The Diary Of A Reluctant King. Vol 1

Chapter 2

The fire breather had quite clearly singed my eye brows. As I turned to protest to my dear Ajike, she burst into laughter at the charred remnants of my facial pride.

Ijogbon, I retorted. It had been a magnificent evening, we had seen the Egungun dance, and we had seen the Ifa Priests perform their tricks of luminary splendor.

I shook my fist at the fire breather, I think he got the point and maintained a safe distance from me. I had begged Ajike to allow us sit a safe distance from the action, but she disagreed. She knew she had me wrapped around her finger.

I proceeded to look for her trouble. A large explosion arrested my attention, smoke filled the vicinity and as it cleared, the lonely figure of the Chief Ifa Priest became more and more visible under the beaming moon light.

The selection was about to begin. The "talking drummer" maintained a steady and intonated beat. Chief Ifa began to dance, and we all began to sing "jẹ ki ọwọ obatala isubu lori awon ti o wa ni yẹ" ("let the hand of Obatala fall on those that are worthy"), "jẹ ki eledumare mu oun to Lágbára ju jade" (Let Eledumare Select The Strongest). As we all chanted, I could hear the sound of cowries falling onto the soil. The Chief Ifa mumbled his incantations as he spread them around. For every one white cowry there were 100 black cowries. A black cowry meant that the Orisha had determined that you were a spectator, but a white cowry meant that you were required to fight, either by yourself, or by proxy.

The smoke began to clear as the egungun danced feverishly and vigorously with huge handmade fans. It was a thing of honor to be chosen to wrestle for the Orisha. Joyous screams were soon heard as people began to discover their fate. I heard my father laugh. A white cowry had fallen at his feet for the first time. I gave him a knowing nod, he was 73 years old, though healthy and spritely, he was in no condition to partake in such a contest. I switched places with him as customs demanded and picked up his white
cowry.
The drummer changed his intonation and the crowd followed " Gi-Di-Gbo De .... Gi- Di-Gbo De" (The Time To Fight Has Come .... The Time To Fight Has Come), jẹ ki eledumare mu oun to Lágbára ju jade" (Let Eledumare Select The Strongest).
There were seven white cowries, each representing the seven main Orisha and all seven of us to whom the cowries fell were summoned to the center.
We were all given a white cloth to tie around our heads, Opon Ifa (Divination Board) was brought out, and we were all asked to throw our cowries on it. Immediately our cowries touched the board, Chief Ifa began his incantations. His subordinates danced around us with white chalk. We were about to be assigned to an Orisha. Chief Ifa danced toward us , he looked the first man right in the eye shook the Opon Ifa and said in a loud voice, without breaking his gaze "ESHU!!!" the crowd cheered as they inked the symbol of Eshu on the cloth tied firmly around his head.
Yemoja was assigned next, Oshun followed, the assignment of Sango was met with the loudest cheers as Sango is the Orisha associated with masculinity, war, fighting, thunder, fire, and lightning.
Ogun was assigned next after which Oya followed. I represented Orunmila the Orisha in charge of knowledge and wisdom. At the time I felt a little let down, but later, I would realize my folly and count my luck.

Sweat had turned the dry dusty ground to mud as we battled away. It was a free for all. Just like Sango himself, the man in his stead was of a great and imposing stature. The crowds laughed as he tossed his opponents across the ring with little effort. Before long, Eshu the trickster Orisha could not lend his representative any tricks that were useful and Ogun could not provide any metal to his man's resolve. Before long and with thunderous thuds, both were laid flat on their backs and their contest was over. Sango was victorious and he moved on to other opponents. One's back must not touch the ground in Gidigbo as to fall on your back is to accept defeat.

His grip was tight, I could barely breathe, much like the suffocating and drowning power of the Orisha of the Seas. I was still struggling with one, while Sango was going through the men like a knife through butter. I saw my Ajike, she was worried, her fear lit fire to my soul and I broke Yemoja's hold. My eyes were red, and as I gasped for air, Yemoja approached like a crashing wave. Not a moment passed before I found myself in the air, back heading toward the cold ground. I broke my fall as well as my little finger trying to avoid defeat. I landed awkwardly and blinding pain was my lot.