24. Ijapa (Tortoise) and the three Brothers

A long, long time ago, in Makadu, a town in a faraway land there was an old man called Saka, who had three sons, Jarafe, Jagun, and Gbamila. Saka worked in three different areas: as a fisherman, rowing his boat to catch fishes; as a palm-tree climber, tapping for palm-wine and picking palm-kernels; and as a bow and arrow hunter (tafatafa).

Makadu, the town where the three boys lived with their father was near the sea and known for its abundance of lovely coconut and palm trees – some of which were exceptionally tall. As the town did not have a market Saka had to go to a market in Jakoko, a nearby town everyday to sell the fishes he caught, the palm-wine he tapped, the palm-oil he made from the palm-kernels, and the meat he got from hunting.

As the boys grew up, they started to help their father in the three areas – Jarafe, the eldest, with fishing, Jagun, the middle one, with palm-wine tapping and palm-oil making, and the youngest, Gbamila, with hunting. They loved their work and wanted to excel in it like their father. One day the latter called them and said:

“I’m getting old and weak. I don’t feel strong enough to handle our work any longer. I want you to go out and work on your own every day from now on.

“When you come back in the evening you can tell me what you’ve done”, he added quickly, realizing that the boys were still quite young and inexperienced, and needed guidance from him.

“Don’t worry, father”, Jarafe said. “We’re going to work so hard that very soon we’ll be as good as you!”

“We’ll even be better than you if you’re not careful!” Jagun, the second born joined in, laughing.

The three boys were indeed very hard-working. They were also good, kind-hearted boys who cared a lot about their father and others and had never given the former any undue cause for worry, since their mother’s death much earlier on. They were well-loved and respected by people in their town. They were also wise beyond their age.

The boys took their father’s advice and started going out to work on their own. Every evening they would return home and talk to him about the day’s work; if they had experienced any difficulties or did not do so well, they would discuss things with him. They would show him what they had brought along from their daily toil.

“Here is the fish l caught today, father”, the aspiring fisherman would say.

“I’ve got some palm-wine, and I’ve also made some palm-oil from palm-kernels”, the aspiring palm-tree climber would also say.

The bow-and-arrow hunter (tafatafa) would show their father what he managed to bring along as well.

Jarafe, Jagun and Gbamila would then take a little out of the goods for themselves and their father, before carrying the rest on their heads to the market in Jakoko, a few stops away, for sale. They would stop at each port of call – a wide stretch of land underneath a big tree with wide-spreading branches – where they would rest. Many other market traders did the same, and some of them, like the three boys, were often lucky to make a few minor sales or buy a few things at each stop. Those who did not were happy to take things easy for a while before moving on – to relax, chat and crack jokes.

“Jarafe, Jagun and Gbamila seem to be doing well at their chosen professions. The Ọba (ruler) won’t be happy if they surpass his experts at the palace in these areas”, an old farmer confided in a friend at one of the stops one day. “You know the Ọba hates anyone who, he believes, knows more than himself and his experts at court”, he added.

“Surely the Ọba should be happy to know how well these three boys are doing?” the friend replied. “After all, don’t we pray that our children should surpass us?”

“I don’t know… It’s obvious that this Ọba doesn’t think so, otherwise he’d have lifted the “taboo” the old man said.

“Ah! The “taboo”! You’re right. I’ve forgotten about that. These three boys have to be very careful indeed”.

With support and encouragement from their father, the three boys had been making progress in their work as they gained experience fast. They were deeply interested not only in mastering and extending the skills required in their different areas of work, but also in improving materials and tools in current use. For these reasons and because of their young age they had gained the respect and admiration of others.
Jarafe, Jagun and Gbamila liked discussing aspects of each other’s work, comparing and contrasting excitedly such things as methods, techniques, materials. They liked bantering and vying with each other as to who would come out on top were these areas to be put to the test. They were young and highly motivated. Little did they know that the excitement they felt about their work would get them into trouble one day.

The Ọba of Makadu – the town where the boys lived – was known for his strange and ruthless ways. It was not enough for him to be involved in the day-to-day lives of his people as other Ọbas were known to be – settling squabbles, petty quarrels, disputes of any sort, no matter how small, petty and inconsequential, ready to find solutions to problems that baffled their subjects, to mysteries of any kind. This Ọba wanted to be the authority on every area of human endeavours, which was not possible of course. He did not want anyone to outshine him because he thought that that would undermine his authority and could lead to rebellion. He was jealous and insecure. He hated hearing about other people’s achievements in the areas that he knew nothing about, to such an extent that it became a taboo for someone to talk openly about their expertise – let alone boast that they could do something they could not, especially something nobody had never done before.
When he first came to power, the Ọba immediately summoned some people reputed to be leaders in their different fields for a meeting at the palace.

“I’ve invited you here because I want you to live at my court” he began. “You see I want my people to always believe that I’m the authority on every area of human endeavours – that I’m the most powerful person in the land – and with all of you here that should not be difficult. Anyone who dares to say that they know more than me will be put to death, because that would amount to treason, not so? I will not tolerate boasting!”

This was how experts in several fields made their home at the palace. However, they, like everyone else in their town, were not happy with the Ọba. He was cruel and merciless. People hated him because any crime, no matter how small was punishable, and boasting about what one could not do, in particular, was punishable by death! At one time some people in the town plotted to dethrone him, but they were unsuccessful. This was because the Ọba had his spies all over the place. These were people who hated him as well but wanted to be on his good side – who sucked up to him to gain favours. The Ọba’s spies lurked around public places, such as drinking saloons, markets, stops, and places where people worshipped, eavesdropping.

In those days 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 and interacting freely with each other. Animals spoke like humans and behaved generally the same way – some animals, like the tortoise, Ijapa, possessing remarkable physical and mental capabilities as humans.
Ijapa was very popular in some quarters – among humans and animals alike, although his behaviour was often abominable, and got him into trouble with others. He was cunning and mischievous always boasting that he could find solutions to any problem; he was a trickster who obtained things even humans could not through ruse. Ijapa was also very lazy – not known to do any honest work, unless he could not help it, generally relying on the kindness of others, eg friends and neighbours, or on tricking them to obtain food. However, Ijapa was resourceful and resilient which others found admirable; he was witty and could be relied upon to liven things up, especially when he tried to be clever and fell flat on his face.

Ijapa was constantly receiving punishments or personal injury, death sentences or was being driven away from where he lived for his misdeeds. Sometimes he would leave of his own accord, disgraced and ashamed. It was not surprising, therefore, that he and his family had been driven away from Eweko, the last town where Ijapa was living, by the Ọba of that town for using tricks to steal akara from the daughter of an akara seller (Iya-Alakara). It was not surprising, either, that Ijapa had come to live in Makadu alone. His wife, Yannibo, had had enough of being driven away with Ijapa from town to town. They had been driven away from another town, Teregun, before this, because Ijapa went to steal yams at a farm in a nearby town. Yannibo had gone back, yet again, to live with her parents, taking the children along with her. Her parents were no longer living just outside Teregun, but elsewhere.

Ijapa was certainly very popular with the Ọba of this town. As he (Ijapa) was not in any gainful employment he could be relied upon to bring news to the Ọba regularly. He was therefore one of the Ọba’s main spies. A two-faced creature, reporting on others was second nature to him. He would lurk around, hide at nooks and corners to listen in on other people’s conversations.

One day Jarafe, Jagun and Gbamila went from their town to the market in Jakoko, the nearby town. At the first stop, they put down their loads and sat down to rest. Nobody was around as yet. As they rested they chatted about one thing or the other, and since their conversations often touched on their work, it was not surprising when the oldest, Jarafe – the fisherman – suddenly said:

“I’m happy I’ve been working hard at my swimming – practising different strokes, improving my speed and technique”.

“Why is that?” Jagun, the middle brother, asked.

“You know, it’s not enough to know how to catch fishes and to have very well-made fishing boats. One must be a very good swimmer as well.” Jarafe answered.

“Aha!” Jagun muttered.

“When I fish with other people in our fishing boats, I often wonder how good we all are at swimming. If we were to capsize, we would need to swim, wouldn’t we?” Jarafe continued.

“And how good are you all?” Gbamila, the youngest brother, challenged him.

“I don’t know about the others, but as I said I’ve been practising hard…” Jarafe replied, pleased with himself.

“Anyway, it’s not as if we’re talking about swimming in the ocean, is it?” Jagun pointed out.

“Why not? I always say jokingly to the other fishermen: ‘Supposing we’re right in the middle of the ocean, and our boats capsize, how many of us can make it to the next shore?’” Jarafe continued, unruffled.

“People don’t swim in the middle of the ocean!” Gbamila said in disbelief.

“That’s what they all say to me, but it shouldn’t be difficult if you are a good swimmer! An excellent swimmer can swim in the middle of the ocean and make it to the next shore! With the right swimming gear, strokes, speed and technique…”
He was joking of course – exaggerating – just as he must have been joking with his colleagues, and his brothers did not take him seriously. They knew that he just wanted them to share his enthusiasm about how important it was for a fisherman to know how to swim, which in his opinion involved the right swimming gear, strokes, speed and technique.

“I find that all-in-one swimming costumes facilitate gliding and flying along in the water than swimming trunks. As for the other swimming gear available on the market, such as flippers, goggles and swimming caps, no thank you! Mind you it also depends on your strokes as well” Jarafe continued excitedly; his enthusiasm about this topic knew no bounds, and it had nothing to do with swimming in the ocean!

“I know that there are different strokes like back strokes and breast strokes, but surely none of these, especially back strokes, which are the slowest, can get you far when you’re in the ocean!” Jagun insisted, wanting to make fun of his brother’s allusion to swimming in the ocean.

“Front crawl is the fastest, and butterfly which involves a lot of technique. I personally think that speed and technique (gliding and flying along in the water) are the most important things.” Jarafe replied, his enthusiasm about the topic still in the forefront.

“You’re probably right. I think speed and technique are the most important things for a palm-tree climber” Jagun said, suddenly realizing how enthusiastic and excited he too felt about these aspects of his work.

“Really?” Jarafe and Gbamila asked.

“Yes. A palm tree climber needs his gear – “igba” (climbing-rope) – admittedly. “But no matter how good the “igba” is, you need to know how to climb up inch by inch, where to put each foot, one after the other – not to talk of how to use your arms – and how to do it without falling, and with speed.

“Funnily enough the other day when I was with my colleagues, and we were talking about climbing trees with more expertise, which we’re all striving towards, my mind suddenly went to those exceptionally tall palm and coconut trees in our town, on the other side of the river. ‘I wonder why no one has ever attempted to climb any of these trees our town is known for?’ I asked my colleagues. They all looked at me with surprise, and started saying one after the other:

“Anyone who attempts that must be mad.”

‘The person would be asking for trouble. ”

“Anyone who does that must have a death wish”.

“And what did you answer them?” Jarafe wanted to know”.

“Nothing. But come to think of it, climbing one of these palm trees – the tallest of them all – right to the top is no more difficult for an expert palm tree climber than swimming in the ocean to the next shore is for an expert swimmer!” he added jokingly, and they all laughed.
Gbamila, the bow and arrow hunter (tafatafa) did not want to be left out.”

“What can I say?” he asked his brothers.”

“Surprisingly speed and technique are also very important in my field” he continued. We hunters – shooters – need excellent bows and arrows with strong strings, that are designed with speed in mind. But we also need to know how to position ourselves, put the arrow to the bow’s string perfectly, to pull at the string with all our might and let it go, and not slow down after a while and fall back to earth. All this requires expertise. Only expert shooters, like us can pull it off.”

“All the same” argued one of the other brothers. “No matter how fast and high an arrow goes it cannot be seen as spectacular. There’s nothing extraordinary about an arrow flying very fast and hitting its target, nothing compared with swimming to shore in the ocean, or climbing to the top of a very tall tree.”

“Ah! But what about shooting an arrow that can fly so high it hits the sky!” Gbamila insisted, laughing.

“Impossible! Have you ever heard or seen anything like that before?” one of his brothers said.

“Of course not. I’m just joking, but let’s say the arrow flies so fast and high until for some reason or the other it disappears from view, and soon after it starts to rain. Won’t one not say then that the arrow has hit the sky?” the bow-and-arrow hunter continued, pushing his luck, but not wanting to be outdone.

“What nonsense…” the two other brothers said at the same time. They knew that their brother was joking – that he was just trying to see how he too could put up a case, like they had, for an extraordinary feat in his area of work.

The boys joked back and forth oblivious of Ijapa’s presence. The latter was lurking around, very close to the boys’ resting place, listening to their conversation. Ijapa had been hearing about the boys and their work and had been jealous of their outstanding successes. He would be only too happy to cause difficulties and much grief for these three brothers, since he himself had achieved nothing. Gbamila, the last born had hardly finished what he was saying when Ijapa emerged suddenly as if from nowhere.

“Well, well, well! All three of you are in trouble with the Ọba” he warned them. “Don’t you know that Kabiyesi doesn’t like people making promises they can’t fulfil? You’ve been boasting that you can do things that nobody can possibly do, so you’d better get ready to make good your promises. If you fail to do so, I’m afraid you’ll not live to see the following day.”

“But we haven’t made any promises to anyone about anything. We were just joking. Please overlook this. Don’t go and tell the Ọba” Jarafe, the eldest, pleaded with Ijapa. Ijapa did not answer but headed straight for the palace.

By now all the three brothers were badly shaken and frightened almost to death by Ijapa’s words and were crying. They were only boys after all, even though they were very wise for their age. They were so frightened that they started to tremble. What were they going to do? They got up quickly, carried their goods straight to the market and sold them at a bargain, so that they could rush home to tell their father what had happened.

When Ijapa got to the palace he asked to see the Ọba:

“I’ve something of extreme importance to report to Kabiyesi!” he informed the Ọba’s messengers, and was ushered immediately to the Ọba’s chambers.

“Kabiyesi! An extraordinary thing happened today! I overheard three boys boasting about things that have never been done before!” he said to the Ọba.

“I’m all ears” the Ọba replied, leaping up from his throne.

“One of the boys claims that he can swim across the ocean to the next shore!” Ijapa continued.

“Really!” the Ọba exclaimed.

“The second claims that he can climb right to the top of the tallest palm tree in town” Ijapa added.

“What!” the Ọba shrieked.

“And the third claims that he can shoot an arrow and this arrow will hit the sky causing rain to fall!” Ijapa finished.

“This is outrageous” the Ọba exclaimed, boiling with rage. “Who are these boys, and where do they come from?”

“They come from around here, Kabiyesi. They live with their father, on the other side of town – an old man who once worked as a fisherman, a palm tree climber and palm-oil maker, and a bow-and-arrow hunter” Ijapa replied, happy to show off what he knew about the boys.
You know I hate lies, Ijapa” the Ọba warned Ijapa who knew too well what the consequences would be if the boys were to prove him wrong.

“Supposing they’re not boasting and can indeed do what they claim they can do?” The Ọba was suddenly afraid.

“Kabiyesi! Have you ever heard of anyone shooting an arrow that will hit the sky leading to rainfall?” Ijapa wanted to know.

“Not in this world!” the Ọba replied, relaxing slightly. He had let his anger get the better of him.

“You’re right. This is an assault on one’s intelligence. Bring the boys here at once!” he commanded, roaring with renewed anger.

The boys had just got back from the market and were recounting the incident to their father when the Ọba’s messengers arrived with a message from the palace. The three brothers were summoned to appear at court. Fearing the worst, the old man burst into tears.

“No doubt my children are going to be killed and I won’t see them ever again. What’s going to become of me?” he lamented. After a while he continued:

“Let’s go to the palace. I have to plead with the Ọba… Perhaps he will listen – take pity on me, an old man.”

“Kabiyesi!” father and sons said in unison, prostrating before the Ọba when they were ushered into his chambers.

The Ọba ignored their greetings.

“You carefree boys say that you can swim across the ocean, climb the tallest palm tree to the top, and hit the sky with an arrow! Very well you must carry out all these three things for me. I’ve no quarrel with you yet, and as long as you fulfil your promises everything will be fine. But if you fail to do so, I will have to have you killed. I give you a week to get ready to make good your promises.

The boys and their father burst into tears, greatly troubled.

“Silence!” the Ọba commanded when one of the boys – the eldest tried to speak. The Ọba did not want him or the other two to tell their own side of the story.

“You may speak!” he turned to the father.

“Kabiyesi! I’ve come to ask you to take pity on my sons and me. I’m sure that they did not make any promises to anyone about anything. They were just bantering. Ijapa has done a great injustice in coming to report them to you. If you have my children killed their death would be untimely, and the thought of it would kill me. I’d have nothing more to live for, because they are my hope, my joy. They’re all I have. Please merciful Ọba, spare their lives, for God’s sake.”

The Ọba looked at the old man without pity, not swayed by what the latter had just said.

“Get up old man. Just pray that your boys can accomplish what they claim, and they would be greatly honoured. If not…” The Ọba did not need to finish his sentence. Everyone knew what the boys’ fate would be were they to fail.

“The tests will be in a week’s time and everyone in town will be present, so that they can learn from the experience. I will not tolerate boasting!” the Ọba announced, dismissing his audience.

The old man left the palace with his sons, weighed down by grief, weeping profusely. Coming to plead with the Ọba had been a complete waste of time. This Ọba was merciless. The following day the father decided to ask friends, relatives and well-wishers to go to the palace to intervene for them, but the Ọba would not be swayed.

The days before the contests were very difficult for anyone in town who knew, loved and cared for the boys and their father. The family house was inundated with people who sat around, not eating or drinking, but weeping profusely. It was as if they were in mourning. On the first two days, the three brothers wallowed in their tears as well, being so petrified and deeply troubled, but on the third day, Jarafe, the eldest advised his brothers:

“There’s no point crying over spilt milk. Why don’t we just concentrate on improving our skills and reviewing the gear required for our work in preparation for the day. We can’t do more than that.”

So, for the remaining days the three of them prepared for the tests, concentrating on improving their speed and technique which was the main thrust of their conversation on that fateful day. They also reviewed the gear and materials available to them: swimming gear, igbas, bows and arrows – some of which they had had made according to their own specification. The idea was to decide on the ones they would feel comfortable with.

The swimmer, Jarafe, had already expressed his opinion about different swimming gear. He preferred to dispense with all of them and just wear a thin all-in-one swimming costume he favoured. The palm tree climber might decide to have an igba made specially for him according to this own specification after reviewing other igba at his disposal. The shooter already had a selection of bows and arrows he was happy with and could choose from, although having a set made according to his specification was not ruled out.

On the appointed day all the town-folks were gathered in front of the Ọba’s palace, having been summoned to do so, to see what would happen to these unfortunate young boys. The boys and their father were naturally among the crowd. Everyone, except Ijapa, was deeply troubled. After all these boys were still very young and could be theirs, and their lives were in danger. Ijapa, on the other hand, had no thoughts for the boys. He was very cheerful, bouncing up and down anticipating his forthcoming success and what it might mean for him in terms of gains. He was proud of himself. After all was this great occasion not owed to him?

Very soon the crowd was led inside the palace to where the Ọba and his court sat.

“Kabiyesi!” they all said in unison, the women kneeling down and the men prostrating, conforming to the usual courtesy accorded Ọbas.

“My people, I’ve summoned you here today to witness an event at the sea shore, where we’ll all be proceeding to, so that you can learn from it.

There are three boys who claim that they can do things that are unheard of. If they succeed, they’d be greatly honoured. Otherwise I’ll have to have them killed. You all know the rules” the Ọba said.

There was a gasp and an uncontrollable groan from the crowd, but not from Ijapa who was unperturbed.

“Kabiyesi!” he cheered the Ọba.

The Ọba put up his hand as if to waive everybody aside.

“You’d all better listen well to the extraordinary things these boys claim they can do” he continued, and then recounted what each of the three boys were supposed to have laid claim to. “While swimming across the ocean and climbing right to the top of the tallest palm tree in town are no mean feats” he added, “What does one make of the third boy’s claim. How can anyone shoot an arrow that will hit the sky?”

The Ọba paused and glanced all around him. Everyone looked at each other, ill at ease. They all knew that these boys could not possibly mean any of the things they were supposed to lay claim to.

“We all know that this is an impossible task” the Ọba continued, “that there’s no way that an arrow, shot from the earth, can hit the sky, no matter how fast and high it shoots off the bow. Therefore, this is what I’ve decided. As long as the boy’s feat is as extraordinary as his brothers’ – that is, as long as his performance in shooting an arrow measures up to the performances of his brothers in swimming across the ocean and climbing right to the top of the tallest palm tree in town, I’ll allow it. In other words, something extraordinary must happen when this boy performs.”

Everyone looked at each other again in silence, not knowing what to make of the whole thing, feeling very uncomfortable for the boys’ fate. It was only Ijapa who felt completely at ease, smiling.

“We can now proceed to the sea shore where preparations have been made for these boys to carry out their claims. We’ll all sit down comfortably and watch them. Enjoy yourselves!” the Ọba said with glee, and he and his courtiers led the way.

It was magnificent at the sea shore. The sun was shinning brightly and there was a gentle breeze blowing from the beautiful tall palm trees and coconut trees, where birds were chirping, as waves ebbed and flowed on the beach. At the horizon the sky and the sea looked dazzling. The Ọba and his courtiers took their seats.

“Bring forward our three extraordinary boys and let’s put their claims to the test!” the Ọba commanded.

The three boys were promptly brought before the Ọba.

“I’ve at my feet the best available materials, that are required for your performances: swimming gear, igba for climbing trees, and bows and arrows for shooting, so there’s no problem as far as these are concerned. The rest is up to you” the Ọba addressed them.

“We’ll start with the eldest boy – the fisherman, I’ve been told. Come forward and take possession of the swimming gear we have for you: swimming trunks, flippers, caps, goggles, etc.” the Ọba continued.

Jarafe tried to put up a brave front as he started to get ready, but inwardly he was petrified because he knew that the swimming gear was going to be a handicap to him. However, he thought he had no choice but to give them a try since the Ọba had gone into the trouble of providing them, and no doubt expected him to make use of them.

“Now jump into the sea, and swim across to the other side! Make good your claim! I’ve already arranged for a rowing boat to follow you as you swim and bring you back whatever happens. If you indeed make it across to the other side of the sea, you’ll find a group of people waiting there, to witness your arrival. You’re allowed three tries” the Ọba announced. Good-luck!” he added sarcastically.

As Jarafe walked towards the water’s edge, he started to sing, and was unable to hold back his tears. In those days when people felt strong emotions in a given situation, they used songs to express those feelings – be it sadness, joy, fear, etc. Some people also believed that singing could help them in their predicament. Jarafe was singing about what he and his brothers had, supposedly, laid claim to:

Ọmọde mẹta nsire, Three children are playing
Ere o, ere-e ayọ. Playing, playing joyfully
Ọmọde mẹta nsire,
Ere o, ere-e ayọ

Ọkan l’oun o
wẹ’kun One says that he’ll swim across the ocean
Ere o, ere-e ayọ
Ọkan l’oun o g’ọpe One says he’ll climb to the top of a palm tree
Ere o, ere-e ayọ

Ọkan l’oun o ta’run One says he’ll shoot an arrow that will hit the sky
Ere o, ere-e ayọ
Ọwẹ’kun, ọwẹ’kun, ọwẹ’kun Swim across the ocean.
Ere o, ere-e ayọ
Ọg’ọpẹ, ọ g’ọpẹ, ọg’ọpẹ Climb to the top of a palm tree. Climb to the top of a palm tree
Ere o, ere-e ayọ
Ọta’run, ọta’run, ọta’run Shoot an arrow that will hit the sky
Ere o, ere-e ayọ
Ere o, ere-e ayọ
Ọmọde mẹta nsire,
Ere o, ere-e ayọ

When Jarafe finished singing he jumped into the water and started to swim. Everyone was quiet, tensed. He had hardly done more than a couple of strokes when the crowd saw that he was struggling in the water and was then being carried inside the rowing boat and brought back to shore. He was obviously weighed down by all the swimming gear which were hindering his strokes.

“The boy has lost his life” cried Saka, the boys’ father.

Some of the spectators groaned and some burst into tears, wailing. Everyone but Ijapa was deeply troubled. Ijapa was jumping up with joy, thanking his lucky stars.

“I’m going to be a rich man!” he mused.

Jarafe knew that he could not swim very well with the gear. Had he not said as much to his brothers on that fateful day? But how could he tell the Ọba that he would rather not make use of the swimming gear the Ọba had gone into great lengths to provide? A week before when he had tried to tell him his own side of the story, the Ọba had ordered him to silence. Was he likely to listen to anything he had to say now…? Jarafe wavered for a moment as to what to do, and then thinking that he had nothing to lose in asking, and remembering that he had been given three tries by this same man, he addressed the latter:

“Kabiyesi! Please allow me to remove all this swimming gear. I’ve never won them before. I don’t believe in them.”

“Go ahead!” the Ọba replied without any hesitation, thinking to himself: “Does this boy truly think he’ll succeed no matter what he wears or does not wear?”

“You’re allowed three tries anyway.”

Jarafe removed all the things on his body which were like a yoke around his neck. Underneath the garment he was wearing was another one – a thin all-in-one swimming costume he favoured when he and his brothers were bantering back and forth on that fateful day. He had put this on before coming, thinking he would swim in it. He removed his outer garment and jumped into the water once more. Everybody, including his father, wished him luck inwardly, praying fervently for him to make it to the shore.

Jarafe started to swim with the rowing boat in tow. Unhindered by all the swimming gear he had had on before he was able to use his arms and legs freely, changing strokes according to the current. With speed and technique foremost in his mind, he found himself gliding and flying along in the water and front crawling most of the time. When the spectators realized that they were losing sight of the boy and the rowing boat, and what that meant, their mood changed; they could not believe it! Was Jarafe going to make it across? By the time some of them rushed forward to see what was happening more clearly, the boy and the boat were no longer in sight. When they heard some commotion from the other side of the sea, followed soon by sounds of jubilation, joy and excitement, they knew that the boy must have made it there. They started to jump up for joy, hugging each other, laughing, dancing, clapping and singing.

“Congratulations!” resounded loudly everywhere as people rejoiced for the boy who was now being brought back in the rowing boat, dressed magnificently. After sometime, the Ọba ordered silence.

“You can come and sit at my feet while your brothers carry out their tests” he beckoned to Jarafe, the fisherman.

The spectators’ jubilation was short-lived at the mention of the two other brothers whose fate was still undecided. Jarafe sat down, resting, praying silently for Jagun and Gbamila to have the same luck, as him, at their performances. Ijapa had not taken part in the jubilation, not expecting this turn of events. Now he felt reassured.

“Let’s see if the younger brothers can escape from their predicament. They’re bound to fail and then they’ll just have to die!” he said with glee to the person next to him, who glared at him with contempt.

“You may be the one who ends up dying, Ijapa. So why don’t you just shut up!”
Ijapa did not answer but just laughed, disbelievingly.

“It’s the palm tree climber’s turn now. Bring him forward!” the Ọba announced after a short interval. Jagun was brought forward.

“Here’s a brand new and fine ‘igba’ for you, recommended by leading experts of the land”, the Ọba continued.

“Now, climb that palm-tree!” he commanded, pointing at the tallest palm-tree at the sea shore, and if you can’t climb right to the top, you’ll lose your life!”

The boy was frightened by the Ọba’s words, and he tried not to cry when the Ọba handed the ‘igba’ to him. He did not know what was in store for him. As he headed for the palm-tree his pace slackened from distress, and he could not hold back his tears any longer. He looked towards heaven as if for divine intervention, the whole of his body trembling. Immediately the Ọba’s entourage followed him, and very soon a lot of other people, including the boy’s father joined in, with trepidation in their hearts and tears in their eyes. Many of them were shaking their heads in disbelief, muttering.

The boy started to sing the same song as his brother, as follows:

Ọmọde mẹta nsire, Three children are playing
Ere o, ere-e ayọ. Playing, playing joyfully
Ọmọde mẹta nsire,
Ere o, ere-e ayọ

Ọkan l’oun o
wẹ’kun One says that he’ll swim across the ocean
Ere o, ere-e ayọ
Ọkan l’oun o g’ọpe One says he’ll climb to the top of a palm tree
Ere o, ere-e ayọ

Ọkan l’oun o ta’run One says he’ll shoot an arrow that will hit the sky
Ere o, ere-e ayọ
Ọwẹ’kun, ọwẹ’kun, ọwẹ’kun Swim across the ocean.
Ere o, ere-e ayọ
Ọg’ọpẹ, ọg’ọpẹ, ọg’ọpẹ Climb to the top of a palm tree. Climb to the top of a palm tree
Ere o, ere-e ayọ
Ọta’run, ọta’run, ọta’run Shoot an arrow that will hit the sky
Ere o, ere-e ayọ
Ere o, ere-e ayọ

Ọmọde mẹta nsire,
Ere o, ere-e ayọ

When Jagun finished singing he walked resolutely to the palm-tree to be climbed, tied the ‘igba’ (climbing rope) around him as far as it would go, and started to climb up with all his might, inch by inch. He had hardly reached anywhere far when he slid down. A pitiful wail could be heard from the spectators who were downcast, thinking the worst, although they were also praying silently for this boy to survive.

Tears poured down the faces of people with children – especially the women, who were thinking “This boy is well-behaved, good-looking and loved by everyone around – just like his brothers”. They felt very sorry for Saka, the boys’ father who looked crushed and as if life had gone out of him.

“He should have been allowed to stay at home” they were thinking.

It was only Ijapa who was unaffected by what was happening. He was dancing, jumping up for joy – believing that this boy was not going to succeed – rejoicing at someone’s downfall.

After a while Jagun went back to the Ọba.

“Kabiyesi!” he began as his brother had done. “Please allow me to use my own ‘igba’ – the one I use for tapping palm-wine for my father. I’m not familiar with this new one.”

“Ask no further!” the Ọba assured him, thinking again that the boy had no chance of making it.

“You have three chances to prove yourself.”

Jagun, like his brother, had brought along his own ‘igba’, not knowing that the Ọba was going to be involved in his choice of equipment. With the ‘igba’ securely around him, he started to climb the tree once more; he climbed fast and with accuracy, inch by inch upward, with each foot at the right place, and using his arms appropriately. To the amazement of everyone present he made it half-way up the tree in no time. The crowd relaxed a little. Perhaps there was hope for the boy after all.

Ijapa could not believe his eyes.

“Is this boy going to make it as well?” he asked himself, despondent.

The crowd started cheering the boy as he went up and up with speed, their support and encouragement spurring him on. By now the Ọba and his courtiers had joined in the cheering. Up and up the boy went, and by the time he reached the top of the palm-tree and clapped its neck just below the palm-fruits, he looked tiny up there – like a bird. The cheering was earth-shattering. This was outstanding success for the boy – instant fame.

Jagun slid down safely amidst the cheering and jubilation, overwhelmed by it all. He was immediately surrounded by relatives, friends and well-wishers who put their arms around him, shouting:

“Congratulations!”

Ijapa almost collapsed where he was and could not look at anyone in the eye.

“There’s still the last born to go” he said to himself, with renewed hope.

The Ọba’s henchmen brought the second boy back to the Ọba.

“This boy has performed outstandingly, Kabiyesi!

“Let him take a bath, and put on magnificent clothes, and let him sit near his brother at my feet.” the Ọba ordered.

The father was overjoyed.

“God please spare the life of my third child as well” he prayed.

Back at the beach the spectators were rejoicing, but their cheering and jubilation subsided as they remembered that the fate of the last born, Gbamila, was still undecided. They did not know what to make of ‘shooting an arrow that will hit the sky’ that this boy was expected to accomplish. ‘Swimming across the sea’ and ‘climbing the tallest palm tree in town’ were extraordinary achievements but hitting the sky with an arrow was absolutely impossible.

“Bring the third boy – the shooter before me!” the Ọba ordered after a short while.

As Gbamila stepped forward, there was gloom around.

“Here are three new sets of bows and arrows recommended by us” the Ọba began. “But you don’t have to use them. I’m sure you’ve brought your own gear with you, just like your brothers”.

“Yes, I have, Kabiyesi! But let me use yours first since you’ve taken the trouble to make them available to me” the boy answered. He knew deep down, though, that short of a miracle, his chances of making it were very slim indeed, whether he used the Ọba’s bows and arrows or his own. The Ọba thought the same thing as well, and so did everyone else on the beach.

“You’ve three chances anyway. Go and shoot an arrow that will hit the sky, and cause rain to fall, as promised!” the Ọba commanded.
With hands shaking the boy took the bows and arrows from the Ọba, stood aside, and laid them down at his feet, trembling all over. He was petrified. He then started to sing the same song as his brothers, with tears in his eyes:

Ọmọde mẹta nsire, Three children are playing
Ere o, ere-e ayọ. Playing, playing joyfully
Ọmọde mẹta nsire,
Ere o, ere-e ayọ

Ọkan l’oun o
wẹ’kun One says that he’ll swim across the ocean
Ere o, ere-e ayọ
Ọkan l’oun o g’ọpe One says he’ll climb to the top of a palm tree
Ere o, ere-e ayọ

Ọkan l’oun o ta’run One says he’ll shoot an arrow that will hit the sky
Ere o, ere-e ayọ
Ọwẹ’kun, ọwẹ’kun, ọwẹ’kun Swim across the ocean.
Ere o, ere-e ayọ
Ọg’ọpẹ, ọ g’ọpẹ, ọg’ọpẹ Climb to the top of a palm tree. Climb to the top of a palm tree
Ere o, ere-e ayọ
Ọta’run, ọta’run, ọta’run Shoot an arrow that will hit the sky
Ere o, ere-e ayọ
Ere o, ere-e ayọ
Ọmọde mẹta nsire,
Ere o, ere-e ayọ

Gbamila was now determined to prove, if nothing else, that his bows and arrows were far superior to the Ọba’s. Many of the onlookers who had bent their heads with disappointment brightened up when they intercepted the look of determination on the boy’s face.

“Kabiyesi!” Gbamila was saying. “I’d like to use my hunting materials after all – the ones I use at the farm for killing games for my father. I’ve brought them along with me. The Ọba’s materials look splendid, but I’ve never used these before”. There was a sound of approval and nods from the spectators. The Ọba too nodded his agreement, totally convinced that the boy did not have a chance in this world.

“Go ahead! Shoot your own arrow that’ll hit the sky, and cause rain to fall. Perform wonders!” he ordered sarcastically.
Gbamila positioned himself, picked up one of his arrows and put it to the bow’s string. The spectators held their breath and watched as he pulled it with all his might and released it. This time the arrow hardly reached the palm tree climbed by his brother. Ijapa jumped up with joy.

The spectators groaned and put their heads down with disappointment.

Gbamila positioned himself once more, picked up another arrow and put it to another bow’s string. This was his third and last chance. He regretted wasting his first chance on the Ọba’s bow and arrow. The spectators held their breath again and watched as he pulled it with all his might and released it. The arrow shot off the bow so fast and high up that it took everyone by surprise. Some people did not even see it go off because it was so fast, and those who did were unable to keep track of it. It was just incredibly fast.

What was more, by the time everybody looked at the sky again, they did not see anything, or rather, what they saw was what looked like a bird flying up, diminishing in size as it went up and up the sky, until it disappeared into the clouds. There was confusion all round. Before anyone could locate the arrow, which must have been blown away by a sudden gush of wind, and must have fallen back to earth, the sky had clouded over, and there was heavy thunder and lightening, and more wind, culminating very soon in a heavy downpour.

“We’ve put these boys through enough. We don’t need to go any further. The tests are over” the Ọba announced.

“As far as I’m concerned, this boy has done what he said he’d do! He’s shot an arrow towards the sky, and now it’s raining! We need not concern ourselves with the how and why”.

The Ọba and his courtiers made hastily for the palace with everyone else in tow. There was no doubt in anyone’s mind that the three boys had made it successfully, that sooner or later they would be the talk of the town, and that Ijapa, the tale-bearer had been put to shame.

“Seize Ijapa and tie him up” the Ọba ordered, when he caught sight of Ijapa trying to make his escape. Ijapa was seized and tied up as the Ọba proceeded to his chambers.

It was some time before the Ọba came out of his chambers, and took his seat on his throne, surrounded by his courtiers. Then the three boys were brought before him, as well as Ijapa, who was in chains. Everyone had re-assembled at the palace. There was jubilation around – murmurs, excitement, hushed voices, sounds of joy and happiness, people were dancing for joy. The atmosphere was completely the opposite to what it was at the beginning of the tests.

The Ọba asked for silence, and started to speak:

“These three boys have done extraordinary well today. They’ve made me realize that I’ve been very wrong. Rather than discouraging outstanding achievements one should embrace them. From now on anyone in this town can speak freely about what they want to achieve without fear of death from me!”

Everyone nodded in agreement and applauded for so long that the Ọba had to call for silence. The Ọba then turned to the three boys, whose names he was very familiar with by now:

“Jarafe, Jagun and Gbamila, I commend you and I congratulate you for your outstanding performances – for making good your claims. I also rejoice greatly for your father. From now on each one of you will be considered the leading expert in his area of work.

“You, the fisherman,” the Ọba turned to Jarafe will be the head of all the fishermen in the whole of my kingdom.

“You, the palm-tree climber – maker of palm-wine and palm-oil” he continued turning to the second born, Jagun “will be the Ọba’s palm tree climber, and will live with us at the palace.

Finally, the Ọba turned to the last born, Gbamila:

“And you, the shooter will be given the title of Balode (the highest honour bestowed upon hunters)”.

The Ọba also promised the boys a lot of money and valuable goods.

“Parade the boys around the town with pomp and fanfare, and let there be drumming, trumpeting, singing, and dancing!”

“As for you, Ijapa, tale-bearer, no honour is due to you. If you do evil, evil will be done to you. If you do good, good will be done to you. You wanted to send these children to an early grave, but instead you’ve unwittingly dug your own grave, and your head will fill it.”
The crowd murmured their agreement, looking and pointing at Ijapa whose head was bowed in shame.

“Take him away! Lock him up until we have his head cut off! Imagine what would have happened if these young boys had not been successful in their attempts!”

The jubilation around continued for a while longer. Suddenly the Ọba looked deeply troubled. The realization that he himself was not blameless in all this – in what Ijapa had done – was weighing him down. Putting someone to death just because they failed to make good their claims was a huge crime, and it should never have been decreed. Having Ijapa killed for what he had done that day – for the crime he had committed, which was reprehensible in itself, would be a crime.

As he got up to go inside his inner chamber there was a commotion. The people who took Ijapa away had brought him back, and one of them was shouting:

“Ijapa is dead, Kabiyesi! Look at maggots coming out of his body”.

The people present were amazed and bewildered, and they all started talking at the same time. Nobody could understand what had happened or how, but there was no doubt about it. Ijapa looked dead.

“Well, well! We don’t need to trouble ourselves any more as far as Ijapa is concerned” the Ọba said, calling for silence. “Ijapa has already got his punishment. Take him away and throw him into the forest!”

The Ọba then went inside his inner chamber.

The jubilation resumed in full force as people milled out of the palace to continue the celebrations in the town. They boys were carried head high around the town with pomp and fanfare, and there was drumming, trumpeting, singing and dancing.

All the orders given by the Ọba were fulfilled by his servants to the letter. Jarafe, Jagun and Gbamila were honoured, and they became famous in their town, and their father led the rest of his life in comfort.

The Ọba of Makadu and his people did not know that Ijapa had played a trick on them, and that he was still alive.

A long time before when Ijapa was living in a town called Magunwa, he had sustained a lot of injuries for tricking a roasted groundnut seller (Iya-Elẹpa) in a market in a nearby town in order to steal from her and others. He had been very lucky not to lose his life. He had also been very lucky that his misdeeds resulted most unexpectedly in a windfall. This windfall had changed Ijapa’s life dramatically. He had been able to afford to buy a hard shell which he put at his back, and which miraculously stuck, to protect him from similar injuries to those he had sustained. At that time Ijapa was a soft animal; his skin was as soft as a lizard’s or a frog’s, and he was easily overpowered and captured. Any time he feared attack, he would immediately pull his head, hands, and legs inside the shell.

Ijapa was to discover that if he stayed that way for some time, maggots would come out of the lower part of his body making him look dead.
This was how as Ijapa was being taken away by the Ọba of Makadu’s messengers to be locked up and beheaded, he quickly pulled his head, hands, and legs into his shell, and later on maggots started to come out of the lower part of his body. The messengers were horrified to see him in this state and thought that he was dead.

Ijapa had not died, and as soon he was thrown into the forest, he shook his whole body free, set his legs firmly on the ground, and hurried home and out of town immediately; he dared not show his face ever again in Makadu!