ÀṢÀKẸ́

CHAPTER EIGHT

          “Gong, gong, gonnnngggg”, the sound from the gong echoed through my ears. I jumped off my feet and dashed out of the house. Many people were gathered too to hear what the town crier had to say.

“Keeeeeeeerrreee oo!” (a call for attention), he repeatedly hit the gong as more people gathered.

“Lónílé! Lálejù! Lókùnrin! Lóbìrin! Âtọmọdé! Àtàgbà! Ẹgbọ́ oun tí mo fẹ sọ!” (To the visitors, citizens, men, women, children and adults! Listen to what I have to say!).

There was murmuring among the people as curiosity filled the atmosphere.

“Kábíyèsí ní kin kí gbogbo ìlú!” (The king sends his greetings). This was the last thing I could recall him saying.

I was admiring the attires people had on when a man caught my attention. He was a few feet away from me, and had in his hand a cutlass; he was obviously a farmer. He stood alone where he was and gave a deep frown, unlike every other person. As I looked intently at him, I saw a scar on his right ear. I squinted as I tried to make a sense out of it. He turned, and we maintained eye contact. Looking at him, it began to dawn on me who he was. I felt shaky, and I began hearing footsteps. Nothing around me made sense anymore.

I ran inside with fear all over my body.

“Màámi! Màámi!”, I banged her door.

“Eehhnn? Kílofẹ́?!” (Yess? What do you want?), she said as she yawned loudly. It seemed she was asleep.

“Màámiii, moti rí ẹni tó fẹ́ fi tipá bámi lòpò!” (Mummyyy, I have seen the man who wanted to rape me!). For every word I spoke, I banged on her door. I figured she won't let me in or answer me if I didn't state the urgency of the situation.

I placed my ears on the wooden door, and I could hear her feet move all around as she exclaimed.

“Àṣàkẹ́, ṣó dá ẹ lójú?” (Asake, are you sure?), she asked, adjusting her wrapper.

“Bẹ́ẹ̀ni màámi!” (Yes mummy!), I held her by the hand and rushed out.

On getting out, I pointed to the direction where the man stood, but he was no longer there. I was confused, he must have realized I recognized him; but màámi thought I was hallucinating.

“Báwo lo ṣe mọ̀ pé òun ni?” (How do you know he's the one?). I needed to convince her I was in a right mental state, and that I was sure, not just accusing a random person.

“Màámi, àpá eyín wà létí wọn. Èmi ni mo gé wọn jẹ” (There's a scar from a bite on his ear, I was the one who bit him), I flapped my hands like a bird flaps her wings away from danger. I was restless and uncomfortable. What if he came back for me? My wandering mind repeatedly projected his image, a scary sight to behold. If the devil was a man, it would be him.

Màámi was perplexed, I was scared, but the people around shouted for joy as the town crier finished relaying the message he had. We were curious about what he said, so we called one of the people around to enquire what caused the excitement.

It was about the annual festival that was hosted in the village. The Ẹbíjọgbé festival was the biggest and most anticipated event — people from other village communities would even join us in celebration. It was a time to honour the gods, and to celebrate the oneness and peace of the community. It was a 3 day felicitation in which the fathers of each family would present an animal to sacrifice to the gods, along with other members of the family, after which there would be a cooking competition on the third day, which held among the mothers.

The man with the best sacrifice would be honoured and be tagged 'man of the year'. Likewise, the woman with the best food would be honoured, and the two families of the winners would be presented with gift items.