Things Fall Apart

by Chinua Achebe

as the saying goes, an old woman is always uneasy when dry bones are mentioned in a proverb.

The story was always told of a wealthy man who set before his guests a mount of foo-foo so high that those who sat on one side could not see what was happening on the other, and it was not until late in the evening that one of them saw for the first time his in-law who had arrived during the course of the meal and had fallen to on the opposite side. It was only then that they exchanged greetings and shook hands over what was left of the food.

He remembered the story she often told of the quarrel between Earth and Sky long ago, and how Sky withheld rain for seven years, until crops withered and the dead could not be buried because the hoes broke on the stony Earth. At last Vulture was sent to plead with Sky, and to soften his heart with a song of the suffering of the sons of men.

‘What did the white man say before they killed him?’ asked Uchendu. ‘He said nothing,’ answered one of Obierika’s companions. ‘He said something, only they did not understand him,’ said Obierika. ‘He seemed to speak through his nose.’

Eneke the bird was asked why he was always on the wing and he replied: “Men have learnt to shoot without missing their mark and I have learnt to fly without perching on a twig.”