ÀBÍKÚ

Ajani was omoluabi, alalubarika

the son every mother desires from eledua

Omo mi, se o ri bi Ajani se ma n fi okan iya è bale?

You see how Ajani puts his mother’s mind at rest? Mama would ask rhetorically.

Ti a ba ti wa laarin awujo abiyamo, se ni iya re a maa fi yoogan

His mother ceased not to show off what goodness she was blessed with.

Ajani was eyin oju

Mama’s golden eyes, glowing like the radiance of the summer eye of heaven

He was the delicate apple that mustn’t be touched, sitting carefully in Mama’s Eden

More precious than earth’s finest harvest of grain and tuber; corn, yam, wheat, or rice

For he was the only fruit that chose to stay as Mama’s àbíkú

His life gave her hope, joy and once more she believed the gods were benevolent

Mama Ajani was abiyamo

Baba Akamu’s widow whose hands toiled the soil to feed young Ajani

She’d go to the river bank to appease the gods for what’s left of her joy

And save his tears with ewure, owo eyo, epo pupa, and sprinkled ashes

Sing him melodious praises at day, and lullaby him to cradle at dusk

Day by day, his happiness was what she lived for, for he was her orisa kekere.

Ajani was akinkanju

He was the unbroken son of Mama Ajani, the brave akin loju ogun

Whose spear fell on the battlefield, and had his armour washed in blood red

His eyes cried for his Orisa to save him from the claws that ripped him apart

The gods had again watched him live his destiny. For sprinkled ashes, Ajani turned dust.

Mama Ajani groaned bitterly

Again and again, until she caught up with her àbíkú.

For those whom the gods are well pleased with, they live forever, and those who die, live as gods. This is the mystery of divinity.

Teminikansoso.