The Weaver clicked her tongue and asked: “Is this another exhortation for migration? You know that we have tried that before and many were lost. There is no way through the corruption surrounding Ife. The outside world does not even know we exist. This issue has been raised before the council and voted down.”
The Chief raised a placatory hand. “This is not the council, woman. I merely informed them of what they must face someday.”
He turned to the children. “Tomorrow is your first day in the house of learning. You will be tested. All who are old enough will begin training on how to use the sacred gifts you are imbued with and how to take on your sacred duty of survival so that someday you may face and take on your destiny. You are no longer children. You will be great men and women of Ife-Iyoku.” He thumped his chest and all the people did the same.
He continued. “With the permission of the Weaver of tales and teacher of the sacred lore of Obatala, we go to offer the beast as sacrifice to Obatala in honour of our sacred charge to survive.”
The Weaver pulled out a clay cup and beckoned to one of the children to come forward. He took the cup from her, drew in his breath and dragged with his fingers as if pulling something, his focus on the cup. There was a rushing sound. He handed the cup to the weaver and resumed his seat. She put the cup to her mouth and took a pull. Water leaked out and ran down her mouth. The Chief looked at the child and nodded in approval. The child beamed with pleasure.
The Weaver set the cup down and explained. “This is our ritual. Talking is thirsty work and Ake here keeps me hydrated. He is a puller and can pull the elements. He helps me with water after our sessions.”
“That is very good, but we will need more than a cup of water to survive,” the Chief muttered.
“I heard that,” the Weaver said.
“Well, the festival awaits.”
“One more thing,” the Weaver said as she manipulated her light weaving gifts in complex patterns. A trail of light followed her fingers. The light glowed brighter until it became a full ball of light. She released it and it shot into the night. It exploded in a brilliant rainbow of colours and illuminated everywhere. The hitherto solemn children jumped up squealing and screaming in joy and wonder, running, laughing and clutching each other. The Chief shook his head in amusement as the four adults went walking after them towards the festival grounds.
The Chief turned to the Weaver and asked, “The substance that Ake pulled couldn’t have conjured palm wine, could it?”
The Weaver sniffed. “You know very well that at his age, the wonder is that he could do anything at all. Besides, from what palm trees could he have pulled the moisture? He could only pull water from the moisture in the environment. It was even a bit salty, and I think there must have been some sweat mixed with it.”
“What a shame,” the Chief said. “If he could conjure palm wine, that would have been something.”
FEELER
Later that night, Morako and Imade lay cuddled up on a mat listening to the drumming and singing from the festival and watching the stars. She ran a teasing finger up his arm, her breath warm against his cheek. He trembled at her touch, as though it drained something from within him.
She whispered in his ear, “Why does a warrior like you tremble at my simple touch?”
“You know that my skill as a feeler makes me more susceptible to your touch. I feel an overwhelming warmth seeping from you whenever you touch me. Yet each time I ask you to be joined to me as a full-grown woman who has passed all the rites of womanhood, you refuse. Why do you keep refusing me?”
“That is not the case, my strong one. Just that I am not sure of joining with you and bringing a child into this uncertain world.”
“But it’s our sacred duty to survive and that involves…”
She lifted her hand and looked at him reproachfully. “Sacred duty, is it? You’re all about duty and nothing more!”
“I desire you, my love. I want more than just fulfilment of duty from you.” She drew closed and nibbled on his ear lobe and clutched him tightly. “Maybe someday when things change, we will get our desire. I assure you that my refusal is not about you but about other things. You are sufficient for me. I can desire nothing more in a mate.”
“I am quite assured of your affections,” he said. “But let us try not to burn down Ife-Iyoku with the fire emanating from your body.”
“But you do like it, don’t you? When I nudge your body and dampen your pain receptors and enhance your immune system. Like this.’ She ran a finger down his belly and drew on her gift, sending a line of energy into him.
“Will you not do that!” he said, but he could not extricate himself from her. The art of healing was an art of bodily control and manipulation and he was powerless to resist her. He watched as she tinkered with him, revelling in the passion coursing through him. When her palm reached down his crotch, he said, “Do not wake the beast, unless you are ready to do battle.”
“The beast was already awake,” she said with a sly smile. “I am merely teasing it. And who said I am not ready for battle?”
She drew his mouth to hers and kissed him. He drew her closer, pulled her wrapper over their heads and shut out the sounds of merriment without, while within they created their own happiness.
OUTREACH
Next morning, Ooni Olori stood in front of the thatched town hall where the children of eligible age waited for their training. The children were seated cross-legged on mats before him, chattering noisily amongst themselves. The Ooni carried a supple cane which he slapped against his palm. The children fell silent and he started to speak to them in a grave voice.
He talked of their sacred duty as men and women of Ife-Iyoku. Men were designated to be hunters as they were naturally stronger and faster, while women were healers and growers and weavers. That was how nature distributed the abilities to them. Both sexes could be equally endowed as climbers, see-ers, feelers, light weavers, and pullers. They would use these abilities in service of all the survivors of Ife. They would be trained by the older and experienced heads in the community and grow their gifts and use them for the collective benefit of all the children of the sky father Olorun and small father Obatala.
“Of course, all your abilities are not for the community,” the Chief continued. “You may use your ability to acquire your own personal possessions. You may exchange what you produce with others who produce other things. You may sell what you produce with your ability and receive cowries in return. But a measure of whatever you make in whatever department you are placed goes into the central silo for the collective use of everyone when the need arises.”
He paused and scanned the children; their unflinching attention was on him. “Perilous times lie ahead in our battle for survival. There will come a time of drought when the rain will resist the call of the pullers. There will come a time when the land will refuse the call of the growers. There will come a time when the hunters will be hard pressed to find meat. What shall we do then?”
He waited, as if for an answer. None came. He continued. “That is why we must contribute to the general silo. Our survival is collective. We must collectively prepare against tomorrow. We must provide for those among us who are too old or sick for the touch of healers to bring reprieve. Survival is the noble task for which all must put their gifts to achieving.”
The Chief motioned to the attendants who were mostly women to administer the Age test. The Age test was administered by having the children put one hand over their heads. The child whose arm could touch his or her ear was qualified. The children who could not do this were adjudged too young and were sent home to continue their baby days with their mothers until they were older.
The children who passed the Age Test were adjudged old enough to proceed to the next stage. Their development would be observed by their teachers and families to see which gifts they had aptitude for. At the end of the one year of teaching, there would be interviews to discern
those whose gifts had not developed or were not obvious. Those whose gifts had sufficiently manifested would be paired with gifted teachers who would help them build their gifts until adjudged ready to pass the rite into full manhood or womanhood. Those who had no gifts or whose gifts fail to manifest would be sent with other adults to learn any general task or skill they had inclination for. In that way, everyone—the gifted and the ungifted—would be useful. They had to survive, by ordinary or extraordinary means. This was the sacred charge of Obatala and it would be carried out till the day of his return to save all Afrika in fulfilment of the prophecy.
The Ooni clapped his staff on his hand and the class dispersed. The ones who passed the Age Test were to assemble the next day in the village’s eastern town hall for the commencement of their classes.
✦✦✦
As he left the town hall, the Ooni walked to a small hut that stood between rows of trees at the outskirt of the village. He took out a key from his wrapper and opened the door to the hut and walked in. He pulled out a beautifully designed foot mat from the floor to uncover a compartment dug into the floor. From this compartment he pulled a plain looking but strong box. He unlocked the box and brought out several items from it. They included what looked like a car battery from the old world, a pair of wires, a transistor radio, satellite phone and two more items. He fiddled with the satellite phone until it came on. He connected other devices to the battery and pressed a button and a voice issued forth.
SEE-ER
Classes and other tasks were over for the day. It was late afternoon, approaching evening, and classes were over for the day. Morako who oversaw one of the classes was just dismissing his students when Imade came to pick him up. He was with a lad who stayed back after the rest had gone.
“I will be taking Ake to see one of the see-ers,” Morako said, nodding towards the lad. “He appears to be a puller and has been developing an unusual amount of aptitude for one so young. I want them to do a reading to see if it is fortunate for Ife-Iyoku.”
“Have you talked to Ooni Olori about it?” Imade asked.
“No, I haven’t. It is my duty as head trainer to determine the aptitude of a pupil under me, not abdicate it to my father. And come to think of, I think I feel a special kinship with this one. I am curious as to what the see-ers will see in his fortune.”
Imade shrugged and bent to interact with the young lad. “How are you Ake?”
“I am fine, aunty Imade,” the young one replied shyly.
“Can you go home to nana while I and uncle Morako get somewhere? We will see you at tomorrow’s class.”
He looked to Morako who was watching with a slight frown on his face. Morako shrugged and nodded. The boy whooped and ran merrily home.
Morako said, “Do you mind telling me what this is about, why you prevented me…”
“Sacred duty,” she cut in with a smile. “I know it is always sacred duty with you. But I want some time with you. I want you to accompany me somewhere.” She was already leading the way and he followed.
“Where to?”
“Across the southern farms and towards the…”
“Shrine of the See-ers?” he interrupted her. She nodded.
“Then why did you…”
“I told you I want some time alone with you.”
He was silent for a few seconds. She sighed and said, “You’re not subtle at all, Morako. I can feel your words dying to be said, so you might as well spill them.”
“Well,” he said slowly and carefully, as if sensing a trap with the invitation to talk and wary to spring it by talking. “Sometimes I feel that you challenge my authority just for the fun of it.”
She raised an eyebrow but did not say anything.
“I see how you enjoy watching my mother challenge my father’s authority.” She tried to look solemn but failed and broke into a grin.
“Yes, I enjoy that. What about it?”
He frowned.
She turned squarely at him. “Have you ever wondered what it feels like to be a woman? For all your gifts as a lero and the most sensitive of men, the plight of womanhood is beyond you. You cannot understand how it feels to be handed tasks and opinions and expected to just follow suit because you are a woman.”
“It is the way of things for men to lead. Only a man can be Ooni or hunter. It is how it has always been.”
“Who made it so?” she queried, then added wistfully as if confessing a secret, “I have sometimes wondered what it would be like to be able to train as a hunter or to have the gift of Ooni, a leader. To do something beyond the roles assigned to me as a woman.”
“Well,” he said indifferently, “the blood of Obatala gives us the gifts suited to our roles. Men are hunters because they possess the strength and speed to guard the boarder from beasts that move in from the corruption. And only he who would be Ooni gets the gift of leader. Women get other gifts and have their place in the sacred order of things. On women’s shoulders lies the most sacred charge of our continuity.”
She sniffed.
He continued, “Truly, survival is our most sacred duty and only women may fully enable us fulfil it.”
“Well, you play your part,” she said wryly. “And you know, it doesn’t always come in that order. Sometimes women get the gifts of men. Rarely perhaps, but it does happen. And men also get the gifts of women, like you for example.” She looked up at him. His face had darkened.
Morako said, “You know that my case is different. I am a man, and the son of the Ooni. Those two things are absent in the case of the women. A man is set in how he sees things. It would be difficult for him to see things differently. Look around you,” he gestured at the surroundings. They were in the Southern farms. Several women were working the soil, tilling and planting and going about other different tasks.
“Without the powers of the growers,” Morako continued, “we wouldn’t have enough food to feed ourselves. So, their work is important enough.”
Imade looked away. “Forgive me, but I don’t find anything extraordinary in the tilling of the soil.”
Morako held her hand and stopped her in mid-motion. “Why do you run away from womanhood so much? I see you with children. You don’t do so badly. You would do quite well with your own.”
She unclasped her hand from his and resumed walking. “I just don’t see myself raising children in Ife-Iyoku as it is. To what end will I raise them? To serve in fixed roles instead of doing what they wanted? To bring the children up to be content to be guards if they were men or breeders if female, for duty’s sake? To bring them up merely to survive? I want more for them.”
She noticed that Morako had stopped walking. He wore a hurt expression. She walked back to him and cupped his face. “I do care for you, but I just can’t accept life the way it is. I want more.”
She took his hand and pulled him gently. “Your father requested a see- er and a babalawo for a reading. There’s a judgement for a matter set for this evening. We best hurry if we must catch up—on our duty.” She said the last phrase with a smile. His mouth quirked too, and he followed.
✦✦✦
Morako and Imade walked to one of the huts to inquire of Omenga the wise. An old woman was lying on a mat in front of the hut and another woman was fanning and tending her. They stopped to inquire what was wrong with the woman and where they could find Omenga. The woman on the mat reared up suddenly, her old wasted hand clawing at the sky. She rasped: “The boy…the one you should have come with… will destroy us all. She…” looking strangely at Imade, “will be the last…the last of us. Obatala will return…”
Her head fell back into the mat and she resumed her former position as if nothing had happened, as if she had not seen them.
Morako was alarmed, but when he looked at Imade, there was only solemnity on her face but no sign of worry over the woman’s words.
Imade said, “I am a healer. Can I help her?”
“No,” said
the woman tending to her. “She is a see-er and is merely facing the affliction of the mind. It comes to all see-ers when they use the sight too much or peer too far into the other side. It is not a thing your healing can touch. She woke a few days ago after a dream and laid her mat here saying she had a message for you. She was greatly distraught at what she saw and kept trying to use the sight to glimpse more. She eventually fell into this state today. But before she did, she said to leave her here till you came, and she would deliver her message when you did.”
Morako shifted uncomfortably. Questions lingered on his lips, but before he could ask them, the woman tending to the sick woman was talking again.
“The House of Omenga is the last house by the road behind the house next to ours. It is just as she said. Before she entered her present state, she told us that you would inquire of Omenga.”
✦✦✦
When they got to the hut of Omenga, he was sitting outside tying a wrapper on his waist, with white chalk drawn round his left eye. Several cowries hung from his hands and neck.
“I have been waiting for you Imade,” the wise one said, looking at her and ignoring him. “You are the last woman.”
Imade was taken aback but said nothing.
Morako sighed, and Omenga looked at him as if seeing him for the first time. “Morako, son of Olori, you were still a boy suckling at the Weaver’s tits when last I saw you. That was long after she gave up her position as my apprentice.”
Morako opened his mouth to ask question, to say something, but Omenga rose to his feet and said, “We best be on our way. The fate of Ife-Iyoku waits to be decided.”
Morako shuffled along.
TRIAL
Imade and Morako stood in the town hall after bringing Omenga before Ooni Olori and the Ogboni, Council of Chiefs. On their way to the town hall, they had recounted what transpired at the abode of the sick old woman and Omenga received it solemnly, promising that he would get to its root after the hearing and judgement. But for now, the Ooni and the Ogboni had an official business at hand: the dispensation of justice.
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