Wale and the Little Moonlight

CHAPTER NINE

The day was here. As usual it was that time of the year that people harvested their crops, and lovely weather  could be seen in the sky, and the sun was certain  in the east. Ogunta kingdom was kicking again with liveliness as the people went about putting things in places for a great harvest feast. Ojola people with their warriors had journeyed seven good days before they finally arrived Ogunta. But The Great Oba was not with them. He sent his son to represent him. It was believed by the people of Ojola that The Great Oba was not only the representative of the gods but also a god, therefore must not been seen regularly by commoners’ eyes and Ogunta, and their commoners were never worthy of seeing him. They could see his son in his stead. It was a popular saying and knowledge that ‘nothing moved The Great Oba from his throne only death and war could attempt that’.

Whether The Great Oba or his son, Ogunta were pleased to receive Ojola in their land, but were also prepared to put their warrior’s back on the ground and have Ojola pay tribute to Ogunta. It was going to be a historic day for Ogunta; Akin would be the greatest warrior and wrestler of all time.

The chief priest of Ogunta had performed the necessary rituals and cleansing of the village square as usual, and the ceremony had been declared opened by the Oba. Everything seemed reminiscent of the first harvest feast Wale had witnessed. Even though things had changed they so much remained the same for him. The lovely weather, the exhibition of the food stuff and crops, the sharing of food, the exchange of food stuff, the talking, the noise, the drumming and the singing, all of these remained thrilling and exciting as ever. But this time, Wale viewed and witnessed them with manly senses; he found a more pleasure in them this time as compared to his first experience.

 Everything at the ceremony had begun to make some little sense to him, not only the wrestling contest. However, none of these side attractions could be compared with the wrestling competition. Take away the wrestling contest, then, there was no harvest feast in Ogunta for Wale.

One thing that Wale could never derive pleasure from was the parading and dancing of the maidens whom he perceived as disturbance and burdens from the gods, and found nothing pleasurable from them. But he would never compare anything in this life to what he shared with his mother. He always believed her mother was a perfect specie, different from others in the female folk. She was incomparable to any. The dancing of the maidens offended Wale’s sight but excited everyone, and excited Ojo, the prince of Ojola, the most. Every other visitor outside Ogunta found the dancing maidens exceptionally beautiful.

“Oh, the gods are indeed kind; these daughters of Oduduwa are the beauty of the gods”. Ojo commented as he was utterly stunned by the maidens’ moves.

“Indeed, the gods are kind; they have blessed us with many good things. These ones here dancing are amazing gifts”, another king from another kingdom who sat close responded.

“Are they all from this kingdom?” Ojo asked out of excitement.

“Yes, prince Ojo”, the Oba of Ogunta replied with a smile. “Ogunta has much more than you can see now. Our kingdom is indeed blessed”.

Ojo at this moment began to consider having to take a wife from Ogunta. Or even many of them as his wives and concubines, as a prince who would become king after his father. Just like other guests at the ceremony outside Ogunta, Ojo believed that Ogunta maidens were the most beautiful in the whole of Oduduwaland and swore within himself that his wrestler must win the wrestling contest with Akin so that Ogunta would become the tributary of Ojola so that he might have his ways with their maidens.

The ceremony announcer had just announced the moment for the wrestling and Wale’s interest had been revived back. The parading by the wrestlers thrilled Wale like the dancing of the maidens thrilled Ojo. The parading promised exciting matches and everyone somehow believed that this was the moment that even the gods were waiting for to be entertained by men.

The first set of wrestlers was only citizens of Ogunta kingdom who only fought for the prize of any of the maidens and plots of land for there was no more of the Oba’a daughter left to be married out to the prospective champion. This was also a big contest for the young men of Ogunta for it was what Akin had fought and won which raised him to his status of the greatest wrestler in Oduduwaland and at this point his victory and fame had attracted contenders from beyond Ogunta and his title had become an international one. And many kingdoms who tried to defeat him only ended up annexing themselves to Ogunta.  And now many of these Ogunta wrestlers fighting for maiden and plot of land would not contend with this set of wrestlers--which is of the highest ranking--but any of them who wished to contend with Akin for his title was free to join the set of wrestlers who were as mighty as the rock and as fierce as the lion.

Wale liked the looks of the wrestlers and admired their valour. “Whoever emerges as the champion of this category will be ranked second to Akin. That will be our future hero”, he thought within himself. This, exactly, was the arrangement. Each period that passed by, a new champion had emerged from this group but they never defended their title for the second time as they always lost out to a new champion. Wale had kept the record of every single one of them—their date of victory and that of defeat. Even though he never went to watch them, the news and songs about them were enough for a record.

“May be today Biodun will defend his championship or another will emerge”, Wale thought again within him.

Biodun was the defending champion. And the people expected that he made a difference that day by retaining the title to become better than those before him after Akin, at least to give Ogunta a glimpse of hope for a future great champion when Akin’s strength will have worn out.

At last, it was really a show of superior strength and skill as one man defeated nine  contenders who were deemed at par with him in terms of strength and skill. He feasted on them as a cat would on rats; he put their backs on the ground as a mother would her sleeping child. Yes, Biodun was that strong and good. He was simply exceptiona just like Akin ; he had proven himself as a true champion, he had defended his championship. This victory gladdened the heart of every son and daughter of Ogunta.

“At last, a new hope is born in Ogunta!” Wale said silently staring at Biodun and smiling gently.

What an evening of glory for Biodun! What a beacon of hope for Ogunta. Akin liked this new victory of this old champion, Oba liked it, the elders liked it too; every indigene of Ogunta liked it. They just couldn’t help smiling at each other and chanting Biodun all over the place. Perhaps, it was a sign of a better thing or the best thing to come in a few moments when Akin would be facing his contenders.

A few moments gone by, the big moment was announced for the greatest contest. Even though cheering and excitement followed the announcement every contingence suffered its tension and nervousness. It was going to be the hottest of all the contests, especially with the great kingdom of Ojola being represented. Even a pocket of communities and kingdoms that so desired to regain their full independence from Ogunta had come with their finest and strongest wrestlers better than their former ones to defeat Akin and others to enlarge their territory. They were going to fight like hungry wolves, like wounded lions. Every Ogunta indigene knew this truth in their hearts. A moment of awe had come to all, and the evening seemed like the end of days.

As Akin came out to the centre of the arena as the defending champion Ogunta roared again in pride and glory. The first contender was being waited for to face his fate.  Surprisingly to all, the first two contenders who were from the kingdoms of Egbani and Osholo respectively were thrown to the ground so easily by Akin. More surprisingly it was so for the third, fourth, fifth, sixth, seventh, and eighth contenders, although with a little bit of effort accordingly. Just like Biodun, Akin defeated these fighters like a lion feeding on calves. The whole crowd was bewildered but Zubola wasn’t—not at all. It was his turn to fight— to fight for his dear great kingdom of Ojola. And possibly to fight for others who were defeated like chickens.

A tall and giant-looking fellow like Akin, Zubola approached Akin gallantly. His skin was as black as his hair, his eyes as red as blood. He was hungry for the fight. He was time for Ojola’s glory. Even Akin could feel the fearlessness in this warrior standing face to face with him. It was the height of the event everyone was waiting for.

“Let the fight begin!” The announcer shouted knowing the two wrestlers were eagerly waiting for the cue. Immediately, both of them move backward—a move of readiness and composure before attack. Then they both attacked each other. The fight had just begun.

The fight went on and on. Akin wrestled out his strength and skill to throw Zubola to the ground but it was like Zubola had read all his moves even before he made them. Zubola too made his own several efforts to throw Akin to the ground but they all proved abortive. They dragged on till the night began to fall. At this point the usual cheering and chanting of Akin had ceased. Even Ojo and the Oba of Ogunta had not sneezed out a sound about the fight; both of them watch in silence and with troubled hearts for the fates of their kingdoms were hanging on this dicey contest.

Darkness had almost covered everywhere when the torch bearers appeared with burning flames stuffed cylindrical containers carried on long big sticks to illuminate the arena for the wrestlers and the spectators. Meanwhile, Wale had left the arena immediately the torch bearers arrived. He had gone to do the un-usual, though a usual thing to him; he had gone to communicate with the moon. He needed more than the brightness from the torches. He needed the moon to shine its light on the arena. He needed Akin to throw Zubola to the ground and put his back on it at the full rays of the moonlight.

Suddenly, with the head-to-head, shoulder-to-shoulder encounter between the two fighters, the clouds shifted open and the moon shone down its best on the arena and the entire village.

“The moonlight! The moonlight!!” The crowd exclaimed.

The people stood amazed. Surely, it was clear to them that the gods had shown interest in the fight. The night became almost as bright as the day so that the fighters could read each other’s mind. The shouting and cheering soon began at the shinning of the moonlight. The people of Ogunta believed that the gods of their fathers were backing them up and that they would strengthen Akin more with their supernatural powers as they had shone their light on the land.

“Akin! Akin!! Akin!!!” was the only shouting and chanting the crowd could do. And Wale just arrived back at the arena from wherever he went to and straight to the same spot where he stood before. No one dared try to push him back this time as he made his way through the crowd. He had become a man now, not like six years ago when he was still a boy and was pushed to the ground for trying to break through the crowd.

It wasn’t long when Wale had arrived, watching the match with full expectation of victory from Akin that the clouds rolled back, the sky seemed troubled, heavy wind began to blow,; it blew away the flames of the torches in their bearers’ hands.  Suddenly the moon was gone again as a total darkness fell upon the arena and  the whole village. The wind became very serious that the people began to entertain fear in their hearts, and some began to disperse while some were unmoved. The Oba of Ogunta, the prince of Ojo, and other kings and chiefs present were so very much relaxed with not even a pang of fear in them. They were royalties; they needed to behave that way; and they knew better the ways of the gods and supernatural workings. Most importantly, they must see the fight to the very end.

Interestingly, in the ugliness of the whole scenario, the fight was still very much on even though the two wrestlers had almost become invisible, only their struggling and groaning were heard. Wale himself was confused but stood still. No one bothered to rekindle the torches for the wind would flicker them off again. Soon afterwards, the struggling and groaning of the fighters ceased, then a big panting came from one of them, then the wind stopped, the clouds rolled open again, and the moon shone forth its light again.

Amazed, amazed, amazed, the crowd stood. The people of Ogunta had just seen their backs with their own eyes. They had just seen the unthinkable. It was Akin on the ground; it was Akin the rock who lay down straight with his back resting on the ground panting like a hunted spirit. And Zubola was seen resting his own back on Akin’s abdomen with his hands flung careless on him too, out of exhaustion—a clear sight of victory and defeat.

“Mmm…The rock has become a mere grain of sand!” One of the elders of Ogunta lamented.

No one said anything else out of shock and shame. It was like the whole glory of Ogunta had gone that night. Even Wale was utterly silent. And he knew, just like every other Ogunta person that the rain would not fall this very night. He knew that even his anger would never change a thing. So it was for Wale, Akin, and Ogunta that night.