Wale and the Little Moonlight

CHAPTER FIVE

At the age of twelve, Wale was already as tall as a sixteen or seventeen-year old. His age group feared him, even his seniors who were born four or five years before him were careful with him, not just because of his physical look, but mainly because of the strangeness in his character compared to theirs. His dreadlocks added a more awful aura to his look. In spite of all of this, no one was able to stop loving and admiring the rain bringer—The Night Rain Bringer. That alone stood him out and compelled people’s love and respect for him.

Even his fair skin which violated his parents’ thickly melanined skin was also perceived as an indication of the unusual. Fair skin was not common among the people of Ogunta; everyone was as black as ebony in their own way. Some believed Wale was a reincarnation of the early ancestors of Ogunta people. There was a belief that the first people that walked the soil of Ogunta were not as dark skinned as the people of this period because the sun was too young and mild by then to darken their skin and gene. So they thought Wale had walked this earth before and had come back in the circle of life. Yet there were another set of people who believed that his fair skin was after his maternal great grand-mother whom the people believed was married into Ogunta from a very distant kingdom on the eastern flank of the great river Niger as a result of long distance trade his maternal great grand-father conducted with these people. Whichever story was true; Wale was a tall thin handsome boy.

Wale had his many traits and attributes strangeness and uniqueness that the people saw, knew and could put up with. But one thing that the villagers, especially other young boys within his age range, did not cease to gossip and murmur about was the fact that he had refused to join other boys in the farm. He never joined his farther in the farm—which was the duty and pride of every boy and young men in the village as farming was the major occupation of the people. It was perceived as the soul of the political and economic structure of Ogunta community. And any male person who was of age and refused or did not engage in this noble occupation or duty given to them by the gods was believed to be a recluse or mentally not healthy because life revolved around it.

“How could a male child despise what feeds him and his family?” Some young men complained as they came back from the farm and saw Wale sitting alone under the mango tree in his father’s compound either singing or playing with sticks, or sometimes in a deep silent mood.

“Perhaps, when he grows up into a man he will move from house to house begging for food and money to keep his family”, another mocked.

“Olohun ma je!” Yet, another interjected.

“Why are you countering that?” Others asked.

“Because begging is not the way of life of our people”, came the explanation.

“Then anyone who would bring such a disease into our land will be punished by the gods”, others exclaimed.

“Only the gods will decide on that”, was the voice that came as the final opinion.

Wale had never liked working on the farms. He preferred staying at home while everyone else was busy with one activity or the other. But his staying at home was not total idleness or negligence of duty as most of the youths and children in the village believed. He preferred to do his own thing all alone, and his parents were not worried about him, though sometimes, his mother would be concerned about what might become of him. His father, on the other hand was never perturbed for once. He had heeded the advice of Baba Ogun and saw wisdom in it.

“Welcome papa, welcome mama!” Wale bowed as he collected the basket from his mother’s head and the big hoe from his father's hand. He had jumped off the bench and ran to welcome them as soon as he saw them emerged from the road onto the compound.

“Thank you my son!” His mother appreciated.

“Thank you Wale!” His father appreciated too.

They always liked it when Wale ran to welcome them and relieved them with some loads. And the humility with which he always did this always gladdened their hearts and made them feel the joy of parenthood.

“Mama how was the farm today?” Wale asked with his face looking straight into his mother's eyes.

Wale liked looking into his mother’s eyes each time they had conversation. It was the bond between the both of them; it was the love they shared that made it natural. Though he never had the guts to look into his father’s eyes in the same manner, but he never loved him less. He also had a unique bonding with him too.

“Wale the farm was fine. Your father and I am really trying for the crops. We are working so hard to make them grow well. We take away the weeds to make their beds and dwelling comfortable for them”. Folusho explained.

“Mother, you and father are really helping the crops grow”. Wale complimented.

“Yes my son, you need to see corns as they grow tall just like you. The yams are sprouting buds, and the plantain and banana plants are flowering. Everything on the farm is blooming. The goddess of fertility has indeed favoured our land this year. The harvest will be boom and we will have plenty for our stomach and for sale. May the gods be blessed!” Folusho commended.

Folusho and Wale kept on talking as they walked down heading towards the backyard where they would go the store and drop the loads.

“Mother did father kill another snake today?” Wale asked.

“No Wale, snakes don’t appear on the farms every day. So your father did not kill any snake today”.

About three market days ago, Folusho had seen a big python on their farm while she was working on it.  The snake had taken shelter under the heap of off-rooted weeds by an extreme of the wide expanse of the farm. And Folusho had wanted to pack the heap to somewhere farther. As she was packing it, something moved the heap a little without her touch. Then she was unsure, and decided to pause and watch. Then the heap moved again, and a big long brown reptile slithered out.

“It is a pathon!” Folush raised alarm.

“Where…? Where…? Where is it?” All the boys working on the farm with Kehinde yelled, lifting big sticks as weapons running towards their female employer. As Kehinde followed suit.

Finally, it was Kehinde who collected a stick from one of the boys and hit it on the snake’s head before others joined him in the killing. The snake was big enough to eat a big foul but not a human, yet. And it was a taboo as a woman to be bitten by a python in Ogunta as such a woman would be thrown into the evil forest with the belief that she had wrong the goddess of fertility unknowingly. This explained why Kehinde wasted no time to attack the snake first before any of the boys with him could even raise a stick. The spirits of his ancestors would never be at peace with him should any curse befall his wife that would cause her to be thrown into the evil forest. It was a good thing that he and the boys killed the snake without much fight from the snake. Kehinde knew that the snake had just devoured a prey which was why it was very sluggish and easy to be run over. It was one story that so much excited Wale that evening when her mother narrated the story to him.

But this other evening did not have another story of a snake. Wale did not have to expect this kind of story every evening or as often as he thought. All he had to concern himself with was how to help mother and fix the evening meal; father must be very exhausted and famished. And he, Wale must finish his evening chores with mother before the night and the moon came calling.