Èṣù IV - Adekunle

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Adekunle

I can only see half of her face without risking too much.

I study her slightly curved nose, the angular jaw that jutted out proudly and the downturned lips. Adufe’s face stayed stoic but her thick dark lashes dart up and down, following the bata dancers that whirled around the circle. A slender hand rests softly on her waist while the other holds a basket obscured from my view.

From her subtly tilted form, I can tell the basket is heavy but other than the small ileke shack, I had not seen Adufe buy anything from the market. One of the bata dancers leaps high into the air and I watch Adufe’s face follow him. The sun catches her cheekbone and it glints in the sunlight. I close my eyes and think of how she might smell tonight. Cocoa butter? Coconut oil? Shea butter? It is difficult to tell. 

Her dark plump lips part slightly to let in a small gasp as the dancer hits the ground with a thud. As he continues his performance, Adufe studies his legs as though trying to memorise the steps. The dancing slows and I retreat further behind the stall. She shifts the basket to her right side to relieve her body and it comes into full view. I see green and yellow plantains.

My brain immediately begins to make deductions. She did not buy this bunch from the market. Where did she get them? Where was she going? I had followed her long enough to know food items in Adufe’s basket on a market day spelt doom.

The last market day suddenly flashed before my eyes. Koledowo. 

My mind goes back to the heavy grunts in the forest that night. Koledowo’s body moved above Adufe’s a few times before his carnal grunts suddenly switched to a sharp gasp. I sucked in my breath as I watched her push a silver dagger into his back.

Koledowo grabbed her neck, trying to strangle her, as she stabbed him repeatedly. His grip soon eased and he fell on top of her. They both stayed under the stars for a few seconds, like new lovers. 

She finally crawled from under him and yanked the wrapper she had spread out on the forest floor. Elegantly donning her buba and iro and carefully pulling out twigs from her hair, she ignored Koledowo’s weak groans.

She turned and admired herself before she dragged his body to a tree and tied him up. And then, she sat on a tree stump, directly before him and roasted a single tuber of yam.

The earth whetted its appetite with the blood that ran down Koledowo’s side, preparing for his body and Adufe enjoyed the show. She stretched her long smooth legs before her and leaned back with her eyes closed, satisfactorily swaying her head to music nobody could hear. Occasionally, she stopped to bite some yam before she resumed her slow, delicious sway.

Only when the sun started to peak from the skies did Adufe’s eyes become serious. She made her way to Koledowo’s limp body and ….

...

A loud shriek disrupts my thoughts and I am brought back. A short rotund girl leaps into the circle to embrace the bata dancer who had caught Adufe’s eye. He catches her, lifting her to come slightly above him. She enjoys this attention a little too much and stays in his arms, long enough to make the other young women jealous. 

Adufe, like the others, watches them but unlike those who showed their displeasure at this public display, Adufe shows no emotion.

She leaves the show and heads for the meat stall. Baba Akanmu’s meat is said to be the worst in the village. If the flies swarming around his slabs of beef isn’t enough to discourage anyone, the foul odour certainly is.

Baba Akanmu, pleasantly surprised and flattered, touches his slabs of beef eagerly and Adufe points a slender, well-manicured, finger at a rotting one. Baba Akanmu hesitates for a few seconds before he starts to cut it up. He wraps it in a banana leaf and places it in her basket.

Adufe points to a small piece of cow tongue behind Baba Akanmu and as he turns, she slips his curved dagger into her wrapper. Baba Akanmu wraps the small piece in another banana leaf and it joins the first wrap in her basket.

With that, she leaves the market. Only a few steps outside the market square, she suddenly turns and looks straight in my direction. I duck behind the yams but still feel her stare burning into me. She stays like this for a few seconds before she turns around and walks away. The sweat running down the side of my face drops on the sheathed dagger in my hand. 

Iya Abeni, a stern-looking woman, suddenly brings her large form directly in front of me. 

“You have been holding that knife like an imbecile, won’t you cut the sacks I am paying you for?”

I lower myself to the ground and continue cutting the sacks. And as I cut, the brown sacks quickly transform into the gleaming black skin of a young woman.

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