"Who are the young men with you?" he asked as he sat down again on his
goatskin. Okonkwo told him.
"Ah," he said. "Welcome, my sons." He presented the kola nut to them, and
when they had seen it and thanked him, he broke it and they ate.
"Go into that room," he said to Okonkwo, pointing with his finger. "You will
find a pot of wine there."
Okonkwo brought the wine and they began to drink. It was a day old, and very
strong.
"Yes," said Uchendu after a long silence. "People travelled more in those days.
There is not a single clan in these parts that I do not know very well. Aninta, Umuazu,
Ikeocha, Elumelu, Abame--I know them all."
"Have you heard," asked Obierika, "that Abame is no more?"
"How is that?" asked Uchendu and Okonkwo together.
"Abame has been wiped out," said Obierika. "It is a strange and terrible story. If
I had not seen the few survivors with my own eyes and heard their story with my own
ears, I would not have believed. Was it not on an Eke day that they fled into Umuofia?"
he asked his two companions, and they nodded their heads.
"Three moons ago," said Obierika, "on an Eke market day a little band of
fugitives came into our town. Most of them were sons of our land whose mothers had
been buried with us. But there were some too who came because they had friends in our
town, and others who could think of nowhere else open to escape. And so they fled into
Umuofia with a woeful story." He drank his palm-wine, and Okonkwo filled his horn
again. He continued: "During the last planting season a white man had appeared in their
clan."
"An albino," suggested Okonkwo.