DESTINY WAITS II

Chapter 5

We will meet eventually - Destiny beckons.

E Y A R E

They say marriage gets easier as the days progress, but I've got to tell you, my case is different.

Osagiede got on my nerves over the next few days, so much that I decided to take my mum up on her words, not to ascend the throne --- definitely not. More like travel to my home town instead and make a holiday out of it.

After booking a flight to Benin, I began tidying up things at the office.

Not having anyone to take over the reigns was definitely going to put a strain on my business, but I was able to leave the few things left in the capable hands of my secretary.

The flight home was peaceful, save for the intermittent dismal weather reports on the tiny Tv in front of me, so I switched it off.

Once in Benin, I collected my small luggage, passed through customs and the usual airport issues and made my way outside.

There the family driver stood, a bit more grey around the beards, but still the same jovial man I remembered him to be.

"Small oga, hope sey plane no do gizz gizz for air?" He asked this, all the while glancing at me in the rear view mirror, a habit he hadn't yet let go off.

How he always managed to take my parents to places and get them there in one piece was always, and still is a mystery to me.

Nevertheless, I was not at peace with him continually peering at me instead of keeping his eyes on the road. I needed to do something about it.

"Uncle Efe ... I think I saw your wife back at the airport." I made sure to keep quiet then to allow my words sink in before I continued speaking again, this time, putting a note of worry in my voice. "She looked very angry."

This time it was his turn to go deathly quiet. He turned stock still in fear, so still, I was scared we would really have an accident. Luckily his eyes stared straight ahead, fixated on the road, not a word slipped past his lips for the rest of the journey.

Now free to munch on the snacks my mom sent, I gazed at the scenic view as the car sped on.

Thick forest blanketed both sides of the road, almost fighting for space with the tarred road we were passing through.

Father had told me a tale or two about animals living inside the forest. One such story clung to my mind, not letting go.

It was a tale of how he and grandfather went inside the forest with some huntsmen to hunt for game. They happened on an elephant and killed it.

A part of me thought it was true, while the other less - believing part didn't.

Stories of grandfather's great hunting prowess floated around the palace and the town at large, of how he always caught large game when he ventured into the forest.

So no, it didn't really surprise me that he had caught an animal. But an elephant?

I shook my head disbelievingly, peering at the thick forest as we sped by.

My pupils widened when I saw a horn extending from a huge body with f . . .

Naah! That obviously wasn't true.

It had to be a trick of the light.

Or was it?

I shook my head to dispel it of whatever had taken over and continued munching.

The comfort of the car and the blurry landscape was enough to lull me to sleep. Soon enough, I was spread, as best as I could, across the comfortable leather seat, with my feet propped up and my head against the window.

Some minutes later, something tugged at my shoulder. I disregarded it and snuggled into the seats once more, ready to sail into another dream planet.

The tugging continued, followed by a man's voice that sounded suspiciously like the driver.

"Small oga, we don reach house. Shuo! You dey sleep like person wey don die. Abi you don die?" There was a long pause in which his last statement was enough to slip me out of dream land and into reality.

A loud yawn slipped past my lips before I could stop it. The stretch that followed, released the tension from my shoulders and body. When I deigned to open my eyes, the driver was standing agape, looking at me with wide bulging eyes.

I looked past him and my eyes widened as I took in the wide black gates of my country home. The paint looked glossier than I'd last seen it, then I remembered mother's penchant for maintenance.

The two huge lions painted in gold on either side of the gate looked almost life-like as their eyes glittered from beneath huge manes. The staff of office was clearly emboldened in an x, smack in the middle of the gate.

I was still admiring the fine artistry of the staff, when the gates opened, parting it apart.

They opened wide to reveal a fountain so large, it took my breath away. As a child I'd gazed at it in awe, watching water drip into the small pool below it.

Now as an adult, I still gazed at it in awe as I took in the ostentatious nature of it. Mother had as usual, maintained it with a whole tank of pipe born water supplying the fountain daily, with hidden pipes that ran to and fro.

The fountain spanned a height of twenty feet and a width of fifteen feet. Cherubic angels stood on either side, their wide wings outstretched, mouths smiling and arms opened wide, ready to welcome owner and visitor alike that came to gaze at their beauty and splendour. I swept my eyes across it as the car moved forward at a snail's pace.

The first pillar came into view as we rounded the bend --- The North pillar. This was characterized by chalets scattered around, totalling twenty, complete, each with a servant's quarter. Each chalet was individually outfitted with everything needed to keep guests entertained. This was where visitors of the king stayed.

Huge trees had been strategically planted all around the chalets, serving as a covering from the sun's merciless heat. It sheathed the chalets in a coolness that was only felt from the beach side.

I remembered playing hide and seek with my cousin. He never found me, because I would go deep into parts that had not been cultivated then. No trees dotted those areas. I'd wondered around, taking in the eery, but peaceful aura and breathing in the clean earthy smell of trees. Now, all of the bushes were cleared and in its place, huge canopy trees stood.

We kept moving and I kept drinking in the scenery before me, memories threatening to drown me.

If the car had kept moving, we would have rounded a left bend and come to where the other two pillars were situated. The East and South pillar.

Instead, the car took a right turn which led us to the second pillar --- The West wing. There, the car came to a halting stop in front of a huge edifice that served as the King's abode --- A four - story brick house with the widest oak doors I hadn't seen in years.

I sighed, because this was where I had grown up as a child. As I looked up, it seemed even more daunting than I had thought. It could house a mini - town, and there would still be space for more people.

The door beckoned to me, it's knobs shone in the bright sunlight --- large and golden.

Delicious tendrils of memories weaved through my mind at an alarming rate. . .

Of me tugging at the door in consternation.

Of my cousin shoving me aside and hefting the wide doors open.

Of mother hugging me and leading me through the wide doors, of . . .

"My son has come home o!"

The door was wrenched open and mother ran towards me. It seemed the wind was beneath her feet as she bounded at a fast rate towards me.

She threw herself at me, the force of it taking my breath away, making me exhale through my mouth with a loud whoop. Her hold on me tightened, almost cutting off my breathing circulation.

"Mmmmnnng." I tried to get the words out, until I felt her hold on me loosen.

I began to feel sudden jerky movements but I couldn't tell if they were coming from me or mother.

Her hold on me loosened to the point where her head was on my shoulder, but the jerky movement continued --- increased, even.

I felt some moisture on my shoulder and knew she was crying.

I held her closer to me, cradling her in my arms.

"It's alright, ma. I'm home now. Don't cry." I took a hold of her shoulders and gently drew us apart.

She nodded, cleaned her eyes and steered me towards the door, where an entourage of uninformed servants waited.

"You're welcome, my prince." They all chorused in unison bowing, almost to the ground.

I smiled at all of them while mother held me tightly to her.

Once I was led inside, a feast awaited me on the table.

A feast, fit for a king.

Unfortunately, I wasn't planning on stepping into the big shoes of my father anytime soon.

Nevertheless, my stomach growled in appreciation of the spread set before me on the dining table.

As if reading my mind, mother steered me towards the long dining table --- that could seat thirty guests --- and pulled out the seat at the head.

"I can't, this was father's pla --- "

"Which is now yours." She cut in, with a smile.

Not wanting to argue, I nodded and settled down into the wide high backed silver bedecked chair.

It didn't feel right.

I squirmed, looking for an excuse to remove myself from father's seat and position myself somewhere else, but once mother sat beside me and fixed me with a warm smile, all thoughts of getting up fled my mind.

I just had to suck it up.

Not only did I do so, I thoroughly enjoyed myself as mother regaled me with funny tales of the theatrics that take place amongst the staff in the palace.

Lunch was a merry affair. I was plied with food, as servants kept placing delicacy after delicacy on the table.

I briefly wondered whether mum thought I was Shrek or an Ogre, who could eat a whole house and still want more.

After a short while, I pleaded a full stomach and got up and settled in the lounge, with mum fast at my heels. She was like a watch dog, not letting me out of her sight and I basked in her affections.

After all, I was her only child and son. She hadn't seen me in awhile, so she was entitled to her attentions and affections.

As she talked, I became drowsy.

Mum kept talking as I drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

Tug.

Tug.

Tug.

More tugging on my shoulder ensued, and I tried valiantly to swat at the pesky thing disturbing my much - needed sleep.

"Mnnng! Leave me alone!" I grumbled.

"Son, wake up!"

Mum's insistent voice, pierced through the fog of sleep surrounding me.

I shot up like a rocket, when I found her peering at me, concern written all over her face.

"What is it, ma? Is there a problem?" I was feeling the beginnings of a headache because of the way I was rudely awakened.

Mother didn't answer me. Instead she dragged me from the seat with the strength of two men and half - pushed me through the lounge, down the long corridor and past many doors.

On and on we went, passing room after room, chandelier after chandelier, until we stopped in front of two wide doors painted with the emblem of the staff and a golden crown.

There, mother stopped and turned, letting go of my hand. She looked at me searchingly. It seemed she was gauging my reaction.

I looked around me, seeing familiar surroundings, but try as I might to remember, my brain couldn't grasp at the tendrils of memories struggling to come forth. Like eels, they slipped away and dissipated completely.

Mother beckoned me closer and my feet moved towards her of their own accord.

"Open it!" She instructed.

I frowned, but did her bidding.

As I clamped a hand around the handle shaped as a lion's head, I pushed and the steel door creaked, as it swung open --- right into another world.

Light bursted out from above and I shielded my eyes against the sudden brightness.

When they had adjusted somewhat, I braved a glance at my surroundings, scanning the large cavernous room with an awe that surpassed being in the presence of the queen of England.

The revered Throne room.

My eyes bounced around as I took in the leather chairs where the high chiefs sat, totalling twenty. Behind them, numerous plush cream leather chairs sat in a pattern, for visitors.

I moved deeper into the hall, my eyes continuing to drink in every little aspect of the room.

War paintings of old dotted the left side of the wall, as well as contemporary one's. Carvings of the first king, dating back to the eighteenth century weren't left out either, as they dotted the right side of the wall.

More light flodded the massive room, as mum put on more of the chandelier lights. I shielded my eyes from it's glare. When eventually they settled to the bright light, I gazed up at impressive looking chandeliers hung from the ceiling adorned with cobwebs. I guessed this room had not been opened since father's death. Heavy silk drapes hung against the walls. And just like the chandeliers, they were dusty - looking.

I kept swinging my gaze around, drinking it all in, until my eyes fell on the tiger skin rug. It paved a wide path way, all the way up to the gold plated steps that led up to the throne chair. There, a tiger head stared at me menacingly from it's perch at the foot of the throne, it's eyes golden brown, it's fangs bared.

Somehow it had been preserved to still look fresh, after all these years. The look it gave me seemed to say --- proceed if you dare. I quickly glanced away from it's eyes and was met, insead, with the imposing throne chair.

I gasped.

The throne chair. . . the revered throne chair.

It sat resplendent, majestic, grand.

Made of pure gold from it's wide arm rests to a wide leather seat that could comfortably sit three men to it's claw feet, it was a sight to behold and more.

Two massive pillars also made entirely of gold, stood on either side, caging the throne chair and serving as a form of shield from the attack of enemies.

That is if any enemy managed to get in through the palace, pass the North pilar, gain entrance into the palace and pass through the steel doors. The numerous guards were always ready to kill and be killed for the king.

Something glittered from the leather - padded seat. I walked to it in a daze.

The staff of office beckoned at me from it's total perch on the seat. Nothing I describe will show it's true beauty, so I'm not even going to try.

I remembered as a little boy I would seat on father's laps during his meetings with the chiefs, and play with the staff while he held it in his hand. Fond memories swept through my mind and I was helpless to stop them.

Tears choked my throat as I stood, staring and willing the memories away.

I turned round to see mother staring at me, her head cocked to one side, a quizzical look on her face.

Anger like a lance, pierced through me. Hot and painful.

"Blackmail, ma?" I moved close to her, stealthy as a cat. "You brought me here because you thought it would make me change my mind to ascend the throne, right?"

She said nothing, but her face answered it all. The play of guilty emotion was stark and clear as day.

I stalked out of the throne room, anger surging through me in relentless waves.

How could she wake me up, knowing fully well I was tired from the journey?

How could she try to blackmail me?

My feet unknowingly led me to my father's study where I banged the door shut behind me and made straight for the decanter of alcohol I knew always sat on the table.

I rushed to it, about to pour a generous amount of liquid into the glass, but stopped and went for the bottle instead.

I chugged it down like it was water. The bitter liquid coursed down my throat, tracing a fiery pathway as it went.

Anger made me see red, literally, and so fueled with adrenaline, I took every last drop into my system.

I looked around with wild eyes after. Wanting to lash out at something, I looked at the empty bottle in my hand and threw it against the wall where it splintered into many parts, then I stalked to my room.

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," my 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.

My 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 swivelled 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 my 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 persual.

Someone knocked on the door just then.

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

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 George materials from the array he brought. All the materials were overboard with their intricate styles, so I made sure to choose the material with a more modest style. He took my measurement and took his leave.

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 my head, 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 mothwr, 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 preety 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 realised 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 embarrass 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.