Let me return back to the tale again ore.

For this palmwine is beginning to loose my tongue the more and I am feeling more giddy like a little ‘oyinbo’ girl about to go on her first date.

A thing that would have been unheard of because the poor girl would have been laden with much chores from her mother.


Being the child of the richest man in the village back then, I changed women like a wealthy iya loja changes her Iro and buba on a weekly basis

Like an Are-ona-kakanfo who is a war monger, I sought out to conquer new maidens and add them to an already flowing list of past victorious conquests.

Like a randy Kabiesi who women fear to visit in the palace, my eyes shone ‘kokoko’ like the unrelenting and unmerciful afternoon sun everytime I saw a woman.

Like the bloodthirsty witch who began to drink her own blood because she had run out of family members to murder, I even began to cast my net to fish in forbidden waters

As I began to call my distant cousin’s into dark corners in the village square and inside my father’s cocoa farm


Little did I know that I was being targeted too.


For the cat who terrorizes the peace of the mice in the whole village should know that it is being discussed in hushed tones during the midnight hour

And the hunter who decides to shoot at the idanri monkeys for sport should know that Olorun oba also gave them the knowledge to organize meetings where they can jointly iron out their issues.


Ore mi.

‘Stolen waters are sweet but poisonous in nature.”

So said mama Agba to me as she was about to leave the shores of this earth to join her Ajani who had gone three years earlier.


“Rora se Aye jeje ki o ma lo te o”

So said baba Tanimola after being struck by a scorpion in the soft part of his thigh.

A bite that meant that he would die immediately because Baba Jide, the village herbalist who knew the names and oriki of every egbo (herb) in the forest, was away for an important meeting at a far village.

Words which I personally thought, were uttered out of deliquium due to the venom working to stop the flow of blood to his head.

Words which I thought, were uttered by a man who wanted to protect Sinmbiat, a flower in his compound which he strove to keep away from my hands.


I did not listen ore.

A decision that meant that I ended in the same pakute (trap) which I had set up to trap the agbonrin who constantly enticed me with her elegant steps and infrequent disappearing acts.


That agbonrin was Ariyike

And she was who I could conveniently call a ‘stunner’





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