Homecoming of the gods

by Frank Achebe

  He had carried his anxieties over his wife and family to the town, very much like he should. At the same time, he was certain that she would not have stood him turning back just as he had planned to. She would have urged him on to the very end. She would have encouraged him to take the risk he’d taken for her for others. She would have told him in the same tone as his mother had that it was there and there alone that he belonged. Not in the safe corner of the world.

  She had been through similar conditions, even worse ones. She had survived them by living under the eyes of God. That was the very lesson of her life, one that she had learnt very well and one that she teaches every time she gets the chance. She had hurt herself when she had taken the reins in her own hands. Her life was in God’s hands, not in hers and certainly not in his.

  It would matter very little if he were there with her. He was as helpless as she was. If she was in mortal danger, it was God that she needed to be there for her and it was God that she looked up to be there for her.

  In that realization, Zach prayed God’s jealousy over the love of his life and some peace and clarity of judgement for his raging mind.

  In that moment, Zach felt peace filter into and through his bones. Someone wanted him to leave the town. Someone had brought him to the town. He stood between them, more or less.

  In that peace, he heard himself mutter: ‘No one is leaving this town, until it is over.’ It was to all that she meant to him that those words escaped his lips.

  Chapter Six: The Rat and The Hot Water

  The next morning, Zach woke full of ideas again. Not ideas of leaving the town but those of finding the answer to the riddle. He had two faces in his inner eye and he set out to pay them a visit. The first person was Hééb’s mother and the second was Sir Daía. He was hungry from yesterday. But he would not stress it as he could not chew his own fingers. He found in the peace of last night the assurance that God would provide.

  Hééb’s mother was not home when his knuckles rammed her gate. As he traversed the town one more time, it felt very homely, in quaint way. His next stop was the knight’s.

  He rang the bell and waited. It was not the girl who answered the door. Sir Daía himself, dressed in a greying singlet, stood at the door, with a wide smile on his face. This time, Zach did not have to introduce himself again. The man recognized him after regarding him for almost half a minute.

  Zach was not surprised. If not for anything, he knew he was having breakfast in the gentleman’s home.

  ‘Young sir, your friend, the hunter, he is not with you.’ Sir Daía pointed out.

  ‘He’s been busy sir.’

  ‘Oh, busy with what? You know, they told me about the boy that died. Not that I did not know about him. I mean, I knew his mother.’ The man had sat and Zach with him. The monologue had started. ‘You know, I totally agree with the priest….’ Zach was sure that the man had an abundance of things he wanted to say.

  More than anyone, he felt the weight of death overhanging him. ‘My wife is trying to convince me that I could live forever.’

  Zach laughed. ‘Is she succeeding?’

  ‘Far from it. She’s succeeding in putting me in this box. I suppose if I can live well in this box, then I can live better in the pine box.’ From the gestures that accompanied that, Zach knew that the man meant the house.

  Tea and Danishes was served and the conversation moved to the dining table.

  Zach understood what was happening to the man. His wife out of concern for his health was keeping him from the world. And out of respect for her concern, he was stealing at the chance to have one of such dialogues or to give his monologue. He had descended the stairs and had sat in the living room hopeful of a visitor, any visitor.

  Sir Daía was one of those men who could stand you by the roadside and have a long discussion with you until you missed your bus. He believed that everyone had something to say and should be listened to. Now all of that was taken from him in addition to his heart. It did not feel any good since he was going to die after all.

  He had a lot to say. And at the price of breakfast, Zach was there to listen.

  # # #

  Brim woke that morning more curios than ever. His curiosity grew even stronger when news broke out that the boy had made Ben Capital, a blind man known all over town to see again. He wanted to join the numbers that were trooping to the mayor’s house where he was addressing the people. But Money was not letting that happen. ‘You’re not going anywhere.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘So when did this piece of meat start questioning the very person that had cooked it?’

  Brim had no idea. He felt insulted by the metaphors his brother was using to describe their relationship.

  ‘I know you to be such an ingrate….’

  ‘Ingrate?’

  He got a slap for that.

  ‘Now, listen and listen closely,’ Money leaned over the boy who was now in tears, more from the intimidation than from the slap, and mustering all the villain instinct he could find within him, addressed him: ‘If you are looking for something to be grateful for, then be grateful that I have not abandoned your little ass. You could have ended up worse than that vegetable boy. At least he had more brains than you do. And watch out for that cleft lip.’

  Money was mistaken on a number of levels. Aside the fact that he was now taking things on a personal level; he was also blinded by his greed. He had gone personal on the boy because he knew that it would take only intimidation to keep the boy’s mouth shut. Brim was a smart one and his desire to know the world was something the life which he had could not take from him.

  A part of him urged him to take the money he’d made off Hééb and leave the town. But he fancied that he could make more. There were no guarantees that the news would change anything for anybody. Not even for Hééb if he wanted to blackmail him. And certainly not for the townspeople who had taken a fancy to the boy. It was not his business; it would be if there were money to it.

  As an enterprising young man, he was thinking on the long term. He had trained himself to see opportunity in everything and the current situation was very much the same.

  However, more than all that, his reaction expressed the hold that he had over his brother and his desire to not lose it—and him. He was not sure that the boy could ever take care of himself—not quite as he could and as he did.

  As he lay weeping on the floor of the single room he shared with his brother, Brim thought out something that would give him the break he wanted desperately. It was more from his curiosity than from wordiness that he wanted to see the boy. Who wouldn’t?

  He cleared his throat and began in a milder tone, trying as much as he could to hide its conspiratorial undertone: ‘I am sorry brother. Forgive me. Even if I hadn’t said it before, I am grateful to you my brother.’

  Money mellowed down. He loved his brother more than any other thing. And the weaker he was, the more he wanted to be strong for him.

  ‘Alright, you can go. But come back on time and don’t go talking to anybody about anything.’

  # # #

  Daniel saw that the girl more than just listened to him. He saw that he appealed to her sense of self. She believed in him. Now he was filled with thoughts of her.

  Last night, he had fancied that it was she instead of her mother that he was sharing the passions of the night with. The fancy had relieved him and in a surreptitious way, he was now thinking in terms of making that fancy real, if he could. He judged that he could after all, he appealed to her sense of self.

  Now as he prepared to receive his tea from her hand, he thought of some modesty with which he could impress her and stay awhile on her mind.

  The door opened and Ūö walked in carrying the tray of tea and bread in hand. He waited till she was about leaving when he began—just as she wanted him to. ‘Hey, my dear lawyer, forgive me but do allow me to call you that.’

  ‘I don’t mind at all.’ She said with a cheerful face.
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  ‘Oh, thanks.’ He waited a moment before proceeding, ‘Do you think that good can be used to justify evil? Or rather, vice versa?’

  She did not understand.

  ‘I don’t know but even though you are not a lawyer yet, I know you possess the inborn instinct of one that now leads you towards the profession. Am I right?’

  ‘Yeah,’ she was not sure. He sounded right.

  ‘I don’t know but it’s has been going through my mind. It’s not just about me. This is the core of the law profession—the demand that simple reason, human existence, conscience, history, society and of course civil institutions places on us to justify our actions and thoughts in light of accepted standards and norms. I mean, there are many ways to it. Some appeal to need, others to logic, or to a religious book, or to history. You must understand that I have a reason for being here, for doing this. I wouldn’t even ask you to forgive me. I mean, I really have no excuses. What I have are reasons. They may justify me in your eyes or they may indict me. Be the judge over me. But I sense that you are a woman of strong affections. But what justifications do I really have? At least, there are people in worse situations than I am….’ It took him a bit longer to get at the lie he had to tell her. ‘I have a mother and they say she has a bad liver. Our country is in a bad state already and there are rarely places for people like me….’

  He needn’t go further. ‘I understand.’ Ūö was relieved for now she had an excuse, a reason, and a justification to attach to the forgiveness that she had already given him.

  ‘And one more thing: you must forgive your mother as well.’

  He hadn’t thought about that one line but when it came off, and when he saw the look on her face, he was sure that it worked the magic he had intended.

  He searched his wits and it gave him something golden: ‘My dear lawyer, it’s a quid pro quo world. But not everyone would give to his neighbour without demanding something in return.’ The vague reference was to her mother not helping him when she could free. It won her his sympathy as it breathed on the forgiveness she had once given to her mother. From thence, Ūö was certain that she had found in him someone that understood her as much as she wanted to be understood. If she had any guards against her mother’s boys, she let them down to this one.

  # # #

  Zach left the Sir’s place by midday and fifteen minutes into the other side of the day; he was standing before those gates. Hééb’s mother was delighted to have him and she showed her delight.

  ‘Ma,’ Zach began with the woman standing in between the two leaves of the gates. ‘I think I have found an answer to your riddle.’

  ‘Oh, I’m listening.’ She beamed.

  Seeing that she was in a haste and was ready to hear him out on the spot, Zach hit her up. ‘I want to believe that you think you are,… but you are not the answer.’

  ‘How do you mean?’

  Zach felt that he should put in a dramatic moment for her. But he had no parables of tales of his own to tell her. He would’ve given up his attempt to be dramatic if one as told by Biyar had not come to mind as he traversed the town.

  ‘Once upon a time in a bush, a bat and a bush rat lived and fed together but the bat was always jealous of the bush rat because when he cooked the food, it was always better. One day, the bush rat inquired of his companion of how he made his soup and how it came to be so tasty. After a long time in persuasion, the bat replied that his flesh was so sweet that he boiled himself in the soup every time it was his turn to cook. The bush rat wanted to see how this was done and so the bat, who was unwilling to teach him how to make good soups, prepared a soup beforehand and jumped into it after haven let it cool down a bit. Then he called the rat and told him to come and see. When the rat saw this, he went home and told his wife and the whole animals to come to a party in his house that he would make a soup like that of the bat. He then told them to boil some hot water and when they were not watching, he jumped into the pot of water and died. Tell me, ma, who do you think killed the bush rat? The hot water? Or the rat that deceived him?’

  The woman did not understand and Zach saw it all in her face, even in the smile behind which she tried to hide her obfuscation.

  Feeling satisfied with himself, he returned to the wardroom. He now had a neighbour for the night.

  While the man with whom he shared the wardroom was whining and asking his wife to take him to the mayor’s place, Ben Capital was in ecstasy. The man who was blind from birth was shouting, throwing his hands up, hugging people and asking questions about this and about that.

  ‘It is the work of God and not mine,’ Ekeó was telling them. ‘Hey, you madam, this way, why are you looking like that? What is the problem?’

  The woman stepped forward from the crowd that had grown larger. ‘My husband, he lost his government job. And we have not been able to manage without it.’

  ‘Oh dear, wipe your eyes, dear one for God indeed is with you. Your family shall once again be blessed.’

  Another man wanted his left eye fixed. It was fixed. A woman had diabetes. A child was brought forward.

  In the crowd, the hunter Othí looked on with a smile on his face. All his thoughts were on what he would demand from the boy when it came to his turn. A bag of money was certainly it. And of course the ability to stop drinking. If he could manage with that too.

  By the time he arrived the mayor’s place, following his curiosity from the wardroom to the mayor’s place, Zach was visibly angry. All of that was a mockery of people’s conditions. He wanted to find Kuniā and reprimand her for allowing all that to happen under her nose. However, by the time his curiosity was satisfied and he was about leaving, he was full of rage—rage that could have been spite. Not more than five minutes into his walk back to the health centre, he heard a voice calling him from behind. When he turned, he met the boy.

  ‘My apologies, Mr. Zachariah. If you don’t mind. A minute please.’

  Zach waited up.

  ‘I see that you did otherwise.’

  ‘You mean, travel?’

  ‘Yeah, I meant that. Not that your wife is in any grave danger. Even if she were in one….’

  ‘Could you please not speak of my wife again? Not now and not ever again. Thanks.’

  ‘I’m sorry. I’m sorry. My bad manners. I suppose it’s a sensitive corner. Do you know you are blessed? Married people are really blessed?’

  ‘What do you want?’

  ‘Nothing actually. I just want to, you know, still appeal to your better judgement. Tell me Mr Zachariah, do you love to see people suffer?’

  ‘Of course I don’t.’

  ‘I suppose that being the man that you are, that if you could, you would help everyone you ever meet if you could. Like that boy Pûjó. If you could, you would have saved him, you would have rewarded his desire to live.’

  ‘Well, I participate in people’s suffering when I can’t save them from it. There is comfort in that, at least. As to the boy, his desire to live was well rewarded.’

  ‘Exactly. But you need a heart like mine to want to do more than comfort people. You want to save them, give them their redemption…, if you can. That I believe is the meaning of Christ’s life.’

  ‘You are joking! You don’t know anything about the life of Christ and what it means to those of us that share in its mystery.’

  The boy chuckled. ‘Oh dear, I promise you that I do. I do share in its mystery myself and I only seek to elevate my life to His. I want to give peace to those that suffer.’

  ‘Then good luck with that.’ Zach turned and started in the opposite direction.

  ‘Mr Zachariah, forgive my….’ Zach kept on. He was not listening this time.

  # # #

  Brim left the mayor’s place in a bad mood. The sight was disappointing and distasteful to him. He was not at all impressed, not when he had borne that body, that terrible pack of dead flesh in his own hands. It was now more than mere curiosity; he was now a concerned person.

 
Out of respect for his brother, he walked home silently, except for a few greeting stops on the way back.

  Chapter Seven: Where Is the Love?

  Zach woke to the news of the passing of the old chap, Sir Daía. The man had died in his sleep. He was privileged to have heard a bit of the man’s last words. It did make him feel as if it were his father that had died. Though nothing other than the monologues and the means had transpired between the two, that connection had been made. Thus that morning, the thoughts that dominated his mind were those of his father’s. Zachariah senior shared the same sense of reality with the knight. This sense of reality looked upon the world with generous concern over its fate. It was this concern that had driven the senior Zach to seek out a pastorate. But as Zach observed, this concern dissipated in his father’s old age as it had in the knight’s. In a more profound sense, it had taken another form, a less generous form.

  It always did and naturally so, for at old age, all they had were history and history always cast very thick and dark shadows over the future.

  He had served as the head pastor of a three-thousand congregation. His retirement had coincided with the death of his wife after a long struggle with blood cancer. Following that, he had removed himself totally from all that was once his life. He had reasons for after all, the world had had enough of him already. It did feel as if there was a part of him that he’d left behind. The connection between the death of his wife and his retirement was not so obvious on a fundamental level. It was the beginning of a new life for him. However, he did see in his last son, Zach the hero of our present story, a tendency towards ease in life. After leaving school, the boy had no plans. The boy did not see anything in life that challenged him nor did he want to see.

  Zach’s mother was the greatest influence in his life. She had rang it in his ears from as long as he could remember having ears, that his life was not his. It was not obvious for anything. Her boy was not a do-gooder nor did he so much share in the generosity of the Atlases of the world—those who bore the weight of their worlds on their shoulders. There was nothing special about the boy. To be able to make such prophetic statements over a life like his required something special.