Visions

Ife, Northwest Africa

The cool air kissed her skin as she sat and drank a cup of water. Her father watched her closely. Her friends watched her too. Samba rubbed her shoulder, “Are you all right, sister?” he asked in Portuguese.

She nodded. Going into another realm took a lot of energy, and she still was not proficient at using her gifts.

Her mother approached, “How do you feel?” she asked with wide eyes.

“I am well. I just needed some air.” She looked up. Her uncle and his wife stood by the door, glaring at her. She looked away.

Joaquin turned to his wife, “I have never interfered with things that you and Yande believe, but I don’t like this. I don’t want her to get hurt.”

Aminata sighed. It wasn’t her first time listening to him express his concerns. “She is fine. Nothing happened.”

“Today, nothing happened. She can’t do these things.”

“And she can’t stop being what she is. Nor can your son or me.”

He huffed, “Your situation and Samba’s situation are different. These things that exist in Yande, you said you don’t even understand it.”

“Let’s not argue,” said Yande sweetly.

“We aren’t arguing. We are having a passionate discussion,” said her mother smartly.

“My friend, why don’t you and I go for a walk? There is a good spot nearby that has the best drinks,” Kalu mentioned with a smile.

Aminata watched them walk off. Adefolake sighed, “Perhaps we could consult with a Babalawo while we are here.”

Aminata nodded, “We can. But first, I need to speak with Yande alone.”

Yande went with her mother. They walked until they were out of hearing range of everyone. “What happened?” her mother asked.

Her face glowed, “I saw great-grandmother; she was talking to grandfather.”

“Is he?”

“No, but if I don’t help him soon...he will pass over.” She looked over her mother’s shoulder and saw her uncle still eyeing her, “How much do you trust Uncle Enofe?”

She shrugged, “I have been away many years. Enofe and I don’t have a close relationship. We hardly ever had one. He’s always been an angry person. He feels like the world owes him something.”

“Grandfather wants me to try again. When no one is around, I will do it tonight after everyone falls asleep.”

“I want to be there.”

Yande shook her head, “I have to do it alone.”

“What if you pass out again?”

“Trust me. I can do it.”

Her mother touched her face. Suddenly, a cloud formed in front of her that only she could see. It was her mother holding a baby boy.

Adefolake had just walked up to see if everything was okay. She saw how Yande stared.

The women recognized that pause. They had experienced it many times before. “What is it, Yande?” her mother asked.

Yande smiled, “I don’t know exactly. But I saw you holding a baby boy.”

Adefolake smiled, “Congratulations,” she said happily.

Aminata shook her head. “She didn’t say whose baby it was.”

Yande made a face, “Well, I’ve never been with a man, but you and Father are constantly all over each other. I’ve heard you many times.”

Adefolake chuckled. Aminata kissed her teeth, “Go over there with your brother and the other children and play or something.”

Yande sighed as she walked away. Aminata kissed her teeth once more. She saw Yande standing with the other children. She and Adefolake walked toward the house. “Are you pregnant?” Adefolake asked eagerly. She smiled from ear to ear.

“I don’t think that I am. I have not seen this. Each time I was pregnant with Yande and Samba, I knew almost immediately. Why would the Gods withhold this vision from me and show it to my daughter?”

She shrugged, “That is a good question. But you know when we don’t spend as much time using our gifts...they tend to hide from us. I wouldn’t worry,” she said as she held her hand, “I’m sure if you are pregnant, Joaquin will be overjoyed. He loves being a father.”

She smiled, “He does.”

*****

Their walk took them to an old hang-out spot of Kalu’s. The food was good, and the drinks were even better. Kalu stepped through the door first. His eyes caught the eyes of the woman who owned the establishment. Her skin was the color of bronze, and her head was covered in a bright red and black head wrap. “Kalu, welcome,” she said to him in Yoruba.

The place got quiet as the patrons looked at Joaquin and his friends. They stood out in a room full of brown faces. Some of the people murmured. And at one table, a group of shady-looking fellows scowled at them.

Kalu hugged her, “Ayo, it’s so nice to see you again; how is your husband?” he asked.

She kissed her teeth, “Ah, you know him. He’s doing this thing and that thing for the King. I haven’t seen him in days. Since Mobo has been sick, that son of his has done nothing to address the men causing chaos in the village. People are ready to take it to the King.”

Kalu nodded.

“But, I’m sure you didn’t come to hear about my sad marriage. Or about the scoundrels here. You came to drink. I see you brought friends.”

“Yes, yes, this is Joaquin and his men. They are from—”

“Portugal,” she said with a smile, “Olá e bem-vindo.”

They were impressed, “You speak our language,” Joaquin replied happily.

“Yes. My husband frequently does business with men from Portugal for the King of Ife. Sometimes they come to our house. I have picked up a little bit of the language. Just enough to be dangerous, she joked, “Come, sit. I’ll bring you all some drinks and some of my famous soup.”

Joaquin smiled, “I like her. She’s friendly.” He looked around the room and realized that not everyone was as friendly as her. The men at the table across the room continued to eye him and his men. _Perhaps those are some of the scoundrels she mentioned, _he thought as he looked away from their hateful glares.

The drinks arrived. Joaquin attempted to pay. He pulled out a sack that had gold coins. Ayo shook her head, “Your money is no good here. You are my guests for today.”

He placed his coins back into his trousers. He tasted the soup; his heart smiled, “Ummm, I love this. I miss the food here. I’m hoping to bring back a few things with us to Portugal.”

“I can help you with that, my friend. We can go to the market before you leave.”

As they ate and chatted, the men from across the room grew bolder and decided to act on their aggression. They walked over to the table where Kalu, Joaquin, and the other three men sat. The one with the face of a grizzly bear barked, “Why do you bring strangers to our village?” he asked Kalu menacingly.

Kalu threw down his napkin and stood, “These men are not strangers. They are my friends.”

He shoved Kalu. His shoulder went back, “You are trying to provoke me, and by the strength of my ancestors, I am trying to spare you the worst beating of your life.”

Joaquin stood, “Gentlemen, there’s no need. We will take our leave. All will be well.”

“Shut up, place-faced fool,” he sneered and spat on Joaquin.

He wiped his face with a napkin; it fell on the man’s foot. He looked down and then into Joaquin’s eyes. Swiftly, Joaquin slammed his head to the man’s head. The man screamed in pain. Utter chaos ensued as men brawled like wild beasts.

Ayo appeared with several of her men. They each had a sword that looked like a machete. Joaquin held the man in a headlock. Ayo pointed the blade at his scrambled face, “Let him go,” she commanded Joaquin.

Joaquin slowly released the man. He held his hands up. The man adjusted his clothes. His men stood by him. She eyed them, “If you ever return to my place again, I will chop off your sack and feed it to the dogs.”

He gulped. Slowly, he and his flunkies left.

Ayo’s men went back to their duties. She sighed, “I am so sorry. Those idiots are becoming bolder.”

“How do you mean?” asked Kalu.

“He and several others belong to a group. I don’t know who the leader is, but they have terrorized people throughout the town. Robbing families, taking the innocence of young girls, and some say they have killed.”

“That’s awful,” said Joaquin. He looked around at the mess that was made, “We’d love to help you clean.”

She chuckled, “Nonsense. I have people to take care of that.”

“Then you must allow me to gift you this,” he said as he pulled out a silk scarf. He opened it and showed her the precious stones. I received these when I visited Morocco. It’s a beautiful place.”

“Thank you.”

“You are most welcome. Thank you for your hospitality. If you ever find yourself in Portugal, please visit my wife and me.”

“How will I find you?”

“That should not be too hard. Just as for the King’s favorite nephew.”

*****

There was a lot of laughter as Yande and Samba got to know their cousins from their aunt Zauna. Two boys and a girl. They were far more friendly than her other cousins from their uncle Enofe who stood off to the side talking with some of the other kids from the village.

Oluwa kicked the ball to Samba, “What’s wrong with your other cousins,” he asked.

Yande shrugged, “I don’t think they like us.”

“They don’t like themselves, “ joked Sani, the oldest of Zauna’s sons. “they are angry people like their mother. She’s always yelling about something. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her smile.”

“That’s awful,” responded Yande.

They continued to kick the ball to each other. Her cousin Chidi smiled when Oluwa kicked the ball at her. Chidi was two years younger than Yande and Oluwa. Her skin was crisp brown. Her hair was braided into two cornrows.

She kicked the ball hard back in his direction. It flew to the group of kids that were not being friendly. Her big brown eyes widened, “Sorry,” she said sweetly.

Samba looked over to his cousin holding the ball. He was a big boy. It looked like he hadn’t missed any meals. “I’ll go get the ball,” he said bravely, “I’ll invite them to play.”

Sani immediately shook his head, “I doubt he will say yes. But you can ask.”

Samba’s feet started. Yande started too. He looked at her, “What are you doing?” he asked her.

“I’m coming with you.”

“Stop being so overprotective. I’m your brother. I am almost a man.”

Almost a man, you barely have a whisker on your chin, she thought. She sighed and stayed where she was. Samba continued until he stood in front of his second oldest cousin Mahammadu. He had the ball under his right foot. “Hello cousin,” he said smiling, “we were wondering if you all wanted to come play ball with us?”

Mahammadu kissed his teeth, “Kalli wannan kyakkyawan yaron,” he said in Hausa, a language unfamiliar to Samba. He barely had the hang of learning Yoruba. Mahammadu let out a booming laugh which provoked the other boys to laugh.

Samba knew from their mocking laugh that his invitation wasn’t well received. He looked back to his sister, who was standing next to Oluwa. Yande motioned with her head for him to come back to them.

“Give me back my ball,” said Samba in Yoruba.

“Kwallo na ne. yanzu tafi. ka zagi dan iska,” Mahammadu replied in Hausa.

Samba didn’t understand what was said. He knew he wasn’t getting the ball back. As he walked off, he heard them laughing. He walked over to where his sister stood with the group. Yande looked at the group of boys and then back at Samba, “Are you all right, brother?”

“Yes, Yande. Please do nothing.”

She made a face. Yande was overprotective of her brother. She was only two years his senior, but she often took on a mothering role to her little brother. It was hard for her not to go to that group of boys and give them the business. Her neck was hot. They saw her skin nearly glowing red.

“Yande, your skin,” said Oluwa with concern.

“I’m fine,” she said as she took several breaths to calm down, “what did he say?”

Samba shrugged, “It was a language I don’t speak. He didn’t speak in Yoruba.”

Sani snapped his fingers, “Ah, yes. Their mother is Hausa. It’s another tribe.”

“I know some Hausa. What did he say?” asked Sani.

“Kwallo na ne. yanzu tafi. Ka zagi dan iska,” he stammered as he recalled the words.

Sani’s eyes widened, “Wow.”

They waited impatiently for him to reveal what it meant. Sani sighed. He rubbed the top of his tiny coiled hair, “Now, I am only repeating what was said.

“Just say it, Sani,” insisted Samba.

“Mahammdu said that the ball was his and that you two are cursed bastards.”

Just as she had gotten herself to calm down, she felt her anger rise from the pit of her belly. Her green eyes began to change. “Are you sure you want me to do nothing?” she asked Samba.

“I don’t know. They were just words. We know that we are not cursed. And we certainly are not bastards.”

She smiled and touched his face, “You’re right. We are not cursed. They are. I mean, look at them. He looks like someone ran a plow over his face. And his teeth are as yellow as the sun.”

They erupted into laughter. Soon the boys realized they had not succeeded in terminating Yande and Samba's good time. They walked over with Mahammadu leading the way. “What are you saying,” he asked in Yoruba to Samba.

“I didn’t say anything.”

Mahammadu felt proud that he exerted his dominance. His father taught him to be the one in charge. They descended from a tribe of leaders. His grandfather was the leader of their village. And since the sudden illness of his grandfather, his dad Enofe had taken the lead in their village.

Just as he was about to walk away, Yande spoke, “My brother didn’t say anything. He only repeated what you said to him.”

Mahammadu’s lips parted; his bright yellow teeth shined, “Too bad you don’t speak Hausa. You barely speak Yoruba,” he joked. His brothers and friends chuckled.

“Kai jaki ne haka ma mahaifiyarka,” she said boldly in Hausa, which meant, "You are an ass and so is your mother."

His jaw dropped.

Sani smiled, “You know Hausa.”

“Shut up, Sani,” Mahammadu commanded.

“Little girl, do you know who I am and what I will do to you and your pretty brother.”

Yande smirked. Oluwa stepped closer. “And who are you...her lover. What will you do?”

“He won’t have to do anything. I can beat you without the help of any man. You are a tired little boy who finds power in controlling others whom you think you can beat.”

“You think you can beat me?”

Samba and Oluwa grabbed Yande, “Yande, we are not going to let you fight your cousin.”

“Why? Is it because I am a girl?”

They both looked at each other and then at her, “It’s not that. It’s...well...”

“Oluwa, leave Yande alone. I think she can beat him; her mother was a warrior, as was ours. I think Yande has learned from the best,” said his sister Sade.

Mahammadu was gearing up his friends. They gave him a staff. He beat on his meaty chest; his man tits wobbled, “If you want to challenge Mahammadu, I will teach you a lesson you won’t soon forget, girl. To stay in your place.”

Yande smiled. She turned to her cousin, “Do you have a staff I can borrow?” she asked.

He nodded before running off. He returned and tossed her the staff. She caught it in her right hand and twirled it around. A battle. She smiled. She often practiced with her cousins at the castle in Portugal.

“Hey, cousin, no hard feelings after I beat you senseless.”

“No hard feelings,” she repeated as she swiftly delivered the first blow striking his left rib cage. He grunted in pain.

“That’s how you want to play. Let’s play, little girl.” He swung many times; she avoided his strikes. She was agile and swift.

Poor Mahammadu was winded from chasing her around. Every strike he attempted resulted in him using more energy than he had. Sweat poured from his forehead and down the sides of his face, “Stop running and fight!” he demanded.

By that time, a crowd appeared. Yande gave him what he wanted. Their staffs met as they blocked each other’s blows. She saw an opening. The end of the staff struck his belly. He gasped. With another strike to his chest, he fell to the ground.

He fought to breathe. His eyes welled with tears as he held his chest. They heard the voices of angry matriarchs as the crowd dispersed, “Yande!” her mother exclaimed, “What are you doing?”

Mahammadu’s mother eyed Yande in disgust, “What are you doing near my son?” she asked angrily.

Aminata stepped up, “I will question my daughter. You see to your son.”

“Keep your children away from mine,” she sneered as she turned and kneeled next to her son.

Aminata grabbed Yande’s hand and dragged her away from the crowd, “What is the meaning of this?”

She opened her mouth; her mother tossed up her hand, “We came here to fix things with our family, not make things worse. What were you thinking?”

She opened her mouth, and her mother threw up her hand, “Wait until your father hears about this.”

As soon as she uttered those words, her husband walked up with Kalu and his crew members. She saw the bruises on his face and his scraped knuckles, “In the name of your God and my Gods, what happened?”

He sighed, “I can explain.”