Mr Wright’s irritation mounted dangerously. He clutched the whip in his right hand more firmly and planted the other hand menacingly on his hip. His white helmet made him look even more squat than he was. Moses Unachukwu was talking excitedly to him, but he did not seem to be listening. He stared unwaveringly at the two approaching late-comers and his eyes seemed to Moses to get smaller and smaller. The others wondered what was going to happen. Although the white man always carried a whip he had rarely used it; and when he had done he had appeared to be half joking. But this morning he must have got out of bed from the left side. His face smoked with anger.
Noticing the man’s posture Obika put more swagger into his walk. This brought more laughter from the men. He made to pass Mr Wright who, unable to control his anger any more, lashed out violently with his whip. It flashed again and this time caught Obika around the ear, and stung him into fury. He dropped his matchet and hoe and charged. But Moses Unachukwu had thrown himself between the two men. At the same time Mr Wright’s two assistants jumped in quickly and held Obika while he gave him half a dozen more lashes on his bare back. He did not struggle at all; he only shivered like the sacrificial ram which must take in silence the blows of funeral dancers before its throat is cut. Ofoedu trembled also, but for once in his life he saw a fight pass before him and could do nothing but look on.
‘Are you mad to attack a white man?’ screamed Moses Unachukwu in sheer amazement. ‘I have heard that not one person in your father’s house has a right head.’
‘What do you have in mind when you say that?’ asked a man from Obika’s village who had smelt in Unachukwu’s statement the hostility between Umuachala and Umunneora.
The crowd which had hitherto watched in silence now broke hurriedly into the quarrel and before long loud threats were uttered on all sides and at least one person wagged his finger in another’s face. It seemed so much easier to deal with an old quarrel than with a new, unprecedented incident.
‘Shut up you black monkeys and get down to work!’ Mr Wright had a grating voice but one that carried far. Truce was immediately established. He turned to Unachukwu and said: ‘Tell them I shall not tolerate any more slackness.’
Unachukwu translated.
‘Tell them this bloody work must be finished by June.’
‘The white man says that unless you finish this work in time you will know the kind of man he is.’
‘No more lateness.’
‘Pardin?’
‘Pardon what? Can’t you understand plain, simple English? I said there will be no more late-coming.’
‘Oho. He says everybody must work hard and stop all this shit-eating.’
‘I have one question I want the white man to answer.’ This was Nweke Ukpaka.
‘What’s that?’
Unachukwu hesitated and scratched his head. ‘Dat man wan axe master queshon.’
‘No questions.’
‘Yessah.’ He turned to Nweke. ‘The white man says he did not leave his house this morning to come and answer your questions.’
The crowd grumbled. Wright shouted that if they did not immediately set to work they would be seriously dealt with. There was no need to translate this; it was quite clear.
The matchets began to sound again on tree-trunks and those who worked with hoes bent down once more. But as they worked they arranged a meeting.
Nothing came of it. The first disagreement was over the presence of Moses Unachukwu. Many people – largely from Umuachala village – saw no reason why a man of another age group should sit in on their deliberations. Others pointed out that this was a special meeting to discuss the white man and for that reason it would be foolish to exclude the only kinsman who knew the ways of these white people. At this point Ofoedu stood up and, to everyone’s surprise, joined those who wanted Moses to stay.
‘But my reason is different,’ he added. ‘I want him to say before us all what he said before the white man about Obika’s family. I want him also to say before us all whether it is true that he incited the white man to whip our comrade. When he has given us these answers he may go away. You ask me why he should go away? I shall tell you. This is a meeting of Otakagu age group. He belongs to Akakanma. And let me remind you all, but especially those who are murmuring and interrupting me, that he also belongs to the white man’s religion. But I do not want to talk about that now. All I say is that Unachukwu should answer the questions I have asked, and after that he may go and take with him all his knowledge of the white man’s ways. We have all heard stories of how he came by this knowledge. We have heard that when he left Umuaro he went to cook like a woman in the white man’s kitchen and lick his plates…’
The rest of Ofoedu’s speech was drowned in the tumult that broke out. It was just like Ofoedu, many people were saying, to open his mouth and let out his words alive without giving them as much as a bite with his teeth. Others said he had spoken the truth. Anyhow, it took a very long time to e
stablish peace again. Moses Unachukwu was saying something but no one heard, until the tumult had spent itself. By then his voice had gone hoarse.
‘If you ask me to go away I shall do so at once.’
‘Do not go!’
‘We permit you to stay!’
‘But if I go away it will not be due to the barking of that mad dog. If there were any shame left in the world how could that beast of the bush who could not give his father a second burial stand up before you and pass shit through his mouth…’
‘It is enough!’
‘We have not come here to abuse ourselves!’