on the roofs and covered the bare ground. Mighty tree branches broke away under them,
and the whole country became the brown-earth colour of the vast, hungry swarm.
Many people went out with baskets trying to catch them, but the elders
counselled patience till nightfall. And they were right. The locusts settled in the bushes
for the night and their wings became wet with dew. Then all Umuofia turned out in spite
of the cold harmattan, and everyone filled his bags and pots with locusts. The next
morning they were roasted in clay pots and then spread in the sun until they became dry
and brittle. And for many days this rare food was eaten with solid palm-oil.
Okonkwo sat in his obi crunching happily with Ikemefuna and Nwoye, and
drinking palm-wine copiously, when Ogbuefi Ezeudu came in. Ezeudu was the oldest
man in this quarter of Umuofia. He had been a great and fearless warrior in his time,
and was now accorded great respect in all the clan. He refused to join in the meal, and
asked Okonkwo to have a word with him outside. And so they walked out together, the
old man supporting himself with his stick. When they were out of earshot, he said to
Okonkwo: "That boy calls you father. Do not bear a hand in his death." Okonkwo was
surprised, and was about to say something when the old man continued: "Yes, Umuofia
has decided to kill him. The Oracle of the Hills and the Caves has pronounced it. They
will take him outside Umuofia as is the custom, and kill him there. But I want you to
have nothing to do with it. He calls you his father."
The next day a group of elders from all the nine villages of Umuofia came to
Okonkwo's house early in the morning, and before they began to speak in low tones
Nwoye and Ikemefuna were sent out. They did not stay very long, but when they went
away Okonkwo sat still for a very long time supporting his chin in his palms. Later in
the day he called Ikemefuna and told him that he was to be taken home the next day.
Nwoye overheard it and burst into tears, whereupon his father beat him heavily. As for
Ikemefuna, he was at a loss. His own home had gradually become very faint and distant.
He still missed his mother and his sister and would be very glad to see them. But
somehow he knew he was not going to see them. He remembered once when men had
talked in low tones with his father, and it seemed now as if it was happening all over
again.