Women Of Steel | ✔

IX

"I wanted to see the woman I have been seeing in my dreams," She repeats. I blink twice, rooted to the spot where i kneel in shock.

At first I want to brush her words away, tell her that there is no truth in them that she couldn't possibly see me in her dreams, a woman she has never met. Magic is the thing of dreams, of stories of gods long forgotten, and sometimes it takes the presence of a babalawo to remind that mortals can wield it in their hands and see it in visions. Sometimes magic manifests itself in juju, certain charms containing it, these charms are made into physical objects like a bangle, or a necklace — like the ones my brother wore proudly when he was king, fat chance that did him, he was still slain.

It take me a slow moment for me to remember that my supposed father is one of those gods and that I am the daughter of a god, then I shake my head and urge her to continue, choosing to indulge her.

"The dreams started three full moons ago," she says, furrowing her brows and staring ahead at seemingly nothing until I trace her eyes and find them looking at the rigid man standing by the flap, his gaze giving nothing away but I do catch the slight nod of encouragement he gives her.

"How long have you had visions about people you have never met?" I cut in, curious. Her eyes flash with annoyance but she answers my question while I squash the urge to remind her that I am a princess and entitled to anything.

"Since I was a child." She says. "In those dreams, it is like I am wearing your skin, not observing it like you would suppose."

I nod along, impressed by her flawless Ede and wonder where she could have picked it up from, because while Yoruba has become almost forgotten as a language, the poor and ordinary still speak it and occasionally a broken version of Ede. This girl looks too dark to be Igbo and too light be Hausa, it is fair to assume she is Yoruba.

"It always end with me — I mean, you being stabbed by someone hidden in shadows." She continues, looking at me strangely when I remain speechless.

A part of me is not sure whether to be afraid, because I have seen prophecies come to pass, I have helped them come to pass but the other part of me is calm, unreasonably so.

I nod. "Have you eaten?" I ask.

The man coughs behind me and the girl before me continues to gape.

"I just told you there is death lying in disguise waiting for you and you ask if I want to eat?" She splutters.

"If I fainted, would you prefer that?" I tell her sarcastically, tucking a braid of my hair behind me hair, I deflate when her look remains. "Look, how many times have your prophecies come to pass?"

She doesn't miss a beat. "Every single time."

"Then there is no point worrying about something that is set in stone." I say, patting down my lap, now panic seems to settle slowly until I can comprehend it, I am going to die. "Now tell me, where did you come from and what is your name?"

She blinks back tears, a traitorous one slides down her cheek. "I am Arewa and I hail from a small fishing town on the outskirts of Ile Wura."

I lean forward. "Abule Agba?"

She nods, clearly pleased that I know. "My father is a fisherman who sold my sister off to some slave masters, I wanted them to take me and let my sister go but they didn't."