Akande Agan

I had hoped the first yams would live up to its reputation.

Every market day, before my capture, Akande Agan’s wives would brag about his first yams. Haughtily walking through the market clad in their expensive aso-oke, they let their hips swing and beads rattle while they sang praises hips of their husband’s first yams.

Yet, only three people truly knew how those yams tasted. Akande Agan and his wives. I was none of those. I was too skinny and my face too forgetful to ever be noticed by such a man.

Still, I found my way into Akande Agan’s household and here I was, chewing bitter yams. My feet lay flat on the cold mud floor as I stared unblinkingly at the oil lamp hanging from an unevenly patched wall. Only my jaws moved as I chewed, waiting for sweetness to kick in.

Warm palm oil snaked its way from between my slender fingers and down my arm, creating a blood-like path. The only sound in the hut was the wheezing.

“Err-eeerr”

I closed my eyes, attempting to shut out everything. Maami always said to experience the beauty of food, one must leave the other senses behind and let the palate lead. So I kept my eyes closed but the wheezing… the wheezing just wouldn’t stop.

I kept my eyes shut. Maybe if I waited a little while longer…

“Err-eeerr-e-eerr”

I let out a groan and parted my eyelids. My irritated gaze moved to the fat man on the floor. The dagger lodged in his side was just enough to paralyze him but not enough to kill him. Blood spurted from the gash and ran down his side to form a little pool.

“Dake!”, I hissed. And for a brief moment, surprise flashed across his dying eyes.

I almost cackled. I had delivered death to his door but my insubordination was more astonishing? I gently removed the oil lamp and started my slow short walk to the man as a smile spread across my candle-lit face.

Akande Agan, The Powerful.

The man no one dared to question. Whose cages were brimming with slaves, barns bursting with yams, grouds overflowing with the finest palmwine. But without the excessive yards of agbada and strings of beads, Akande Agan was nothing but a pudgy man with the body of a graceless elephant. My smile was replaced by disgust.

Before Akande Agan sold his female slaves to the pale-skinned men from beyond the water, they’d be dolled up and taken to his chambers to be raped.

Today, it was my turn.

My ankle beads shook slightly as I closed the gap between us, the wheezing had slowed. His pleading eyes followed me as I crouched and held the yam to his face.

“Ko tie dun”.

He widened his mouth to respond and I pushed the yam down his throat and watched him choke until his body relaxed.

Leaving the lamp by his side, I walked over to the brown mat where I was to lose my virginity and peeled off my clothes with the grace of a new bride. Outside, I could hear the pale-skinned men speak their language with a tone that suggested urgency.

I knelt on the mat until I finally heard the knock. With a voice filled with honey, I beckoned, “Wole”.

There he was, my new master, with the skin of a bleached bird, scanty golden hair, and a nose which was clearly too thin to let in any air. His surprised gaze went from Akande Agan’s stiff old body to my supple naked one.

My smile started to come back as I wondered if he had the same red blood running down Akande Agan’s side.

Image Credit: Baba Aminu

Kalawa Store.