Her dreadlocks hung over her shoulders, her dark eyes held even darker
secrets, her nails shone like the stars , she sat, Cross legged,
starring into the dark night and speaking to none of the children that
played in the moonlight.
'Ará!" Her mother called from the doorway, a stone throw from the
play square where the girl sat.
'Mother' Ara stood up and headed for the house.
'Your Baba needs to talk to you' Ará's mother returned into the house
after delivering the message.
Ará walked slowly into her Baba's quarters, with every step she took,
her anklets jingled, playing a sacred music of it's own.
Ará finally stood at the doorway of her Baba's quarters.
"Baba, you called me" she smiled.
"Ará mi, my wonders, come and join me in eating" Her Baba smiled
back, gesturing towards the food .
Ará pulled out a stool , sat opposite her Baba and made for the food.
" Ará, your mother and i have things to tell you" Her Baba said with
mouth full.
Ara nodded in response, she hardly spoke.
" My daughter, you are our only child, but , you are worth more than
ten thousand children, even the gods confirmed it, we wouldn't trade
you for anything in this world" Baba smiled as he tried to chew on the
food in his mouth.
"Yes, exactly" Her mother tried to put in words, she always did this.
" Ará mi, when you were born, the whole community knew a miracle had
happened, just look at your nails, or is it your long hair? You are
even way too smart for a seven year old." Her baba was right, even
her birth was sacred, she slipped out with a single push and
immediately she arrived the earth, rain fell like never before and the
Osun river was over flooded.
"Yes, too smart" Her mother rubbed her on the head.
"Ará, it is the people who know you that can easily kill you" Her Baba
kept on chewing.
"Kill me? Baba" Ará's dark eyes went darker.
" Yes, this community is not safe for you, everybody knows you are a
special child, we cannot afford to loose you" Her Baba had stopped
eating, he had to be serious.
"What Baba is saying is, you have to move to Ile-Ife , to stay with
Aunty Bukola" Her mother wanted to be soft.
"Okay, I have heard" Ara didn't show any emotions, she never did, this
was what scared the community inhabitants. The people couldn't have
planned to kill Ará, they were only scared , scared that Ará might one
day become a problem they would have to deal terribly with. Even her
birth was trouble, the over flooded river killed a few villagers and
the priest had said it was a kind of sacrifice. The people didn't
see her as a special child, they saw her for what she was, sacred, and
this scared her parents because they loved her more than their own
life. If she stayed in the community, it would be easy for her to be
the main focus but, in a city as big as Ile-Ife, she would be another
child and nobody would care to focus.
*
Ile-Ife might have been big, really big, but, not big enough to hide
sacredness, not big enough to keep specialty hidden. The minute Ará
arrived the city, people turned around to have another look at her as
they passed by. Ará became like a tourist center, all eyes wanted to
see her, people came from all parts of Ife to Mayfair road, just see
the wonder of a child, her aunt's neighbors feared her, they hardly
spoke to her and they warned their children to keep away from Ará. So
many times, people would call her to ask why she bore such a name,
many times, she never responded.
Ará hadn't been in Ile-Ife as long as a month when Iya Bose , a
neighbour lost her son to a strange illness, the little boy who was
barely three year old had bumps all over his body, in less than six
hours, he stopped breathing and grew cold. The whole neighbourhood
mourned the baby, Aunty Bukola mourned too, it was during this
mourning period that Iya Bose decided to visit Aunty Bukola and ask a
million questions about Ará, it was during this mourning period that
Ará became infamous.
On that day, Iya Bose had walked into Aunty Bukola's house ,
frowning, she had asked,
"Where did you get this curse of a child from?"
"What do you mean?" Aunty Bukola asked, trying not to be angry at the
poor woman who was mourning her dead child.
"This child in your house, where did you get her? "
"My brother's daughter , they live here in Osun , but, in a village"
Aunty Bukola answered reluctantly.
" why is she here in Ile-Ife? Why did she come to the town?"
"My brother wants to protect her form evil people, can't you see she
is a gifted child?" Aunty Bukola smiled as her eyes caught the sight
of Ará's long dreads in the room.
"Gifted? Cursed you mean?" Iya Bose frowned as she too caught the
sight of Ará's long dreads.
"Ha! Don't say such, this little child is blessed by Osun our mother,
the gods have blessed her"
"What do you mean by gods? See, my pastor said she is evil, my pastor
is always right. Since she came to Mayfair road, lots of evil
incidents have been happening, last week, I lost my son , my only son!
Tell me, what are daughters when there is no son?" Iya Bose began to
cry softly.
"Iya Bose, please stop this, stop! Your daughters are beautiful, you
are still even young enough to bare sons again and please, Ará has
nothing to do with your son's death." Aunty Bukola tried consoling her
neighbor.
"Oh, she has, she does, I heard she starred at my son a long while ,
minutes before the bumps came out of his body, she killed my Tomiwa."
Iya Bose began to wail.
"No, ahan, Iya Bose, don't sound ridiculous please?"
"That girl Is a witch, look at her from head down, her nails, the dark
eyes, her hair, everything. Have you even heard her speak before? She
never speaks!"
"She speaks, but she hardly does, her body, she was born like that,
the gods sent her like that"
"No! The gods are dead, they don't send people to the earth, Almighty
God created her and she decided to practice witchcraft against him?
She is a witch and she killed my baby" Iya Bose stood and raised her
voice.
" Your baby is an Abiku." The words were followed by jingles from an
anklet, both women looked shockingly at Ará.
"Witch…"
"Ará, go inside now " Aunty Bukola wanted to protect her niece.
"My aunty, let me speak" Ará starred at the ground, "Madam, your son
will come back and die again, cut one of his fingers off when he comes
back and he would stick with you" Ará rose her head up, her eyes had
changed from black to bloodshot, "I didn't kill your son, I looked at
him , pleading with my eyes and heart that he sticks with you." With
that, she walked away, leaving both women shocked.
"Jesus Christ! I have seen and heard the devil speak, I fear for my
life! The devil lives with us, Blood of our God! She killed my son,
did you hear her? Did you ?",Iya Bose screamed, throwing herself on
the ground, all the while , Aunty Bukola stood, transfixed.
Iya Bose began to spread the news that Ará was a witch who
communicated with demons, soon it was on every lip, everyone
consciously avoided Ará like a plague and the gods probably got angry.
Barely a month after Iya Bose's visit, Iya Bose slept and never woke
up. The whole of Mayfair road inhabitants began to ask that Ará return
home, she had caused enough havoc, if she belonged to the gods, then
she belonged to the community in the village.
*
Ará returned to the village community a few weeks after Iya Bose's
death , so many villagers feared her even more after the news of what
happened in the big city circulated , her Baba scared at the news
took her to the priest of the god Ifa, requesting that she be checked
and presented to the gods so they may know if she was a witch or she
wasn't.
The priest of Ifa chose a day that they would bring Ará to him so he
could do his usual sacrifice and ask the gods if she was a certain
witch or if really she was a gifted child who would save the world,
if she really was worth over ten thousand children.
The Ifa priest consulted the gods and then held series of rituals
in the appointed day . after hours of traditional activities, the
priest finally announced that Ará was meant to serve the god "Osun" ,
taking her to Ile-Ife was a sacrilegious act, she needed to be close
to 'river Osun' , she wasn't evil , she was extremely special , a gift
from the gods for the gods.
Written by Duruem Gory Ada
Psalmadaobi@gmail.com