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.

The daughters of the family were all there, some of them having come a long way from their

homes in distant villages. Uchendu's eldest daughter had come from Obodo, nearly half a day's

journey away. The daughters of Uehuiona were also there. It was a full gathering of umuada, in the

same way as they would meet if a death occurred. There were twenty-two of them.

They sat in a big circle on the ground and the young bride in the centre with a hen in her right

hand. Uchendu before her, holding the ancestral staff of the family. The men stood outside the circle,

watching. Their wives also. It was evening and the sun was setting. Uchendu's eldest daughter, Njide,

asked her, "Remember that if you do not answer truthfully you will suffer or even die at