20. The Locust-Bean Seller (Iya-Oniru)
📜 Ni igbà àtijọ́ ní Makawa – ìlú kan ní ilẹ̀ ọ̀nà jíjìn, alátakùn kan wà (Iya-Oniru). Iya-Oniru jẹ́ ọ̀kan lára àwọn tó ń ta iru tó dára jùlọ tó sì ń dùn lára jùlọ. Kìí ṣe ohun àmúṣọ́rò nítorí ó dàgbà tó mọ gbogbo nǹkan tó yẹ kí ẹni mọ̀ nípa iru. Bàbá rẹ̀ jẹ́ àgbẹ̀ tó gbin igi iru láàárín àwọn nǹkan mìíràn, ìyá rẹ̀ sì ń ta iru àti àwọn èrè oko mìíràn. Iya-Oniru mọ gbogbo nǹkan nípa iru – láti gbínn gbínn títí dì kíákíá, àti bí wọ́n ṣe ń pèsè iru fún ọjà. Ó mọ bí a ṣe ń mú iru tó dára jáde – irú ilẹ̀ tó yẹ, ojú ọjọ́, àkókò àti bí a ṣe ń kórè rẹ̀.
“Lọ sí oko pẹ̀lú bàbá rẹ, kí o sì ràn án lọ́wọ́ láti ká iru tó pọ́n láti orí igi, tí ẹ bá sì padà, bó ìrẹ̀pọ̀ wọn kúrò lérè wọn. Èmi yóò padà wá sílé lónìí kùtùkùtù. Ao lọ sí odò láti fọ iru náà, lẹ́yìn náà ao pèsè wọn fún ọjà.” Iya-Oniru ṣì rántí ọ̀pọ̀ ìgbà tí ìyá rẹ̀ ti sọ èyí fún un.
Aṣà ìbílẹ̀ ni fún àwọn alátakùn láti fọ iru wọn ní odò tàbí ẹ̀rọ. Ìpèsè iru fún ọjà tó tẹ̀le e níní bíbò iru dáadáa – ní ìwọ̀n ojóná tó tọ́ (kí wọ́n má bàa jóná jù tàbí kí wọ́n ó tó jiná) – àti yíyọ iru kúrò nínú èèpo inú wọn. Ó tún wé mọ́ fífi iru pamọ́ sínú igbá tàbí dídì wọn sínú ewé, kí wọ́n sì tọ́jú wọn ní ibi tí kò gbóná jù – kí wọ́n má bàa bàjẹ́.
“Ao tún gbẹ díẹ̀ lára iru tí o bá bọ́” ìyá rẹ̀ á fi kún un lẹ́ẹ̀kọ̀ọ̀kan.
Iya-Oniru tún mọ̀ pé a lè tọ́jú iru tí a bọ́ kúrò lérè wọn fún nǹkan bí ọdún kan nípa gbígbẹ, kí wọ́n tó tà á, ó sì máa ń rí i dájú pé ó ní iru gbígbẹ ní àfikún sí ti tútù. Nígbàkúùgbà tí iru tútù bá á tán, á lo iru gbígbẹ tó fi pamọ́. Wọ́n máa ń wúlò nígbà tí iru kò bá sí láwọn àkókò, tàbí tí ọ̀dá bá mú.
Àwọn òbí Iya-Oniru ti dàgbà jù láti máa bá iṣẹ́ wọn lọ – bàbá rẹ̀ gẹ́gẹ́ bí àgbẹ̀, ìyá rẹ̀ gẹ́gẹ́ bí oníṣòwò. Iya-Oniru, ọmọ wọn kan ṣoṣo, ti ń darí iṣẹ́ àwọn méjèèjì bí ó ṣe lè ṣeé ṣe. Wọn kò lè ṣe àgbẹ̀ ní kíkún, nítorí náà ó dá iṣẹ́ àgbẹ̀ sí iru nìkan, ó sì dín àwọn òṣìṣẹ́ wọn kù sí ẹnìkan. Ó bá a lọ bí bàbá rẹ̀ ṣe ń ṣe, pẹ̀lú gbígbin àti ìkórè, ó dúpẹ́ pé ó mọ̀ lọ́pọ̀lọpọ̀ nípa irú ilẹ̀ tí iru ń gbilẹ̀, ojú ọjọ́, àti bí a ṣe ń kórè rẹ̀.
Iya-Oniru bá iṣẹ́ ìyá rẹ̀ lọ gẹ́gẹ́ bí oníṣòwò, ṣùgbọ́n ó fi ara rẹ̀ mọ́ títà iru nìkan ní ọjà. Ó máa ń kó wọn lọ sí odò láti fọ, lẹ́yìn náà ó máa ń pèsè wọn fún títà ní ọjà – gan-an gẹ́gẹ́ bí òun àti ìyá rẹ̀ ṣe ń ṣe tẹ́lẹ̀. Gẹ́gẹ́ bí òun àti ìyá rẹ̀ ṣe ń ṣe tẹ́lẹ̀, ó máa ń rí i dájú pé ó ní iru gbígbẹ ní àfikún sí ti tútù, kí ó bàa lè lo iru gbígbẹ tó fi pamọ́ tí iru tútù bá á tán. Ó jẹ́ aláápọn, olùfojúsùn kan ṣoṣo, ó sì pinnu láti lo ohun gbogbo dáradára.
Ọ̀pọ̀ èèyàn ló ń ra iru lọ́dọ̀ Iya-Oniru nítorí didára àti adùn iru rẹ̀, ṣùgbọ́n òun fúnra rẹ̀ kò jẹ́ olùfẹ́. Kò sí ẹni tó ní ọ̀rọ̀ rere nípa rẹ̀ níbikíbi tó bá lọ. Fún àpẹẹrẹ, ní ọjà tó ń tà á, àwọn olùrà àti alátà máa ń ṣàròyé nípa rẹ̀ nítorí ìwà rẹ̀ sí wọn, tí ẹnikẹ́ni bá sì gbìyànjú láti bá a wí, á di alágídí, á sì di aláìlọ́wọ̀.
“Èéṣe tí o fi ń ṣe aláìlọ́wọ̀ sí àwọn olùrà – paápáá nígbà tí wọ́n bá ń jà ọ lówó? O mọ̀ dáadáa pé báyìí ni nǹkan ṣe rí níhìn-ín. Yàtọ̀ síyẹn, o ń gbà wọ́n lówó púpọ̀,” alátakùn tó wà lẹ́gbẹ̀ẹ́ rẹ̀ béèrè lọ́jọ́ kan.
“Emi kò bìkítà nípa bí nǹkan ṣe rí níhìn-ín, èéṣe tí n kò fi gbà iye tí mo gbà? Ṣé iru mi kìí ṣe èyí tó dára jù níhìn-ín? Bí àwọn olùrà kò bá fẹ́ bí mo ṣe ń bá wọn sọ̀rọ̀, jẹ́ kí wọ́n lọ sí ibòmíràn. Gbà á tàbí fì í sílẹ̀, o mọ̀ bí,” Iya-Oniru dáhùn, ó gbọn èjìká láti fi hàn pé kò bìkítà nípa ohun tí alábàáṣiṣẹ́pò rẹ̀ ṣẹ̀ṣẹ̀ sọ.
“O ní ‘Gbà á tàbí fì í sílẹ̀!’, síbẹ̀ nígbà tí àwọn olùrà bá yí kúrò lọ́dọ̀ rẹ – lọ ra iru lọ́dọ̀ alátakùn mìíràn, inú rẹ̀ kìí dùn; o máa ń bínú. O tún máa ń di ẹlẹ́gàn, o sì máa ń bẹ̀rẹ̀ sí í lo èdè ìbànújẹ́. Ìgbà gbogbo ni o ń bá èèyàn jà. O mọ ohun tó ń ṣe ó? Ìbẹ̀rù ìdíje ló ń bà ẹ́!”
“N kò ní láti gbọ́ irú ọ̀rọ̀ báyìí rárá!”
“Dájúdájú kò!”
Àwọn alátà máa ń jẹ́ onífẹ̀ẹ́, aláyọ̀ – wọ́n máa ń fọwọ́ sowọ́ pọ̀ fún ara wọn. Wọ́n máa ń bára wọn ṣe pẹ̀lú ìbàlẹ̀ ọkàn, wọ́n sì máa ń fọ̀rọ̀ wérọ̀ fún ara wọn. “Àwọn alátà máa ń fi ìfẹ́ àti ìṣọ̀kan hàn,” àwọn èèyàn máa ń sọ nípa wọn.
Iya-Oniru kò ní nǹkankan nínú àwọn wọ̀nyí. Kò fẹ́ràn ẹnikẹ́ni rárá. Ní tòótọ́, kìí kí àwọn èèyàn, kìí sì í bẹ̀rẹ̀ kíkí. Èyí tó ṣe pàtàkì jù, kìí ṣe onínúure nípa tiwa. Ó tún le nínú èrò rẹ̀, ó jẹ́ oníwọra, kò sì bìkítà, èyí kò sì ràn lọ́wọ́ rárá. Àwọn èèyàn ń sọ̀rọ̀ nípa rẹ̀ lẹ́yìn: “Lójú rere, mo rò pé oníwọra ni, ó sì burú!” “Ó rò pé òun àti iru rẹ̀ ló ga jù!” “Gbogbo ohun tó ń kọ̀ wé owó ni, kò sì ní nǹkan mìíràn, oníwọra sì ni. Kò lè fi ohunkóhun rẹ̀ fún ẹnikẹ́ni rọrùn, paápáá owó!” “N kò rò pé ó bìkítà fún ẹnikẹ́ni – kódà kìí ṣe ẹbí rẹ̀!”
Iya-Oniru kò gbajúmọ̀ ní odò tó máa ń lọ fọ iru rẹ̀. Àwọn tó ń lo odò fún ète yìí máa ń jẹ́ onífẹ̀ẹ́ pẹ̀lú. Wọ́n máa ń fọ̀rọ̀ wérọ̀ fún ara wọn bí wọ́n ṣe ń ṣiṣẹ́ wọn, wọ́n sì máa ń ran ara wọn lọ́wọ́ tí wọ́n bá nílò. Iya-Oniru máa ń yẹra fún ara rẹ̀, gẹ́gẹ́ bí ó ṣe ń ṣe ní ọjà, kìí kí àwọn èèyàn, kìí sì í bẹ̀rẹ̀ rẹ̀. Ó ń bẹ̀rù pé kí àwọn tó wà níbẹ̀ má ba à ṣe é lọ́wọ́, kí ó sì ṣe àìṣọ́ra fún iru rẹ̀. “Mo gbọ́dọ̀ máa wo iru mi. N kò fẹ́ kí nǹkan kan ṣẹlẹ̀ sí wọn ní irú ibì yìí!”
Ọjà Gbaje, níbi tí Iya-Oniru ti ń ta iru rẹ̀, jẹ́ ọjà tó tóbi jù ní Makawa – kò sí irú rẹ̀ fún ọ̀pọ̀lọpọ̀ àwọn ọjà tí wọ́n ní níbẹ̀, tí kò sí ní àwọn ọjà mìíràn. Àwọn èèyàn máa ń wá láti ọ̀nà jíjìn láti ràjà níbẹ̀. Ṣùgbọ́n àkókò kan dé tí iru ṣòro láti rí nítorí kò tó igi iru tó ń so wọ́n, àìsí iru yìí dé ọjà Gbaje níkẹyìn. Ó bà àwọn èèyàn Makawa nínú jẹ́ nítorí iru jẹ́ èròjà pàtàkì nínú ọbè àti àṣáró, pàápàá efo àti efo riro; àwọn ìyàwó tó gbàgbọ́ pé ọ̀nà sí ọkàn ọkùnrin jẹ́ nípa ikùn rẹ̀ kò dùn mọ́ra.
“Kò sí iru? Báwo la ṣe lè se ìyẹ̀fúùfú láìsí iru, pàápáá efo riro?” ọ̀pọ̀ ìyálé ń ṣàròyé nígbà tí wọ́n lọ sí ọjà tí wọ́n sì sọ fún wọn pé èròjà pàtàkì yìí kò sí, àti nígbàkúùgbà tí àwọn alátà bá dámọ̀ràn àwọn nǹkan mìíràn, ìdáhùn ni: “Iru jẹ́ ẹ̀yà tirẹ̀. Kìí ṣe adùn nìkan, wọ́n tún dára fún ìlera.” Àwọn olùrà bẹ̀rẹ̀ sí í wá àwọn alátà tí iru ṣì wà lọ́wọ́ wọn, wọ́n sì múra tán láti san iye owó kíkan. Àwọn èèyàn ń bọ̀ láti ọ̀nà jíjìn láti ra iru lọ́dọ̀ àwọn alátà tí wọ́n ní ire láti máa bá a lọ ní iṣẹ́. Láàánú, àwọn alátà náà lo àǹfààní náà kìí ṣe láti fún iye owó wọn ní ìgbóná ṣoṣo, wọ́n tún lo onírúurú ọ̀nà ẹ̀tàn láti mú kí àwọn olùrà ra iru wọn. Fún àpẹẹrẹ, wọ́n á ṣe bíi pé iru wọn fẹ́rẹ̀ẹ́ tán nígbà tí kò tíì tán, kí olùrà lè ra púpọ̀ ju bí wọ́n ṣe pinnu lọ; wọn kìí fúnni ní “ina” (àfikún) nígbà tí wọ́n bá ń wọn iru fún oníbàárà – kódà kìí ṣe fún àwọn oníbàárà ìgbàgbọ́; wọ́n bẹ̀rẹ̀ sí í mú kí àwọn olùrà ra àwọn èròjà mìíràn pẹ̀lú iru.
Iya-Oniru jẹ́ ọ̀kan lára àwọn alátà iru tó ní ire tó bá a lọ ní iṣẹ́, òun àtàwọn mìíràn bí òun di ọlọ́rọ̀ gan-an; igi iru wọn kò gbẹ – ilẹ̀ rẹ̀ lọ́ràá – wọ́n sì ṣì ń so iru. Ní tòótọ́, wọ́n ṣe owó tó pọ̀ tó bẹ́ẹ̀ tí wọ́n fi gbàgbọ́ pé àwọn ló lọ́rọ̀ jù ní ìlú. Láàánú, ìṣẹ̀lẹ̀ àìròtẹ́lẹ̀ yìí nípa lórí ìwà ọ̀pọ̀ nínú wọn, kò pẹ́ tí wọ́n fi di “oníwọra” nítorí bí wọ́n ṣe ń ṣe owó ti pọ̀ sí i, bẹ́ẹ̀ náà ni wọ́n ń kórìíra fífi owó náà fún ẹnikẹ́ni. Iya-Oniru, tí kìí ṣe onínúure ní tiwa, tí ó sì ní ìtẹ̀sí oníwọra, di oníwọra pàápàá jù, bí àkókò ti ń lọ, ó sì ń burú sí i.
Iya-Oniru ṣe owó tó pọ̀ débi pé ó lè dá oko bàbá rẹ̀ padà sí ipò rẹ̀ àtijọ́, pẹ̀lú ọ̀pọ̀lọpọ̀ igi mìíràn tí wọ́n gbin yàtọ̀ sí igi iru tí kò gbẹ fún un nítorí ilẹ̀ lọ́ràá. Ó lè sanwó fún àwọn òṣìṣẹ́ púpọ̀ sí i dípò ẹnìkan tó ní ní oko, ó sì lè sanwó fún àwọn olùrànlọ́wọ́ ilé. Síbẹ̀, ní ti iru, òun fúnra rẹ̀ nìkan ló ń bójú tó wọn; kò lè gbẹ́kẹ̀ lé ẹnikẹ́ni nínú wọn.
Iya-Oniru kó ilé wọn lọ sí ilé nlá tó rà. “Nísinsin yìí tí Iya-Oniru ti ṣe owó tó pọ̀, tí ó sì ní àwọn tó ń ṣiṣẹ́ fún un, ẹnìkan ì bá rò pé yóò jẹ́ kí wọ́n fọ iru rẹ̀ fún un ní odò, kí wọ́n sì pèsè rẹ̀ fún ọjà,” àwọn kan ń sọ. “Bẹ́ẹ̀ kọ́! Yóò bẹ̀rù pé wọ́n á jí iru rẹ̀!” “Kí la wà fún tí a kò bá lè ṣe irú nǹkan tí kò nira báyìí fún ọ?” òṣìṣẹ́ kan béèrè lọ́jọ́ kan. “Kí ni! Nǹkan tí kò nira báyìí! Mo fẹ́ láti lọ fúnra mi. Ẹ lè ṣe àìṣọ́ra nígbà tí ẹ bá ń fọ iru, kí ẹ sì ṣí wọn sílẹ̀, èmi kò sì fẹ́ kí ọ̀kan ṣófo! Iru ọ̀kan jẹ́ owó, o mọ̀!”
Iya-Oniru máa ń bá a lọ láti lọ sí ọjà fúnra rẹ̀ bó tilẹ̀ jẹ́ pé ó lè sanwó fún ẹlòmíràn láti ṣe bẹ́ẹ̀, àti nígbàkúùgbà tó bá ní láti kúrò ní ibi tí ń tà, èyí tó ń rí i dájú pé kò ṣe lọ́pọ̀ ìgbà, á ṣe ìkìlọ̀ fún àwọn òṣìṣẹ́ rẹ̀: “Ẹ má fún ẹnikẹ́ni ní ‘ina’ bó tilẹ̀ jẹ́ pé iru kan ṣoṣo ni! Àwọn ìwọ̀n tí ẹ bá fi ń wọn iru gbọ́dọ̀ jẹ́ títẹ́, kìí ṣe kíkkún. Iru ti ṣówó púpọ̀! Má ṣe jẹ́ kí ẹnikẹ́ni tóó wọn iru kí ó tó ra àyàfi bí oníbàárà bá múra tán láti sanwó – bó tilẹ̀ jẹ́ pé iru kan ṣoṣo!” “Ẹ sì máa ṣọ́ra kí ẹ má bàa ṣí ọ̀kan sílẹ̀ nígbà tí ẹ bá ń wọn – kódà kí ọ̀kan má bàa ṣófo tàbí kí n gba owó rẹ̀ nínú owó iṣẹ́ yín! Mo ti ka gbogbo iru tó wà níbẹ̀, mo sì mọ iye tí ó fẹ́rẹ̀ẹ́ kún àwọn ìwọ̀n. Ẹ kò ní lè jí wọn!” á pariwo ní ìkìlọ̀.
Ìwà àṣejù Iya-Oniru nípa iru rẹ̀ ń burú sí i sí i. Lẹ́yìn ìgbà díẹ̀, ó dáwọ́ fífi iru sínú ọbè fún ìdílé dúró láti lè pọ̀ sí i nínú ọjà. Àwọn òbí rẹ̀, tí wọ́n ti mọ àìpé ọmọ wọn láti ìgbà èwe, tí wọ́n sì ti gbìyànjú láti dá wọn dúró, rí ìyípadà nínú rẹ̀, inú wọn sì bàjẹ́ gidi. “O ti gba iru lójú púpọ̀ jù. Owó kìí ṣe ohun gbogbo, o mọ̀. A máa ń kọ́ ọ láti bìkítà fún àwọn nǹkan mìíràn, pàápàá fún èèyàn, ìwọ kò sì tíì gbọ́ tíwa rí, nísinsin yìí o ti burú sí i!” “A mọ̀ pé o máa ń ṣiṣẹ́ takuntakun, o sì ní ìfọkànsìn, èyí sì ti mú ọ jìnnà, ṣùgbọ́n ní iye wo?” “Paápáá nísinsin yìí tí o lè jókòó kúrò nínú gbogbo iṣẹ́ tí o ń ṣe, kí o sì jẹ́ kí àwọn mìíràn ràn ọ́ lọ́wọ́, o kò lè nítorí pé èrò kan ṣoṣo ló wà lọ́kàn rẹ – bí o ṣe lè ṣe owó láti inú iru!” Iya-Oniru kò sọ ohunkóhun. Inú rẹ̀ máa ń wú láti sọ fún àwọn òbí rẹ̀ pé àìní rẹ̀, ìdílé ì bá kò ti dé ibi tí wọ́n wà nísinsin yìí, ṣùgbọ́n ó mọ̀ pé owó kò nípa lórí wọn rárá – kò nípa lórí wọn bí wọ́n bá di ọlọ́rọ̀ tàbí tálákà. Ó nípa lórí rẹ̀ púpọ̀, bí ó ti wù kí ó rí; kò lè gbàgbé pé òun ti ṣe owó, ó sì ń sọ fún ara rẹ̀ lẹ́ẹ̀kọ̀ọ̀kan pé “Mo lọ́rọ̀! Mo lọ́rọ̀, alátakùn nìkan ni mí!”
Àwọn òbí Iya-Oniru tún ń ṣàníyàn pé ọmọ wọn kò tíì lọ́kọọ́ títí di nísinsin yìí. Wọ́n mọ̀ pé kò gbajúmọ̀ lọ́dọ̀ àwọn ọkùnrin (àti àwọn obìnrin pẹ̀lú) – ìwà rẹ̀ máa ń mú wọn kúrò – àwọn òbí rẹ̀ sì rò pé nítorí tí òun ti burú sí i, kò ṣeé ṣe pé yóò rí ọkọ nísinsin yìí. Iya-Oniru kò dà bí ẹni pé ó bìkítà nípa rẹ̀. Àwọn èèyàn ń bá a lọ láti sọ̀rọ̀ nípa Iya-Oniru àti iru rẹ̀ lẹ́yìn; kò sí ẹni tó nífẹ̀ẹ́ sí nípa ohunkóhun nínú rẹ̀ pẹ̀lú owó rẹ̀, kò pẹ́ tí wọ́n fi di ẹlẹ́yàmẹ̀yà. “Ó ń di oníwọra sí i. Kò lè fi iru kan ṣoṣo rẹ̀ fún ẹnikẹ́ni!” aládùúgbò kan sọ fún òmíràn lọ́jọ́ kan. “Nǹkan kan gbọ́dọ̀ ṣe ó!”
Ó jẹ́ àṣà fún àwọn èèyàn Makawa láti lo odò tó sún mọ́ ilé wọn fún onírúurú nǹkan, bíi wíwẹ̀, fífọ aṣọ àti àwo, pípon omi, àti dájúdájú láti fọ nǹkan oúnjẹ bíi iru. Iya-Oniru ti ń kó iru rẹ̀ lọ sí odò kan tó sún mọ́ ibi tó ń gbé títí ó fi pinnu lójijì láti kó wọn lọ sí odò mìíràn, Odo-Alo, tí kìí ṣe ibi tí ọ̀pọ̀ èèyàn máa ń lọ.
Ní ọjọ́ wọ̀n-ọn-nì, kìí ṣe gbogbo odò, ní Makawa àti ní àwọn ibòmíràn, ni a kà sí lásán. Díẹ̀ lára wọn ni a kà sí àjèjì – mímọ́ àti àròbọ̀ – díẹ̀ sì ni a ń pè ní “odò abàmì”. Kò sí ẹni tó mọ bí odò kan ṣe di kíkà sí àjèjì tàbí “abàmì odò”, ṣùgbọ́n ọ̀pọ̀lọpọ̀ ìtàn ló wà nípa àwọn odò wọ̀nyí – nípa àwọn ìṣẹ̀lẹ̀ àràburú tí a gbàgbọ́ pé wọ́n ń ṣẹlẹ̀ níbẹ̀. Tí odò bá di kíkà sí kìí ṣe lásán tàbí “abàmì odò”, àwọn kan máa ń múra tán láti yẹra fún un. “Ọlọ́run má ṣe jẹ́ kí n lọ sí odò yẹn. Kìí ṣe odò lásán,” ni a máa ń gbọ́ ní Makawa. Kìí ṣe gbogbo èèyàn ló gbọ́ àwọn ìtàn wọ̀nyí, kìí sì ṣe gbogbo àwọn tó gbọ́ wọn ló gbà wọ́n gbọ́, ṣùgbọ́n ọ̀pọ̀ èèyàn máa ń yẹra fún irú àwọn odò bẹ́ẹ̀, àyàfi àwọn ìdíẹ̀ tí kò gba ìtàn náà gbọ́ tàbí tí wọ́n tako rẹ̀. Fún àwọn wọ̀nyí, àǹfààní tí wọ́n lè rí ní lílọ sí àwọn odò wọ̀nyí – bóyá láti lúwẹ̀ẹ́, pẹja tàbí pọn omi mímu – ju ìbẹ̀rù wọn lọ. Fún àpẹẹrẹ, díẹ̀ lára àwọn odò ní àgbo; àyíká àlàáfíà àti ẹwà wọn àti omi wọn tó mọ́ kedere ń ṣe iṣẹ́ ìyànǹu fún ìlera.
Àwọn èèyàn tó gbọ́ àwọn ìtàn náà, tí wọ́n sì gbàgbọ́ pé Odo-Alo kìí ṣe odò lásán, ní ìdààmú fún Iya-Oniru gan-an nígbà tí wọ́n gbọ́ pé òun ń kó iru rẹ̀ lọ fọ̀ọ́ níbẹ̀. “Nǹkan kan dájú ṣe ó!” Lílo Iya-Oniru sí Odo-Alo, “abàmì odò”, di ọ̀rọ̀ àwọn èèyàn ní àdúgbò rẹ̀. “N kò ní sún mọ́ odò yẹn rárá látàrí gbogbo ìtàn tí mo gbọ́ nípa rẹ̀!” ọ̀rẹ́ kan ń sọ fún òmíràn, nígbà tó gbọ́ nípa Iya-Oniru lílọ síbẹ̀. “Ṣùgbọ́n kò sí ẹni tó mọ̀ dájú bí àwọn ìtàn wọ̀nyí ṣe jẹ́ òótọ́.” “Mo ṣe kàyéfì ohun tí ó lè ṣẹlẹ̀ sí Iya-Oniru tí àwọn ìtàn kan bá jẹ́ òótọ́, tí ó sì bá a lọ láti kó iru rẹ̀ lọ sí Odo-Alo.” “Ó dára, bí àwọn ìtàn náà bá jẹ́ òótọ́ ní tòótọ́, ó dàlé irú ìwà tí ẹni tó bá lọ síbẹ̀ ní – lórí bí wọ́n ṣe máa ń hù sí ipò tí wọ́n bá wà, àbí bẹ́ẹ̀ kọ́? Kìí ṣe gbogbo ìtàn náà ni ó burú… àjèjì nìkan – mo ń sọ irú àwọn nǹkan tí àwọn èèyàn nínú ìtàn náà gbàgbọ́ pé wọ́n ṣẹlẹ̀. Lẹ́yìn náà, obìnrin yẹn fún àpẹẹrẹ, tí ‘igbakọ’ rẹ̀ ṣubú sínú odò tó sì lé e, di ọlọ́rọ̀ látàrí ìrírí rẹ̀, àbí bẹ́ẹ̀ kọ́?” “Bẹ́ẹ̀ ni, ṣùgbọ́n ‘ìyáálé’ rẹ̀ ní ìrírí tó yàtọ̀ pátápátá, àbí bẹ́ẹ̀ kọ́?”
Ìtàn tí wọ́n sábà máa ń sọ jù ni ti àwọn obìnrin méjì tí wọ́n fẹ́ ọkùnrin kan – “ìyáálé” àti “ìyàwó” àti ìforígbárí láàárín wọn. Ìyàwó lọ sí odò láti fọ àwo, ‘orogún’ rẹ̀ (‘ìyàwó kejì’) ‘igbakọ’ rẹ̀ sì ṣàn lọ pẹ̀lú omi tí ń yára. Ìtàn náà ṣàpẹẹrẹ bí ó ṣe pàdé apẹja àti lẹ́yìn náà obìnrin kan tí ọgbẹ̀ ńlá wà lẹ́sẹ̀ rẹ̀ (Iya-Elegbo), àti ìbáṣepọ̀ wọn tí ó mú un lọ sí àgbàlá kan níbi tí wọ́n ti sọ fún un pé kó ká eso pandoro – àwọn ‘tí ń dákẹ́’ kìí ṣe ‘kami-kami-kami’ (kámì-kámì tí ń dun). Ìyàwó ká àwọn eso tí ń dákẹ́ pẹ̀lú àbájáde tó wu ni. Ìyáálé pinnu láti gbìyànjú “orí tirẹ̀” ṣùgbọ́n ó ká àwọn ‘kami-kami-kami’ pẹ̀lú àbájáde tó burú jáì.
Bóyá Iya-Oniru ti gbọ́ àwọn ìtàn wọ̀nyí tàbí kò gbọ́, tàbí yàn láti gbà wọ́n gbọ́ tàbí kò gbà, ó bá a lọ láti kó iru rẹ̀ lọ sí Odo-Alo, láti fọ̀ọ́ kí ó tó pèsè rẹ̀ fún ọjà. “Ó dára, kò ní ní ohun tóun máa jèrè tàbí òun tóun máa pàdánù ní lílọ síbẹ̀, mo rò bẹ́ẹ̀. Lẹ́yìn náà kìí ṣe ẹni tó lè fò sínú odò lẹ́yìn iru, tó bá ṣí wọn sílẹ̀?” “Má ṣe dáhùn bẹ́ẹ̀! Iru yẹn ṣe pàtàkì jù fún un. N kò ní yà mí lẹ́nu tó bá lé ọ̀kan nínú wọn lọ títí dé òpin ayé!” “Má ṣe sọ ìwà ìbàjẹ́!”
Nínú ìtàn tí wọ́n sábà máa ń sọ jù, “ẹ̀dá” kan wà tó ní agbára àràburú tó ni Odo-Alo àti àyíká rẹ̀. “Ẹ̀dá” yìí ni wọ́n ń pè ní Yemọja tàbí Olùdá, òun sì ni ó ń rí sí gbogbo nǹkan tó ń lọ lọ́wọ́ níbẹ̀. Àwọn “ẹ̀dá” mìíràn wà tí wọ́n ní ìsopọ̀ pẹ̀lú rẹ̀. Lára wọn ni àwọn “ẹṣọ́”, bíi “ẹṣọ́ Yemọja”, àti àwọn ẹnìkọ̀ọ̀kan mìíràn tí wọ́ní agbára àràburú tí ara wọn, tí wọ́n lè ṣiṣẹ́ lọ́mìnira kúrò lọ́dọ̀ “onílé” odò. Kò sí ẹni tó mọ àwọn ẹnìkọ̀ọ̀kan mìíràn wọ̀nyí, tàbí bí wọ́n ṣe dé ibẹ̀, ṣùgbọ́n nígbàkúùgbà tí ohun iyebíye fún ẹnìkan bá ṣàn lọ pẹ̀lú omi jíjìn tó ń yára, tí ẹni náà bá sì ní ìbànújẹ́, tí ó sì fò wọ inú rẹ̀ lẹ́yìn rẹ̀, àwọn “ẹ̀dá odò” wọ̀nyí máa ń farahan bí ẹni pé láti ibi kọ́, wọ́n sì máa ń bá ẹni náà ṣe. Ìbáṣepọ̀ yìí ni a gbàgbọ́ pé ó máa ń wáyé nínú odò, tàbí ní àyíká odò, tí ó sì máa ń tan ìmọ́lẹ̀ sí àwọn apá kan ìwà ẹni náà. Àwọn kan gbàgbọ́ pé ìgbésí ayé kan wà lábẹ́ omi odò – pápá ọ̀tọ̀ọ̀tọ̀ pẹ̀lú oòrùn tó ń mọ́lẹ̀, lórí ilẹ̀ gbígbẹ.
Àwọn ìṣẹ̀lẹ̀ àràburú yóò tẹ̀le, tí yóò sì yọrí sí ìyípadà nlá nínú ìgbésí ayé ẹni náà. Ìyípadà náà lè jẹ́ tí a ń fẹ́ gan-an tàbí tí ó burú jáì. Àwọn kan nínú àwọn ìṣẹ̀lẹ̀ náà ni a gbàgbọ́ pé ó máa ń wáyé nínú àgbàlá tàbí ọgbà ńlá, tàbí ní ààfin, tí ó sì máa ń wé mọ́ kíkó eso pandoro tàbí fífúnni ní “ado”. Oríṣi méjì ni eso pandoro – àwọn tí ń dákẹ́ tí ẹ̀fúùfù líle kìí fẹ́ lù wọ́n, àti àwọn tí ń mú “kami-kami-kami” jáde nígbà tí ẹ̀fúùfù líle bá fẹ́ lù wọ́n.
“Ó dára, tí Iya-Oniru bá gbà nínú ìtàn wọ̀nyí tí ó sì ṣẹlẹ̀ pé ó ṣí iru rẹ̀ sínú odò lọ́jọ́ kan, ó lè fẹ́ fò wọ inú rẹ̀ lẹ́yìn wọn ní ríretí pé èyí yóò mú un lọ sí àwọn ‘eso pandoro tí ń dákẹ́’ tó sọ ìyàwó yẹn di ọlọ́rọ̀.” “Ṣùgbọ́n òun ti lọ́rọ̀ tẹ́lẹ̀. Dájúdájú, yàtọ̀ sí ‘ohun tó ṣọ́fò’ ti ẹni tó fò wọ inú odò lẹ́yìn rẹ̀ tí wọ́n rí lọ́pọ̀lọpọ̀ nínú ọ̀kan lára ‘eso tí ń dákẹ́’, ‘òjò àǹfààní’ tó wà nínú àwọn ‘eso tí ń dákẹ́’ mìíràn jẹ́ àwọn nǹkan tí Iya-Oniru ti ní tẹ́lẹ̀?” “Bẹ́ẹ̀ ni, àwọn ‘eso tí ń dákẹ́’ mìíràn ni a gbàgbọ́ pé wọ́n ń ṣí owó, aṣọ, wúrà, fàdákà àti àwọn okuta iyebíye, àti àìmọye àwọn ọjà ẹlẹ́wà àti iyebíye. Pàápàá, gẹ́gẹ́ bí ìtàn náà ṣe ń lọ, àwọn ọkùnrin díẹ̀ yóò farahan láti gbé àwọn nǹkan náà lọ sílé fún ẹni tó ní eso náà.” “Ó dára, Iya-Oniru dájúdájú ní gbogbo nǹkan wọ̀nyí – paápáá ọ̀pọ̀ èèyàn tó ń ṣe nǹkan fún un.”
“Ó dára, jẹ́ ká ní ìrètí pé ó ti gbọ́ àwọn ìtàn náà, nítorí tí kò bá gbọ́, mímọ̀ irú ẹni tó jẹ́ – oníwọra àti gbogbo rẹ̀ – ó lè pinnu láti ká ‘kami-kami-kami’, ìwọ sì mọ ohun tíyẹn túmọ̀ sí?” “Eso ‘kami-kami-kami’! Ọlọ́run mi! Wọ́n yẹ kí wọ́n ṣí gbogbo irú nǹkan ẹlẹ́gbin àti ewu bí ejò àti àkekèe, àti àwọn ẹranko ńláńlá mìíràn, àti àwọn kòkòrò olóró bí agbọ̀n àti oyìn!”
“Bẹ́ẹ̀ ni! Jẹ́ ká ní ìrètí pé ipò tó dára jù ló ń dúró dè Iya-Oniru tí ó bá ṣẹlẹ̀ pé ó ṣí iru rẹ̀ sínú odò tí ó sì pinnu láti lé wọn, tí kò sì tíì gbọ́ àwọn ìtàn wọ̀nyí rí! A kò fẹ́ kí ó bá òpin burúkú pàdé, àbí bẹ́ẹ̀ kọ́?” “Rárá o! Dájúdájú kọ́! Mo ṣe kàyéfì bí yóò ṣe hù sí àwọn ‘ẹ̀dá odò’ tí wọ́n mẹ́nu kàn nínú àwọn ìtàn náà paápáá kí ó tó yan láàárín ‘eso tí ń dákẹ́’ àti ‘kami-kami-kami’, tí àwọn ìtàn náà bá jẹ́ òótọ́ ní tòótọ́, tí Iya-Oniru sì bá ara rẹ̀ nínú ipò kan náà tí àwọn èèyàn nínú ìtàn wà!”
Àwọn “ẹ̀dá odò” tí wọ́n ní ìsopọ̀ pẹ̀lú Yemọja tàbí Olùdá sábà máa ń jẹ́ irú kan náà nínú àwọn ìtàn, bóyá àwọn ìṣẹ̀lẹ̀ náà wáyé nínú odò tàbí lóde – apẹja kan, arúgbó obìnrin tàbí ọkùnrin tí ọgbẹ̀ ńlá kan wà lẹ́sẹ̀ ọ̀tún rẹ̀ (Iya-Elegbo/Baba-Elegbo), ọkùnrin tí orí rẹ̀ dáńdáń, arúgbó obìnrin kan tó jókòó lẹ́bàá odò tó fẹ́ sọdá sí ìhà kejì, ṣùgbọ́n tó ń bẹ̀rù láti ṣe bẹ́ẹ̀, arúgbó obìnrin kan tó ní eyín tó tóbi bẹ́ẹ̀. Nínú ìtàn tí wọ́n sábà máa ń sọ jù nípa àwọn obìnrin méjì – “ìyàwó” àti “ìyáálé” rẹ̀, ìyàwó lẹ́yìn tí ó fò wọ inú odò lẹ́yìn ‘igbakọ’ ìyáálé rẹ̀ kọ́kọ́ pàdé apẹja kan tó ràn án lọ́wọ́ láti wá ‘igbakọ’ náà, lẹ́yìn náà arúgbó obìnrin kan (tàbí ọkùnrin arúgbó, nínú àwọn ẹ̀dà mìíràn) tí ọgbẹ̀ ńlá kan wà lẹ́sẹ̀ rẹ̀. Arúgbó náà fẹ́ kí wọ́n tọ́jú ọgbẹ̀ rẹ̀, ìyàwó kò sì ṣeé ṣe láti ṣe bẹ́ẹ̀, lẹ́yìn náà ni a darí rẹ̀ sí àgbàlá kan níbi tí wọ́n ti pè é láti ká díẹ̀ lára ‘eso pandoro tí ń dákẹ́’, nínú èyí tí ó rí gbogbo irú “ohun rere”. Ìyáálé ní ọwọ́ kejì, kò ṣeé ṣe fún apẹja àti arúgbó nígbà tó gbìyànjú “orí tirẹ̀”, ṣùgbọ́n arúgbó kò kíyèsí i. Ó ṣì ké sí ìyáálé pé kó ká àwọn ‘eso tí ń dákẹ́’, ṣùgbọ́n ìyáálé rò pé òun yóò jèrè púpọ̀ sí i láti inú àwọn ‘kami-kami-kami’. Àbájáde rẹ̀, dájúdájú, burú jáì.
Awe iru kan
Emi re la jo n lo
Bo o rokun
Emi re la jo n lo
Bo o rosa
Emi re la jo n lo
Awe iru kan
Emi re la jo n lo
Lójijì, ó rí ọkùnrin kan ní ìhà kejì odò tó sún mọ́ ibi tó wà, tó ń fi ọwọ́ rẹ̀ kọ̀wé, tó ń pè é. Ọkùnrin náà ti ń pẹja, ó sì ti gbọ́ orin rẹ̀. Ó rò pé àwo náà ti fò lọ sí ìhà rẹ̀ odò, tí ó sì fẹ́ dá a padà fún un. “Ṣé o ti rí àwo mi tí iru kan wà nínú?” ó béèrè, pẹ̀lú ìrètí kíkún. “Ṣé o dẹ́rù, obìnrin? O kò lè lúwẹ̀ẹ́ lẹ́yìn àwo iru kan nísàlẹ̀ odò jíjìn tó ń yára yìí, tí o sì tún lọ sí inú òkun tó wuwo jù! Ṣé o kò tíì ṣàkíyèsí àwọ̀ òkun – pé kìí ṣe àwọ̀ rẹ̀ lásán, ṣùgbọ́n aláwọ̀ ewé – ìwọ sì mọ ohun tíyẹn túmọ̀ sí? Bí àwọ̀ bá ṣe ń yí, bẹ́ẹ̀ ni omi ń ru sókè. Ìgbì… O fẹ́ pa ara rẹ́ nípa iru kan? Padà sílé! Yàtọ̀ síyẹn, ṣé o gbàgbọ́ lóòótọ́ pé o lè rí àwo náà, kì í ṣe iru náà tí omi ti gbé lọ?” “Bẹ́ẹ̀ ni, mo lè rí i tí ìwọ kò bá ti rí i tẹ́lẹ̀ tí o sì ń ṣe bí ẹni pé o ò mọ̀!” Iya-Oniru fi ẹ̀gàn dáhùn. Ọkùnrin náà mi orí rẹ̀ pẹ̀lú àánú, ó sì bá a lọ pẹja. Iya-Oniru bá a lọ lúwẹ̀ẹ́ nísàlẹ̀, ó ń wá àwo náà pẹ̀lú ìyọnu, ó ń kọ orin kan náà lẹ́ẹ̀kọ̀ọ̀kan, bí ẹni pé ó ti dàrú.
Lójijì, ó rí obìnrin kan tó ń lúwẹ̀ẹ́ wá sí i nínú omi. Ó gbọdọ̀ ti ń lúwẹ̀ẹ́ tó sì ti gbọ́ orin rẹ̀, ẹnu sì yà á gidi. “Ó gbọdọ̀ jẹ́ obìnrin oníwọra gan-an. Báwo lo ṣe lè lé iru kan, kìí ṣe nísàlẹ̀ odò yìí nìkan, ṣùgbọ́n títí dé òkun?” ó béèrè, ó fi ọwọ́ tọ́ka síbi òkun tí odò náà ń ṣàn lọ. “Kí nìdí tí o fi fẹ́ lé iru kan ṣoṣo nínú àwo ní odò yìí, tí o sì tẹ̀lé e lọ sí òkun?” ó tún fi ìyàlẹ́nu ṣàlàyé. “Ṣé o dẹ́rù? Ṣé o rò lóòótọ́ pé o lè rí irú nǹkan bẹ́ẹ̀? Iyà wo ni iru kan ṣe máa mú nínú ayé rẹ? Lọ sílé nísinsin yìí! Ìwọ yóò kú tí o bá tẹ̀ síwájú. Wò ó ní òkun! Omi yóò máa yí àwọ̀ padà, ìgbì yóò sì máa kọlu àpáta; wọn yóò ru sókè bí òkè ńlá – wọn yóò ga sí i sí i! Ṣé o kò bẹ̀rù pé ìgbì yóò gbẹ́ lọ? Obìnrin aṣiwèrè ni ẹ́!” “Èmi kò dẹ́rù. Èmi kò sì jẹ́ aṣiwèrè. Ṣé o kò mọ bí iru ti ṣówó tó? Mo ń lọ lẹ́yìn iru mi, ìwọ sì ń dá mi dúró pẹ̀lú gbogbo ọ̀rọ̀ rẹ. Jọ̀wọ́, bọ́ lọ́nà mi!” Obìnrin náà mi orí rẹ̀ pẹ̀lú àánú gan-an gẹ́gẹ́ bí ọkùnrin náà ti ṣe. Iya-Oniru kò fetí sí èyíkéyìí, wọ́n sì bẹ̀rù fún ẹ̀mí rẹ̀. Obìnrin náà bá a lọ lúwẹ̀ẹ́ ní òdìkejì Iya-Oniru, ìyókèèyàn sì bẹ̀rẹ̀ sí kọrin lẹ́ẹ̀kansi.
Bí ó ṣe fẹ́ lọ sí òkun, ó rí obìnrin kan nítòsí ibi tí odò pàdé òkun, tó ń gbé àwo omi ńlá kan. Ó gbọdọ̀ ṣẹ̀ṣẹ̀ pọn omi mímu ní àgbègbè kan tó sún mọ́ òkun, tí wọ́n mọ̀ fún ète yìí níbi tí omi ti mọ́ jù. Òun náà ṣẹ̀ṣẹ̀ gbọ́ orin Iya-Oniru, ó ń fi ọwọ́ rẹ̀ yẹpẹrẹ, ó sì ń yára sáré bọ̀ wá sí ọ̀dọ̀ rẹ̀. “O ò lè lọ lẹ́yìn iru kan nínú òkun – iru kan tí omi ti gbé lọ tipẹ́tipẹ́? Jẹ́ ká fohùn ṣọ̀kan pé ìwẹ̀ ló ń lọ. Bó tilẹ̀ jẹ́ pé o lúwẹ̀ẹ́ dáadáa – ó kéré tí kò tì í rì nínú odò – irú àǹfààní wo lo ní láti má rì nínú òkun?” “N kò mọ ẹni tí ìwọ jẹ́, àti kí nìdí tí o fi rò pé o mọ ohun tí mo ń ṣe àti ohun tí n kò ṣe níhìn-ín. Iru mi wà nínú òkun nísinsin yìí, mo sì ń lọ lẹ́yìn rẹ̀. Ṣé o kò gbọ́ ọ̀rọ̀ inú orin mi?” ó sì tún bẹ̀rẹ̀ sí kọrin:
“Ṣé iru kan ṣoṣo ló yẹ kí o fi ẹ̀mí rẹ̀ fòfò? Ìwọ àti èmi mọ̀ pé tí o bá lúwẹ̀ẹ́ nínú òkun yìí, dájúdájú o ó kú. Lọ sílé nísinsin yìí! Iyà wo ni iru kan ṣe máa mú nínú ayé rẹ?” “Ò ò mọ ohun tó ń sọ. Iru kan jẹ́ owó púpọ̀.” Iya-Oniru kò tẹ́tí sí ọgbọ́n, ó sì bá a lọ lúwẹ̀ẹ́ lọ sí òkun. Obìnrin náà mi orí rẹ̀ pẹ̀lú àánú, gẹ́gẹ́ bí àwọn mìíràn tí ṣáájú rẹ̀ ti ṣe, ó sì máa bá a lọ.
Nígbà tí Iya-Oniru wọ inú òkun, ó rí i pé ó jìnnà, omi sì ń yára gẹ́gẹ́ bí gbogbo èèyàn ṣe ń sọ, ó sì ṣòro láti lúwẹ̀ẹ́ níbẹ̀. Síbẹ̀, ó kọ̀ láti bẹ̀rù, ó sì bẹ̀rẹ̀ sí í wá àwo náà àti iru kan náà, ó ń tiraka láti má rì. Ó ń kọ orin náà lẹ́ẹ̀kọ̀ọ̀kan bí ẹni tí òun ò mọ ohun tó ń ṣe – bí ẹni pé ẹ̀mí rẹ̀ dà lórí i. Ojúkòkòrò ló ń darí rẹ̀, ó sì ti pàdánù èrò inú rẹ̀ pátápátá. Omi ru, ìgbì sì ń ru sókè sí i sí i, bí omi tó ń yára ṣe ń gbé e lọ sí i sínú òkun jíjìn. “Tí omi kò bá gbẹ́ mi lọ, ìgbì dájúdájú yóò gbé mí mì!” ó ronú bí ẹ̀rù ti ń gbá a mú. Ó tiraka láti má rì pẹ̀lú kò sí èrò mìíràn lọ́kàn rẹ̀ ju ìyẹn lọ – kò sí èrò nípa iru rẹ̀ mọ́. Kò wá àwo náà mọ́, kì í ṣe iru kan náà.
“Kí ni mo ṣe?” ó béèrè lọ́wọ́ ara rẹ̀ bí òye ohun tó fẹ́ ṣẹlẹ̀ ṣe ń yá a lẹ́sẹ̀. Ẹ̀dùn ọkàn kún inú rẹ̀, ó sì fẹ́ kí ó lè padà bọ̀ kí ó ṣàtúnṣe gbogbo àṣìṣe rẹ̀. “Èmi yóò kú, iru kan ṣoṣo nìkan ló sì fà á!” ó ṣàròyé. “Iru kan ṣoṣo!” ó rí i pé òun náà ń tún ọ̀rọ̀ tí àwọn mìíràn ti sọ fún un ṣe – “Iru kan ṣoṣo!” Iya-Oniru tiraka síwájú, ó ń gbìyànjú láti má rì, ṣùgbọ́n omi tó ń yára gbé e lọ sí i sí i, ìgbì sì ń bojú bojú mọ́ ọn, títí tí wọn kò fi rí i mọ́. Nígbà tí àwọn èèyàn Makawa gbọ́ nípa ipò rẹ̀, wọ́n ń sọ pé: “Egbeje ni! Iru kan ṣoṣo nìkan!” Èyí ni iye tí Iya-Oniru san fún jíjẹ́ oníwọra. Ó pàdánù orí rẹ̀ nítorí kò lè fi iru rẹ̀ fún ẹnikẹ́ni; ó tún pàdánù ẹ̀mí rẹ̀.
📜 A long, long time ago in Makawa – a town in a faraway land, there was a locust-bean seller (Iya-Oniru). Iya-Oniru was one of the sellers of the best quality and best tasting locust-beans. This was not surprising because she had grown up knowing everything there was to know about locust-beans. Her father had been a farmer who planted locust-bean trees among other things, and her mother had traded in the locust-beans and other produces from the farm. Iya-Oniru knew everything there was to know about locust-beans – from planting to harvesting, and the preparation of the beans for sale at the market. She knew how the best quality locust-beans were produced – about the kind of soil required, the weather conditions, and how and when to harvest them.
It was customary for locust-bean sellers to wash their locust-beans at rivers or streams. The preparation of the locust-beans for market which took place thereafter involved boiling the locust-beans properly – that is at the right temperature (not over-boiling or under-boiling them) – and then removing the actual locust-beans from their inner shells. It also involved preserving the locust-beans, which they did by putting them in calabashes or wrapping them in leaves, and storing them at the right temperature (not too hot) – so that they did not spoil.
“We’re also going to dry some of the beans you peel” her mother would add from time to time.
Iya-Oniru knew also that locust-beans – peeled from their outer shells – could be preserved for up to about a year by drying, before they were prepared for market, and she always made sure that she stocked dried locust-beans in addition to the fresh ones. Whenever she ran out of fresh locust-beans, she would fall back on her dried stock. They came in useful when locust-beans were not in season, or when there was a drought.
Iya-Oniru’s parents were now too old to continue their work – the father as a farmer, and the mother as a trader, and Iya-Oniru, their only child, had been managing both of their work as best as she could. They could not afford to do full-scale farming, so she had limited the farming to the planting of locust-beans, and reduced their farm-hands to one. She had continued, as her father used to, with planting and harvesting, grateful that she knew a lot about the kind of land locust-beans thrived on, the weather conditions, and how and when to pluck them.
Iya-Oniru had continued the work of her mother as a trader, but limited herself to selling just locust-beans at the market. She would take them to the river to wash, and then prepare them for sale at the market – just like she and her mother used to do. Just like she and her mother used to do, she also always made sure that she stocked dried locust-beans in addition to the fresh ones, so that if she happened to run out of fresh locust-beans, she would fall back on her dried stock. She was very hard-working, single-minded and determined to make the most of things.
Many people bought iru from Iya-Oniru because of the quality and taste of her iru, but she, as a person was not well-liked. Nobody seemed to have a good word to say about her anywhere she went. For example, at the market where she sold, buyers and sellers alike complained about her because of her behaviour towards them, and if anybody tried to call her to order she would become very defensive and rude.
“Why are you so rude to buyers – even when they just bargain with you? You know very well that this is how things are done around here. Besides you charge too much”, another locust-bean seller asked her one day.
“I don’t care how things are done around here, and why shouldn’t I charge what I charge? Are my locust-beans not the best around here? If buyers don’t like the way I speak to them, let them go somewhere else. ‘Take it or leave it’ you know”, Iya-Oniru answered, shrugging to show that she was not in the least bothered by what her colleague had just said.
“You say ‘Take it or leave it!’, yet when customers turn away from you – go and buy from another locust-bean seller, you’re not happy; you resent it. You also become nasty, and start using abusive language. You’re always quarrelling with people. You know what your problem is? You’re just afraid of competition!”
“I don’t need to listen to any of this!”
“Of course not!”
Market sellers were generally known to be a cheerful lot – to be supportive of each other. They interacted with each other in an amicable and cordial manner; they chatted amicably. “Market sellers exude camaraderie and solidarity”, people said of them.
Iya-Oniru was none of these things. She was most unfriendly. In fact, she hardly exchanged customary greetings with anyone, and would certainly not initiate them. What was more, she was not generous by nature. She was also rigid in her views, selfish and uncaring, which did not help matters. People gossiped about her: “Quite frankly I think she is stingy and mean!” “She thinks too much of herself and her locust-beans!” “All she cares about is making money, and nothing else, and she is stingy. She can’t part easily with anything, especially money!” “I don’t think she cares for anyone – not even her family!”
Iya-Oniru was not popular at the river where she took her locust-beans for washing either. Users of rivers for this purpose were generally known to be a cheerful lot as well. They chatted with each other in an amicable and cordial manner as they went about their work, and supported each other where necessary. Iya-Oniru kept to herself, the same way she did at the market, hardly exchanging customary greetings with anyone, and certainly not initiating them. She was afraid that she might be distracted by the others there, and be careless about her locust-beans. “I must keep my eyes on my locust-beans. I don’t want anything to happen to them in a place like this!”
The market where Iya-Oniru sold her locust-beans, Gbaje Market, was the biggest market in Makawa – unprecedented for its availability of a wide range of well-stocked goods not available at other markets. People came from far and near to shop there. However there came a time when locust-beans were very difficult to find because there were not enough locust-beans trees growing them, and this scarcity of locust-beans hit Gbaje Market eventually. It was disheartening for the people of Makawa because locust-beans were highly-related ingredient in soups and stews, especially efo or efo riro (vegetable) stews; wives who believed that the way to a man’s heart was through his stomach were not too happy.
“No locust-beans? How can we cook stews without locust-beans, especially efo riro?” many housewives complained when they went to market and were told that this important ingredient was not available, and whenever the sellers suggested alternative ingredients, the answer would be: “Locust-beans are a class of their own. It’s not just the taste, but they’re also very good for the health.” Buyers started to seek out sellers of locust-beans who still had them in stock, and were prepared to pay any amount of money for them. People came from far and near to buy locust-beans from these sellers who were lucky to still be in business. Unfortunately, the sellers took advantage of the situation not only to inflate their prices, but also to use all kinds of ploys to get buyers to buy their locust-beans. For example they would pretend that they were running out of stock when they were not, so that the buyer would buy more than originally intended; they would not give ‘ina’ (a little extra helping) when serving customers – not even to their regular customers; the measuring containers would be levelled as opposed to slightly heaped or heaped; they started making it compulsory for people to buy other ingredients with the locust-beans. “If you want to buy locust-beans you have to buy tomatoes, onions, pepper, garlic… as well”, they would say to customers, naming a host of other things.
Iya-Oniru was one of the lucky locust-bean sellers who continued in business, and she and others like her became very rich indeed; their locust-bean trees were not dried up – the soil being rich – and were still producing locust-beans. In fact, they made so much money that they were believed to be the richest in town. Unfortunately, this unexpected turn of events affected the character of most of them, and they were soon labelled as ‘stingy’, because the more money they made the more they hated parting with any of it. Iya-Oniru, who was ungenerous by nature, and who had the tendency to be stingy anyway became even more so, and as time went on, she got worse and worse.
Iya-Oniru made so much money that she was able to restore her father’s farm to its former glory, with so many other trees planted apart from the locust-bean trees which luckily for her had not dried up because of the rich soil. She was able to afford more staff instead of the one she had at the farm, and she could now afford to pay for house helps. Yet, as far as locust-beans were concerned she was the only one handling them; she could not trust anyone with them.
Iya-Oniru moved the family to a bigger house which she bought. “Now that Iya-Oniru has made so much money, and has people working for her, one would have thought that she would let them wash the locust-beans (iru) for her at the river, and prepare them for market”, some people were saying. “No way! She’d be afraid that they’d steal her locust-beans!” “What are we here for, if we can’t do a simple thing like that for you?” a worker said to her one day. “What! A simple thing like that! I prefer to go myself. You can be careless when you’re washing the locust-beans, and drop them, and I don’t want to lose a single one! One locust-bean is money you know!”
She continued to go to the market herself even though she could afford to pay someone else to do so, and whenever she had to leave her stall, which she made sure was not often, she would warn her workers: “Don’t give ‘ina’ to anyone even if it is just one iru! The measuring containers must be levelled not heaped when you’re serving the iru. Locust-beans are too costly! No question of tasting the iru either unless the customer is prepared to pay – even if it is just one iru!” “And you’d better be careful not to drop any of them when serving – not even a single one or I’ll take the money for it out of your salaries! I have counted all the locust-beans there, and I know roughly how many of them fill up the measurement tins. You won’t be able to steal them either!” she would shout in warning.
Iya-Oniru’s excessive behaviour vis-a-vis her locust-beans became worse and worse. After a while she stopped putting locust-beans in the stews for the family just to be able to increase her supply at the market. Her parents, who had been aware of their daughter’s shortcomings since childhood, and had tried to curb them, saw the change in her, and were deeply concerned. “You’re too preoccupied with locust-beans. Money is not everything you know. We’ve always taught you to care about other things, and especially about people, and you’ve never listened to us, and now you’ve got worse!” “We know that you’ve always been very hardworking and ambitious, and that this has got you far, but at what costs?” “Even now that you should sit back from all the work you’ve been doing and let others help you, you can’t because your only thought is how to make money from locust-beans!” Iya-Oniru said nothing. She was tempted to point out to her parents that without her the family would not have been where it was now, but she knew that money made no difference to them – it made no difference to them whether they were rich or poor. It made a lot of difference to her, however; she just could not get over the fact that she had made money, and she kept on saying again and again to herself “I’m rich! I’m rich, and I’m only a locust-bean seller!”
Iya-Oniru’s parents were also concerned that their daughter had never got married up till then. They knew that she had not been popular with men (and women for that matter) – her behaviour put them off – and her parents thought that since she had got worse and worse, it was most unlikely that she would find a husband now. Iya-Oniru did not seem to be bothered by it. People continued to gossip about Iya-Oniru and her locust-beans; nobody was impressed by anything about her including her money, and very soon she became a laughing-stock. “She’s more and more stingy. She can’t part with even a single locust-bean!” a neighbour said to another one day. “There must be something wrong with her!”
It was customary for the people of Makawa to use the nearest river to their homes for different purposes, including to bathe, wash clothes and dishes, fetch water, and of course to wash food items such as locust-beans. Iya-Oniru had been taking her locust-beans to a river that was very close to where she lived when she suddenly decided to take them to another river, Odo-Alo, not frequented by most people.
In those days not every river, in Makawa and elsewhere, was seen as ordinary. Some of them were seen as strange – sacred and mysterious even – and some were referred to as “odo abami”. Nobody knew how a particular river came to be seen as not ordinary or “abami odo”, but there were all kinds of stories being told about these rivers – about extraordinary events which were believed to take place there. Once a river if referred to as not ordinary or “abami odo” some people were ready to steer clear of it. “God forbid going to that river. It’s not an ordinary river”, was often heard in Makawa. Not everyone had heard these stories, and not everyone who had, believed them, but most people generally avoided such rivers, with the exception of a few individuals who either did not believe the stories or defied them. To these individuals the benefits they could derive from going to these rivers – perhaps to swim, fish or fetch drinking water – far outweigh any fears they might have about them. For example, some of the rivers have therapeutic properties; their peaceful and beautiful surroundings and their lovely and clear water worked wonders for the health.
People who had heard the stories, and believed that Odo-Alo was not an ordinary river were deeply concerned for Iya-Oniru when they learnt that she was now taking her locust-beans to wash there. “There’s definitely something wrong with her!” Iya-Oniru’s going to Odo-Alo, an “abami odo”, became much talked about in her neighbourhood. “I wouldn’t go anywhere near that river from all the stories I’ve heard about it!” a friend was saying to another, when he heard about Iya-Oniru going there. “But nobody knows for sure if these stories are true”. “I wonder what may become of Iya-Oniru if some of the stories are true, and she continues to take her locust-beans to Odo-Alo”. “Well if the stories are indeed true, then it depends on the kind of character the person who goes there has – on how they handle the situation they are faced with, not so? The stories are not all bad… just strange – I mean the kind of things the people in the stories are believed to have experienced. After all, that woman, for example, who dropped her ‘igbako’ (wooden scoop) in the river and went after it became rich from her experience, didn’t she?” “Yes, but her ‘iyaale’ had quite a different experience, didn’t she?”
The most frequently told story was that of two women married to the same man – ‘iyaale’ and ‘iyawo’ and the rivalry between them. The ‘iyawo’ went to the river to wash dishes, and her ‘orogun’ (‘rival wife’)’s ‘igbako’ got swept away by the swift running water. The story depicts her encounter with a fisherman and then a woman with a large wound (Iya-Elegbo), and her interaction with them leading to her being taken to a courtyard where she was told to pluck some pumpkin seeds – the ‘silent ones’ and not the ‘kami-kami-kami’ (‘pluck-me, pluck-me) ones. The ‘iyawo’ plucked the silent seeds with highly desirable results. The ‘iyaale’ decided to try “her own luck” but plucked the ‘kami-kami-kami’ seeds, with disastrous results.
Whether Iya-Oniru had heard them or not, or chose to believe them or not, she continued to take her locust-beans to Odo-Alo, to wash before preparing them for market. “Well, she has nothing to gain or lose by going there, I suppose. After all she’s not likely to jump into the river after locust-beans, if she were to drop them?” “Don’t be too sure about that! Those locust-beans are too precious to her. I wouldn’t be surprised if she chases just one of them to the end of the earth!” “Don’t be absurd!”
In the most frequently told story there was a ‘being’ with special powers who owned Odo-Alo and its surroundings. This ‘being’ was called Goddess of the River or Yemoja or the Creator, and she was in charge of everything that went on there. There were other ‘beings’ who were associated with her. Among them were ‘guards’, such as ‘eso Yemoja’, and other individuals with special powers of their own who could act independently of the ‘owner’ of the river. Nobody knew who these other individuals were, or how they came to be there, but whenever something valuable to someone got swept away by the deep, swift current, and the person, deeply distressed, jumped in after it, these ‘river individuals’ would appear as if from nowhere, and interact with the person. This interaction was believed to take place either inside the river, or at the area surrounding the river, and to throw light on aspects of the person’s character. Some people believed that there was a whole life under the river – lovely meadow with the sun shining brightly, on dry land.
Extraordinary developments would follow, leading to a dramatic change in the life of the person. The change could be highly desirable or disastrous. Some of the developments were believed to take place either in a courtyard or a big garden, or at a palace, and involve plucking pumpkin seeds (eso pandoro) by the person or being given a marble (ado). There were two types of pumpkin seeds – the silent ones which were never blown by the strong wind, and the ones which emitted the sound ‘kami-kami-kami’ when blown by the strong wind.
“Well, if Iya-Oniru believes any of these stories and happens to drop her locust-beans in the river one day, she may want to jump in after them hoping that this would lead her to those famous ‘silent pumpkin seeds’ that made that ‘iyawo’ rich”. “But she is rich already. Surely, apart from the ‘lost item’ of the person who jumps into the river after it which is found en masse in one of the ‘silent pumpkin seeds’ the ’shower of goodies’ found in the other ‘silent seeds’ are things Iya-Oniru has got already?” “Yes, the other ‘silent seeds’ are believed to reveal money, clothes, gold, silver and precious gems, and countless of lovely and valuable goods. What’s more, as the stories go, a few men would appear to carry the things home for the owner of the seeds.” “Well, Iya-Oniru certainly has all these things – even many people to do things for her.”
“Well, let’s hope she has heard the stories, because if not, knowing the kind of person she is – greedy and all that – she might decide to pluck the ‘kami-kami-kami seeds, and you know what that means?” “The ‘kami-kami-kami” seeds! My goodness! They are supposed to reveal all kinds of horrible and dangerous things like snakes and scorpions, and other reptiles, and poisonous insects like wasps and bees!”
“Yes! Let’s hope that a better plight awaits Iya-Oniru if she happens to drop her locust-beans in the river and decides to chase after them, and she hasn’t heard any of these stories before! We don’t want her to come to a horrible end, do we?” “No! Of course not! I wonder how she would react to the ‘river individuals’ referred to in the stories even before she gets to chose between the ‘silent seeds’ and ‘the kami-kami-kami’ seeds’, if the stories are indeed true and Iya-Oniru finds herself in the same situation as the people in the stories!”
The ‘river individuals’ associated with Yemoja or the Goddess of the River or the Creator were generally the same type in the stories, whether the events took place inside the river or outside – a fisherman, an old woman or man with a very big sore on her/his right leg (Iya-Elegbo/Baba-Elegbo), a bald-headed man, an old woman sitting at the bank of the river who had wanted to cross to the other side, but was afraid to do so, an old woman with such large teeth. In the most commonly told story about two women – ‘iyawo’ and her ‘iyaale’, the ‘iyawo’, after jumping in the river after her ’iyaale’’s ‘igbako’ first came across a fisherman who helped her search around for the ‘igbako’, and then an old woman (an old man, in some versions) with a very big sore. The old woman wanted her sore tended to, and the ‘iyawo’ did not hesitate to do so, and after that the latter was directed to a courtyard where she was invited to pluck some ‘silent pumpkin seeds’, in which she found all kinds of ‘goodies’. The ‘iyaale’ on the other hand, was ungracious to both the fisherman and the old woman when she ‘tried her own luck’, but the old woman overlooked this. She still invited the ‘iyaale’ to pluck the ‘silent seeds’, but the latter thought that she would benefit much more from the ‘kami-kami-kami’ seeds. The result was, of course, disastrous.
Awe iru kan (A piece of locust-bean)
Emi re la jo n lo (We’re both going together)
Bo o rokun (Whether it goes into the sea)
Emi re la jo n lo (We’re both going together)
Bo o rosa (Whether it goes into the lagoon)
Emi re la jo n lo (We’re both going together)
Awe iru kan (A piece of locust-bean)
Emi re la jo n lo (We’re both going together)
Suddenly she caught sight of a man at another side of the river close to where she now was, beckoning to her. The man had been fishing, and had heard her song. She thought that the bowl had drifted to his side of the river, and that he was about to return it to her. “Have you found my bowl of one locust-bean then?” she asked him, full of hope. “Are you out of your mind, woman? You can’t swim after a bowl of locust-bean down this deep and swiftly flowing river, and then on to the sea which is even more dangerous! Haven’t you noticed the colour of the sea – that it’s not quite its normal colour, but is a yellowish-green – and you know what that means? The more the colour changes the more troubled the waters become. The waves… You want to kill yourself over one locust-bean? Go back home! Besides, do you seriously believe that you can still find the bowl, not to talk of the locust-bean which would have been washed away?” “Yes, I can still find it if you haven’t already done so and are just pretending!” Iya-Oniru said contemptuously. The man shook his head with pity and continued with his fishing. Iya-Oniru continued to swim downstream, searching frantically for the bowl, singing the same song again and again, as if she had taken leave of her senses.
Suddenly she saw a woman swimming towards her in the water. She must have been swimming and heard her song, and she was deeply shocked. “You must be a very stingy woman. How could you chase one locust-bean, not only down this river, but to the sea?” she asked pointing in the direction of the sea which the river ran into. “Why would you want to chase a single locust-bean in a bowl in this river, and follow it to the sea?” she rephrased in wonder. “Are you crazy? Do you seriously think that you can find such a thing? What difference would one locust-bean make to your life? Go home now! You’ll die if you continue further. Look across at the sea! The waters will continue to change colour, and the waves will crash on the rocks; they will rise like mountains – higher and higher! Are you not afraid that the waves would sweep you away? You’re a very foolish woman!” “I’m not crazy. I’m not foolish either. Don’t you know how expensive locust-beans are? I’m going after my locust-bean, and you’re holding me back with all your talk. Get out of my way, please!” The woman shook her head with pity just like the man had done. Iya-Oniru would not listen to reason, and they were afraid for her life. The woman continued her swimming in the opposite direction to Iya-Oniru and the latter started to sing again:
As she was about to make for the sea, she saw a woman near where the river joined the sea, carrying a large container of water. She must have just fetched drinking water at an area close to the sea, known for this purpose where the water was the clearest. She too had just heard Iya-Oniru’s song and was waving frantically and rushing towards her. “You are not seriously going to chase after a locust-bean in the sea – a locust-bean that has long been swept away by the river? Let’s just agree that you’re out for a swim. Even if you’re a good swimmer – at least you’ve not drowned in the river – what chances do you have of not doing so in the sea?” “I don’t know who you are, and why you think you know what I’m doing, and what I’m not doing here. My locust-bean is now in the sea, and I’m going after it. Didn’t you hear the words of my song?” she said, and started singing again:
“Is it worth losing your life over one locust-bean? You and I know that if you swim in this sea, you’re surely going to die. Go home now! What difference would a single locust-bean make to your life?” “You don’t know what you’re saying. One locust-bean is a lot of money.” Iya-Oniru refused to listen to reason and continued to swim towards the sea. The woman shook her head with pity, just like others before her had done, and went on her way. Once in the sea Iya-Oniru found that it was deeper and more swiftly flowing than the river just like everyone had been saying, and that it was more difficult to swim there. However, she refused to be scared, and started searching for the bowl and the locust-bean, struggling to keep afloat. She kept on singing the song again and again as if demented – as if her life depended on it. She was driven by greed, and had lost all reason. The water looked turbulent and the waves rose higher and higher, as the swift current took her further and further into the deeper part of the sea. “If the current doesn’t sweep me away, the waves will surely swallow me up!” she thought as fear seized her. She struggled to keep afloat with no other thoughts in her head than that – no thoughts of her locust-beans. She was not even searching for the bowl any more, not to talk of the one locust-bean.
“What have I done?” she asked herself as realization of what was about to happen dawned on her. She was full of regrets and wished she could go back and undo all she had done wrong. “I’m going to die, and just because of one locust-bean!” she lamented. “Just one locust-bean!” she found herself repeating – just like others had said to her. Iya-Oniru struggled on, trying to keep afloat, but the swift current took her farther and farther away, the waves enveloping her, until she was seen no more. When people in Makawa learnt about her plight, they kept on saying: “What a waste! Just one locust-bean!” This was the price Iya-Oniru had to pay for being stingy. She lost her head because she could not part with any of her locust-beans; she also lost her life.
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