Read No Longer at Ease for Free Online Page A

is English.”
    They had mixed grill, which Obi admitted wasn’t too bad. But he was still puzzling in his mind why Joseph had not put him up as he had asked before he left England. Instead, the Umuofia Progressive Union had arranged at their own expense for him to stay at a not particularly good hotel owned by a Nigerian, on the outskirts of Yaba.
    “Did you get my last letter from England?”
    Joseph said yes. As soon as he had got it he had discussed it with the executive of the U.P.U., and it was agreed that he should be put up in proper fashion at a hotel. As if he read Obi’s thoughts, he said: “You know I have only one room.”
    “Nonsense,” said Obi. “I’m moving out of this filthy hotel tomorrow morning and coming into your place.”
    Joseph was amazed, but also very pleased. He tried toraise another objection, but it was clear his heart was not in it.
    “What will the people of other towns say when they hear that a son of Umuofia returned from England and shared a room in Obalende?”
    “Let them say what they like.”
    They ate in silence for a short while and then Obi said: “Our people have a long way to go.” At the same time as he was saying it Joseph was also beginning to say something, but he stopped.
    “Yes, you were saying something.”
    “I said that I believe in destiny.”
    “Do you? Why?”
    “You remember Mr. Anene, our class teacher, used to say that you would go to England. You were so small then with a running nose, and yet at the end of every term you were at the top of the class. You remember we used to call you ‘Dictionary’?”
    Obi was very much embarrassed because Joseph was talking at the top of his voice.
    “As a matter of fact, my nose still runs. They say it’s hay fever.”
    “And then,” said Joseph, “you wrote that letter to Hitler.”
    Obi laughed one of his rare loud laughs. “I wonder what came over me. I still think about it sometimes. What was Hitler to me or I to Hitler? I suppose I felt sorry for him. And I didn’t like going into the bush every day to pick palm-kernels as our ‘Win the War Effort.’ ” He suddenly becameserious. “And when you come to think of it, it was quite immoral of the headmaster to tell little children every morning that for every palm-kernel they picked they were buying a nail for Hitler’s coffin.”
    They went back to the lounge from the dining room. Joseph was about to order more beer, but Obi stoutly refused.
    From where he sat Obi could see cars passing on Broad Street. A long De Soto pulled up exactly at the entrance and a young handsome man walked into the lounge. Everyone turned to look at him and faint sibilant sounds filled the room as each told his neighbor that it was the Minister of State.
    “That’s Hon Sam Okoli,” whispered Joseph. But Obi had suddenly become like one thunderstruck gazing at the De Soto in the half-darkness.
    The Honorable Sam Okoli was one of the most popular politicians in Lagos and in Eastern Nigeria where his constituency was. The newspapers called him the best-dressed gentleman in Lagos and the most eligible bachelor. Although he was definitely over thirty, he always looked like a boy just out of school. He was tall and athletic with a flashing smile for all. He walked across to the bar and paid for a tin of Churchman’s. All the while Obi’s gaze was fixed on the road outside where Clara lounged in the De Soto. He had only caught a lightning glimpse of her. Perhaps it wasn’t her at all. The Minister went back to the car, and as he opened the door the pale interior light again bathed the plush cushions. There was no doubt about it now. It was Clara.
    “What’s the matter?”
    “Nothing. I know that girl, that’s all.”
    “In England?”
    Obi nodded.
    “Good old Sam! He doesn’t spare them.”

C HAPTER F IVE
    Obi’s theory that the public service of Nigeria would remain corrupt until the old Africans at the top were replaced by young men from the universities was