Bukunmi shook her head. “Nothing. I was fanning myself because of the heat.” She added a petulant expression to the list of looks crossing her face.
“Sorry we locked you in.” Ariyike sighed, the sign of weariness evident in her voice and posture. “But you know we had to. Who knows where you might have disappeared to if we didn’t so it?”
Bukunmi shrugged and didn’t give a response.
Ariyike signaled for her to stand up. “Come. The guests are about to eat. Your father wants you to pay homage to the chiefs and elders.”
Bukunmi took her time while standing up, much to the annoyance of an impatient Ariyike.
“But mother, who is the stranger?”
“His name is Shehu Danta and he is a merchant and some sort of babalawo of their strange religion. He leads them in their daily prayers.”
Standing up, Bukunmi tightened the aran, a velvet clothing around her waist, meant to give shape to the wrapper around her body and chest. Her mother moved closer to inspect the orderliness of the red beads around her neck, the ones on her waist, and the round ones around her suku hairstyle.
“Will Father give me to him in marriage?” There was worry and underlying tone of fright in her voice.
Ariyike picked up on them and shook her head. “Of course not. That’s a taboo. You’re going to marry a son of Ajeji, and that’s that.”
“He cannot be the son of a nobody, abi?” Bukunmi pressed.
“You are the daughter of Ajanaku, the greatest Aare ona Kakanfo Ajeji and Ilale has ever seen. You’re almost at the same level with the princesses. What makes you think the son of a nobody is worthy of you?”
Bukunmi shook her head and decided not to speak again. Ariyike took her daughter’s arm and started leading her out of the room. “Come, we cannot keep your father waiting.”
Stepping out of the room into the courtyard was bliss. The humid air, though hot, rushed to soothe and dry her sweaty skin. She could hear the musical beats of the mortar and pestle, as they fought to convert yam to iyan. Ariyike led her out of the courtyard, through the main entrance, and out in the open compound.
She could see her father sitting with the visitors on sturdy benches just beneath the fruiting agbalumo tree, laughing as they consumed gourds of palmwine from their respective calabashes.
“Remember not to ever look a man in the face. Don’t give them those fake kneeling you used to do to me. You have to go down completely for them. s’o ti gbo?” Ariyike lowered her voice and warned her daughter.
Bukunmi nodded. “Yes mother. I’m familiar with the rules.”
Ariyike sighed. “Please do not talk back at them. I beg of you.”
Bukunmi nodded. Ariyike, satisfied with Bukunmi’s countenance change, led her to the rowdy men enjoying the flowing palmwine, while the empty plates of kolanuts stared them in the eyes. At the women’s approach, Ajanaku sat up, stretched his arm, urging Bukunmi to come kneel at the crook of his elbow.
She cast her eyes down, swung her hips subtly; like her mother taught, and went on her two knees in front of her father. She was not to speak unless she was spoken to.
“My Lords.” The three chiefs grunted their response. “My elders.” The three elders did the same. “Shehus.” Ajanaku paused, giving Bukunmi the avenue to subtly observe the strangers.
“May I present to you, my only daughter. The most beautiful maiden in Ilale, and my precious one; Olubukunmi.”
Bukunmi turned from her father’s embrace to face the leering old men and their conspicuous salacious gazes. She smiled shyly and looked down. With her side eye, she could see a pile of gift baskets, all stacked on one another. The only visible contents of the gift pile were the clucking chickens and the unusually tall brown goats, all tied to the base of the agabalumo tree.
“Haha, Aare, nobody informed me that you have such a beautiful daughter. Just like her mother.” Bashorun Abiodun, the man next to the king in title, smiled at Bukunmi, without taking his eyes off the young girl.
Ajanaku laughed, though it was devoid of mirth. “Bashorun, I am just a lowly general confined to Ilale. You are the Almighty Bashorun, ruling with the King over all the ten towns of Ajeji. Of course, silly news like this would not have gotten to you. You are far too important.”
The Bashorun looked pleased. Bukunmi snorted silently at how predictable the men were. Deep down, they all knew how powerful Ajanaku was, but her father knew how to play his politics, by massaging the overblown ego of the Bashorun and tyrannical king.
“Ariyike.” Ajanaku called out to his senior wife, from her position beside the pile of gifts. “Please instruct the slaves to come and take these gifts inside. That is a tip of what Shehu Danta has brought from his lands for us.”
“Alright my Lord.” Ariyike began to turn around.
“Also, tell Morenike we are ready to eat.”
Ariyike nodded her assent before hurrying off to fetch the slaves and their food. Bukunmi was directed to take a seat on the empty mat laid beside her Father, where every member of the meeting could gaze at her lovely form. She lowered herself gracefully on the mat, and stretched her legs forward, back ramrod straight, with her folded hands on her laps.
Bukunmi felt someone staring at her, and she raised her head to see the Ariwa man; Shehu Danta, staring at her. The villagers called all the strangers Ariwa men, because they came from the north. When Bukunmi caught his piercing gaze, he smiled at her, and turned to whisper with his counterparts.
The Ariwa men were unusual. Despite the intensity of the heat, their heads were wrapped with thick white clothings, and they had no trousers on; only long, free-flowing garments. Of the three men sitting, two were exceptionally handsome, while Shehu Danta was just a plain looking man.
The slaves brought trays of steaming food; iyan and different soups, with an assortment of fishes, meats, and other edible marine creatures. Bukunmi’s stomach growled in expectation when she perceived the mouth-watering aromas of the dishes being placed in front of the men. She was hungry.
For all his faults, Bukunmi knew Ajanaku was a good father. He proved that when he turned to give her a gentle smile.
“Go and meet your mother. Tell her to give you something to eat.”
Bukunmi did not need to be told twice, before she sprang to her feet and hurried away from the feasting men towards the busy kitchen, while Ajanaku’s amused laughter followed her quick steps.
*******
The night air was cooler, but the humming mosquitoes and the flies attracted to the burning oil lamp detracted from the beauty of the night. Bukunmi sat on a mat alongside her mother on the right side of her father, while Morenike and her twin sons sat on the left. In the middle, Ajanaku sat comfortably on his reclining chair, while a silent slave fanned him from the back.
They had just finished eating dinner, and were listening to their parents chat about the events of the day.
“I will be leaving for the capital tomorrow.” Ajanaku suddenly announced, after the lull in conversation.
Ariyike sat up to look at her husband, but the oil lamp was not bright enough to light his face. “But my Lord, why?”
Bukunmi could not read the expression on her father’s face. “Bashorun said the king summons me. He has a task for me.”
“What if it is another impossible task like the last one?” Morenike asked, her voice shrilly and contrasting with the peaceful night.
Bukunmi knew what the last task was about. The wicked king had asked Ajanaku to lay siege to Iyere, his father’s maternal hometown. Unfortunately, before his death, Oba Dekunle, the current king’s father, had placed a curse on any Kakanfo that would ever attack Iyere. Ajanaku, fearing this curse and the repercussions of breaking the oath he made to Oba Dekunle, declined to go on that mission.
Not surprising, the refusal caused an uproar, as it was unheard of for anyone to refuse a King’s order. It took weeks of negotiations and bribing before the king; Oba Ajose, calmed down and allowed Ajanaku to return home to Ilale.
Ajanaku slapped his arm, probably to kill an offending insect. “I will decline again. I don’t know what is wrong with Oba Ajose, but he’s getting more paranoid and power hungry by the day. He wants to enlarge his kingdom and create an empire that will last for dynasties to come.”
“Father, how long will you be gone for?” One of the twins asked.
“I do not know. It all depends on the kind of assignment the king has for me.”
Bukunmi was glad and sad at the same time. She was used to eating with him, and being fed huge chunks of meat from his portion. He also allowed her take little sips from his gourd of palmwine. Although she was a girl, Ajanaku regaled her with war tales and details of some of the town problems he had to solve. Bukunmi had wit and a brilliant mind, and this was not lost on Ajanaku. On the bright side, Ajanaku’s absence meant that she would be given more freedom than the usual.
“I will miss you Father.” Bukunmi whispered, but Ajanaku heard her.
He placed a hand on her head, scratching the spaces between her neat cornrows. “And I, you, Olubukunmi. What would you like for me to bring you when returning?”
Bukunmi did not miss a heartbeat before responding. “You and your safety. Just come back home to us Father.”
Even through the dark, they could all see the flashing white teeth on Ajanaku’s face as he smiled at his daughter. “No problem. Oya, let’s all go inside and sleep. I have a long journey ahead of me tomorrow.”
