Half of a Yellow Sun

Baby was laughing at something Ugwu said; her pure high-pitched laughter made Ola

"Mummy Ola!" Baby called. "Come and see!"

Ola

She watched the outline of the mango trees in the next yard; some of them had fruit drooping down like heavy earrings. The sun was falling. The chickens were clucking and flying up into the kola nut tree, where they would sleep. She could hear some villagers exchanging greetings, in the same loud-voiced way that the women in the sewing group did. She had joined them two weeks ago, in the town hall, sewing singlets and towels for the soldiers. She felt bitter toward them at first, because when she tried to talk about the things she had left behind in Nsukka-her books, her piano, her clothes, her china, her wigs, her Singer sewing machine, the television-they ignored her and started to talk about something else. Now she understood that nobody talked about the things left behind. Instead they talked about the win-the-war effort. A teacher had donated his bicycle to the soldiers, cobblers were making soldiers' boots for free, and farmers were giving away yams. Win the war. It was difficult for Ola

She kicked off her slippers and walked barefoot across the front yard and over to Baby's sand hut. "Very nice, Baby. Maybe it will still be standing tomorrow, if the goats don't come in the yard in the morning. Now, time for a bath."

"No, Mummy Ola!"

"I think Ugwu is going to carry you off right now." Ola

"No!"

Ugwu picked Baby up and ran off toward the house. Baby's slipper fell off and they stopped to pick it up, Baby saying "No!" and laughing at the same time. Ola

She sat down on one of the low wooden chairs that slanted so that she had to recline in them in order to rest her back. They were chairs she saw only in the village, made by village carpenters who set up dusty signs by the corners of the dirt roads, often with carpenter misspelled: capinter, capinta, carpentar. You could not sit up on such chairs; they assumed a life of hard-earned rest, of evenings reclining in fresh air after a day of farmwork. Perhaps they assumed, also, a life of e

It was dark and the bats were flying noisily above when Odenigbo came home. He was always out during the day, attending meeting after meeting, all of them on how Abba would contribute to the win-the-war effort, how Abba would play a major role in establishing the state of Biafra; sometimes she saw men returning from the meetings, holding mock guns carved from wood. She watched Odenigbo walk across the veranda, aggressive confidence in his stride. Her man. Sometimes when she looked at him she felt gripped by proud possession.

"Kedu?" he asked, bending to kiss her lips. He examined her face carefully, as if he had to do so to make sure she was well. He had been doing that since she returned from Kano. He told her often that the experience had changed her and made her so much more inward. He used massacre when he spoke to his friends, but never with her. It was as if what had happened in Kano was a massacre but what she had seen was an experience.

"I'm fine," she said. "Aren't you a little early?"

"We finished early because there's going to be a general meeting in the square tomorrow."

"Why?" Ola

"The elders decided it was time. There are all kinds of silly rumors about Abba evacuating soon. Some ignoramuses even say the federal troops have entered Awka!" Odenigbo laughed and sat down next to Ola

"To the meeting?" She had not even considered it. "I'm not from Abba."

"You could be, if you married me. You should be."

She looked at him. "We are fine as we are."

"We are at war and my mother would have to decide what will be done with my body if anything happened to me. You should decide that."

"Stop it, nothing will happen to you."

"Of course nothing will happen to me. I just want you to marry me. We really should marry. It no longer makes sense. It never made sense."

Ola

"Is that a yes?"

A bat swooped down and Ola

In the morning, she heard the town crier walking past the house, beating a loud ogene. "There will be a meeting of all Abba tomorrow at four p.m. in Amaeze Square!" Gom-gom-gom. "There will be a meeting of all Abba tomorrow at four p.m. in Amaeze Square!" Gom-gom-gom. "Abba has said that every man and every woman must attend!" Gom-gom-gom. "If you do not attend, Abba will fine you!"