“The level of love that demands that you will wish to serve and help your people. A selfless kind of love that permits no real personal love, but in grace you are permitted to experience something sublime transcending personal desires sometimes. I really don’t have all the facts. I will like to know that somehow, somewhere, there is a human being who feels like I do and would walk the same road with me, with our gaze fixed to the heights of light and service. I am learning too, that personal physical love can be permitted and I am willing to wait as I pray. Love means being natural but society may enforce some rules, you know. Remember I used to tell you that getting married that early was precluding your chance of finding out how strong your heart was to accommodate love,” Ife said sadly, as she patted her friend on the shoulder.
Tinu stood up and went to the window staring out for a few moments and sighed and turned around. “I think I should start making an effort to return home. I am curious about something. Will you marry Babatunde?”
Ife shrugged. “I don’t know, Tinu.”
“But—”
Ife cut in, scowling, “Yeah, I have heard that I am supposed to have chosen him. Have you ever heard of a woman choosing a groom in our village?”
“Only Numen does that, and you are her now,” Tinu stated firmly.
Chapter Six
Babatunde was visiting his father at the village and the early excitement of making him welcome was dying down. He was also attending Tope’s wedding. They sat out in the communal courtyard and his father swatted at the mosquitoes as they talked about happenings in the village. There was a quiet pride on the face of his father and Babatunde felt at peace seeing that peace around his father. His mom fussed over him and made a great effort to ensure he was comfortable. She had swept his room several times and now dropped lemon rinds in a brightly burning charcoal pot. The lemon rinds were expected to ensure he slept free of mosquito bites.
Babatunde had come with his own precautions, though. He brought his mosquito net that had been sprayed and had it over a simple camp bed he had brought as well. He had also made sure that the rooms of his parents had been netted. His father took pride in telling his friends that Babatunde had made sure he did not have malaria again. Most times now when he visited, Babatunde was always gratified to find that his father was not laid low with malaria. Tope had a hut at the back of the family compound so it seemed just right that a bride would share the hut with him. Tope could now be considered as a pretty good cocoa farmer. He had joined the cooperative and got on well with some older farmers. His mother had told him all this with pride in her ‘husband’. She always called him ‘my husband’ in keeping with the tradition that she could not call him by name because he was the son of her senior wife or iyale, as it was referred to by everyone.
Happily for everyone, Babatunde’s father had maintained just the two women as his wives. He was fair-handed and to all intents and purposes the women did not fight each other, so a happy polygamous home had been maintained. Babatunde was never really sure if a man could manage two women emotionally and had shied away from such topics anytime Tope brought it up. He guessed his father had maintained a tight lid on his preferences.
Firewood was being stacked at the entrance of Tope’s hut and tonight he had gone over to visit his prospective in-laws. The bride-to-be had been asked to go over to the grove for her grooming. Beads were being strung and quite a number of goats were tethered to the family gate entrance. A palm wine tapper had been commissioned to get the freshest palm wine for the wedding day, which was two days hence.
Babatunde was deep in thought and did not immediately hear his name being called until his father nudged him to the present. He jerked and looked up to find Prince Adewunmi towering over him. Babatunde frowned and stood up to greet him.
“I came to offer my congratulations on your brother’s wedding, my friend,” he said smoothly.
Babatunde gave the man a cool stare remembering how the last meeting had ended. The man stared back calmly and Babatunde smiled. You are some bastard I see, he thought.
The man stepped back to reveal three hefty young men carrying on their heads big kegs of palm wine. Babatunde saw a deep frown come into the face of his father and that emboldened him as he quietly said he was very grateful for the offer but that since the wedding was two days away, the palm wine would have become too potent for drinking. The prince replied with a laugh that he was well aware of that but the drinks he was bringing now was for the hardworking young men splitting the wood to be used. He laughed as he said that and tried to joke. Babatunde saw a puzzled look come into his father’s eyes and he inclined his head and indicated where the kegs were to be placed.
The young men placed the kegs carefully a little bit away from the front yard, and left. Babatunde invited the prince to take a calabash of cool water in appreciation of his gift. As the prince took the calabash of water he noticed the cowries in the base as well as on the rim and hesitated, staring at Babatunde who looked back at him calmly. There was a tense silence as the prince paused, but nobody said anything. The prince finally drank the water and gave Babatunde’s father a brief nod and walked away.
Babatunde called on his younger brother and asked him to fetch two of his friends to take the kegs of palm wine to the chief priest with the compliments of the prince. There was a mischievous grin on his face as he gave the instructions, warning the boys not to be tempted to drink a calabash from any of the kegs as the chief priest would know.
Babatunde’s father watched the whole procedure silently not saying anything, but his voice was quiet and contemplative after his younger son had left with the kegs with his friends.
“He wants to be king?”
He came to my office and offered me a check for fifteen million if I could influence whatever Ifa says. He said the asking price was ten. I happen to know that the chief has collected his ten million and he has been wondering how much I was given,” Babatunde quietly replied.
His father whistled slowly then gave him a look. “What happened when you rejected the check?”
“He didn’t have to write it, Papa. I offered him the will of the people and asked him to hold it in his hand. He left without touching it,” Babatunde said.
There was silence for a while. When his father spoke again there was some sadness in his voice. “Money has destroyed so many things, Baba. When you were here, we respected people and gave them chieftaincy titles because they had worked for it and earned it for themselves. Money was respected even then, Baba, but it was never worshipped. A man was confident about what he could do with his brains, brawn and initiative. He was expected to be disciplined in his desires, his home and farm. He would be invited to sit amongst elders because he had learned to respect virtues and discipline. That was why we never feared the festival of Opa-oguru. That time, if a man was mentioned in one festival it was remembered for the rest of his days. He could no longer speak in a gathering of elders. He would hardly ever want to lift his voice and some of them voluntarily banished themselves. Now the love of money has gone so badly that even a prince is willing to persuade the gods to twist destiny in his favor.”
Babatunde did not ask his father why he referred to him as ‘Baba’, which meant father. He answered like he was used to that strange reference. “Papa, not all who look human are human beings these days. Values have changed—for some it is higher and for others it is something else. Money in itself is useful; it is a concept in exchange for something. It is the value placed on that concept that has deteriorated. Some values cannot be bought but can be earned but that is a concept also and I guess most of us are yet to come to terms with it.”
His father sighed and stood up, looked at him and gave a smile. “I like the way you handled the whole thing. You know that saying, those who don’t swallow a pestle do not have to stand guard at the devil’s house all night.”
Babatunde laughed. “Papa, I never ever heard it said that way, but I like the way you say it though, quite ric
h.”
“Education is a concept too, my son. You don’t need to sit and stare at one individual, there are several ways but only one way up the palm tree.” His father returned, laughing at his own jokes.
“Papa, you are highly educated and I admire you,” Babatunde said, giving his father the full salute with a full prostration. His father touched him on the shoulder, tried to say something, thought better of it and simply went into his room.
Babatunde sat outside contemplative and closed his eyes.
Chapter Seven
The mountains in the distance looked almost silver and he knew it was getting to the close of business. The conference would start in another hour or so. Babatunde’s horse still felt fresh and he flew along, his helmet wet on his head. He had stopped only once to give his horse water to drink. He did not feel like drinking any water. He knew the rest of his troops would catch up with him but he was in a hurry and needed to get to the foot of the mountain before it got too dark. He was the only one who knew about the cave entrance into the inner recesses of the mountain.
He was returning home after a sojourn in the wilder kingdom south of his own and he wanted to get to the palace in good time. He had a mental picture of the palace with its cool silver surroundings, the running streams that was so clear as to be almost invisible meandered around shrubs and flowers. His men who served and who ensured that things ran smoothly.
As he got to the gates, a warrior detached himself from the body of men moving to receive him and drove up close. It was Ifeolu with his deep blue eyes.
He drew his sword and touched it to his lips, smiled, but did not bow. They were brothers and friends. Ifeolu was the leader of his guard and head of the staff.
“Well met, Ifeolu.” Babatunde smiled.
Ifeolu inclined his head, also smiling. “I hope you had a good ride back.”
“Have I died or something?”
“No the conference summoned you that is all,” Ifeolu assured him, laughter in the eyes that surveyed Babatunde.
“But you could have used one of your usual ways couldn’t you? I am going to have problems placing this properly,” Babatunde said, but his eyes smiled back. He felt invigorated as well.
“There will be no problem. The captain will explain. He says there was an urgent need for all the lions to come so they could enter the next phase of their mission.”
“I see.”
They had gotten to the entrance and both men shrugged off their armor. They donned different kinds of clothing as they climbed the wide imperial steps to a very large hall that appeared to stretch to infinity.
Quiet guardians hurried back and forth making them comfortable as they went to the seats. More men could be seen coming in. Some already were seated and some were being led to their designated positions. It was a long row of aisles, and banks of flowers that shimmered and glowed were arranged in rectangle shaped boxes.
One side of the very long hall seemed to have been painted in living red hues as it ebbed and flowed. It was like a heartbeat as it picked up the thump-thumping of each occupant and played it back in resonance. The effect was that; it felt like one heartbeat of all the men gathered. The windows opened giving way to glowing light and it appeared each man was enveloped in one single light.
There was a throne at the head of the hall and it held a blazing orb of light that ebbed and glowed in the same red color of the walls. Seven steps led to the throne and the last step seemed to recede deep into nothingness. Some men emerged from this receding step. At the top of the stairs was the glowing head of a lion.
A voice suddenly boomed out as music broke forth and everything shimmered. This was Red Island, a place of warriors and knights who wished to serve the Creator. It was three levels up the silver mountain and it served the Lion, so each person carried its symbol. If you looked closely you would see only quiet strong men who moved around with purpose and very little talk. Babatunde felt very much at home though this was his first conscious visit. He felt enthralled and his heart was full.
Somehow, he sensed he had just earned this level and he trembled inwardly in silent joy. He recognized his friend Sasa and acted naturally towards his friend. He tried to pay attention to what the great voice was booming into his being.
“Princes from the land of the Lion, I welcome you to this important conference. It has been given to us to understand that a great time is approaching and we must all stand ready to deliver our mission at the foot of the Lion. We have been prepared for this activity from the birth of time into matter and we must now stand ready to deliver. Some of you have been long asleep and it had taken quite a lot of effort to rouse you from your slumbers. Some princes could not come because they have moved far away from the last receding step to hear us and we hope when you return to your duty posts and you come across them, you will make every effort to awaken them. Look within and see into the material world in which you have gone to collect the staff that allows you to continue your duties. A lot of you have left your staff behind. Some of you have been given the responsibility to stand guard. Failure is not an option.”
Sasa nudged Babatunde and he blinked.
Then Babatunde heard the voice that jerked him back into the present. He trembled from within as he stared into the alarmed eyes of his father. His younger sibling had his mouth open too. He was cold and stiff from sitting very still in one position. His father stared at him wonderingly.
“I have never seen a man sleep with his eyes wide open,” his father said.
Babatunde tried to stand and he groaned with the effort. He felt very heavy and he heard in the back of his mind the quiet voice of Sasa saying that he had returned to his body too abruptly so he should stay perfectly still and allow himself to return into the system of things. Babatunde inwardly nodded as he allowed energy to flow back into his nervous system and he gingerly felt his limbs. To say the experience had stunned him was putting it mildly.
A minute later he sighed and apologized to his father saying he must have dozed off. He brusquely asked his younger brother to drop the mosquito net over his bed and gingerly rose to his feet. He saw the questioning look come into his father’s eyes but he knew he didn’t have an answer, at least not just yet. He quietly apologized for giving his father a fright and begged to be excused so he could go to bed. As he turned, the hunters’ gong was sounded, warning everyone to retire.
On his bed, Babatunde closed his eyes pretending to be sleeping when he heard his door softly open. It was his mother who had come in to check on her son and Babatunde did not feel like answering questions.
The rest of the week passed peacefully as Tope welcomed his bride to his private quarters.
~~~
Babatunde pretended he did not see the silent query in the eyes of his mother and tried to ignore her broad hints about expecting his grandchild soon, but she was persistent.
“Mama, I am not the one who just got a bride, you know.”
“Yes I know, but when are you bringing a bride home?”
Babatunde smiled and gave her a fond embrace. “I have not the slightest idea.”
His father defended him asking his mother to leave him alone, that there were more important assignments than making babies. Mother and son looked at him in total surprise, at the sudden defense. Babatunde thanked his father but wondered why.
Just before he was due to travel back to his station, the medicine men sent for him. They wanted to know if he had received any summons yet to deliberate on the choice of Ifa for the new king. Babatunde was worried when he saw them with smiles wearing expensive local material. He wondered how many of them had sold out to Prince Adewunmi.
He got an answer soon enough that same evening when Prince Adewunmi paid him a visit just before the hunters’ gong was sounded.
Prince Adewunmi had a broad smile and Babatunde was courteous as he invited him to sit. The prince gave the very simply furnished room a cursory look and came straight to the point. He apologized for having being
crude in offering Babatunde money and defended himself by stating that others had not being so squeamish about receiving anything from him. He insisted that he wanted to serve his people and had wanted to show his willingness to help.
Babatunde listened to him and inclined his head after the speech. He smiled. “It is not the offer that is important, but the quiet assumption that we are black from within and so I will simply jump at the offer. I deliberately wanted to learn herbs, in the natural way, and I understand your assumption that I may need money—”
“I offered to help…”
“Why don’t you create a fund or trust then? For every young man in this village who will be willing to step up and remove the mystique of the herbs and make the knowledge open and available.”
The prince gave a long look and asked him if he would be willing to head such a fund.
Babatunde suddenly saw the trick and shrugged. “I think you should offer it to the whole village when you are chosen by Ifa, if Ifa chooses you. There will be no need for tricks, Prince.”
The prince stiffened as he seemed to have picked the censure in Babatunde’s voice but Babatunde gave him a pleasant look and simply kept his smile.
The prince was suddenly abrupt. “You don’t like me much, do you? I think you have chosen someone over me?”
Babatunde sighed. “I am trying very hard not to punch you in the face, Prince. You see I don’t like anyone who tries to muzzle me with anything. I make my own decisions, who I want to like or not. Incidentally, in this situation I am not even allowed to like anyone until Ifa has spoken, then I take the chosen one in and prepare him for his responsibilities. Let us assume I take your money, do I twist the choice to suit you? Okay, I am stupid and greedy enough to do as you wish, I will be the one to suffer the consequences of inflicting you on the village. Have I offended you in any way that you want to darken my threads?”
Rose of Numen Page 5
