One of the Folklores That Shaped Who I Am.
(Saturday, May 11, 2024.)
In Nigeria, folklore is one of the unique and extinct cultures I wish would be resuscitated. Who should be blamed for the disappearance of our ancient heritage—the digital age or the parents who don’t reintroduce the concept to their children when they have the time?
I’ll lean more towards the parents.
One of my favorite folklores changed my life more than I expected. Only a few days ago did I realize it. I’m sure my mother knew what she was doing all along.
The kind of story that raises the hair on your skin, yet you wouldn't leave till you heard where it ended. It was one of my mother's ultimate parenting tools.
I remember it, just like yesterday, when we anticipated the rising of the moon to replace the sun in the sky. My sister would check for my mother and pull her to the sitting room. She sat on the couch, and we sat on the floor, right in front of her. We preferred that position. It gave us a clear angle to witness this story from a wonderful storyteller. The experience was similar to going to the movies.
My mother smiles each time, watching the three of us eagerly await what is in store for us. We had TV and phones but preferred the tale. It felt different. It felt real.
"I'll tell you about a boy who killed his best friend due to envy and what happened to him.".
The knee-hugging moment we've long awaited was about to start. I will place my head on my knee and not blink even once.
There was pin-drop silence. No one dared to move or make a sound, afraid she might change her mind. This was crucial to us, and we were thankful she introduced such a moment to us. This was our bonding session.
"In a faraway village, stuffed in between tall mountains, where everyone went on with their daily lives," she started.
We could hear the traditional drums eliciting soft thudding sounds, introducing the opening of a rural setting. Our brains projected it to suit our curiosities.
Gradually, we would fade into the story, assuming inanimate roles in the tale to follow it keenly. The serenity was perfect.
Dele was an eleven-year-old. He was brilliant, and people loved him in his little village. He has a best friend called Kiku, who is also eleven.
Kiku wasn't as friendly as Dele. He was rude, unhelpful, and not as smart as Dele. Hence, people preferred Dele to Kiku.
On a certain day, Dele and Kiku headed to the farm. It was their favorite place to be. Sometimes, they make stops at the large river that separates their village from the neighboring villages.
On this day, they weren't able to get to the river. When they got to a sugarcane farm, a cry of help alerted them. They detected the location and sprinted to the site. The chief's only daughter was hooked to a tree by a thick and crooked branch.
Dele and Kiku rescued her, returning her home to her father. The chief rewarded them in front of everyone by giving them baskets filled with yams of equal proportion.
The two boys were happy, but that soon changed for Kiku. He realized that no one had congratulated him. They only praised Dele. Even after a week, they still praised Dele.
Envy sowed a seed of disgust in Kiku, and he decided to get rid of his best friend. Only then would they acknowledge him too, so he thought.
On another normal day, Dele and Kiku went to the farm again. This time, they made it to the river bank.
"Kiku, why don't we catch a fish each and roast it by the river bank? We could find fruits later. What do you say?" the plain-minded Dele suggested. Kiku didn't refuse; he didn't think there was anything Dele could possibly do to trigger his envy in the process.
We, the listeners, thought so too, but we thought wrong.
The two boys pulled off their tops, leaving them in their shorts, and they went into the river where the current was lower.
Kiku was the first to emerge with a successful catch. The tilapia was just a tad bit bigger than a sardine. He waited for Dele to bring his catch.
Not long after, Dele surfaced with a big catfish, about the size of an adult rabbit. Dele was excited, but Kiku was not.
"Can you see the size of this fish? It's huge. I have a better idea. Let's eat your tilapia and sell this catfish at a market. We will share the money and buy what we want with it," Dele suggested again, and Kiku, once again, agreed.
Dele sat down to roast the fish, and Kiku went into the farm to fetch palm fronds. That was the agreement, only for Kiku to return with a branch and strike the unsuspecting Dele at the back of the head.
After a second strike, the boy died. Kiku buried his friend by the river bank, roasted and ate the tilapia, and packed the catfish to take home. He still planned to sell it, but all the gains would be his.
He returned to the village and vowed not to have seen Dele. His parents searched every nook and cranny but couldn't find Dele.
Meanwhile, Kiku had gone to the market to sell the catfish. On his way back home, he felt a little stomach upset but paid it no mind.
When he got home, he heard singing. After realization hit him, he noticed the song came from his stomach. The song told his secrets, and he couldn’t silence them.
And it goes:
Call: Kíkúmápamí o,
Response: Èrùjèjè
Call: Kíkúmápamí o,
Response: Èrùjèjè
Call: Òré e ni mo jé o
Response: Èrùjèjè
Call: Mo fi nú tán e ò
Response: Èrùjèjè
Call: Kíni moshe fún o
Response: Èrùjèjè
Call: Oko eja là wá re
Response: Èrujèjè
Call: Èmi sì lo wá pa o
Response: Èrùjèjè
Call: Òre ni mó bá o she
Response: Èrùjèjè
Call: Kíkúmápamí o
Response: Èrùjèjè
(Translation)
Call: Kiku, don't kill me
Response: Terror/fright.
Call: Kiku, don't kill me
Response: Terror/fright.
Call: I am your friend
Response: Terror/fright
Call: I trusted you
Response: Terror/fright.
Call: What did I do to you?
Response: Terror/fright.
Call: We only went fishing.
Response: Terror/fright.
Call: I was the one you killed.
Response: Terror/fright.
Call: I was only a good friend to you.
Response: Terror/fright.
Call: Kiku, don't kill me.
Response: Terror/fright.
Day and night, his stomach kept singing. It also protruded more than normal. His parents took him to the wise sage in their village, and the old wise man asked Kiku to confess what he did to his best friend.
In pain, Kiku did it without leaving any details. The old man explained that the fish he ate was the singer who decided to punish him for betraying a friend.
To relieve Kiku of his pain, he was asked to dance to the song, with the protruding belly and his shirt off, around the market square three times for three days.
After then, he was relieved of his burden, but the shame made him hide inside his house every day.
My mother would look at us, a hint of seriousness flashing across her eyes.
"Never envy anyone to the point of taking their life. Be kind to people so that they will reciprocate it. Otherwise, the consequences are dire.".
Her words sent shivers down our spines. None of us wanted to end up like Kiku. Not only because we didn't want to shed blood, but having a fish sing inside of you is a terrifying experience.
Personally, I think this reformed my mentality about how I perceive other people's success and not get envious.
I ensured to be a good person so that people would celebrate my success and I would celebrate theirs. Thanks to my mother and folklore.
I wrote this when there was a downpour; it arose memorial effects, just as it does when my mother says it.
