short story

Ginuwa graced his gaits gaily, his corals grand upon his bulk, as the sea of feet approached the royal palace.



Behind the ever luxuriant vegetation, timid eyes gazed at the entourage



Silence! As absolute as the grave, only punctuated by booming of feet and pounding of many a frightened heart – stilled the humid tropical air. Hieroglyphics signs of long forgotten symbolism littered the palace floor and walls. Wretched monitor lizards were ubiquitous. Relics of almost forgotten ancestors adorned the walls, all ebony complexioned, seven feet tall, greeted the curious eyes of throne hungry men. The ancestral archetypes had been exterminated in a war with the gods from outer space who visited Warri eons ago.



The Onirigbo knew his time had come. The ever accurate oracle of Ifa had peeped into the corridors of the future and foretold the coming of the lord of hosts.



As Ginuwa stood before the Onirigbo, his mind raced to the dictates of his great father: “you shall go the coast with this message - ‘all that I see; and all you can view has been ordained by the great lord, to constitute a great and envious throne.”



Gradually, the Onirigbo raised his bowed head; his sunken eyes reflected a man who had lost the battle before the fight.



In the midst of his men Ginuwa’s bulk stood out. Dibie, the son of Ogiefa, a descendant of Orunmila, who descended from the heavens in a fiery craft, in order to wage war with the aborigines of Warri, was the brain of his gang.



“In the minds battle many wars are wrought. Son, few ever lead to the soul’s fever. So much undue fame is by fierce wars bought. You shall establish a kingdom of peace, where beauteous mimes will never ever cease!” Dibie was still entranced in the words of his oracle, when like a rusty metallic gong ‘good day Sirs’, the silence was broken.



Like new wine in new wine skin, Dibie’s wisdom brims to the surface like the vibrant lather of a detergent in soft water. He burst forth: “we have meandered through snaky water ways, made more sinister by ghostly shadows of phantom trees, our way as royal refugees to establish a new kingdom. Now, we’ve met a land bare, except for a man.”



The Onirigbo gazed at them. “Great Lord of hosts, the land abounds with people. All fled when they beheld your strange presence like some gods from outer space, set to wreck havoc. Look at buildings all around, today is Oroke’s market day in this great city. Ifa foretold your coming, what we never foresaw is that it will be this grand.”



The Onirigbo stood “Lord of hosts, from the peeping of the eye of heaven, to the locus where its solace light cling, I have abdicated to your rule, as the gods ordained. Since we are matrilineal we have to come to a compromise, my daughter, Esilokun shall be your wife to continue my lineage in your seed, so that together we shall be one people. Convinced that the strangers came for good, people that lurked behind many a thicket came out.



The crowd celebrated in fanfare: ladies swivelled to the beat of the drum; while men sang to the tunes of plenteous rum.



As Dibie's eyes met Ginuwa’s he said - “we have moved from glory to glory”.



Ginuwa nodded and grinned. When they looked out for the Onirigbo, he was not found he had faced the direction of the setting sun seeking a new home.