A Man of the People by Chinua Achebe Page A

illiterates like Chief Nanga?' The appearance of comparative peace which Max's house presented to me that morning proved quite deceptive. Or perhaps some of Chief Nanga's 'queen bee' characteristics had rubbed off on me and transformed me into an independent little nucleus of activity which I trailed with me into this new place. That first night I not only heard of a new political party about to be born but got myself enrolled as a foundation member. Max and some of his friends having watched with deepening disillusion the use to which our hard-won freedom was being put by corrupt, mediocre politicians had decided to come together and launch the Common People's Convention. There were eight young people in his room that evening. All but one were citizens of our country, mostly professional types. The only lady there was a very beautiful lawyer who, I learnt afterwards, was engaged to Max whom she had first met at the London School of Economics. There was a trade-unionist, a doctor, another lawyer, a teacher and a newspaper columnist. Max introduced me without any previous consultation as a 'trustworthy comrade who had only the other day had his girl-friend snatched from him by a minister who shall remain nameless'. Naturally I did not care for that kind of image or reputation. So I promptly intervened to point out that the woman in question was not strictly speaking my girl-friend but a casual acquaintance whom both Chief Nanga and I knew. 'So it was Chief Nanga, yes?' said the European and everyone burst out laughing. 'Who else could it be?' said one of the others. The white man was apparently from one of the Eastern Bloc countries. He did not neglect to stress to me in an aside that he was there only as a friend of Max's. He told me a lot of things quietly while the others were discussing some obscure details about the launching. I was as much interested in what he said as the way he said it. His English had an exotic quality occasionally---as when he said that it was good to see intellectuals like Max, myself and the rest coming out of their 'tower of elephant tusk' into active politics. And he often punctuated whatever he was saying with 'yes', spoken with the accent of a question. I must say that I was immediately taken with the idea of the Common People's Convention. Apart from everything else it would add a second string to my bow when I came to deal with Nanga. But right now I was anxious not to appear to Max and his friends as the easily impressed type. I suppose I wanted to erase whatever impression was left of Max's unfortunate if unintentional presentation of me as a kind of pitiable jellyfish. So I made what I intended to be a little spirited sceptical speech. 'It is very kind of you gentlemen and lady---I say gentlemen and lady advisedly because this happens to be Africa---it is very kind of you to accept me so readily. I wish to assure you all that your confidence will be fully justified. But without trying to put a cat among your pigeons I must say that I find it somewhat odd that a party calling itself the Common People's Convention should be made up of only professional men and women....' I was interrupted by many voices at once. But the rest gave way to Max. 'That is not entirely accurate, Odili. What you see here is only the vanguard, the planning stage. Once we are ready we shall draw in the worker, the farmer, the blacksmith, the carpenter...' 'And the unemployed, of course,' said the young lady with that confidence of a beautiful woman who has brains as well, which I find a little intimidating. 'And I'd like to take our friend up on a purely historical point. The great revolutions of history were started by intellectuals, not the common people. Karl Marx was not a common man; he wasn't even a Russian.' The trade-unionist applauded the speech by clapping and shouting 'Hear, hear.' The rest made different kinds of appreciative noises. 'Well, well,' I thought and gave up altogether my next idea of asking how