A long, long time ago, in Sasawa, a town in a faraway land there were two brothers, Mariwo and Jiraiye, who were gifted at drumming and singing.

Mariwo and Jiraiye lived with their parents.

Since childhood the two boys had been deeply interested in these two areas.

When not at school, they would hang around professional drummers and singers in their town, and also those who came to perform in their town, for hours on end, observing them, and learning from them.

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However, Mariwo always thought he was better than his younger brother, and any time Jiraiye performed better than him at any of the competitions, Mariwo would be jealous and unhappy even though there were many occasions when he himself stole the show.

Mariwo’s parents had tried to curb this character trait of their older son, and some other undesirable character traits besides, since childhood.

“No two people are the same”, they would advise him.

Mariwo was the opposite of his brother in character and in looks, and the two brothers were well aware of the differences since they were tiny. Jiraiye, a tall, slim and very good- looking boy, was hard-working and intelligent.

He always seemed to have time for others. He was gentle, kind and considerate.

He was also selfless, humble and respectful. Others found him warm and friendly, and liked being around him.

Mariwo, on the other hand, not as tall, slim and good- looking as his brother, was a proud and boastful boy, inconsiderate, selfish, and a bully to boot.

He had no thoughts for others and was always bent on getting his way – sulky and moody if he did not.

Mariwo was not as popular or well-liked as his brother – a fact that did not escape them both. No two brothers could have been so unalike.

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“I wish some people will stop making it obvious that they prefer Jijaiye to Mariwo. People should be more tactful. I’m worried about the effect it’s having on Mariwo. I hope he doesn’t end up hating his brother. That happens sometimes you know…”. Mariwo’s mother said to her husband one day.

“Come! Come! No need to take that view. It seems extreme. Mariwo will just have to learn to cope with how people feel about him. It won’t do him harm to improve his ways though”, her husband answered.

“I guess we’ll just have to continue to do our best with the way we bring up the two of them”, the mother observed.

As time went on, with age and his parents’ help, Mariwo did improve on some of his faults. Unfortunately, the jealousy he felt for his brother remained. Jiraiye was well aware of this but did not let it bother him. He took it in his stride. He loved his brother despite his faults.

As Mariwo and Jiraiye approached the age when they were expected to choose a career, their father started to think of the areas of work that his sons might be interested in, so that he could guide them in their choice and apprentice them to the people who could best give them the training required, as was the custom.

However, the father was worried because all the boys seemed to be interested in were drumming and singing.

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“Drumming and singing are what you do to entertain people, not to earn money. They aren’t careers.

Who’ll take you seriously?

Who’ll pay you?” their father lamented to their mother.

“People who appreciate drumming and singing”, his wife replied.

“There are some people, you know, who appreciate entertainment”.

“Nonsense!” the father replied.

“Anyway, who says that Mariwo and Jiraiye will stop at drumming and singing – that they wouldn’t want to train for anything else?”.

“How can they when they spend practically all their time hanging around drummers and singers, playing at local events and entering competitions?” the father barked.

“Well, we won’t know unless we ask them?” his wife pointed out, and her husband called his two sons immediately.

“Mariwo, Jiraiye, have you thought of what you want to do to earn your living? You’re getting older and soon you have to make your own money”.

“I want to be a drummer and a singer. I’m sure I can make money out of them. Everyone tells me how good I am.” Mariwo answered, self-assuredly.

“Not a good idea” their father answered. “Think of something else!”

“Father” the other brother started “I hear that dancers are doing well – that they’re being paid a lot of money when they win at dancing competitions, and when they entertain at festive events – for example at the homes of titled men, such as chiefs, not to talk of at the Ọba (ruler)’s palace! Why don’t we learn how to dance? I am sure that with our drumming and singing we’d make merry an occasion and go far”.

“Dancing!” Mariwo exclaimed.

“Yes. Why not?”

“I can’t see us becoming professional dancers. It’s too tiring – much harder than drumming and singing. I’m going to be a professional drummer and singer, and that’s that”, Mariwo answered determinedly.

Mariwo was not light on his feet, and he was out of shape; he was also lazy, so it was not surprising that he felt that way. But he was wrong – at least as far as Jiraiye was concerned. Jiraiye was not afraid of hard work. What was more, he was slim, and in very good shape, and would be able to move lithely on the floor.

“If one is interested in dancing and is good at it, and there’s money in it, as Jiraiye has just told us, I don’t see why not” their father said. “Any profession one chooses in life is hard work!”

The boys’ father was not happy about Mariwo’s wish to make a career out of drumming and singing alone but supported his wife in giving Mariwo the training required in the two areas. The two parents decided to also look into Jiraiye’s suggestion about adding dancing to his other skills.

They soon learnt that in Sasawa, gifted dancers were indeed making a great deal of money – just like Jiraiye had said, not only from winning at dancing competitions, but also from entertaining at the Ọba ’s palace, and at the homes of chiefs and other highly-placed people; entertaining was a growth area, and what was more, it appeared that the more varied the mode of entertainment the better.

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Therefore, Jiraiye stood a very good chance of succeeding, if he were to combine dancing with his two other skills – drumming and singing. It would get him very far. He could even be appointed at the palace, as the Ọba ’s leading entertainer.

In those days it was the greatest honour for someone to be chosen as the leading expert in his field out of all the other professionals in that field by the Ọba and invited to reside at the palace. The Ọba had advisers in many different fields whom he consulted, and some of them lived with him at the palace.

The boys’ parents tried to get Mariwo to change his mind and add dancing to his other skills, in view of these developments around them, but he was adamant about wanting to stick to drumming and singing alone. Jiraiye, on the other hand, got the training required from accomplished dancers, and soon it became obvious that he was naturally gifted. He entered competitions and won, and in no time, he was known far and near. He was considered the best in his town. He started entertaining people, combining dancing with drumming and singing, and was doing well. Mariwo, who was not doing as well as his brother with drumming and singing only, became jealous.

“Father, I too would like to take up dancing. I’m sure I can even do better than Jiraiye if I set my mind to it!” he said to his father.

“Here you go again. Your jealous nature will be the end of you if you’re not careful”, his father replied, concerned.

Nevertheless, the father did not dissuade him from taking up dancing. He sought out the best training for his son, and Mariwo started to train to be a dancer. It was hard work. Mariwo, as we know, was a little on the fat side, and lazy, unlike Jiraiye, and could not move lithely on the floor. He also got tired very quickly, not surprisingly. But he did have some ability – some good dancing styles. Jiraiye, on the other hand, was tireless, his dancing styles superb.

Mariwo started entering competitions and entertaining people like his brother, and managed to do well, but never as well as Jiraiye. His jealousy of his brother, which had been dormant for a while, reared its ugly head.
It became the vogue for entertainers to perform in groups in Sasawa. The boys’ father called his sons and suggested to them:

“Why don’t you two work as a team with your dancing, drumming and singing, and perform together at group competitions, and so on?”

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Mariwo was very happy with the suggestion, and the two boys started working together.

Very soon they made money, not only from winning group competitions, but also from performing at the Ọba ’s palace, and at the homes of highly-placed individuals, including chiefs.

Performing with his brother, and with the two of them doing very well, Mariwo found his jealousy dissipating.

Jiraiye did not show him up as much as when Mariwo was performing on his own.

One day there was a dancing competition in Ọttala, a nearby town. This was a well sought-after event to honour the Gods – unique in the land. Not only was the winner given a cash prize by the judges, and showered with money by spectators, he but was also given “The Flower Trophy” – a trophy engraved with a flower. Every performance’s wish was to receive that trophy which was a mark of honour, a symbol of excellence – the highest in the land.
For the first time, groups were invited to compete. The boys’ parents got to know about this competition.

“I think Mariwo and Jiraiye should take part in this competition” the boys’ father said to his wife.

“Why not? Who knows, they may win”, the wife replied excitedly.

“If they win, does that mean that ‘The Flower Trophy’ will be given to them jointly?” she asked her husband.

“Nobody seems to know how it’s going to be done this time around. There’s talk that the trophy can be awarded to only one person, and that even if the competition is won by a group, only one person in the group – the one that steals the show, according to the judges – will receive the trophy. Apparently, the trophy is linked to the Gods in whose honour the festival is being held… It is believed that the trophy has special powers – the power to protect the recipient from danger”.

“Let our boys compete and win then! It wouldn’t matter whether they receive the trophy jointly or not as long as they win! This will be a great honour indeed for us, and for Sasawa. Apparently, the Ọba of the winner’s town always celebrates the occasion in grand style to honour the winner, who is then appointed at court, at the earliest opportunity”.

The boys had heard about the competition even before their parents called them, and told them about it, and had decided to take part in it. The fact that it was not clear whether ‘The Flower Trophy’ would go to the two of them jointly, were they to win, or to only one of them, did not seem to be of concern to the two boys. They were too excited about taking part in the competition to think of anything else; that was what was foremost in their minds: the preparations for the competition, the journey, and meeting the other contestants from elsewhere.

From then on, the two of them discussed from hours on end, how they would perform at the forthcoming festival, giving suggestions and advice to each other here and there.

“I’ll drum and sing to that song whilst you dance to it”, was one of Jiraiye’s suggestions to Mariwo, naming the song.

“Yes. I think I can dance to it better than to that other song you like so much”, Mariwo agreed excitedly, naming the other song”.

They talked about certain dancing styles – whether they suited a particular song, about dancing steps – how to vary them according to the rhythm of the drums (eg from slow to fast), and other performing strategies. They got their instruments ready and discussed what they would wear for the occasion. For example, the type of clothing, and the material for it that was appropriate for dancers, that allowed easy movement, and prevented excessive sweating – something light and porous. They discussed colours; the clothing must be eye-catching, and the colours must blend well. They also discussed shoes, hats…

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Finally, the day arrived.

“Make sure you bring ‘The Flower Trophy’ home. As you know this is the greatest honour around here for dancers. Anyone who wins this trophy will be received well at our Ọba ’s palace, and offered a place there…”, the father said to his sons.

“We will, Father. We will”, the two boys promised.

Mariwo and Jiraiye set out very early in the morning, for Ọttala, travelling on foot with other competitors from their town, stopping on the way to rest. They arrived in Ọttala early in the afternoon and found that all the townspeople had assembled in a big square at the centre of town, where the competition was to take place. All the contestants were lined up on one side of the square. Mariwo and Jiraiye joined them.

After some time, the Chairman for the event welcomed everybody, and went on to explain the procedures for the contest.

“For the first time, we’re welcoming performances from groups, which means that the winner will be either a single performer or a group. However, only one person can receive ‘The Flower Trophy’.

“‘The Flower Trophy’, you may know already, is not just a trophy; it is linked to the Gods in whose honour the festival is being held and is believed to have special powers. It has the power to protect the recipient from danger. In the event of a group contestant winning, only one person in it – the one the judges consider to ‘steal the show’ – will receive the trophy.

“Good luck to you all!”

“Supposing we win, and Jiraiye is awarded the trophy…!”

The implications of what the Chairman had just said sank into Mariwo’s mind. It should not have come as a surprise that only one person would receive the trophy, but Mariwo had been too excited about taking part in the contest to have given the matter any thoughts. Now his mind was inundated with the thoughts of Jiraiye receiving the trophy, and he felt very uncomfortable about it; he did not know how he would cope with it.

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The contest started, and then it was time for Mariwo and Jiraiye to perform. They took it in turns to dance, and they danced a great deal, one of them beating the drums and singing. They both performed very well, complementing each other, and there was cheering, clapping, showering of praises, and whistling from the spectators.

Once, when Mariwo was drumming and singing, and Jiraiye was dancing to a slow rhythm, all of a sudden, the rhythm of the drumming changed. The drums began to beat faster and faster, and Jiraiye changed his steps to suit the rhythm. He danced as he had never danced before, captivated by the sound and the tempo of the drums. The spectators went wild, clapping, cheering, whistling, and asked for a repeat performance – an ‘encore’. Mariwo was filled with rage and envy, but his emotions were misplaced. The two brothers were both gifted in their areas. Jiraiye had an edge over his brother when it came to dancing, as we know, because he could move lithely on the floor, which enhanced his dancing moves. He also possessed the energy required for this kind of dancing. Jiraiye’s movements to the drums (and in some cases, songs) were especially captivating, mesmerising. He moved with grace. He also had charisma; he exuded warmth, which was lacking in his brother’s performance.

Mariwo’s superb performance at the drums enhanced Jiraiye’s dancing, and the other way around, but Mariwo was a little fat, as we know, and could not move lithely on the floor. He also got tired quickly. They both had rhythm which was essential in dancing.

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Mariwo was not content with any of this.

“If we win, does this mean that Jiraiye will receive ‘The Flower Trophy?’ he wondered, distressed. “How will I face everyone back home, especially Father and Mother. What’s more our Ọba will invite Jiraiye to court…”.

“I can’t let this happen. What am I going to do? Why don’t I just dance one more time? Perhaps Jiraiye is right about those steps…I’ll change the steps this time”.

When it was Jiraiye’s turn to dance once more, Mariwo begged him to change places with him – to drum and sing to some steps that he knew very well. They had performed this number successfully before…and Mariwo was hoping that he would receive the same applause as his brother, and an ‘encore’.

Jiraiye agreed, and Mariwo got on the dance floor. He did the number, and the spectators applauded; they clapped and cheered, but did not ask for an ‘encore’. Mariwo was greatly disappointed and was still smarting under his disappointment when the competition came to a close.

The judges deliberated with each other and told the Chairman of the occasion whom they had appointed as winner/winners. The contestants waited for the winner/winners to be announced.

Mariwo and Jiraiye won. Everyone in the audience applauded; they got up, cheered and cheered, clapped, whistled, and started to shower the two brothers with money.

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All the time this was happening, Mariwo was not at ease; he was wondering if his brother was going to get more money than him.

“What if he’s announced the winner of the trophy?”

Jiraiye did receive ‘The Flower Trophy’.

Mariwo could not bear it and was almost bursting with rage.

He felt so ashamed, as if he would have liked to disappear from the face of the earth; he felt so dejected, so downcast.

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“Let’s get out of here!” he said to his brother in a gruff manner. “I’ve had enough”. He was completely tensed up.

“I’m coming. I just want to talk to some of the other contestants over there”, Jiraiye replied. “There’s no hurry!”

“I said ‘Let’s get out of here!’ Didn’t you hear me?” Mariwo barked.

Jiraiye refused to be bullied, and went to speak to the people, wondering what had got into his brother.

Mariwo stormed off. He found a quiet spot close to the square, where the competition had taken place, and sat down under a tree.

Whilst waiting for his brother Mariwo counted the money that had been showered upon him. It was a lot of money – in cowries.

“ Ẹgbẹrun !” (a thousand)

He was so surprised that he had received as much money as this that he found himself relaxing a little.

“I doubt if Jiraiye would have received as much or more than this”, he thought, delighted.

“ Ẹgbẹrun !” He just could not believe his luck.

“Perhaps the spectators themselves thought that I performed better than Jiraiye, even if the judges thought otherwise, and awarded him the trophy. Otherwise, how could I have got so much money. Ẹgbẹrun !”

“How much money did you get?” Mariwo asked Jiraiye, as soon as the latter came to look for him and found him close to the square.

“I don’t know. I haven’t counted it yet.”

“Then count it!” Mariwo ordered.

“What’s got inside him? Why is he behaving like this?” Jiraiye was wondering.

Jiraiye counted his money.

“ Ẹgbẹwa ” (two thousand) he informed his brother.

“ Ẹgbẹwa ! Ẹgbẹwa ! Impossible!” Mariwo thought. Ẹgbẹwa was much higher than Ẹgbẹrun .

He grabbed the money from his brother and counted it again and again.

“ Ẹgbẹwa ! Ẹgbẹwa !” he barked. He was so upset he almost collapsed from shock. In fact, it looked as if life had gone out of him.

Jiraiye was taken aback by his brother’s behaviour, because he had never seen him act with such rage before. As he looked in wonder, he heard him mutter something to himself, and had to strain his ears to hear what he was saying.

“I got Ẹgbẹrun ! I got Ẹgbẹrun !”

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It suddenly occurred to Jiraiye that Mariwo was behaving the way he was because he was upset that Jiraiye got more money than him. But then he had behaved strangely earlier on as well – immediately after the competition, wanting to get away. “That look on his face…”, Jiraiye thought. He decided not to dwell on it.

“Why don’t we divide the money we both got equally between us?” Jiraiye suggested, trying to placate him.

Mariwo did not answer. He was so jealous because Jiraiye had won ‘The Flower Trophy’ and could not think straight anymore. He knew that the parents and the neighbours, and anybody else would get to know about what had happened at the contest, if Jiraiye took the trophy home.

“This must not happen”, he finally thought to himself. “But what can I do?”

They started their journey home, and on the way Mariwo who had not said one word, since Jiraiye’s suggestion that they should share the money equally between them, continued to think about what to do to resolve this matter that weighed heavily on his mind.

“I can’t ask Jiraiye to swap places with me, can I?”

Suddenly and idea struck him.

“If I were to return home alone…”.

Further ideas about what could happen to cause him to return home alone flooded Mariwo’s mind.

Jiraiye had been feeling very uncomfortable with the way his brother had suddenly gone silent, wondering yet again what had got into him. He remembered that look on Mariwo’s face. He glanced at him now and was taken completely by surprise. The look was back on his face, and suddenly Jiraiye realized what had been bothering his brother.

‘The Flower Trophy’! Mariwo was jealous and angry that he had not won the trophy.

“You can have the trophy you know”, he said to Mariwo.

Mariwo did not answer. He was too far gone in his thoughts about how to stop Jiraiye taking the trophy home, that the latter’s offer of the trophy did not seem like a solution to him. The two brothers continued on their way home. Jiraiye was not happy about Mariwo’s behaviour, and was eager to get home, so that the two of them could discuss the whole issue with their parents. Little did he know what was really going on in Mariwo’s mind.

The two brothers came to an open space near where they lived. They had not stopped on the way back home because the contest had ended in the afternoon, and they needed to get home before it was dark. Now night was falling and no one was around.

“Let’s stop for a while and rest”, Mariwo said to Jiraiye. Jiraiye lọoked at his brother, surprised.

“It’s getting late. Father and Mother will be worried”.

“I’m tired. We’ve had a long day, and I just need to rest for a while. I can’t walk any further. You can go on home on your own if you like”.

“I can’t do that. You know very well that Father and Mother would expect us to come home together. By the way, have you forgotten that we’ve been warned not to hang around here because some wild animals come out at night?”

“Nonsense! People just say that to scare children. It’s all right. We’re adults now.”

Jiraiye agreed reluctantly and sat down with his brother near a tree with wide-spreading branches. He put his trophy down beside him. Mariwo seemed to have become himself again, as he chatted away with his brother. Jiraiye felt more at ease, after the way his brother had made him feel earlier.

“ Look! There’re some stones here”, Mariwo said to Jiraiye, picking up a huge stone. “We can easily defend ourselves against any wild animals that dare come our way”, he added, laughing.

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Suddenly they both heard a noise.

Jiraiye was the first to jump up, forgetting to pick up his trophy in his haste to.

“Oh! Don’t forget your trophy”.

As Jiraiye bent down to pick up the trophy, Mariwo brought the stone in his hand down heavily on his brother’s head, ignoring his stunned expression. Mariwo continued to strike his brother on the head with the stone, ignoring his pleas that he should spare his life, until he died.

Mariwo decided to bury his brother’s body on the spot where the trophy had lain to show his disdain.

“Now we’ll see who carries the trophy home…!”

By now a plan had formed in his head as to what to say to the parents. He tore part of Jiraiye’s clothing and left for home.

“You’re back! You’re back!” the mother said excitedly, when Mariwo entered the house.

“How did it go? So, you won the trophy. Well done!” the father joined in, equally excited.

“But why’s Jiraiye lingering behind?” the mother asked, looking at Mariwo enquiringly, when, after a while, Jiraiye still had not showed up, and was puzzled by the look on her son’s face.

“Where’s your brother”, the parents asked at the same time.
“Father, Mother, you’d better sit down”, Mariwo said.

Husband and wife looked at each other, speechless, and at their son, and then sat down, shaking visibly.

“We won the contest, and we were showered with a lot of money. Jiraiye got much more money than I did – Ẹgbẹwa ; I got Ẹgbẹrun – but then I had been awarded the trophy. We must have both performed very well.

“After the contest Jiraiye told me that he wanted to speak to some of the other contestants. I left him to do so, went to sit quietly under a tree close to the square where the competition had taken place, telling him where to find me. I waited and waited for him but Jiraiye did not return. I went to look for him searching inside and all around the square, and then found part of his clothing on the trunk of a tree at the other side of the square”, Mariwo recounted to his parents, showing them Jiraiye’s torn clothing that he had brought along with him.

“He must have been followed or lured away by thieves, who might have been at the contest, and known that we had been given a lot of money. Perhaps the contestants he went to talk to lured him away on one pretext or the other, or he went willingly with them, unaware that they could be jealous of our victory and the money we made. For whatever reason, somebody or some people must have killed Jiraiye, or perhaps he was attacked, and he struggled with his attackers, and died accidentally. There was no sign of his body anywhere, so whoever killed Jiraiye must have carried his body away.”

The parents were very unhappy to learn Mariwo’s news and decided that Jiraiye must have met with an accident. It was better for them to think that than to think that he had been murdered. They started to mourn their son and suspected nothing. Mariwo’s success was celebrated by the Ọba in great style, and he was given the option of taking up a position at court at the earliest opportunity.

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‘The Flower Trophy’ was believed to have special powers that were linked to the Gods in whose honour the festival had been set up. No one else could lay claim to it except the owner, without suffering some consequences. Very soon a beautiful flower grew on the spot where the wicked brother buried his younger brother.

One day a hunter was passing near the open space where Jiraiye was buried and saw the flower from afar – glowing in the sun. There was nobody around.

“What a glorious looking flower! I must pluck it and take it home!” he said to himself. As he was about to pluck it, it started to sing:

Ọdẹ, Ọdẹ, Ọdẹ, Ọdẹ Hunter, Hunter, Hunter, Hunter
Egungun mi lo n fọn It’s the sound of my bones you can hear
Ẹgbọn mi lo pa mi si papa My brother killed me at the open space
O gbododo mi lọ He took my Flower from me
Ọdẹ, Ọdẹ Hunter, Hunter
Egungun mi lo n fọn It’s the sound of my bones you can hear

The hunter could not believe his ears. He looked around, and then bent down again. The same thing happened. He tried to make sense of the whole thing – of why a f lower should be singing, and what the words meant. When he could not, he rushed straight to tell the Ọba (ruler).

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

“Kabiyesi!” (Your Majesty!) the hunter began when he was ushered in to see the Ọba. “I can’t believe what happened to me today”, he said and recounted the whole incident to the Ọba who was amazed by it. “You have to come and see with your own eyes!”

“A singing flower!” the Ọba exclaimed. “Impossible! Let’s go at once!”

The Ọba and his courtiers, went to the open space with the hunter, and as soon as the Ọba bent down to touch the flower, it started to sing:

Ọba, Ọba, Ọba, Ọba
Egungun mi lo n fọn
Ẹgbọn mi lo pa mi si papa
O gbododo mi lọ
Ọba, Ọba
Egungun mi lo n fọn

“I don’t believe this! Call the whole town for a meeting!” he said to his courtiers. “We have to get to the bottom of this. This is not a laughing matter. The flower is trying to tell us something”.

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A messenger was sent around the town ringing a bell, and saying: “You’re all summoned to the Ọba’s palace immediately”.

Soon everyone that was in town at that moment had thronged the palace, and immediately the Ọba addressed them, and told them the whole story.
“All of you must come with me to the open space. There could be a murderer among us, and he or she must be found. We’ve to get to the bottom of all this!”
They got to the open space, and as some of the people bent down to touch the flower, it started to sing again:

Ara ilu, ara ilu Towns people, towns people
Egungun mi lo n fọn
Ẹgbọn mi lo pa mi si papa
O gbododo mi lọ
Ara ilu, ara ilu
Egungun mi lo n fọn

As it sang everyone was listening carefully to the words. Mariwo’s father who was there together with his wife and Mariwo, spotted a necklace on the ground – not too far away from the flower. The words of the song had not had any significance for him – not even the part about a stolen flower. He certainly did not connect it with ‘The Flower Trophy’! But now, seeing the necklace on the ground, and knowing, without any doubt, that it belonged to Jiraiye, the father was shocked. This was a necklace Jiraiye always wore.
Mariwo’s father pulled his wife to one side and told her what he had just spotted.

“Is that not Jiraiye’s necklace – the one you gave him for his 10th birthday, and he has been wearing since then?”

The wife saw the necklace and gasped in shock and horror.

“It is indeed. What do we do now?” she asked her husband. Did Mariwo murder Jiraiye? Surely Mariwo can’t be a murderer?”

“Well, sooner or later someone else will spot the necklace and connect it with the flower and want to know whom it belongs to. I’m sure people who know Jiraiye will remember seeing the necklace around his neck and will tell the Ọba”.

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In the meantime, the Ọba was looking at his people.

“I wonder which of your children could do this to each other”, he wondered filled with anger. There was no doubt in his mind that a murder had been committed.

“I order any parents here with grown-up children who’ve lost one of them – perhaps recently – to come forward and touch this flower”, he commanded.

“I’d better go first”, Mariwo’s father said to his wife. If Mariwo is a murderer everyone will know sooner or later. I hope there are some mistakes”.

“Let me go first”, he said to the Ọba, who then made way for him.
“Go ahead, please”, the Ọba replied.

As soon as Mariwo’s father bent down to touch the flower, it started to sing:

Baba, Baba, Baba, Baba (Father, Father, Father)
Egungun mi lo n fọn
Ẹgbọn mi lo pa mi si papa
O gbododo mi lọ
Baba, Baba,
Egungun mi lo n fọn

The father was shocked, confused, and afraid.

“Is my son a murderer? Mariwo murdered Jiraiye?” He did not want to believe it. Everyone around, including the Ọba was shocked as well.

“Perhaps you should have a go as well”, the father said to his wife. “If the song is referring to Mariwo why should he have killed his brother for a flower? Surely there are other people in this town with grown up children, who have lost one of them”.

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”Kabiyesi! May I be allowed to touch the flower?” the mother asked the Ọba .

“Certainly” the Ọba replied.

Mariwo’s mother bent down to touch the flower. This time the flower decided to sing another song – perhaps to throw more light on the situation:

Iya mai ja o Mother don’t pluck it
Ajantiele
Iya mai ja o
Ajantiele
A jo, jo, jo We danced and danced
Ajantiele
A jo aa yọ We danced and were merry
Ajantiele
Won fo ‘un l Ẹgbẹrun They gave him Ẹgbẹrun
Ajantiele
Won f’emi l Ẹgbẹwa They gave me Ẹgbẹwa
Ajantiele

O p’aburo He killed his younger brother
O sika Ẹgbọn p’aburo The wicked brother killed his younger brother
Ajantiele
Iya mai ja o Ajantiele
Iya mai ja o Ajantiele

Mariwo’s parents were devastated because the song talked about two siblings dancing and dancing, and the money they were given.

“The competition! Of course! Didn’t Mariwo mention that they were given a lot of money – that Jiraiye got more than him – Ẹgbẹwa to Mariwo’s Ẹgbẹrun . The first song made reference to a flower. Of course! ‘The Flower Trophy’!” husband and wife were thinking. “Jiraiye must have been awarded the ‘The Flower Trophy’, and Mariwo killed him “.

Everything fell into place.

“Oh! My God!” the mother exclaimed.

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They should have seen this coming and tried to prevent it. They started to remember how jealous Mariwo had always been of Jiraiye. They cast their minds back to incidents in Mariwo’s lives when this jealousy was so glaring, even though they had tried to curb it – when they should have taken more stock. But then, since the two brothers had been working together as a team and getting on well with each other, Mariwo had not shown any signs that he was still jealous of his brother – jealous to the extent that he would kill him cold-bloodedly. The parents wished that their sons had not competed for ‘The Flower Trophy’ – had not gone away together alone…

“Well, well, well! You’d better touch the flower, Mariwo”, Mariwo’s father went to where his son was standing and ordered him. He was so angry now that there was no doubt in his mind that the song was about his two sons. He pushed Mariwo forward so violently that the boy almost fell to the ground.

“Go ahead, touch the flower”, he commanded him gruffly.

Mariwo started to shiver uncontrollably – to deny any involvement in the matter, to proclaim his innocence.

“I know nothing about this. How could I have killed my brother. I told you what happened.

“I don’t want to hear anything more. Just touch the flower”, the father barked, irate. He pushed his son towards the flower.
Mariwo had no choice but to comply with his father’s wish in full view of everyone, and as soon as he touched the flower, it started to sing:

“Ẹgbọn, Ẹgbọn, Ẹgbọn, Ẹgbọn Brother, Brother, Brother, Brother
Egungun mi lo n fọn
Iwo lo pa mi si papa You are the one who killed me at the open space
T’ogbododo mi lọ To take my Flower from me
Ẹgbọn, Ẹgbọn
Egungun mi lo n fọn

After hearing the exchanges between husband and wife, and the song, there was no doubt in anyone’s mind that Mariwo did murder his brother. In the twinkle of and eye Mariwo was rounded upon in anger. The Ọba could not control them.

“Murderer! Murderer!” they shouted.

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No one meant to kill him, but the anger the people around felt was excessive. After a while Mariwo fell to the ground, bleeding from the wounds inflicted upon him. He tried to get up, and then fell down again, this time knocking his head against a huge stone, bleeding more profusely and dying from his wounds, before anything could be done for him. Some of Mariwo’s blood splashed on the flower, and to everyone’s shock and amazement, the flower suddenly disappeared. In return Jiraiye sprang up in front of everybody, alive and well. Some people in the crowd started to scream, some to cry, and some simply ran off in fear.

“Why, why, Mariwo?”, Jiraiye said to his dying brother. “You didn’t have to kill me. We could have shared the money. I could have given you ‘The Flower Trophy’. You’re my brother, and I love you…”.

“I’m so very sorry…Forgive me. It’s my jealousy that’s blinded me all along to the fact that I love you too, and that that’s more important than wanting what you have…”, Mariwo said, as he breathed his last breath.

The parents were very happy to see Jiraiye again but devastated by Mariwo’s death.

The Ọba commiserated with the couple, and took his leave, after addressing the crowd.

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“My people, I thank you for coming here today. I hope this town will never witness anything like this again!”

The crowd dispersed, talking about the incident in wonder, shock, and disbelief.

“A singing flower”.

“How could Mariwo have done that to his brother?”

“He deserved what he got”.

“I feel sorry for their parents. They found a son again, and lost the other…”.

For a long time to come the incident of a brother killing another brother was much talked about in that town.

On the way home, Jiraiye told his parents everything that had happened to him.

“The last thing I knew, I was knocked down on the head…”.

“’The Flower Trophy’ must have saved me!” he continued. From now on I’ll keep it close to me in case it comes to my rescue again!”
In due course Jiraiye was appointed as the leading expert in his three areas and was invited to reside at court which made his parents very happy.