EMBED for wordpress. Want more? Advanced embedding details, examples, and help! Free with Audible Trial. This Author: Chinua Achebe. This Narrator: Peter Jay Fernandez. This Publisher: Recorded Books. Download Hi Res. LitFlash The eBooks you want at the lowest prices. Read it Forward Read it first. Pass it on! He said that the Miscreant Gang had been caught 'red-handed in their nefarious plot to overthrow the Government of the people by the people and for the people with the help of enemies abroad'.
This interruption was so loud and clear that it appeared later under his own name in the Hansard. Throughout the session he led the pack of back-bench hounds straining their leash to get at their victims. If any one had cared to sum up Mr Nanga's interruptions they would have made a good hour's continuous yelp. Perspiration poured down his face as he sprang up to interrupt or sat back to share in the derisive laughter of the hungry hyena.
When the Prime Minister said that he had been stabbed in the back by the very ingrates he had pulled out of oblivion some members were in tears.
This too was entered in the Hansard, a copy of which I have before me. It is impossible, however, to convey in cold print the electric atmosphere of that day. I cannot now recall exactly what my feelings were at that point. I suppose I thought the whole performance rather peculiar. You must remember that at that point no one had any reason to think there might be another side to the story. The Prime Minister was still talking.
Then he made the now famous or infamous solemn declaration: 'From today we must watch and guard our hard-won freedom jealously. Never again must we entrust our destiny and the destiny of Africa to the hybrid class of Westerneducated and snobbish intellectuals who will not hesitate to sell their mothers for a mess of pottage I remember the figure of Dr Makinde the ex-Minister of Finance as he got up to speaktall, calm, sorrowful and superior.
I strained my ears to catch his words. The entire house, including the Prime Minister tried to shout him down. It was a most unedifying spectacle. The Speaker broke his mallet ostensibly trying to maintain order, but you could see he was enjoying the commotion.
The public gallery yelled down its abuses. This last was contributed from the gallery by the editor of the Daily Chronicle, who sat close to me. The spelling is his. Although Dr Makinde read his speech, which was clearly prepared, the Hansard later carried a garbled version which made no sense at all. It said not a word about the plan to mint fifteen million poundswhich was perhaps to be expectedbut why put into Dr Makinde's mouth words that he could not have spoken?
In short the Hansard boys wrote a completely new speech suitable to the boastful villain the ex-minister had become. For instance they made him say he was 'a brilliant economist whose reputation was universally acclaimed in Europe'. When I read this I was in tearsand I don't cry all that easily.
The reason I have gone into that shameful episode in such detail is to establish the fact that I had no reason to be enthusiastic about Chief the Honourable M. Nanga who, seeing the empty ministerial seats, had yapped and snarled so shamelessly for the meaty prize. The Proprietor and Principal of the school was a thin, wiry fellow called Jonathan Nwege. He was very active in politics at the local council level and was always grumbling because his services to the P.
But though disgruntled he had not despaired, as witness his elaborate arrangements for the present reception. Perhaps he was hoping for something in the proposed new corporation which would take over the disposal of all government unserviceable property like old mattresses, chairs, electric fans, disused typewriters and other junk which at present was auctioned by civil servants. I hope he gets appointed.
It would have the merit of removing him from the school now and again. He insisted that the students should mount a guard of honour stretching from the main road to the school door. And the teachers too were to stand in a line at the end of the student queue, to be introduced. Mr Nwege who regularly read such literature as 'ToastsHow to Propose Them' was very meticulous about this kind of thing. I had objected vehemently to this standing like school children at our staff meeting, thinking to rouse the other teachers.
But the teachers in that school were all dead from the neck up. My friend and colleague Andrew Kadibe found it impossible to side with me because he and the Minister came from the same village. Primitive loyalty, I call it. As soon as the Minister's Cadillac arrived at the head of a long motorcade the hunters dashed this way and that and let off their last shots, throwing their guns about with frightening freedom.
The dancers capered and stamped, filling the dry-season air with dust. Not even Grammar- phone's voice could now be heard over the tumult. The Minister stepped out wearing damask and gold chains and acknowledging cheers with his ever-present fan of animal skin which they said fanned away all evil designs and shafts of malevolence thrown at him by the wicked.
The man was still as handsome and youthful-looking as everthere was no doubt about that. The Proprietor was now introducing him to the teachers beginning with the Senior Tutor at the head of the line. Although I had not had time to scrutinize the Senior Tutor's person I had no doubt he had traces of snuff as usual in his nostrils.
The Minister had a jovial word for everyone. You could never thinklooking at him nowthat his smile was anything but genuine. Now it was my turn. I held out my hand somewhat stiffly. I did not have the slightest fear that he might remember me and had no intention of reminding him. Our hands met. I looked him straight in the face. The smile slowly creased up into lines of thought. He waved his left hand impatiently to silence the loquacious Proprietor who had begun the parrot formula he had repeated at least fifteen times so far: 'I have the honour, sir, to introduce He turned slightly to the Proprietor and announced proudly: 'I taught him in If he had just found his long- lost son he could not have been more excited.
I use to tell the other boys in my class that Odili will one day be a great man and they will be answering him sir, sir. Why did you not tell me when you left the University?
That's very bad of you, you know. Don't you know that minister means servant? Busy or no busy he must see his master. He slapped me again on the back and said I must not fail to see him at the end of the reception. I was dazed. Everything around me became suddenly unreal; the voices receded to a vague border zone. I knew I ought to be angry with myself but I wasn't. I found myself wondering whetherperhapsI had been applying to politics stringent standards that didn't belong to it.
Sometimes I use to regret ever leaving the teaching field. That day it was perfect. I don't know how it happened, but I can recall every word the Minister said on that occasion. I can repeat the entire speech he made later. Teaching is a very noble profession. The man's assurance was simply unbelievable. Only he could make such a risky jokeor whatever he thought he was makingat.
When the laughter died down, he put on a more serious face and confided to us: 'You can rest assured that those of us in the Cabinet who were once teachers are in full sympathy with you. I like to think that I meant it to be sarcastic. The man's charism had to be felt to be believed. If I were superstitious I would say he had made a really potent charm of the variety called 'sweet face'. Changing the subject slightly, the Minister said, 'Only teachers can make this excellent arrangement.
This time I clearly meant my tongue to be in my cheek. Then he turned to the Minister in an effort to pin-point responsibility for the big crowds. The crowd raised a deafening shout of welcome. He waved his fan to the different parts of the hall. Then he turned to Mr Nwege and said: 'Thank you very much, thank you, sir.
How many minister fit hanswer sir to any Tom, Dick and Harry wey senior them for age? I hask you how many? No doubt it was a measure of my changedor shall we say changing? Other ministers and other people may do otherwise but my motto is: Do the right and shame the Devil.
For what is modesty but inverted pride? We all think we are first-class people. Modesty forbids us from saying so ourselves though, presumably, not from wanting to hear it from others. Perhaps it was their impatience with this kind of hypocrisy that made men like Nanga successful politicians while starry-eyed idealists strove vaingloriously to bring into politics niceties and delicate refinements that belonged elsewhere.
While I thought about all thisperhaps not in these exact termsthe fulsome praises flowed all around the dais. Mr Nwege took the opportunity to mount his old hobbyhorse. The Minister's excellent behaviour, he said, was due to the sound education he had received when education was education.
Who dash frog coat? You mean it is equal to B. My eyes met hers and she quickly turned round again. I think the Minister noticed it. By the way, Odili, I think you are wasting your talent here.
I want you to come to the capital and take up a strategic post in the civil service. My secretary is from there; our people must press for their fair share of the national cake.
That was when my friend Andrew Kadibe committed the unpardonable indiscretion of calling the Minister the nickname he had worn as a teacher: 'M. Minus Opportunity. The look he gave Andrew then reminded me of that other Nanga who had led the pack of hounds four years ago.
Although Mr Nwege had begun by saying that the distinguished guest needed no introduction he had gone on all the same to talk for well over twenty minuteslargely in praise of himself and all he had done for the Party in Anata 'and environs'. The crowd became steadily more restive especially when they noticed that the Minister was looking at his watch. Loud grumbles began to reach the dais from the audience.
Then clear voices telling Nwege to sit down and let the man they came to hear talk. Nwege ignored all these warning signsa more insensitive man you never saw. Finally one of the tough young men of the village stood up ten feet or so away and shouted: 'It is enough or I shall push you down and take three pence.
The laughter that went up must have been heard a mile away. Mr Nwege's concluding remarks were completely lost. In fact, it was not until the Minister rose to his feet that the laughter stopped. The story had it that many years ago when Mr Nwege was a poor, hungry elementary school teacherthat is before he built his own grammar school and became rich but apparently still hungry he had an old rickety bicycle of the kind the villagers gave the onomatopoeic name of anikilija.
Needless to say the brakes were very faulty. One day as he was cascading down a steep slope that led to a narrow bridge at the bottom of the hill he saw a lorryan unusual phenomenon in those dayscoming down the opposite slope.
It looked like a head-on meeting on the bridge. In his extremity Mr Nwege had raised his voice and cried to passing pedestrians: 'In the name of God push me down! The Minister's speech sounded spontaneous and was most effective. There was no election at hand, he said, amid laughter. He had not come to beg for their votes; it was just 'a family reunionpure and simple'. He would have preferred not to speak to his own kinsmen in English which was after all a foreign language, but he had learnt from experience that speeches made in vernacular were liable to be distorted and misquoted in the press.
Also there were some strangers in that audience who did not speak our own tongue and he did not wish to exclude them. They were all citizens of our great country whether they came from the highlands or the lowlands, etc. The stranger he had in mind I think was Mrs Eleanor John, an influential party woman from the coast who had come in the Minister's party.
She was heavily painted and perfumed and although no longer young seemed more than able to hold her own, if it came to that. She sat on the Minister's left, smoking and fanning herself. Next to her sat the beautiful young girl I have talked about.
I didn't catch the two of them exchanging any words or even looks. I wondered what such a girl was doing in that tough crowd; it looked as though they had stopped by some convent on their way and offered to give her a lift to the next one. At the end of his speech the Minister and his party were invited to the Proprietor's Lodgeas Mr Nwege called his square, cement-block house.
Outside, the dancers had all come alive again and the hunterstheir last powder gonewere tamely waiting for the promised palm-wine. The Minister danced a few dignified steps to the music of each group and stuck red pound notes on the perspiring faces of the best dancers. To one group alone he gave away five pounds.
The same man who had drawn our attention to the Minister's humility was now pointing out yet another quality. I looked at him closely for the first time and noticed that he had one bad eyewhat we call a cowrie- shell eye. Na so so troway. You never see some thing, my brother. I no de keep anini for myself, na so so troway. If some person come to you and say "I wan' make you Minister" make you run like blazes comot.
Na true word I tell you. To God who made me. Believe me yours sincerely. It was left to Josiah, owner of a nearby shop-and-bar to sound a discordant, if jovial, note. Make you put Minister money for my hand and all the wahala on top. I no mind at all. Then Mrs John said: 'No be so, my frien'.
When you done experience rich man's trouble you no fit talk like that again. My people get one proverb: they say that when poor man done see with him own eye how to make big man e go beg make e carry him poverty de go je-je.
I knew of her from the newspapers; she was a member of the Library Commission, one of the statutory boards within the Minister's portfolio. Her massive coral beads were worth hundreds of pounds according to the whisper circulating in the room while she talked. She was the 'merchant princess' par excellence. Poor beginningan orphan, I believeno school education, plenty of good looks and an iron determination, both of which she put to good account; beginning as a street hawker, rising to a small trader, and then to a big one.
At present, they said, she presided over the entire trade in imported second-hand clothing worth hundreds of thousands. I edged quietly towards the journalist who seemed to know everyone in the party and whispered in his ear: 'Who is the young lady? My hand no de for inside. So I think say na im girl-friend, or im cousin. I no go tell you lie girls for this una part sabi fine-o. God Almighty! I know it sounds silly, but I began to wonder what had happened to the Mrs Nanga of the scoutmastering days.
They were newly married then. I remembered her particularly because she was one of the very first women I knew to wear a white, ladies' helmet which in our ignorance we called helment and which was in those days the very acme of sophistication. Le Guin, see A Man of the People short story. Nigeria portal s portal Novels portal. August 19, Retrieved African Affairs. Chinua Achebe: A Biography. Be the first one to write a review.
Books for People with Print Disabilities. Internet Archive Books.By the renowned author of Things Fall Apartthis novel foreshadows the Nigerian coups of and shows the color and vivacity as well immediately afterlife full movie online free the violence and corruption of a society making its own way between the two worlds. A man of the people free download chinua achebe a work that foreshadowed the Nigerian coup, schoolteacher Odili feuds with his former mentor, now a corrupt frde minister. When the two vie viciously for the same seat in an election, their fury leads to revolution. Follow Us On. Search Go Advanced Search. Buy from a third party:. Audio Download. Free with Audible Trial. This Author: Chinua Achebe. A man of the people free download chinua achebe Narrator: Peter Jay Fernandez. This Publisher: Recorded Books. A Man of the People by Lf Achebe. Chinua Achebe. Peter Jay Fernandez. Recorded Books. Running Time. Unknown Words Podcast by Matthew Anderson. Sylvia Plath Reads by Sylvia Plath. Reading and Writing Podcast by Jeff Rutherford. Review this title. Available On. Audio Books. Free Stuff. A Man of the People. Download with Facebook Chinua Achebe A Man of the People First published in For Chris CHAPTER ONE No one can a smart civil service job in the city with car, free housing, etc., was to give myself a certain amount of autonomy. A Man of the People - Kindle edition by Achebe, Chinua. Download it once and read it on your Kindle device, PC, phones or tablets. Use features like bookmarks. Access-restricted-item: true. Addeddate: Bookplateleaf: Boxid: IA Camera: Canon EOS 5D Mark II. Bibliography: p. xiv-xvii. Notes. no toc. Access-restricted-item: true. Addeddate: Boxid: IA Camera: Canon 5D. By the renowned author of Things Fall Apart, this novel foreshadows the Nigerian coups of and shows the color and vivacity as well as the violence and. From the renowned author of The African Trilogy, a political satire about an unnamed African country navigating a path between violence and corruption. Request PDF | Chinua Achebe's A Man of the People: the Novel and the Public Sphere | As Chinua Achebe's most contemporary and most sharply political. Download full-text PDF Chinua Achebe's A Man of the People () is a political critique of the After Nanga's arrest, Odili is free to. A Man of the People () is a novel by Nigerian writer Chinua Achebe. Written as a satirical piece, A Man of the People follows a story told by Odili, a young. chinua achebe pdf books. On the contrary I felt he positively wanted me to stay. Original Title. When dinner was over the American negro offered to drop me off and save Jean the trouble but she wouldn't hear of it, much to my relief I must say. The crunching of his tyres on the loose gravel drive had woken me up in the night and I had looked at my diamond-faced watch which I often forgot to take off even for my bath. Upon reading an advance copy of the novel, Achebe's friend, Nigerian poet and playwright John Pepper Clark declared: "Chinua, I know you are a prophet. The idea was to sound like a girl and so send the other's blood pressure up. And he had only come home at two last night, or rather this morning! Want to Read saving…. No, it wasn't her at all. If it was in his constituency he would not listen to experts. But on seeing her now it all came back again. Odili's home village loses their pipes for supporting him. It was apparently from one of them the cook had bought the coffee that had nearly cost him his life. The funny part of it was that my next-door neighbouran English Honours student and easily the most ruthless and unprincipled womanizer in the entire university campuschanged to calling me Ralph from that day.