Tale of an African Woman

Chapter Twenty Three

129 23 ack in Yakiri, the messenger dispatched to announce the arrival of the Irishman was received to a tumultuous welcome as though he was the white priest himself. The sub-chief, members of the Council of Elders and a strong delegation of old people held the young man down and were bombarding him with questions. “Is it true that he’s as white as a ghost?” Tafon, the young new village head asked. “The ghost is nothing,” he replied. “He’s as white as the ashes on your fire,” he responded as though short of example for a good comparison. “Does he eat?” another voice was eager to know. “From what I observed when we were together, he does everything we do except that his skin is white.” “Is he male or female?” “What sort of a question is that?” the messenger asked. “He’s referred to as a Father and then you ask me whether he’s male or female,” he declared before pausing for a while and after a brief reflection came back to the question. “Your question may not be entirely stupid because when we met him he was wearing a gown like a woman; but I must state that I didn’t see breasts protruding and it was hard to tell whether something was bulging underneath.” “Obviously a gown will conceal any protrusion underneath,” the sub-chief stated with emphasis to the utter amusement of everyone. “So you’re saying that he’s not a man?” “I really think he is, judging from his voice, the roughness of his chin and the hairiness and toughness of his arms. I think the confusion arises mainly from the clothes he’s wearing but maybe in their country men wear women’s gowns,” the messenger declared still perplexed with the priest’s cassock. “Did he laugh while you were there?” B 130 “Is there anyone who laughs better than the priest?” “What was the laughter like?” “White like him.” The questions kept coming in unending waves, some intelligent and others roaringly ridiculous. The man who was still covered with dust and being gnawed by hunger became fed up and began to protest. “I’ve just arrived and I’m hungry and thirsty and instead of giving me food and drinks, you’ve held me down with questions. The priest will soon be here where he may be spending a good part if not all of his life and you can then ask him all the questions you want. I’m tired and I must rest now.” The young man was not a fool. He knew that his popularity would not last forever and that once the priest arrived he would be out of the picture, so he wanted to cash in on his newly found glory. “Get him something to eat and drink but while that’s being done you can at least take a few more questions,” the sub-chief declared when he sensed that the young man was becoming frustrated and moody. “What did the hair on his head look like?” “Like the tail of that horse standing over there,” he said, pointing at the white steed on which he had arrived in the village. “The tail of the horse!” the entire gathering exclaimed simultaneously. “Yes, that horse you see over there,” he said bragging, probably still overwhelmed by the fact that history might record that he was the first man from Yakiri to discover a white man. “And his eyes,” another voice shot out. “Like those of a cat.” “His nose?” the questions kept coming. “Long and pointed like the tip of a knife.” “My mother’s husband!” someone exclaimed. “A knife?” “Yes, a knife with a sharp tip,” the messenger said with emphasis. “Does he breathe?” someone dared ask. “Or he doesn’t,” another voice added. “Well, I saw his chest rising and falling so I’m convinced that he breathes.” 131 “Tell me something son,” the sub-chief said as he drew the young man closer. “Is he married?” “That’s a very intelligent question,” the messenger declared. “How so?” “While we were there it was rumored that he couldn’t marry nor even have a woman,” the messenger replied. “Which means there’s no bearded meat for him,” he announced to the utter amusement of everyone present. “How can a man live without eating bearded meat?” the sub-chief asked...