At last the day came by which all the missionaries should have died. But they
were still alive, building a new red-earth and thatch house for their teacher, Mr. Kiaga.
That week they won a handful more converts. And for the first time they had a woman.
Her name was Nneka, the wife of Amadi, who was a prosperous farmer. She was very
heavy with child.
Nneka had had four previous pregnancies and child-births. But each time she
had borne twins, and they had been immediately thrown away. Her husband and his
family were already becoming highly critical of such a woman and were not unduly
perturbed when they found she had fled to join the Christians. It was a good riddance.
One morning Okonkwo's cousin, Amikwu, was passing by the church on his
way from the neighbouring village, when he saw Nwoye among the Christians. He was
greatly surprised, and when he got home he went straight to Okonkwo's hut and told
him what he had seen. The women began to talk excitedly, but Okonkwo sat unmoved.
It was late afternoon before Nwoye returned. He went into the obi and saluted
his father, but he did not answer. Nwoye turned round to walk into the inner compound
when his father, suddenly overcome with fury, sprang to his feet and gripped him by the
neck.
"Where have you been?" he stammered.
Nwoye struggled to free himself from the choking grip.
"Answer me," roared Okonkwo, "before I kill you!" He seized a heavy stick that
lay on the dwarf wall and hit him two or three savage blows.
"Answer me!" he roared again. Nwoye stood looking at him and did not say a
word. The women were screaming outside, afraid to go in.
"Leave that boy at once!" said a voice in the outer compound. It was Okonkwo's
uncle, Uchendu. "Are you mad?"