A story of African descent about the sacrificial nature of women.
"I have suffered!" Aderonke wailed loudly, as she held her son's corpse in her hands. "Where do I start from now that I have attained menopause? Okan soso mi ti lo." Friends and family of the Adenusi's condolences seemed to only worsen the situation.
Alabi Adenusi and his beautiful wife, Ronke Adelakin had courted for eight years, before the finally tied the knot.
Alabi was born to a peasant farmer, and remained the only survivor of eight children born by his parents. Alabi had to drop out of high school, to see to his father's business, and he played the deep role of moving the farm produce of palm oil, kolanuts, cassava grain and yam tuber to Lagos.
Alabi sat at the centre of the popular oyingbo market which was the centre of commercialism at that time. He watched the trains skid the rails, sending light tremors over to the basement of his wooden stall.
The market as usual, was filled to capacity with people from various walks of life, but a particular lady had caught his attention.
She was about five feet, blonde haired, flared hips and the green gown which covered her knees conveniently, but mapped out her delicate curves, distorted his focus for a few minutes.
"Alabi!" Mama Arepo, finally overpowered his distraction. Mama Arepo was an elderly woman, and Alabi's greatest yam patron. "Mama I'm very sorry to have kept you standing." Alabi apologised, still finding it difficult to take his searching eyes off this mystery lady.
"You definitely like that girl. Your attention has been on her all the while. Her name is Ronke, and her residence is just two streets away. She's the daughter of the local government councilor, Chief Adelakin." Mama Arepo, accentuated the "local government councilor."
Alabi wasn't sure a lady with such reputation, would love to be involved with a pauper like him. He marveled at Mama Arepo's vast knowledge about everything that goes on in the area. It got to a point he thought she'd probably know when a housefly was fertilised with eggs.
Alabi closed stock early enough. He had proper information about the object of his feelings. There were varieties of ladies here in Lagos. They trudged the market daily, but none had interested him like Ronke.
He had a shower at the public toilet, and scented himself with the body spray he bought from his sales. His friends had always told him that smelling nice was appealing to women.
Just as he marveled at the affluence, Ronke's residence reflected, the small gate opened, and there was his anticipated bride, strolling out into the grasp of the cold evening breeze.
Alabi never lacked confidence in his ability to approach anyone, and he accosted Ronke. "Hello, good evening." Alabi greeted, making sure his eyeballs remained fixed on her. Ronke's reply was crisp enough for Alabi to realise that she had anticipated that moment to have a word with him.
The years rolled by, and Alabi found Ronke to be a different breed, from what other rich girls were know for - pride. Her parents stood strongly against her preference for Alabi than the Governor's son - Adekunle.
The entry of Ronke into Alabi's life had changed his destiny for good. Petty farming, became a commercial enterprise he had to employ workers to handle.
Alabi became a top exporter of cocoa and kolanuts as well, and he got married to Ronke with her parents consent.
They had waited twelve years for the only issue that had now died. The people of Owu, had killed an innocent pregnant woman, who visited at a time the Oro festival was holding. A festival which forbids a woman to behold it's masquerade. An offence punishable only by death.
The dibia had predicted, that the only way to revert the curse laid by the woman on the people of Owu before her death, was to have a pregnant woman buried alive.
"A woman from a foreign land will come into this town, she will be the one who can revert the curse that kills all our children and pregnant women. She should be buried and kept alive only at her consent to do so." The dibia sputtered.
"But how do we know who in particular, seeing that so many people move in here from the city." The king of Owu breathed.
"She would lose her first child, but get pregnant, despite her menopause." Came the curt reply.
Exactly a year after her first son's death, Ronke discovered she was pregnant, at a time when it was deemed impossible. The news reached the king and he paid a visit at once to the Solanke's.
"Kabiesi, you should have just sent for me, rather than coming to see me yourself." Alabi said with a bowed face to the floor. "Hmn my son, the matter to be discussed isn't something you should come to the palace for, because I need something grave from you." The king muttered ruefully.
"Ask kabiesi and I will help out." Alabi responded. The king took a deep breath, before he found his voice. "Alabi, you are aware of the present problem of this town, and you know the dibia has told us the way out." "Yes kabiesi." "I have come to plead for your wife's consent to be the living sacrifice to avert the curse laid on this town. All our children are dying."
The ensuing silence that filled the room, would make the steps of an ant audible. "I will sacrifice myself for the breakthrough of the people of Owu. There shall be no more deaths." All eyes turned to Ronke with her protruding belly.
Alabi made all effort to restrain his tears as Ronke was being covered up alive, safe for her head which would enable her to be fed with the concoction.
The people of Owu had no more deaths, and Alabi married the princess, and had four kids who visited Ronke's grave to show their sympathy.
Most who would read this story would not believe that a poor young farmer could marry a rich girl, merely by physical attraction combined with his hard work and apparent success. There is a gap between how he became acceptable after the initial encounter that needs filling in.
Also most who would read this would find the superstitious practice of burying (and killing) a pregnant woman in menopause to release a curse to be diabolical and cruel.
Your story jumps to new conclusions without showing any real emotion (dialogue can show that) and therefore should be much longer and more detailed about how these gaps between revelations happen.
In this eccentric tale set in a small town in northern India, Pawan Mishra masterfully weaves ingenuity and sarcasm in a manner that’s simultaneously hilarious and tragic.
A teenage boy struggling with the coming-of-age issues of sexuality, religion, and peer approval is overwhelmed, but soldiers on. After several years, he comes to understand the family forces that have left him so deeply troubled, and the process of
A teenage boy struggling with the coming-of-age issues of sexuality, religion, and peer approval is overwhelmed, but soldiers on. After several years, he comes to understand the family forces that have left him so deeply troubled, and the process of
