when the passerines sang
Ilu Ojiji, I see clearly!
Though my eyes are dim, and my body is frail like wet wood. I see the thick cloud gathering its blessings for a downpour that our rivers may be healed.
I see the sun shining bright on our weary hearts; giving us strength, good health, and great fortune. The flowers will blossom again — they will rise like the morning glory. Our harvest will be plenty, and our land will flourish. Once more, our birds will sing — and our bards will go downtown to render the songs of freedom!
The vision was true. Baba Ifagbemi, the village’s old blind seer had seen it all. The same old man had revealed the indignation to befall every man in Ilu Ojiji.
It was the Olohun festival. Every Ojiji man, woman, and child had more than enough to eat and drink while the king’s flute men, bards, and entertainers delivered a beautiful performance to celebrate the mountain gods.
Baba Ifagbemi had been called to foretell what the future holds for the next season. Accompanied by a little boy, the old seer walked slowly, finding his way to the King to deliver the message of the gods.
There was a deafening silence, only the chirping birds dared to make a sound. This was the moment everyone was waiting for. Every man wanted to know the fate of their crops, livestock, and all they had.
Breaking the silence, Baba Ifagbemi bowed, paying obeisance to the alayelua:
Kaaaaaaabiyesi… Ooo! Alayelua, igbakeji orisa. Ki ade pe lori, ki bata pe lese. May you continually live long on the throne of your fathers! Olohun sends his greetings to everyone.
The Oba waved his to irukere majestically
“Hmm…!” He heaved a heavy sigh that fed fear to the murmuring crowd. As he began to speak, ominous silence engulfed the square.
“Behind the mountains that shield us, I see chains of sickness and smokes of death. For some time, this land will be desolated.”
Things had taken a worse turn. Every nook and cranny of the village was isolated for fear of the unknown. The King had ordered every man to stay at home, for it was the only way to avert the curse. Even the melodious birds seemed to have deserted our dear land.
As I peeped through my small window where I was self-confined, I saw the sick grey clouds hanging over Ilu Ojiji's once lively playground. I quickly withdrew my face lest I get touched by unclean spirits.
It has been four full moons since the strange incurable sickness from the mountain started to spread like wildfire. News of the death of both the young and old travelled faster than rumours, even though there were no ‘women’ to gossip about them. With the market deserted, our trades were on total hold, our crops perished and our wild hunts ran deeper into the forest.
Didn’t Baba Ifagbemi say this was for a while and this strange infection would be averted? Didn’t he say the strange spirits among men were leaving just after the fourth full moon?
All these questions and many more raced through my mind.
Just like everyone in Ilu Ojiji, I eagerly waited for the time when everything will pass so I can meet Olabisi, my lover who lives on the other side of the river.
Reminisces of my romance with Olabisi by the river under the big oak tree which was an abode for the birds that sang our love songs to the high heavens flooded my mind.
I was alone in the big compound where I hoped to raise my children. I felt like a prisoner in a free world, not so free after all now that strange spirits are walking its surface and avenging whatever Ifagbemi said it was.
Would things ever be the same like Baba Ifagbemi had said?
Lost in my thoughts, my ears found the tweeting sound of Eyele Adimusa the village’s oldest bird. She seemed to call at the small passerine birds. Everyone believed Eyele Adimusa was a messenger of the gods among men.
“A bird…?” I asked as though I was expecting an answer from the half-shadow cast against the wall, and the little ray of light coming from my window.
I peeped again. This time, the long-silenced passerines had found their way to their different trees, rendering Eyele Adimusa’s melody as though they were calling on the villagers to come to see wonders.
This was the sign Baba Ifagbemi said we should watch out for when the land has been cleansed of its impurities. I heard the village’s town crier with his gong scream:
“Ilu Ojiji, ati ni imularada ati ominira!”
I quickly rushed to the door and opened it slowly to be sure the spirits hadn’t taken the human form to deceive and inflict us all. But, alas! It was real.
Everyone heard the birds chanting freedom and had come out to behold the beautiful world they had once owned. The flights of birds formed a V shape, flapping their wings to make a perfect rhythm, a symphony of freedom. I hurriedly wore my buba and sokoto.
‘Ile Olabisi ya!’ I was going to see the love of my life. I couldn’t be more grateful to the gods for being true!
I went under the beautiful blue sky as we have never seen in a long time, down to the Osinrin River where Olabisi and I would play, harmonizing our voices with the birds.
I could hear the beats of the village’s onilu bata;
‘Atimu Ilu Ojiji larada,
Omode ati agba ti gba ominira
Eranko, ohun ogbin, ati gbogbo iseda
Ati foju ija wo ibinu apaadi asi ti bori
Gbo eyin oku, orin isegun la o ma ko
Ireti n be fun Ilu ojiji
Ominira fun Ilu ojiji
We have faced the underworld’s anger and overcame it!
Say to our dead, we are singing your victories.
Hope for Ilu Ojiji!
Freedom for Ilu Ojiji!
Eyele Adimusa rested on my Buba as I hopped away in wild glee dancing to the Bata beats.
PS: This was a story I wrote 4 years ago. Didn’t like it much — but one day I felt cute, and now here it is. Heheheh!
