ÀṢÀKẸ́

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

I made attempts to hit him with the bowl in my hand, but he hit it off, and covered my mouth with his other hand. Gradually, I lost my breath, and the more I struggled, the more he increased his hold on me. I thought I was going to die, I saw fury, rage, and fire in his red eyeballs as he muffled some english words. This continued for some seconds more, till he heard the gossip of some ladies who approached from a distance. He looked away and was now reluctant as to whether to leave me alone or not.

"I don't want to spoil what I've spent a lifetime planning", he said as he loosened his hold on my neck, and ran off. I coughed and wheezed, drew in a lot of air, and heaved a sigh of relief. It was hard maintaining my balance, so I staggered till I fell on the ground, still trying to catch my breath and understand the drama that just happened. Why would my sit mate's father want to kill me with so much fury in his eyes? Afterall, it was his father who killed my grandmother, I should be the one to have sought out for revenge. I sat up, with my back rested against the banana tree, confounded and unable to wrap my head around what was going on, and stared at my bowl which he flung with his hand.

"Ahnahn, Àṣàkẹ́? Kílóṣẹlẹ̀?" (Ahnahn, Asake? What happened?), one of the ladies, who were on their way to the stream asked. I shook my head. Even if I wanted to explain, my life story at that time was so complicated, even I didn't understand.

"Kọ̀sí? Ehn, kílódé tí o wá jókòó bíi atọ̀ọ́lé?" (Nothing? Ehn, why are you now seated like a bedwetter?). I must confess, she pulled the wrong string at such a wrong time. I stared intently at her, she wasn't someone I was familiar with, so I analyzed her and searched for a suitable response.

"Aunty aláyà gbígbẹ, tí ẹ bá mọ̀ pé ẹ fẹ́ búmi, ẹ máa lọ. Kọ́ ń tórí bíi ọkùnrin" (Aunty flat chest, if you know you want to insult me, please leave. See how she resembles a man), I fired and looked away not minding the consequence. Most women were blessed or wished to be blessed with sizeable breasts; they were the valour of womanhood, a female warrior in a sturdy breastplate, or so we thought. As a teenage girl, aside looking into the mirror and checking out my face, I watched out constantly for those two cloven valleys, and anticipated their growth into hills. Now, I have realized that the valour of womanhood surpasses her physical qualities, or her abilities to cast a spell on a thousand men. Her strength is in her perseverance, it's embedded in the heart of what she knows, the value she places on herself regardless of what people say, being able to stand tall in the midst of overwhelming pressure. It is in her ability to be independent, and raise great children. Unfortunately, many women in my village walked in pride of their breasts but ignored the power of a strong mind.

"Ah! Àṣàkẹ́?! Lénu ẹ sí mi? Momà ti tẹ́ o!" (Ah! Asake?! From your mouth, to me? I've been disgraced), she screamed. She was obviously older than I was. I looked away from where she stood and hissed. She pulled me up and threatened to remove my wrapper and disgrace me publicly. Immediately, my lost courtesy was restored.

"Ah, ẹjọ̀ọ́ ma, mo kàn báa yín ṣeré ni" (Ah, please ma, I was just joking), I pleaded and tightened my hold on my wrapper. It was a tug of war that lasted for some minutes, I begged all through but she wouldn't listen.

"Ọ̀dẹ̀"(fool), she stopped, "a kúkú mọ gbogbo bó ṣe ń ṣẹlẹ̀ ní ilé e yín" (we are aware of everything that is going on in your family), she hissed, grabbed her bowl and left. I was shocked, even though I was aware of how fast information traveled in my village. As much as I dished out words, I was readily hurt by them. I reached out for my bowl and walked slowly to the stream, and pondered on what she had said. As I got closer to the stream, I couldn't hear the peaceful movement of the water as I would, all I heard were laughters, gossips and murmurs. I walked as stealthily as I could and got into the water. My legs were refreshed by its cold, and I was tempted to spend more time, just in the water. I succumbed, and waited as I watched everyone around. Some scooped the water with their hands and cleaned their bodies, some brought their clothes for washing, others hung around and talked together, and there were people like me who just came to fetch and took their leaves.

I noticed some ladies stared at me and laughed. I squinted and tried to make a sense out of it, then I realized almost everyone stared at me and murmured, some laughed. Feeling uncomfortable, I placed my bowl, which was filled with water, on my head and took my leave, still confused as to why they stared at me. I went back home that morning with a lot of sorrow and sores in my heart, especially when I remembered the state my parents were before I left the house. I dragged my feet along the way, wishing that somehow, I would meet my parents laughing together and all these madness would come to an end. But i got to my house to see bàámi in an argument with màámi, and he held in his right hand, a big bag. Even when he went into the forest for days, bàámi took nothing with him except his vest, guns, and some charms, which made me wonder where he was headed.

"Bàámi, kílóṣẹlẹ̀? Níbo lẹ̀ ń lọ?" (Daddy what happened? Where are you going?).

"Wòó, Àṣàkẹ́, èmí ń lọ fún n yín! Mi ò ṣe mọ́" (See, Asake, I'm leaving for you people! I'm not interested anymore). I felt a sharp pain in my heart. Before then, I knew men sent women packing, but it was strange seeing bàámi leave the house for màámi. It was without my consent that tears poured from my eyes.

"Aaah! Bàámi, ẹjọ̀ọ́, ẹ má ṣe báyìí" (Aaah! Daddy, please, don't do this), I cried and held tightly to his bag. Màámi made matters worse as she kept shouting behind, "jẹ́ ó ma lọ!" (let him leave!). I begged màámi to apologize but she wouldn't.

"Ẹ̀yin nìkan kọ́ lẹbí tí mo ní. Tí ẹ bá sọpé ẹẹ̀ lọ ọ̀dún ẹbíjọgbé, mo ní ìyàwó ìmíì, àti àwọn ọmọ tó ma tẹ̀lé mi" (You're not the only family I have. If you refuse to participate in the ebijogbe festival, I have another wife and kids that will follow me). The festival meant a lot to bàámi, and there was no way he could participate without his family. He needed to win that particular year's contest so he could request something big from the king, as that was the prize for the winner. I clung dearly to his bag, not wanting to let go, but he kept pulling it. I cried uncontrollably, and begged him, with a beam of hope that he would return inside with his bag, but he didn't. He dragged his bag from my hands and left without saying goodbye. I wanted to run after him, but I felt weak and all I could was lie on the ground and weep, not minding the attention I got from passersby. It didn't make sense that màámi would turn her back against the man who had been there for her for many years, because of Jesus she knew not up to six months. I didn't think she thought this through, because the economy of our family rested solely on bàámi's shoulders, even the goods màámi sold in the market were from his farm, he was the source of all we had.

Hours later, I sat in front of the house, still sobbing, while màámi was inside, probably regretting her decision. I faced down and wouldn't even look up. As I stared at the dusty ground, a man's feet stood before me; his feet were covered in dust and his toenails were dirty. I looked up to see my biological father with his injured ear and deeply carved tribal marks on each side of his cheeks. He smiled but still looked fierce at that. I froze and stared at him. He lifted up his cutlass and struck my left hand with a great force which tore my flesh...

I wish you a happy new year!! May this year yield for us better results than we saw from the previous as we plan and invest into the year in Jesus name!
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