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‘I shall whip him later. Go and tell him I shall whip him.’
‘Otikpo, let us go outside and whisper together,’ said Uduezue.
They did not stay very long. When they came back Otikpo brought a kolanut in a wooden bowl. Akukalia thanked him but said that he and his companions carried such heavy loads on their heads that they could neither eat nor drink until the burden was set down.
‘True?’ asked Otikpo. ‘Can this burden you speak of come down before me and Uduezue, or does it require the elders of Okperi?’
‘It requires the elders.’
‘Then you have come at a bad time. Everybody in Igboland knows that Okperi people do not have other business on their Eke day. You should have come yesterday or the day before, or tomorrow or the day after. Son of our Daughter, you should know our habits.’
‘Your habits are not different from the habits of other people,’ said Akukalia. ‘But our mission could not wait.’
‘True?’ Otikpo went outside and raising his voice called his neighbour, Ebo, and came in again.
‘The mission could not wait. What shall we do now? I think you should sleep in Okperi today and see the elders tomorrow.’
Ebo came in and saluted generally. He was surprised to see so many people, and was temporarily at a loss. Then he began to shake hands all round, but when Akukalia’s turn came he refused to take Ebo’s hand.
‘Sit down, Ebo,’ said Otikpo. ‘Akukalia has a message for Okperi which forbids him to eat kolanut or shake hands. He wants to see the elders and I have told him it is not possible today.’
‘Why did they choose today to bring their message? Have they no market where they come from? If that is all you are calling me for I must go back and prepare for market.’
‘Our message cannot wait, I have said that before.’
‘I have not yet heard of a message that could not wait. Or have you brought us news that Chukwu, the high god, is about to remove the foot that holds the world? If not then you must know that Eke Okperi does not break up because three men have come to town. If you listen carefully even now you can hear its voice; and it is not even half full yet. When it is full you can hear it from Umuda. Do you think a market like that will stop to hear your message?’ He sat down for a while; nobody else spoke.
‘You can now see, Son of our Daughter, that we cannot get our elders together before tomorrow,’ said Otikpo.
‘If war came suddenly to your town how do you call your men together, Father of my Mother? Do you wait till tomorrow? Do you not beat your ikolo?’
Ebo and Otikpo burst into laughter. The three men from Umuaro exchanged glances. Akukalia’s face began to look dangerous. Uduezue sat as he had done since they first came in, his chin in his left hand.
‘Different people have different customs,’ said Otikpo after his laugh. ‘In Okperi it is not our custom to welcome strangers to our market with the ikolo.’
‘Are you telling us, Father of my Mother, that you regard us as market women? I have borne your insults patiently. Let me remind you that my name is Okeke Akukalia of Umuaro.’
‘Ooh, of Umuaro,’ said Ebo, still smarting from the rebuffed handshake. ‘I am happy you have said of Umuaro. The name of this town is Okperi.’
‘Go back to your house,’ shouted Akukalia, ‘or I will make you eat shit.’
‘If you want to shout like a castrated bull you must wait until you return to Umuaro. I have told you this place is called Okperi.’
Perhaps it was deliberate, perhaps accidental. But Ebo had just said the one thing that nobody should ever have told Akukalia who was impotent and whose two wives were secretly given to other men to bear his children.
The ensuing fight was grim. Ebo was no match for Akukalia and soon had a broken head, streaming with blood. Maddened by pain and shame he
made for his house to get a matchet. Women and children from all the near-by compounds were now out, some of them screaming with fright. Passers-by also rushed in, making futile motions of intervention.
What happened next was the work of Ekwensu, the bringer of evil. Akukalia rushed after Ebo, went into the obi, took the ikenga from his shrine, rushed outside again and, while everyone stood aghast, split it in two.
Ebo was last to see the abomination. He had been struggling with Otikpo who wanted to take the matchet from him and so prevent bloodshed. But when the crowd saw what Akukalia had done they called on Otikpo to leave the man alone. The two men came out of the hut together. Ebo rushed towards Akukalia and then seeing what he had done stopped dead. He did not know, for one brief moment, whether he was awake or dreaming. He rubbed his eyes with the back of his left hand. Akukalia stood in front of him. The two pieces of his ikenga lay where their violator had kicked them in the dust.
‘Move another step if you call yourself a man. Yes I did it. What can you do?’
So it was true. Still Ebo turned round and went into his obi. At his shrine he knelt down to have a close look. Yes, the gap where his ikenga, the strength of his right arm, had stood stared back at him – an empty patch, without dust, on the wooden board. ‘Nna doh! Nna doh!’ he wept, calling on his dead father to come to his aid. Then he got up and went into his sleeping-room. He was there a little while before Otikpo, thinking he might be doing violence to himself, rushed into the room to see. But it was too late. Ebo pushed him aside and came into the obi with his loaded gun. At the threshold he knelt down and aimed. Akukalia, seeing the danger, dashed forward. Although the bullet had caught him in the chest he continued running with his matchet held high until he fell at the threshold, his face hitting the low thatch before he went down.
When the body was brought home to Umuaro everyone was stunned. It had never happened before that an emissary of Umuaro was killed abroad. But after the first shock people began to say that their clansman had done an unforgivable thing.
