C7 DESTINY WAITS - III

E Y A R E

The next few days saw me acting coldly towards mother. I would eat alone in my room, not wanting to talk to anyone and she as well as the servants, gave me a wide berth.

One evening while I was replying emails on my laptop, a knock sounded at my door. I ignored it and continued typing. The knocking started again and I jumped up, upset that my quiet time was being invaded. I yanked the door open and came face to face with two maids. They both held trays of food in their hands. While I was still watching with bulging eyes, mother came in, not meeting my eyes. She gave them orders to put the trays down on the table --- the same one I was using for my work.

I watched as they put the trays of food at the edge and backed away from me. Mother dismissed them and they quickly made their exit, closing the door behind them. I said nothing, but went back to my email, watching from the corner of my eyes as mother began removing the dishes of food from the trays and setting them on the table.

I busied myself, keeping an eye on my work.

"Ahemmm!" She cleared her throat, and I looked up. "Time to eat." She pointed to the table, where two empty plates sat on place mats. I guessed the second plate was for her. She opened the two dishes and the heavenly smell hit my nostrils, making them twitch involuntarily. I discarded my laptop and sat on the stool in front of one of the empty plates, while mother took her place on the other stool in front of the other empty plate. As she dished jollof rice into my plate, I braved a glance at her. She stopped when she knew it was enough for me. The other dish held chunky - sized chicken and assorted meat. She picked out two choice looking pieces of meat and placed them on my plate. At that time, I needed no further nudge. I dug in, relishing the sweet spicy taste.

I suddenly noticed she wasn't eating, instead, she was picking listlessly at her food. Her mind seemed to be far away.

It was killing me that we weren't on talking terms. I was never one to keep a grudge, and most definitely not with my mother. A twinge of guilt spiked through me, and I struggled to swallow the morsel of food that made it's way down my throat, when it got stuck. I spluttered and started coughing. Mother was already on her feet and at my side with a glass of water, coaxing it down my lips.

"Thanks, ma!" I said, looking up gratefully at her. She just nodded and went back to her sit. I sighed, picked up my cutlery once more and opened my mouth to eat, then closed it. The spoon fell from my hand and clattered unto the plate making mother jump in shock. I looked at her, regret and sorrow lacing my eyes. "I'm sorry ma. I really am. I just don't like pressure and you've been laying it on thick these past few months, but most especially since I came."

She looked at me and smiled, then slowly put down her own cutlery. "I remember when you were taking your final year exams in secondary school, you were so tense. Your father and I got a call from the principal."

I grimaced, remembering that day clearly. I had read all night and when the morning came, I was confident that I could answer any question given me. Later in class, I had taken one look at the questions laid in front of me and frozen. I became stock still.

I just couldn't remember anything anymore. There was a tightness in my chest, I was literally having a silent breakdown. By the time the teacher looked up from her desk, I was already stumbling out of the class, a lost look on my face.

"And when we got to your school," mother continued. "We saw you in the principal's office, your head in your hands."

Thinking back to that day, mother had sat down beside me and quietly asked if I was okay. "You said the exam had put too much pressure on you, so I talked with you, reassuring you that you were ready for your exams. You calmed down and went back into the exam hall and aced all your papers. You've always been an intelligent boy, my son." She finished, looking at me with a mixture of love and pride.

We smiled at each other for a bit, then clearing her throat, she continued. "Now I promise, I won't talk about it again. If it's not what you want, no problem. But I beg you, stay for the two festivals coming up next week."

"We still engage in festivals?" I asked incredulously.

"Yes, of course we do, son, that's the foundation of this town, if we loose that, we lose the unity amongst the people."

"It's okay mum, whatever you say, I just don't want us to quarrel anymore." I replied, smiling at her as I got up to hug her.

We talked awhile after breakfast and I retired to my father's study thereafter. It smelt distinctly of tobacco, a smell I hadn't taken notice of the day before. Books were splayed on burnished wooden shelves which lined every wall of the study. Dad was an avaricious reader. He would stock his library with poetry and history books to read while he smoked on a pipe. He had written a series of poems and had won awards for his literary skills while in the university. His trophies sat, resplendent, on the two top highest shelves.

I wondered, not for the first time how I was going to top his achievements. I mentally shook myself. It was a silly thing to think. I didn't have to top his achievements, I just needed to make him proud.

Question is, will not ascending the throne make him proud of me?

I sighed. I looked at the glass in my hand and noticed I had drained it to the last drop.

I was drinking more and more Alcohol, and that scared me. I didn't want to be one of those men who resorted to the bottle when under pressure. I dropped into the chair and swiveled around. I put my feet up on the wide mahogany table and my eyes glanced at the decanter on it, remembering my anger some days before. Even after father's death, it was still being refilled. I sniffed at it then poured it into my glass to take a sip, this time taking things slowly.

I grimaced. Oh what the heck, I slugged it down my throat in one fell swoop.

Like father, like son, ehn, I thought.

Why did my father change his drink to Tequila? I pondered on this after awhile. He normally drank wine or the local brew -- schnapps.

What made him switch?

I pondered on it, because when a man switched his drink to something stronger, it was usually to quieten his demons. I closed my eyes picturing him on this seat, attending to the matters of the town.

What could worry a man in position of power, like my father?

A light bulb went off in my head --- The throne of course!

Was someone trying to wrestle it from him?

I drank some more tequila, grimacing as the bitter liquid coursed a fiery path down my throat. My eyes fell on a parchment that was stuck in between the drawers. I pulled it out but part of the edge got torn in the process. It was a picture of my dad and some chiefs. One of them looked familiar. I pocketed it for a later perusal.

Someone knocked on the door just then.

"Come in, the door is open." I said, stifling a yawn. This drink was making me sleepy quickly.

Rose, one of the maids peeked her head in through the door. "Sir! Your mum has need of your presence in the main sitting room."

She curtsied and ducked out, not waiting for my response.

Just great.

When I was about to put my head on the table to take a snooze. I got up and became immediately light headed.

Whoa!

I held on to the edge of the desk, and gingerly made my way to the door. I got to the main sitting room and saw my mum talking with a man. They were making light conversation when I got in. Conversation seized the minute they set eyes on me.

The man sprang up and knelt down on one knee, his two arms were together in front of him, in a form of salute. I frowned and looked at mum. She just shrugged.

"Greetings, your Lordship." He said, with his head down.

I looked at mum again. She sighed. "Tell him to stand up or else he won't." She looked at me with pleading eyes.

"Ahem!" I said clearing my throat. "Please stand up, sir."

He stood up and remained standing while I sat by mother. I looked up at him with eye brows raised enquiringly. Guess I needed to tell him to take a seat also.

"Please, sit down, sir." I said, waving him to a seat. This whole get up, seat down was getting quite tiresome, and meddlesome too.

"My son, he is the palace's tailor. He's here to take your measurement for the upcoming festivals." Mother looked at me imploringly. That look told me to behave and not put up a scene in front of the man.

"But. mum, I don't understand, I packed some native wear. I can always choose one to wear from them."

"Unfortunately, you can't. You're the King's son, and the h ---“ She paused, but continued. "Well, it's important for you to show up looking the part of the King's son. He has brought some materials for you to choose from, after which he will take your measurements," she finished.

I knew she was going to say heir, but didn't want to rock the boat with me. "Very well then," and I inclined my head towards the tailor. "Let me see them."

I chose one of the materials from the array he brought. All of them were overboard with their intricate styles, so I made sure to choose the material with a more modest style. He took my measurement and left. I turned to mum, eyebrows raised in question.

"Mother, what was that all about?"

"What was what all about, my son?" She counter - asked me.

I sighed in exasperation. "Mother, the tailor greeted me the same way people used to greet dad, why?"

"Do I need to tell you when you already know the answer to that?" She replied.

I nodded, but said nothing. The familiar tightness in my chest was coming back but I shoved the feeling away. The days flew by and the festival day finally came. Mother got up early in the morning and woke me up. She said we had to be at the town square by 2 'oclock in the afternoon. The festival was to kick off two hours later.

Dressed later in all my finery, I looked at myself in the mirror.

I was bare chested, save for the heavy beads round my neck. I smiled to myself as I noticed my bare chest on display.

The heavy George material was wound tightly round my waist and bunched up at the side. The intricate designs on the wrapper shown golden in contrast against the deep red colour of the wrapper. Each of my wrists held two heavy beads. On my feet, were brown leather slippers.

I was ready.

We got into the Jeep --- the one with the insignia on it, showing my father's office as the king. The town's flag hung from the bonnet of the car. As we moved, sirens blared from behind us. I turned round, and sure enough there were two police vans with armed police men, their guns jutting out from the windows. "Ma, why all this show?" I turned to her. My ire had begun to rise.

Mother sighed heavily, like the weight of the world was on her shoulders. "Son, it's customary, let's not get into an argument about this. It's also for our safety. Your father had . . . enemies, so we have to be careful."

"Political enemies?" I asked inquiringly.

"There's a lot you don't know about, my son," she patted my knee.

"But why didn't you tell me about this?" I continued, already getting flustered.

"I wasn't sure exactly. Your father did mention there were people that wanted to dethrone him. He was about to get to the bottom of it when death snatched him from us." Her voice broke and tears flooded her eyes.

"Come here, ma." I held her. "Only fond memories of pa, okay, only fond memories. Today we celebrate. No tears, alright?" I held her face between my hands. "Promise me, ma!"

She nodded, sniffling a bit. I kept holding her until we got to the town square.

It had been ages since I saw the town square. I left this town almost fifteen years ago and what a development. Last I remember it, there was just a small patch of land that constituted as the town square. What I saw before my eyes now, was an expense of land as far as my eyes could see. A make shift throne had been set up in the middle of it and a long red carpet led from the foot of it, to the end as far as the eyes could see. A smaller throne was put beside the throne. A large canopy was set above the make shift throne to shield whoever sat on it from the sun's rays. Judging from the elaborate decoration on it, that person must be preety special, I thought to myself.

Canopies were situated around the throne, beautifully adorned with bright flowers and garlands. Chairs sat under the canopies for visitors to sit.

"So who's going to sit on the throne?" I turned to face mother.

"You, of course, son. You take your father's place today and my place is right beside you on the smaller one." She finished, pointing to the smaller makeshift throne.

I sighed resignedly. Might as well get it over with. I strode purposefully towards it with mother in tow. Once I sat down on the makeshift throne, I felt pretty stupid. I turned to look at my mother and it seemed I was seeing her for the first time. She looked very regal beside me with the royal beads around her neck and wrists. She wore the same design of wrapper tied around her chest. On her head were beads woven into it to give the impression of a crown. She was smiling, her face shown with happiness.

Well that's a relief. I squeezed her hand and she squeezed back.

Soon enough, the high chiefs began filing in, dressed in all their finery. As they got in front of me, they knelt down on one knee with their two hands in front of them and their heads bowed. Exactly the same way the tailor had greeted me earlier on. Then it hit me. It was the same way they used to greet father.

My eyes visibly widened with this realisation.

I was still lost in thought, still pondering on this, when mother pinched me.

"Um . . . please get up, sirs." I said, standing up, but mother put a hand on my lap and I sank back into my seat.

They got up and made their way to sit on the chairs around and my head began to spin at the realisation I came to.

Mother took one pitying look at me and sighed. "You must have figured it out by now, my son. I'd advice you to get used to it while you're here."

I said nothing in reply to that, just stared straight ahead, deep in thought.

Yes mother, I know. They think I'm going to take dad's place as the next king.

My jaw clenched in anger.

I couldn't leave the life I knew in the city to move to this township which, by the looks of things, was fast growing.

On the way to the town square, I had noticed several factories. We passed many cars on the way here. The faces I saw on the road looked happy and there was not a beggar in sight. I felt some feeling of pride at this.

You did it dad, you really grew this place. You took it from the bushy, underdeveloped village it was to what it is now.

By the time I became aware of my surroundings, people had already begun filing into the square and taking their seats. Drummers were setting up in one corner while the microphones and speakers were doing same at the other end.

The high chiefs and my mum gathered in a corner discussing only God knew what. I felt very conspicuous on the raised throne I was sitting. Some people had already began taking pictures of me with their phones. I willed myself to be patient on seeing this.

Not long after, mother came back and sat down beside me. "Ma!" I whispered. "Where have you been?!"

"Sorting things out, my son. The festival will start now."

"So, what is this festival about again?"

"We are actually celebrating two festivals here this evening. The festival of maturity and festival of yams." She finished.

I groaned inwardly. Looks like we'd be here for some time. She looked at me, noticing the slight frown on my face. Patting my knee, she said, "You're going to enjoy it, son. I guarantee it."

One of the high chiefs stood up to make a speech and boy did it drag on, something about oneness and unity and branches. Heck, the man was a drone. I lost concentration when he started talking about industrialization. I breathed in deeply. Hmm! No carbon smell or smoke in the air, unlike the city. I sniffed again, noticing the clean earthy smell. I looked around noticing the town square had filled up pretty nicely. The high chief finished talking and went back to his sit. Finally, I thought, whew! Then suddenly a man got up, and taking the microphone, he began singing and then stopped. That was when I heard the drums going.

The music was soulful and stirring. It was lilting, beautiful music. I felt my spirits soar just listening to it. I made a note to get some local tracks from the town before leaving for the city.

As he sang, people got up to dance, freely expressing themselves without fear or favour. Cheers went up all around as masquerades with brightly colored masks and clothing came out, jumping and somersaulting in the air as they moved in tandem to the beat. They were so lithe, they seemed to defy gravity with their leaps. They formed a circle and some young boys came out and started climbing the bodies of the masquerades. They climbed to the top and stayed there, their arms outstretched, their legs on the heads of the masquerades.

My mouth dropped open.

As if that wasn't enough, the young boys held the hands of the masquerades and lifted their feet into the air. There, they stayed suspended for awhile, while the masquerades danced.

I gasped, fearing for their lives.

What if they fell?

Mother chuckled beside me. "This is what they do for a living, my son, you were too young to remember this. Your father used to bring you here for festivals all the time."

Next, came female dancers with long red wrappers tied round their chests and large beads round their necks and ankles. They held beaded gourds in their hands and as they sang, they beat them to the rhythm of the drums. Their dance was more sedate than the masquerades. They moved and danced at a more gentle pace.

I must say, I was enjoying myself thoroughly. Palm wine was brought to us and we drank while events unfolded.

After the dance, one of the high chiefs got up to make another speech.

Keep it short mister. I muttered under my breath.

"And now, what we have all been waiting for. The festival of maturity. We will call on the young maidens who will compete amongst themselves to dance. Those who dance well will be seen as mature and of age to vote and take part in the upcoming ceremony of the crowning of the new King."

I frowned. Here we go with this king stuff again. I became tense but I wasn't going to allow his little speech to stop me from enjoying the activities here.

So I chinned up.

Out came the young maidens with small wrappers round their chests and another tied round their waists. Beads adorned their wrists and ankles and they jiggled as they stomped their feet. They ranged from ram rod thin, to curvy and fat. Their chests puffed out as their arms moved and cut the air rapidly, then slowly, with the change in the beat of the drum. The beat of the drums were sorrowful and haunting, yet melodious. It tugged at the strings of my heart.

The beat soulfully, weaving a story in line with the maidens dance steps and they acted out a scene with their hips, twisting them left and right, their bodies moving fluidly to the beat, their feet disturbing the white sand beneath their feet. I was spell bound. I couldn't look away even if I wanted to. It was extremely exciting to watch. I hadn't even realized when it became dark. It seemed even the glow insects were out to watch the events of the night.

I noticed oil lamps had been put in strategic places of the square, casting eerie shadows on the faces of the dancers. There was silence everywhere and as I looked round, all eyes were on the dancers and an expression of awe and wonder clouded their faces. I was sure this same expression was on mine, too.

Suddenly their dancing stopped, with all the young maidens kneeling in front of me, their chests heaving from the exhausting dance. I didn't know when I got up and started clapping. Every other person got up and started shouting and cheering.

The young maidens got up with smiles on their faces. They curtsied and left the town square. Next, came young boys wearing loin clothes round their waists. Their bodies were oiled and they shone as they came forward, flexed what little muscles they had and trying to cower the other with this move.

They filed out and paired up, one in front of each other and the drums started again, but this time, it beat a tune of warning, of impending things to come. They circled each other and suddenly locked arms, grunting as they tried to outdo each other. There was a stare off between the two pairs of boys. I didn't understand the game they were playing. Suddenly, one of the boys grabbed the neck of the other, and hefted him unto his back. A loud cheer rose from the crowd.

At the stage, the crowd had completely left the canopies and moved closer to watch the mock - fight.

I got it now.

Whoever got the other one on his back, was the winner and would be accepted as a mature young man. I smiled. I was liking this more and more. After all the young boys had bested their opponents, they bowed and left the town square as the drumming petered off. The beat of the drums started again and this time, it was more upbeat. The high chiefs stood up to dance and with their walking sticks raised occasionally in the air, one leg up and then down again, their hands cutting the air in a rhythmic movement.

It was beautiful symmetry at best. I felt my spirits lift and soar as I watched their display. Mother stood up. She looked at me, as if to ask for permission, so I smiled and inclined my head. There was no more hesitation as she sauntered off.

She danced amongst the high chiefs, winding her waist to the beat as she smiled. I didn't know she was such a good dancer. She was thoroughly enjoying herself and I was happy to see it.

Mother danced towards me, holding out her hands.

Oh no! I shook my head. No way was I going out there. I would only make a fool of myself, but she was not having any of it.

Everyone stood up and began cheering for me to get up.

Eventually, I caved.

If I embarrassed myself, it would be all on mother.

I stood up, my steps jerky at first. Mother still held on to me, so I closed my eyes and tried to remember how father used to dance when I was just a child.

He would dance amongst the masquerades, holding his walking stick in his hand, lifting it up and bringing it down and when it came down, his leg would go up and come down, and so a rhythm was formed. I let go of mother's hands and as I did so, I imagined I was holding a walking stick. With my eyes closed, I continued dancing, eventually falling into a rhythm. The drumming picked up pace and I also followed in kind, my body jerking and jumping with each cut of the beat, until it reached a crescendo and then suddenly stopped. There was silence.

I opened my eyes, my hands still in mid air, annoyed that my fun had been spoilt. Just when I was really beginning to enjoy myself.

I looked around, noticing the surprised looks on the faces of people. They all gazed at something behind them. I followed their gaze and my eyes rested on a shadow in the middle of the square not far from me. It was bent, with a walking stick. Then I heard the whispers. "It's the wise one, she hasn't come out in five years."

Her face was in shadow but she raised a gnarled looking hand and pointed it directly at me.

I turned round to see who she was pointing at, but there was no one behind me. Mother was stood afar from me. Seemed I had danced a distance away from her.

With a croaky voice that sounded like it had smoked a lot of cigarettes, she said. "Heir to the throne of Osazuwa, you can not run away from your destiny, you will be our next king and you will make this town great, but. . ." She paused. "You will face many challenges and this will bring trouble for you. It has already begun."

And with that last parting shot, she hobbled away into the darkness. A sliver of fear sliced through me, it felt like cold water had been poured over me. I became rooted to the spot.

Mother came to me. "My son, let us go back to our seats."

I vaguely heard one of the high chiefs shout. "The festival continues."

But how could I continue after that ominous declaration from who knows who. The celebration continued and the crowd went wild, moving to the middle of the floor to dance. Money was sprayed on people and loud cheers were heard.

The enjoyment was over for me.

The wise one or whatever her name was, had spoilt it.

I needed to ask mother questions, but as soon as we got to our seats, the high chiefs called her attention and she got up to talk to them, leaving me with my confused thoughts. The festival of yams was already in full swing as women pounded yam in mortars with their long pestles at a corner. It was also a competition to see who pounded the smoothest yam. Their hands strained as they brought the pestle up and down in the mortar. It is said that the pounded yam is made sweeter by the sweat that drops into the mortar of the yam by the woman pounding it.

I didn't want to wait to find that out.

Luckily mother came back not long after and I told her I wasn't feeling well. She understood and we left with the high chiefs behind us. On the ride home, I closed my eyes, replaying the message of the wise woman. I would ask my mother about it the next day. For now, I wanted to be left alone with my thoughts.

When we got home, I took a long hot shower and dropped into bed, tired to the bone. I smiled, remembering the way I had danced.

Just before drifting off to sleep, I bid father good night, knowing he would be smiling down at me.