other as he searched. When he brought out the snuff-bottle he tapped it a few times
against his knee-cap before taking out some snuff on the palm of his left hand. Then he
remembered that he had not taken out his snuff-spoon. He searched his bag again and
brought out a small, flat, ivory spoon, with which he carried the brown snuff to his
nostrils.
Ezinma took the dish in one hand and the empty water bowl in the other and
went back to her mother's hut. "She should have been a boy," Okonkwo said to himself
again. His mind went back to Ikemefuna and he shivered. If only he could find some
work to do he would be able to forget. But it was the season of rest between the harvest
and the next planting season. The only work that men did at this time was covering the
walls of their compound with new palm fronds. And Okonkwo had already done that.
He had finished it on the very day the locusts came, when he had worked on one side of
the wall and Ikemefuna and Nwoye on the other.
"When did you become a shivering old woman," Okonkwo asked himself, "you,
who are known in all the nine villages for your valour in war? How can a man who has
killed five men in battle fall to pieces because he has added a boy to their number?
Okonkwo, you have become a woman indeed."
He sprang to his feet, hung his goatskin bag on his shoulder and went to visit his
friend, Obierika.
Obierika was sitting outside under the shade of an orange tree making thatches
from leaves of the raffia-palm. He exchanged greetings with Okonkwo and led the way
into his obi.
"I was coming over to see you as soon as I finished that thatch," he said, rubbing
off the grains of sand that clung to his thighs.
"Is it well?" Okonkwo asked.
"Yes," replied Obierika. "My daughter's suitor is coming today and I hope we
will clinch the matter of the bride-price. I want you to be there."