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Oriri's Plight
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Commencer à lireNotes:
Évaluation : 5 sur 5 étoiles5/5 (3 évaluations)
Longueur: 218 pages3 heures
- Éditeur:
- Clockwyce Publishing
- Sortie:
- Sep 21, 2018
- ISBN:
- 9780463682098
- Format:
- Livre
Description
Oriri finally arrived at ‘the place where the light is’, and the people of the light had welcomed him with open arms; and as it is in the inherent nature of dreams the details were always a bit sketchy, but he recalled that the people made a feast for him. Dames, with beads of pearls adorning their hair and necks danced in excitement, all for him. They served him fresh milk in a bowl that shined, accompanied by a delicacy of smoked bush meat, none of which he was familiar with in Abwari; that is the bowl and smoked bush meat.
People didn’t eat meat in his town, only salmon and fruits, or other foods that could be consumed raw. Land animals were considered one with the people and were treated with respect; no one had a reason or even the mere thought of making a meal of them. Cattle were raised for the purpose of milk production mostly, and some of the bulls also served as beasts of burden. The old cows were left to graze free until their dying day, as remuneration for spending their youth providing milk, or breaking the soil by the dragging of the Shanti plough on the poppy farms, in the service of their owners.
Informations sur le livre
Oriri's Plight
Notes:
Évaluation : 5 sur 5 étoiles5/5 (3 évaluations)
Longueur: 218 pages3 heures
Description
Oriri finally arrived at ‘the place where the light is’, and the people of the light had welcomed him with open arms; and as it is in the inherent nature of dreams the details were always a bit sketchy, but he recalled that the people made a feast for him. Dames, with beads of pearls adorning their hair and necks danced in excitement, all for him. They served him fresh milk in a bowl that shined, accompanied by a delicacy of smoked bush meat, none of which he was familiar with in Abwari; that is the bowl and smoked bush meat.
People didn’t eat meat in his town, only salmon and fruits, or other foods that could be consumed raw. Land animals were considered one with the people and were treated with respect; no one had a reason or even the mere thought of making a meal of them. Cattle were raised for the purpose of milk production mostly, and some of the bulls also served as beasts of burden. The old cows were left to graze free until their dying day, as remuneration for spending their youth providing milk, or breaking the soil by the dragging of the Shanti plough on the poppy farms, in the service of their owners.
- Éditeur:
- Clockwyce Publishing
- Sortie:
- Sep 21, 2018
- ISBN:
- 9780463682098
- Format:
- Livre
À propos de l'auteur
Nigerian singer/songwriter, performing and recording artiste and author; popularly known as Brymo.
En rapport avec Oriri's Plight
Aperçu du livre
Oriri's Plight - Ọlawale Ọlofọrọ
Ọlọfọrọ
PROLOGUE
Oriri had the same dream again. He had finally arrived at ‘the place where the light is’, and the people of the light had welcomed him with open arms; and as it is in the inherent nature of dreams the details were always a bit sketchy, but he recalled that the people made a feast for him. Dames, with beads of pearls adorning their hair and necks danced in excitement, all for him. They served him fresh milk in a bowl that shined, accompanied by a delicacy of smoked bushmeat, none of which he was familiar with in Abwari; that is the bowl and smoked bushmeat.
People didn’t eat meat in his town, only salmon and fruits, or other foods that could be consumed raw. Land animals were considered one with the people and were treated with respect; no one had a reason or even the mere thought of making a meal of them. Cattle were raised for the purpose of milk production mostly, and some of the bulls also served as beasts of burden. The old cows were left to graze free until their dying day, as remuneration for spending their youth providing milk, or breaking the soil by the dragging of the Shanti plough on the poppy farms, in the service of their owners.
Warriors wrestled bare-chested for Oriri’s entertainment, and the people of the light rejoiced for his arrival, they sang and called him messiah.
The ruler of the kingdom, a king like none Oriri had seen before gave a speech in his honour. The king’s crown was bejewelled with blue and green gemstones, his glittery robe covered all the way down to his ankles, and hefty men stood all around for his protection; he thanked the gods for sending Oriri their way.
A deer was slain and its blood was spilled on the shrine under a large Aruko tree in the town square where the feast was held - and Oriri could never understand how the priest drew blood from the animal, the bloody dagger the man held in the dream was another strange sight for him.
His clothing of leaves was replaced with a smooth silky material, and he was treated as royalty. Only the king, his queen, and the princess donned same clothing as Oriri.
That day, the yellow and translucent leaves of the giant Aruko shone brightly in the glare of daylight, and they stuck firmly to their branches; they spanned and shaded the length and breadth of the space the people stood in; and the people all came to welcome Oriri, in droves, from every corner of the kingdom.
It was bright that evening everywhere at ‘the place where the light is’. Children played joyfully under the luminance of the beauty of a night without darkness. Oriri had followed when the king led him to a hut in the heart of the palace, there was light in the corner of the spacious room, illuminating from an oil lamp made of clay, the sight of which was another first for him - a bed of soft feathers had been prepared for him in the magnificent hut, and Oriri went to sleep looking forward to a new day in which the great king had promised that he would bask in even greater pleasures.
Chapter 1
Oriri was jolted out of slumber, as the sudden glare of the sun pulled him away from his sweet dream, making him squint as he struggled briefly to open his eyes. He could never understand the content of his incessant dreaming; the kind of food the people ate, the way they dressed, and the reason they always rejoiced at the sight of him. The place of the light in his dreams had a level of sophistication that even Abwari didn’t have, and in Shesere region Abwari town was a haven to neighbouring villages and hamlets.
The ashewo, as prostitutes were referred to in Agiara, in whose hut and soft mattress of feathers Oriri had slept, was the one who let the sunlight in by lifting and removing the covering made of ragged wooden frames and leaves that was the door to her hut, she needed him to leave. It was a new day, and she must prepare for the day’s work. Her costumers came from all corners of the settlement, and she would not let Oriri keep them away from her warm feather mattress.
Agiara being a transit settlement, the men who patronized its sex workers were travellers on their numerous adventures, in a hurry for a quick sexual gratification before continuing on their way to wherever their destinations might be.
Oriri stumbled out of the ashewo’s hut; he would have slept all day if she would let him. He had had little or no sleep on his four-day journey to Agiara.
His home town Abwari, unlike Agiara was located in the mountains. It was cold most days and every night, and the weather helped his people in the cultivation of the poppy plant. Abwarians depended on the medicinal powers of the opium plant when combined with other herbs to cure many ills, and the poppy was Abwari’s well guarded secret, and the medicine was the town’s contribution to Nubian civilization. Oriri’s father was one of the biggest farm owners across the land; his farmland spanned a few hectres - Agiara in contrast was a small transit settlement; its Ashewo women and their pimps were its only attraction – and the fishes in its river.
Every night, the people of Abwari, despite their poppy farms and powerful medicine had to sleep in the dark. As far as Oriri was concerned, the sun, the supreme god of the land always deserted them at night. His father would tell tales of how the sun left every evening to teach the people the cycle of life; that the people must do all their work before sunset, and when it became dark everyone must stay in their huts until the day broke again. Only on nights when the moon was full would the children come out to play, and the adults would sit out, and the old would tell stories of ancient tribal and family feuds to the young, and they would all make merry. Gongo was served, and those who preferred fresh milk drank their fill. The Gongo was everyone’s favourite; it was made from fermented and solidified milk, and was eaten as snack.
The opium from the poppy also served as a recreational drug that only adults could snort when the harvested crop was dried and ground into powder.
The nights of the full moon were the best nights in Abwari, weddings and naming ceremonies were held on such nights. The moon was the wife to the sun in Abwarian religion, sent by the sun to show the people light on those special nights. It was why they celebrated, to show appreciation to the sun-god.
The position of Abwari gave a great view of the terrain below the hills. One could see miles upon miles of land on the way downhill. The slopes of the Abwari highlands grew vastly into sprawling grasslands, with very few trees dotting the landscape here and there, and many of the trees were bent, due to the slopy nature of the land they grew forth from, and they stood at great intervals from each other - the frquent climb up and downhill to fetch firewood was by far Oriri’s only preparation on his journey to find the light. Walking on flat land had become child’s play, and he didn’t get tired easily.
Legend was that the founders of Abwari town had initially settled on the flat lands below the hills, but then they made their way up when bandits constantly raided their homes. The high ground helped Oriri’s forebears to keep sight of potential assailants from a distance, in order to be prepared to defend their settlement against oncoming danger.
Oriri’s hut was located on the far outside-right of his father’s compound, and he had the best view of the distant lands below. The abundant presence of the Riki plant that grew wildly outside his window was one of the perks of the position of his little hut. The sweet and soft savoury smell oozing from the purple flowers of the plant, though not edible was considered therapeutic by all. Oriri had often wondered if the scent from the flowers was responsible for his visions, if they were halucinations.
On many nights Oriri would dream of looking out of his small window, and in the darkness that stretched into the infinite distance he would see a little light. His visions had become so vivid that he could no longer put away the urge to set out and find the place.
There were tales from a long time before, of young people from Abwari, two boys and a girl who journeyed to seek adventure and had never returned, many full moons before Oriri was born; and there was another woman who was said to have gone away when Oriri was a toddler. Oriri would ponder and even once asked his mother Tara, if indeed the townspeople knew that something bad had happened to the travellers, or if they had truly found what they had set out after, and then decided to stay and never return to Abwari. Tara had responded that no one knew, but that the people believed that Abwari was the most beautiful place on the continent, and the travellers couldn’t have found a better place to call home - Oriri would think to himself about what would happen if he decided to journey out to find the phantom kingdom that plagued his dreams.
Oriri threw his duffel which was made of the broad and resilient leaf of the Pimpi plant over his shoulder, hanging by a strap that was made from the naturally occurring ropes on the soft but steady bark of the Iki tree. The strap was made by knotting a rope on each of all four corners of the tips of the rectangular broad leaf, and bringing all four knots to a confluence in the centre where two ropes extended and joined in a hoop, and the sack-like bag closed and opened by a releasable strap. The duffel hung comfortably from Oriri’s shoulder as he made his way out of Agiara.
He had spoken to the ashewo about the place of the light the night before, he could not see her face in the dark, but knew she thought that he was insane; and she was terrified, he could tell by the way her breathe became heavier such that he could hear her inhale and exhale. People in Agiara had never heard of the place he sought.
The prostitute had told him, in a slightly shaky but never the less sarcarstic tone; and Oriri noticed that her Shesere was laced with an accent he could not place – that he should continue his journey at dawn, and that she wished him luck on his hunt for ghost-town.
Oriri stayed up long after she had slept off. He didn’t want to have sex, and he had only needed a place to lay his head for the night. The ashewo had mentioned that he was too young to be so far away from home, and that he was weird, that most of the men she came across wanted to get between her legs even before they handed her the cowries they had bargained for her carnal services. She was glad that she didn’t have to serve Oriri’s purported sexual needs with her body, even though he had paid her the full amount she usually got from an all-night costumer.
The travellers whose trades and adventures took through Agiara had started to pour into the settlement in large numbers. The breezy atmosphere at Agiara River bank brought everyone there. Oriri watched as two golden Salmon traders set up shop adjacent each other, their fishing net lain in a wet heap beside them. The nets were made from the weaving of Iki ropes, and the wooden spear with which they impaled the fishes after they got trapped in the densely thick Iki net while trying to swim across it on their constant migration downstream, also stood leaning on a tree nearby. The river bank smelled heavily of fish and the atmosphere was charged with trading activites.
From where he stood Oriri could make out the images of two men who were almost shoulder deep into the river, he watched as they manuvered a fishnet into a wall and waited with spear in hand for the fishes.
Oriri thought about the amount of time it must take for the men to set their deadly traps, he caught sight of the copper blade that jutted up from the hip of one of the fish mongers, as the bulky man bent to pick out a fish that was still trapped in the net.
Fruit sellers and even medicine traders from Abwari all lined the Agiara river bank. Oriri could make out the Abwarian traders by the herbs and medicine they had on display. No opium was in sight, as it was Abwarian tradition to not share the special ingredient with outsiders, only the finished product was for sale.
Oriri bought some edible jelly fish, dried from the direct heat of the sun, from a woman who kept shouting at the passersby for patronage. She solicited sales at the top of her voice like it was important to out-yell the other sellers to attract potential buyers.
It would be another long journey for days before Oriri would come across the next Village or settlement; he took some of the jellyfish to eat and kept the rest for later.
Chapter 2
In Abwari the opinion of everyone mattered, even a toddler’s, if the child could form the words to voice it. When children reached puberty, the right to choose how to live the rest of their lives became their own. A girl was free to choose her own husband, and even got separated if the union did not suit her needs. Choice of profession also became yours to make. Some became poppy farmers, while others caught salmon. Some were Traders or singers at the king’s court, and others were politicians and lobbyists. The seekers worked in the king’s court as lawyers and judges, maintaining the peace and bringing justice.
Oriri’s father had hoped his only son would grow up into a poppy farmer just like him, or maybe become a medicine man. It came as a surprise to him when Oriri decided he would be a travelling dreamer instead. He spent many nights wondering what would happen to his lands of poppy farm if Oriri never returned. Although Oriri had assured him he would come back someday, that he only wanted to satisfy his curiosity; to find ‘the place where the light is’, and to bring the light to Abwari, but Lamanga held the argument that the people who had ventured from the protection of the highlands before Oriri never returned. Lamanga worried that his son might never come back home. Oriri reminded him so much of his grandfather who was the first farmer in the family. The boy had his great grandfather’s lanky and strong physique, even at his average height; but the greatest similarity they bore was the determination in Oriri’s temperament.
On the day of his departure, the women of Dala clan, Oriri’s kin came to bid him farewell as was tradition. Food items and medicine were donated to aid him on his journey. They all wished Oriri would change his mind and stay, but they also knew that they must respect his wish as an adult; they must let him follow the yearnings of his soul. Tara, a tall woman with big brown eyes that were a little puffy on that day from crying prayed for him, calling on the sun god to guide and bring her son back safely. Oriri would not look in her eyes; he couldn’t stand the tears that flowed from them because of his imminent departure.
A calabash of cowries was placed on the river of the sun, at the valley below, to the northwest of the mountains of Abwari by the white priest, an appeasement to the sun-god, seeking his guidance for Oriri’s journey into the unknown.
What an irony; Praying to a god to guide the path of a man who didn’t believe in the diety, Oriri thought, even as he knelt to let the white priest sprinkle water from the calabash of the white shrine on him. He also pondered briefly why the shrine and priest were called white, when the shrine was built of brown mud, and the priest always donned the same dark green Pimpi leaf that most people covered their naked bodies with in Abwari. He would ask his father what it all meant, except that it was time for him to leave, any more wasted moments could have him yielding, but he wouldn’t change his mind.
Oriri was certain that the sun and moon were not the only sources of light, that if he could get to the place in his dreams, he could find and bring the light home. He knew that his success would affect a long standing cultural practice of his people, the worship of the sun-god. It would also mean that his people would no longer depend on the occasional light brought by the moon at night. To not need the moon would ultimately mean to no longer revere the sun-god.
The people of Abwari, although certain that Oriri would never return just like everyone before him did not take offence in his venture, although they all feared that they would never see him again. Lamanga continued to express his worries, and should Oriri succeed the changes it would bring to Abwari were unprecedented.
For the last time Lamanga implored his son to stay and continue to learn the skill of opium planting, and to eventually take charge of the supervision of the activities of the poppy farm that he would one day inherit. Also, Lamanga secretly nursed the thought that Oriri might succeed than fail, because from when he was a mere toddler, the divination of the priests had always pointed to a great destiny for the child.
Barely a few days into his adventure, Oriri had already seen and had been through enough
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Avis
crucru57
A good read, a masterpiece! Good job Brymo, he never fails to deliver.
Rating: 5