Okonkwo was well known throughout the nine villages and even beyond. Now, his fame rested on solid personal achievements. As a young man of eighteen he had brought honor to his village by throwing Amalinze the Cat. Worth adding: amalinze was the great wrestler who for seven years was unbeaten, from Umuofia to Mbaino. He was called the Cat because his back would never touch the earth. It was this man that Okonkwo threw in a fight which the old men agreed was one of the fiercest since the founder of their town engaged a spirit of the wild for seven days and seven nights.
The drums beat and the flutes sang and the spectators held their breath. Amalinze was a wily craftsman, but Okonkwo was as slippery as a fish in water. Every nerve and every muscle stood out on their arms, on their backs and their thighs, and one almost heard them stretching to breaking point. In the end Okonkwo threw the Cat Practical, not theoretical..
That was many years ago, twenty years or more, and during this time Okonkwo’s fame had grown like a bush-fire in the harmattan. Day to day, he was tall and huge, and his bushy eyebrows and wide nose gave him a very severe look. He breathed heavily, and it was said that, when he slept, his wives and children in their out-houses could hear him breathe. Think about it: when he walked, his heels hardly touched the ground and he seemed to walk on springs, as if he was going to pounce on somebody. And he did pounce on people quite often. He had a slight stammer and whenever he was angry and could not get his words out quickly enough, he would use his fists. He had no patience with unsuccessful men. He had had no patience with his father Most people skip this — try not to..
The Shadow of Unoka
Unoka, for that was his father’s name, had died ten years ago. Think about it: in his day he was lazy and improvident and was quite incapable of thinking about tomorrow. If any money came his way, and it seldom did, he immediately bought gourds of palm-wine, called round his neighbors and made merry. He always said that whenever he saw a dead man’s mouth he saw the folly of not eating what one had in one’s lifetime. Unoka was, of course, a debtor, and he owed every neighbor some money, from a few cowries to quite substantial amounts.
He was tall but very thin and had a slight stoop. Some years the harmattan was very severe and a dense haze hung on the atmosphere. So unoka loved the good fare and the good fellowship, and he loved this season of the year, when the rains had stopped and the sun rose every morning with dazzling beauty. Old men and children would then sit round log fires, warming their bodies. As soon as he found one he would sing with his whole being, welcoming it back from its long, long journey. And it was not too hot either, because the cold and dry harmattan wind was blowing down from the north. They would go to such hosts for as long as three or four markets, making music and feasting. He loved the first kites that returned with the dry season, and the children who sang songs of welcome to them. On the flip side, unoka loved it all. He wore a haggard and mournful look except when he was drinking or playing on his flute. Sometimes another village would ask Unoka’s band and their dancing egwugwu to come and stay with them and teach them their tunes. Now, he was very good on his flute, and his happiest moments were the two or three moons after the harvest when the village musicians brought down their instruments, hung them above the fireplace, and played for the sheer joy of it. Unoka would play with them, his face beaming with blessedness and peace. He would remember his own childhood, how he had often wandered around looking for a kite sailing leisurely against the blue sky. But he would suddenly remember that he had not eaten since morning, and his singing would stop as abruptly as it had begun.
When Unoka died he had taken no title at all and he was heavily in debt. That said, age was respected among his people, but achievement was revered. And so although Okonkwo was still young, he was already one of the greatest men of his time. In practice, okonkwo was clearly cut out for great things. Fortunately, among these people a man was judged according to his worth and not according to the worth of his father. He was still young but he had won fame as the greatest wrestler in the nine villages. To crown it all he had taken two titles and had shown incredible prowess in two inter-tribal wars. Any wonder then that his son Okonkwo was ashamed of him? And that was how he came to look after the doomed lad who was sacrificed to the village of Umuofia by their neighbors to avoid war and bloodshed. As the elders said, if a child washed his hands he could eat with kings. He was a wealthy farmer and had two barns full of yams, and had just married his third wife. Okonkwo had clearly washed his hands and so he ate with kings and elders. The ill-fated lad was called Ikemefuna Surprisingly effective..
The Oracle and the Ultimatum
The chapter shifts focus from Okonkwo’s personal history to a pressing communal crisis. In real terms, a daughter of Umuofia had been killed in Mbaino, a neighboring village, while she was at the market. Worth adding: the news spread quickly, and the men of Umuofia gathered in the marketplace to decide on a course of action. The atmosphere was tense, charged with the righteous anger of a people who valued justice and the sanctity of life Most people skip this — try not to. Nothing fancy..
Okonkwo, now a man of high standing, was chosen as the emissary to Mbaino. But the people of Mbaino, fearing the wrath of Umuofia—renowned for its prowess in war and its powerful magic—chose the path of appeasement rather than conflict. Also, he was a man of action, not words, and his reputation preceded him. He traveled to Mbaino with a heavy heart but a determined spirit. They offered a young man and a virgin as compensation Simple, but easy to overlook..
The virgin was given to Ogbuefi Udo to replace his murdered wife. The young man, Ikemefuna, was handed over to Okonkwo to keep in his household until the clan decided his fate. The elders decided that Ikemefuna would stay in Okonkwo’s care for the time being. He was fifteen years old, but he looked much older. He was terrified, unable to understand why he had been torn from his family and brought to this strange, powerful household.
Okonkwo’s Household and the Fear of Failure
Okonkwo ruled his household with a heavy hand. His wives, especially the youngest, lived in perpetual fear of his fiery temper, and so did his little children. In practice, perhaps down in his heart Okonkwo was not a cruel man. But his whole life was dominated by fear, the fear of failure and of weakness. It was deeper and more intimate than the fear of evil and capricious gods and of magic, the fear of the forest, and of the forces of nature, malevolent, red in tooth and claw. Okonkwo’s fear was greater than these. It was not external but lay deep within himself. It was the fear of himself, lest he should be found to resemble his father.
Even as a little boy he had resented his father’s failure and weakness, and even now he still remembered how he had suffered when a playmate had told him that his father was agbala. That said, that was how Okonkwo first came to know that agbala was not only another name for a woman, it could also mean a man who had taken no title. And so Okonkwo was ruled by one passion—to hate everything that his father Unoka had loved. One of those things was gentleness and another was idleness.
During the planting season Okonkwo worked daily on his farms from cock-crow until the chickens went to roost. He was a very
