Palm trees swayed as the wind combed their leaves into flying crests like strange
and fantastic coiffure.
When the rain finally came, it was in large, solid drops of frozen water which
the people called "the nuts of the water of heaven." They were hard and painful on the
body as they fell, yet young people ran about happily picking up the cold nuts and
throwing them into their mouths to melt.
The earth quickly came to life and the birds in the forests fluttered around and
chirped merrily. A vague scent of life and green vegetation was diffused in the air. As
the rain began to fall more soberly and in smaller liquid drops, children sought for
shelter, and all were happy, refreshed and thankful.
Okonkwo and his family worked very hard to plant a new farm. But it was like
beginning life anew without the vigour and enthusiasm of youth, like learning to
become left-handed in old age. Work no longer had for him the pleasure it used to have,
and when there was no work to do he sat in a silent half-sleep.
His life had been ruled by a great passion--to become one of the lords of the
clan. That had been his life-spring. And he had all but achieved it. Then everything had
been broken. He had been cast out of his clan like a fish onto a dry, sandy beach,
panting. Clearly his personal god or chi was not made for great things. A man could not
rise beyond the destiny of his chi. The saying of the elders was not true--that if a man
said yea his chi also affirmed. Here was a man whose chi said nay despite his own
affirmation.
The old man, Uchendu, saw clearly that Okonkwo had yielded to despair and he
was greatly troubled. He would speak to him after the isa-ifi ceremony.
The youngest of Uchendu's five sons, Amikwu, was marrying a new wife. The
bride-price had been paid and all but the last ceremony had been performed. Amikwu
and his people had taken palm-wine to the bride's kinsmen about two moons before
Okonkwo's arrival in Mbanta. And so it was time for the final ceremony of confession.