Three weeks had passed since Ajanaku left Ilale for the capital, and hadn’t been heard from. Bukunmi knew in her heart that her father was alright, even though news of his assignment did not reach Ilale.
Bukunmi was walking to the stream with her friends and her father’s female slaves. The slaves were carrying their empty water pots ahead of Bukunmi and her friends, while the latter group caught up on the latest gossip as they moved downhill.
“Bukunmi, ask Agbonyin about the strange things happening at the Oya river.” Abeni, the shortest of them all began.
Of the trio, only Abeni sported the beautiful facial tribal marks associated with the ancient people of Ilale. Agbonyin was the tallest of the group, with a light skinned feature, typical of the people closer to the Oya River. Agbonyin came from a family of fishermen, unlike the other inhabitants of the town that made their living from farming, tye and dye, hunting, and cloth weaving.
Bukunmi faced Agbonyin. “What is the news?”
Agbonyin moved her own water pot to the left. Although, she lived at the river bank, she had to come into town to get clean drinking water from the stream, because the water from the Oya River was not good for drinking.
“You know how my father and my brothers have to wait till nightfall to catch the best fishes?”
Bukunmi nodded. “Of course.”
“Well, they said on the furthest part of the river, the Ariwa men keep smuggling covered goods in, including a number of more slaves. Have you not noticed that their numbers keep increasing by the day?” Agbonyin was a good orator, and she had a way of gesticulating that drew one into the sanctuary of her words.
“What do you think the goods might be?” Abeni asked Bukunmi.
Bukunmi was silent for a while and lost in thoughts. “Maybe they are bringing more gifts?”
“Then why do they have to wait till the cover of nightfall before bringing them across the river?” Agbonyin asked.
Bukunmi shook her head. They were silent as they finally got downhill and approached the flowing stream. A few maidens and slaves were chattering with one another on one side of the stream. Some were bathing and making fun of the shape of one another’s body shapes. Some had water pots on their heads, as they made their way uphill. On the furthest end, those washing clothes and those rinsing dye from their newly made clothes were discussing with one another.
Bukunmi and her friends went to the shallow end meant for fetching clean water. “Has your father informed any of the town elders? My father is away, but he left the elders in charge.”
Agbonyin dropped her pot and started untying her wrapper. “That’s the funny thing. They are not worried. They have all been given gifts by the Ariwa men and they see nothing bad in accommodating these strangers.”
Abeni’s wrapper came off her body, revealing a plump body and a strip of lush black hair on her genital. “Maybe they are not so bad. I mean, have you seen those men? They are lanky and attractive.”
Agbonyin scowled, trying to cover her almost bare chest. “That’s all a façade. Look at our young men, a good number of them are starting to copy their ways of praying. They want to abandon our own gods.”
Bukunmi’s wrapper was the last to come off, as the girls rushed into the cool, refreshing water. “I really hope my Father comes soon.”
She wasn’t sure she meant it though. After all, Ajanaku’s presence will put an end to her clandestine nightly meetings with her lover, and she was not ready to let that go yet.
***
It was the fifth week of Ajanaku’s absence when the news came to town. Oba Ajose was dead. With the arrival of the news came Ajanaku and his warriors. Bukunmi was in the town square with her friends when the news came.
A young man, passing through the square had stopped to ask the ayo players and the singing young women if they knew Oba Ajose was dead and if they knew the Kakanfo was back.
Bukunmi did not hear any other thing before she stood up and fled from the square. She had to get home, and she had to know her father was alright. The usual 15 minutes trek from the square to her father’s compound took her no more than ten minutes, seeing as she ran all the way home.
The people sitting in front of their homes as she ran, would later describe her swift gait and long legs as the traits of a gazelle. She was out of breath by the time she got home. True to the young man’s words, her father was home, but he was not alone. He was surrounded by the town’s elders, his warriors, and surprisingly, Shehu Danta and his men. Bukunmi moved closer but did not dare break through the rank of men conversing with Ajanaku.
“Aare, we heard that the king asked you to ransack Ede, the marketing town of our ancestral home.” One of the elders was saying.
Ajanaku seemed to have aged within the five weeks he was away, and there were new wrinkles and lines on his face, in places they weren’t before. “Yes. It was a terrible thing to ask me to do. But I could not refuse. You know I already swore an oath the last time; that I would never refuse the king’s orders again. I had to lay siege to Ede.”
There were collective gasps from the people, Bukunmi inclusive. The only people that seemed indifferent to the news were Shehu Danta and his men. It was a taboo for any son of Oodua to lay siege on any part of their ancestral home, but Oba Ajose had done so through Kakanfo Ajanaku.
“We heard the king opened the calabash, and he died. Is that also true?” The elder asked again.
There were murmurs in the crowd, while Bukunmi noticed Shehu Danta speaking to some of his men. To open a calabash was a term for describing royal suicide. Every reigning king had in their possession, a calabash filled with parrot eggs. A parrot’s eggs are considered sacred and dangerous, and they usually kill anyone that gazes on them. Whenever a king erred, or wanted to avoid being captured in a siege, they would open the calabash and gaze at the parrot eggs. It was instant death for such a king.
“Yes.” Ajanaku responded shortly, looking everyone in the eyes. “When I returned from Ede, I stopped at the capital, and asked the King to Abdicate, or else he would be forced to watch my warriors desecrate his palace, wives, and daughters. I allowed him go into his inner chambers for the calabash.”
The murmuring became louder as everyone suddenly had something to say.
“Silence!” Ajanaku’s voice rang through the crowd, effectively cutting off any complaints or opinions they might have had.
He stood up from his bench, and Bukunmi was finally able to take a good look at her father. It was not every time that Bukunmi got to see her father in his warfare regalia. He was wearing Kembe, while his overlapping buba was filled with charms and small protection gourds. He still had his small musket gun in his hands, complete with his fiery gaze.
“Were you all pleased with the way Ajose was running this Kingdom?” He demanded.
“No!” The onlookers chorused.
“Was he not endangering the citizens and taking their properties and women by force?”
“Yes!”
“Then why are you all angry over his death? Why do you mourn a wicked man? His cousin, Adebo, will take over the throne. Let us hope he will lead us well this time.” Ajanaku concluded.
The men hailed and started chanting Ajanaku’s oriki in a war song she was now very familiar with. With a swift hand movement, Ajanaku silenced the adoring crowd.
He pointed a finger at the solemn looking Ariwa men. “We also owe a huge debt of gratitude to our friend, Shehu Danta.”
People were quiet again, and all eyes were on the modest looking Ariwa leader. “For he gave us fierce warriors from his Ariwa slaves, and they made our march and victory on the capital and Ede possible. You all know we lost a lot of men from previous battles, and our armed forces were not as strong as they used to be.”
People murmured their agreement. “Well, with the help of Shehu Danta, our forces are now stronger than ever. He has promised to provide 500 men from Ariwa, and they will arrive over the river before the next new moon.”
The crowd clapped while a few whistled; joy, and relief written clearly on their faces. Shehu Danta smiled modestly at the praises, before raising his head and looking through the crowd. As if he could sense her, he stared in her direction, his piercing gaze, penetrating her unruffled armor.
Ajanaku raised his hand again, to silence the crowd. “I asked this generous man for a prize, but he said he needed none. All he wanted was to be a part of the Ilale people. To solidify this wish, I have decided to give him my daughter, Olubukunmi, in marriage, and to strengthen our alliance with the Ariwa men of Ilale.”
Though the crowd was hailing, Bukunmi could hear nothing but the roar of screams and painful war chants in her subconscious. She suddenly felt nauseous. Feeling the Ariwa’s gaze on her, Bukunmi fled the scene and ran towards her mother’s room, where she could finally process the news she had just heard, without interruptions.
