Wale and the Little Moonlight

CHAPTER SEVEN

The sun had finished warming the sky and was gradually going down. The evening was temperate and perfect for the harvest feast. The chief priest, earlier in the afternoon, had gone with his servants and a few elders to the village square to check and prepare it for the ceremony. The essence of this was to make sure that no spirit was hanging offended in the air ready to wreak havoc on the people, or to be sure that no curse at all was hovering up the square. Fortunately, the cleansing and consecration of the village square was done successfully, and the chief priest had declared the venue fit for the ceremony.

Every household in the village was represented as the people converged on the village square for this colossal event. Singing, shouting, laughing, clapping, dancing and talking were the features of this great gathering. The Oba was seated in his place, in what was the central point. At his right hand was his wife, the queen; at his left were his three beautiful daughters with the oldest one seated closet to him as the prize for valour of the prospective best wrestler of the day; while an entourage of royal guards and maidens surrounded them.

The drummers were all lost in the rhythm of their music as though their spirits had been captured by the enchanting hands of the goddess of wine and music, making them so drunk and happy in the sensation of their own doing. The drumming and singing that they did were in  harmony with the movements of their heads and shoulders. Their chests also danced to this. These men were professional drummers, and their arms never ran weary. With their singings, they chanted the history of Ogunta, narrating the stories and deeds of their forefathers and great heroes in war times and peace times, in conquest and in deeds, in victory and in defeat, in wrestling and in hunting. Their craft brought back memories and some villagers could not hold back their happy tears at the rhythm and rhymes of their history. Only the gods could reward perfectly these custodians of the people’s history. They were great historians who professed the history of their people through their drums and songs. Even the royal family marvelled at their expertise.

“Hmmm…!!!” The Oba would exclaimed each time the drummers mentioned a name and deed that appealed most to him.

The people were also dancing in a free-style manner to the music. Yet they were expecting that very soon the selected maidens would be called up on  to dance in the dancing competition representing their groups. The people did not only do dancing and talking, they shared and ex-changed things among themselves—they shared cooked food, and ex-changed raw food, fruits and vegetables, grains and cereals, among other food items. Cooked foods were never ex-changed, they were only shared. Everybody ate everybody’s food, and to their satisfaction. There was no fear of an evil substance in the foods, neither was there even the thought of it on people’s mind. It was not the way of Ogunta to put an evil substance in their brothers’ or sisters’ foods, not to mention foods eaten in a great ceremony such as the harvest feast. The people, even the gods would never forgive the tenth and tenth generations of such culprit. Hence, such idea was a distant evil, almost non-existent on the minds of the Ogunta people.

The people, before sharing and ex-changing stuff had done the exhibition of the different farm produce that the gods of the land had blessed them with. They presented things such as yam, cassava, coco yam, water yam, plantain, banana, groundnuts, kola nuts, corn, and rice, among other food stuff. Each household after presenting their abundance, offered a good portion at the Oba’s feet as a token of gratitude for his good rulership, an appreciation for representing the gods and their ancestors, a token of their undying allegiance and as a tribute for their citizenship in Ogunta. The beautiful thing in all of this was that no one, no family was under any compulsion to offer a token to the Oba, or even participate in the whole celebration. It was a gesture born out of complete freedom and willingness.

“Now let us all gather again for an all-important moment”, Baba Adebola the ceremony announcer summoned the scattered crowd once again. “Now is the moment for the maidens dancing competition”, he announced.

The crowd screamed, yelled, clapped and jumped at this exciting announcement. It was one of the moments they had all expected in this event. Everybody adjusted and took back their good positions with the postures that would best relax them for the entertainment that was soon to come. The elders were seated at the right hand side of the Oba’s wife—a position that put them closer to the Oba. The women and young men stood while some children sat down in the front and others also preferred standing like the young men and women. And a big circle-like space was created in the middle by this arrangement for the performers to take charge. The crowd would create a space where the dancers and other entertainers would match through.

People’s faces were expectant and anxious as the first group of maidens sang their way through the crowd, onto the centre, and started dancing in unison and great display of movement control. The people resumed their shouting and screaming in cheering the group up.  The maidens danced and danced. The shouting and cheering soon became silenced by the awe of their performance. The smiles on their faces captivated the attention of the spectators. The shaking of their breasts seduced even the scanty materials which held them together by the knot at their back—leaving all the young men agape. The swinging of their waists was done with a gracious ease which made the beads around them move like a natural add-up of their skins. The movement of their feet was so swift that it made them appear as though they were floating on the air. It was splendidly spectacular. It was like the sight of the daughters of the gods afloat in the air, flexing their bodies among men for the sons of men to die in their wishes. And both the gods and men knew the maidens were all virgins for virginity was a maiden’s mark. It was common for a maiden to be called a virgin. Virginity was a common dignity, yet precious—more precious than diamond in its rarity.

Many other groups of maidens had come and performed their charming dances. The winning group was announced by the Adebola and their prize was announced to be a large expanse of one of the Oba’s land cultivated with cassava. The maidens would manage the cassava plantation together and benefit on equal terms, from the proceedings thereof until they were all married when the land would be passed down to the younger generation of dancers of the group. They were also given a live she-goat for each member. Other groups who performed were also given some kind of consolation prizes.

All of this dancing did not attract Wale even for once. He had found a tree where he sat under and kept himself company. Dancing was for the girls. He always believed this. Then Adebola came back to the centre of the gathering and made another announcement. This time, it was for Ogunta to witness their finest wrestlers after many years of their silence.

“Now we will have the strong men of Ogunta wrestle for glory and for the princess”, Adebola declared as a last remark.

Then ten hefty young men with height almost like that of the sons of the gods whose fathers came down to the earth and mingled with daughters of men, paraded onto the centre of the gathering, making stunts with their chest and displaying their muscles, biceps and body contours. These men had always lived among the people. But they were not the regular people of Ogunta seen around on daily basis; they were Ogunta warriors who spent most of their lives in the jungle training and preparing for the emergency of war. Ogunta was blessed with this kind of men. But for a long time they had not engaged in war for Ogunta had experienced a relatively longer period of peace among its neighbouring communities and kingdoms. But these men existed still. The tallest of them all was Akin the rock.

Wale had jumped up from under the tree and ran to see these warriors and strong men of Ogunta, and also to watch their matches. So he ran to the crowd but could still not get a good position for a better view because the gathering had become thicker and unbreakable, especially at this point. He kept on pressing on. Then the fight had just begun; it was Akin and another great warrior known as Femi the iroko.

“Akin…Akin…Akin!!!” The crowd yelled.

This moment, Akin had seized one of Femi’s legs in a tight entanglement, trying to lift it up so he threw him off his footing and unto the ground. But Femi proved a bit too strong and slippery for him as he manoeuvred his way through, stretching the other leg backward with all his strength and then freed himself from Akin’s grip.

“Eyeh!” The crowed exclaimed as Akin released Femi.

“Akin…Akin…Akin!!!” The crowd shouted again.

Akin had held Femi again on that same leg, trying to knock him down so that his back could just touch the ground.

“Yes, Akin…Akin..Akin!!!” The crowed screamed out louder as Akin threw Femi on the ground flat. The crowd went crazy for this victory. It was just the first match and the people had already been thrilled this much. And Wale could not still have a view of this show.

The shouting and excitement of the people made Wale feel that he had missed out on the whole entertainment. And he then made up his mind to push the people and break through to the front. Then a stronger hand pushed him back. Wale fell down for the first time in his life. The young man that pushed him turned back to see who it was that he had pushed down, and saw that it was Wale, he looked away in spite of the fact that it was Wale. He heaved a sigh and continued in what he was watching. Wale sat there on the ground humiliated and shamed, gazing at his offender with fury. No one reprimanded this offender, no one cared about Wale, no one even acted as though they saw anything. Everyone was just engrossed with the wrestling and Akin’s victory.

The mother instinct in Folusho immediately alerted her that something might have gone wrong with Wale, so he squeezed herself out of the crowd to go looking for her son. She was quite surprised to see Wale sitting under the tree all alone in the midst of the yelling and shouting going on, and of course, with the entertainment happening.

“My son, why are you here all alone?” Folusho asked, sensing that Wale was in a huff. “Come with me let us go to my stand so we could watch the wrestling together”.

“No mother, I don’t want to watch it again”, Wale replied letting the mother know that nothing was wrong that he did not just want to watch the wrestling matches anymore.

“But the wrestling has just started. You can’t possibly be this bored. What has happened to you, son?” Folusho queried softly.

“Yeh…Yeh…Akin…Akin…Akin!!!” A scream came out from the crowd again. Akin had just put another wrestler down so quickly for the second time. This one did not give him a hard time like Femi.

“Wale, come let us go! It’s interesting. Akin has defeated another wrestler. Akin seems to be very strong. Come and see him, you will like him”. Folusho persuaded harder.

“I am fine mother. I don’t want to watch”. Wale refused still.

Folusho knew her son; she knew he was of few words, and most of the time adamant on issues of his right. So she left him and only prayed for him in her heart that he would find fun and happiness before the evening ended.

The evening and events were gradually drawing to an end with the last match between Akin and Ayo the mighty. It was a tight fight that dragged on, longer than any other. But there had to be a winner. Ayo still looked fresh and full of strength, but Akin looked fatigued, but very much resilient. He had put eight backs on the ground, and Ayo’s would be the ninth and last for his glory and prize. Yet, it wasn’t easy for him at all to fight this feline-like fellow who was not just fresh but also seemed inexhaustible. The fight appeared so much in favour of Ayo for he had not put any back on the ground, yet his first victory would be a strike of glory. And Akin who had defeated eight strong warriors would be forgotten with his feats should he fail to endure to the end and win his last battle. So was the rule of the wrestling. It seemed a little unfair to Akin, but it was fair, very fair to all, even to Akin because every fighter had the equal chance to start the fight or be the last. And every fighter had the equal chance to knock out a former winner and assumed his position. And the fighter who defeated his first contender and then went on to defeat the subsequent ones was believed to be strong enough to prove himself as a true warrior. This was a real  responsibility, a true test of valour for Akin.

Everyone at this point saw that both men were a true match for each other as they were both becoming too slippery to be thrown to the ground for the gallons of sweat that poured out from their bodies. They had concluded in their minds that only the gods would choose their best wrestler and crown him with the honour.

“Ayo…Ayo…Ayo!!!”  The crowd screamed out as Ayo pulled one of Akin’s leg to himself while trying to get the other one so he could just land his back on the ground.

But Akin was as slippery as a snake and as swift as a cat. So, he twisted himself out of Ayo’s grip, and with an absolute dexterity found his way in between Ayo’s legs and lifted himself up with Ayo being lifted up too. Ayo’s head was upside down with his legs sticking out up to the sky, held firmly by Akin’s arms and with his head in between them. The crowd screamed, yelled, jumped and chanted Akin’s name.

“Akin…Akin…Akin, throw him down!”

The people knew that was the end. Akin knew that was the end. Akin turned and turned many times at the people’s cheering and finally fell backwardly with Ayo so that Ayo’s back touched the ground.

“Yeh…oooh ooohh….ahhh!!!” were the final screaming of the people.

The match had been decided by a clear victory. The gods had favoured Akin. He had just defeated Ayo overwhelmingly like he had done to others.

“Akin…Akin…Akin!” The crowd kept on singing his name.

So it was that evening; Akin had emerged the new champion of Ogunta, the strongest man of the village. And so it was for Wale that he did not watch the wrestling matches; he did not even get to see the face of the strongest wrestler of their village that evening. Wale was becoming bitter over the evening flop for him so his anger began to wield. Now the evening was getting darker, and soon the clouds began to roll. As Wale’s anger kept wielding, the clouds kept rolling and changing. Akin was still there at the centre of the village square enjoying the cheering and praises of the people while waiting for his prize, when it began to drizzle.

“It’s the rain; the rains are coming tonight”. Akin exclaimed.

The people gathered more and more and began to shout: “Akin the warrior, the night rain bringer”.

Wale became more and more furious, and the wind began to blow even stronger. The crowd dispersed. Families located their members and everyone hurried home. Folusho and Kehinde located Wale and they rushed home. Wale was still furious but had to conceal his emotions around his parents. But the drizzling went on, and the people kept singing Akin’s name as the night rain bringer as they dispersed to their various homes.

Later at night it rained heavily. It wasn’t really a season of rains but it rained heavily. Wale was in his chamber feeling humiliated and shamed. He cried for the first time in his life since he out-grew infancy. He almost cried his blood out--but, the drumming of the rains drowned the sound of his cry. The more he cried, the more it rained, and the more the people of Ogunta praised Akin for his evening glory and the night rain. It was like the same heavy rain that fell the night Wale was born. But this time, this night, the people no longer feared that it was the anger of the gods. They believed it was the celebration of the gods for Akin’s victory and glory. “The gods have chosen Akin”, they thought.