The Weight of a Name

We had just finished the village festival in my father's hometown, and it was just noon; the sun hadn't set, but we could see the hot golden sun turn dark orange as it set little by little.

"Demola, go and call your sisters from the dance ground and tell your cousins we are going home. We need to get home on time so we can start packing. You know we are leaving very early." My mom said to me.

Since I am the first male child of the family, my mom believes the responsibility of looking after my sisters falls on my shoulders, and this gave me a little authority over them because sometimes when I speak to them, it feels like my parents are the ones talking to them, especially when I am trying to look out for them.

I hurriedly went to the dance ground. I pushed through the people standing in a circle while watching the young maidens dance their sorrow away.

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"Aunty, Ife. Aunty... Mommy said we should start coming home. Call Ife also, so we can leave together. We need to move now. I will go tell Tobi and Timi that we will be leaving soon, so they can know," I said to my sister. She nodded, her eyes scanning for my other sister, while I left in search of my cousins.

I found Tobi and Timi at the far end of the dance ground, talking with some boys their age. After passing Mom’s message, I turned back quickly to get my sisters. But what I met froze my steps.

Two young men, both strangers to me, stood too close to my sisters, their grins wide and sly. They were talking, leaning in as though they owned the space around them. My sisters looked uneasy.

I walked up without hesitation, a straight face, and looked the boys dead in the eyes.
“Let’s start going,” I said without fear, reaching for my sisters’ hands.

But before I could pull them away, one of the boys grabbed my arm.
“Cant you see we’re talking to them? Or are you blind?” he sneered.

I slapped his hand off without a second thought.
“I’m here for my sisters, not for you. Don’t stop me.”

I gripped both my sisters’ hands tightly and tried to pass, but just then three more boys stepped forward, blocking our way.

I sighed, forcing a smile. “It will be better if you let me pass… because you don’t know me very well in this town.”

They burst into laughter, mocking me, and the first boy walked up to me, poke his finger into my chest.
“Who are you?” he asked, his eyes daring me.

My sisters clung tighter to me, fear clear in their faces. I kept my ground, but my heart was pounding.

Just then, an elderly man who had been sitting nearby shot up to his feet and ran toward us. His voice boomed louder than the drumming from the festival.

“What is going on here?” he shouted in his cracky voice.

Even I felt a shiver run through my spine. The boys quickly pulled back, their laughter dying on their lips as the man approached, his walking stick tapping the ground like a warning drumbeat.

They recognized him, but I didn't.

"Eyin ko ni omo to wa lati ile apotipopo" (Are you not the children that come from the house of Apotipop?) He said in our native tongue.

I nodded my head as my sister's grip on my hand became tighter.

"Ore babayi mo je" (I'm friends with your grandfather), He continued. "Se awon omoyi yo yin lenu" (Are these boys troubling you)

"Beeni sir" (Yes sir), I replied.

He turned around and looked at the boys with a death stare that made them shiver. He walked closer to them and then started talking.

"If you know what is good for you, you will leave these children alone. They are the grandchildren to the high chief. Chief Fashanu from the House of Apotipopo. So better be on your way before the Chief sends someone to come find them, by that time you will be dancing with fire." He said in our native tongue, and the boys ran away without looking back.

It turned out that the old man was also a chief and a friend of my grandfather. I never knew my grandfather was that prominent in our town, and this gave me more confidence when I walked.

When I got home, I told my dad and grandfather what happened, and my grandfather became so angry that he continued asking for the boys' names even though I told him I didn't know. Till we left the following day, he said some guards followed us anywhere we went. The following day came very fast, and we left my grandfather's home for our own home. It was a great time with him, now that he is no more, I hope to do this with my dad and my children.

The End

Thanks for reading. My name is Fashtioluwa.

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