21. Ijapa (Tortoise) and Iya-Alakara (Akara Seller)

A very, very long time ago, there was a female akara (beans-based food) seller (Iya-Alakara) who lived in Eweko, the same town as a tortoise (Ijapa), in a faraway land. At that time the world was very different from the way it is today. Human beings and animals had a lot in common. They lived side by side, intermingling freely. Animals spoke like humans, and generally behaved the same way – some animals possessing remarkable physical and mental capabilities. The tortoise, Ijapa, is an example of this phenomenon. It is not surprising that animals were often referred to as humans.

Everyday Iya-Alakara would fry ‘akara o l’ ororo’ (akara made with groundnut oil) for sale, in her stall, in front of her house. She was the most popular akara seller around; with her mouth-watering, delicious smelling akara, there was always a queue in front of her stall. People came there from far and near to buy from her. One day Iya-Alakara overheard two people complaining about the long queue.
“Iya-Alakara should hawk her akara in the streets as well, like others do, you know. I can’t come and queue here, everyday, and I’ve no one to send” said one of the people.

“I agree with you. I’ve been thinking of not bothering to come here anymore, and just buying my akara from one of the street hawkers near my home” the other person replied.

“Yes, but their akara is nothing compared with this one. Just waiting in this queue, the aroma is making my mouth water so badly…” the first person pointed out, laughing.

“Please don’t go anywhere else!” Iya-Alakara implored them. I’ll find a solution”.

Iya-Alakara decided to let her daughter hawk some of the akara in the streets – on her head, as was the custom among sellers – in order to make it more accessible to people who could not come to her stall.

“Make sure you sell all the akara before coming home!”, she warned her daughter when she sent her out the first time, one morning. Her daughter might decide that she was tired of going around, and might sit down somewhere to play. After all, was she not young and carefree?
Iya-Alaka did not need to worry about anything like this happening. After hawking the akara around the town, passing by Ijapa’s front yard en route, Iya-Alakara’s daughter (referred to as Ọmọ-Alakara) would cross over to nearby villages. Within a short time, the akara would be sold out, and the girl would return home, only to be sent out with some more akara. Ọmọ-Alakara made at least two rounds everyday.

Ijapa could not resist the aroma of the akara each time Ọmọ-Alakara passed by, but he had no money to pay for some.
“What a pity! Akara is one of my favourite foods, especially akara o l‘ororo (akara fried with groundnut oil). I just love it” he would often say with regrets, his mouth watering.

Now Ijapa did not have any money because he was too lazy to do any serious work, or even look for any work to do. When he woke up in the morning, he had nothing to do, nowhere to go. He just lazed around all day, dropping in on people to get a bite to eat. He generally relied on the kindness of others (eg friends and neighbours) or on tricking them to obtain food for himself and his family.

Ijapa’s laziness and other faults had caused a great deal of problems for him in the past. It had led, above all, to his wife, Yannibo, leaving him, when they were living in Teregun, with the children, to go and live with her parents, just outside Teregun.

Although they were now back together, it was doubtful if Yannibo would want to remain with him if he carried on as he was doing. How often had he received punishments, personal injury (sometimes severe), or been driven away from where he lived for his misdeeds. Some of the misdeeds had been almost fatal to others and to himself? Sometimes he would leave where he lived of his own accord, disgraced and ashamed after one of his escapades.

“Ijapa had better pull himself together and find work. Since we came to Eweko, apart from that money we made from Ijapa’s music at that nearby town, he hasn’t earned anything although he’s been promising to do so. It looks as if he’s gone back to his old tricks, and we’ve now run out of money. Pity I myself can’t find anything to do in Eweko to bring in money…Ijapa had better behave himself in other ways as well, or I may just have to leave him again…!”

Ijapa was a wily creature, full of mischief and pranks, often boasting that he could find solutions to any problem; he was a trickster who obtained things even humans could not through ruse, but despite his faults he was very popular in some quarters – among humans and animals alike. He was resourceful and resilient which others find admirable. He was also witty and could be relied upon to make others laugh, especially when he tried to be too clever and fell flat on his face. Perhaps these aspects of his character were not unconnected with why Yannibo agreed to take Ijapa back.

Ijapa did not want to push his luck (as far as being lazy was concerned) when Yannibo agreed to take him back and was in the process of going back to farming which he had done before, when famine broke out in Teregun.

Unfortunately, Ijapa’s other faults had not left him, as much as he had tried to shake them off. He was caught at a farm in another town where he had gone to steal yams with a dog, Aja. Ijapa was punished by the Ọba of that town, and he and his family driven away by the Ọba of his town, Teregun. Yannibo, though not happy with what had happened, nevertheless overlooked it because “Ijapa’s shameful behaviour was motivated by the need for the family to survive in the face of the famine” she had thought. Besides, she could not go back to live with her parents since her parents lived just outside Teregun, the town which Ijapa and his family had been driven away from.

So Yannibo did not abandon Ijapa but came with him to live in Eweko – to start all over again.

Iya-Alakara had sold some akara to Ijapa a few times without charge. However, when the woman realized how lazy Ijapa was, and that he had no intention of ever paying her (since he had no intention of doing any work), she had withdrawn this kind gesture.

“I can’t let you taste any more of my akara unless you pay me” she had warned Ijapa.

Ijapa knew that Iya-Alakara would have warned her daughter not to sell akara to him, gratis, so there was no point in trying his luck with the latter.

Every morning when Ọmọ-Alakara passed by Ijapa’s front yard, hawking her akara:

“Akara o l’ororo re o! O gbo na lau lau. O nta sansan. Ẹba mi ra akara mi o!” (Here is akara olororo! Piping hot! Delicious aroma! Come and buy my akara o!)

Ijapa’s mouth would water as his nostril was filled with the delicious aroma of the akara.

“How am I going to eat some of this akara without paying anything?” he wondered. He weighed it up again and again in his mind.

Now Ijapa was good at drumming; he could also sing, but not many people knew this. Those who did, like Yannibo, often wondered why he could not make his living this way, instead of using it to trick people, like he tricked Iya-Ẹlẹpa (a roasted groundnut seller) in order to steal from her. His music was known to draw people onto the dance floor instantly; it was diverting, riveting, almost magical.

Ijapa woke up one morning to the delicious aroma of akara which almost drove him crazy, and wondered yet again, as he had done for days, how he was going to get his hands on some. Then he remembered an incident – one night when some people in a nearby town, had danced to his music. He had gone to this town where the people were very prosperous and was canvassing for food etc when he came up with an idea: to make a drum and flutes from a giant rat’s skin and bones respectively.

Ijapa had gone back to Eweko, told Yannibo his plan excitedly, and asked her to go to the town with him – the children as well.

“But the children and I don’t know how to play the flute, Ijapa!”

“Don’t worry. I’ll teach you!” Ijapa had said.

Yannibo was not convinced, but was thinking:

“Ijapa wants to do something. At least, that makes a change!”

“But where are we going to stay?”

“That’s no problem. I have already made some friends there.”

That was not surprising. Despite his faults Ijapa was very popular in some quarters – with humans and animals alike; he made friends easily.
So Yannibo and the children had gone to the nearby town with Ijapa. After having the drum made Ijapa had gone out at night, to the town centre, to a square packed with people, and started to play his drum. Whilst he himself played his drum, his wife and children played the flutes. At the sound of the drum and flutes the townspeople left whatever they were doing, and began to dance, for they could not resist the music. It was diverting.

The people danced until they were exhausted, but still continued to dance. It was as if they had lost their senses. As dawn was approaching it was Ijapa himself who advised the townspeople to go home, and as they left, they thanked him for entertaining them, and showered him and his family with gifts, money, food, etc.

As Ijapa was recalling this incident, an idea suddenly came to him. He decided to tell Yannibo about it, but not the full details of what he had in mind. Yannibo would not have approved!

“You remember that night at that town’s square we went to, when the people danced and danced to the drum and the flutes that we played…?” Ijapa asked his wife.

“Yes, and they left whatever they were doing to dance because they enjoyed our music so much”.

“Exactly! They even thanked us, and gave us food, money, and gifts, etc” Ijapa replied, excitedly.

“Well, I’ve been thinking…Perhaps I can make a living out of drumming and singing!”

“I’ve thought about it more than once myself, and I don’t see why not? Perhaps the children and I can practise playing the flutes and join you!” Yannibo answered, happy that Ijapa was considering doing something for a change. Unfortunately making a living out of drumming and singing was far removed from Ijapa’s mind; it was a lie. He was too lazy to do so. He just wanted some of Iya-Alakara’s akara but did not want to let on.

“If I were to come up with something along the same lines as what we did at that town, I’m sure it will work on the people here as well. Take Ọmọ-Alakara for example. I’m sure I can get her to put down her akara tray and dance, and others around her to join in as well. I’m sure she’ll give us out of her akara, and the others will give us money, presents, and other things. If those townspeople got totally carried away just listening to our music that night, our townspeople should do so as well – from listening to my drumming and singing!”

Yannibo laughed. Little did she know that what Ijapa had in mind was far more than what he had just said – that Ijapa was, in fact, thinking:

“I need to get my hands on Ọmọ-Alakara’s akara! But am I going to take the akara away? Surely not in full view of her and everyone around?”

“Aha! Of course!” Ijapa thought, as he remembered that he had done something similar before, and it had worked perfectly. It was when he was living at Magunwa, a long time before. There was this roasted groundnut seller (Iya-Elẹpa) in a market in a nearby town, and Ijapa wanted to lay his hands on the woman’s groundnuts. So, he had used drumming and singing to lure the woman away from her stall, and subsequently all the market people away their stalls.

“I could do the same to Ọmọ-Alakara. Perhaps if I were to sing her mother’s praises – praise her mother and her akara – this’ll go to her head. She could very well forget herself and put her akara tray down to dance, when she hears the drumming and singing, and her mother’s akara being praised in a song suddenly, from nowhere. Flatteries go to people’s heads…”

“If I vary the sound of the music – from high to low and vice versa – she’s bound to wonder, like Iya-Ẹlẹpa must have done, where the music is coming from, see it as a mystery. This should spur her to dance away from the akara tray in search of where she thinks the music is coming from.”

Ijapa paused to think more about it. The fact that he had been caught eventually that other time, when he tricked Iya-Ẹlẹpa, and that he might still be caught this time did not stop him from making plans – from planning how to lay his hands on the Iya-Alakara’s akara.

“Yes! The whole thing will be mysterious and enticing to Ọmọ-Alakara!” he said to himself again. “She may even want to share the experience with others or show off her dancing” Ijapa thought excitedly.

“All I have to do is to choose the right time and place – somewhere where there’s no one around. I’ll have to hide, of course. One minute she’ll hear the music and singing from nowhere. The next minute she’ll be dancing away, and if the music gets into her head, she may move away from the spot, and perhaps dance in the direction she takes everyday when hawking” he continued to think.

“Anyway, there’s no harm in trying out the trick. If it works, and I can sustain it for a few days, how wonderful that would be!” He remembered the delicious taste and the aroma of the akara and was more determined to go ahead with his plan.

“As long as I’m not caught this time. That last time wasn’t funny at all…all those bruises, wounds – the excruciating pain, …” Ijapa groaned, as if he was feeling the injuries that he had sustained all over again. “But then I didn’t have this hard shell at my back then” he reminded himself and felt calmer.

The following day, Ijapa made up his mind to trail Ọmọ-Alakara around while she hawked her akara on her head, passing by his abode, on her way to a nearby village, to know her daily route. As soon as he heard the usual:

“A l’akara ororo re o! O gbono lau lau. O nta sansan. Ẹba mi ra akara mi o!”

Ijapa trailed her, until he knew the route. He then came back home to make preparations for outwitting her, getting his drum ready to use for this wicked trick – which Yannibo and the children knew nothing about!

Early the following morning Ijapa took the drum and hid among high grasses and bushes near the road Ọmọ-Alakara always took to the nearby village – a short cut not used by many people that time of the morning; he would not be seen here. It was not long before he heard the usual:

“A l’akara olororo re o! O gbo na lau lau, o nta sansan. Ẹ ba mi ra akara mi o!”

Immediately Ijapa started to drum, and to sing a very sweet, a very melodious, and diverting song that went as follows:

Ọmọ-Alakara could not resist the sound of the drumming and the singing which was riveting. She heard the drumming and the lovely song about her mother’s akara. She put down her tray, tapped her feet to the music, wondering where it was coming from. As the sound of the music fluctuated – from high to low and vice versa – Ọmọ-Alakara started to dance away from her akara tray. She was so pleased and flattered to hear her mother (and by association, herself) and their akara being praised.

“What’s this I’m hearing about us, about Mother – about our akara being delicious. How extraordinary! Where’s the music coming from? This must be magic. I haven’t heard anything like this before…!” she was thinking, not knowing that Ijapa had played similar tricks on someone else before in another town. The tune of the hypnotic song backed up with the drumming was intoxicating.

Ọmọ-Alakara got so carried away that she started dancing away from the scene, just like Ijapa had predicted. Whatever her reasons or thoughts were, she danced in the direction of the nearby village, and it seemed as if she could still hear the drumming and singing in her head for quite a while longer.

Ijapa lost no time leaving his hiding place – in carrying the whole of the igba akara (akara tray) to his house, pretending to Yannibo that his plan had worked and that Ọmọ-Alakara had let him have the akara. He ate the akara with his wife and children.

“How extraordinarily kind of her! But surely, she shouldn’t have done that without the consent of her mother. Supposing she gets into trouble?” Yannibo said. She did not suspect Ijapa, yet there was something that nagged at her.

After some time Ọmọ-Alakara came to her senses when she saw people staring at her in the street. She rushed back to where she left her akara tray, and found it gone.

“Oh! What am I going to say when I get home. Mother will never believe me when I tell her what happened to me”.

Ọmọ-Alakara got home, and immediately her mother took one look at her, she exclaimed:

“What’s going on? Where’s the akara tray?”

Ọmọ-Alakara recounted the whole incident to her mother who was shocked and displeased by the turn of events.

“What do you mean by you just found yourself dancing and dancing? What nonsense! I knew it. You can be so playful at times. But I warned you…” she said in anger. Then a thought struck her.

“Perhaps she’s pulled a fast one on me. Since the akara usually sells very quickly, perhaps she decided, this time round, to throw the tray away and keep the money.”

“Surely not my daughter? She’s really a good girl. She’s never given me any cause to doubt her” Iya-Alakara told herself, calming down.

“You’ll go back tomorrow. Make sure the same thing doesn’t happen. Otherwise… You’ll se what happens if you come back home empty-handed” she threatened.

“Mother, I’m telling you the truth. I just heard this music, this drumming and singing, from nowhere, and started to dance. The tune, the words of the song were out of this world. I just don’t know what came over me – how it happened. It could be magic!”

“Nonsense! What magic!” Iya-Alakara replied in disgust.

When the same thing happened again the following day, Iya-Alakara was alarmed rather than angry. The matter weighed down heavily on her mind.

“Something is seriously wrong here. What do I do?” Then an idea struck her.

“Let’s go and see Kabiyesi (the Ọba – ruler in the human kingdom). He must be told about this. He’s the only one who can sort it out. Isn’t he there for solving all kinds of problems?” Iya-Alaka said to her daughter, dragging her along with her. “After all the Ọba has always made it known that we should come and report anything to him that we’re not happy about – no matter how small.

In those days the Ọba played a big role in the day-to-day lives of his people. He was always the first port of call. People looked to him to resolve matters for them, including petty quarrels, disputes of any sort – no matter how small and inconsequential. He was known to be ready to find solutions to problems that baffled his people – to mysteries of any kind. That was how the incident involving Ijapa and Iya- Ẹlẹpa (and her stolen groundnuts) had been brought before the Ọba of Magunwa at that time.

“Kabiyesi!” Iya-Alakara said, kneeling before the Ọba, when she and her daughter got to the palace. “Please help us solve this mystery”, she begged, after recounting the whole incident to him. “Otherwise I shall lose my livelihood”.

“Hum!” the Ọba said, after listening carefully to the woman. “This is strange…Don’t worry. We’ll get to the bottom of it. Just fry some more akara tomorrow morning and let your daughter hawk it around on her head, as she usually does, taking the same route. My courtiers (ijoye) and I will drop by at the scene”.
As soon as it was morning Iya-Alakara and her daughter got dressed and went to the actual area where the drumming and singing had taken place the previous days.

“Start hawking!” Iya-Alakara ordered her daughter, lagging behind – hiding behind a tree.

“A l’akara olororo re o! O gbo na lau lau, o nta sansan. Ẹ ba mi ra akara mi o!”

Ọmọ-Alakara had hardly said this when they heard drumming and singing. As usual, Ijapa, who had hidden away at the same place as before, was singing:

Tani npe Iya-Alakara se re?
Iya-Alakara Who’s calling Iya-Alakara for fun?
Tani npe Iya-Alakara se re
Iya-Alakara
O nta sansan si mi n’imu The delicious aroma of the akara is filling my nostrils
Iya-Alakara
O nta gẹgẹ si mi l’ọfun It is making my mouth water
Iya-Alakara
Tani npe Iya-Alakara se re?
Iya-Alakara
Tani npe Iya-Alakara se re
Iya-Alakara
Ẹ ma pe Iya-Alakara se re
Iya-Alakara
Ẹ ma pe Iya-Alakara se re
Iya-Alakara
O nta sansan si mi n’imu The delicious aroma of the akara is filling my nostrils
Iya-Alakara
O nta gẹgẹ si mi l’ọfun It is making my mouth water
Iya-Alakara
Ẹ ma pe Iya-Alakara se re
Iya-Alakara
Iya-Alakara did not know when she left her hiding place to join her daughter who had started to dance. At that moment the Ọba and his courtiers arrived on the scene.

The Ọba himself was the first to start dancing, taken aback by this very lovely and hypnotic music. The tune of the song was captivating – no, more than that! He had never heard such drumming and singing before – not even at court where his musicians played expertly, and never failed to draw people to the dancing floor. This was different…

Where is it coming from? Who is beating the drum and singing the praises of Iya-Alakara? So, it’s true that this woman’s akara olororo is legendary…Perhaps I myself should taste it? the Ọba was wondering as the sound of the music fluctuated – from high to low and vice versa.
Very soon the others joined in, caught up with the music, or perhaps the Ọba’s instant reaction to the music set them off. The Ọba danced away from the scene – why, nobody knew – as if hypnotized by the whole thing.

It seemed as if the Ọba had lost his head, as he danced and danced until his crown fell off his head; he was sweating and breathing hard – totally carried away. His courtiers did not know when they started following him, for the music seemed to have gone into their heads as well.
As soon as the coast was clear, Ijapa came out of his hiding, and carried away the tray with akara home once more.

“It’s worked out just the same way as last time – at Idaha, with Iya- Ẹlẹpa” Ijapa was thinking. “Until I was caught” he added reluctantly in his mind. “I’ll just do it one more time. I should’ve stopped sooner at Idaha. I pushed my luck too far! But then I didn’t think I was going to get caught…”

When Iya-Alakara, Ọmọ-Alakara, the Ọba and his courtiers came to their senses, and realized what had happened, and on checking, found the akara tray and its contents gone, the Ọba said:

“This can’t be happening in my town, and it must be brought to an end. Someone is playing a trick on us, and the person must be found!” Little did the Ọba know that something very similar – worse even – had taken place in another town before.

The Ọba called all the people in the town including his councillors to the palace. This was not an uncommon practice at that time. Whenever an Ọba could not find solutions to problems that baffled him, he would summon everyone – men and women, young and old – to a meeting, and throw the matter open to them.

A messenger went around the town, ringing a bell.

“You’re all summoned to a meeting at the palace this evening. Make sure you all attend” he announced, naming the time of the meeting.
At the meeting later on the Ọba recounted the whole incident to his people, for the benefit of those who were not already aware of what was going on.

“A reward awaits the man who finds out who’s behind the drumming and the singing, and stealing this woman’s akara” he added, naming a considerable sum of money”.

After he had spoken, the Ọba looked around the gathering. There was silence; nobody said a word. After a while a one-legged man walking slowing with the aid of a stick came forward, until he was standing in front of the Ọba. Everybody gasped.

“How can this man think he can try for the reward?”

“What does he think he can do?”

“What foolishness!” many of them were thinking, laughing right out, nudging each other. The one-legged man ignored them all.

“Kabiyesi! I will find out who’s been drumming and singing and stealing the akara”.

The Ọba said nothing. Again, little did he know that this kind of thing had happened before, elsewhere. Coincidentally it was a one-legged individual (albeit an Ọsanyin Ẹlẹsẹkan – a one legged Ọsanyin who had come solved the problem. Ọsanyins were very much like humans, but with the magical powers of “iwin” (spirits) and gifted in solving mysteries. They differed in appearance to humans because they did not have two legs. They had as many as ten legs or just one).

The Ọba was going to dismiss the one-legged man, when he heard him asking:

“Kabiyesi! Let me try!”

The Ọba looked at the man, and saw something in his eyes, when he asked for permission to try yet again, pleading. The one-legged man seemed to know his reasons for asking but kept them to himself. The Ọba agreed.

“Good luck in trying to find out who’s responsible for the drumming and singing, and for stealing Iya-Alakara’s akara from her daughter. I give you my orders to try!”

The next day Ọmọ-Alakara led the way to the same place, followed by the one-legged man, and some other people who hid near a tree, in the bushes and high grasses near the road.

“A l’akara olororo re o! O ngbona lau lau, o nta sansan. Ẹ ba mi ra akara mi o!”

Ọmọ-Alakara started hawking.

Ijapa, who had come to the place again for the last time, unaware of what was going on, started the drumming and the singing, as soon as he heard her hawking:

As usual Ijapa played his drum and sang, varying the sound, while the people danced away. He then rushed to where the akara tray was, and stole it, not knowing that he was being observed by the one-legged man, from his hiding place.

The next day, the one-legged man went to the palace to see the Ọba .

“Kabiyesi! I’ve found out who’s been drumming and singing!”

“Go on!” ordered the Ọba eagerly. “Tell us who’s been causing this trouble for Iya-Alakara!”

“Ijapa” the one-legged man announced, and then went on to recount what he had witnessed at the scene of event.

“Ijapa!” the Ọba exclaimed. He was astounded, and he immediately summoned Ijapa to be brought before him.

When he was brought before the Ọba, Ijapa was shaking from head to toe, wondering what was going to happen to him, and how he was going to face Yannibo ever again.

“Ijapa, you’ve committed a serious offence in stealing Iya-Alakara’s akara from her daughter, and you’ll be flogged publicly. You’re also not fit to live among us…” the Ọba began, and then turned to the one-legged man:

“My people and I are grateful for your help. You’ll receive the reward promised you. I’d also like to appoint you as my councillor for you have wisdom”.

When the people of Eweko heard the news, they were shocked at the trick which Ijapa had played on Iya-Alakara’s daughter. After Ijapa had been flogged publicly, and had returned home, they all rushed to his abode, having taken permission from the Ọba, dragged Ijapa and his wife and children out, and drove them away – so far away that they could never, even if they wished it, return to Eweko. It was too disgraceful an occurrence.

Yannibo, who had had no inkling about what was really in Ijapa’s mind when he mentioned Ọmọ-Alakara to her, was appalled by the turn of events. She felt deeply embarrassed and ashamed. This was the worst disgrace Ijapa had brought upon the whole family, and twice now, – Ijapa being flogged publicly. What was more they were being dragged away from their home, yet again, and driven away in the view of everyone, as if they were hardened criminals.

“But then I should’ve known better. That first time he brought a tray full of akara home, I should’ve known that something was not quite right. How could anyone be that generous, especially someone, like Ọmọ-Alakara whom the akara did not belong to?”

Yannibo remembered how something had nagged at her that day, and how uncomfortable she had felt when Ijapa brought some more akara home the following two days. Naturally Ijapa had made up stories that seemed plausible to Yannibo at the time: Iya-Alakara had come with her daughter herself, the following day (and with some friends the day after) to the scene for a bit of the action. They had enjoyed dancing to Ijapa’s drumming and singing so much that, not only did she give the tray of akara to Ijapa twice again, but also promised to sell akara to him gratis any time he wanted from then on, as long as she and her friends could dance to his music any time they wanted!

“What a fool I’ve been not to have seen through him!” Yannibo blamed herself. “What have I got myself into? I shouldn’t have gone back to Ijapa. My parents warned me…” she went on to think. “What am I going to do now? I can’t even go back to my parents, since they live just outside Teregun, and we’ve been banned from there!”

Yannibo’s parents had indeed warned her not to go back to Ijapa when she wanted to go back to live with him at Teregun. When she and her family were driven out of Teregun because Ijapa was charged with stealing yams at a farm in a nearby town, Yannibo could not go back to live with her parents. This was probably one of the reasons she came to Eweko with Ijapa; she felt that she had no choice. Now the same thing had happened…

“I’ll just have to go with him somewhere else, but if we’re driven away again, that’d be it! I can’t continue to hold on to my parents’ apron anyway…”

The one-legged man was very happy to receive the reward, and to be appointed councillor to the Ọba.

The Ọba, who had become fascinated with Iya-Alakara’s akara – the subject of so much drama – decided to taste it. He enjoyed it tremendously that from then on, Iya-Alakara was commissioned to fry this hot, mouth-watering and delicious smelling akara olororo for everyone at the palace once a week, and at social events when different types of dishes were served.

21. Ijapa (Tortoise) and Iya-Alakara (Akara Seller)

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