Baby licked her lips, looking pleased.

"Julius!" Olanna said.

Special Julius waved airily. "Never underestimate the power of alcohol."

"Come and sit with me, Baby," Olanna said. Baby's dress was frayed, worn too often. Olanna settled her on her lap and held her close. At least Baby was not coughing so much now; at least Baby was eating.

Odenigbo picked up the radio from underneath the bench. A shrill sound pierced the air, and at first Olanna thought it had come from the radio before she realized it was the air raid alarm. She sat still. Somebody from the house nearby screamed, "Enemy plane!" at the same time as Special Julius shouted, "Take cover!" and leaped across the veranda, overturning the palm wine. Neighbors were running, shouting words that Olanna could not understand because the stubborn searing sound had shrilled its way into her head. She slipped on the wine and fell on her knee. Odenigbo pulled her up before he grabbed Baby and ran. The strafing had started-pellets raining down from above-as Odenigbo held the zinc sheet open while they all crawled down into the bunker. Odenigbo climbed in last. Ugwu was clutching a spoon smeared with soup. Olanna slapped at the crickets; their faintly moist bodies felt slimy against her fingers, and even when they were no longer perched on her, she still slapped her arms and legs. The first explosion sounded distant. Others followed, closer, louder, and the earth shook. Voices around her were shouting, "Lord Jesus! Lord Jesus!" Her bladder felt painfully, solidly full, as though it would burst and release not urine but the garbled prayers she was muttering. A woman was crumpled next to her, holding a child, a little boy younger than Baby. The bunker was dim but Olanna could see crusty-white ringworm marks all over the child's body. Another explosion shook the ground. Then the sounds stopped. The air was so still that, as they climbed out of the bunker, they could hear the caw-caw-caw of some birds far off. Burning smells filled the air.

"Our antiaircraft fire was wonderful! O di egwu!" somebody said.

" Biafra win the war!" Special Julius started the song and soon most of the people on the street had gathered to join in.

Biafra win the war. Armored car, shelling machine, Fighter and bomber, Ha enweghi ike imeri Biafra!

Olanna watched as Odenigbo sang lustily, and she tried to sing too, but the words lay stale on her tongue. There was a sharp pain in her knee; she took Baby's hand and went indoors.

She was giving Baby an evening bath when the siren alarm sounded again and she grabbed Baby naked and ran from the outhouse. Baby nearly slipped from her grasp. The swift roar of planes and the sharp ka-ka-ka of antiaircraft gunfire came from above and from below and from the sides and made her teeth chatter. She slumped in the bunker and ignored the crickets.

"Where is Odenigbo?" she asked, after a while, grabbing Ugwu's arm. "Where is your master?"

"He is here, mah," Ugwu said, looking around.

"Odenigbo!" Olanna called. But he did not answer. She did not remember seeing him come into the bunker. He was still up there somewhere. The explosion that followed shook the inside of her ear loose; she was sure that if she bent her head sideways, something hard-soft like cartilage would fall out. She moved to the entrance of the bunker. Behind her, she heard Ugwu say, "Mah? Mah?" A woman from down the street said, "Come back! Where are you going? Ebe ka I na-eje?" but she ignored them both and scrambled out of the bunker.

The sun's brilliance was startling; it made her feel faint. She ran, her heart hurting her chest, shouting, "Odenigbo! Odenigbo!" until she saw him bent over somebody on the ground. She looked at his bare hairy chest and his new beard and his torn slippers, and suddenly his mortality-their mortality-struck her with a clutch at her throat, a squeeze of alarm. She held him tightly. A house down the road was on fire.

"Nkem, it's okay," Odenigbo said. "A bullet hit him but it looks like a flesh wound." He pushed her away and went back to the man, whose arm he was tying up with his shirt.

In the morning, the sky was like a calm sea. Olanna told Odenigbo that he would not go to the directorate and that she would not teach; they would spend the day in the bunker.

He laughed. "Don't be silly."

"Nobody will send their children to school," she said.

"What will you do then?" His tone was as normal as his snoring throughout the night had been, while she lay awake, sweating, imagining the sound of bombing.

"I don't know."

He kissed her. "Just head for the bunker if the alarm goes off. Nothing will happen. I may be a little late if we go educating in Mbaise today."

At first she was annoyed by his casualness and then she felt comforted by it. She believed his words, but only for as long as he was there. After he left, she felt vulnerable, exposed. She did not take a bath. She was afraid to go outside to the pit latrine. She was afraid to sit down because she might doze off and be unprepared when the siren went off. She drank cup after cup of water until her belly swelled up, yet she felt as if all the saliva had been sucked out of her mouth and she was about to choke on clumps of dry air.

"We are going to stay in the bunker today," she told Ugwu.

"The bunker, mah?"

"Yes, the bunker. You heard me."

"But we cannot just stay in the bunker, mah."

"Did I speak with water in my mouth? I said we will stay in the bunker."

Ugwu shrugged. "Yes, mah. Should I bring Baby's food?"

She did not respond. She would slap him if he so much as smiled, because she could see the muted amusement on his face at the thought of taking a dish with Baby's pap and crawling into a damp hole in the ground to spend the day.

"Get Baby ready," she said, and turned the radio on.

"Yes, mah," Ugwu said. "O nwere igwu. I found lice eggs in her hair this morning."

"What?"

"Lice eggs. But there were only two and I did not find any others."

"Lice? What are you saying? How can Baby have lice? I keep her clean. Baby! Baby!"

Olanna pulled Baby forward and began to loosen her braids and search through her thick hair. "It must be those dirty neighbors you play with, those dirty neighbors." Her hands were shaking and she yanked at a tuft of hair to maintain her grip. Baby began to cry.

"Stay still!" Olanna said.

Baby wriggled free, ran to Ugwu, and stood there looking at Olanna with baffled eyes as if she no longer recognized her. From the radio, the Biafran national anthem burst out and filled the silence.

Land of the rising sun, we love and cherish, Beloved homeland of our brave heroes; We must defend our lives or we shall perish. We shall protect our hearts from all our foes; But if the price is death for all we hold dear, Then let us die without a shred of fear…

They listened until it ended.

"Take her outside and stay in the veranda and be on the alert," Olanna said finally, wearily, to Ugwu.

"We are not staying in the bunker again?"

"Just take her outside to the veranda."

"Yes, mah."

Olanna tuned the radio; it was too early for the war broadcasts, for the fire-filled monologues on Biafra 's greatness that she desperately needed to hear. On BBC, there was a news update on the war- emissaries from the pope, from the Organization of African Unity, from the Commonwealth, were coming to Nigeria to propose peace. She listened listlessly and turned it off when she heard Ugwu talking to somebody. She went outside to see who it was. Mrs. Muokelu was standing behind Baby, rebraiding the braids Olanna had loosed. The hair on her arms shone glossily, as if she had used too much palm kernel oil.

"You did not go to school as well?" Olanna asked.