Dead Men's Path

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Dead Men's Path

Chinua Achebe
Michael Obi's hopes were fulfilled much earlier than he had expected. He was appointed
headmaster of Ndume Central School in January 1949. It had always been an unprogressive school, so
the Mission authorities decided to send a young and energetic man to run it. Obi accepted this
responsibility with enthusiasm. He had many wonderful ideas and this was an opportunity to put them
into practice. He had had sound secondary school education which designated him a "pivotal teacher"
in the official records and set him apart from the other headmasters in the mission field. He was
outspoken in his condemnation of the narrow views of these older and often less-educated ones.
"We shall make a good job of it, shan't we?" he asked his young wife when they first heard the
joyful news of his promotion.
"We shall do our best," she replied. "We shall have such beautiful gardens and everything will
be just modern and delightful. . . ." In their two years of married life she had become completely
infected by his passion for "modern methods" and his denigration of "these old and superannuated
people in the teaching field who would be better employed as traders in the Onitsha1 market." She
began to see herself already as the admired wife of the young headmaster, the queen of the school.
The wives of the other teachers would envy her position. She would set the fashion in every-
thing. . . . Then, suddenly, it occurred to her that there might not be other wives. Wavering between
hope and fear, she asked her husband, looking anxiously at him.
"All our colleagues are young and unmarried," he said with enthusiasm, which for once she did
not share. "Which is a good thing," he continued.
"Why?"
"Why? They will give all their time and energy to the school."
Nancy was downcast. For a few minutes she became skeptical about the new school; but it was
only for a few minutes. Her little personal misfortune could not blind her to her husband's happy
prospects. She looked at him as he sat folded up in a chair. He was stoop-shouldered and looked frail.
But he sometimes surprised people with sudden bursts of physical energy. In his present posture,
however, all his bodily strength seemed to have retired behind his deep-set eyes, giving them an
extraordinary power of penetration. He was only twenty-six, but looked thirty or more. On the whole,
he was not unhandsome.
"A penny for your thoughts, Mike," said Nancy after a while, imitating the woman's magazine
she read.
"I was thinking what a grand opportunity we've got at last to show these people how a school
should be run."
***
Ndume School was backward in every sense of the word. Mr. Obi put his whole life into the
work, and his wife hers too. He had two aims. A high standard of teaching was insisted upon, and the
school compound was to be turned into a place of beauty. Nancy's dream-gardens came to life with the
coming of the rains, and blossomed. Beautiful hibiscus and allamanda hedges in brilliant red and
yellow marked out the carefully tended school com-pound from the rank neighborhood bushes.
One evening as Obi was admiring his work he was scandalized to see an old woman from the
village hobble right across the compound, through a marigold flower-bed and the hedges. On going up
there he found faint signs of an al-most disused path from the village across the school compound to
the bush on the other side.
"It amazes me," said Obi to one of his teachers who had been three years in the school, "that
you people allowed the villagers to make use of this footpath. It is simply incredible." He shook his
head.
"The path," said the teacher apologetically, "appears to be very important to them. Although it
is hardly used, it connects the village shrine with their place of burial."
1
A trade city in SE Nigeria.
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"And what has that got to do with the school?" asked the headmaster.
"Well, I don't know," replied the other with a shrug of the shoulders. "But I remember there was
a big row2 some time ago when we attempted to close it."
"That was some time ago. But it will not be used now," said Obi as he walked away. "What will
the Government Education Officer think of this when he comes to inspect the school next week? The
villagers might, for all I know, decide to use the schoolroom for a pagan ritual during the inspection."
Heavy sticks were planted closely across the path at the two places where it entered and left the
school premises. These were further strengthened with barbed wire.
***
Three days later the village priest of Ani3 called on the headmaster. He was an old man and
walked with a slight stoop. He carried a stout walking-stick which he usually tapped on the floor, by
way of emphasis, each time he made a new point in his argument.
"I have heard," he said after the usual ex change of cordialities, "that our ancestral foot-path has
recently been closed. . . ."
"Yes," replied Mr. Obi. "We cannot allow people to make a highway of our school com-pound."
"Look here, my son," said the priest bringing down his walking-stick, "this path was here be-
fore you were born and before your father was born. The whole life of this village depends on it. Our
dead relatives depart by it and our ancestors visit us by it. But most important, it is the path of children
coming in to be born."
Mr. Obi listened with a satisfied smile on his face.
"The whole purpose of our school," he said finally, "is to eradicate just such beliefs as that.
Dead men do not require footpaths. The whole idea is just fantastic. Our duty is to teach your children
to laugh at such ideas."
"What you say may be true," replied the priest, "but we follow the practices of our fathers. If
you reopen the path we shall have nothing to quarrel about. What I always say is: let the hawk perch
and let the eagle perch." He rose to go.
"I am sorry," said the young headmaster. "But the school compound cannot be a thoroughfare.
It is against our regulations. I would suggest your constructing another path, skirting our premises. We
can even get our boys to help in building it. I don't suppose the ancestors will find the little detour too
burdensome."
"I have no more words to say," said the old priest, already outside.
Two days later a young woman in the village died in childbed. A diviner was immediately
consulted and he prescribed heavy sacrifices to propitiate ancestors insulted by the fence.
Obi woke up next morning among the ruins of his work. The beautiful hedges were torn up not
just near the path but right round the school, the flowers trampled to death and one of the school
buildings pulled down. . . . That day, the white Supervisor came to inspect the school and wrote a nasty
report on the state of the premises but more seriously about the "tribal-war situation developing
between the school and the village, arising in part from the misguided zeal of the new headmaster."
2
A big fight or argumentation.
3
Ani: the goddess of the earth and judge or morality, who also controls the coming and going of the ancestors.

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Dead Men's Path

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