Wale and the Little Moonlight

CHAPTER NINETEEN

It had been a long and lonely journey for him as he walked the partially moonlit night through the narrow path by the dictate of the Moon’s voice. Wale had covered a thousand miles; his sweats were rains, yet his strength was inexhaustible.  In the course of this endless adventure, he was only concerned about the strangeness and familiarity of the land. The land looked so much like Ogunta and its neighbouring kingdoms and villages, at some point, and at another point, it looked something totally different from Oduduwaland.

“Keep moving!” The voice commanded.

“I am moving”. Wale responded.

Wale and the voice had been interacting this way for a while, climbing many hills and crossing many streams; and now this was the point where mountains and rivers were meant to be climbed and crossed. Looking at the first mountain to conquer, Wale wondered if he had done anything wrong to incur the wrath of the gods, and to be punished with this sort of ordeal. But he had to climb it, and he did after all. He spent hours climbing great mountains and descending frightful valleys. As his sweats kept raining, his strength kept renewing, yet he never came across any soul on this journey—not even a creeping creature. Like a lonely seeker. Wale just had to keep moving by the dictate of the commanding voice to an unknown destination.  Then, at the feet of this particular mountain, he arrived. He could barely see its peak.

“You must get to the peak”, said the voice.

Wale knew he did not have to argue with the voice, so he instantly resumed the adventure. He climbed the mountain with the grace of a squirrel in the trees. He himself became marveled at his own dexterity.  At the peak of the mountain, he stood, panting his heart out. “This must be the highest mountain in this world”, he presumed within him. As the ground seemed like a bottomless pit, he only concentrated looking up into the clouds.

“Turn to your right!” The voice commanded.

As he obeyed the command, Wale saw the clouds becoming thicker, and drifting in violent motions. Darkness came upon the sky, and the Moon retired, the voiced ceased. Then he saw the lightening; he heard the thunder; and the storm came. Again, he was amazed, but not frightened. He had held so strongly the belief that he was the only rain bringer, storm starter, but here he stood in the middle of a storm, at the peak of a heavenly-high mountain with his eyes and mouth as dry as a nut showing no sign of tears or cry. For a while, it rained fiercely, and for the while, Wale only stood and watched.

“Stop! May calm return!!” he commanded. Like water upon a fowl’s back, nothing changed. It rained still, and heavier it became.

“Come to me my Lord”. He said in a tone of supplication. And like a spell upon a hungry feline before a prey, nature lost its grip on the weather, and the storm instantly ceased. The Moon re-emerged, and again dispelled the darkness of the night.

“Look up to the right”, again, the voice came, “up there is the world of the Ita people; the kingdom of the Ita whom you called ‘strange-looking’ creatures are up there”.

Wale looked up and saw nothing still, but the drifting clouds. “It’s beyond the clouds. How do I get there?” He complained.

“Call upon Oya, the goddess of the wind; she will take you and your men upon her wings and fly you to the kingdom of Ita. There you will find the nation of your aggressors”, the voice directed. “And make sure you all go with the mint leaves in your nostrils for you cannot survive there breathing in their air unfiltered”, the voice added.

“Does Oya know me?” Wale asked out of desperation.

“Even before you came into the world, the gods and goddesses knew you”. The voice responded comfortingly.

Then Wale woke up to the reality of his own world, his sweats were almost thicker than blood; the whole house was pulsating with his heartbeat. He could barely have a clear vision of the things around him. His mother rushed towards him as he coughed. And his father immediately rushed in too from his own chamber at the alert of his mother’s scream. Wale’s chamber had become a permanent dwelling place for his mother, and a frequently inspected site for his father and other relatives and friends, for two days, for he had slept the abnormal sleep. Yet, from the many physical examinations and spiritual inquiries, his body and spirit were still very much intact.

“Wale can you hear me?”  His mother asked to examine his consciousness.

“Get him water to drink first!” His father ordered.

“I can hear and see you and father, mother.” Wale finally replied exhaustedly.

Before Wale could struggle to sit upright from the mat he had lain, a tray full of assorted fruits and vegetables, and a cup of water was served at his feet. As expected, he quenched his thirst first by emptying the cupful of water with a gulp. Then he asked for another. The excitement running through Folusho’s body was too electrifying for her to control. Then she screamed out of joy. Before, Wale could even take the first bite on the banana he had peeled, the whole of Ogunta invaded their house and his chamber. Some elderly men and women, made advancement to touch him to confirm he was in full flesh and blood. “May you leave long for your parents and all of Ogunta”. This was the regular comment that filled the air from the mouths of the men and women who had confirmed him alive, and in flesh and blood.

Folusho joyous tears could not just cease flowing. Of course, many of the women present would have cried heavier oceans than she did. “The gods still live among us”, an elderly woman commented as she touched Folusho on her shoulder, smiling with her and sharing in her excitement.  Folusho would never be tired bowing down for these elderly women and men as a response of welcome and appreciation for their shared humanity as to find out time to celebrate the return of their own son from the land of dreams and spirits.  For Folusho, it was the rebirth of Wale. She remembered when Wale was born that night and there was no trooping in of guests to welcome his birth. This one here meant more than making up for that quiet stormy night. Even her tears began to dance on the mud floors as they dropped. “I want to see the Oba”, Wale demanded. Nothing would oppose such a declaration, for it was customary and divine for Wale to do so.

In the evening, Wale was led to the Oba’s palace by his father and a company of Ogunta’s warriors.  Akin would not have missed out on this historic royal visit having been hinted about Wale’s intension by Wale himself. Former warriors and wrestlers still had their places of honour, even years after retirement. And in matters of war or deliberation about war, especially at the Oba’s palace, the knowledge and wisdom of great warriors were often considered very useful.

“And where is this land of Ota?” The Oba asked more sternly. He had been fully excited to get to know and see that Wale was still alive, and this news of going to war against the men of beast in their own country almost shattered his composure. He would never imagine engaging in any battle with the strange-looking invaders of their land again. Now every time Wale is celebrated for some feat or victory, he tended to ruin it with contradictory and appalling idea or deed. “Why must it be now? Why these strange creatures again?” The Oba yelled out of frustration.

“May you live long our king!” Akin prostrated, “If the gods have pre-ordained it, my king, refraining from it will be a glaring act of rebellion, my king. Who are we in the hands of our gods to rebel against their wishes and desires”, he added solemnly.

“Must the gods pre-ordain their people for war with filthy beings. My fathers before me never fought any war close to this kind, in the history of our land. Do the gods take pleasure in the pain and sorrow of our people—their people?” The king raged further in questions, “is the chief priest aware of all of this?” He added.

“My king…”, Kehinde stood up, bowed, and responded, “the foolishness of the gods is always wiser than the wisdom of all men. Reason not only with your head, my king, let you spirit speak to you, there you will hear the voice of our ancestors. One more thing, my king, the chief priest has been fully informed”.

Like a dew upon a heated leaf, the Oba’s angered was cooled off; he mellowed for a moment. His countenance showed a loss in a deeper thought. It was clear that only an elder could touch the spirit of a king with mere words in situations as dicey as this one.

“When do you intend to leave? Are your men set for this? Who will guide you?” The king questioned indiscriminately as though to find a good excuse to terminate the proposal.

“In three days, my king. And the warriors of Ogunta are always ready to defend their land.” Wale replied.

“May the gods be you”. The Oba gave his permission and blessing.

The evening had been a long one with the Oba, but the gods be praised, he finally conceded to the war proposal. Wale and his cohort had felt the impact of putting so much strength and wisdom to convince a king to approve a war plan. The chief priest had waited in much anticipation for this; he knew what Wale was about to embark on was a just but highly risky war; it was a thread upon which Ogunta’s fate hung.

“Let me meet with the chief priest. I will return before the night birds start singing”. Wale said to his father and to all of his cohort.

“You are a friend of the night just as you are of the day. I shall be waiting till you return”. Kehinde replied.

May the gods be with you Wale”, Akin said, “we shall all see you tomorrow”. Just like Wale, Akin knew it was going to be another long meeting with the chief priest.

The third day arrived just as the wind blew so fast the hours away. It felt like the day carried the earth on its shoulder; Wale, Bola, Tunde, Ayo, and many other warriors of this new generation could feel the weight of the day. And even the chief priest’s shrine was too thick and heavy with burnt offerings, songs and dances of the spirits. Tap…Tap…Tap…Tap…Tap…Tap…Tap!!! This was the repeated rhythm produced by the stamping feet of the warriors as they chanted harmonious tunes through the thick sacred smoke cleansing their bodies and spirits, strengthening their bones and muscles at the same time. Although the boys did not know what they were singing but each and every one of them chanted with perfect harmony and melody, and their faces like those of the elders. The chief priest was glad that he had perfected the ritual on them. He knew they were not alone as the voice of a hundred warriors was the voices of ten thousand forefathers. As he beat one warrior on his chest, the warrior became more aggressive and thirsty for blood. And as his two servants, the incense bearers, increased the smoking with a swing of the small earthen pot, the warriors could only see the battle field. “The battle is ours, victory is ours, Ogunta reigns forever!!!” They all cried out repeatedly at the end of the ritual of purification and fortification.

At the cool of the evening, Wale and the warriors, escorted by the chief priest and his servants, marched through the narrow path created by the cheering crowd of the villagers who had converged to cheer and bid them a victorious farewell to the battle field. The king’s presence was the most powerful source of strength and sign of victory. The gods, and even the god of victory were with them as the king stood among the people to cheer their warriors to war and victory.

Wale and the warriors had walked a long distance crossing seven kingdoms, heading towards the kingdom of Osongu where the highest mountain in Oduduwaland was found, but the king of Osongu was a crafty fellow. Although, he had pledged allegiance to Ogunta, he often rebelled against some moves of cooperation and alliance. Wale and the warriors were denied passage into Osongu unless they paid a hundred cowries and ten pure white fowls, and ten pure white goats. The king of Osongo claimed that the evening was a sacred one for their kingdom when they would have to make some ritual for their goddess of peace and fruitfulness, and that Ogunta was only going to defile their land and render their ritual powerfulness by marching through it with their feet filled with the rhythm of war.

Wale and the warriors had none of these items of demand. One of them had to run back to Ogunta to relate this news to the king and chief priest, and Ayo volunteered. The night falls were drawing near, yet neither Ayo nor any sign of Ogunta was seen. Wale and others were gradually running out of patience. This was a bad omen for Bola and Tunde, and a few others, but Wale’s high spiritedness kept many others in their burning passion.

“Traitor! Traitor!! Traitor!!!” Wale yelled at the Osongu’s warriors who prevented Ogunta’s warrior from entering into Osongu’s land. The commander of Osongu’s warrior only gave a deaf ear to Wale’s noise. The night had come, yet Ayo had not returned, but the Moon came, and Wale’s hope was doubled. The brightness of the Moon took away the worry of lateness of time. Then suddenly, Wale and some elders of Ogunta appeared with all that were demanded. Without, a word, they handed everything to the chief priest of Osongu and his servants who also waited patiently among their warriors at the border gate of Osongu. “Ogunta may now pass through Osongu”, said the chief priest of Osongu.

“And we will revisit this act of treachery”, Kolawale, an elder of Ogunta commented and Wale and the warriors of Ogunta marched through Osongu.

The warriors of Osongu accompanied Ogunta’s warriors to the foot of Akpatara, the highest mountain in Oduduwaland.

“We can take it on our own from here.” Wale said.

“We would never come up with you”. The commander of Osongu’s warriors replied.

Wale and his men sweated away hours in aiming the peak of the mountain. But just as it was in his dream, the more they sweated, the more their strengths were renewed. And even though they seemed to have spent much hours on it, their dexterity was good for the task. Obstacles and challenges on the way must be surmounted and faced squarely and collectively. 

“It’s a scorpion—a big one!” Ayo screamed out as a giant arachnid approached his direction.

“Hold on!” Wale advised.

Ayo stopped moving, and with his stick in his right hand he was ready for his first battle with the giant arachnid.  Others also were set with their sticks and hatchets, but Wale warned them against killing this aggressor.

“We need it alive.” Wale instructed.

They all approached the scorpion and surrounded it. In defence, the scorpion set out its pincers, lifted up its tail and set its stinger, ready to attack anything that would cross its danger line. But Wale had always had his way with things like this. “Give me a piece of cloth”, Wale demanded, “and soak it with water”. Tunde quickly loosen the piece of cloth he had as a headband and soaked it with the water from his jar and handed it to Wale. Everyone retraced and adjusted as necessary for this was not one of those regular and normal-size spiders that could easily be run over. This was a thing from sent by a malevolent spirit of the mountain. Most of them thought.  But Wale had a totally different belief.

“Mata mata mahunda mata!”, Wale uttered some incantation as he threw the wet piece of cloth towards the scorpion. The scorpion quickly moved towards the piece of cloth and rested on it. Wale threw yet another wet piece cloth of the scorpion, and with his stick, and with the help of some of his men, he fetched the scorpion into a big sack, and commanded it to stay still. The giant arachnid indeed stayed still. And they moved. 

They had progressed for a while, and had covered half the height of the mountain when their strengths began to weary. And they had to reach the peak. Then suddenly, in the middle of their ordeal, a part of the mountain began to move in Wale' eyes. Then Wale quickly dictated it to be a reptile.

“A viper is approaching”. Wale warned.

“ I can’t see anything approaching”, Tunde said.

“Stop! Don’t advance further!” Wale commanded.

They were on the steep part of the mountain at this moment, and the viper slithered out towards Wale's direction. He, of course, did not wait to be told to retrace and change direction. Others did as it was expedient too. But they had to climb past this point to get to the peak. But the viper kept moving towards them. Wale just like many others was not perturbed that they encounter these challenges, after all, they had been warned that no one had ever been to the mountain's peak, and that the first man that attempted it never returned. But Wale and his men were obstinate and believers of their own fates.

“It must be killed”, Wale said.

“Why don’t we get it alive too?” Someone asked.

“You can’t trust a snake”. Wale responded.

As they descended, Wale led the viper to the point where they encountered the scorpion. It was a less steep part. And they all took their a position, spreading out to ambush the vile serpent, that seemed to focus only on Wale. Then Wale faced it with his eyes wide opened.

“Lose your fangs, hold your venom”. Wale commanded, and the viper became like a mere pet before them. Wale hit it, and they all hit it to death. And they moved again. Re-climbing the steep part they had earlier covered was not a palatable experience to them. But getting to a relief that would lead them to the peak was a great feat. Wale got to the peak first and helped others to climb up too. When they had come to the peak, Wale looked u to the sky and faced the shinning Moon and cried out: “Oya come and take us by your wings”.

The whirling wind that came almost swept them off their feet. Then the clouds drifted open and a hundred winged-horses emerged one after the other and took each warrior away with Wale being the last.