Okonkwo cleared his throat and moved his feet to the beat of the drums. It filled
him with fire as it had always done from his youth. He trembled with the desire to
conquer and subdue. It was like the desire for woman.
"We shall be late for the wrestling," said Ezinma to her mother.
"They will not begin until the sun goes down."
"But they are beating the drums."
"Yes. The drums begin at noon but the wrestling waits until the sun begins to
sink. Go and see if your father has brought out yams for the afternoon."
"He has. Nwoye's mother is already cooking."
"Go and bring our own, then. We must cook quickly or we shall be late for the
wrestling."
Ezinma ran in the direction of the barn and brought back two yams from the
dwarf wall.
Ekwefi peeled the yams quickly. The troublesome nanny-goat sniffed about,
eating the peelings. She cut the yams into small pieces and began to prepare a pottage,
using some of the chicken.
At that moment they heard someone crying just outside their compound. It was
very much like Obiageli, Nwoye's sister.
"Is that not Obiageli weeping?" Ekwefi called across the yard to Nwoye's
mother.
"Yes," she replied. "She must have broken her waterpot."
The weeping was now quite close and soon the children filed in, carrying on
their heads various sizes of pots suitable to their years. Ikemefuna came first with the
biggest pot, closely followed by Nwoye and his two younger brothers. Obiageli brought