9. Ijapa (Tortoise) and Jigborere, Oluwo’s Son

Many, many years ago, in Ijafa, a town in a faraway land, there was a man called Oluwo who had a son, Jigborere (popularly known as Rere). Oluwo was blessed with good health; he was wealthy, contented with his life, popular and very successful at his work.

A renowned farmer, Oluwo hoped that one day Rere would follow in his footstep. As was the custom Rere was taken to his father’s farm as soon as he was old enough to help, to be groomed into a fine farmer. However, Oluwo knew that when the time came for his son to decide on a career, he ould not put pressure on him to choose farming; he would leave him to make his own choice.

“That boy has a mind of his own”, Oluwo once commented to his wife, on a trait that Rere had indeed shown from an early age. “Not necessarily a bad thing”, he added.

“But he also likes having his own way and is very stubborn”, Rere’s mother pointed out.

“Well, that’s not surprising since we’ve spoilt him rotten”, Oluwo said regretfully.

Rere, an only child, was much loved by his parents. His parents, in fact, always gave him everything, and allowed him to do anything, he wanted.

“Well, let’s look on the bright side. Rere is very handsome, well-built, tall and strong. He’s very popular. He’s very friendly and kind-hearted”, Rere’s mother said quickly not wanting to dwell too long on her son’s faults. “He’s adventurous and brave – not afraid of challenges”, she continued, mindful of these other traits of her son.

“Yes, but he’s too daring, bold and brash” added Oluwo not swayed by any undue sentiments about his son.

“Oh! Don’t let’s forget how talented he is in singing; his voice is divine! When people hear him sing they feel like just packing up whatever they’re doing and dance! Perhaps he should consider taking up singing as a profession!”

Rere’s mother continued, preferring to focus on her son’s good points.

So, Rere’s answer did not come as a surprise when one day his father said to him:

“Rere, you’re old enough to decide on what you want to do.”

“What would you like to be, so that I can guide you in your choice?”

“I’ve always wanted to be a hunter, father – a deep forest hunter.”

It was true that since childhood Rere had been fascinated by stories about hunting – deep forest hunting. He had often pictured himself in a hunter’s attire, with his own hunting gear slung across one shoulder, holding a gun, and stalking animals. Rere believed that the secret to deep forest hunting was to be brave, own a fully-loaded gun and know how to use it well.

Rere’s father was afraid because deep forest hunting (hunting for buffaloes, elephants, leopards, lions etc.) was a difficult and dangerous job.

“A hunter! You want to be a deep forest hunter?!”, Oluwo exclaimed. “But deep forest hunters need training and there’s nobody in my family who can give you that kind of training – or among my friends for that matter. Deep forest hunting requires special skills. It’s not something one undertakes lightly. I understand that certain charms and medicine are even required to ward off dangers, and who would point us in the right direction?”

Rere said nothing.

“A deep forest hunter must be good at hitting its target. You’ve never even held a gun before”, Olowu continued. “I want you to think very carefully about this. Deep forest hunting is not as easy as all that.”

“Father, this is what’s first and foremost in my mind. As I’ve said, I’ve always wanted to be a hunter since childhood”, Rere answered. “I don’t need to have special skills to be able to kill animals or charms to ward off dangers I’m sure. All I need is a well-loaded gun at my disposal. Once I have it in my hand – that’s it, the rest is easy!” he continued excitedly.

Oluwo knew that there was more to hunting than that, especially deep forest hunting.

“It’s not just expertise in shooting wild animals that’s required, Rere. One risks death in the forest, especially at night, from these same animals – even the most experienced hunters”, Oluwo pointed out, hoping that his son would see reason.

“But father, I wouldn’t be wandering around in the forest at night!” Rere exclaimed, hesitated and then continued “But even if I find myself there at night, I’ll have my head lamp, so I’ll be able to see my way around”.

“You don’t even know the forest very well. Supposing you lose your way, and there’s nobody around, how would you get help? How would you get home?” Oluwo asked, frantic with worry by now.

“Stop worrying father. I’ll be back everyday before nightfall, with wild games?” Rere replied light-heartedly, hoping to reassure his father.

“Don’t forget father” he added quickly. “If one is well equipped and appropriately dressed the risks are minimal even if one finds oneself there at night. A hunter needs to be brave – to be ready to take risks”.

Rere just refused to listen to what his father was saying – to be swayed.

Thereafter, Rere’s parents tried and tried to dissuade him from taking this career path, to no avail. In the end they gave in. His father went and bought Rere all the necessary clothing for hunting: hunting vests and hunting caps with ear flaps, socks, shirts and trousers. He also bought the hunting gear required: a hunter’s lamp and knapsack, a hunting bow and arrow, a cutlass, a sharp hunting knife, and a loaded gun in a soft gun-case.

“Why don’t we let Rere practise hunting with tame animals to gain some experience as a hunter. Rere’s mother suggested to Oluwo when she saw all the things the latter had bought for their son. She was still unable to face the thought of Rere going into the deep forest to hunt.

“Our farm is very big”, she continued quickly when she saw a questioning look on her husband’s face. “You can clear a grassy stretch of land and fence it. We can put a few tame animals there – you know, goats, sheep, rams, lambs, cattle, and he can practise shooting at them or targeting them with his bow and arrow, and other hunting tools.”

“Or we can ask him to turn the animals out of the stretch of land and let them roam around. He can then go and hunt for them – lie in wait, set baits, make use of his bow and arrow, cutlass, hunting knife and gun.” Oluwo piped in, catching on rapidly to what his wife was saying, and bawled over by the idea.

Oluwo did as his wife suggested. The day after the stretch of land was fenced Rere’s mother went to the market and bought two goats (she did not want to buy anything else until she was sure her plan would work). She then called Rere and told him what she and his father had in mind.
As she was talking, Rere’s father arrived with two lambs. He too wanted to make sure their plan would work before buying anything else.

“What kind of hunting is that?! ”Rere exclaimed in disgust, astounded. “I’ll ruin my reputation as a hunter even before starting! Real hunting is for me – deep forest hunting for elephants, lions, buffaloes, leopards, etc, and not hunting for tame animals, and in our farm yard!” Rere added bluntly and adamantly.

In the end his parents gave in.

“Today is just right for hunting! Look at how clear the sky is already!” Rere said to his parents early one morning a few days later.

It did in fact look as if the sun would shine very brightly.
“Please don’t go Rere…I can’t bear to lose sight of you” his mother said, bursting into tears, distressed. His father tried not to cry, but as he put his arms round his wife, he too started crying and very soon the two of them were wailing.

Rere was too excited to take any notice of them. He had been looking forward to this day for a long time – the day he would see himself geared up as a hunter. He started getting ready, eager to put into full use all the equipment and clothing that his father had bought and determined to prove that he was right in choosing this career path.
He put on a pair of socks, a shirt and a pair of smart khaki trousers and his hunting clothes: a light vest, a hunting cap with ear flaps. Then he tied a hunting bow and arrow kit around his waist, slung a hunting knapsack, with its contents, across one shoulder, his loaded gun on the other. A cutlass (in its sheath) in his hand completed his hunting gear. He was very happy indeed.

“How do I look?” he asked his parents, trying to make light of the situation. He did in fact look smart.

“I’ll be back before dark, don’t worry” he added, seeing the anxious expression on his parents’ faces and before either of them could say anything further, he set off for the deep forest, in search of elephants, buffaloes, leopards etc.

Rere walked and walked about in the dense forest and found nothing; there were no animals around – elephants, buffaloes, leopards, etc.

The forest was quiet except for the sound of crickets and the chirping sound of birds. An owl hooted from time to time. There was no one around except a few other hunters, and in no time, they were all talking to each other.

“Where’re the elephants, buffaloes, and other animals then?” Rere asked one of the hunters, called Ogunmọla.

“The animals are not always to be found”, Ogunmọla said.

“It’s just a matter of luck – if you’re lucky to be there at the right time”.

“Is this your first time here?” Ogunmọla added when he saw Rere’s crestfallen expression.

“Yes”, Rere replied, clearly disappointed.

“But we may still be lucky”, Ogunmọla said in a reassuring manner.

“This is why hunters use powerful medicines (oogun) for luck in finding animals to shoot you know”, another hunter added quickly.

“Sometimes when we shoot in the air, the animals appear before us, thanks to these medicines”, another hunter said proudly, and did just that, but nothing happened.

“This is also one of the reasons why even before a hunter comes here to hunt for the first time, it’s a must for him to offer sacrifices to all the necessary gods (orisas)”, another hunter offered.

Rere nodded, but it was obvious that he was still hoping to find animals to shoot that day – that he did not believe in any of the things these hunters were talking about. Had he not said as much to his father when the latter broached with him the subject of hunters using certain medicines and charms.

The hunters walked about for quite a while longer in the forest during which there was still no sign of a single animal, wading through swamps, shrubs, pine-bushes and pine-needles, plant, thistles and thorns that lashed at them.

“Surely this is not all there is to hunting” Rere wondered, disappointed.

“Let’s call it a day”, suggested Ogunmọla after a while.
“We may as well”, replied one of the other hunters. “Doubt if we’ll find anything before dark”.

“I can’t return home empty-handed. I may as well not call myself a hunter if I do that”, Rere blurted out, aghast.
“It doesn’t matter”, Ogunmọla said.

“It’s all right for you. You’re not new at this,” Rere answered stubbornly.

“Believe me there’s a lot more to being a hunter than worrying about returning home empty-handed. It’s better not to linger on for too long. It’s risky to be in this swampy forest when it’s dark”, Ogunmọla advised him.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be out of here before it gets dark” Rere answered. “Just one animal…” he added wistfully.

The other hunters left the forest unable to persuade Rere to leave with them.

Rere continued deeper and deeper into the forest with no further sign of a single animal. Then he came to a clearing and caught sight of a big tree with wide-spreading branches near the edge of a big river. Sunlight was dancing on the river. A very short pebbled footpath led from the base of the tree to the water’s edge.

“I’d better stop to rest for a while here and then hunt just a little longer before going home” Rere decided, heading for the tree. He put down his hunting gear under its shade, sat down and helped himself to some of the food and drink brought along with him. He then fell into a deep sleep immediately after; he was more tired than he knew.

Rere was woken up by what started off as a sudden gust of wind soon to develop into a very strong wind. By now the skies had clouded over above him. He got up quickly, turned on his hunting lamp, gathered together his belongings, but the lamp went out immediately throwing the whole of the forest into complete darkness. There were constant flashes of lightening and heavy thunder in the sky as the gale continued with its deafening swirling noise sweeping through the whole of the forest.  “I must get out of here,” Rere said to himself, shaking with fright.

Trees started swaying from right to left, branches breaking off and knocking against each other with a deafening noise. Some smaller, narrower trees became uprooted completely, unable to withstand the impact of the wind. In a short while the forest became a tangled mess – a swampy forest which, nevertheless, boasted of different types of trees – some of them tall and narrow and elegant looking (palm, coconut, pine) and clusters of not so tall fine-looking trees and bayous. Trees entangled with shrubs and bushes, falling against rocks and mounds. Plants, wild flowers, thorns and thistles and pine-needles were scattered all over the place.

In all this commotion Rere could not find his way out of the forest and he was terribly afraid.

Very soon there was a torrential rainstorm pouring down with a vengeance.

“Oh! What have I done!” Rere said aloud, and very soon he was drenched from head to toe, the torrential rain turning rapidly into a whirlpool at his feet and gushing into every nook and corner of the forest including the farms around and the big river near Rere’s ‘resting place’.

Rere spotted a tree in the distance that seemed relatively untouched by the thunderstorm.

“I’d better take shelter under that tree”, he decided rushing forward. But no sooner did he get there that the base of the tree was swamped by the rainstorm. He had to escape quickly from the tree to avoid being knocked on the head but one of the branches slapped his face and hit his shoulder and his gun was knocked off. Then he lost his balance and fell, scrapping his hand, and some rocks slid out from under his shoes.

In the struggle Rere lost the rest of his belongings – his cap and his knapsack, his bow and arrow kit, and his cutlass.
“Oh, what have I done?” Rere kept on asking himself.

The thunderstorm continued relentlessly and in full force. The whole area was flooded. Rere was so badly shaken and so distressed that he started to cry. He was only a boy after all, and no matter how brave he was normally this experience was shattering. Here he was all alone in this dense forest, marginally escaping death, and not knowing what would happen next. He did not know what was lurking around; he could not see anything without his lamp. He did not think that he would be attacked by any wild animals in the thunderstorm but he was too frightened to be sure.

“I should have listened to everyone,” he moaned and then broke down completely, wailing openly.

“What am I going to do? I can’t see anything without my lamp. I can’t see where I’m going – what’s on the ground. Supposing I step on a snake and it bites me?” he wondered, shivering uncontrollably.

No sooner had he said this that he jumped out of the way when a sudden flash of lightening revealed what he thought looked like a snake crawling rapidly towards him. Rere screamed and jumped out of its way without knowing where he was going, knocking against trees and branches amidst shrubs and bushes, rocks, mounds and the rest of the tangled mess, falling down and getting up again. He only knew he had to get away from this forest.

The whole place was swamped by water. Rere kept on running at full speed not knowing that he was now stepping on the short, pebbled footpath that led from the base of the tree (his earlier resting place) to the bank of the river. Then he suddenly slipped, fell into the river and was swept rapidly away by its current; he was dragged on and on.

“This’s all I need. I can’t even swim”, he said mournfully, struggling, his feet not even touching the bottom of the river. I’m going to die for sure.”
___________________________________________________________

When Rere looked up he was hit on the head by a tree that was floating on the river. He quickly stretched out his hand and grabbed it, held on to it tightly. With his head above water he was able to breathe well as he and the tree were swept away by the fast current. Then he lost all consciousness.

When he regained consciousness, he found himself on the river bank where he had been swept by the current.

Miraculously he was still alive. He was now on the other side of the river. There was no sign of the tree, his earlier ‘resting place’, or his belongings on the opposite side, but from where he was now one could see the back-yard of a small thatched-roof dwelling, relatively untouched by the thunderstorm, and further down, the back-yards of a cluster of similar looking dwellings. Unknown to Rere, a tortoise, Ijapa lived in the dwelling that stood alone, and nearby was a village called Isalẹ-Odo.

In those days a very long time ago humans and animals lived side by side, intermingling freely. They had a lot in common. Animals spoke like human beings and generally behaved the same way – some animals possessing remarkable physical and mental capabilities. The tortoise, Ijapa, was an example of this phenomenon.

Ijapa was very popular in some quarters – among both humans and animals – although he was often up to no good. He got into trouble for his misdeeds, with serious consequences – punishments, personal injury, sentence to death or banishment from where he lived. He was a cunning, devious, and wily creature, full of mischief and pranks. He was boastful and at the same time known to have come up with solutions to problems which others could not solve.

On this same morning Ijapa woke up to go and fetch water from the river as he normally did. He looked out of his window and saw Rere on the bank of the river and among the debris – broken branches, trees, shrubs, etc that had been swept ashore.

“Are my eyes deceiving me or is it a human being over there among the debris? I’d better go and see, and if he’s still alive, rescue him.”

Rere looked bloated – as if he had swallowed a lot of water – and ghastly; he seemed on the point of death.

“What’s happened to you?” Ijapa asked, lifting him up. The boy was so weak and did not have any strength left to answer.

“Look at you – you’re freezing” Ijapa continued as Rere said nothing but was shivering, uncontrollably, his teeth chattering.

“Your hands and feet are completely white. You must have been in the water for a long time.”

Rere had indeed been in the rainstorm for quite a while before he lost his foothold and slipped into the river. So, it was not surprising the state he was in by the time Ijapa found him.

“You’ll die if you stay here. I’ll take you home with me” Ijapa continued, sympathetically.

Ijapa carried Rere home to take good care of him.

“Here, remove your wet clothes and put these dry ones on” he told Rere indicating the dry clothes. Rere could hardly lift himself up, so Ijapa had to help him.

“Now you can sit near the fire whilst you eat. I’ll make some food.

Ijapa had already found some sticks and had made wood fire as soon as they got to his house. After eating, aided by Ijapa, and sitting next to the fire, Rere felt better.

“Thank you. I feel better now” he told Ijapa and because he was so tired, he fell asleep immediately. He did not wake up until late in the evening. Ijapa fed him and he promptly went back to sleep.

“Who are you and how did you happen to be among the trees, branches, mounds etc on the river bank?” Ijapa asked Rere when the latter woke up the following morning.

“I’m Jigborere, Oluwo’s son, but people call me Rere.” Rere, who seemed to have recovered from his ordeal, recounted the whole experience of the day before.
“I’ve lost everything – my knapsack, my bow and arrow kit, my cutlass and my knife, and most important of all, my gun. I don’t even have any money. How am I going to get home? My parents must be worried sick about me” he added and made as if to get up.

Ijapa stopped him.

“But you don’t know your way around. You may get lost again and again in the forest and it would be dangerous for you to roam around without your hunting gear and equipment” Ijapa advised. Then an idea struck him. Surely if he were to succeed in reuniting Rere with his parents he would be well rewarded.

“I can find out where his parents live, go and meet them, and demand a lot of money in exchange for Rere’s whereabouts” Ijapa was thinking.

“Why don’t you stay here until you regain your strength fully? I’ll help you get back home. I’ll find out from people around here if they know your town and have heard about your father, Oluwo” Ijapa suggested to Rere.

“Besides, I’m sure your father will send out people to look for you, and sooner or later they’ll come to the village near us” he added, judging by the information he had gathered from Rere about his father’s circumstances.

“This will take some time. How am I going to live in the meantime?”

“You can continue to stay here. I’ll take care of you” Ijapa offered.

“But I don’t have any money. How will I be able to pay you?” Rere asked.

“Don’t worry. You can just help me around. It won’t be for long.” Ijapa was known for his laziness. He had an aversion to work – not known to do any honest work unless he could not help it. He generally relied on the kindness of others (friends, neighbours, etc) or on tricking them, to obtain food.

Rere agreed to take care of the house for Ijapa. He had no choice; he did not know where he was let alone how to get home. Ijapa did not allow Rere to go out, and always kept the house locked at all times, on the pretext that Rere did not know his way about the area and could get lost.

“I’m sure my parents will put out a search for me as Ijapa has suggested” Rere reassured himself and did not protest.

As we said before Rere loved to sing and he had a good voice. So, to keep up his spirits he would sing as he worked in the house. His singing very quickly attracted the attention of people passing by Ijapa’s dwelling who would stop to listen.

Ijapa was hardly seen coming in and going out, let alone a visitor. Ijapa liked living alone – not too close to anyone, so that nobody knew what he was up to at any time, whether he worked or not, and if he worked what he did. His dwelling stood alone so he could go in and out as he wished.

“Doesn’t it sound wonderful?” one passer-by said to another, referring to the singing, a few days later.

“It makes you want to dance and dance. No one else lives here, I’m sure, so who knows where the music is coming from?” the other passer-by replied.

Very soon Ijapa noticed that a lot of people were gathering together to dance near his house when they heard Rere singing.

“We can hear singing from your house, Ijapa. We don’t understand…” one of the passer-bys asked Ijapa, when they caught a glimpse of him.

“Oh! I’ve just bought a magical drum that sings”, he answered, not wanting them to know about Rere and his circumstances until he had worked out in his mind how Rere’s situation would benefit him fully.

“A magical drum that sings?” asked the bewildered man. “Never heard of it before.”

Suddenly Ijapa was struck by an idea, and he smacked his forehead.

“This is much better than any reward I’ll receive for rescuing Rere. This will make me rich again!”

Ijapa knew that no other reward could rival the reward he had received at Jakọta, where he was living before (with the exception of the one he received at Magunwa, where he had also lived before). He had used tricks to help the Ọba (ruler) of Jakọta, to get rid of an elephant who had been causing a lot of problems for humans and had been given a lot money and valuable goods. Unfortunately, Ijapa had become intoxicated by his ‘fortune’, and his lifestyle had changed completely.

He thought money was everything; it made him feel powerful – able to do anything he wanted. He flaunted it in others’ faces, spending it lavishly, foolishly – on unnecessary things. He spent it on women, forgetting that he could go back to Teregun, where he had lived with his estranged wife, Yannibo, and his children, before they left him to go and live with Yannibo’s parents, just outside Teregun – forgetting that his not providing for his family was one of the root causes of their estrangement.

Ijapa’s money had eventually run out, and since then nobody knew where he lived or what he did with his life until now. Now he was thinking that he could have a big drum made on wheels, put Rere inside, take a large piece of skin and cover the mouth of the drum in the usual way. He could then make a hole lower down on one side of the drum to allow air in. On the other side of the drum would be a makeshift window through which he could pass food and drink to Rere. He would make some arrangements for Rere’s toilet and bathing needs and dressing.

“I can use the drum to entertain people everywhere I go. They’ll pay me, and I’ll be rich!” he thought excitedly.
Ijapa had the drum made the following day, and in the evening, he drugged the unsuspecting Rere, and put him inside. He then took a large piece of skin of a giant rat and covered the mouth of the drum, made a hole on one side of the drum and a makeshift window on the other side as planned.

When Rere woke up the following morning he felt very uncomfortable. He was hot and bothered and cramped. He was shocked and bewildered to find himself imprisoned in what he suspected must be a big drum. He was frightened – even more frightened than he was out there in the forest on the day of the thunderstorm.

“Please let me out” he wailed, in a pitiful voice.

“I’m sorry I can’t” Ijapa heard him and replied. “From now on I’m going to carry you around in this drum and whenever I give you the command – that is tap the drum with a stick, you will sing. You’re my magical drum, you understand. You have a beautiful voice and a voice like that should not be left to waste. People have been dancing to your songs and I’m sure they’ll be ready to pay me to do so.”

Rere could not believe his ears and thought that Ijapa had taken leave of his senses – Ijapa who had been so kind to him.

“But you can’t do this to me. You can’t imprison me in this drum and command me to do as you wish. It’s inhuman! I’m not your slave!” Rere cried out frantically, sweating profusely, heart beating wildly as if about to burst. This was the worst experience in his life.

“You have no choice. If you don’t do as I say there’ll be no food for you. Nobody knows you’re here. I can even go away and leave you here to die. Supposing I had left you to die on the river bank?”

Ijapa threatened Rere in all sorts of ways, although he was not sure, deep down, if or how long he might be able to get away with this trick. Rere could defy him, shout for help instead of singing to his command. What then? Ijapa thought about it for a while. He was good at drumming and singing, but not everyone knew this.

“If this were to happen, I can quickly down out Rere’s voice by beating the drum and singing and wheeling it away” he thought. “Besides I can always make up stories about the drum. For example, I can tell people that shouting and any movements from the drum are part of the drum’s magical powers, a warning that the drum is not ready to sing and needs to rest” he thought.

Ijapa doubted that anyone would want to believe that there is a human being imprisoned in the drum and knew that they would be afraid to find out. At any rate no one except an Ọba (ruler) could force him to tear the drum open at any given time, and if this were to happen, he would have made enough money by then, he was sure.

Rere who was also thinking along similar lines as Ijapa, came to the conclusion that shouting for help would be futile. Then an idea struck him.

“I’ll just make sure that the main song I sing is about myself and about what has happened to me. Surely people will listen and realize what’s going on, and that there’s no magic involved.”

That evening Ijapa put his “magical drum” in front of his house and when people were passing by, he tapped it with a stick and gave the command:

Ilu mi, dun kẹkẹkẹ, Give the “kẹkẹkẹ” sound, my drum!
Ilu mi, dun kakaka, Give the “kakaka” sound, my drum!
Ilu mi, s’ọrọ ẹnu rẹ ki ngbọ My drum, let’s hear what you have to say!

He asked the drum to entertain them with its songs, and its “kẹkẹkẹ” and “kakaka” sounds.

Rere started to sing as follows:

Rere o, Rere ọmọ Oluwo, (Rere o, Rere, Oluwo’s Son)
Agbamurere
Rere o, Rere ọmọ Oluwo,
Agbamurere.
Iya f’ewurẹ ‘lẹ, o ni ng k’ọdẹ ṣe, (Mother made goats available for my hunting training)
Agbamurere.
Baba f’aguntan ‘lẹ, o ni ng k’ọdẹ ṣe (Father made lambs available for my hunting training)
Agbamurere.
Mo l’o d’igbo Ẹfọn, o d’igbo Erin, (I said that I was heading for deep forest hunting (hunting for buffaloes, hunting for elephants))
Agbamurere.
Agbara-ojo l’o fa mi lẹsẹ mo yẹ gẹrẹ, (There was a torrential rainstorm turning rapidly into a whirlpool at my feet making, me slip)
Agbamurere.
Mo yẹ gẹrẹ s’odo, mo ba d’ẹru Ahun, (I slipped, fell into the river and became Ahun’s slave) (Ahun = one of Ijapa’s nicknames)
Agbamurere.
Kiriji, Kiriji, kẹnkẹlukẹ
Agbamurere

Kiriji, Kiriji, kẹnkẹlukẹ
Agbamurere

Rere sang one or two other songs as he went along but would always go back to sing this first one. Just as foreseen people stopped to listen to his singing, and to dance to the sweet melody. Word must have spread instantly because quite soon the place was filled with people – men and women from Isalẹ-Odo, the village nearby.

“How can an ordinary drum sing like a human-being?” exclaimed one man in astonishment.

“The drum must have magical powers” someone else suggested.

“Or is it Ijapa who has magical powers?” another man asked.

Unfortunately, nobody listened to the words of Rere’s songs because everyone was in raptures over the rhythm of the music, the melody, and Rere’s voice which was having an enticing, hypnotic effect on them. Ijapa himself had got carried away with his outstanding success and was not listening either.

“My trick is working” he kept on saying to himself with no thoughts for anything else.

The same thing happened every evening and Rere, growing weaker and weaker, started to despair.

“If I continue to stay on in this drum I’ll die. You know I can’t even breathe well – nobody can. It’s impossible to live in this drum without falling ill. Supposing I die? What then?” he pleaded with Ijapa.

“It’s a chance I have to take. You won’t die as long as I feed you.” Ijapa replied.

“If you let me go, my parents will reward you handsomely,” he pleaded again.

“Not the kind of money I’ll be making from this drum” Ijapa replied, refusing to see reason.

After some time Rere gave up.

This was how Ijapa started making money out of Rere. Within a few days word had spread round about Ijapa and his magical drum – not only to the villages and towns close to Ijapa’s dwelling, but also beyond. Ijapa was inundated with invitations to come along with his “magical drum” and perform as part of a festive occasion’s entertainment – for example, at chiefs’ homes. Whenever it was his turn to perform, he would appear wheeling his drum along, tap the drum, and give the command. Rere would start off by singing his main song, and everyone, including the hosts or hostesses would dance, intoxicated by the rhythm of the song, again with none of its words registering in their minds. They would shower Ijapa with money as they danced or someone would go around colleting the money for him. The hosts or hostesses would also give Ijapa a lot of money for his performance.

“I didn’t hear anyone saying anything about me.” Rere would say to himself at the end of the occasion, deeply chagrined. “Perhaps one of these days…” he would reassure himself.

Ijapa became rich overnight and did not need to do any more work if he ever did at that time. As he grew fatter, Rere grew thinner, and as he became happier, Rere became sadder. Rere was also getting weaker and weaker. The only thing that was still miraculously strong in him was his voice, perhaps because of his determination not to give up, hoping that someone would eventually catch on to what was happening to him.

As he sang with deep melancholy, the sound of his voice was even more appealing, more hypnotic and diverting than before – touching at his listeners’ heartstrings.
“If I refuse to obey Ijapa, he’ll starve me” Rere thought. “I must preserve whatever little strength I have left. I must not give up. I must save myself. Maybe one of these days someone will recognise my voice.”

In the meantime, Rere’s parents had put out a search for their son, and everyone in their town was very supportive of their plight. His parents also reported the incident to the Ọba.

“Our son is missing. Please help us find him” they implored the Ọba.

In those days the Ọba played a big role in the day-to-day lives of his people. He was always the first port of call. People looked to him to resolve matters for them, including petty quarrels, disputes of any sort – no matter how small and inconsequential. He was known to be ready to find solutions to problems that baffled his subjects – to mysteries of any kind.

Word was sent round the whole district and hunters were dispatched immediately by the Ọba into the forest to look for Rere. For three days they looked and could find no trace of him. After this Rere’s parents resigned themselves to the possibility of not seeing their son alive ever again. However, his whole disappearance was a mystery to everyone, and there were all sorts of speculations about it:

“I think Rere is dead.” Rere’s mother said to her husband tearfully.

“Without doubt he is. Perhaps he’s been devoured by a wild beast” her husband replied.

“How sad! Such a handsome, loving boy!” a neighbour said.

“Wonder what could have happened to him” another neighbour replied. “How could he just disappear?”

“Perhaps someone killed him, and stole his hunting gear, equipment, and his money” the first neighbour replied.
“If that’s the case why hasn’t his body be found?” the other neighbour answered.

Rere’s parents and everyone else in town were distraught by Rere’s fate and mourned him, believing that he was dead.

Ijapa’s fame and success reached the Ọba in Ijafa, Rere’s town, and the Ọba sent word to Ijapa to come and perform with his “magical drum” at a festive occasion at the palace. This was a popular annual event, and many people were generally invited to it, including the Oluwo family. Ijapa went to the palace immediately word got to him and sought audience with the Ọba.

“Ah Ijapa! I’ve heard so much about your “magical drum. Come and perform for us in two days’ time” the Ọba said.
“Kabiyesi! I’d be honoured to take part in the festival. However, I must tell Kabiyesi that this is what I do for my living – how I feed myself, my wife and children” Ijapa answered.

“Yes, I’ve heard that the drum sings like a human being” the Ọba replied, nodding.

“Yes, Kabiyesi,” Ijapa lied.

“How did you come about it?” the Ọba wanted to know.

Ijapa did not know what to answer, and quickly said the first thing that came to his head:

“I’ve spent a lot of money on the magic to make the drum work like that, Kabiyesi!”

The Ọba was baffled by Ijapa’s answer but decided not to dwell on it. He also felt uneasy about it but could not lay his hand on why.

“If one invests so much money on something, then it’s only right to make money from it. So, name your fee” the Ọba informed Ijapa.

Ijapa named a certain sum of money to which the Ọba agreed.

“I’ll expect you at the palace in two days’ time then” the Ọba continued naming the time.

“Thank you, Kabiyesi!” Ijapa retreated, very pleased with himself.There was excitement in the air as people arrived at the palace on the day of the grand occasion – not only invitees, but also spectators, who thronged to come and watch.

When it was Ijapa’s turn to “perform” with his “magical drum”, he did not waste any time. He tapped the drum with his stick and gave the usual command:

Ilu mi, dun kẹkẹkẹ,
Ilu mi, dun kakaka,
Ilu mi, s’ọrọ ẹnu rẹ ki ng

Rere started to sing as follows:

Rere o, Rere ọmọ Oluwo, (Rere o, Rere, Oluwo’s Son)
Agbamurere
Rere o, Rere ọmọ Oluwo,
Agbamurere.
Iya f’ewurẹ ‘lẹ, o ni ng k’ọdẹ ṣe, (Mother made goats available for my hunting training)
Agbamurere.
Baba f’aguntan ‘lẹ, o ni ng k’ọdẹ ṣe (Father made lambs available for my hunting training)
Agbamurere.
Mo l’o d’igbo Ẹfọn, o d’igbo Erin, (I said that I was heading for deep forest hunting (hunting for buffaloes, hunting for elephants))
Agbamurere.
Agbara-ojo l’o fa mi lẹsẹ mo yẹ gẹrẹ, (There was a torrential rainstorm turning rapidly into a whirlpool at my feet making, me slip)
Agbamurere.
Mo yẹ gẹrẹ s’odo, mo ba d’ẹru Ahun, (I slipped, fell into the river and became Ahun’s slave) (Ahun = one of Ijapa’s nicknames)
Agbamurere.
Kiriji, Kiriji, kẹnkẹlukẹ
Agbamurere

Kiriji, Kiriji, kẹnkẹlukẹ
Agbamurere
Rere started to sing as follows:
Rere o, Rere ọmọ Oluwo, (Rere o, Rere, Oluwo’s Son)
Agbamurere
Rere o, Rere ọmọ Oluwo,
Agbamurere.
Iya f’ewurẹ ‘lẹ, o ni ng k’ọdẹ ṣe, (Mother made goats available for my hunting training)
Agbamurere.
Baba f’aguntan ‘lẹ, o ni ng k’ọdẹ ṣe (Father made lambs available for my hunting training)
Agbamurere.
Mo l’o d’igbo Ẹfọn, o d’igbo Erin, (I said that I was heading for deep forest hunting (hunting for buffaloes, hunting for elephants))
Agbamurere.
Agbara-ojo l’o fa mi lẹsẹ mo yẹ gẹrẹ, (There was a torrential rainstorm turning rapidly into a whirlpool at my feet making, me slip)
Agbamurere.
Mo yẹ gẹrẹ s’odo, mo ba d’ẹru Ahun, (I slipped, fell into the river and became Ahun’s slave) (Ahun = one of Ijapa’s nicknames)
Agbamurere.
Kiriji, Kiriji, kẹnkẹlukẹ
Agbamurere

Kiriji, Kiriji, kẹnkẹlukẹ
Agbamurere
All the people at the palace started dancing immediately they heard the rhythm of Rere’s song and Rere’s voice, enthralled by the music. As usual it was hypnotic and diverting. Nobody had ever heard anything like this before.
“How could an ordinary-looking drum sing like a human-being? What is this magic Ijapa said he paid a lot of money for? I must find out more about it” the Ọba thought. He was baffled and also felt uneasy again but could not pinpoint what was causing his unease. However, everyone was obviously enjoying themselves, and the performance was outstanding.

The only people there who were not captivated by the rhythm, no matter how diverting and enchanting it was, were Rere’s parents. Husband and wife did not participate in the dancing; they were still mourning their son whom they had given up for dead and were not in a festive mood. They had accepted the invitation from the Ọba only because they did not feel that they should decline it. They were sitting down quietly at a corner watching what was going on, and after a while they found themselves listening to the words of Rere’s main song, which Rere was singing again and again.

“Did you hear that?” Oluwo whispered to his wife suddenly. He was startled.

“Yes. I heard the name Oluwo” the wife replied in wonder.

They both listened more carefully and picked out their son’s name: Rere. They also got the gist of what the song was about.

“Rere may very well be in that drum and is trying to send a message across through his song”, Oluwo said to his wife excitedly, and without waiting for an answer he ran to the Ọba.

“Please stop the dancing, Kabiyesi! I believe our son is entrapped in that drum,” Oluwo whispered to the Ọba. He then went to explain why he thought so – to the Oba’s complete astonishment.

“Incredible!” the Ọba replied, but as his earlier unease crept up on him, he decided to grant Oluwo’s request.

“Silence everyone!” he commanded and the dancing stopped abruptly. Ijapa looked surprised but ordered the drum to stop singing.

“I know all of you are enjoying dancing to Ijapa’s ‘magical drum’ that sings. The rhythm of the main song is riveting, but I think you should listen to the words as well. It’s a beautiful song and you’ll enjoy listening to it. So, listen everybody!” the Ọba ordered.

Ijapa tapped the drum with his stick and Rere resumed his singing – singing the main song.

As the Ọba listened, the words of the song brought him back to an incident, recounted to him by Rere’s parents.

“Yes, I remember you came to me for help not too long ago when your son went hunting and did not return home” the Ọba addressed Oluwo, nodding as if everything made sense.

“Yes, Kabiyesi!” Oluwo replied.

“I also remember sending word round the district about Rere’s disappearance and dispatching hunters to go and look for him in the forest, and that they spent three whole days searching” the Ọba continued.

“Yes, Kabiyesi! We too put out a search for Rere and virtually everyone in town helped in our search” Oluwo replied.
“Then it must be your son singing inside Ijapa’s drum!” the Ọba exclaimed.

“I’ve no doubt about it” Oluwo replied eagerly.

By now everyone else present had listened carefully to the words of Rere’s main song. They all knew the Oluwo’s family very well. They also knew about Rere’s disappearance and remembered how they had helped in looking for him, and how deeply aggrieved they had felt faced with the possibility that Rere was dead.

“What! Oluwo’s child is in the drum!” exclaimed an old man, outraged, and soon there was an uproar. People started to express their views angrily:

“How could Ijapa do this to anyone?”

“This is inhuman!”

“Ijapa should be treated the same way”.

“Or killed even. He’s a monster and should not get away with it”
Everyone was boiling with rage and wanted to attack Ijapa, but the Ọba intervened quickly. Ijapa realized that the game was up. Trembling, he tried to make his escape with the drum.

“Stop him! Seize his drum and tear it apart” the Ọba commanded, and immediately a few of the Oba’s servants got hold of Ijapa, seized his drum, and tore it apart. As they did so they found Rere inside it and took him out.

“Rere! Rere!”, Rere’s parents called out and rushed to gather him in their arms.

“Oh my God! How thin and ill he looks” Rere’s mother said and burst into tears. Other people around, especially the women started to cry as well for this could have been their son.

“We’d better take him home quickly, get him cleaned up” Rere’s mother continued.

“Take Ijapa away and kill him!” the Ọba ordered his servants angrily.
Rere who was so happy to be reunited with his parents heard what the Ọba had just said.

“Kabiyesi! I beg you to spare Ijapa’s life”, he struggled to speak. Initially his voice was barely audible, but as he breathed in the air around him his voice became clearer and clearer.

A gasp of shock rang through the whole place.

“If not for Ijapa I won’t be here today. As I said in my song, I slipped and lost my balance in the thunderstorm, and got swept away by the current. If Ijapa had not rescued me when he did, I would have died” Rere continued. “He also took good care of me, gave me dry clothes and fed me. He was kind to me until he heard me sing.”

Even though everybody present was shocked by Rere’s request for Ijapa’s release, they were not entirely surprised.

“This’s typical of Rere” one of the people said.

“That boy has always been kind-hearted” said another.

The Ọba weighed up Rere’s request and decided to concede to it.
“Lock Ijapa up until I decide on what punishment to give him. He should be taught a lesson. He’s lucky that Rere has not died from this inhuman act. Otherwise he would certainly have been put to death without doubt” the Ọba continued. “Even if he behaved well to Rere at the beginning what he did later was inhuman, and pure greed let him to it”.

He paused and reflected a little while longer.

“He must never set foot in this town again and he should be driven away from his village – thrown into the forest. He’s not fit to live among others” the Ọba commanded.

“Take your son home, Oluwo, and nurse him back to health. I and everyone else here rejoice with you on your good luck in finding him again” the Ọba turned to Oluwo, got up and put an end to the festival.

As everyone was leaving the palace still talking about the extraordinary event of that day, and Ijapa was being led away, some of the people could not control their anger; they picked up stones from the ground and threw them at him. Some others got hold of utensils, clubs such as bludgeons, cudgels, and hit him with them. When he managed to free himself from the crowd alive, he was only too happy to be driven away from Rere’s town, and later on from his own town.

This was how Ijapa was driven away from Isalẹ-Odo, near Jakọta. He never showed his face there again, let alone at Rere’s town.