Rolake stood at the spot trembling with fear, unable to go towards Awoye. Who knows, that obstinate Kunle might be laying ambush for her on the way? She prayed the person coming from the nearby bush should someone going to Awoye so they could walk together.
"Good morning, my daughter,’’ came from a short, dark elderly woman as she emerges fully from the bush.
The woman was carrying a big basketful of fire woods on her head, looking weary. She was wearing expensive but ragged clothes. A close looks on her face would convince anyone she wasn’t as old as she looked. She should be around 55. But stress or perhaps long time sorrow had caused the numerous wrinkles on her face. As she adjusted the load on her heads, sweats dripped down her face. The face showed signs of a long past beauty, even though wrinkles have taken over it. Rolake walked towards her briskly, knelt down and greeted her. She knew the woman wasn’t from Awoye because she knew almost all its inhabitants. All the same, she decided to assist her carry her load to her village.
"This is too heavy for such elderly woman,’’ Rolake said to herself, wondering how such old woman should be allowed to carry such heavy load. "Doesn’t she have children or grand children?’’
"That is very kind of you, my daughter,’’ the old woman said happily as Rolake out-stretched her hands to collect the load, dropping her school box on the ground unmindfully.
"It's nothing mama," Rolake's said, smiling, clinging unto the Lord on the woman's head. But the woman hesitated to leave the load for her to carry and said, "But this load would be too heavy for you to carry, I’m afraid.’’
"No mama," Rolake insisted, still holding unto the load, "I do carry the ones that are heavier than this from my father’s farm. Even the pot-full of water I always carry from my village’s long distance stream is heavier than this.’’
"Oh, that is very strong of you, my daughter.’’
Rolake helped her offload the load on her own head. The woman’s hands were shaking. The rolled piece of rag which supported the load fell down. The woman picked it up and put it on Rolake’s head and balanced the load on it. The woman helped her carry her school box, leading the way towards Damiro village while Rolake followed her. Damiro was not too far from the cross-roads, the three cross-roads that led to Awoye, Damiro and Bamibola.
As they were going in silence, many thoughts were running through the old woman’s mind. This little girl doesn’t know her from Adam, yet she decided to assist her to her village. She must have come from a very good and disciplined family.
Perhaps, what could make her be out of school by this time? She knows Rolake was not from Damiro. Which village is she going? She decided to break the silence between them to know more about her.
"Well done my daughter.’’
"Thank you, mama.’’
"Can you tell me your name.’’
"Rolake,’’ she said, "My name is Rolake, mama.’’
"Morolake, Isn’t it?’’
"Yes, mama, that is very correct.’’
"Sweet name! You are very kind girl too.’’
"I am grateful for the complements, mama.’’
"You’re welcome, which village are you from?’’
"Awoye. I’m from Awoye village mama.’’
"Oh, that is a great village,’’ the old woman said, rendering the ancestral praises of Awoye people thus: "Awoye, sons and daughters of the famous warrior, Awoola. Awoola didn’t fall back for battle for once in all his days on earth. Even without eating or drinking for twenty days, Awoola fought till his enemies ate the dusts…’’
"Thank very you, mama. I’m very grateful,’’ Rolake said, feeling so elated. She’d heard the ancestral praises from her father before. He loved it so much. She wondered how the old woman knew the praises when she wasn’t from Awoye.
"Don’t mention my daughter,’’ the old woman said, having thoughtful looks, "I know you might be wondering how I got know how to sing the ancestral praises of your village.’’
"You’re right, mama,’’ Rolake replied eagerly, "I’m really baffled. Can you please tell me?’’
"Morolake, you see, my husband, Adegboye, may he rest in the land of the spirits...’’ She pause as sorrow engulfed his heart suddenly, remembering her late husband. Her eyes looked sorrowful and Rolake knew she was unhappy over the memory of her later husband. She wanted to say something to console the woman.
"Oh, accept my condolence for the lost of your husband, mama.’’
"Oh, my good daughter,’’ the woman said, managing to look and sound cheerful. "Thanks so much he didn’t just die, it’s some years past now.’’
"Alright, mama.’’
"As I was saying," the old Woman said, clearing her throat and spitting the result on ground, "I got to know your ancestral praises from one young man who had worked as a labourer in my husband’s farm many years ago. He was an indigene of Awoye, a very vibrant and humble young man. You might know him if I call his name but I will tell you more about him later.’’
"That was wonderful, mama,’’ Rolake wanted the discussion to be cut short. She has started feeling some fatigue.
"May I asked also, why you are out of school by this time?’’
"Hmmm…’’ Rolake sighed like an adult. "My school fee isn’t paid yet. I was driving out of school.’’
"Chasing out of school, by your teachers?’’
"Yes, by my headmaster.’’
"May we triumph over all evil omens! "That is so pathetic! It’s dangerous for a girl like you to be on the road at these odd hours of the day. Snakes and other dangerous animals walk along this path by this time. How much is the money?’’
"It is Twenty Naira, mama.’’
"May we triumph over evil omens! That is not so much. Your parents supposed to have raised the money for you before it gets so late. Perhaps, you didn’t have informed them on time, did you?’’
"I did inform my father on time but his crops are bad this season. His farm harvests are very low...’’
"Your mother,’’ The old woman asked sympathetically, "Couldn’t she assist?’’
Rolake was keeping quite.
"Mothers are there to raise fathers up when they are down financially,’’ the woman continued, since Rolake didn’t reply. She thought she didn’t know what to say or tired from the load, hence her silence.
The old woman stopped talking when she noticed that Rolake’s sorrowful looks. The little girl was biting her index fingers, shaking her head beneath the load. The woman looked into her eyes and saw tears gushing out, dripping into her school uniform.
"May we triumph over all evil omens! Why are you crying, Morolake?’’
"She had died,’’ Rolake said, using the hand she wasn’t using her spare hand to wipe away her tears.’’ She died at my birth. I don’t even know her at all.’’
"Oh! Oh!’’ The old woman exclaimed, feeling like shedding tears too, "That is so pathetic. Please stop carrying. That is a lesson of life. It happens to make people stronger. Just like a gem which must pass through fire before it becomes a jewel, I pray the bad experience will make you successful in life.’’
"Amen. Thank you, ma.’’
The woman narrated her own life experiences, too. She had two daughters and a son. But the two daughters had died. Child-births complications had caused their deaths. Because they had married the men their father had disliked. Most of the villagers believed that their father’s anger had orchestrated the child-births issues which had killed them. But the actual facts were that their husbands were poor and couldn’t take them to hospital for modern ante-natal and post-natal care.
Not long after the death of the two ladies, their father also died mysteriously. Too much thinking of the death of his daughters had led to the heart disease that killed him. Consequently, the old woman’s husband’s family threw her out of her matrimonial home after her husband's death. They falsely accused her of witchcraft and the killing of her husband and her two daughters. Their hidden Motive was to inherit her husband large cocoa farm, since her son wasn’t matured enough to handle them yet.
In Ladele village, only the sons inherit their later father’s properties. But if the son hadn’t read a certain matured age, her mother or his father’s family members would take custody of the properties until he’s matured enough to handle them himself.
In other to further implicate and frustrate the old woman out of her matrimonial home, they had taken her to the shrine of Ogun, the vengeful god of iron, to swear. After she had sworn but no repercussion befell her, they claimed she had bribed the priest and still refused to allow her into her matrimonial home.
It was shameful thing in Ladele for a wife to be sent back to her father’s family or clan. So, with her son, she decided to relocate to Damiro, the place where nobody knew her.
The old woman and her son had lived in a decapitated hut, gifted to them by a Good Samaritan, after seeing them wandering about the village, having nowhere to lay their heads. She had trained her son in college and university with the proceedings from her selling of fire-woods.
Her son was now a doctor, living in the big city of Lagos. Now, she was living alone in her house which her only son had built for her some months back. Before building the house, his son had taken her to live in Lagos with him but his wife would maltreat her whenever her son wasn’t around. So, she decided to return to the village permanently, even without telling her son the reason. She didn’t want to cause a rift between his son and wife.
"I’m tired of the city bustling lifestyle. I prefer the village life because there is no much noise to bother my aging ears,’’ The old woman had lied to her son when he wouldn’t let her rest, pressuring her to tell him why she was leaving Lagos.
Meanwhile, each time her only son visited the village, he would bring for her a lot of Naira notes to buy anything she liked. Some of this money she had kept in her house, under the mattress of her wooden-framed bed. She promised to give Rolake some of this money to pay her school fees if they arrived home. She also advised Rolake not to maltreat her mother-in-law when she grew up and got one. Rolake accepted her advice with a shyly smile, though marriage sounded like a never-existed dream to her, because she was just a child.
The money the woman promised her was like an unbelievable dream to her, too. She couldn’t belief her ears. No one could see that old, wretched looking woman and thought she has a dime in her purse let alone having a rich son in Lagos. She remembered her father once told her she shouldn’t look down upon anyone.
When they got to Damiro village, the woman’s house was not near to the roadside. The village was silent like a grave yard because most of the villagers were on the farm. Damiro has fewer houses than Awoye. All but five of the houses there were built with mud walls and roofed with thatches. The Baale’s palace and the old woman’s house were among the five houses, roofed with zinc sheets.
The woman assisted Rolake to offload the load from her head. Rolake felt so relieved because she was tired from the long walk and the load. The woman bade Rolake sat down on a wooden chair and rushed in to get a cold glass cup of water.
After gulping the cold water down her dried throat, she handed the glass cup to the old woman. Wole has cautioned Rolake not to accept the offers of water or food from a stranger. And she had been following the guideline until this day. Though this old woman was a stranger, but she didn’t feel like she a stranger around her. She made her had the feelings children have around their mothers or grandmothers.
"Mama, thank you so much. My tongue has moistened, my thirst has gone.’’
"Oh my daughter, that is nothing. It’s said that water is very important, that it's the source of life. But it’s the cheapest and easiest thing we can get here.’’
"That is a big blessing from the Creator, mama,’’ Rolake thoughtfully, "And it keeps all souls alive.’’
"Amazing!’’ screamed the old woman. "This kind of words should be expected from an elderly person. Who thought you that? You’re so much clever, my daughter.’’
"It’s my teachers, mama.’’
"That is very good,’’ the old woman said, turning to go away, "Sit back and relax while I prepare a delicious pounded yam and Egusi and vegetable soup for you in the kitchen.’’
"Oh no, mama,’’ Rolake insisted, shaking her head, "I shall be going home now.’’
"Oh no, Morolake,’’ the old woman’s face squeezed for displeasure, her heart sank as Rolake announced her departure, "It won’t be alright for a very kind child like you to call at my house and go home with empty belly. You didn’t know me before, yet you helped me down here with my loads. You’re like a grandchild to me now.’’
"Mama, I would’ve love to stay longer and taste your delicious meal,’’ Rolake tried to convince the old woman, "But my father will be back home soon. He’s going to be sad for seeing me at home by this time, but if he meets some lunch that might be a little consolation for him.’’
"Well, I will take that as a genuine excuse. Our people say food is the best road to men’s heart. You father would feel so lucky to have a kind and clever child like you. I’m really amazed by your kind gestures.’’
"It is a pleasure, mama.’’
"It's time to surprise you, too. Wait for me a little while. Let me give you what I’ve I promised you on the way,’’ The old woman said, dashing into her room.
Rolake was silent, her heart beating fast out of anxiety. She couldn’t belief her ears. Her school fees would be paid by a stranger, just like that?
"Have this my daughter,’’ The old woman said as she came out of her hut, holding a knotted handkerchief. She handed the knotted handkerchief to Rolake. "It contained the money for your school fees and other petty things you may need.’’
"Oh! I’m so grateful to you, mama!’’ Rolake exclaimed.
"Don't be, you deserve it," said the woman, smiling.
Rolake was overwhelmed with joy. She pinched herself to check if she wasn’t dreaming. No, she wasn’t! Not sure of the sutable thing to do next, she knelt down in front of the old woman. The appreciative looks in her eyes has said so much. "I am very grateful. I don’t know what to say, mama.’’