Free A Man of the People by Chinua Achebe Page B

very well advise him coldly to stay behind and read through his speech. But I had a strong suspicion he had forgotten all about it and I felt it was only fair that I should remind him. I considered various approaches and then decided on the one that seemed to me to conceal most satisfactorily the small element of self-interest. 'I wish I could help in any way with checking your speech,' I said. 'But I just cannot read in a moving car.' 'Oh! that speech,' he said wearily. 'I shall finish it in ten minutes; it is not important. If I had known I should have asked my Parliamentary Secretary to go and represent me. Anyhow it's not bad. Talking is now in my blood---from teaching into politics---all na so so talk talk.' Actually I had no serious reason for wanting to go alone. It was true I had formed a pretty clear mental picture of how it was all going to happen, as it were, under my command; but it didn't really matter and certainly wouldn't hurt anyone if it happened differently. For instance, it would have been rather nice sitting between the two girls at the back. Now I would probably sit with the chauffeur. Or better, Elsie and I could sit in front---there was enough space really---and leave the back to the Minister to get acquainted with the other girl. As it happened all my worry was wasted. The other girl---I don't know what I've done with that girl's name---couldn't come with us on account of a sudden illness. I was very disappointed and a little angry even though Elsie had sworn it was a genuine illness. Fortunately Chief Nanga didn't seem to mind at all, which was hardly surprising for a man who had so many women ready to make themselves available. I remember him announcing twice or thrice on our way back, with Elsie sitting between us, that he had an important Cabinet meeting which would probably last all night tomorrow, and that he must try and get some sleep tonight. At first I thought he was just showing off to the girl and then I decided it was his wicked way of saying that the coast was completely clear for us. So in my gratitude I began to tell Elsie how little time he spared for himself and his family. 'If somebody wan make you minister,' said Chief Nanga, coming to my support, 'make you no gree. No be good life.' 'Uneasy lies the head that wears the crown,' said Elsie. 'Na true, my sister,' said the Chief. 'I think I tell you say Chief Nanga de go open book exhibition for six today,' I said. 'Book exhibition?' asked Elsie. 'How they de make that one again?' 'My sister, make you de ask them for me-o. I be think say na me one never hear that kind thing before. But they say me na Minister of Culture and as such I suppose to be there. I no fit say no. Wetin be Minister? No be public football? So instead for me to sidon rest for house like other people I de go knack grammar for this hot afternoon. You done see this kind trouble before?' We all laughed, including the driver whose face I could see in the mirror. We joked and laughed all the way back. In Chief Nanga's company it was impossible not to be merry. We were met outside the exhibition hall by the President of the Writers' Society, a fellow I used to know fairly well at the University. In those days before he became a writer he had seemed reasonably normal to me. But apparently since he published his novel The Song of the Black Bird---he had become quite different. I read an interview he gave to a popular magazine in which it came out that he had become so non-conformist that he now designed his own clothes. Judging by his appearance I should say he also tailored them. He had on a white and blue squarish gown, with a round neck and no buttons, over brown, striped, baggy trousers made from the kind of light linen material we sometimes called Obey the Wind. He also had a long, untidy beard. I had expected that in a country where writers were so few they would all be known personally to the Minister of Culture. But it was clear Chief Nanga hadn't even heard the