The Diary Of A Reluctant King. Vol 1

Chapter 1

So many doors had been slammed in my face that I started to believe it was part of my job
description.
One time, one of my targets had the audacity to chase me around with a machete, onlookers argued that it was a knife, but trust me, it was a machete. At the time it was nothing to laugh about , but come to think of it, I was running at high speed through Balogun market, one of the busiest and rowdiest markets in Lagos, under the hot sun, in an oversized suit, my new shoes chaffing my little toe and my tie trying to hold together the collar on my undersized white shirt, while a rather fit 50 year old trader, in Iru and Buba , large bangles for earrings, chased me around vowing to send my genitals to my family if I she ever got a hold of me, much to the delight of other traders, who cheered her on.

Mrs. Gbajabiamila, very colorful lady. I doubt if tax collectors are welcome anywhere in the world, and funny enough, not even in their own offices. We are expected to be on the road all day, enforcing the law, and our bosses keep forgetting that a piece of paper is hardly the best protection you can have against a well taken care of cutlass. Even a pair of running shoes would help us do our jobs better, or at least help us return alive, but that's the raw deal I've been dealt, in this economy, you take whatever job you can find.
My only solace in this life is my family. At least, at the end of the day, I know that I can go back home... Yes... home, the place where I do the door slamming, the place where knives are lovingly used to cut plantains, and yam, and yes, the place where the woman holding this knife isn't some demented old lady with no regard for the law or even human decency, No, she is the law, and she is human decency, she is so beautiful, she is mine and mine alone, she is Ajike, my lovely wife.
You see, when people like Mrs. Gbajies (that's what I call her to annoy her) give me stress and wish death on me, she gives me life, and a reason to go back and face these machete wielding maniacs (yes, Mrs. Gbajies influenced the rest of the traders) day after day, and now with our little bundle of joy on the way and my Canadian citizenship application coming along swimmingly it's just a matter of time before I swap this life for a better one. Just a matter of time.
We stay at Mowe, it's not too bad, well, on a good day, its 20 minutes away from Lagos where I work, but about 2 to 3 hours when the good Lord decides to bless us with some much needed traffic. Ajike is on maternity leave so thankfully she doesn't have to deal with this rubbish. Have I mentioned how much I love her?
I'm sorry, I digress, and I know I've been beating around the bush. It's funny because that's probably what I actually did for much of this story I'm about to tell you.
Follow me, if you will, to a place so close to the human realm, but so far away from our capacity to understand. It starts thusly.
I and Ajike love to visit the village. That was where we met for the first time, just before the town crier called all the people to the place where we gather to celebrate our culture and give thanks to our Eleda.
We call this place "Igi Obatala" (Obatala's tree) in honor of our Orisha Obatala.
You see, according to our Yoruba Creation Story, when the world was without form, and all the Orishas (deities) were living in Orun (Heaven) and apparently enjoying the good life and having a bloody good time, under the grace and majesty of Eledumare (not to be confused with Olorun, The God Of The Sky), the God of gods and the King of kings (and queens too), Obatala grew restless for some odd reason and went to meet Eledumare for permission to explore the land below and to be allowed to make dry land and from this land make plants and creatures of all sorts to walk upon it.

The problem was that, all that was below was water, as far as the eye could see, and furthermore, there was no way to get down from Orun (Heaven) to Earth.
To solve this problem Obatala went to meet Orunmila, the Orisha in charge of wisdom, knowledge and prophecy to help him solve this problem. Orunmila, being dashingly handsome and incredibly awesome, as well as wise, asked Obatala to gather all the gold he could from the other Orisha and give it to Ogun (Orisha of all Metal) who would form a chain which he could use to climb down from Orun to earth.
Orunmila, being the awesome guy he is, helped Obatala gather a Snail's Shell filled with heavenly sand, an egg, a black cat and a palm nut, all of which he put in a really cool bag for Obatala to carry on his journey.
Obatala drove the hook at the end of the golden chain into the corner of the sky and began his descent. Seven days passed and Obatala eventually came to the end of the chain, but thankfully, with his target in sight. He was taken, first by excitement and then by fear.
He had reached his destination, but the chain wasn't long enough to guaranty him a safe landing, furthermore, there was nowhere to land.
Orunmila the main man, called from Orun, and asked Obatala to throw down the sand in the snail shell he had given him into the water below. Obatala's excitement grew even greater, because as soon as the sand touched the water, it solidified and became dry land. His heart pounded like bottled thunder, and before he knew it, the egg which he had placed on his chest hatched from all the heat and out came Sankofa the hen. Sankofa glided down and on contact began to scratch the sand below and in doing so helped, in no small measure, to spread the sand across the waters. In places where little sand landed, hills, dunes and lowlands were formed, but in places where a lot of sand landed, mountains and large formations were created. Fortunately for Obatala, one of these mountains were formed close enough for him to make a safe landing
and finally he let go of the chain.