A month ago while taking an evening stroll from Eric Moore road to Bode Thomas Street. A shiny black Prado jeep caught my attention, it had just been stopped by the traffic light. No sooner than it came to a halt, the occupants jumped out of the car in artistic fashion. The first was the driver, a fair skinned lady in black velvet transparent skimpy dress, it was long enough to reveal her pant. The other 3 ladies joined her in quick succession. The one seated next to the driver and two others occupying the rear seat.

A studio mix of Olu maintains “Yahoo o o o, Yahooze” and “Maga don pay shout alleluyah o o o o o o” blasting from the car stereo got the ladies vibrating. They entertained passersby and other motorist to an energetic display of choreography accentuated with bum and chest movements.

The traffic light turned green, they jumped into the SUV and zoomed off. The puzzled road users asked questions like, “to what do these girls owe this questionable show of excitement?” Others echoed my thought, “Wetin person no go see for this Lagos?”

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(Short story) OHUNDE – THE MYSTICAL STONE

“Mum, I will not believe your story until I take possession of the Ohunde…” said Segun. I knew at this point that it will take a lot of conviction to discourage Segun from visiting his ancestral home. I pleaded with him, “Segun, please listen to me, I am your Mother and care about your safety”. I continued “Your paternal grandfather had such great powers (pointing at his photograph on the wall) he was feared and respected by his townsmen for his mystical powers – the ‘Ohunde’. With the Ohunde, your grandfather had the powers to disappear and reappear in whatever part of the world he desired”. The ohunde is described to be an oval shaped black shiny stone possessed by the highest traditional title holder in Iffe, your father’s village. Since the death of your grandfather, no one has been crowned to take his place, it is believed that the ohunde is locked up in his room.

Rising from the sofa and pacing the sitting room, Seguns face was filled with disgust and disbelief, “Mum, not in the 21st Century, I refuse to be fooled”. He turned off the TV and said to me, “I will not believe your story until I take possession of the Ohunde, I will be traveling to Iffe next week”. His reaction was typical of his father, I voiced my thoughts, “you are as strong willed as your father, it led to his untimely death”.

Throughout my marriage to my late husband, I had only visited Iffe once to visit his extended family. He had lost his parents when we met and got married. All I knew about them were his accounts.

Exactly one week after our discussion, Segun set out to the village in company of Femi. Iffe is about 1000km from Lagos. Femi grew up in Iffe before seeking education and greener pastures in Lagos. He spoke the Iffe dialect fluently. He had collaborated my story to Segun and warned him against the adventure; emphasizing that the Ohunde story though sounded like a myth has been passed from one generation to the other as fact.

No sooner than they made entry into Iffe, they could tell it was a closely knitted community. With the help of some villagers and Femi who could speak the local dialect
Segun located his grandfather’s hut. Knowing the history of the house, the villagers did not come near the building, they pointed at it from a distance.

“A certain ritual is to be performed before removing the ohunde”, my warning played back in his head one more time

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