Okonkwo was well received by his mother's kinsmen in Mbanta. The old homo who received him was his mother'due south younger brother, who was now the eldest surviving member of that family unit. His name was Uchendu, and it was he who had received Okonkwo's mother twenty and ten years before when she had been brought home from Umuofia to exist buried with her people. Okonkwo was only a male child so and Uchendu still remembered him crying the traditional farewell: "Mother, mother, female parent is going."

That was many years ago. Today Okonkwo was not bringing his female parent domicile to exist cached with her people. He was taking his family of three wives and their children to seek refuge in his motherland. As before long equally Uchendu saw him with his lamentable and weary company he guessed what had happened, and asked no questions. It was not until the following twenty-four hours that Okonkwo told him the full story. The onetime man listened silently to the end and then said with some relief: "It is a female ochu." And he arranged the requisite rites and sacrifices.

Okonkwo was given a plot of footing on which to build his compound, and two or three pieces of land on which to farm during the coming planting flavour. With the assist of his female parent's kinsmen he built himself an obi and three huts for his wives. He then installed his personal god and the symbols of his departed fathers. Each of Uchendu'due south five sons contributed three hundred seed-yams to enable their cousin to found a subcontract, for as presently as the offset rain came farming would begin.

At last the rain came. Information technology was sudden and tremendous. For two or three moons the lord's day had been gathering force till it seemed to breathe a breath of fire on the earth. All the grass had long been scorched brown, and the sands felt similar live coals to the feet. Evergreen copse wore a dusty coat of brown. The birds were silenced in the forests, and the globe lay panting nether the live, vibrating heat. And and so came the clap of thunder. It was an angry, metallic and thirsty clap, unlike the deep and liquid rumbling of the rainy season. A mighty wind arose and filled the air with dust. Palm copse swayed every bit the current of air combed their leaves into flight crests like foreign and fantastic coiffure.

When the rain finally came, it was in large, solid drops of frozen h2o which the people called "the nuts of the water of sky." They were difficult and painful on the trunk as they fell, yet young people ran nearly happily picking up the cold nuts and throwing them into their mouths to cook.
The earth speedily 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 pelting 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. Only it was like commencement life anew without the vigor and enthusiasm of youth, like learning to become lefthanded in old age. Work no longer had for him the pleasure information technology used to accept, and when at that place was no piece of work to do he saturday in a silent one-half-sleep.

His life had been ruled by a great passion—to become 1 of the lords of the clan. That had been his life-spring. And he had all but accomplished it. Then everything had been broken. He had been cast out of his clan similar a fish onto a dry, sandy beach, panting. Conspicuously his personal god or chi was not made for cracking things. A man could non ascension beyond the destiny of his chi. The saying of the elders was not truthful—that if a man said yea his chi also affirmed. Hither 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 profoundly troubled. He would speak to him after the isa-ifi ceremony.

The youngest of Uchendu'due south five sons, Amikwu, was marrying a new wife. The bride-price had been paid and all just the concluding 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 then it was fourth dimension for the final anniversary of confession.

The daughters of the family were all at that place, some of them having come a long way from their homes in distant villages. Uchendu's eldest daughter had come from Obodo, most half a twenty-four hour period'southward journey away. The daughters of Uchendu'due south brothers were as well there. It was a full gathering of umuada, in the same way equally they would meet if a decease occurred in the family. There were twenty-two of them.
They sat in a big circle on the ground and the helpmate saturday in the eye with a hen in her right hand. Uchendu sat by her, holding the bequeathed staff of the family. All the other men stood outside the circle, watching. Their wives watched also. It was evening and the dominicus was setting.

Uchendu'southward eldest daughter, Njide, asked the questions.

"Recall that if you lot practise not answer truthfully you will endure or even die at childbirth," she began.

"How many men have lain with yous since my brother outset expressed the want to marry you?"

"None," she answered simply.

"Answer truthfully," urged the other women.

"None?" asked Njide.

"None," she answered.

"Swear on this staff of my fathers," said Uchendu.

"I swear," said the helpmate.

Uchendu took the hen from her, slit its throat with a precipitous knife and allowed some of the claret to fall on his bequeathed staff.

From that twenty-four hour period Amikwu took the immature bride to his hut and she became his wife. The daughters of the family did not return to their homes immediately but spent two or 3 days with their kinsmen.

On the second mean solar day Uchendu chosen together his sons and daughters and his nephew, Okonkwo. The men brought their goatskin mats, with which they sabbatum on the floor, and the women sat on a sisal mat spread on a raised bank of globe. Uchendu pulled gently at his gray beard and gnashed his teeth. So he began to speak, quietly and deliberately, picking his words with great care:

"It is Okonkwo that I primarily wish to speak to," he began. "Merely I desire all of yous to note what I am going to say. I am an sometime human being and you lot are all children. I know more than nearly the globe than any of you. If at that place is any one amidst yous who thinks he knows more let him speak upwards," He paused, but no one spoke.

"Why is Okonkwo with us today? This is not his clan. We are only his mother'due south kinsmen. He does not vest here. He is an exile, condemned for seven years to alive in a strange land. And so he is bowed with grief. But there is just one question I would like to inquire him. Can you tell me, Okonkwo, why it is that one of the commonest names we give our children is Nneka, or "Mother is Supreme?" We all know that a man is the caput of the family and his wives do his bidding. A child belongs to its father and his family and non to its mother and her family. A human being belongs to his fatherland and non to his motherland. And yet we say Nneka—'Mother is Supreme.' Why is that?"

There was silence. "I desire Okonkwo to reply me," said Uchendu.

"I do not know the answer," Okonkwo replied.

"Y'all do not know the answer? And then you lot run across that you are a child. Yous have many wives and many children—more children than I have. You are a corking human being in your clan. But yous are still a child, my child. Heed to me and I shall tell you. But there is one more question I shall ask y'all. Why is it that when a woman dies she is taken dwelling to be buried with her own kinsmen? She is not cached with her husband's kinsmen. Why is that? Your female parent was brought home to me and cached with my people. Why was that?"

Okonkwo shook his head.

"He does not know that either," said Uchendu, and withal he is full of sorrow because he has come up to live in his motherland for a few years." He laughed a mirthless laughter, and turned to his sons and daughters. 'What near you lot? Can you lot answer my question?"

They all shook their heads.

"Then listen to me," he said and cleared his pharynx. "It'due south true that a child belongs to its father. Merely when a father beats his kid, it seeks sympathy in its mother'due south hut. A man belongs to his fatherland when things are good and life is sweetness. But when there is sorrow and bitterness he finds refuge in his motherland. Your mother is in that location to protect you. She is cached there. And that is why we say that mother is supreme. Is it correct that you, Okonkwo, should bring to your mother a heavy face and refuse to be comforted? Be careful or y'all may displease the dead. Your duty is to comfort your wives and children and take them back to your fatherland after vii years. But if you allow sorrow to weigh you down and kill you, they will all die in exile." He paused for a long while. 'These are at present your kinsmen." He waved at his sons and daughters.

"You think yous are the greatest sufferer in the earth? Do yous know that men are sometimes banished for life? Practise you lot know that men sometimes lose all their yams and even their children? I had six wives once. I have none now except that immature daughter who knows non her right from her left. Practise you know how many children I have cached—children I begot in my youth and strength? Twenty-two. I did non hang myself, and I am nonetheless live. If yous call up you are the greatest sufferer in the world ask my daughter, Akueni, how many twins she has borne and thrown away. Have you not heard the vocal they sing when a adult female dies?"

'For whom is it well, for whom is it well?
There is no one for whom information technology is well.'

"I have no more to say to yous."