1. How Tortoise (Ijapa) Got His Shell – Ìjàpá and Ìyá- Ẹlépà.

A long time ago, the world was very different. Humans and animals had much in common, lived side by side, spoke the same language and generally behaved the same way. Some animals, like the Ijapa (tortoise) possessed remarkable physical and mental capabilities.

In a land far away, in the town of Magunwa, lived a tortoise, ijapa. Beset with famine, there was no meat, vegetables, fruit or corn to buy in the markets of Magunwa and many of its inhabitants had started to die.

“Things can’t go on this way. Are we all going to die of hunger and thirst? Shouldn’t we be looking for ways of getting food elsewhere?” some of them were saying. What of Ijapa? What was he saying?

One day Ijapa overheard some men talking excitedly about Idaha, a nearby town, prosperous and untouched by the famine.

“They are not starving over there! I hear Idaha Market is always bustling, especially on market days”, one of the men was saying.

“We ought to go there to buy food. We may even be able to find things to sell at this market!” the other man answered.

“Excellent idea!”

“Some people are already coming up with plans. If you’re not lazy, going to Idaha could be the answer!”

“Good luck to you all!” Ijapa muttered to himself. “You want to leave this town everyday to go to a market in another town to buy and sell things?! I wouldn’t even do anything like that in my own town!”

To a creature like Ijapa who had never done an honest day’s work in his life, if he could help it, the idea of travelling to a nearby town to make money to buy food, was absurd. He had always relied on the generosity of his friends and neighbours or on tricking others, to feed himself.

He survived on his cunning, his pranks as well as trickery, often boasting that he could solve any problem. Despite his deviousness and mischief, he was very popular, never ceasing to entertain with his quick wit and resourcefulness, especially when he tried to be clever and fell flat on his face!

So far, he had done nothing to combat the famine, and with time, as he started depleting his food supplies, he finally realised that he was in danger of starving to death. He needed to come up with a plan. There was no one he could turn to, and he started to feel the effects of the famine more than the others who were now travelling regularly to Idaha to trade.

Was Ijapa going to starve to death then?

“I must find a way of feeding myself. But why should I leave my town to go to another one every day?” Ijapa asked himself, and refused yet again to do anything about it, looking for one excuse or the other, until one day he said to himself:

“Well, it looks as if I may have to go to Idaha after all – not to buy and sell, but to canvass for food, just like I do here. But first I must go and investigate…study the different stalls to see which of them can serve my purpose. Then any time I go back there I can find a way of getting the people at the stalls to give me food. I may even be lucky to get money off them, and even from buyers!

Idaha Market was open every day, but every four days the market really sprung to life, with every single stall open and people coming from far and wide to buy and sell – this was known as ‘market day’. Having heard how busy the market was on such a day Ijapa decided to go there the day before market day – to look around quietly. He made his way to Idaha, early in the morning, passing through a forest full of palm-trees.

“Surely I’ll get lucky at Idaha Market!” Ijapa said to himself.
Ijapa’s attention was drawn to the palm-trees as he passed through the forest on the way to Idaha.

“Hmm…these palm-nuts on the ground that have fallen from all these palm-trees”, he was thinking. “Someone can get rich selling the palm-nuts….Wait a minute…” Ijapa stopped dead in his tracks as another thought struck him.

“Perhaps it’s this that my townsfolk had in mind when they were talking about looking for things to sell at Idaha Market…Not a bad idea!” He contemplated the idea further and then quickly dismissed it:

“Bah! Not for me! It’ll take ages searching for the palm-nuts, putting them in sacks and then taking them to the market to sell. Such hard work it’ll be. I’d be tired out each time. Doing it once may be all right – but I can’t see myself doing it regularly…no way!”

As he approached Idaha Market, Ijapa passed by the palace of the Ọba (king) of Idaha.

“The Ọba and his courtiers are lucky they’re not affected by any famine. How they must be enjoying life! If only I were there with them – even for one day! That’ll be the day!” Ijapa thought wistfully.

When he got to Idaha Market, Ijapa noticed that there were many stalls open, including fruit, vegetable, meat and provisions, and buyers milling around.

He decided he would return the following day to target these stalls and beg any of the owners with a compassionate air about them, to give him some of their goods for free.

“More stalls are bound to be open tomorrow, and I should be able to lay my hands on some of my favourite foods! I’ll return and put my plan into action”, Ijapa said to himself, as he headed home.

The following day Ijapa set out for Idaha Market once again. As he passed through the forest on his way and saw the palm-trees again, the same thoughts he had the day before came back to him: “Someone can become rich selling these palm-nuts!”
“Bah! Not I!” he muttered. “Of course not!”

When he got to the market, he noticed that many more stalls were in operation and even more people milling around than the previous day. He tried to familiarise himself with the different stalls once more – amidst the hustle and bustle, amidst hawkers hawking their goods. It was then that his nostrils were suddenly filled with the aroma of roasted groundnuts, and he spotted an Iya-Ẹlẹpa (groundnut seller), at a corner – very close to the entrance. Iya-Ẹlẹpa came to Idaha Market every market day to sell roasted groundnuts, and on other days she sold them in front of her house.

Ijapa was determined immediately that, even if he did not succeed in getting food or money at any other stalls, he had to get a taste of this woman’s groundnuts.

“Wonderful! Today might be my lucky day. Market day is definitely the only day for me. To return every day is too much trouble!” he said to himself.

Roasted groundnuts were one of Ìjàpá’s favourite foods.
Ijapa observed Iya-Ẹlẹpa at work, from a distance. He heard her hawking as she roasted her groundnuts, after cutting some coconut which she washed and soaked in a bowl of water.

“Ẹlẹ́pà yíyan ré o! Ẹwa bà mi rà n’bẹ!” (“Roasted groundnuts for sale! Come and buy some!”)

Immediately Ijapa saw a queue starting to form in front of Iya-Elepa’s stall. After some time, she had roasted a substantial quantity of groundnuts.

“Why don’t I just start with this woman?” Ijapa asked himself, unable to control his mouth from watering. “But how do I go about it?” he wondered.

After a short while he smacked his forehead.

“I’ll flatter her of course!”

Ijapa approached Iya-Ẹlẹpa’s stall and joined the queue.

There were other people around who had not joined the queue.

“You must be the best roasted groundnut seller in Idaha, Iya-Ẹlẹpa,” he started when it came to his turn. “The aroma of your groundnuts drew me to your stall from miles away!

Iya-Ẹlẹpa was not taken in by Ijapa. She, like others in Idaha, had heard about him.

“Flattery won’t get you anywhere, Ijapa. If you want some groundnuts, you pay for them. But you can’t, can you?

Don’t think I haven’t heard about you – about how you get by every day. You’ll never taste my groundnuts, you who are known to…”

“How do you know that I don’t have the money to pay for your groundnuts?” Ijapa interrupted her, deeply embarrassed that his reputation had preceded him.

“You? You who do nothing all day long to earn a living. Get out of my sight. I’ve no time for a lazy, good-for-nothing creature like you,” she sneered.

Ijapa was mortified by Iya-Ẹlẹpa’s words, especially as everyone around had heard her.

“You wait and see who’s going to have the last laugh!” Ijapa thought, moving away from the woman’s stall to other stalls, to try his luck. “Someone will give me money and I’ll buy your groundnuts. That’s a promise!”

There were many stalls in full swing that caught Ijapa’s attention for their goods, especially foodstuffs. What was more, the stallholders seemed so easy-going and cheerful that Ijapa decided to visit them all.

“By the time I go around all of you, I should be okay,” he told himself, and started calling on them one by one. Sellers and buyers were surprised to see him, and started asking him questions, one after the other.

“Ah Ijapa! What’re you doing here? Are you a buyer or a seller?”

“Things must be very bad in Magunwa, if you are here!”“Why don’t you try your hands at selling something?”

Ijapa looked quickly for different ways of answering them, making up stories to gain their sympathy.

“I’m here to find….a stall…” he lied. “I want to sell palm-nuts actually,” he answered and showed them a handful of palm-nuts he had picked on his way there. “What does it take to get a stall here?”

None of them would lend him any money, even though he promised to pay them back. He even pleaded with some stallholders to give him their unwanted food items and offered his services in exchange for food.

Most of the stallholders were kind to him, although some of them just threw food at him – a piece of fruit or some bread – and lectured him on how to improve his lot. Nobody gave him money for fear of encouraging him. This left Ijapa thinking:

“One of my favourite foods – roasted groundnuts – and I won’t be able to taste them!”

Ijapa was very put out. He had hoped that by now he would have convinced someone to lend him money so that he could go back to Iya-Ẹlẹpa’s stall to see the surprise on her face when he paid for some groundnuts.

As he recalled her harsh words to him, his resentment of her grew and he started to have mischievous thoughts.

The more upset and frustrated he got the more he was determined to get even with the woman.

“There’s no way on this earth I’ll not eat any of those groundnuts. If I can’t find money to buy them, I must find other means” he promised himself.

Unknown to many, Ijapa was gifted in drumming and singing. Those who did know, often wondered why he could not have earned his living this way instead of lazing around all day long, causing mischief.

His music had been known to entice people to start dancing instantly, with abandon; it was irresistible, diverting and hypnotic.

Gradually an idea started to form in Ijapa’s head, and he sought out Okete (the Giant Rat) who was known for his burrowing skills.

“I want you to do something for me Okete. I want you to dig a tunnel for me. If you can do it immediately, and you do it well, I’ll give you a sack-full of palm-nuts”, Ijapa said.

Now, animals were known to do favours for one another and for paying in kind for favours.

“It’s a done deed! Tell me more about it”, Okete replied excitedly, very pleased with the offer. Before approaching Okete, Ijapa had been wondering how to repay him for the favour he was about to ask him, when he suddenly remembered Okete’s penchant for palm-nuts, which was well known.

“What a coincidence! Wasn’t I saying to myself just yesterday and the day before how the fallen palm-nuts in that forest could make someone rich! Well, I’m clearly not that person, but surely it won’t be too much trouble for me to gather a sack-full of palm-nuts and give it to Okete in exchange for what I want him to do for me”, Ijapa had thought.

Ijapa took Okete to the forest he had passed by on the way to Idaha Market and instructed him to dig a tunnel from below a big tree at the edge of the forest, right to Iya-Ẹlẹpa’s stall, at the entrance of the market – below her seat.

Okete went to work at night, when nobody was around. Ijapa also went to work in the forest full of palm-trees, searching their bases for the palm-nuts that were scattered around. Before long he had a sack-full.

Before the next market day, the tunnel was ready, and Okete took Ijapa to see it at night – to test it out, to see how he would be able to sneak into the market through it. Both ends of the tunnel were covered with dried leaves and shrubs in such a way that they blended well with the surroundings.

Iya-Ẹlẹpa’s stall was close to the entrance of the market where there were one or two trees, so that nobody would have suspected that the tunnel was there.

“Excellent work!” Ijapa thanked Okete, handing him the sack of palm-nuts. Okete, who was more interested in the palm-nuts than in what was going on, did not ask any questions.

“So far so good!” Ijapa commended himself silently. “Now for the next stage!”

On the eve of the next market day, Ijapa took his drum, went and hid in the tunnel – just below Iya-Ẹlẹpa’s stall, and covered his face with the dried leaves that blended with his surroundings.

Early the following morning, he heard all the goings-on in the market – above ground – from the tunnel. Very soon the market was in full swing, and amidst the hustle and bustle and hawking of goods, one could hear Iya-Ẹlẹpa’s:

“Ẹlẹ́pà yíyan ré o! Ẹwa bà mi rà n’bẹ!”

As ever, she had made preparations for roasting her groundnuts, cutting some coconut which she put inside a bowl of water, lighting her coal stove and throwing some raw groundnuts into a wide pot on top of the stove.

Once done, she started roasting the groundnuts, stirring them with her igbakọ (a wooden utensil) constantly. Within minutes the aroma of the groundnuts had filled the air from miles away!

Ijapa could tell when Iya-Ẹlẹpa had roasted a substantial quantity of groundnuts, as he could hear people flocking to buy them. The aroma of the groundnuts filled his nostrils. He waited for some time, following the movements above-ground.

“I can drum and sing a song about Iya-Ẹlẹpa’s groundnuts and get her to dance.” thought Ijapa, as he started drumming and singing:

Ẹlẹ́pà yi, Ẹlẹ́pà yi Yonder groundnut seller
Pẹrẹpẹrẹpeu. crackling, crack, crack
Ò bá jó lọ bí Ọ̀yọ́ ilé Dance freely, anywhere and anyway you like
Pẹrẹpẹrẹpeu.
Ò bá jó lọ bí Ọ̀fà Mọjọ̀
Pẹrẹpẹrẹpeu.
Ǹg bá wò‘dí igbá dé ọ́ o Then I’ll be able to watch over your stall
Pẹrẹpẹrẹpeu.
Groundnuts crack, groundnuts crack
crack
Ẹ̀pà pẹ̀ú, Ẹ̀pà pẹ̀ú
Pẹrẹpẹrẹpeu.
Ẹ̀pà pẹ̀ú, Ẹ̀pà pẹ̀ú
Pẹrẹpẹrẹpeu.
Ẹlẹ́pà yi, Ẹlẹ́pà yi Yonder groundnut seller
Pẹrẹpẹrẹpeu. crackling, crack, crack
Mà jó lọ bí Ọ̀yọ́ ilé Dance freely, anywhere and anyway you like
Pẹrẹpẹrẹpeu.
Mà jó lọ bí Ọ̀fà Mọjọ̀
Pẹrẹpẹrẹpeu.
Ǹg bá wò‘dí igbá dé ọ́ o Then I’ll be able to watch over your stall
Pẹrẹpẹrẹpeu.
Groundnuts crack, groundnuts crack
crack
Ẹ̀pà pẹ̀ú,Ẹ̀pà pẹ̀ú
Pẹrẹpẹrẹpeu.
Ẹ̀pà pẹ̀ú, Ẹ̀pà pẹ̀ú
Pẹrẹpẹrẹpeu.
Ẹ̀pà pẹrẹpẹrẹpeu.
Ẹ̀pà pẹrẹpẹrẹpeu.
Ẹ̀pà pẹrẹpẹrẹpeu.

Ijapa repeated the song, varying the volume and tempo, hoping that it would mystify its audience.

“Who knows, I may be able to make Iya-Ẹlẹpa and the other sellers lose their senses and dance away from their stalls in search of where they think the music is coming from. It’s worth a try!”

Iya-Ẹlẹpa heard the drumming and the lovely song about her groundnuts. She tapped her feet to the music whilst stirring the groundnuts she roasted in front of her. Wondering where the music was coming from, she began to sway from side to side, as the drumming became stronger and the singing louder, as she served the people in front of her.

“What’s got into Iya-Ẹlẹpa?!” the people were thinking, laughing amusedly. They wondered where the music was coming from and who could be singing about Iya-Ẹlẹpa and her groundnuts. As if in a trance, Iya-Ẹlẹpa put down her igbakọ, stopped serving her customers and got up to dance, stunning everyone around her.

Before long, everyone else also started joining in the dance. Amazing!

As the sound of the music fluctuated, Iya-Ẹlẹpa started to dance away from her stall towards the entrance of the market, followed by the buyers around her.

Gradually other sellers and buyers were affected by the beat of the music and started to dance as well – away from their stalls, Iya-Ẹlẹpa leading the way. They danced with all their might, moving down the road, leaving their stalls behind, varying their dancing styles; they danced round and round, lowering their bodies to the ground and rising up again.

Extraordinary!

Ijapa verified stealthily that the coast was clear, and then crept out of the tunnel, looked right and left, and made for Iya-Ẹlẹpa’s stall, thinking: “My plan has worked!” He took all the roasted groundnuts, going up and down the tunnel. He did not want to steal from any other stalls.

After all, some of these people had been kind to him. “I shouldn’t really steal from them, should I?”

However, when Ijapa realised that the coast was clear for much longer than he had anticipated he decided there and then that, come the next market day, he would loot some other stalls as well.

“After all I can’t exist on roasted groundnuts alone”, he reasoned with himself. “I’ll store some of the food I manage to grab each time in the tunnel and take the rest home. If I keep canvassing for food, even these people who have been kind to me will eventually insult me, like Iya-Ẹlẹpa, so coming every market day to loot the stalls is better.

The tunnel is an excellent hiding spot for the food I steal. That Okete has done well for me!”

Ijapa’s music had had an extraordinary effect on the people in the market, especially on Iya-Ẹlẹpa – the subject of the song.

They all continued to dance away. In a short time, the stalls were empty, and the people could be seen dancing.

They danced away from the market to the edge of the town, passing the palace on their way.

The music had stopped long before the people came back to their senses, but it did not seem to matter because they had danced so far away from it that they would not have known.

It was as if they had been spirited away, with the song continuing to play on in their minds. Ijapa could not carry all the stolen groundnuts home with him, so he stored the rest at the other end of the tunnel and made his escape through the forest.

Far away from the market and at the edge of the town, Iya-Ẹlẹpa and the others finally came to their senses.

They looked at each other and felt ashamed.

“What’re we doing here? What’s wrong with all of us?” they were saying in wonder, and rightly so.

On their return to the market, they found that Iya-Ẹlẹpa had been robbed of her groundnuts.

“So, this is what it’s all about! So, this is why all of us have been made to behave like fools!”

“What’re you going to do, Iya-Ẹlẹpa?”, they asked her sympathetically. “You’d better bring someone along with you the next time, in case this happens again – a friend who’ll be able to observe what’s going on.”

Iya-Ẹlẹpa took their advice and asked a very good friend to come to the market with her on the next market day.

“I’ll sit down and look out while you attend to your customers in case the thief comes again”, the friend suggested.

On the next market day, Iya-Ẹlẹpa went to the market with her friend. Ijapa had got ready for this occasion as well and was waiting quietly at the end of the tunnel, close to Iya-Ẹlẹpa’s seat – waiting for her to roast a substantial quantity of groundnuts.

For some time, nothing happened beyond the hustle and bustle above-ground, the hawking, including Iya-Ẹlẹpa’s:

“Ẹlẹ́pà yíyan ré o! Ẹwa bà mi rà n’bẹ!”

Within minutes, the aroma of the groundnuts had filled the air from miles away and people started to buy them. His nostrils filled, Ijapa started his drumming and singing, yet again:

Ẹlẹ́pà yi, Ẹlẹ́pà yi Yonder groundnut seller
Pẹrẹpẹrẹpeu. crackling, crack, crack
Ò bá jó lọ bí Ọ̀yọ́ ilé Dance freely, anywhere and anyway you like
Pẹrẹpẹrẹpeu.
Ò bá jó lọ bí Ọ̀fà Mọjọ̀
Pẹrẹpẹrẹpeu.
Ǹg bá wò‘dí igbá dé ọ́ o Then I’ll be able to watch over your stall
Pẹrẹpẹrẹpeu.
Groundnuts crack, groundnuts crack
crack
Ẹ̀pà pẹ̀ú, Ẹ̀pà pẹ̀ú
Pẹrẹpẹrẹpeu.
Ẹ̀pà pẹ̀ú, Ẹ̀pà pẹ̀ú
Pẹrẹpẹrẹpeu.
Ẹlẹ́pà yi, Ẹlẹ́pà yi Yonder groundnut seller
Pẹrẹpẹrẹpeu. crackling, crack, crack
Mà jó lọ bí Ọ̀yọ́ ilé Dance freely, anywhere and anyway you like
Pẹrẹpẹrẹpeu.
Mà jó lọ bí Ọ̀fà Mọjọ̀
Pẹrẹpẹrẹpeu.
Ǹg bá wò‘dí igbá dé ọ́ o

Then I’ll be able to watch over your stall

Pẹrẹpẹrẹpeu.

Groundnuts crack, groundnuts crack
crack

Ẹ̀pà pẹ̀ú,Ẹ̀pà pẹ̀ú
Pẹrẹpẹrẹpeu.
Ẹ̀pà pẹ̀ú, Ẹ̀pà pẹ̀ú
Pẹrẹpẹrẹpeu.
Ẹ̀pà pẹrẹpẹrẹpeu.
Ẹ̀pà pẹrẹpẹrẹpeu.
Ẹ̀pà pẹrẹpẹrẹpeu.

After a while Ijapa repeated the song, varying the volume and tempo, hoping that it would mystify its audience.

“Perhaps this might spur on all of them to dance away from the market yet again, in search of where they think the music is coming from”, he thought.

At first both women tapped their feet to the music, the friend still looking out for the thief. Then they started swaying their bodies from side to side to the rhythm of the beat and as the drumming became louder, Iya-Ẹlẹpa was the first to drop her igbakọ and start dancing.

The friend also got up to do the same, forgetting her mission there, and as the sound of the music fluctuated from high to low and vice versa, the two women began to dance away from the market, and towards the palace.

They seemed to have no thoughts about where the singing was coming from and who was beating the drum. Very soon practically almost everyone else in the market had joined in the dancing just as on the previous market day.

Ijapa crept out of the tunnel, looked right and left, and made for Iya-Ẹlẹpa’s stall, stealing her groundnuts. He also raided other stalls and hid some of the food in the tunnel, going up and down.

“After all, groundnuts alone would not get me far. I need to eat other things”, he reasoned with himself yet again. “Whatever I can’t carry home I’ll store in the tunnel.

Yet again Ijapa’s music had had an extraordinary effect on all the people in the market, especially on Iya-Ẹlẹpa.

They all continued to dance away, and very soon it looked as if they had lost their senses. In a short time, the stalls were empty, and just like the week before the people danced away from the market to the edge of the town, passing the palace on their way.

When Iya-Ẹlẹpa and the others came to their senses like before they were far away from the market – at the edge of the town – and other people were staring at them. They looked at each other and felt ashamed once more.

They went back to the market and found that not only had Iya-Ẹlẹpa’s been robbed of her groundnuts, but other stallholders as well.

“The thief has been at work yet again. He’s stolen not only Iya-Ẹlẹpa’s groundnuts, but also from other stallholders”, they were saying.

“But where was the drumming and singing coming from? I didn’t see anyone” Iya-Ẹlẹpa’s friend asked of no one in particular, still dazed from the whole experience.

“Neither did I” Iya-Ẹlẹpa said.

“But you were not supposed to. That was why I was there for goodness sake” the friend added.

“This is getting out of hand. Something is going on here, and whatever it is has to be stopped. We’ll be ruined if this continues”, one of the stallholders said.

“We have to call a meeting immediately”, another stallholder suggested, and someone was chosen to go around the market summoning all the others to a meeting.

At the meeting it was decided that the two incidents should be reported to the Ọba immediately. In those days, Ọbas played an important role in the day-to-day lives of their subjects, being called upon to settle disputes – no matter how small or inconsequential. An Ọba was expected to solve mysteries of any kind that baffled his subjects.

The Ọba was curious about the commotion he had heard twice now, on two consecutive weeks, but since nothing was reported to him, he did not give it any further thought.

“What do they mean by ‘we didn’t know what we were doing…?’ the Ọba asked in astonishment. “How could they have danced away from their stalls just because they heard drumming and singing?

How irresponsible! Perhaps they thought that there was a dancing competition taking place here in the palace and the drumming and singing were the trigger. They may have also believed that the best dancers would receive presents from us”.

“But they danced past the palace and did not stop dancing until they found themselves at the other end of town, Kabiyesi!”, one of the Ọba’s courtiers pointed out.

“Perhaps they thought that the competition was taking place there!” the Ọba replied.

“It could be magic, Kabiyesi. Maybe they were all in a trance.”
“There’s no magic involved, believe me.

Are most of these stallholders not women?” the Ọba wanted to know. “Our women get carried away when they hear music and love showing off their different moves to compete with each other. You can’t blame them. Their husbands and children put such demands on them, and they must have an outlet…”

“But Kabiyesi, there were men among them”.
“All the more reason! Naturally the men may have been attracted to some of these women anyway, and seized the opportunity to come closer to them, and the women would welcome this, under the circumstances…”

Nobody knew what to say to that, so they all laughed.

“It’s very simple”, the Ọba continued. “I’m going to send all our hunters to the market on the next market day, to guard the whole place. No one messes around with our hunters!”

Hunters, who were responsible for the safety of the town, warding off thieves and burglars, were ordered by the Ọba to attend the market place with their weapons on the next market day.

“Make sure you look out for this thief. Guard the surroundings well. I don’t want anything stolen from these market sellers. If the urge to dance overcomes them, stop them. Shoot in the air if necessary.”

“Leave everything to us, Kabiyesi.”

The hunters were the first to arrive on the scene in the morning of the next market day, standing guard around the stalls. A crowd, even bigger than on previous days, had gathered together to witness the arrest of the thief by the very impressive hunters.

Everyone was convinced that the thief would be caught. As the crowd moved in, the hunters kept them all back. Soon Iya-Ẹlẹpa and other market sellers arrived and started their daily routine – setting up their stalls, hawking their goods. Iya-Ẹlẹpa’s:

“Ẹlẹ́pà yíyan ré o! Ẹwa bà mi rà n’bẹ!” could be heard.

Buyers started to arrive, and for quite some time everything seemed to be going on as if nothing was about to happen – to everyone’s surprise and disappointment.

Ijapa had been lying low, waiting for them all, and was now following the goings on above-ground. Bits of conversations drifted into his ears:

“They mean to catch the thief” and “We’ll shoot in the air!” he knew instinctively that there were more people around and that something else was happening that day. He took no action for quite a while, even though he was convinced that Iya-Ẹlẹpa had roasted a substantial quantity of groundnuts. Alas, overcome by greed, he could not hold back any longer and soon he started his drumming and singing:

Ẹlẹ́pà yi, Ẹlẹ́pà yi Yonder groundnut seller
Pẹrẹpẹrẹpeu. crackling, crack, crack
Ò bá jó lọ bí Ọ̀yọ́ ilé Dance freely, anywhere and anyway you like
Pẹrẹpẹrẹpeu.
Ò bá jó lọ bí Ọ̀fà Mọjọ̀
Pẹrẹpẹrẹpeu.
Ǹg bá wò‘dí igbá dé ọ́ o

Then I’ll be able to watch over your stall
Pẹrẹpẹrẹpeu.
Groundnuts crack, groundnuts crack
crack
Ẹ̀pà pẹ̀ú, Ẹ̀pà pẹ̀ú
Pẹrẹpẹrẹpeu.
Ẹ̀pà pẹ̀ú, Ẹ̀pà pẹ̀ú
Pẹrẹpẹrẹpeu.
Ẹlẹ́pà yi, Ẹlẹ́pà yi Yonder groundnut seller
Pẹrẹpẹrẹpeu. crackling, crack, crack
Mà jó lọ bí Ọ̀yọ́ ilé Dance freely, anywhere and anyway you like
Pẹrẹpẹrẹpeu.
Mà jó lọ bí Ọ̀fà Mọjọ̀
Pẹrẹpẹrẹpeu.
Ǹg bá wò‘dí igbá dé ọ́ o Then I’ll be able to watch over your stall
Pẹrẹpẹrẹpeu.
Groundnuts crack, groundnuts crack
crack
Ẹ̀pà pẹ̀ú,Ẹ̀pà pẹ̀ú
Pẹrẹpẹrẹpeu.
Ẹ̀pà pẹ̀ú, Ẹ̀pà pẹ̀ú
Pẹrẹpẹrẹpeu.
Ẹ̀pà pẹrẹpẹrẹpeu.
Ẹ̀pà pẹrẹpẹrẹpeu.
Ẹ̀pà pẹrẹpẹrẹpeu.

Iya-Ẹlẹpa heard the music and as of the previous two times, she ended up leaving her stall and dancing away.

Soon others – buyers and sellers followed suit. The hunters, instead of shooting in the air as they had resolved to do, found themselves dropping their weapons instead, and following the dancers – dancing away from their posts. They seemed not to be in control of their actions, to be in a trance – to have forgotten that they were there to catch the “singing thief”.

Ijapa suddenly realised after some time that the coast was clear. He crept out once more, looked right and left, and started his stealing spree, making away with different wares, especially food.

When the market sellers and buyers came to their senses, they found themselves yet again at the edge of the town – far away from the market, and that the hunters were among them. They could not believe their eyes:

“What’re you doing here?”

“Where are your weapons?”

“Haven’t you been sent by the Ọba to guard the market?”

“Aren’t you responsible any more for the safety of this town – for keeping thieves and burglars away?”

“I used to be frightened of you whenever I saw you carrying your weapons. Well, I’m not going to be anymore”.

The hunters were embarrassed and shamefaced and could not look each other or the crowd in the eye, let alone answer their questions. They had no explanations for their deeds. They returned to the market to retrieve their weapons, dreading the Ọba’s wrath. At the market, the stalls had been raided as before.

“What do you mean you can’t explain what happened!” the Ọba roared. “This is appalling. Hunters who are here to protect this town, behaving in this shameful manner! How can anyone take you seriously again! You’re all incompetent.”

“Kabiyesi! Surely this shows that there’s magic involved here. An ordinary person can’t solve the problem for us. Perhaps the Ọsanyins…” one of the Ọba’s courtiers started.

Ọsanyins were very much like humans, but with the magical powers of iwins (spirits) and gifted in solving mysteries. They differed in appearance to humans because unlike humans, they did not have two legs and had as many as ten legs or just one.

“Nonsense! There must be a natural explanation for this. I refuse to believe it’s magic. After all we do have accomplished musicians at court, and nobody has ever got carried away with their music and danced away from the palace!” the Ọba insisted.

“Perhaps the hunters lost their heads seeing all the women dancing, moving their bodies provocatively to the music. Let’s not forget, hunters’ lives are hard – when last did they dance?”

Nobody said anything. There was no need to. The blame once again had been levelled at the women. However, the Ọba knew deep down that he could not justify the hunters’ behaviour any more than the market people’s. He also knew that something had to be done.

“Anyway, we must get to the bottom of whatever it is that is causing people to dance away from the market.”

Whenever anything baffled the Ọba to this extent he usually called a meeting inviting people far and wide.

“Other methods have to be used in catching this thief. It’s obvious that someone is playing a trick on us, and we have to outwit this trickster. Whoever helps us to catch this thief will be well rewarded”, the Ọba addressed his people after summoning them to a meeting.

“Don’t worry any more, Kabiyesi! I’ll help find this troublesome thief!”, Ọsanyin Elẹsẹkan (a one-legged ọsanyin) volunteered.

“You will?” the Ọba asked incredulously eyeing the Ọsanyin. “What makes you think you with one leg will succeed where others with two have failed? Perhaps an ọsanyin with three, four or five legs, but not you!”

“I’ll capture and bring this villain to the palace, rest assured, Kabiyesi!” Ọ
sanyin Elẹsẹkan continued.

“Very well”, said the Ọba resignedly. “What do we have to lose?! Be ready to catch the thief on the next market day”.

Days later, left to his own thoughts, it suddenly struck the Ọba that everyone had been more concerned about the effect of the thief’s music on the people – whether it was magic or not – when instead they should have been investigating where the music was coming from.

“Surely the best thing is to send one or two of my messengers out to search the area near Iya-Ẹlẹpa’s stall to find out where the drumming and singing could be heard? If it isn’t magic – and I don’t believe for an instant it is – since the thief must have materialised in order to loot the stalls, starting with Iya-Ẹlẹpa, then he must have been hiding around her stall”.

Weighed down by these thoughts, the Ọba summoned two of his servants.

“Go out to the market and search the whole area surrounding Iya-Ẹlẹpa’s stall, right to the nearby forest, and see what you can find. Iya-Ẹlẹpa’s stall is close to the entrance. The thief must have hidden somewhere there”.

The servants went out late in the afternoon with sticks and rakes and started to comb the area suggested by the Ọba, looking for clues. Just as they were about to abandon their endless search, one of the servants tripped and fell, landing on a bed of leaves. As he bent over to disentangle his shoes, removing vast chunks of leaves and twigs, he discovered the opening to the tunnel.

Entering the tunnel, the servants discovered that both ends were blocked with leaves, but also the food items, including the roasted groundnuts, hidden inside by Ijapa. The servants hurried back to report their discovery to the Ọba.

“There’s no doubt about it. This tunnel is the clue to this riddle.

Tomorrow is another market day. Go there, the two of you very early in the morning and hide somewhere nearby.

Make sure that you’re well armed”, the Ọba told the two men.

The following morning the two servants positioned themselves near the Iya-Ẹlẹpa’s end of the tunnel, behind trees, armed with heavy clubs, well hidden away from sight.

At another point, also well hidden from sight, behind a tree, was Ọsanyin Elẹsẹkan, armed with a sharp iron spike.

He had made a fire and stuck his iron spike into it, the spike now very hot, its tip blazing red.

After some time, stallholders started to arrive including Iya-Ẹlẹpa – to set up their stalls, and very soon the market was in full swing. As usual, one could hear sellers hawking and Iya-Ẹlẹpa’s “Ẹlẹ́pà yíyan ré o! Ẹwa bà mi rà n’bẹ!” after she had carried out her usual routine for roasting her groundnuts. Very soon the aroma of the delicious groundnuts filled the air.

The market was inundated with people – buyers and sellers, and spectators who had thronged there to witness yet another attempt at catching the thief. There were no hunters to keep them in check, but luckily the crowd did not get out of hand.

Ijapa, who had already installed himself near the tunnel, just below Iya-Ẹlẹpa’s seat, was listening to the goings-on above-ground, as usual. After he had given Iya-Ẹlẹpa sufficient time to roast a substantial quantity of groundnuts, he started the drumming and singing, unaware of what was in store for him.

Ẹlẹ́pà yi, Ẹlẹ́pà yi Yonder groundnut seller
Pẹrẹpẹrẹpeu. crackling, crack, crack
Ò bá jó lọ bí Ọ̀yọ́ ilé Dance freely, anywhere and anyway you like
Pẹrẹpẹrẹpeu.
Ò bá jó lọ bí Ọ̀fà Mọjọ̀
Pẹrẹpẹrẹpeu.
Ǹg bá wò‘dí igbá dé ọ́ o Then I’ll be able to watch over your stall
Pẹrẹpẹrẹpeu.
Groundnuts crack, groundnuts crack
crack
Ẹ̀pà pẹ̀ú, Ẹ̀pà pẹ̀ú
Pẹrẹpẹrẹpeu.
Ẹ̀pà pẹ̀ú, Ẹ̀pà pẹ̀ú
Pẹrẹpẹrẹpeu.
Ẹlẹ́pà yi, Ẹlẹ́pà yi Yonder groundnut seller
Pẹrẹpẹrẹpeu. crackling, crack, crack
Mà jó lọ bí Ọ̀yọ́ ilé Dance freely, anywhere and anyway you like
Pẹrẹpẹrẹpeu.
Mà jó lọ bí Ọ̀fà Mọjọ̀
Pẹrẹpẹrẹpeu.
Ǹg bá wò‘dí igbá dé ọ́ o Then I’ll be able to watch over your stall
Pẹrẹpẹrẹpeu.
Groundnuts crack, groundnuts crack
crack
Ẹ̀pà pẹ̀ú,Ẹ̀pà pẹ̀ú
Pẹrẹpẹrẹpeu.
Ẹ̀pà pẹ̀ú, Ẹ̀pà pẹ̀ú
Pẹrẹpẹrẹpeu.
Ẹ̀pà pẹrẹpẹrẹpeu.
Ẹ̀pà pẹrẹpẹrẹpeu.
Ẹ̀pà pẹrẹpẹrẹpeu.

Iya-Ẹlẹpa started her routine of dancing away, joined by the others, and very soon there was nothing left to be seen except the dust that was stirred up underneath their feet as they danced far and far away from the market – as they swung their bodies, from right to left, backward and forward, and lowered them to the ground. Ọsanyin Elẹsẹkan heard the music where he was but dared not dance, after all he only had one leg!

When there was quiet around, Ijapa crept out, looked right and left as he usually did, ready to loot the stalls – starting with Iya-Ẹlẹpa’s. He became oblivious of his surroundings instantly. His eyes feasted on the roasted groundnuts and the aroma filled his nostrils.

He started closing in on the nuts – until he felt a powerful, muscle-jerking, burning and piercing sensation in his nose.

The Ọsanyin Elẹsẹkan had removed his blazing hot, sharp iron spike from the fire and unknown to Ijapa and struck Ijapa in the nose with it. Ijapa screamed, writhing in pain.

“Caught you!” Ọsanyin Elẹsẹkan said. He removed the spike and held it ready to strike once more – this time aiming for Ijapa’s back. As he struck him, the two servants, who had heard the music but were not swayed by it, being well prepared for it, rushed out with their heavy clubs and started clubbing Ijapa at the back, knocking him to the ground.

Ijapa, a soft animal, skin as soft as a lizard’s or a frog’s, with no outer shell to protect him, found himself squealing and yelping in agony. He was utterly defenceless.

“So, it’s you who has been conjuring all these tricks. To the palace!” Ọsanyin Elẹsẹkan ordered him.

“Please…Please, don’t kill me…”, he pleaded with his foes, who paid him no attention.

Ọsanyin Elẹsẹkan I’m your slave!”

Ọsanyin Elẹsẹkan grabbed and held Ijapa high up with his weapon, marching to the palace, the two servants in tow. As they proceeded to the palace, they aroused the curiosity of bystanders and soon they were being followed by a huge crowd, including children who started throwing stones at Ijapa, shouting:

“Thief! Thief!”

By the time they got to the palace, Ijapa was in a bad way, weeping bitterly, screaming and wailing. His back was badly bruised and he could hardly walk – a pitiable sight.

“I can’t go through this ever again. If only I had something sturdy to cover my back. to protect me from all this pain – I need…a hard shell? Ijapa was thinking.”

Fulfilling his promise, Ọsanyin Elẹsẹkan received much praise and a hefty reward from the Ọba and soon set off from the palace.

“I don’t believe my eyes! So, it’s you, Ijapa, who’s been creating mischief, drumming and singing to lure people away from their stalls”, the Ọba said to a pain-stricken and forlorn Ijapa, who could barely stand up at his trial.

“You’ve behaved atrociously, stealing not only Iya-Ẹlẹpa’s groundnuts, but also other things from the market stalls”.

Ijapa cowered his head, incapable of uttering a single word.

“Kabiyesi!” Ijapa started, struggling to speak. “Mercy! My judgment has been pronounced already…look at all my injuries” he groaned. “I promise Kabiyesi that I’ll put my drumming and singing skills to better use. I’ll never use my music to trick people again, only to entertain”.

The Ọba’s ears pricked when Ijapa mentioned his music. He considered the matter for some time, the entire court and Ijapa waiting in anticipation.

Finally he said:

“I’ll grant your plea for mercy, Ijapa. No other injuries will be inflicted on your person, as you have suffered enough.”

A huge, collective gasp was heard across the court and a sigh of relief from Ijapa, who was nodding effusively.

“Thank you, Kabiyesi!” Ijapa put in quickly, still struggling to regain his speech between moans.

“As for the drumming and singing skills you boast of,” continued the Ọba, “Surely they cannot equal those of my own court musicians whose music has a profound effect on all who hear it, drawing even the most unwilling feet to dance. It’s diverting, enchanting…”

“With due respect my drumming and singing skills are unique. My music does not only draw the most unwilling feet to dance, it also makes people dance away. Can the same be said of your court musicians?” he added boldly.

“Nonsense!” the Ọba exclaimed. “Do you seriously believe those people danced away because of your music? There are logical explanations for their behaviour, rest assured. No music on this earth can have such an effect on others!”

“I can assure Kabiyesi that if I’m invited to drum and sing here, you, Kabiyesi and your courtiers will react the same way to the tune as the market people. You’ll dance away from the palace”, Ijapa dared to say even though speaking was still a struggle.

“If we haven’t up to now done so to the music of experts in the land, why should we to your music? I’ve already told you that we’re used to diverting, hypnotic music all the time at the palace. Those market people, and even the hunters, are obviously not “, the Ọba insisted, and before he realised it he found himself saying:

“Anyone whose music can make us dance away from the palace will be handsomely rewarded – showered with money and valuable gifts”.

“I don’t think we should promise anything like this, Kabiyesi!”, one of the Ọba’s advisers present put in quickly, aghast. “Think of all the people who’ve danced away. The same thing can still happen here. I tell you it’s magic…”.

Unfortunately, his curiosity and bafflement had got the better of him and the Ọba simply had to get to the bottom of Ijapa’s claims about his music.

“Nonsense! You all worry too much! I’ve made the promise and will stand by it. Magic indeed! It’d be a miracle if this kind of thing ever happened here and I don’t believe in miracles!”

As the Ọba talked, Ijapa, still suffering from his injuries, wondered again about procuring a hard shell to cover his back, when suddenly an idea came to him.

“It won’t be a miracle, Kabiyesi! It can easily be done! All I need is my drum which is inside the tunnel, just below Iya-Elepa’s stall”, he dared to suggest.

“This creature is so sure of himself. It’d be good to see him fall flat on his face!” the Ọba was thinking.

“All right, Ijapa. You’re invited to stay here and recover from your wounds. In the meantime, I’ll send someone to collect the drum, and we’ll see! You can perform your wonders!”

Immediately the Ọba sent someone to the market where news about Ijapa’s arrest had spread and was the talk of the town. Ijapa was installed in a room in the palace’s courtyard and given food and drink and subsequently reunited with his drum. His wounds having been tended to, he was allowed to move freely within the courtyard, to his utmost delight. He remembered not so long ago, passing by the palace for the first time, fantasising about spending just one day there!

“Am I actually here – in this palace – and being treated like a king, and not just for one day!?” he asked himself.

Ijapa was not the only one who was asking this question. Everyone in the palace could not believe the Ọba’s leniency towards him, which they concluded was due to the Oba’s preoccupation with Ijapa’s music, his wanting to prove Ijapa wrong.

However, a few days later the Ọba had forgotten about Ijapa and his boasts – he had so many other things going on at the palace to occupy his time and mind.

So, when he and his courtiers heard drumming and singing one evening, they started to tap their feet to the tune, and then sway from right to left. This was not an unusual occurrence at the palace because there were musicians present at all times.

As the music got louder and the drumming stronger though, they left whatever they were doing and started to dance in earnest. As the sound of the music fluctuated – from high to low and vice versa – the Ọba was the first to dance away from the palace. His courtiers followed him as if they were all in a trance. They all danced away in the streets, and after a while the Ọba’s crown fell off his head.

It was not until they had reached the edge of the town and noticed everyone staring, pointing, and laughing at them that they came to their senses.

“What’re we doing here?” the Ọba asked looking at his surroundings. “What’s happened to us?”

“We don’t know, Kabiyesi!”

“The drumming, the singing…It can’t be…Ijapa!?” the Ọba exclaimed.

“The scoundrel has made fools of all of us, Kabiyesi!” one of the courtiers said.

“Let’s go back to the palace at once”, ordered the Ọba, wondering to himself how “How will I be able to hold my head up after this?”
When they got to the palace and the Ọba was irritated to learn that it was indeed Ijapa who was responsible for the drumming and singing.

He who was known to be able to solve mysteries that baffled his subjects was himself now baffled.

“Ijapa, I demand explanations”, he roared.

Ijapa was suddenly afraid that the Ọba might change his mind about the reward promised to anyone who could accomplish what he had just done.

He quickly searched his brains for what to say.

“Kabiyesi! I can solve the mystery for you. I once observed someone drumming and singing and was captivated by the music. It was enchanting, diverting…. The musician had a way of touching the instrument as if caressing it, a way of looking fixedly as he played and sang.

He looked as if he was in a trance. People started dancing immediately!”

The Ọba and his courtiers listened attentively to Ijapa but said nothing. So Ijapa continued.

“I observed him again and again after that and practised his techniques. Kabiyesi, you said your court musicians’ music is equally diverting; this convinces me that they apply the same techniques. However, to lure Iya-Ẹlẹpa away from her stall, I devised a plan, hoping it would work, and was just lucky it did”.
Ijapa went on to describe his ploy of singing about Iya-Ẹlẹpa, about varying the sound of the music – from high to low and vice versa – hoping it would lend mystery to the whole experience, make people wonder where the music was coming from, hopefully making them dance away in search of the music.

“I honestly can’t explain how it worked – not only on Iya-Ẹlẹpa, but on the others, including you and your courtiers, Kabiyesi. I apologise for what I’ve done yet again”.

The Ọba considered Ijapa’s explanations, which still baffled him, but also pleased him.

“There are things that can never be understood fully”, he said. “The other day I promised to give money and valuable goods to anyone whose music could make us dance away from the palace. I stand by every word and will keep my promise.

However, I must tell you, Ijapa, that you don’t deserve to be set free from the crime you’ve committed – stealing at the market. I’m going to send word to the Ọba of your town to let him know about all your misdeeds and advise him to drive you away from Magunwa. You are also never to show your face in Idaho!”

Ijapa took his leave as soon as he was given the money and valuable goods, afraid that the Ọba might change his mind.

When Ijapa got back to Magunwa he immediately put into action the idea that had struck him after he sustained his injuries.

He sold the valuable goods he had received from the Ọba of Idaha and added the proceeds to the money given him. He went and bought a very hard shell out of the money and covered his back with it before he was driven away from Magunwa. The shell miraculously stuck.

“From now on I’m going to be safe from any attack with either a club or a sharp object, with this shell on my back. It’ll protect me from any foes. No one can overpower me again”, he promised himself. “I’m also going to work so that no one can insult me again like Iya-Ẹlẹpa did…Yes, farming should be interesting, and I have the money to buy a farm”, he resolved.

This was how Ijapa got his shell. From then on, he always had this very hard shell at his back.

Any time he feared attack, he would immediately pull his head, hands, and legs inside the shell.