first messenger here,’ Obika replied, though not to Ugoye but the men. ‘It turned out that his wife is the daughter of Ezeulu’s old friend in Umuagu. She has been cooking for us since yesterday and she says that as long as she is alive Ezeulu will not send home for another woman.’
‘Did I hear you well?’ asked Akuebue, who had so far said very little. ‘Did you say that the wife of a man of Umunneora is giving food to Ezeulu?’
‘Yes.’
‘Please do not tell me such a story again. Edogo, get ready now, we are going to Okperi.’
‘Ezeulu is not a small child,’ said Anosi, their neighbour. ‘He cannot be taught those with whom he may eat.’
‘Do you hear what I say, Edogo? Get ready now; I am going home to get my things.’
‘I do not want to stop you from going,’ said Obika, ‘but do not talk as if you alone have sense. Ezeulu and I did not simply open our mouths while our eyes were shut. Last night Ezeulu refused food even though Nwodika’s son tasted it fo
r us. But by this morning Ezeulu had seen enough of the man’s mind to know that he had no ill-will.’
Akuebue was not impressed by anything the others said. He knew enough about the men of Umunneora. As for those who said that Ezeulu was not a child they could not know the bitterness in his mind. Akuebue knew the man better than his children or his wives. He knew that it was not beyond him to die abroad so as to plague his enemies at home. It was possible that the hands of Nwodika’s son were clean, but one must make quite sure even at the risk of offending him. Who would swallow phlegm for fear of offending others? How much less swallow poison?
Ezeulu’s neighbour, Anosi, whose opinion had gone unheeded earlier on in the discussion and who had kept quiet since then surfaced again with an opposite view.
‘I think that Akuebue is right in what he says. Let him go with Edogo to satisfy himself that all is well. But let Ugoye also go with them, taking yams and other things; in that way the visit will not offend anyone.’
‘But what is this fear of causing offence?’ asked Akuebue impatiently. ‘I am not a small boy; I know how to cut without drawing blood. But I shall not be afraid to offend a man of Umunneora if Ezeulu’s life hangs on it.’
‘True,’ agreed Anosi. ‘Very true. My father used to say that it is the fear of causing offence that makes men swallow poison. You enter the house of a bad man and he brings out a kolanut. You do not like the way he has brought it out and your mind tells you not to eat it. But you are afraid to offend your host and you swallow ukwalanta. I agree with Akuebue.’
*
Perhaps no one felt Ezeulu’s absence as keenly as Nwafo. And now his mother was going too. But this second blow was greatly softened by the thought that Edogo was going as well.
Ezeulu’s absence had given Edogo an opportunity to show his resentment against the old man’s favourite. As the first son Edogo had taken temporary possession of his father’s hut to await his return. Nwafo who rarely left the hut now began to feel his half-brother’s hostility pushing him out. Although he was only a little boy he had the mind of an adult; he could tell when someone looked at him with a good eye or with a bad. Even if Edogo had said nothing Nwafo would still have known that he was not wanted. But Edogo had told him yesterday to go to his mother’s hut and not sit around the obi gazing into the eyes of people older than himself. Nwafo went out and cried; for the first time in his life he had been told that he was not welcome in his father’s hut.
Throughout today he had kept away until Obika’s return when everyone in the compound and even neighbours had come in to hear the news. He took his accustomed position defiantly; but Edogo said nothing to him – he did not even appear to have noticed him.
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.
