Chapter four

It was September and it rained almost every day. The atmosphere was very cold and damp. During such periods, except fisherman and women, lumber men, and desperate crude oil bunkers, most people remained indoors.

Social life no longer bubbled. Life became very dull drab and weary. People who were a bit well off felt the effects of the poor weather more. For such people, the local cinema, the church, the routine visits they usually made to see their colleagues, were not part of their daily schedule again. For Ereyei, it was long weary period. School would resume in early November. Most teachers had travelled, and the usual mutual visits had come to a halt. He had nowhere to go; he was shut in, shut in to have time with his heart.

On a cold morning, Ereyei sat quietly in the porch of his well-builtbungalow. He looked at the heavy rain drops which were falling like wind driven mangoes. He was pensive as though some evil had happened somewhere. Then suddenly he saw a hen.

Strange enough the hen was under an indian almond tree directly facing the porch. She could not move. She could not flutter as the rain was gathering more momentum. Much rain drops had splashed much water on her, and cold had enveloped her. Her wings were quite wet and the sign of her entire body captured by the September cold was visible.

Ereyei stared at her with unusual attention. He

saw that the hen was lonely, as lonely as himself. He felt the cold that was in the hen. He felt the bedraggled position of the hen. He felt the helplessness of the hen. "I have no father, mother, brother, or sister. I am alone in this world, as lonely as this hen. Why? They say God is loving; they say God is merciful. But I'm not seeing any kindness in him; I'm not seeing any love in him. Why has he treated me this way? What did I do? Why has God denied me of the warmth and glow of marital life? Why has he denied me of children? Why? Why? Why?"

Suddenly he stepped into the rain and went straight to the hen. "As you are so I am. We are partners. You are lonely, I am lonely. You are cold, I am cold. I am human. I have a house; but now I have no house; I am with you. I just like to be with you.

Life has no meaning. Perhaps this is my story, perhaps this is my story; perhaps this is my way.

Ereyei stood by the hen making attempts to raise her. But something halted him; an invisible power restrained him and suddenly he looked at his house. There was his wife, the only partner in his life was watching him with great surprise enveloping her. It was a strange behavior, it was really, really strange. "Why?" she queried. "What is the matter? Why is Ereye's behavior changing these days? Oh God, What is the matter? "She exclaimed with great

sense of worry.

"Daddy, Daddy, Daddy, What are you doing in the cold?" She called him loudly. Daddy, daddy please come, please come. She shouted and with heavy tears flowing from her eyes like rain drops.

Faintly, he heard her solemn and lovely voice and slowly he raised up his head and wore another face: he burst into laughter and went straight to the porch where his beloved was standing slowly and passionately, he held her and they went inside. Ebiotu had not recovered from her shock. She remained disdained: she could not just understand what was happening. He looked delirious, but then it was not possible for her to conclude that he was going out of his senses. She looked at him much more curiously and remained mute. Then there was a type of unusual, and uneasy calm between them. Who would break the silence? Suddenly Ereyei broke the cold peace. "I am sorry" he apologized "you have not done me anything wrong. I am worried because you look a bit abnormal; it is as if something is wrong with you; it is as if you are gradually losing your senses!! "No, far from it!" Ereyei shouted, his eyes wild opened. "Listen, Ebiotu" why are we alone? I am not just emotional. Something is fundamentally wrong in our marriage. You know it. Is our house not too cold for us? Where is the brightness and joy that is usually found in a modern family? Who is calling you mummy; my daddy? I am not a priest; I am not a eunuch, I am not dead! This is a serious matter. Now come along with me. I am alone: no father, no mother, no sisters, and no brothers: I am just alone, alone and alone, except you. You see I saw a hen - a bedraggled hen that was alone under the indian almond tree there in front of the house porch. Yes I saw a wet hen that could not move. The hen felt lonely; the hen was cold and lonely. I am the hen-the lonely wet hen."

Ebiotu sobbed; fat tears rolled out of her round eyes. She knelt down by the bed side and wept profusely and bitterly. Ereyei could not control his emotions. He gripped her and tears also rolled down from his eyes. Ebiotu gripped him too: here were two inseparable beings together, waiting, Waiting for supernatural intervention in a matter that was far above their understanding. They had gone to many prayer houses, they had consulted even some traditionalists for solution but nothing happened. They were now in a state of despair.

After a deep unusual sleep, Ereyei said: Ebiotu look at the matter closely. I am a man. An Ijaw man, an African, not a white man. I should not be a renegade; I should not. I should wear my real Afričan identify; my real African identify; my African personality. I need it. You see when we go to these western universities to learn all the isms and isms, we tend to forget our roots and then pull down our African identify. Then we try to borrow robes from the white man. After some time we come to understand that we are neither true Africans nor true European. Right now, you and I, are neither, true Africans nor true Europeans. Thus before true Africans, we are fools; and before true Europeans, we are fools.

Listen Ebiotu, a true African does not marry one wife. It is strange; it is abnormal. Ebiotu laughed loudly, and with a broad smile looked at him, with a great surprise. She shook her head, folded her hands, fixed her fat round eyes on him and burst into a river of tears. Darkness enveloped her heart, her being and the idea of leaving this wicked world coiled around her. She felt that life was all vanity and that It would be better for her to quit the stage now. She had acted her own part in the drama of life: it was time for her to quit the stage; it was time for her to say goodbye to her three sisters-Amakebi, Warefini, and Powei, and her mother Akpoabo-ere. Her father, Pakiri died many years ago. As darkness crept into the house because of the approaching night, she felt an intense desire to go to the world beyond, the real world that controlled the physical, the world of her father, Pakiri. She longed for eternal peace, as of the one normally found among the dead.