For the king alone do I tremble in fear: mighty is his majesty!"
As one, all the chiefs in the palace rose to their feet at the peremptory bidding of the king's drummer, who, with undaunted impetuosity dance walked behind and around the oba, furiously beating eulogies of the monarch that emerged from the inner chambers. He, the monarch, strode ahead of him with kingly gait looking indifferent as if totally unaware thatthe furore was all about him.
Kaabiyesi o!" and all the chiefs hugged the palace floor in prostration to the oba.
looking at the oba, standing completely erect were two individuals: an old man, and, beside him, holding his satchel, a youth, tall, looking straight at the oba almost with bravado. Both of them made an almost imperceptible gesture of salutation, which, almost as imperceptibly, the oba reciprocated. Neither the youth, nor the old man prostrated himself. The old man was the chief known as the Ojela, the former was his assistant and heir apparent: Okega. In the Owe kingdom, neither the Ojela, nor even members of his household prostrated themselves to the Olowe, for tradition had bestowed upon them the duty, nay, honour, of placing the crown on the head of any new Olowe. Without that crown, no Olowe was king.
The story of Okega began five years after his parents were married. They were without children. And so itwas that the head of the family dutifully led the way to the hills for sacrifices to the gods to please them or appease them in case of an unknown injury. When, years later, the couple had their first child, the prefix "Oke" meaning "The Hill" was placed before the name of the child, as indeed before every other name of every other child that they had to show their gratitude to the gods of the hills. The last child so named was Okega.
Okega's story begins to concern us when, one day it reached the ears of the Ojela that the unspeakable had occurred: Okega, heir to the Ojelaship, had accepted the religion of the hated Fulani people; he had become a Muslim!
How and why Okega became a Muslim has not been transmitted. But what happened later has been well conveyed. Okega forthwith began to expose the secrets of his ancestors' sacred cults of which he had been groomed to propagate and defend. He was tied up, about to be made a sacrifice to the gods. The people however feared his brother, Okenla, who was a high chief in the occult himself. And 50, bound, and with the judgement of death hanging over his head, Okega was thrown down in front of Okenla, his elder brother. "Here is your brother," they said to the silent Okenla, "He has joined the religion of the Fulani people. What shall we not do with him?" The elder brother shrugged his shoulders, and made a momentous pronouncement, "Uh hun!" What Okenla's response meant, none could fathom. For, even among a people accustomed to speaking with gestures, and looks, and grunts, that answer was capable of a dozen interpretations. The people left Okega bound and went away. My own story began eight years after Okega's first son, Mustafa, got married. He did not have any child. The whispers started. It was said that the gods were angry that Okega had abandoned them: they were taking vengeance. To open the wombs of Mustafa's wife, he had to go back to his ancestral gods and make atonement. The whispers had got to fever pitch. Some sang that hypocritical song of the companions of the Shaytan: your Islaam has no grudge against your tradition- do both and please your ancestors.
One day, just before the evening prayer, Okega walked into the homestead of his first son. "I have heard it said by the people that their gods are angry with you because I abandoned them." He turned to his son's wife. "What do you think of that?" Mustafa's wife shifted in her seat. "It is nottrue," she said. "As for that," said Okega, "it is true. If they had gods, then they would really be angry that I abandoned them. But we are Muslims: neither the anger of the people, nor that of their gods is of any concern to us. Now, the people l so say that it is because the gods are angry with me that you do not have a child. What do you think of that?"
Again, Mustafa's wife shifted in her seat. She cast a hasty glance at her husband. "It is not true," she said. "Perhaps we should say," said Okega, "that if the people and their gods had any power, they would desire that no Muslim should have any child at all, for the hatred they have for the Muslim burns them from within their souls. Alhamdulillah, and all praise is due to Allah thatthey have no power to even create a fly." Okega rose to his feet. The youth of yesteryears had become an old man.
"To believe in the empty threats of the unbelievers is itself a sin, speak less of accepting their terms: no one makes children except Allah. You see that big drum by the side of the mosque? Fill it, every salah time, with water. Show your gratitude to Allah. We worship Allah, whether He gives us children or not." Okega took his leave. Ten months later, a son was born to Mustafa. He was named • Abdul- 'Azeez.lt was thirty-three years later that' Abdul-Azeez himself took a wife, and I was born as their third child. My grandfather, Mustafa, named me Abdullahi. Achild of tawheed. We had moved from the hills of shirk, to worship the lord of the hills and the heavens and all that be. Alhamdulillah.
This article was culled from the publications of Deen Communication Limited