"Answer the question at once," roared Okonkwo, who stood beside her. All the
family were there and some of the neighbours too.
"Leave her to me," the medicine man told Okonkwo in a cool, confident voice.
He turned again to Ezinma. "Where did you bury your iyi-uwa?"
"Where they bury children," she replied, and the quiet spectators murmured to
themselves.
"Come along then and show me the spot," said the medicine man.
The crowd set out with Ezinma leading the way and Okagbue following closely
behind her. Okonkwo came next and Ekwefi followed him. When she came to the main
road, Ezinma turned left as if she was going to the stream.
"But you said it was where they bury children?" asked the medicine man.
"No," said Ezinma, whose feeling of importance was manifest in her sprightly
walk. She sometimes broke into a run and stopped again suddenly. The crowd followed
her silently. Women and children returning from the stream with pots of water on their
heads wondered what was happening until they saw Okagbue and guessed that it must
be something to do with ogbanje. And they all knew Ekwefi and her daughter very well.
When she got to the big udala tree Ezinma turned left into the bush, and the
crowd followed her. Because of her size she made her way through trees and creepers
more quickly than her followers. The bush was alive with the tread of feet on dry leaves
and sticks and the moving aside of tree branches. Ezinma went deeper and deeper and
the crowd went with her. Then she suddenly turned round and began to walk back to the
road. Everybody stood to let her pass and then filed after her.
"If you bring us all this way for nothing I shall beat sense into you," Okonkwo
threatened.
"1 have told you to let her alone .1 know how to deal with them," said Okagbue.