8. Ojeje Traders

A very long time ago, in Akete, a town in a far, faraway land, there lived a renowned trader called Kerejigbo, who had two wives, Rongbe and Sarera. Rongbe, the first wife did not have any children. Sarera, on the other hand, had a daughter, Mobarewa. Rongbe resented Sarera right from the beginning.

“You’re my ‘iyawo’, no matter what”. I’m sure you know what that means, and don’t you ever forget that”, Rongbe said to Sarera the first time she set eyes on her, and reminded her repeatedly thereafter. Sarera knew what it meant quite all right.

It was not an uncommon practice for the men of the land to have two wives – ‘iyaale’ (the first wife) and ‘iyawo’ (the second wife) – and to put the ‘iyawo’ at the ‘iyaale”’s command. The ‘iyaale’’s word then became the rule, so much so that the ‘iyawo’ could be sent packing if she ‘displeased’ her ‘iyaale’ too much. This practice was perhaps a peace-offering on the husband’s part for bringing another woman into the marital home.

Naturally there were men and women who did not subscribe to this practice, but Rongbe clearly did. Not surprisingly she exploited her ‘position’ fully. She left Sarera to do most of the housework, quarrelled with her and picked on her incessantly, and made up stories to put her in a bad light vis-à-vis their husband, Kerejigbo.

Rongbe did everything in her power to make life unbearable for Sarera and Mobarewa, hoping that Sarera would leave with her daughter. She knew that she could not ask Kerejigbo to send Sarera packing because he did not subscribe to the practice. Besides he would not want to part with his only child…“Unless something were to happen to the child…!” Rongbe thought.

“You wait and see. One day I’ll have Kerejigbo back to myself, and everything he owns. No woman is going to take from me what is rightfully mine”, Rongbe promised herself constantly, and it seemed that she would stop at nothing to achieve this end. However, she kept her feelings to herself so that no one knew what she was really capable of.

“There must be a way…No matter how long it takes”, Rongbe kept on telling herself.

Nobody liked Ronge in the neighbourhood. She was a quarrelsome, bad-tempered, nasty, and unpleasant woman – a busybody and a troublemaker, who spent her time gossiping and knocking heads, being too lazy to do anything else.

Sarera, on the other hand, was a very nice woman, and very well-liked. She was a good-natured, kind-hearted, loving and considerate woman who was pleasant to everyone around. She was also very hard-working. She loved her daughter, Mobarewa, very dearly – more than her own life – and was protective towards her, knowing how the other wife felt about them.

The situation of Kerejigbo and his two wives, Rongbe and Sarera – complete opposite in character – was much talked about in the neighbourhood. One day two women, who lived next door to each other, and not far from where Kerejigbo’s family lived, were discussing the matter at length. They had heard about a recent confrontation between Rongbe and Sarera, and were happy that they were not in the same situation as those two other women – sharing their husbands with another woman. The two women were relaxing in the garden of one of them, after finishing their housework. They had all the time in the world.

“I wonder how Sarera can bear to live in the same house as Rongbe. She’s a witch that one. They’re always quarrelling” one of them said.

“Unfortunately this is to be expected when two women are married to the same man, and they live under the same roof. Mind you, it’s a matter of luck really with these ‘iyaales’. Rongbe just happens to be one of the worst. Pity, because Sarera is so nice, and Mobarewa is such a good, sensible girl – quiet and obedient, and very attached to her mother”, the other replied.

“Well, Sarera has no choice, unless she leaves with her daughter”, she added. “Rongbe is a nasty piece of work, and Sarera has to really look out for that child of hers” she continued, a worried expression on her face.

“Why do you say that…?” the other woman began, and hesitated, intercepting the expression on her neighbour’s face. “Surely you don’t think she’ll…?”. She stopped as a thought occurred to her, and she shook her head wonderingly.

“Mark my word, Rongbe has it in for that child. Apparently she complains about her all the time. I hear that Mobarewa is a very intelligent girl – bright and gifted, and wise beyond her age, but Rongbe is always putting her down and picking on her. Mobarewa loves to sing, and has a lovely voice.” She lowered her voice:

“The other day someone told me that Rongbe threatened to teach Mobarewa a lesson because she woke her up with her singing”, she confided.

“I wonder what she means by that…Perhaps we should warn Sarera about this”, the other woman suggested, looking worried again.

“No, no, no! You know what Rongbe is like? She likes causing trouble. First of all she’ll deny the whole thing. Secondly, she’ll try to turn the person who told me against us”.

“Surely she won’t dare do anything bad to Mobarewa. We know that generally there is enmity between “iyaales” and “iyawos” and that the enmity is often extended to hatred of the children, but you know how some of these ‘iyaales’ feel about that kind of thing – how they pretend to draw a line when it comes to the other woman’s children. It’s like a taboo. They’d rather leave the marital home than be linked with scandals of this nature, especially as they know how violently people around here react to such scandals.”

“I don’t know…. Let’s just steer clear of the whole thing, and leave Kerejigbo, the man of the house to take care of his home”.

They both kept quiet for a while, still concerned about Mobarewa, wondering how Kerejigbo could take better care of his home.

“Perhaps if he stayed at home more he’d be able to do that. “It’s a pity he has to travel so often to Ojeje, and each journey takes about ten days. That’s the problem with these Ojeje Traders. Their kind of work leaves them little time for anything else”

“It’s true. It’s not an easy job and it takes the traders constantly away from their homes”.

Ojeje Traders or Ojeje Travellers, as they were called, were renowned traders who were plying their trade at a market in Ojeje, at a distance from Akete where Kerejigbo lived. Ojeje Market was a very big market, famous for its availability of a wide range of goods not available elsewhere. These goods, reputed to be of exceptional quality – of the best quality possible – were in high demand, and people were ready to buy them at any price.

Ojeje Traders were highly regarded, and were well-known for the several stops they made to and from Ojeje Market. People came to buy and sell goods at each stop, providing an excellent opportunity for the traders to do the same, and to know about the market trends. This was how Kerejigbo, like his peers, had been able to build up his experience, and had rapidly become a successful trader. The more he travelled to Ojeje, calling at each stop, the more he was quick to spot what was required in a particular area, and where to get the goods. He had a first class knowledge of the market trends.

“I know that Kerejigbo is successful at his work, but is it really worth it – this business of a trader having two wives, so that one of them could travel with him whilst the other one stay behind to take care of the children?” the conversation between the two women continued.

“I really don’t know…He just has to find a way of taking care of his home”.

“But can he really do so? I mean what can he do about the problems between Rongbe and Sarera?”

“Well, that’s to be seen!”

It was the custom for an Ojeje Trader’s wife to accompany her husband from time to time on these travels – when there was a very high demand for more goods than he could carry by himself. This was a preferred practice to hiring someone for the task – seen, not only as economical, but also as safeguarding against mistrust. They could trust a wife with the goods, and the money, and not have to pay her.

This practice of taking a wife along to Ojeje Market would probably account for why Kerejigbo, like some of his peers, had two wives – one to accompany him to Ojeje when necessary, and the other to stay at home and look after the children. Kerejigbo knew that if he continued to prosper as he was doing, a day might come when he would need someone to accompany him on his journeys to Ojeje. That day came when there was a demand from customers for extra goods at Ojeje Market the following time he was travelling there. Kerejigbo would never forget how Rongbe reacted when he suggested that she should go along with him – the horror on her face.

“Go to Ojeje with you? I’m not doing anything of the sort! Let Sarera go with you! After all what’s she here for?!”

Kerejigbo was not too surprised by her utterance. Rongbe was very lazy. She hated hard work.

“Thank God I have Sarera!” he had said to himself, because by then he had met and married Sarera, who had gone willingly along with him to Ojeje, whenever he needed her to. Sarera was very hard-working and keen to learn. By the time she gave birth to Mobarewa, their daughter, Kerejigbo had become so successful that he could easily afford to find other means of carrying extra goods, not only to Ojeje, but to other markets as well.

Sarera was very happy that she did not have to leave Mobarewa with Rongbe, because this was what would have happened if she had had to continue to accompany Kerejigbo to Ojeje Market.

In talking about Kerejigbo and his two wives, the topic of Ojeje Traders continued to be of great interest to the two neighbours.

“To think there are female Ojeje Traders among these Ojeje Traders! I wonder how they cope at the home-front. Surely the married ones with children don’t have two husbands – you know, one to go along with them to Ojeje, and the other one to take care of the children!?”

“Good heavens no!” her neighbour replied, and they both laughed. “I doubt that a married woman with children would want be an Ojeje Trader, unless her husband has two wives, and allows her to do so. In which case the female Ojeje Trader would have no choice but to leave her offspring at home with the other woman when she travels to Ojeje.”

“God forbid! Can you imagine Sarera doing a thing like that – leaving Mobarewa with Rongbe, if she were to become an Ojeje Trader!”

“I doubt that she’ll become an Ojeje Trader, so we don’t need to worry about it!” They both laughed again.

Ojeje Traders were not exclusively men. There were a few women among them who traded in their own right, whose goods were also of exceptional quality, and who were just as hard-working as the men. However, it was generally believed that women were not geared towards competing with their male peers. It was too demanding a job.

“How would women have the time and energy to travel around with all the demands made upon them by their husbands and children – at least the married ones?”

“A woman’s place is in the home after all!”

One often heard such comments from time to time. However, the male Ojeje Traders were very supportive of their female peers. In fact Ojeje Traders – male and female alike – exuded camaraderie and solidarity. Not surprisingly children were not generally taken along on any of these journeys, their mothers being too busy to take care of them.

Kerejigbo might be very happy about his increasing success and wealth, but he was not about the situation at home. He was deeply concerned about it, wondering if it had been worth it – marrying twice. Rongbe’s behaviour to Sarera and Mobarewa was a source of concern, although he had no idea what Rongbe was really capable of. He knew the root of Rongbe’s hatred, of course – his bringing another woman into the marital home. It was not uncommon for a man of his land to have two wives, it was true, but was he really cut out for it – for living with two women day in day out, he wondered. Kerejigbo was a peace-loving man.

“Look at what it’s causing. It brews resentment and hatred. It’s unhealthy. All this bickering – all these rows!”

Kerejigbo might not be aware of everything that was going on at home, being away a great deal, but he knew enough, especially from what people around him were saying, and felt uncomfortable about it. How many times had he tried to settle misunderstandings, quarrels, disputes etc whenever he was around. Most of the time though, Rongbe always put up a pretence in front of her husband, especially when Mobarewa was present. Kerejigbo was, therefore, not aware of how deep her resentment and hatred of Sarera were.

Kerejigbo continued to search his mind as how to handle the situation.

“Am I to send one of them away for the other?”

Marrying Rongbe was a mistake. Kerejigbo realized earlier on in the marriage that she married him because she was looking for a provider, and that she did not really love or care for him. Kerejigbo was not the type to send a woman packing, so he put up with the situation, and then he met and married Sarera whose feelings towards him seemed genuine.

Deep down Kerejigbo did not regret marrying Sarera, and only wished that he had met her first, and that she was his only wife. Sarera was the opposite to Rongbe – loving and caring, and Kerejigbo had feelings for her. Perhaps this was the real reason he married her, and because he needed a wife to go along with him to Ojeje like his peers. Whatever his reasons were, he could not send Rongbe packing even now, especially as she did not have any children. Kerejigbo was not only peace-loving, but also fair-minded. Unless Rongbe behaved in a way that warranted being sent packing there was nothing he could do.

“I can’t just ask her to go because of the way she feels towards Sarera. After all what do you expect when you bring another woman into the marital home?“ he asked himself.

Kerejigbo thought and thought about how to resolve this problem that weighed him down – how to bring peace into his household – or at least a semblance of peace. Then an idea struck him.

“Perhaps I can do something for the two of them to make them happy – something that would give them a sense of focus, and help them to stand on their own two feet. They need something else to think about; they need to make something of themselves, and if they are successful at it, they might feel less threatened one by the other. In which case they’d be less unhappy about their plight – being married to the same man; they would be able to tolerate the situation better, and would therefore be less inclined to quarrel.”

Kerejigbo decided there and then on his line of action.

“Once I do this, I’m not going to feel guilty about the two of them anymore, because I’d have tried my best for them. After all are they the only ones in this kind of situation – married to the same man? There are other ‘iyaales’ and ‘iyawos’ for goodness sake, and they do get by!”

Kerejigbo then called his wives:

“Rongbe, Sarera, I’m going to give each one of you a large sum of money. I want you to trade with it. There’s money in trading right now” Kerejigbo began. “Who knows, you may even become an OjejeTrader like me one day” he added jokingly, but as soon as he saw Rongbe’s expression he bit back his tongue.

“What am I thinking of?” he chided himself. “Rongbe! Trading! But then who knows? Trading in her own right may appeal to her a great deal – make her want to get up and do something for a change, instead of lazing around all day.”

Rongbe was horrified by the idea, and was thinking:

“Trading! What trading? You must be joking”. However, she said nothing, and Kerejigbo went on quickly:

“Of course if you want to use the money for something else that can yield more money for you, do so by all means. I’d be quite happy to advise you on what.”

Sarera, on the other hand, was thinking:

“Trading! That should be fun!” remembering the few occasions she had accompanied Kerejigbo to Ojeje, and how exciting she had found the whole experience.

Kerejigbo gave Rongbe, as the ‘iyaale’ more money than Sarera, ‘to soften her mind towards her ‘iyawo’’’. This pleased Rongbe greatly, because she brightened up immediately.

“I’m the ‘iyaale’ after all” she thought with glee.

Rongbe and Sarera thanked Kerejigbo profusely, making Kerejigbo feel that his idea was perhaps a good one after all.

“Who knows, peace may still reign in my household!” he thought.

Unfortunately his optimism was short-lived – at least as far as Rongbe was concerned. Rongbe was happy and excited about Kerejigbo’s gesture quite all right, but not for the reasons Kerejigbo thought. Rongbe considered herself a beauty and was vain. She loved spending money on herself – on materials things such asọ expensive clothes and jewellery, which she liked showing off to others. She liked flaunting her husband’s wealth and success in their faces.

“Look at how much my husband has achieved. I can’t just dress anyhow. I need to do him proud”, she would say.

Rongbe decided to enjoy her ‘windfall’, as she saw the money given her by her husband, to the maximum, before deciding on what to do with the rest of it.

“Who knows? I may even try trading! There’s no hurry. As long as I’m still married to Kerejigbo, he’d provide for me. After all he’s rich and successful.”

Sarera, on the other hand, was really, very excited by the idea of trading. She was eager to learn, and pick things up quickly, her previous experience with her Ojeje Trader husband helping her along. She traded wisely being very careful with her money, all along thinking “I must find something unusual to do, in addition to buying and selling of the goods I trade in… come up with something – something no one or hardly anyone has done before – perhaps something I can make myself, and then sell it.

As she continued with her buying and selling of goods, making money rapidly, the idea came.

“Why don’t I become a weaver of cloths such as ‘asọ oke’ (cloth woven by hand by the Yoruba of Nigeria) for agbada (men’s long, flowing, wide-sleeved attire – often with embroidery), women’s attire, e.g. iro (wrappers), and so on. I’ve put enough money aside to buy my own looms. I can design the patterns myself, blend the colours, mix and match, and contrast them – that kind of thing! I can then sell the cloths”.

She was very excited, and could not wait to start the ball rolling. In no time she became very successful, and was sought after as a weaver and seller of the best cloths around, for their beautiful patterns with lovely blend of colours, which she designed herself. She hired some employees with expertise in weaving, so that she could devote more time to the areas where, she herself realized, she was gifted in – designing patterns.

Rongbe wished she had gone into trading like Sarera, and was very jealous of her increasing success. Unfortunately her money had dwindled, and there was not enough for trading or anything else for that matter. Her hatred of Sarera, fuelled by her jealousy knew no bounds. However, no one would have guessed at what was brewing in her mind because she hid her feelings well. In fact, since their husband’s kind gesture, which Rongbe herself knew was a peace-offering ‘to soften her mind towards her ‘iyawo’’’ she had been behaving accordingly, focusing on spending the money on herself.

Kerejigbo had continued with his trading calmly, not weighed down by his household situation anymore. He was happy with what Sarera had done with the money he gave her. He was also perfectly aware of what Rongbe had done with hers, but turned a blind eye to it. He did not know, however, that, as Rongbe had not made any money of her own, she was determined to be the only one to inherit from him, and was looking for a way of doing this.

“That day will surely come!” Rongbe kept on promising herself. “I just have to be patient…”

To be sought out by a leading Ojeje Trader in a particular field was considered an honour. One day a renowned trader of cloths, came from Ojeje to seek Sarera out.

“I’ve heard so much about you. Your talent is wasted here – not that your customers don’t value your cloths, I’m sure, but at Ojeje Market…just wait until you get to Ojeje…! Can you show me some of your cloths?” the OjejeTrader said eagerly, and could not believe his eyes when he saw the array of beautiful cloths that Sarera showed him.

“No wonder you’re the talk of the town. My, how beautiful they are! It’s true that goods at Ojeje are generally in demand for their good quality, including cloths, and that customers are prepared to pay highly for them. Even so they’re not comparable to yours. Yours are different – exquisite. Your patterns are exceptional. You’ve an eye for colours and designs; you know how to blend them well, how to contrast, mix and match them…” the Ojeje Trader said excitedly.

“People at Ojeje will go crazy when they see these cloths. They’re positively outstanding; they are unique. You’ll be inundated with customers, and your business will flourish – much more than here. We can even look into doing business together once you become and Ojeje Trader, if you like” the trader continued.

Sarera was delighted by the Ojeje Trader’s praises of her cloths, and by his business proposal, but she thought of her daughter, Mobarewa, and her heart sank. She had known after a while that she could go far with her trading, but to become an Ojeje Trader?! No way! Children were not generally taken along to Ojeje, and she would not want to leave Mobarewa behind with Rongbe.

“You see, I wasn’t far from wrong when I teased you about becoming an Ojeje Trader” Kerejigbo said to Sarera, when she told him what the cloth trader from Ojeje had suggested. He was pleased for her.

“You must certainly take your cloths and other goods to Ojeje. You’ll enjoy it. You remember what a lively lot we Ojeje Traders are…” Kerejigbo added, reminding Sarea about the fun they used to have at the stops, on their way to Ojeje – a topic that the two of them were never tired of.

“It’s all very well said and done, but I’m not going to start leaving Mobarewa with that woman, to go to Ojeje” Sarera blurted out.

“Don’t worry about that. Mobarewa will be all right at home” Kerejigbo reassured her, and when he intercepted an anxious expression bordering on fear on his wife’s face, he added quickly:

“Rongbe won’t dare do anything bad to Mobarewa. You know how afraid ‘iyaales’ are, or make themselves out to be, about being held responsible for any wrong-doings vis-à-vis their ‘iyawos’’s children. It’s a no-go area for them, or so they claim. ‘Iyalees’ are reputed to be quarrelsome and so on because they feel slighted, and they’ll do all in their power to send the ’iyawos’ packing. But it’s like ‘God forbid it for asọ to want to cause harm to a child because his mother has been brought into the marital home’. They’d rather leave the marital home than do a thing like that! I understand that an ‘iyaale’ could even see it as an affront for a child to be left elsewhere when she lives under the same roof as the child and his mother – if the mother asọ away, especially for only about ten days.”

Sarera had been shaking her head whilst Kerejigbo was speaking, obviously more sceptical about the ‘iyaales’’ stand vis-à-vis their ‘iyawos’’ offspring than her husband. She believed that Rongbe hated her and her daughter, and that if she could get away with it, she would not hesitate to harm her daughter. Before she could say anything, Kerejigbo went on:

“Besides, the consequence of that kind of behaviour as severe around here…Never fear.”

“I don’t know…One hears this all the time, but people are such hypocrites…”

“I know you and Rongbe have had problems upon problems, but she hasn’t behaved in any way that may suggest that she’d go as far as harming Mobarewa, especially recently. After all this time, do you really think she’ll do anything like that? What has she been waiting for, one would ask?”

Sarera relaxed slightly after hearing all Kerejigbo had just said, but soon after she was besieged by doubts.

“I don’t know what to make of the whole thing… I’ve doubts where Rongbe as concerned…To go regularly to Ojeje, leaving Mobarewa at home, isn’t that pushing it a bit?” she pointed out.

“Once you establish yourself as an Ojeje Trader, we can pay someone to take your goods to Ojeje for you – that as if we can find someone we can trust…Besides if you decide to do business with the leading cloth trader in Ojeje, you wouldn’t need to worry about anything in that direction.”

“I don’t know…I don’t know” Sarera began.

“You know what? I won’t be away at the same time as you, this first time, and then we’ll see”.

Sarera weighed up the whole thing, and with Kerejigbo’s encouragement and faith that Mobarewa would be all right, she agreed to go to Ojeje – at least once, to see how it would pan out. For the next couple of weeks, she got to work in preparation for her journey to Ojeje. She designed patterns – lovely blend of colours, mixing, matching, and contrasting them, especially for the occasion, which her employees weaved for her. They all worked very hard.

When Mobarewa learnt that her mother was going to travel, and that she would be left at home, she was deeply unhappy, and terribly afraid.

“Please don’t go, or let me come with you. Don’t leave me with that woman”, she pleaded with her mother amidst tears, unaware that Rongbe was eavesdropping on the two of them. “You know that father as very likely to be away as well”.

“Your father will not be away at the same time as me, and I’m going to be away only for about ten days. I wish I could take you with me, but it’s no place for a child. The women are too busy on travels to Ojeje to take care of their children properly, so children are not generally taken along”, Sarera told her daughter trying to pacify her.

Mobarewa knew that Rongbe hated her; she had often caught her looking at her in a way that frightened her. Sarera, who loved her daughter deeply, would have preferred not to leave her behind, even if Kerejigbo were around. His being around was never guaranteed anyway. How many times had he have to leave home unexpectedly because his customers needed his wares urgently. However, she knew that she had no choice, unless she decided not to go at ll. This was how things were done. It would have been unheard of to do otherwise, as Kerejigbo had pointed out. Even letting Mobarewa stay with a neighbour or a friend was not an option, when Rongbe was living under the same roof. However, Sarera tried to put up a brave front, thinking:

“Supposing my fears about Rongbe are unfounded? Won’t I then regret not going to Ojeje? Surely, as wicked as Rongbe is, she won’t dare harm Mobarewa without drawing suspicions on herself? She’d probably just try and make life unbearable for Mobarewa, as she’s been doing – although less so nowadays – quarrelling with her, picking on her, shouting at her. I know all this will be terribly unpleasant for Mobarewa, but as long as she has plenty to eat and drink, she’d be all right. I’ll only be gone for about ten days. I’ll tell one or two of our neighbours and friends to check on Mobarewa for me”.

“Don’t worry, my dear. You’ll be all right. I’ll leave you plenty of nice things to eat and drink, some of which Rongbe will prepare for you whilst I’m away – especially some nice tasting yam that you like so much. Be a good girl as you always are, and do as she says. I’ll ask one or two people to drop by to make sure you’re all right.” Sarera assured her daughter.

“Rongbe hates me, mother” Mobarewa said, and started crying again. “She just pretends otherwise.”

“You’ll be all right. Don’t worry”, Sarera assured her daughter again, putting her arms around her.

Mobarewa relaxed slightly, although she still wished that her mother did not have to travel.

“All right, mother”, she answered, drying her tears.

When Rongbe first heard that Sarera was to go to Ojeje, leaving Mobarewa behind, her mind started to think of all sorts of things. She knew that Kerejigbo was bound to go away around that time as well… Her jealousy of Sarera had risen further, blinding her to reason.

“Sarera, an Ojeje Trader! With all that money she’s bound to make, she can’t possibly inherit Kerejigbo as well. I won’t let her do it! There must be a way to stop it… I, alone, will inherit my husband…” she was thinking.

The day came for the journey to Ojeje. Kerejigbo had had to travel elsewhere a few days before, and was expected back any moment now. He should have come back the day before. Sarera waved her daughter ‘goodbye’ thinking: “Surely Rongbe would not do anything foolish knowing that Kerejigbo will be here any minute…”.

As soon as Sarera left, Rongbe rounded up on Mobarewa.

“I heard you telling your mother not to leave you with me. Well, here you’re with me! I’ll show you just how right you’re for being afraid. ‘Don’t worry…I’ll leave you nice things to eat and drink’”, Rongbe imitated Sarera.

“You’d be lucky if any of these lovely things touch your mouth. Don’t imagine I’m going to do anything that needs to be done for you. I’m going to make sure that you do all the work your mother does in this house, and more. If you refuse there’ll be no food for you, and I’ll punish you. As for the one or two people who’ll be checking on you, forget it. I’ll not let anyone step inside this house”.

Mobarewa just stared at Rongbe, horrified by what she way saying to her.

“Finally, let me warn you”, Rongbe continued. “If you dare tell anyone, young or old, about anything that happens here whilst your mother is away, you’ll never set eyes on her again!”

Rongbe had already started to think of ways of getting rid of this girl. She knew that she could not deliberately harm her without drawing suspicions on herself, but she could starve her, and really overwork her to the extent that her health would start to fail.

“I’ll make up stories so that nobody will hold me responsible, and Mobarewa would not dare contradict me because she’d be too afraid to do so. I’ll eat up practically all the food and drink Sarera has left – certainly all the eggs, the best part of the vegetables and fruits, and leave the skins and rinds for her to eat. As for the yam she likes so much…She’d be lucky! She’s more likely to get sour water-yam!”

Mobarewa was terribly frightened by Rongbe’s threat, and did not want to take any chances.

“This woman is truly evil. There’s so much hatred in her eyes when she looks at me. I’d better not say anything to anyone. I don’t want my mother to die. If only she and my father were here!” she thought, and was deeply unhappy.

Rongbe wasted no time in putting her plan into action. She was delighted when a message arrived from Kerejigbo that he was being held up by work and did not know how long for. Rongbe made Mobarewa work many hours a day without stop, and gave her nothing to eat until the work was finished, which was generally towards evening. Mobarewa had to do all the sweeping, cleaning, dusting, washing up, and chores that she was not accustomed to, such as scrubbing the floors. Rongbe would deliberately scatter around all her things in her bedroom (and there were plenty of them) – shoes, handbags, dirty and clean clothes – to create more work for Mobarewa. She would then ask Mobarewa to sort them out, giving instructions by the dozen.

“Put the dirty clothes in that dirty laundry bag over there, and fold the clean clothes neatly before you put some of them back in the wardrobe cupboard. Some of them you’ll hang up in the wardrobe, of course… You can wash the dirty clothes tomorrow. You’ll iron them when they’re dry…The handbags go in that cupboard…over there, and the shoes in that other cupboard…”

Mobarewa was inundated with work, and found it very difficult to cope.

“I’m very tired. Can I rest for a while?” she would plead with Rongbe, almost in a state of collapse, and often in tears, but Rongbe ignored her pleas.

“If you don’t finish what you’re doing right now, I won’t give you anything to eat, and I’ll punish you”, Rongbe would threaten.

Satisfying her hunger and thirst which was never a problem before, when her mother was around, became one for Mobarewa. Rongbe gave her a small portion of skins and rinds of vegetables and fruits, two small pieces of boiled sour-yam to eat, and some water to drink. She could not even drink as much water as she wanted because drinking water was not kept within her reach.

“I’m very hungry and thirsty. Please give me some of the food and drink my mother left for me. You don’t have to get anything for me. I can do whatever I can for myself”, Mobare pleaded again and again.

Rongbe had kept all the provisions very high up on a shelf in a kitchen, where she knew Mobarewa could not reach. She would drag Mobarewa to the kitchen and point at the provisions.

“Yes, look at the nice things your mother left for you to eat and drink. I’m not stopping you from helping yourself to them. But you can’t, can you? We both know that you can’t, and that’s why you’re starving. But others don’t know this. No, no, no. What others will know is that you cry for your mother all the time, and refuse any food and drink I give you. You also refuse to do anything in the house. You just keep on asking for your mother, saying that she shouldn’t have left you behind with the wicked woman”, Rongbe said.

Mobarewa just stared at her, aghast, too shocked to say anything.

“When I cajole you into taking something, you spill everything out, you throw things on the floor, in my face, or in the dustbin (as I later discover), and even break some of the eggs. Once or twice you even kick me in the stomach and rush out of the house, and I double over. What am I supposed to do when you throw all these tantrums?” Rongbe continued, ignoring Mobarewa’s dumb-founded expression.

“But this is not true. How could you make up all these stories?” Mobarewa asked, fear seizing her. This woman was worse than she thought. She was truly evil.

“Surely, no one will believe I’ll do such things. You’re the one who’s refusing to feed me, or even allow me to do so myself.”

“Yes, but only you and I know that, not so? You’ll not dare tell anyone otherwise. Don’t forget what I said before. You’ll never set eyes on your mother again, if you do.”

Rongbe knew that Mobare would be terrified to hear this last statement, and she was right. Mobarewa said nothing for while, then asked:

“What about the neighbours and friends who’ll be calling on us? Surely, they’ll see that something is going on?”

“Ah! No problem about them. You refuse to see them, threatening to run away if they come anywhere near you, because it’s only your mother you want. In fact, yesterday, one or two people called on us, and they believed me when I told them exactly that”, Rongbe said gleefully.

“’I suppose we should not force the issue’“, one of them said. “’It’ll be better for Sarera to come home and find her child in whatever condition she’s in instead of not knowing where she is’”, Rongbe continued.

After a few days Mobare started to lose weight from lack of food and drink; she became very tired and weak from hard work, and too little sleep. She was also very unhappy – afraid that she would fall ill and die, and not see her mother and father again. She could not tell anyone what was going on because the wicked woman’s threat that she would never set eyes on her mother again loomed largely in her mind. She knew that no amount of pleading on her part would make Rongbe see reason. Rongbe had obviously taken leave of her senses.

“How can I make my mother aware of what’s happening without confiding in anyone?” she wondered again and again. Gradually an idea started to form in her mind.

She had heard her father and mother talk about Ojeje Traders – about the several stops they made on the way to and from Ojeje. Ojeje Traders were known to be a cheerful lot – supportive of each other. They would rest, eat, drink, relax and chat amicably with each other at each stop. She also knew that one of the stops – a big square – was close to where they lived, at the outskirts of the town. It was near a crossroad with landmarks – one of them indicating the direction of Ojeje. There was a field close to the stop, where Mobarewa was allowed to play with other children.

Rongbe was not in the habit of getting up early. In fact she never put in an appearance until much later on in the morning. Before dawn the following day, Mobarewa left the house quietly, unnoticed. She was not in any danger of waking Rongbe up. Mobarewa made for the crossroad and the landmark indicating the direction of Ojeje, passing the field and the Ojeje Traders’ meeting place. She looked around for a good spot to stand – where she would be able to attract the travellers’ attention, and noticed a tree close to the landmark. She made for the tree and stood under it. The ground was muddy from recent rainfall.

Mobarewa knew how to sing.

“I can sing about what’s happening to me without mentioning any names, and perhaps the Ojeje Traders will listen as they pass”, she thought. The Ojeje Traders might take her seriously and discuss among themselves a strange thing as a child singing at a crossroad, on their way to Ojeje, and at their destination. Perhaps this way word would get to Mobare’s mother about her plight.

As the Ojeje Traders were approaching Mobarewa started to sing as follows:

Ero Ilu Ojeje (Ojeje Travellers) Ojeje

Ero Ilu Ojeje Ojeje

Ẹba mi ki iya mi (Say ‘hello’ to my mother for me) Ojeje

Ẹ ba mi ki iya mi Ojeje

Pe ‘ṣu t’o fi si lẹ fun mi (Tell her that the yam she left for me) Ojeje

Orogun se, o mu jẹ (Has been cooked and eaten by her Orogun (co-wife rival) Ojeje

Iṣu ewura t’o kan bobo (Very bitter and sour water-yam) Ojeje

Ojeje

L’orogun se fun mi jẹ (Is what Orogun cooked and gave me to eat) Ojeje

Ẹ ba mi ki iya mi Ojeje

Ẹ ba mi ki iya mi Ojeje

Ero Ilu Ojeje (Ojeje Travellers) Ojeje

Ero Ilu Ojeje Ojeje

Ẹba mi ki iya mi (Say ‘hello’ to my mother for me) Ojeje

Ẹ ba mi ki iya mi Ojeje

Pe ‘ṣu t’o fi si lẹ fun mi (Tell her that the yam she left for me) Ojeje

Orogun se, o mu jẹ (Has been cooked and eaten by her Orogun (co-wife rival) Ojeje

Iṣu ewura t’o kan bobo (Very bitter and sour water-yam) Ojeje

Ojeje

L’orogun se fun mi jẹ (Is what Orogun cooked and gave me to eat) Ojeje

Ẹ ba mi ki iya mi Ojeje

Ẹ ba mi ki iya mi Ojeje

The ground was muddier than Mobarewa had thought, and as she sang she found that she had to struggle to pull herself up from the slippery mud. The sight of a young girl struggling not to sink in the mud, and the sound of her singing quickly attracted the attention of some of the Ojeje Traders.

“Look at that girl? What’s she doing there singing? What’s going on? Let’s go and pull her up and find out what’s wrong”, one of them started to say. A few of them rushed to where Mobarewa was, and pulled her up immediately whilst listening to her song.

“What a lovely voice” some of them said. But as they listened to her they grew concerned that she might be asking them to help her, and it touched their hearts.

“It’s a sad song. Can she be referring to herself and us?” they wondered.

“What’s wrong child?” one of them asked Mobarewa gently. “Why are you here? Who is your mother and where is she? Is she an Ojeje Trader? Are you in trouble of some sort?” They threw one question after another at Mobarewa, who was afraid to answer any of them, because answering would lead to disclosing her identity. This was the last thing she wanted, so she continued to sing the same song over and over again, her voice more and more melancholic, and with tears in her eyes.

“Something is definitely wrong. She’s afraid to talk. She must be in trouble”, another Ojeje Trader suggested, and the others joined in:

“She’s unhappy, unwell and afraid.”

“She’s weak and may die if her mother doesn’t get to her in time”.

“The best thing is for us to see whether we can act on her song, since we’re obviously not going to get a word out of her. There’s no doubt that she’s trying to reach out to us through the song”.

“We don’t know who her mother is, although there’s no doubt that she is one of us. We just have to try and locate her and tell her about her daughter. We’ve got to do something”.

The Ojeje Traders started to put their heads together as to what to do. The Sinking Singing Girl, as they dubbed Mobarewa, became the main topic of their conversations as they continued on their journey, calling at each stop. Word was spreading rapidly among them of a deeply unhappy and unwell young girl with a lovely voice, and of her song, and they were concerned. They used the facts they had at their fingertips to trace Mobarewa’s mother, such as Mobarewa’s age, sex, height, the town she lived in.

Mobarewa went back home. Rongbe had not woken up yet, so Mobarewa felt confident about slipping off undetected the following day.

Early in the morning the following day, Mobarewa went to the same spot. She did not realize that the ground was still muddy, and had to be pulled up again as she sang the same song:

Ero Ilu Ojeje (Ojeje Travellers) Ojeje

Ero Ilu Ojeje Ojeje

Ẹba mi ki iya mi (Say ‘hello’ to my mother for me) Ojeje

Ẹ ba mi ki iya mi Ojeje

Pe ‘ṣu t’o fi si lẹ fun mi (Tell her that the yam she left for me) Ojeje

Orogun se, o mu jẹ (Has been cooked and eaten by her Orogun (co-wife rival) Ojeje

Iṣu ewura t’o kan bobo (Very bitter and sour water-yam) Ojeje

Ojeje

L’orogun se fun mi jẹ (Is what Orogun cooked and gave me to eat) Ojeje

Ẹ ba mi ki iya mi Ojeje

Ẹ ba mi ki iya mi Ojeje

The Ojeje Traders who passed by reacted to the song the same way as the ones of the previous day and took the same line of action – to locate Mobarewa’s mother immediately.

The following day, when there was still no sign of her mother, Mobarewa made up her mind to go to the crossroad once more. She was so weak, and she was losing hope of surviving.

“It’s rained again, so the patch will still be muddy. I’ll sing one more time, and if my mother doesn’t appear as I sing I’m going to let the slippery ground swallow me up. I’ll put up a fight with anyone who tries to pull me up. This is better for me than dying at the hands of that wicked woman” she thought.

Sarera overheard some of her peers talking about the Sinking Singing Girl eventually.

“This girl could be Mobarewa”, Sarera said to herself. “I’ll find out more about it.”

She started to ask questions and put two and two together from the information she got. There was no doubt in her mind. It was Mobarewa.

“God help me. It looks as if Mobarewa is in deep trouble. I have to go back home immediately, otherwise she’ll die”, Sarera said to herself.

“I’ll always blame myself if anything happens to her. I shouldn’t have left her at home with Rongbe. What was I thinking? How could I have thought for one second that she would be all right with that woman, even if Kerejigbo was there, and it’s obvious that he isn’t back home? How could I have put being an Ojeje Trader above my daughter. How could I have done it against my better judgment…Kerejigbo, what have we done…?” Sarera realized that nothing mattered to her except her child, and was full of remorse. She left Ojeje immediately and did not stop on the way home.

Mobarewa went to the crossroad once more. She stood at her usual spot and started to sing her usual song, and as she sang her feet dug into the slippery, muddy ground. She caught the attention of passers-by immediately, and they rushed to her rescue. She noticed that her mother was not among them. Mobarewa resisted the people’s attempt to pull her up, throwing her arms around, crying and struggling with them.

“Let me die. Please let me die”, she pleaded with them.

“What’s the matter? Why do you want to die?”, some of them asked her.

“Instead of answering she started to sing the same song again, her voice growing faint, and more and more melancholic.

“Listen to the words of her song!” one of the traders said in astonishment, not having heard about the Sinking Singing Girl, and all of them started to talk about her – about what they knew and what they did not know about her. Their attention was momentarily distracted from the girl’s determination to sink into the slippery, muddy ground, and very soon Mobarewa was waist-deep in it.

It was then that her mother appeared on the scene. She was weeping and shouting:

“Please don’t die, Mobarewa. I’m here now…I love you…I’ll take care of you…I’ll never leave you alone again…I’ll make sure that you eat and drink all the nice things that you like, and you’ll be all right again…”.

As Sarera talked haltingly and wept, Mobarewa was pulled from the muddy ground she had been sinking into by more people. Soon mother and daughter rushed towards each other, and hugged each other, talking and weeping. Mobarewa’s voice was very weak, but she managed, between sobs, to tell her mother everything.

“That evil woman ill-treated me, and said that I’d never set eyes on you again if I told anyone…”.

Very soon Sarera and Mobarewa were surrounded by more and more people, as news about them was spreading rapidly. When they heard what had happened, the people were irate, and they started saying one after the other:

“What a wicked woman. What a witch. She wanted the child to die because she doesn’t have a child of own!”

“Imagine Mobarewa having to come out here to sing in order to seek help.”

“Supposing it didn’t occur to her to do so or she doesn’t know how to sing!”

“Imagine the woman ill-treating her in that way and manner”.

“She starved the poor girl, overworked her. No wonder she’s so thin and weak.”

“That woman should be stoned or beaten up. She’s not fit to live among us. Let’s go and see her and deal with her!”

The crowd went home with Sarera and Mobarewa to confront Rongbe. The latter was shocked to see them all, especially Sarera – back from Ojeje.

“What’s the meaning of this? Why are all these people here?” Rongbe asked Sarera sternly.

“Your game is over, Rongbe. Practically everyone in town knows how you’ve been ill-treating my daughter”, Sarera said to Rongbe.

As Sarera spoke the people were shouting and pointing at Rongbe, calling her all sorts of names and wishing her ill.

“Witch! Devil!”

“Child hater!”

“You’ll rot in hell!”

Rongbe tried to deny everything, uttering the lies that she had prepared for her defence:

“It’s not true. I’ve not ill-treated Mobarewa. If anything, it’s the other way round. She threw tantrums…threw food in my face, kicked me…She didn’t do any work in the house…”.

Nobody listened to her, let alone believed her. Instead they had to control themselves from tearing her apart, as accusations kept on pouring in one after the other.

“No wonder she didn’t let us in when we wanted to check up on Mobarewa. She shut the door in our faces saying that Mobarewa had threatened to run away if anyone tried to see her, because it was only her mother she wanted…”.

“You’re a wicked, evil woman. You ate all the food Mobarewa’s mother left her and fed her skins and rinds, and sour water-yam!”

“Don’t say anymore. You wanted Mobarewa to die. Why would she have gone into the trouble she went into to locate her mother just to lie against you?”

“If you’ve been feeding her properly, why is she so weak and thin? You made her do all the work in the house. What’s more you threatened the poor girl with her mother’s death.”

“You wait and see what’ll happen to you! Kerejigbo will soon know what has been going on since we both went away, and practically every Ojeje Traders does by now”, Sarera said to Rongbe, and the latter became more and more afraid of what would happen to her when their husband returned.

“Let me tell you”, Sarera added. “Kerejigbo will now realize what has been happening with you. He’ll believe that you’re so jealous that I have Mobarewa, that you’d stop at nothing to harm her. I think I’ve known it all along as well, but I’ve not wanted to believe it, against my better judgment”.

Rongbe said nothing. She was not only afraid of facing Kerejigbe when he returned, but also embarrassed and ashamed to look at anyone in the face again. She knew that she was the talk of the town – that everyone saw her for what she was: a jealous and wicked woman who would hurt a child just because she did not have one of her own, and because she hated her “iyawo”. She also knew that she was going to be severely dealt with. This kind of behaviour was unacceptable around there.

The following day Rongbe packed her belongings and left home very early in the morning and nobody saw her ever again. Kerejigbo was shocked and very upset when he learnt what had happened to his daughter, but thereafter was very happy to be living with Sarera as his only wife. Peace finally reigned in his household.