"I do not. Why should I? But the Oracle did not ask me to carry out its decision."
"But someone had to do it. If we were all afraid of blood, it would not be done.
And what do you think the Oracle would do then?"
"You know very well, Okonkwo, that I am not afraid of blood and if anyone tells
you that I am, he is telling a lie. And let me tell you one thing, my friend. If I were you I
would have stayed at home. What you have done will not please the Earth. It is the kind
of action for which the goddess wipes out whole families."
"The Earth cannot punish me for obeying her messenger," Okonkwo said. "A
child's fingers are not scalded by a piece of hot yam which its mother puts into its
palm."
"That is true," Obierika agreed. "But if the Oracle said that my son should be
killed I would neither dispute it nor be the one to do it."
They would have gone on arguing had Ofoedu not come in just then. It was clear
from his twinkling eyes that he had important news. But it would be impolite to rush
him. Obierika offered him a lobe of the kola nut he had broken with Okonkwo. Ofoedu
ate slowly and talked about the locusts. When he finished his kola nut he said: "The
things that happen these days are very strange."
"What has happened?" asked Okonkwo.
"Do you know Ogbuefi Ndulue?" Ofoedu asked.
"Ogbuefi Ndulue of Ire village," Okonkwo and Obierika said together.
"He died this morning," said Ofoedu.
"That is not strange. He was the oldest man in Ire," said Obierika.
"You are right," Ofoedu agreed. "But you ought to ask why the drum has not
beaten to tell Umuofia of his death."