So I was grinding some herbs in the yard (something I do myself these days, can’t trust all these acolytes to get it right) when I had that feeling, oh, that feeling that indicates the oracle wants to speak with me.
Hurriedly, I completed the task at hand and went into the supplication room. The oracle was indeed waiting, but what surprised me was the anger. The boiling anger… At whom was this anger directed? I shiver to think… not me, never me.
I gathered my wrapper around my frail body and tightened the shawl around my waist, I was going to begin eulogising the deity when my throat reminded me to use a lower voice… ah, my cough!
Cough or no cough, Ifa was angry, someone had done something and unless I pleased him with my voice, heads would roll…
Awo niwo, ogberi lemi
Jebure, awo olugbebe ooooo
Ifa jebure ooo, awo olugbebe oo
Dakun dabo fiye denu, awo ire.
If Ifa was not pacified now, let the heads roll… I could feel my throat closing up.
At last! The voice… praise be to my ancestors who have not forsaken me…
“I was angry”
Ah, goes without saying. I bowed my head.
“I only wanted to check you all here on earth, see how you were faring and to give you a blessing or two, but it caused me great pain to get here”
I was speechless still, what could have caused such pain?
“I couldn’t get fuel!”
“Paga!!!!” I yelled
“Wiwon epo ni tabi ai rowo ra (scarcity or lack of wherewithal?)
So, fuel scarcity had the guts to waylay the oracle and pour pepper in his eyes? Continue! Who will save you when my cough doesn’t allow me to do as much as croak talk more of chanting in your defense…
Fuel, I tell you, continue!