Things Fall Apart - Chinua Achebe [37]
As soon as day broke, breakfast was hastily eaten and women and children began to gather at Obierika’s compound to help the bride’s mother in her difficult but happy task of cooking for a whole village.
Okonkwo’s family was astir like any other family in the neighborhood. Nwoye’s mother and Okonkwo’s youngest wife were ready to set out for Obierika’s compound with all their children. Nwoye’s mother carried a basket of coco-yams, a cake of salt and smoked fish which she would present to Obierika’s wife. Okonkwo’s youngest wife, Ojiugo, also had a basket of plantains and coco-yams and a small pot of palm-oil. Their children carried pots of water.
Ekwefi was tired and sleepy from the exhausting experiences of the previous night. It was not very long since they had returned. The priestess, with Ezinma sleeping on her back, had crawled out of the shrine on her belly like a snake. She had not as much as looked at Okonkwo and Ekwefi or shown any surprise at finding them at the mouth of the cave. She looked straight ahead of her and walked back to the village. Okonkwo and his wife followed at a respectful distance. They thought the priestess might be going to her house, but she went to Okonkwo’s compound, passed through his obi and into Ekwefi’s hut and walked into her bedroom. She placed Ezinma carefully on the bed and went away without saying a word to anybody.
Ezinma was still sleeping when everyone else was astir, and Ekwefi asked Nwoye’s mother and Ojiugo to explain to Obierika’s wife that she would be late. She had got ready her basket of coco-yams and fish, but she must wait for Ezinma to wake.
“You need some sleep yourself,” said Nwoye’s mother. “You look very tired.”
As they spoke Ezinma emerged from the hut, rubbing her eyes and stretching her spare frame. She saw the other children with their waterpots and remembered that they were going to fetch water for Obierika’s wife. She went back to the hut and brought her pot.
“Have you slept enough?” asked her mother.
“Yes,” she replied. “Let us go.”
“Not before you have had your breakfast,” said Ekwefi. And she went into her hut to warm the vegetable soup she had cooked last night.
“We shall be going,” said Nwoye’s mother. “I will tell Obierika’s wife that you are coming later.” And so they all went to help Obierika’s wife—Nwoye’s mother with her four children and Ojiugo with her two.
As they trooped through Okonkwo’s obi he asked: “Who will prepare my afternoon meal?”
“I shall return to do it,” said Ojiugo.
Okonkwo was also feeling tired, and sleepy, for although nobody else knew it, he had not slept at all last night. He had felt very anxious but did not show it. When Ekwefi had followed the priestess, he had allowed what he regarded as a reasonable and manly interval to pass and then gone with his machete to the shrine, where he thought they must be. It was only when he had got there that it had occurred to him that the priestess might have chosen to go round the villages first. Okonkwo had returned home and sat waiting. When he thought he had waited long enough he again returned to the shrine. But the Hills and the Caves were as silent as death. It was only on his fourth trip that he had found Ekwefi, and by then he had become gravely worried.
Obierika’s compound was as busy as an anthill. Temporary cooking tripods were erected on every available space by bringing together three blocks of sun-dried earth and making a fire in their midst. Cooking pots went up and down the tripods, and foo-foo was pounded in a hundred wooden mortars. Some of the women cooked the yams and the cassava, and others prepared vegetable soup. Young men pounded the foo-foo or split firewood. The children made endless trips to the stream.
Three young men helped Obierika to slaughter the two goats with which the soup was made. They were very fat goats, but the fattest of all was tethered to a peg near the wall of the compound. It was as big as a small cow. Obierika had sent one of his relatives all the way to Umuike to buy that goat. It was the one he would