ORUN - THE ELDERS

Ek'abo Ebi! (Welcome Family!)

It’s nice to connect with you all once more.  Before I continue Ekundayo’s story I thought this would be a good time to give you a little background on the awọn àgba, elders.  Ayotunde, Folami and Temitope were sent to Aye, Earth, to bring together the people of the Ina and the awọn dudu.  Olodumare, the high god, wanted to strengthen their belief in him.  But he also wanted to develop their respect for one another and unify them as a people.

In order to do this, they would need leadership and purpose.  The high god believed that the sisters Ayotunde, Folami and Temitope were the perfect solution.  He knew that such an undertaking could not be done by one individual.  The time it would take to reach such a goal was unknown.  And the connection between the sisters was unbreakable.  This bond would help keep them on the right path.  Olodumare saw the road ahead, and he knew it would not be easy for his people or the goddesses. 

On the night of the harvest moon, the high god called upon the goddesses. “Arábìnrin, sisters, I call upon you for a great task.  I am giving you an opportunity to mold and shape what could become a great civilization.  The Ina and the awọn dudu are capable of becoming more together than they ever will apart.  But they need direction and guidance; a strong belief in their gods and themselves.

“We are humbled by the responsibility you have bestowed upon us.” said the eldest Ayotunde.  “But what of our duties?” continued Temitope.  “What of those who we have led, the ones whose goals are just within their reach?” whispered Folami.  “You have done all you can do for them.” responded the high god.  “Their paths are set. Not even I can change them.” he smiled.  “For centuries you’ve taken it upon yourselves to give our people a better future.  I now place a new burden upon your shoulders.”

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For the first twenty years, the sisters worked diligently to bring the tribes together.  Where there was war, there was peace.  Where there was hate, bloomed respect. Where there was poverty, grew wealth.  Within fifty years, the Ina and awọn dudu realized how much they could benefit one another. That knowledge brought with it a greater respect for the Orisa.  They realized through the teaching of the sisters (who were now elders) that their prosperity could not have occurred if it wasn’t for the high god. 

Olodumare was moved by the acknowledgement he received from his people.  Not just for him but for the other Orisa as well.   His people would pass on their knowledge, teaching their children about the Orisa.  A new cycle had begun, one that would not be easily broken.  A strong belief in something they could not see; recognition of faith.

The sisters had more than accomplished the goals set before them by the high god.  Each wondered why they were still on Aye.  They decided to present their concerns before the high god. Decades of exposure to their people, to their emotions, to their life experiences had begun to change the sisters in ways they did not understand.  They desperately missed their kin and wanted to return to their realm.

One hundred years to the day, the sisters found themselves before the high god once more.

“Praise Almighty Olodumare!” bellowed Folami respectfully.  She was no longer the quiet goddess of the past.  “We have more than fulfilled the goal you set before us.” continued Ayotunde. “Tell us high god, when do we return home?” questioned Temitope.  After a moment of silence, the high god responded, “I’m sorry my sisters, but you will not.”

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Join me next week!  I look forward to sharing more of “Orun” with you. 

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For all of you who have been visiting my blog each week, I greatly appreciate it.  I hope that you’ll continue to do so.  But I would really love to see more of your comments. Whether it is today’s post or entries in the past.  Tell me what you think of the direction I’ve taken so far or any thoughts or suggestions you may have J

 

Mari e laipe!

See you soon!

 

S-

 

RED LEAF INSPIRATION - PART 2

Ek'abo Ebi! (Welcome Family!)

 

After many years of anticipation, the family and I finally made it to Niagara Falls. 

It is absolutely breathtaking.  I bet that most Canadians have become jaded when it comes to seeing the “Falls”, but I don’t believe I ever would.  It’s a bit overwhelming being that close to such a powerful body of water.  The effect is very different from being at say Virginia Beach and the railings that warn of danger to the fools’ stupid enough to attempt to go over, didn’t seem tall enough. But they were. J  The closer we got to the water, the colder it got.  I can’t begin to imagine what it’s like over there during the dead of winter. SHIVERRR!!! Spring at the “Falls” is tolerable, but my hands pretty much cramped up when I took pictures of the fam. Father Winter still rules in Canada.

 

When I looked down to where the water fell, I felt like I was in an episode of National Geographic.  Below was one of the biggest blocks of ice I have EVER seen.  I compare it to a giant glacier at the North Pole.  (No I’ve never been there LOL, but that’s the best I can do.) With everything that we saw there, one thing that stood out was the thunderous sound of the “Falls” as they hit the water below.  As caught up as I was with god’s spectacle, I still managed to think of the story I created last week. “Orun”.

As I mentioned, both tribes (the Ina and awọn dudu) believe that a deity carved steps into the side of the mountain with his finger but took it away when the tribe members stopped worshipping him. When you visualize such a scene, what comes to mind?  Here’s my vision:

 

It has been over 200 years since the destruction of Mount Ase. It is said that the gods were angry and took back their gift because we were not grateful for all they gave to us.  As a result, they took away our light.  The awọn àgba, elders, have shared and passed on this story with the hope that our people will one day search for the light once more.  I have never believed in the existence of a colored shape that gives heat.  My life, my world, consists of never ending gloom and a cold, unyielding sky.

These thoughts that I have, take so much energy from me.  Instead of suffering through the monotony of my life, I could be sleeping, dreaming of a better place.  If there is such a thing as day and night, I have never experienced it.  I sleep not because it is dark, but because my body tells me when to rest.

 

But when the elders describe what once was, a story that has been passed down through generations, I can almost visual it.  The clouds above us part. Bright beams of light cut through the gloom and return life back to our frigid land.  As I know such a thing will never happen, I can only see their past through their eyes.

 

The elders have demanded our appearance and attention.  Their word is law.  We celebrate (or they celebrate, our past). My children, who have energy to spare, run ahead of me to get the best seats. My people gather around a colossal tree that has grown so high that it is the only thing that has ever reached beyond the clouds.  Its limbs are as bare as my skin and yet it stubbornly holds on to life. 

 

My children want to be as close to the elders as possible.  It is said that they are of magic.  The children swear that they can see pictures each time the elders share their story.  My little one said that “the shape was a color called yellow and the ground was a color called green.” She said that, “there were trees that bared a thing called fruit and if you tilted your head up towards the sky, you could feel warmth on your face.”

 

It vexed me to hear my daughter talk in such away.  In my heart, I felt that the elders were wrong to tell such stories to our children. To give them hope where there was none.  When I look up, all I see is where the mountain ends and the sky begins.  My eldest daughter is disappointed in me.  “She asks, “How can you see what we see, when you do not believe?”

 

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Fam, I’m looking forward to hearing from you. If you were an elder of a tribe of people, how would you keep the history of your people alive?  How would you tell your story? I would love to hear it! Come on by next week as I continue. J

Mari e laipe!
See you soon!
 

S-

 

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Thanks for visiting ‘Amachi is Hope.’ If you were inspired or felt a connection with today’s blog (or any of my previous entries) please leave a comment. J