led him away. Enoch had killed an ancestral spirit, and Umuofia was thrown into
confusion.
That night the Mother of the Spirits walked the length and breadth of the clan,
weeping for her murdered son. It was a terrible night. Not even the oldest man in
Umuofia had ever heard such a strange and fearful sound, and it was never to be heard
again. It seemed as if the very soul of the tribe wept for a great evil that was coming-its own death.
On the next day all the masked egwugwu of Umuofia assembled in the
marketplace. They came from all the quarters of the clan and even from the
neighbouring villages. The dreaded Otakagu came from Imo, and Ekwensu, dangling a
white cock, arrived from Uli. It was a terrible gathering. The eerie voices of countless
spirits, the bells that clattered behind some of them, and the clash of machetes as they
ran forwards and backwards and saluted one another, sent tremors of fear into every
heart. For the first time in living memory the sacred bull-roarer was heard in broad
daylight.
From the marketplace the furious band made for Enoch's compound. Some of
the elders of the clan went with them, wearing heavy protections of charms and amulets.
These were men whose arms were strong in ogwu, or medicine. As for the ordinary men
and women, they listened from the safety of their huts.
The leaders of the Christians had met together at Mr. Smith's parsonage on the
previous night. As they deliberated they could hear the Mother of Spirits wailing for her
son. The chilling sound affected Mr. Smith, and for the first time he seemed to be afraid.
"What are they planning to do?" he asked. No one knew, because such a thing
had never happened before. Mr. Smith would have sent for the District Commissioner
and his court messengers, but they had gone on tour on the previous day.
"One thing is clear," said Mr. Smith. "We cannot offer physical resistance to
them. Our strength lies in the Lord." They knelt down together and prayed to God for
delivery.