Chinua Achebe - Chike and the River

The last car to go in had a radio blaring out at full volume. Its owner was not there and so the chauffeur was having fun. He was even offering to take passengers to Lagos at a moderate charge. When this last car had boarded the boat a marine official in a white-and-blue uniform waved the passengers on. Immediately there was a big rush for the deck. Chike was in the forefront of this rush.

The ferry’s engine started. The siren sounded above. Then a bell rang in the engine room. It sounded like a giant bicycle bell. The boat began to move backward. When it was clear of the ground the bell rang again and the engine increased its sound. Then the boat swung round and began its journey to Asaba.

It was all like a dream. Chike wondered whether it was actually happening. So this is me , he thought. Chike Anene, alias Chiks the Boy, of Umuofia, Mbaino District, Onitsha Province, Eastern Nigeria, Nigeria, West Africa, Africa, World , Universe . This was how he wrote his name in his new reader. It was one of the things he had learnt from his friend Samuel, alias S.M.O.G.

During the journey Chike felt as proud as Mungo Park when he finally reached the Niger. Here at last was the great River Niger. Chike stuck out his chest as though he owned the river, and drew a deep breath. The air smelt clean and fresh. He remembered another song he had learnt at Umuofia and began to whistle it:

Row, row, row your boat

Gently down the stream

Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily ,

Life is but a dream .

When he became tired of whistling he began to think of Lagos. He wondered what Carter Bridge looked like. He had heard it described on the radio. He also knew of Tinubu Square, the marina, Tafawa Balewa Square, Bar Beach, Yaba, Apapa, statehouse, and so on. But the place he wanted to see most of all was the City Stadium where all those football matches were played. Chike liked nothing more than a football commentary broadcast by the N.B.C. Whenever there was a match some of the neighbors would come to listen on his uncle’s radio. They all admired the commentator. When he cried, “It’s a goal!” everyone shouted, “It’s a goal!” Some would even jump to their feet and shake hands with their friends. Of course they only did so when their favorite team scored.

At last the ferryboat arrived in Asaba and the passengers rushed out. Chike looked around him. He could not believe his eyes. Was this Asaba about which he had heard so much? There was nothing to see except a few miserable-looking houses. He was really disappointed. He joined the other passengers and climbed the steep ascent to the market. Things brightened up there. But he had expected more. The market could not be compared to the one in Onitsha. There was nothing here like Bright Street where the noise of highlife records drowned the noise of cars. He walked beyond the market with his hands in his pockets, looking this way and that like a European inspector of schools.

From the stories his friends told Chike expected Asaba to be better than any place he had seen. And he expected the Midwestern region to be very different from the East. But now the air felt the same, the soil had the same look, and the people went about their business in the same manner. As Chike went farther inland he saw better houses. But still they were nothing to write home about; they were all inferior to the fine buildings on New Market Road at Onitsha.

Anyhow, Chike was happy about one thing. He could now talk like the rest of his companions.

Evening was setting in. Chike thought he had seen enough of Asaba and must now go back. He felt in his pocket for his sixpence and found it. He turned round and began to walk back to the riverside. The distance seemed to have increased. Chike began to run. But when he got to the bank the boat was gone. He could see it in the distance. It was already halfway to Onitsha. Chike was in a panic. He saw a marine official closing up his office. He ran to him and said with a shaking voice, “Please, sir, I want to return to Onitsha.”

“You want to return to Onitsha?” asked the man, searching his pocket for keys. He sounded helpful and kind. Chike’s hopes returned.

“Yes, sir,” he replied.

“I am sorry but you cannot return to Onitsha today,” said the man. “The last boat has gone. Come back tomorrow morning.”

“But I live in Onitsha,” cried Chike. “I know nobody here.”

“I am sorry,” said the man as he locked the door of his office and walked away.

Chike stood there weeping. Then one man who had been bathing in the river came up with a towel around his waist and said, “To come Asaba no hard but to return.” He looked very dangerous and wicked; Chike became really afraid and decided to go away from the riverside. With his head bowed and tears in his eyes he returned to the Asaba market. There he leaned against one of the old lorries and wept silently. He wished he had obeyed his mother and never gone near the river. Then he remembered another thing his mother always said. She told her children that crying does not solve any problem. So instead of crying Chike began to think and plan.

His first thought was to go to the owner of one of the shops and ask if he could sleep there. But then it occurred to him that the man might be a thief and kidnapper. Finally Chike decided to hide inside one of the old lorries until morning. He inspected them and saw that one was called S.M.O.G. no. 1 . He decided to sleep in it because of its good and friendly name.

Chike did not want to go into the lorry while people were looking. So he decided to walk around until it was quite dark. He saw traders closing their shops and market women packing up their wares to return home. Soon the market was almost empty. Dusk was followed by darkness. Chike went to the back of the lorry and climbed in quietly. At first he lay down on one of the benches. Then he thought it was better to hide under them. So he climbed under the benches and lay on the floor of the lorry. He thought of his mother and sisters quite safe at home and his misery grew. He was hungry and mosquitoes sang in his ear. He did not try to kill them because they were too many and because killing them would make a noise. He coiled himself up with one hand as pillow and the other between his knees. He could not sleep because of fear. Several times he thought he heard footsteps approaching. He prayed and cried quietly in the darkness.

After a long time he fell asleep. But it was not a restful sleep. He was troubled by bad dreams. He dreamt of all kinds of evil men and spirits chasing him and screaming in his ears.

Then in the middle of the night he woke up suddenly. Three men were talking very close to him. His body froze with fear. The men were actually leaning on the lorry. Chike could hear their bodies rubbing against the wood. They spoke in low voices, sometimes in Ibo and sometimes in pidgin English. Chike could hear every word they said.

“He is expecting us when the church bell rings three o’clock,” said one of them.

“Are you quite sure that he is trustworthy?” asked a second man.

“Yes,” said the first man. “I trust him.”