An African Tale (Verse 4)

Narrator: Voices. All she heard was voices in her head telling her to go. To go to the market square where all had gathered. Where all had gathered and tell them of the looming danger. The looming danger that is about to fall. To fall on every head and be heard by every ear. Every ear now listens attentively to the Messenger. The messenger of Olambila. Olambila, the oracle guarded by only virgins and one very old, old man.

The square is now quite, you can even hear a caterpillar belch. The messenger stands in the middle with her dreadlocks marred with white paint and with rod in her palm and cowries round her feet.

Messenger [obviously possessed]: Olambila has spoken….hear me….the princess will kill her father and make her mother her slave. She will become full of evil and give no kind heart to no child. But she has an option to escape from this destiny, and that is to offer her as a sacrifice to Olambila.

Townspeople begin to wail.

Elders [rebuking]: Tofiakwa! Over our dead bodies.

Messenger [looking fiercely and pointing the rod at them]: May your wishes come true.

Immediately the elders fell dead not even moving an inch with only the First Elder remaining.

First Elder [obviously grateful and full of fear]: I thank the gods. I now know why I stammer.

Messenger: Hear me…[laughs]….I say, hear me…Olambila is not a god…but you have an option to save yourselves. Be wise King Kofi, be wise and do the right thing. Hard things are hard….but then what else can they be?

Townspeople begin to chatter among themselves. King Kofi had been quiet all this while with his wife wailing on his shoulder.

King Kofi [gestures to body guards]: Bring me that messenger’s head on that rod of hers.

To be continued…

A Verse by Kotey.

Good day.

 

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