Chike and the River, Page 2

  On the last day of term all the pupils were tidying up the school premises. The boys cut the grass in the playing fields and the girls washed the classrooms. Chike’s class was working near the mango tree with all the tempting ripe fruit which they were forbidden to pick. They sang an old prisoners’ work song and swung their blades to its beat. The last day of term was always a happy, carefree day; but it was also a day of anxiety because the results of the term’s examination would be announced. Of course it was not a promotion examination. Still an examination was an examination and nobody liked to fail.

  Chike heard the headmaster shout, “Abraham!” and stood up to see what was happening. Some other boys had also stood up. It was a trap. The headmaster picked out all those who had stood up and sent them to carry a missionary’s luggage to the village of Okikpe.

  “It is the price you have to pay for being overcurious,” said the headmaster and he told them the proverb about the overcurious monkey who got a bullet in the brain.

  Everyone laughed at the boys who had fallen into the headmaster’s trap.

  Okikpe was six miles away by road. Somewhere on this road there was a bridge across the River Nkisa. But this bridge had been washed away by heavy rains. The missionary’s luggage was loaded into a lorry. The seven boys who had been picked out were to travel in the lorry as far as the bridge. Then they would get down and carry the loads across the stream and on to Okikpe, which was two miles from the river.

  The boys were scared. But the driver of the lorry told them that the river was shallow at that point. Still they were afraid, especially Chike who did not know how to swim.

  The lorry started and Chike felt like a condemned prisoner. Some of the older boys frightened him more by telling stories of people who had been drowned while fording the river.

  “There are stones on the riverbed and if you miss your step once you are finished,” said Mark.

  Mark was a very big boy who was no good at his classwork. The other boys made fun of him and called him Papa.

  “I know someone who went across it yesterday and he said it was five feet deep,” continued Mark.

  “I shall refuse to go across,” said Chike.

  “Well, you can wait with your own share of the luggage until they rebuild the bridge,” said Mark, who was enjoying himself enormously. Some of the bigger boys laughed.

  At last they got to the river and the lorry stopped.

  Chike had taken a private decision to turn round if the water rose higher than his waist. After the luggage had been unloaded Mark said that it should be divided into seven equal loads. “After all we are all in the same class. We are all equal.”

  But the driver of the lorry was very kind and gave only a small basket to Chike.

  Then each boy took off his clothes, wrapped them into a bundle, and carried them with the load on the head. Mark walked straight into the river and began to ford it. Some local people were coming over from the other side. A sudden feeling of defiance came upon Chike and he followed Mark. Some of the bigger boys who had been laughing and boasting were now hanging back. The water rose to Chike’s chest at its deepest point but he did not turn back. Once he stepped on a slippery stone and nearly fell. But he quickly regained his balance. The water which had been growing deeper and deeper was now becoming shallow again. Chike was pleased with himself. Soon he was on dry ground. He turned round proudly to see the others struggling through.

  The rest of the journey was uneventful. But the experience had been very important to Chike. It had given him a good deal of confidence in himself. He felt that any person who could ford a river deserved praise. There was one proverb which Chike’s uncle was fond of saying: It is bad that a man who has swum in the great River Niger should be drowned in its small tributary. It means that a man who has passed a big test should not fail a small one. Chike made a new proverb of his own. He said: A man who can walk through the Nkisa with his bare feet should not be afraid to sail the Niger in a boat.

  6 Brain Pills

  Chike and the others got back to the school at about six in the evening. Of course the school had long closed. So they went to the headmaster’s house to hear their results. Chike and two other boys passed but Mark and the other three failed. As soon as he heard his result Chike ran away as fast as he could for fear of being beaten by the disappointed and angry Mark.

  As soon as he had run away to safety Chike slowed down to a walk. He remembered a poem their teacher had written:

  There was a dull boy in our class

  Who swore: “At all costs I must pass.”

  He read himself blind,

  He cluttered up his mind

  With pills; and was bottom of the class.

  Teacher wrote this little poem when three foolish pupils nearly died from swallowing brain pills. Some dishonest trader had told the three boys that pills would help them to remember what they read. So they bought the harmful drugs from him and began to take them. But just before the examinations they were behaving like mad people and had to be rushed to the hospital.

  They spent five days in hospital and were then discharged. The doctor said they were very lucky; they might have damaged their brains permanently. As for the examination the foolish boys had been so shaken that they failed hopelessly.

  Chike recalled all the wild rumors that spread through the school at the time. Before the boys were discharged from hospital it was rumored that the doctor had pronounced them permanently insane. Another rumor said that one of the boys had slapped the headmaster when he had gone to see them. The source of this last rumor was Ezekiel.

  Chike remembered how worn out the boys had looked the first day they returned to school. Everyone watched them closely for the least sign of unusual behavior. It was only after several days of watching that they were accepted as fully normal. By that time the examinations were already over and the holidays were near.

  It must have been during the holidays that their teacher wrote the little poem which he made public at the beginning of the next term. By then several weeks had passed, and it was possible for everyone to laugh about the incident. Even the three unfortunate boys joined in.

  Chike was now approaching home. He had turned off the tarred road and was walking on the sandy footpath which formed a shortcut to no. 15 Odu Street where he lived. He found a hard, unripe orange by the wayside and began to kick it along the path. He imagined himself as center-forward in a big match. He would dribble past an imaginary opponent and shout Eh! as spectators do when their favorite player outwits an opponent. Then he dribbled past three more and counted “One, two, three” before scoring an imaginary goal. “It’s a goal!” he shouted, and threw his arms in the air.

  Then he saw a shiny object which he had kicked up with a lot of sand. He bent down and picked it up. For a brief moment the world seemed to spin round him. He closed his eyes and then opened them again. Yes, it was there in his palm-a sixpence. He looked around to see if the owner of the money was coming behind. There was no one. He looked ahead; no one was in sight. He closed his hand on the coin and put the hand into his pocket. Then he walked boldly away. But soon he found himself running.

  7 The Fate of the Coin

  Chike had never had as much money as this before. The largest sum of money he had ever had at one time was threepence. That was at Easter when he had joined a group of other boys to make music.

  The leader of the group was a masked dancer. In the custom of the people this masked dancer was regarded as a spirit. The other boys were called his disciples or attendants. Chike was one of the disciples.

  Their instruments were very simple. They had one small but real drum made of wood and animal skin. The other drum was a biscuit tin beaten with a stick. Then a few rattles were made by shaking cigarette tins containing pebbles. Those who had no instruments clapped their hands. The group went from house to house and sang for the inmates. Usually they were given a little money but sometimes they received food or biscuits. At the end of the day they
had shared their earnings and Chike received threepence which he spent on groundnuts.

  All this happened some time ago. Now Chike had become a different person. He had no desire to spend his money on groundnuts. He wanted to spend it in fulfilling his ambition. Of course sixpence was not enough; he needed one shilling for the trip. But as their teacher said, little drops of water make the mighty ocean. Thinking about this saying Chike remembered his mother’s friend, Sarah, who sold snuff at Umuofia. Sarah was a great talker and her language was full of vivid pictures. She once told a story about a little bird and the River Niger. Chike so liked the story that he added bits to improve it. This is Chike’s version of the story: Once there was a quarrel between a little bird and the River. The River was full of scorn and contempt for the size of the bird, and said: “Even the biggest bird in the air is beneath my notice. As for you, I think of you as a grain of sand. How long are you? Two inches. Do you know how long I am? Two thousand and six hundred miles! I come all the way from the Futa Jalon Mountains through five countries. Get out of my sight.”

  The little bird swooped down on the River and sipped a mouthful of water and swallowed it. Then he said to the River: “However great you may be I have now reduced you by a drop. You are smaller than you were this morning. Come and catch me if you can.” And with that he flew away proudly. The River thought about it and decided that the little bird was right. And he realized too that there was one thing a river could not do. It could not fly.

  Chike’s interest in the River Niger probably began from the day he heard that story. Of course Sarah had told it much more simply. Chike had added the part about the length of the river, the five countries, and the name of the mountains. Geography was one of his favorite subjects and he liked to study his atlas.

  Now to go back to the sixpence. Chike wrapped it carefully in a small piece of paper and put it in his school box. But after one week he began to think of ways of making the sixpence grow into a shilling. One way was to start trading with it. But what kind of trading could he do with such a small sum of money? In any case he knew that his uncle would not allow him to trade. In the end Chike took his problem to his friend Samuel, alias S.M.O.G. Samuel knew how to act like a grown-up. He sat down and began to think, his chin in his left hand.

  “You want to change your sixpence into a shilling?” he asked.

  “Yes,” replied Chike.

  “You can go to a money-doubler.”

  “Where does he live?”

  “I don’t know but I can find out for you, tomorrow.”

  So they agreed to go in search of a money-doubler on the following day. Meanwhile they decided to go and play. On their way they passed by people selling cooked guinea-fowl eggs and specially prepared meat called suya. An idea occurred to S.M.O.G. He had threepence in his pocket.

  “Let us buy eggs and suya,” he said. “If I buy threepence worth of suya and you buy threepence worth of eggs then I can have some of your eggs and you can have some of my suya.”

  “But the only money I have is for doubling,” said Chike.

  “You talk like a small boy,” said S.M.O.G. “You will have threepence left which you can double to become sixpence and then double the sixpence to become one shilling.”

  “That is true,” said Chike. “I can even double the shilling.”

  “Of course,” said S.M.O.G.

  “But why spend as much as threepence?” asked Chike. “Let us start with one penny each.”

  “Small-boy talk again,” sneered S.M.O.G. “One penny will only buy one egg; threepence will buy four. Why should we have half an egg each when we can have two? Did we eat eggs yesterday? Why should we live by the River Niger and then wash our hands with spittle?”

  Chike gave in. The proverb was very convincing. Chike had heard it used before about Peter Nwaba, the miserly trader. Someone said Mr. Nwaba lived on the Niger and yet washed his hands with spittle; he was very rich and yet lived like a pauper.

  Chike did not care to be likened to Mr. Nwaba. So he gave in. He bought four eggs and received threepence change. He gave S.M.O.G. two of the eggs and put two in his pocket. Then they went in search of suya.

  Chike felt like a grown man. He had never spent threepence at one blow and had never eaten a whole skewer of suya before. He had only eaten one or two small pieces given him by Ezekiel or S.M.O.G. Today he was going to eat a whole stick.

  S.M.O.G. knew his way about and they soon found the suya people. Chike was fascinated by the way it was prepared. Small pieces of meat were skewered on a slender piece of stick. They were then dipped in a mixture of palm oil, pepper, groundnut, and salt. The sticks or spits were then stuck into the ground round an open fire which cooked the meat slowly.

  S.M.O.G. paid threepence and took two hot and appetizing skewers. Chike almost danced with excitement. He wanted to start eating at once but S.M.O.G. insisted that they should go to the shade of a nearby mango tree.

  “We must not eat like people without home-training, eating and walking along the street,” he said.

  Chike felt somewhat ashamed of himself and agreed with S.M.O.G. They sat on the exposed roots of a mango tree and began to munch their suya, pulling off the small pieces of meat from the spit with their teeth.

  8 Chike Falls Out with S.M.O.G.

  When they had eaten the suya, S.M.O.G. suggested that they play a little game with their eggs. He knocked each of his eggs against his front teeth and from the sound decided which had the harder shell. He held it in his closed palm allowing the pointed end to show between his thumb and first finger. Then he asked Chike to knock one of his eggs against it.

  “If your egg cracks it will become mine but if mine cracks I will give it to you,” he said.

  Chike tried each egg on his teeth and selected one. He rubbed its pointed end on his palm and then blew on it with his breath.

  “Go on. Don’t waste my time,” said S.M.O.G. Chike knocked his egg against his friend’s. There was a sound of cracking, but at first it was not clear which one had broken. Chike looked at his and it was whole; then he saw that he had smashed S.M.O.G.’s. He leapt up in joy. Very sadly S.M.O.G. gave him the broken egg. Now he had only one. “Let us try the other two,” suggested Chike. But S.M.O.G. refused.

  “Get out!” he said angrily in English.

  “Come in!” replied Chike, as he carefully removed the shell of the broken egg. “Why are you crying? You suggested the game.”

  “Who is crying?” said S.M.O.G. “Mind yourself,” he added, again in English.

  Chike laughed as he ate the egg he had won. S.M.O.G. broke his remaining egg against a mango root and began to eat it silently. Chike began to whistle a song about a boy who cries at play whenever the game goes against him.

  S.M.O.G. stood up and began to look for something. Soon he picked up an overripe mango that lay on the ground. Something had eaten part of it and left a small round hole. S.M.O.G. held the fruit close to his ear, smiling. Then he gave it to Chike.

  “There is something singing inside here. Listen to it.”

  Chike was suspicious and held the mango at arm’s length.

  “He is afraid,” sneered S.M.O.G. “Does a mango bite? If it were eating eggs you would become bold.”

  Chike brought the fruit nearer to his ear. In doing so he closed the round hole with his palm. Then something stung him in the palm and he dropped the fruit and cried out at the same time.

  S.M.O.G. laughed and laughed and laughed. “Bush boy,” he said.

  Chike’s palm was smarting very badly and he kept rubbing and scratching it. Then he turned and began to go home, still scratching his palm. S.M.O.G. had a sudden change of mind. He went to Chike and said he was sorry. At first Chike ignored him. But S.M.O.G. persisted and very soon they were friends again. The pain from the bee’s sting was much reduced. Before they got home Chike presented one of his eggs to S.M.O.G.

  9 The Money-Doubler

  The next day S.M.O.G. had to go to the General Hospital to see
his sick mother. So he could not accompany Chike to the money-doubler. But he described carefully the way to the man’s place and Chike set out on his own.

  The place was not difficult to find. The signboard outside read:

  PROFFESSOR CHANDUS

  FAMOUS MARGICIAN, AND HERBALISTS

  A TRIAL WILL CONVINSE YOU

  He was a short man and wore a white singlet that had turned brown. His shorts were oversized. They were made from very hard material like tarpaulin and creaked when he sat down.

  “What do you want?” he asked.

  “I want you to double my money,” said Chike.

  “How much?” asked the man.

  “Threepence.”

  “Three what?”

  “Threepence,” said Chike. “That is all I have.”

  “Ha ha ha ha ha. He has brought threepence to Professor Chandus. Ha ha ha ha ha!”

  “That is all I have,” said Chike again.

  “All right,” said Chandus. “I like you very much. What is your name?”

  “Chike.”

  “Chike. I like you. What is your father’s occupation?”

  “My father is dead,” replied Chike.

  “Yes, I knew that but I wanted to test you,” said Chandus.

  Chike wondered how he knew. It showed he was a real magician.

  “Professor Chandus does not double threepence but he will help you,” he said. “I will give you something which will bring you plenty of money. Look at me.”

  Chike looked steadily at him. He brought out a six-inch nail from one of his pockets and pushed it into his nostril until the whole length had disappeared.

  “Call me Professor Chandus,” he said.

  “Professor Chandus,” said Chike.

  “That is my name. I am alpha and omega. Abracadabra. Pick up that piece of paper.”