I returned from school to find out that Iya Ibadan was sick. She was down with a sudden disrespectful fever. As usual, she resisted every attempt to take her to the hospital. Not even the appeals from Baba Shaki (Mr. Adewale ) and Alhaji Raji that they should take her to Vita Chemist had any effect on her. She told them that at her age, there was nothing to fear about death. But when Iya Fausa, one of Alhaji Raji’s wives asked her if she could make “agbo” (a concoction prepared from a variety of herbs) for her, she gave her approval with a nod of the head . By 5pm in the evening, the “agbo” was ready. She was served in her favourite plastic cup which also served as her tea cup. She placed it on the little stool beside her bed. When she was asked to drink it , she gave the excuse that it was too hot.
Iya Fausa was about to leave to join Iya Waidi and Iya Sidi to cook for the family and supervise the “Gada” meal, when Iya Ibadan asked her to sit. She asked me to bring a ceiling fan thread from the top of the cupboard. She asked Iya Fausa to hold one end of the thread while I should hold the other end. She said we should bend the thread by relaxing it from both ends. We held the thread for almost five minutes, and nothing happened. She asked us to drag the thread from both ends.
The thread cut into two immediately we did that. She wanted to explain the puzzle but ended up with a weird cough. Iya Fausa offered her water, but she declined it. I began to suspect that she was fasting despite her sickness. Someone later came in to inform iya Fausa that her attention was needed at the kitchen. She left without iya Ibadan explaining the thread puzzle. I sat by her bedside pretending as if I had any idea as to the nature of her sickness . The only thing I was doing was to prevent her from coughing because I had watched some movies by Duro Ladipo and Hubert Ogunde where people who were about to die were always coughing. Some seconds later, Iya Ibadan coughed again.
This one was more frightening than the one she had before iya Fausa left. This new one came with some spasms. At this stage, I decided to recite every “kewu” that I could recite. As I was reciting “Laila, ilalahu”, I was also shouting “Astagafuru Lau and “Kuli Allahu adu”. I even tried some “Kurisiu Lai”. I was “lauing and laiing”. Honestly, I didn’t know what I was saying but it seemed to be working because I could see Iya Ibadan smiling. Even the smile was scary because it was one kind. I ran out of the room to go and call Iya Shaki. She was doing ablution because it was almost time to break the fast. Ablution or no ablution, she ran inside our house with trepidation. By the time we got inside, we found iya Ibadan……..
I left her in good condition when I was going to school in the morning. Since I had been living with her, I had never seen her in such a critical condition before. It was therefore disheartening that I met her in such a state. What I was struggling with when I was coming home was whether to confess to her that I had to suspend my fast in order to join the class in celebrating one of my classmates who was celebrating his birthday. I was also ready to tell her that I continued with the fast afterwards. I was expecting, as usual, some lectures on breaking your fast to eat birthday biscuits and sweets. But unfortunately, I met my loving and caring great-grandmother in a very terrible condition.
When the 7pm prayer was over, those who saw the way Iya Shaki ran into our house came to find out what was happening only to discover that my great-grandmother who was seriously sick throughout the day had gotten from the bed to prepare dinner for the two of us. Iya Shaki looked at me as if I was a rumour monger when she entered the house only to discover that Iya Ibadan was cooking dinner for the two of us. Since that day, my suspicion that Iya Ibadan was an angel in human form increased exponentially. How could a woman I left in the room coughing spasmodically be in the kitchen in a matter of 3 to 4 minutes preparing dinner? But one amazing thing about my great-grandmother was that when you were around her, you would feel so calm and happy. There was nothing about her that could make you look so sad or threaten your peace. She was a peaceful woman.
When everybody had gone, we settled down to eat. She started smiling at me again. This time, it was a lovely smile. She asked me where I got all the “kewu” I was reciting from. I told her with a smile that I had no idea of what I was saying but I knew they all had to do with prayer. I told her the truth about the birthday biscuits and sweets. She counselled me on how to discipline my mouth and my tummy. Dinner over. She took a small portion of the “agbo” and lay on the bed with a charming candour.
At about 3am, I started hearing some melodious songs coming from the front of my house urging those who were sleeping to wake up and eat Sari. It went thus: “Iya Ibadan, e dide nle, nitori ỌLỌRUN sari ti to. Iya Sidi e dide nle, nitori ỌLỌRUN sari ti to. Esin ni o ku wa kú bi a de sáré. Eni ba wa ayé maya, a jeka lorun.”( Iya Ibadan, it’s time for sari. Kindly wake up now. Iya Sidi, it’s time for sari. Kindly wake up now. We would be judged by our obedience to religious tenets when we are alone inside the grave. Those who make life difficult for fellow human beings would definitely regret their actions when they get to heaven.) The lyrics were very philosophical. The beats, the dancing and the singing were very melodious. They were beating drums and rolling their shekere with one of them singing the lyrics with excitable voice and the others singing the refrain with rehearsed harmony.
They were called the “Were” group or simply “Ajiwere”. They moved from house to house dancing and singing. We used to hear that the music of Sikiru Ayinde Barrister called Fuji evolved from this genre of “Were” music. I was thrilled by the way they were entertaining the people. I went back inside to see if iya Ibadan had woken up. She had not. I then closed the door without locking it. I started following the Ajiwere from one house to the other enjoying their music and their dancing. I was encouraged to follow them everywhere that dead of the night when I saw some of my friends in the area flocking along with the group. From our street, we crossed the Western Avenue road to Ilumo Street, then to Opeloyeru Mosque in Iluseyi Street. From there, we went through Olorogun Street via Bola Shadipe Street to Kadiri Street, Clegg Street to Ibidun Street. Before I knew what was happening, we had passed Ayilara Street to Ishaga Street and then covered Apena and Fashoro Streets before bursting out at Moshalashi-Idioro via Mabo street. Anyway, I decided to caution myself when we got to Rainbow Cinema, Idi-oro. I didn’t know we had gone that far because we were dancing. I looked around for my area friends but I didn’t see any face that looked familiar. They had all gone back at some points without informing me. I felt like an orphan and an abandoned child when I started walking back to Barracks without any company. Should I go back home through the same routes we came or should I walk straight the roads from Idioro to Alakara, from Alakara to Mosalashi. Then move through Abatti Barracks down to Ojuelegba to Barracks and then to my house. Normally, this should not be a problem for a town boy like me but I was afraid of “Gbomogbomo”
(kidnappers).
For a 10 year-old boy walking and wandering alone on the roads at 4am was somehow bizarre. When I was in the midst of multitude, I felt protected and safe. Walking home alone exposed me to the dangers of loneliness and the trauma of fear . I successfully dragged myself home but iya Ibadan had locked the door. I had to sleep outside the house until 7 am. I was not happy that I was not there for her when she needed me most. But thank GOD, I got home safe and sound.
Later in the day, iya Fausa came to see how she was fairing. Nobody could ever believe that it was this same iya Ibadan that was sick yesterday. She was just gisting with the two of us. Her voice was clear. Her speech was unimpaired . Her smile was radiant. Though sedentary, her movements were unaffected in any way. “I want you to always remain calm no matter the degree of provocation. Avoid conflict as much as possible. This life is too fragile.
You enjoy it better when you take things easy. You provoke unnecessary tension when you flare up over little things that should not matter.” That was her opening speech when Iya Fausa came in. ” Owu laye. Ti o ba dé, ko lè já mo e lọwọ. Sugbon, ti o ba mu le, ko le pe ko to já”. In simple English, she said: “Life is like a thread. It is not under any threat of cutting into two when it is not stretched or stressed. But it loses its balance and stability the moment you make it a theatre of war.”
Hmmmm. “This was what I demonstrated to you yesterday with the ceiling fan thread. When I told you to bend it, you saw that nothing happened to it for about 5 minutes. Even if you held it like that for 100 years, it will never cut. So, take this as Life and the thread theory”.
*To be continued*
