Chapter 3: Calabash of the gods (3)

Calabash of the gods (3)

There I was again, in my courtyard in the southern district of ILE. This dream was all too familiar to me, for I have had this dream several times before and it usually ended with me waking up in a jungle, cold, grief-stricken, and with eyes laden with tears. Within me, I knew I was not supposed to be here, but by the beard of the gods, I could not remember why. 

I knew what was going to happen next. I had steeled myself for it but still, I wanted to live through every moment of it. From the position of the sun, the feeling of the wind against my face, the rolling motion of grains of sand, and the soft chimes of the ward charms, clanging against one another, alerting the residents of the presence of the Unknown.

‘I have missed this.’ I said, taking in the feelings of home, despite being aware that this was a dream. 

I knew what day this was, it was the day I told my wife and son that I would be embarking on a journey, so soon after my latest deployment. I remember the pain I felt for keeping the truth about my quest from her. But I could not tell her, for the prince had forbidden me to talk of it. 

I could still vaguely remember the sadness on the face of the love of my life and the disappointment on our son’s face, it was gut-wrenching. But I knew that this was not the only thing this dream had in store for me. For it was a plague, sent from the bowels of the underworld and it has plagued me since the beginning of my quest. It was a design by malicious forces to break my spirit and I intended to face it head on, like I had done so many times before. I sat in the courtyard, awaiting the arrival of my wife and my boy. I dreaded the emotional torture I knew was coming from this encounter. 

I could hear voices coming from outside the compound. One of the voices was that of a woman, it was a smooth, flowery and soothing voice, like out of the mouth of a singing bird. Her voice filled me with sweet sorts of emotions, I thought I was in Oorun. The second voice was that of a child, it was bold, innocent, sweet and not afraid to express itself. The second voice filled me with such pride like never before. 

The wooden gates to the courtyard creaked open. The charms at the gates chimed, to alert the residents of the intrusion of someone. The gates were pushed open and there they stood, my most important people.

Before me stood a woman and a child, carrying a bunch of goods in their hands. The woman was dressed in a green buba and iro while the boy was bare chested with only simple shorts and a colorful garment tied around his waist to cover his nakedness. 

The little boy was the first to notice me, his eyes were first clouded with confusion and doubt then, his mouth was wide open, with flies even threatening to make it home. His shock soon turned to that of glee. He dropped the loads in his hands and ran towards my outstretched arms shouting.

“Baba, Baba. Is that really you? When did you return? How I have missed you sooo much. Mama, Baba is back, he is back. When did you get back?” The boy ran into my arms and squeezed me tightly.

“Akanni, you get back here and pick these things. Besides, was that the way I raised you? I believe I taught you how to properly greet your father.” 

The woman scolding the boy was my wife Aduke. She stamped her feet in fury and shouted at the boy, my son. Upon hearing her voice, the boy left my arms and prostrated before me.

“What do you say?” She demanded, her tone causing the boy to shiver in fear.

“Ekaabo, baba mi(7).” The boy quickly added.

“Good, now get back here and pick up this bag of pepper.” She said while stamping her feet. Her eyes were fixed on the boy, her glare threatening to burn two holes in his head .  

 The boy, not daring to meet his mother’s gaze, got up and walked towards her. She pulled his ear to scold him, before turning towards me. She pouted her mouth before walking towards me.

“You always spoil him. Why do you allow such Yekini? If he continues this way, will he grow up not respecting his elders?” She said, staring into my eyes, her dark brown eyes capturing my soul.

I smirked and said “Leave him be, he is but a boy. It is to be expected of him. He will outgrow it, one day. For now, it is best that he enjoys his childhood.”

“That’s what you always say Yekini but if the boy grows up and decides to neglect us in our old age, it shall be your fault I tell you.”

“Well, do not take it to heart, for we shall have many more children, by Oshun's(8) womb.” I said, trying to console her.

She broke out in laughter and smiled at me with that sweet smile of hers. It was the same smile that I remembered, the one that captured my heart on that fateful night in Igboro Village, within the village square.

While I was still enraptured by her smile, she was already prostrating before me, her two knees, firmly planted on the ground.

“Ekaabo, Oko mi(9).”

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I responded, nodding and smiling “Mo wanle, Aduke(10).”

I then helped with her loads, lifting some of the burden off her shoulders. Even though she insisted against it, she was very happy when I refused to heed her and instead carried the load. “How was the market day?’ I asked her like I had done several times in my dreams. She started talking about how her day went as we moved the goods into the house. We moved to the inner courtyard where a stool for me to sit on and some palm-wine and kola-nuts were served to me.

I looked around the courtyard, admiring the leaves of the small berry tree in the courtyard. It was a scenery I had seen several times, over and over again, both in material and the dream world. Even still it evoked all sorts of emotion in me. My dreams always followed the same format, never changing. Several times, I have tried to change it to no avail. That was why I was aware of what was going to happen next. Aduke would sit next to me and ask about my work and about what was bothering. For my lovely wife, although a simple villager, was very intelligent and observant. She knew me well, so there was no way I could hide things from her. 

‘Aduke is going to sit right next to me, she will then ask me about my tour in Igbo-Abameta. I will tell her about how we routed the invasion of the Masked King and his horse riders from the North. She loved to listen to my stories. But noticing the look on my face, she will then ask me what was wrong and I will tell her about the mission I had been entrusted with. I told her nothing of the details, but I can still recall her expression when she realized I would be going out again on another dangerous mission. A mission I might never come back from. I remember her standing up and just leaving the courtyard, the starry skies glittering and cold wind whooshing about, as if to amplify my loneliness, I remember it all.’ I sat alone with my thoughts while going over the sequence of events that were going to happen.

 I had tried over and over again, in my multiple dreams to just say something different. To change the course of events but the gods of dreams seemed to be hellbent on punishing me, reminding me that I left my family behind to go one a suicidal mission.

When the stars began to come out, Aduke came out from within the house, into the inner courtyard. She grabbed a nearby stool by the corner and sat next to me. She smiled at me, her smile was like the brightest, illuminating the night sky. Feeling the cold wind pass by her, she shivered and hustled closer to the firewood. She rubbed her hands together to curtailed the chill. 

She grabbed my bottle of Palm-wine and started chugging it down with some of the whitish drink streaming down her lips. When she had drunk a substantial amount, she turned to me, smiled once again and asked.

“How have you been these past few months? I heard from the market women and your Aunt that Igbo Abameta was especially hectic.”

I sighed and began to tell her all about the events that took place at the outpost in Igbo-Abameta, about how we had routed a syndicate of bandits and stopped an invasion of the Masked King and his horse riders from the North. She loved to listen to my stories and I love to tell them. Before long, Akanni also joined us. The young man bobbed his head back and front with excitement as I narrated the thrilling story of my battle with a horse-rider.

By the time I was done telling my story, Akanni was already fast asleep,

leaving only me and Aduke. She turned to look at me, staring at me for up to a minute.

“Is something the matter?” She asked.

“Why do you ask?” I answered, trying to mask my pain.

“Because you look worried, something has been weighing on your mind since you came back.”

This was it, the moment I was expecting. It always happened this way and it was sure to happen once again. I had no control over my body in this dream state. I was but a puppet dancing on the strings of a puppeteer, subject to the rhyme and the mood of the gods, fate never my own.

“No. Nothing at all.” I was flabbergasted by the words that came forth from my lips.

 ‘Was this not the same dream I have had over and over again? This never happened before. Was it always possible to change the outcome?’

“Okay, if you say so. Do come inside soon, you wouldn’t want your food to get cold?”

I sat on the stool in the courtyard for a while, just staring at the moon, observing the sway of the palm tree, and listening to the clinking sound of my door charm. I didn’t want to believe it, for it was not real. But I wanted it to be so in and in my foolishness, I willed it so.

 I had a lovely dinner with my family. A few tosses and turns in my sleep I had. I woke up several times in the night expecting to find myself in the waking world but I did not. I cut myself on my arms several times I did but here I was the next morning walking to my farm. My eyes were filled with tears, I wanted to believe this was all real. I looked at my son, who held my arm while skipping gleefully to the farm and I didn’t want it to end, so I made it real. I made the dream real.

8- Welcome, father.

9-Welcome, my husband.

10-I am home.

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