Girls at War by Chinua Achebe Read Free Book Online Page B

this thing,” said her husband on another occasion.
    “Who is Mike?”
    “Mike Ogudu.”
    “Oh, what does he say?”
    “I haven’t read it yet … Oh yes, you can trust Mike to call a spade a spade. See how he begins: ‘Free primary education is tantamount to naked Communism’?That’s not quite true but that’s Mike all over. He thinks someone might come up to nationalize his shipping line. He is so scared of Communism.”
    “But who wants Communism here?”
    “Nobody. That’s what I told him the other evening at the Club. But he is so scared. You know one thing? Too much money is bad-o.”
    The discussion in the Emenike family remained at this intellectual level until one day their “Small Boy,” a very bright lad of twelve helping out the cook and understudying the steward, announced he must go home to see his sick father.
    “How did you know your Father was sick?” asked Madame.
    “My brodder come tell me.”
    “When did your brother come?”
    “Yesterday for evening-time.”
    “Why didn’t you bring him to see me?”
    “I no no say Madame go wan see am.”
    “Why you no talk since yesterday?” asked Mr. Emenike looking up from his newspaper.
    “At first I tink say I no go go home. But today one mind tell me say make you go see-am-o; perhaps e de sick too much. So derefore …”
    “All right. You can go but make sure you are back by tomorrow afternoon otherwise …”
    “I must return back by morning-time sef.”
    He didn’t come back. Mrs. Emenike was particularly angry because of the lies. She didn’t like being outwitted by servants. Look at that little rat imagining himself clever. She should have suspected something from the way he had been carrying on of late. Now he had gone with a full month’s pay which he should lose in lieu of notice. It went to show that kindness to these people did not pay in the least.
    A week later the gardener gave notice. He didn’t try to hide anything. His elder brother had sent him a message to return to their village and register for free education. Mr. Emenike tried to laugh him out of this ridiculous piece of village ignorance.
    “Free primary education is for children. Nobody is going to admit an old man like you. How old are you?”
    “I am fifteen years of old, sir.”
    “You are three,” sneered Mrs. Emenike. “Come and suck breast.”
    “You are not fifteen,” said Mr. Emenike. “You are at least twenty and no headmaster will admit you into a primary school. If you want to go and try, by all means do. But don’t come back here when you’ve gone and failed.”
    “I no go fail, o ga,” said the gardener. “One man for our village wey old pass my fader sef done register everyting finish. He just go for Magistrate Court and pay dem five shilling and dey swear-am for Court juju wey no de kill porson; e no fit kill rat sef.”
    “Well it’s entirely up to you. Your work here has been good but …”
    “Mark, what is all that long talk for? He wants to go, let him go.”
    “Madame, no be say I wan go like dat. But my senior brodder …”
    “We have heard. You can go now.”
    “But I no de go today. I wan give one week notice. And I fit find anoder gardener for Madame.”
    “Don’t worry about notice or gardener. Just go away.”
    “I fit get my pay now or I go come back for afternoontime?”
    “What pay?”
    “Madame, for dis ten days I don work for dis mont.”
    “Don’t annoy me any further. Just go away.”
    But real annoyance was yet to come for Mrs. Emenike. Abigail, the baby-nurse, came up to her two mornings later as she was getting ready for work and dumped the baby in her lap and took off. Abigail of all people! After all she had done for her. Abigail who came to her full of craw-craw, who used rags for sanitary towels, who was so ignorant she gave the baby a full bowl of water to stop it crying and dropped some through its nose. Now Abigail was a lady; she could sew and bake, wear a bra and clean pants, put on