Anthills of the savannah by Chinua Achebe

Author:Chinua Achebe
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Africa, Central -- Fiction
Publisher: Anchor Press
Published: 1988-10-18T16:00:00+00:00

possible and underplayed the shocks. But most masterly of all she got Chris to actively participate in recreating the events.

“Who is that Alhaji fellow, Chairman, I think, of the Kangan/ American Chamber of Commerce?” she asked.

“Oh that one. Alhaji Abdul Mahmoud. Didn’t you know him? I thought you did. You see, that’s the trouble with being such a recluse. If you came out to even one cocktail party a month you would know what was going on . . . Alhaji Mahmoud is himself a bit of a hermit though. He hardly appears anywhere and when he does, hardly says a word. Rumour has it that he has in the last one year knocked all other Kangan millionaires into a cocked hat. Eight ocean liners, they say, two or three private jets; a private jetty (no pun intended). No customs officials go near his jetty and so, say rumour-mongers, he is the prince of smugglers. What else? Fifty odd companies, including a bank. Monopoly of government fertilizer imports. That’s about it. Very quiet, even self-effacing but they say absolutely ruthless. All that may or may not be standard fare for multi-millionaires. What I find worrying and I don’t think I can quite believe it yet is that (voice lowered) he may be fronting you know for . . . your host.”

“No!”

“Don’t quote me. Rumours rumours rumours. I should know though. After all I am the Commissioner for Information, aren’t I? But I’m afraid I have very little information myself . . . Incidentally BB, how can you be so wicked? Imagine confronting me with that embarrassing catalogue of my morning’s activities including the BBC at seven! Absolutely wicked . . . But I suppose it could have been worse. You might have added, for instance, that while the ministry over which I preside dishes out all that flim-flam to the nation on KBC I sneak away every morning when no one is watching to listen to the Voice of the Enemy.”

“That was a good performance of mine, was it?”

“Absolutely flawless. And devastating. I don’t know why you still haven’t written a play. You would knock Ikem into a cocked hat.”

“That would take some doing. But thanks all the same.”

Before he finally left her flat a little after six she had made another passionate plea to get him to agree to patch things up with Ikem.

“What I heard and saw last night frightened me. Ikem was be-

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