"The m^rket of Umuike is a wonderful place," said the young man Wno had been sent by Obierika to buy the giant goat "There are so many people on it that if you threw up a grain of sand '* wou'd not find a way to fall to earth again."
"It is thtf result of a great medicine," said Obierika. "The people of Uriluike wanted their market to grow and swallow up the markets °f their neighbors. So they made a powerful medicine Ev?rY market day, before the first cock-crow, this medicine statics on the market ground in the shape of an old woman with a fan– With this magic fan she beckons to the market all th^ neighboring clans. She beckons in front of her and behind her– to her right and to her left."
"And so everybody comes," said another man, "honest men and thi^ves– They can steal your cloth from off your waist in that fnarket."
"Yes " said Obierika. "I warned Nwankwo to keep a sharp eve and a shafP ear– There was once a man who went to sell a uoat He led i t on a thick rope which he tied round his wrist.
But as he walked through the market he realized that people were pointing at him as they do to a madman. He could not understand it until he looked back and saw that what he led at the end of the tether was not a goat but a heavy log of wood."
"Do you think a thief can do that kind of thing single-handed?" asked Nwankwo.
"No," said Obierika. "They use medicine."
When they had cut the goats' throats and collected the blood in a bowl, they held them over an open fire to burn off the hair, and the smell of burning hair blended with the smell of cooking. Then they washed them and cut them up for the women who prepared the soup.
All this anthill activity was going smoothly when a sudden interruption came. It was a cry in the distance: Oji odu aAu ijiji-o-o! (The one that uses its tail to drive flies away't't] Every woman immediately abandoned whatever she was doing and rushed out in the direction of the cry.
"We cannot all rush out like that, leaving what we are cooking to burn in the fire," shouted Chielo, the priestess. "Three or four of us should stay behind."
"It is true," said another woman. "We will allow three or four women to stay behind."
Five women stayed behind to look after the cooking-pots, and all the rest rushed away to see the cow that had been let loose. When they saw it they drove it back to its owner, who at once paid the heavy fine which the village imposed on anyone whose cow was let loose on his neighbors' crops. When the women had exacted the penalty they checked among themselves to see if any woman had failed to come out when the cry had been raised.
"Where is Mgbogo?" asked one of them.
"She is ill in bed," said Mgbogo's next-door neighbor. "She has iba ."
"The only other person is Udenkwo," said another woman, "and her child is not twenty-eight days yet."
Those women whom Obierika's wife had not asked to help her with the cooking returned to their homes, and the rest went back, in a body, to Obierika's compound.
"Whose cow was it?" asked the women who had been allowed to stay behind.
"It was my husband's," said Ezelagbo. "One of the young children had opened the gate of the cow-shed."
Early in the afternoon the first two pots of palm-wine arrived from Obierika's in-laws. They were duly presented to the women, who drank a cup or two each, to help them in their cooking. Some of it also went to the bride and her attendant maidens, who were putting the last delicate touches of razor to her coiffure and cam wood on her smooth skin.
When the heat of the sun began to soften, Obierika's son, Maduka, took a long broom and swept the ground in front of his father's obi . And as if they had been waiting for that, Obierika's relatives and friends began to arrive, every man with his goatskin bag hung on one shoulder and a rolled goatskin mat under his arm. Some of them were accompanied by their sons bearing carved wooden stools. Okonkwo was one of them. They sat in a half-circle and began to talk of many things. It would not be long before the suitors came.
Okonkwo brought out his snuff-bottle and offered it to Ogbuefi Ezenwa, who sat next to him. Ezenwa took it, tapped it on his kneecap, rubbed his left palm on his body to dry it before tipping a little snuff into it. His actions were deliberate, and he spoke as he performed them:
"1 hope our in-laws will bring many pots of wine. Although they come from a village that is known for bei
ng closefisted, they ought to know that Akueke is the bride for a king."
"They dare not bring fewer than thirty pots," said Okonkwo. "I shall tell them my mind if they do."
At that moment Obierika's son, Maduka, led out the giant goat from the inner compound, for his father's relatives to see. They all admired it and said that that was the way things should be done. The goat was then led back to the inner compound.
Very soon after, the in-laws began to arrive. Young men and boys in single file, each carrying a pot of wine, came first. Obierika's relatives counted the pots as they came. Twenty, twenty-five. There was a long break, and the hosts looked at each other as if to say, "1 told you." Then more pots came. Thirty, thirty-five, forty, forty-five. The hosts nodded in approval and seemed to say, "Now they are behaving like men." Altogether there were fifty pots of wine. After the pot-bearers came Ibe, the suitor, and the elders of his family. They sat in a half-moon, thus completing a circle with their hosts. The pots of wine stood in their midst. Then the bride, her mother and half a dozen other women and girls emerged from the inner compound, and went round the circle shaking hands with all. The bride's mother led the way, followed by the bride and the other women. The married women wore their best cloths and the girls wore red and black waist-beads and anklets of brass.
When the women retired, Obierika presented kola nuts to his in-laws. His eldest brother broke the first one. "Life to all of us," he said as he broke it. "And let there be friendship between your family and ours."
The crowd answered-. "Ee-e-el"
"We are giving you our daughter today. She will be a good wife to you. She will bear you nine sons like the mother of our town."
"Ee-e-et"