OLA: The Tale Of A Young Moon Maiden episode TWO Ko koro koo! The red-colored rooster crowed from the backyard barn. As it did the second time, the door of the hut Ola shared with her little brother, Ikem, squeaked and opened. Ola came out and dropped on one of the stumpy logs of wood lying by the side of the hut. Dawn was still at its first stroke and neither a thing could be seen. Raucous singing of nocturnal insects still filled the air. With a mild sigh, she leaned over and buried her face in her lap. The dreams always meant the end of sleep for that night. Though she’d been having them since she was like nine, it was still the one thing she hated to discuss. Only Nne knew—‘their little secret’ as she called it, before her death. She was probably afraid they’d call her a witch and have her burned too, so she told no one else. Ola remained outside till a flock of okri birds perched on the tall tree behind the hut. Their characteristic giggle—kwii kwu kwi kwi, indicated full crack of dawn. “Ola.” Nnaa’s voice startled her. She jerked and sat upright. “Did you sleep outside?” “No, father,” she said, rubbing her eyes. “I came out in the morning.” This time her voice was distorted by a yawn. “Was it too hot inside?” Ola’s lips drew apart but words couldn’t come out soon enough. She could have said yes, that it was too hot inside because it had not rained in Odu for many months now. The rains have taken to inconsistent patterns since the witches started playing with the moon. But it wasn’t the heat inside that brought Ola-edo outside. It was something else, something else she preferred not to talk about. Though she’d always known she was different and even allowed herself think she was a witch at times too, but she’d decided, as Nne always told her, never to see herself as any less a normal maiden of Odu. “Pleasant morning, Nnaa.” Ikem was stretching and yawning as he plodded out of the hut. “Ikem, did you sleep well?” “Yes, Nnaa.” Nnaa left them and walked to the back of the hut. Ikem dropped to the ground beside his big sister. “Pleasant morning, Ola.” Ola gave him a big smile. “How was the night, Ikem?” “Fine.” “Ola, please sing nwaniga for me,” Ikem said, in his usual pestering manner which Ola finds the least pleasing. Though she hardly lets him notice, not even now the little boy had unknowingly done her a favor. “Ikem, it is still too early.” “Please.” He reached for Ola’s hand and shook it. “It’s still too early, biko. I’ll sing after we come back from the stream.” “You will tell me you want to sweep.” “Then after the sweeping.” “No, you will start cooking.” Though Ola-edo does not sing much, she sang well. She had the clear, sonorous voice required to call the moon. Only Ikem, and Nene sometimes, had enjoyed her voice. Once, she finally agreed the join the other girls and go to the palace to sing at the king’s coronation anniversary, after Nene’s aggressive persuasion. The king would reward them well. Each girl may get a full hand of beads and several heads of wrapper, the girl whose voice impressed the king the most would even get more gifts. Ola had stood in line with the other maidens, sixth from the person in front as they swayed and jiggled into the ceremony ground. But after she turned again and noticed the prince’s eyes were still on her, a wave of awkwardness swamped over her and she crept out. Not too many noticed her abrupt exit though, but the handsome prince of Odu wouldn’t let her be since after that day. He had hunted her like game, precious game. “Ola!” Nene’s voice echoed all around the small compound. “Ola-edo!” Ola came out of her hut. She had washed her face and changed her bosom cloth—a narrow piece of clothing worn around the chest and knotted at the back. A waist cloth—a larger piece of skirtlike clothing was worn at the waist. Sometimes, strings of waist beads were worn with the waist cloth, though only by those who could afford it. “Ikem we are leaving,” Ola said. She lifted her water pot and strode toward Nene who was busy adjusting her bosom cloth. She was plump and some inches below Ola. Her bosoms were full and sometimes it became a burden holding them in place with the narrow strip of bosom cloth. Ikem grabbed his own small pot and ran toward them. Ola plucked a dried leaf from a dying shrub at the side of the narrow road and manipulated it. “Ola, I ask you!” Nene yelled. Ola looked at her, absently crushing the leaf in her hand. “I really don’t know, Nene. There is nothing spectacular about the festival again. I’ll wear any of my old clothes.” Nene stared at her. “This coming festival will be different.” “And how do you know that, Nene?” “I don’t know, I just knew.” Ola gave an amused snort. “I wonder why you concern yourself so much.” Nene shot her a frown of incredulity. “Ola, we have been without the rains for over six months now and I have not seen bright moonlight again since I was a child. These days you can hardly make out the cloaked moon in the sky and you think I’m being unnecessarily concerned?” She swallowed. “Ola don’t you remember those times we used to run around under the full moon, the times that night looked like day? The times we—” emotion caused her to pause. Ola gave a deep sigh. “They said until the priestess names another moon maiden, things will never change.” “Change?” Nene cut in, annoyance showing in her voice. Ola wondered if she had said something too wrong. “Can’t you see things are getting worse by the day?” She pushed out her water pot to Ola. Ola held the pot while she adjusted her bosom cloth again. “There’s nothing we can do, Nene,” Ola said, trying to sound comforting. “We are just maidens.” Nene stared at her and did not say another word. There was a long pause before any of them said anything again. “But do you think Efu is ready to name anyone yet?” Nene asked. She now sounded calmer, consoled. “Well, we just have to pray she does, and soon enough too,” Ola said. “I pray o, otherwise I will just have to run away from this kingdom.” Ola laughed. “To where if I may ask?” “Anywhere but Odu.” Ola shook her head in mock pity. “Such a journey will take days without a horse, and moreover—” “Ola!” someone called from their back. It was a voice Ola was familiar with. Even Nene too. They halted and turned back. “Greetings, Your Highness,” they chorused, kneeling. They remained on their knees till Prince Onyema got to them. It was the custom, though Onyema hardly ever minded. In that, and in so many other ways, he was different from his father, the king. “Rise, beautiful maidens of Odu,” the prince said. Onyema’s voice easily disclosed what beauty of a man he was. As one of the girls from the group gossiping about him would say, “Even a blind girl will feel the shivers on the mere hearing of his voice.” The maidens of Odu did that often—cluster in small groups to discuss their men. Only the very handsome, and the very ugly, make interesting topics. The former would throw them into several frenzied acts to demonstrate their longing and the other, the creator of gales of sardonic laughter. “Thank you, my prince,” the girls chorused as they rose
Posted on: Fri, 19 Dec 2014 12:47:21 +0000
Trending Topics
Recently Viewed Topics
© 2015