Rose of Numen

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by Olatunde, Biola;


  The prince laughed and sat back in the chair. “Looks like you can’t make me out and I want to apologize for starting off with you on the wrong foot.”

  Babatunde gave a faint smile but was on his guard wondering what was coming.

  “Let me tell you a small story,” the prince offered.

  Babatunde inclined his head.

  ~~~

  ”I guess you are wondering what in heaven’s name I am doing here then and why am I bothering with you. I seem to be fighting the battle the wrong way. You see, I am aware that everybody thinks that I was simply rescued by the king when my mother was chased into the palace by a very angry husband intent on murder. My mother did not say a word about the allegations and would have carried it to the grave with her but for a few things. It happened like this.

  “When her husband went on a hunting trip, somebody came in the night to tell her that she was needed in the palace on a matter of grave importance concerning her husband. She rushed to the palace in alarm and was received by the king alone in his private chambers. The king assured her that she need not be afraid. The Ifa priest had explained that she would need to watch over a flame so they could ensure that nothing will harm her husband who had inadvertently wandered into a forbidden forest. Certain concoctions were given to her presumably to ensure that she could stand the rigors of fanning and maintaining the flame.”

  He paused and looked out of the window with unseeing eyes. Prince Adewunmi stood up and put his hands into his pocket. Babatunde saw that the hand was clenched but he said nothing. The prince closed his eyes and continued.

  “To cut a sordid story short, the concoction she was given was drugged and the king came in later and raped her, rubbing some ointment on his person as well as tying palm fronds around his midriff. It was a ritual rape. When he was halfway through my mother came out of the drugged sleep but she could only stare until he finished. The king saw that she was conscious but pretended and said nothing. After, they gave her something to drink and she was warned that if she spoke out of turn, she would run mad.

  “Back home she wept but could not tell anyone. Her husband suddenly had an extended hunting expedition and a month later she knew she was pregnant. That would be a scandal. People would know she had become pregnant while he was away. So she sought audience to see the king and told him what was wrong. She refused to take any concoction he offered and ran back to the farm. However, she had to return to the village when her husband came and he promptly knew that his wife had become pregnant while he was away. He was very angry and the rest is the popular story that she was chased as a flirty woman to the palace. My mother wanted to remain sane to look after her child, so she kept quiet.”

  Babatunde studied him keenly. The prince was calm as he spoke and he now gave Babatunde a smile. “Not the kind of story you are expecting, right?”

  Babatunde’s voice turned low. “My father is in the habit of telling me that all lizards lie on their stomach but you never really know which has a tummy ache.”

  The prince grinned. “I know him, a very quiet dignified man and I suspect you have taken after him in lots of ways. I apologize for that crude offer of fifteen million naira—I didn’t know you very well then. I am contesting the kingship because I hold all of them in contempt.”

  “We say that there is always an antidote for all types of ailments but none has been found yet for vengeance and I hear that your Christian doctrine or teachings says ‘vengeance is mine, I shall repay’, right? I think you should find out the origin of a slap before you raise your hand to return a slap. You are educated and intelligent enough to know that. Ifa wouldn’t condone an injustice.”

  Prince Adewunmi laughed out loud at that observation. He invited Babatunde to look down history. He said the old kingdom was replete with men who have compromised the statements or declarations of the Ifa Oracle and then invited Babatunde to confirm how many people actually believe in the comments of Ifa these days.

  Babatunde smiled and asked why the prince came to him. “You really don’t believe in Ifa, so it is a bit puzzling why you needed to convince me.”

  “I guess I am like most humans. Spiritual issues don’t become important until we are faced with issues that can’t be solved in a mundane way.” He gave Babatunde a grin then stretched out his hand. “Can we be friends? I am not promising not to try to influence you but I will not feel bad if you finally choose a better person. Deal?”

  Babatunde had to laugh. “That is really going to be a relief.” And he accepted the outstretched hand.

  Prince Adewunmi stared into Babatunde’s eyes as he said slowly, “According to my mother, the king told her there was no way he could accept the pregnancy publicly as that would create a scandal and it might cost him his life if the Ifa people knew. Things however took a turn for the worse when my mother’s husband chased her with a cutlass to the king, who made a show of giving my mother refuge.

  “Two things happened thereafter. My supposed father got bitten by a snake in the farm and died within hours, and, my mother lived in the palace under, quote, ‘protection’ which she did not invite or like as the king visited her hut at will, but she was not at liberty to do anything about it. I grew up within palace grounds imagining myself a prince, ridiculed by the other princes because they knew the truth and laughed at the pretensions of the king when he showed me particular favors.”

  Babatunde was contemplative after the prince had left. It was nice to know that the prince had offered to be open-minded about the competition, but he wondered about the money he knew had been given to some of the kingmakers. He also wondered about the stunning story he had just heard.

  He felt sad that poverty was so grinding that men were even ready to offer or receive bribes on issues that had very little to do with the material and physical world.

  He remembered his visit to the other world and the possibilities that were open if all men could see the other worlds that they were connected to. He knew he was just lucky that he had learnt from his earliest memories that not all that looked human here on Earth were restricted to just the physical. He had learnt that he could experience other realms of existence while still being anchored physically on terra firma.

  His phone rang, it was the chief pharmacist.

  ~~~

  Ife was in the village. Yeye looked flustered and Ife teased her over what was making her so flustered and Yeye shook her head, saying she really did not believe Ife when she had said she was coming over to talk to woman at the grove.

  It was a gathering of a mini festival for women of childbearing age that Yeye usually held at certain times of the year.

  Yeye was reminiscing when Ife had accepted to lead the virgin dance insisting she was not interested in it, but had done it nevertheless, and now here was Ife saying she wanted to be part of this festival.

  Ife picked her thoughts and smiled. “You are not going to ask me to wear beads and walk around half naked again are you?”

  “No,” Yeye replied.

  “Good. So what are we expected to do?”

  Ife heard the voice before, then she saw the curtain of lights and a beautiful young woman stepped out carrying flowers, which she placed before Ife and stepped back into the lights again.

  Ife immediately understood what she was to do—she was to talk to the women about the nature beings and the reason they were to take the herbs that will ease their pregnancy.

  “Goats don’t have ante-natal yet they are treated by the beings and have natural birth. How did we lose that?” Ife spoke aloud.

  Yeye stared at her.

  Ife smiled and patted Yeye on the shoulder. “You are not sure if I am normal sometimes, right?”

  Yeye relaxed. “I know you can’t be normal most of the time, Princess. You are cut from a different cloth.”

  Ife was touched and gave Yeye a silent hug.

  “Okay let’s not make heavy weather. I want to talk to the women about the mystery of birth, stuff like that. I will
want you to help me along if I start talking gibberish, okay?”

  “Is there a mystery to birth?” Yeye asked.

  “Whoa! Crikey, you mean I have to start with you?”

  “I have never been a mother, you know, but I love children,” Yeye said very quietly.

  Ife suddenly saw her threads and was amazed at the colors that surrounded her. “I really never looked at you properly, you have so much love and you are lonely. I never thought of that.”

  Yeye moved her eyes away. Ife gently touched Yeye on the shoulder but said nothing.

  Ife suddenly felt selfish, thinking about her problems and not even looking at the silent serving-lady who had never once complained but had always been available for her. She felt some discomfort in her thoughts wondering how she never had given the woman consideration. With that she felt ashamed and silently decided she was going to be more accommodating of the needs of others.

  When the women came to Yeye that afternoon, they were very surprised to find Ife sitting quietly in the corner. Yeye then asked her to speak. They had both decided that Ife was to talk to them as a medical doctor but subtly teach them about higher things.

  The women listened as Ife gave them practical tips, then she switched into a talk about how a being incarnates, the very real role of the woman.

  “It is not about tying pebbles around your waist, but about using your thoughts in asking for a good child to be sent to you. The child that will be sent to you from Olodumare’s house should be a blessing to you. It is when you are quiet in your heart, learn to pray the good prayer, not suspect your mother-in-law or the other wives. Olodumare sees a lot—everything in fact. My mother used to say, when a woman is desperate to have a child, she goes to the Orisa and asks for any child. The Orisa replied that what he has in the fire is the reject that everybody had rejected and the desperate woman says any child is better than no child and the Orisa hands the child over. Years later when the mother is tired of all the evil acts of the child she complains to the Orisa and he defends himself reminding her that she had asked for any child.”

  The women laughed remembering the story and became very relaxed thereafter. Ife spoke to them about the danger of using abuse to scold their children and invited them to share their worries or fears as expectant women.

  It was a very friendly session after that, as the women joined in songs and tentatively asked her questions about babies and general medical issues. Without stress, Ife had her first ante-natal session in her village. It was late afternoon when she left for her work in the state capital. She was happy.

  Chapter Twelve

  Tinu was having lunch with Ife and it looked like it was going to be a fun time. Tinu gave Ife one long look of mischief. “I think you look like an old maid already—your tastes are becoming very staid, my dear.”

  “Hmm, you think you are the original fashion plate now are you?” Ife fired back

  “At least I wear the latest trends.”

  “Yeah, you look like a badly made salad right now.”

  “What?”

  “Keep your voice down, lady, this is a respectable restaurant.”

  “Oh Yeah? I got cold, machine-pounded yam and what was that thing they added and put on as side dish? Proper pounded yam never has a side-dish. This is just pretense at being what we are not.” Tinu pulled a face of disgust.

  Ife laughed. “It is called coleslaw.”

  “Cole what? Try that at home darling and learn what the rest of the house has to say about it. That is meant for goats. Uncooked vegetables is not my idea of a vegetable soup.”

  Ife had to laugh at Tinu’s deliberate exaggerations. A shadow fell across the table and both girls looked up. Tinu gasped in some pleasure but Ife simply smiled. Adejare was looking down at them and he seemed very amused. He gave Ife a friendly grin and pulled out a chair.

  “If I depended on this woman here, she would never invite me for lunch.” He gave Ife a friendly look as he pointed at Tinu. “She said you would not want to see me when I kept pressing she should bring me here to see you, so I simply followed at a discreet distance.”

  Tinu defended herself. “You are not going to listen to him are you? Jare has simply been horrible to me. I expressly told him that you are a very busy person and—”

  “You wanted to steal all the lunch for yourself,” Jare cut in smoothly.

  The friendly bickering would have continued but Ife was laughing and told Adejare that he could go ahead and order lunch. Adejare, or Jare as they all called him, had always been part of the crowd and Ife was pleased to see him. He worked for a bank and was constantly being transferred to one part of the country or another. Like Ife, he was not married yet. Ife noticed that Jare still had an unsettling effect on Tinu. He had been the cause of her restlessness lately. Ife wondered if the pair was having an affair but she only sensed real friendliness from Jare. Her heart felt heavy, because she knew that Tinu had a different feeling for Jare. But what was the use of pining for something you can never have?

  She didn’t know how she could help Tinu. The last time she had tried, Tinu had just broken down in tears. Today, she simply enjoyed the company of the two friends.

  Jare asked after Babatunde, rolling his eyes and making growling noises in his throat. Ife punched him playfully on the arm, warning that Babatunde might just growl back if he was not careful. They all laughed and Jare stood up, tweaked Tinu’s ears, and took his leave. Tinu stared after his retreating form, longing and desire clear in her eyes. Ife reached out a hand and touched Tinu briefly.

  “Does he know about this?” she asked.

  “Would it matter one way or the other if he does?” Tinu replied. Her voice sounded small.

  “How long have you had this?”

  Tinu made a grimace of disgust. “You make it sound like I have some sickness.”

  “I didn’t mean to, I am sorry.”

  “Well Doctor, is this sickness a terminal one or am I likely going to get a cure?”

  Ife was silent for a while. She sighed and looked at her cousin and friend. “Look in the mirror, wake up in the morning and take a hard look at Lucas, his work hardened hands, the way he snores at night and the number of times he worked in the rain. He has never paid you a compliment in flowery words. He has wept when you lost your son, and stayed silent but protective of you. I don’t think he has ever thought there is another woman on the planet. I don’t know if he will ever see any other woman—I once thought he might want a second wife but I know differently now. Then you should think about if you should leave him as you are planning to do. Adejare is a prince. He does not see you as a mate but as a friend. He trusts you, likes you, and would protect you as a friend. He will one day be king and be asked to marry more than one wife if he wants. So my friend, look in the mirror and look into your heart, not into a crush and you will find the prescription of the Light.”

  Tinu gave a long sigh. “It is not a crush, Doctor. They don’t last through cold nights when your husband snores beside you, nor through moonlit nights when you don’t feel like love but more like company and you remember a smile, the tweak or the laugh, when your soul feels parched and you know this thirst is here for the long haul. I looked in the mirror a long time ago, even yesterday, today, this morning and I still saw the skeleton of a dream.”

  The silence yielded only silent tears. Ife did not know what else she could say as she watched her friend and the pain of a love she would not be able to realize.

  Tinu rose and gave a watery smile. “Sometimes there is peace when they choose your partner for you and you are lucky to fall in love with him. For you, it is the luckiest of both, the gods chose him and he fell in love with you. For me it is the exact opposite.”

  Ife stood up and placed a comforting arm around her friend. She did not feel like discussing the issue much further so she led her friend out of the café and into the busy traffic of car horns and individual human tragedies.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The
night was velvety in its smooth darkness, and Babatunde kept slapping away at the myriad of insects and mosquitoes that sang a dirge near his tormented ears. He was having a discussion with his father and both of them were trying not to hurt each other’s feelings. The air was tight in Babatunde’s throat, and with the effort his tight fists were making his hand feel numb.

  He was close to thirty-five, thirty-four and nine months in fact, and the question of his marriage had now come to a head.

  “I have read the Bible and do know that you are not in any way a Joseph. Is there something wrong with you?” his father asked him with an angry bite to his voice.

  Babatunde was also angry because he felt his father was treading on business that was strictly private. However, he also was trying to understand his father’s concern. He smiled at the fear that he may be considered a eunuch since he did not seem particularly interested in any lady. He slowly unclenched his fists and gave himself time for his voice to come under control. He spoke slowly. He told his father that his male equipment worked well but he was not yet ready for marriage and would bring his bride home whenever he felt ready.

  “It is not you that is not ready. The way I heard it, your goddess is not ready and you are forced to wait. She is playing with you for I hear she is dating someone else from another tribe. Your brother told me,” his father snapped.

  Babatunde went still, sighed, stood up and gave his father a level look. “First, I…” He swallowed as sudden misery held him. “Papa, please leave the subject alone. I made a commitment to myself when I fell in love. I committed myself to the woman I love, to wait, serve and protect. Her time will be my time and it will be as Olodumare permits.” His voice cracked and he turned on his heels and went into his room.

  There was pain in his heart and a longing that was so intense he didn’t know how he was going to bear it but he was silent on the bed. He must have dozed off because a persistent knocking on his door brought him sharply awake. He asked who was at the door. It was his mother and she was in tears. Babatunde was mystified and alarmed as he repeatedly asked her to state what the matter was. Long seconds elapsed before she said his father had decided to walk to the grove to have a discussion with the priestess. His father was yet to return to the house and the hunters had sounded the second hour of the new morning.

 

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