"Why?" asked Obierika and Okonkwo together.
"That is the strange part of it. You know his first wife who walks with a stick?"
"Yes. She is called Ozoemena."
"That is so," said Ofoedu. "Ozoemena was, as you know, too old to attend
Ndulue during his i llness. His younger wives did that. When he died this morning, one
of these women went to Ozoemena's hut and told her. She rose from her mat, took her
stick and walked over to the obi. She knelt on her knees and hands at the threshold and
called her husband, who was laid on a mat. 'Ogbuefi Ndulue,' she called, three times,
and went back to her hut. When the youngest wife went to call her again to be present at
the washing of the body, she found her lying on the mat, dead."
"That is very strange, indeed," said Okonkwo. "They will put off Ndulue's
funeral until his wife has been buried."
"That is why the drum has not been beaten to tell Umuofla."
"It was always said that Ndulue and Ozoemena had one mind," said Obierika. "I
remember when I was a young boy there was a song about them. He could not do
anything without telling her."
"I did not know that," said Okonkwo. "I thought he was a strong man in his
youth."
"He was indeed," said Ofoedu.
Okonkwo shook his head doubtfully.
"He led Umuofia to war in those days," said Obierika.
Okonkwo was beginning to feel like his old self again. All that he required was
something to occupy his mind. If he had killed Ikemefuna during the busy planting
season or harvesting it would not have been so bad, his mind would have been centred