Ezeudu had taken three titles in his life. It was a rare achievement. There were
only four titles in the clan, and only one or two men in any generation ever achieved the
fourth and highest. When they did, they became the lords of the land. Because he had
taken titles, Ezeudu was to be buried after dark with only a glowing brand to light the
sacred ceremony.
But before this quiet and final rite, the tumult increased tenfold. Drums beat
violently and men leaped up and down in frenzy. Guns were fired on all sides and
sparks flew out as machetes clanged together in warriors' salutes. The air was full of
dust and the smell of gunpowder. It was then that the one-handed spirit came, carrying a
basket full of water. People made way for him on all sides and the noise subsided. Even
the smell of gunpowder was swallowed in the sickly smell that now filled the air. He
danced a few steps to the funeral drums and then went to see the corpse.
"Ezeudu!" he called in his guttural voice. "If you had been poor in your last life I
would have asked you to be rich when you come again. But you were rich. If you had
been a coward, I would have asked you to bring courage. But you were a fearless
warrior. If you had died young, I would have asked you to get life. But you lived long.
So I shall ask you to come again the way you came before. If your death was the death
of nature, go in peace. But if a man caused it, do not allow him a moment's rest." He
danced a few more steps and went away. The drums and the dancing began again and
reached fever-heat. Darkness was around the corner, and the burial was near. Guns fired
the last salute and the cannon rent the sky. And then from the centre of the delirious fury
came a cry of agony and shouts of horror. It was as if a spell had been cast. All was
silent. In the centre of the crowd a boy lay in a pool of blood. It was the dead man's
sixteen-year-old son, who with his brothers and half-brothers had been dancing the
traditional farewell to their father. Okonkwo's gun had exploded and a piece of iron had
pierced the boy's heart.
The confusion that followed was without parallel in the tradition of Umuofia.
Violent deaths were frequent, but nothing like this had ever happened.
The only course open to Okonkwo was to flee from the clan. It was a crime
against the earth goddess to kill a clansman, and a man who committed it must flee from