Click here for Episode 2
“Go whip her, right now!” The warrior commanded his second. He gave the commander a look as if to say, “You must be mad! Why can’t you?”
But he dare not utter such word. He was the superior among the three. Over thirty warriors in the kingdom. Ewatomi had sent those with the least magic wealth, as the target was a common villager—now the warrior regarded Abeni as a witch. A very powerful one. The victim was still on the ground, his chest heaving. They both ran to him, calling incantation, touching his head with an antelope horn. Like the after-surge of ocean, the heaving began reducing to gentle waves, to a regular breathing. Abeni was watching in wonder, still cuddling her mother. The neigbours—those who had gathered around on hearing the uproar—stood far behind the warriors, murmuring to each other.
“she must be a witch?” remarked a middle-aged woman.
Somebody shrugged, “Who knows?”
“We never can tell,” said an old man, “it might be a coincidence. Possibly, the warrior is suffering from a certain disease.”
“Good for him. He should have died!” snarled another man, “He’s the same one that nearly beat my son to death.”
This time, the neighborhood had nearly become a market place, murmuring endlessly. The warriors began wondering what to tell Ewatomi. She’d ordered them to beat Abeni to pulp, so she would never near Akanbi again. At last, the warriors could revive their comrade, who was now staggering like a drunkard.
“We are coming back for you!” growled the leading warrior at Abeni. Hardly had they turned around when the crowd scattered, like heap of sand in a tempest.
****
It was a market day, at sunrise. Swarm of maidens, old women, each with a loaded basket on head, men leading goats, chatting and laughing on their way to the marketplace. Abeni and Fadekemi were discussing the incident of three days ago, each with an empty basket held in place beside them. Now pacing beneath a giant orange tree where the commotion of birds seemed to drown the passersby’s. Abeni could feel the breeze, cool and tender like swan feathers against her skin. The sun was a bit shy, almost hiding behind the lavender clouds. Today, people from the eight neigbouring villages would come to buy kernels and other goods. Oloyade was popular for growing excess palm kernels and it was the kernel season. The market was located near the village square. Fadekemi had been away for four days, to pay a visit to a cousin in the neigbouring village. She returned in the previous night. Abeni was telling Fadekemi how the experience had been the most mysterious in her life. She was afraid to sleep during that night, she said—neither did her parents nor her siblings. All were so paranoid. That the warriors might come back. Her father was confused as to why the warriors had come. Much more confused that one was victimized, inexplicably. Thinking aloud, he believed his personal deity, Shango, the god of thunder, must have protected his daughter. He thought they had come to capture Abeni to the palace, but not successful. Not even once did he think of Ewatomi as the masquerade behind the cloak. He thought the warriors were sent by the king. But Abeni knew. She knew it was Ewatomi. But how could she explain to her father, that after all his warnings, Ewatomi had caught her with Akanbi? How could she?
“What could you have done to deserve that? Did you refuse to salute any of the royal folks while passing by?” That was her father’s question.
“What was your response to that?” asked Fadekemi. “What do you expect me to say? I did nothing of such, of course.”
“Anyway, I’m still surprised about the fallen chicken,” she giggled, passing the basket to her right side, “and truly, shango must have protected you. Or what do you think?”
“I think so,” Abeni sighed, adjusting her bracelets, “hmn. You haven’t heard anything.”
“Hehe, I’m all ears.” Both friends began to walk in slower saunter. “Akanbi came to my place on the following morning, “she began, gently, “I never knew he had returned from hunting. That moment, my father was heading for the palace to plead with the king on my behalf, for the incident. I was at the verandah, pounding some kernels in a mortar. When Akanbi was seated, he offered him some bitter kola. He told Akanbi he wouldn’t be able to listen to any matter, that he was on his way to the palace. When Akanbi enquired the reason for that, my father explained how ka’abiyesi had sent his warriors to me and the outcome. Akanbi looked surprised. When he was about to look at me, I took my face away. Then he offered to follow my father to the palace, so they would plead together. Baba, I would like Abeni to come with us, he said. My father was afraid that I would be detained in the palace. I’m assuring you. Abeni would come back home, he added. Eventually, my father agreed...”
“So Akanbi didn’t state his purpose for coming?”
“Oh, be patient. Just hear the rest,” Abeni smiled, “As I was saying, my father agreed. Getting to the palace, we met the royal highness. After we all saluted, it was Akanbi that spoke on our behalf. He narrated all that happened and pleaded with him to condone my misdeed. Ka’abiyesi looked lost, so was my father. My father must be expecting Ka’abiyesi to rebuke me, but he was calm on his throne. They eventually realized it was the princess. So she was summoned to the gathering. You can’t imagine the shock on her face on seeing me, especially with Akanbi and my father. Then she lied against me. She said I didn’t salute her while passing by. She claimed I was a witch, that I must be stoned to death in a market place. For the spell I cast on the warrior....”
"Ehn, ehn, this is not a minor issue,” Fadekemi burst out laughing, clapping hands.
“The chief priest was there,” Abeni continued, “Ka’abiyesi backed his daughter. And to prove the allegation, he ordered the priest to give me a witch-hunting concoction. At last, we returned to the palace. I was declared innocent...”
“So what was her reaction? I mean....Ewatomi,” she almost whispered. “She wouldn’t come out of the inner palace.”
“Good for her. She must be so shameful. I hope Akanbi eventually told your father his reason for coming.”
“Hmmn,” Abeni grunted, smiling, “I know what you’re thinking. He didn’t come to ask for my hand in marriage; although, that was my expectation. He only came to invite my father to play at the Ogun festival, which will be held in three days’ time. He wanted me to be among the dancers. He paid my father in advance. I didn’t have a chance to speak with him. He left us on our way home.”
“I can’t wait to see your performance again.... I wish I could dance like you.”
For a while, they bantered on who or who was a better dancer before jumping to another topic.
****
From the echoes of gunshots. From the beats of gangan and bata drums and the Ogun masquerades in parades, Oloyade was aware of the ongoing festival. Abeni was dressing up. The masquerades must have finished dancing, she thought. Soon, the maidens would get on stage to dance to bata drum. She was familiar with the rites over the past seasons. Every sixth moon the hunters would celebrate Ogun. As the god of iron, Ogun was revered by hunters— for the progress of the hunting occupation and the success of their tools such as gun, cutlass, spear, arrows and bows. Ayandele was already at the occasion with his ensembles. He’d told Abeni to come when the sun had retired to the southern region, at roughly seven feet shadows. It was almost time. The venue was two neighborhoods away. Yewande was standing at the verandah, waiting for her sister. She was a slender girl of eighteen seasons, the baby of the house. She liked following her sister to any occasion, unlike Romoke who was never interested in outings. They’re now on their way, both wearing beaded earrings and crown-like braids. Sheke, sheke, rattled their waist beads with each movement. Abeni was wearing five colourful bracelets, the red in the middle. As they paced further, the drum was growing louder. Turning to the bushy path leading to the next neighborhood, they met six maidens, one helping the other to adjust earrings or wrapper. They seemed to be heading for the festival. Abeni was familiar with them at the stream. One of them, Wuraola, was having grudge against her.
“I hope you’re not blind.” Yewande had asked them to give way only to get that rude response.
Abeni stood aside, gesticulating for Yewande to keep mute.
“Please, can we pass?” Abeni said in a calm voice.
“You can climb our heads over!” Somebody said, then hissed.
“Wait first, what are you talking to?” Wuraola was addressing her friends, turning around, as if searching for something.
“Would you leave the road!” Abeni said, her patience began to melt. She knew they were looking for trouble and she wasn’t ready to start one. Taking another path was no option. It was a long journey and the dance would begin any moment from now. Abeni was looking around if she could manage the tiny space. The bush was too thorny. It would hurt her skin. How ridiculous. She must take this path right now. She eyed her sister.
“Follow me,” Abeni spoke with her eyes.
Other posts
No comments:
Post a Comment