"Tomosóko (Yellow sun) II"

Written by

All of the long straggling people-shrouded earth is Ayetoro. The tumult of the market went like confused radio waves and stammered life down the leaping hills. Koyi turned around and was looking at a tall sallow-skinned man. His still presence was half-hidden in the sprawling path. It summoned a strangeness for Koyi. She took her time catching the many disappearing glimpses and was, at once, surprised by something that hurled her back to the noise.

‘What was all that for?’ voice when it drew, musical and wary, was God-Trouble. ‘And I hope all that staring will not bring with it questions.’

She laughed for a moment. She was surprised she did. Had she not, a moment ago, felt assuaged by a faceless form? Had she not just seen someone who was not there; or perhaps, something that had been and now was not? Somehow the light words of Bodun had crushed the unease that lodged.

Some women with half-loose wrappers were sweeping piles of dried grapes. Boys were carrying burnt motorcycle tyres and some of them were whistling past. Amid this indifferent human stream, she felt consciousness, felt they were at that same spot again and she discreetly battled the silence.

She wanted Bodun to know that she was pleased to have his shadow cast upon her eyes, to say she was grateful that he was there even if it had meant that he tumbled down the paths to see her. She wanted to tell him that she finally dreamt of him, but the words that came out were, ‘Grapes are finally growing.’

‘They came too late this year,’ Bodun said

‘Well, still thank the gods that they did.’

He was gazing right at her braid-lined chest. He was very close. His voice was so unquestioning she loved that he was talking with her, loved his familiar friendship. When the following day came, she took baked beans wrapped in green leaves to him. He mended her cracked water pot the next day; and the day after, they talked again and again, walking about the forest’s curly banks.

That evening, Bodun’s mother stopped him by his low eaves, terrified and asking if he knew the girl he was seeing; if he knew what she meant; if he knew the silent stranger who stood in front of his shed today. ‘He looked like he had come to find a debtor than to see a friend!’

Bodun had crossed her, saying nothing, believing she would do nothing. And so when, the following week, she had entered Koyi’s compound, shouting her mother’s name to tame her daughter, loosening and re-tightening her wrapper and saying, ‘Did she not know that Koyi was betrothed to an evil spirit?’; Bodun had felt insulted. He was going to clench his teeth and throw his clothes on. He was going to hurry from his door down the road, past the crowd into Koyi’s hut, and ignore the blaring woman.

He reached out and smoothed her hair. She was veiled, sobbing in the half light of the room. Suddenly, she looked at Bodun and said, ‘Mother left for the shrine just now. The priests will take you away. Follow me and let us leave here.’

‘Where to?’ he asked, slightly hesitant, slightly surprised.

‘I know a shed in the forest and there is soil to reap and grow,’ they were looking at each other silently and it felt like she had cried all of her life.

‘There is enough to keep us for days,’ she said.

Some hours later, he had swooped Koyi on his back like an eager infant when their journey reached the middle of the forest and they were laughing loudly through the low tree branches until they saw the hill, and then the farmhouse, the gaunt shed posed like a sacred dot on the horizon. Dusk had risen in the clouds, like skinny yams.

That evening, Koyi was joyful for a quite a while. She watched her fingers curl around Bodun’s and felt something sizzle on the top of her mind, something like soapy water. That evening, Bodun took his morsels quicker and she watched. He left the hut early to make hay for the leaking roof. That evening, the sun was yellow again and Koyi, alone, watched it waver. For a slow dubious moment, it was there, and then it was not. There was a sudden lumpy darkness everywhere. And it was everywhere that Koyi searched. It was everywhere that Koyi called out ‘Bodun!’, a shaky sorrow in her voice. It was everywhere that she thought her love had stood still; for there was a still presence in every path. She felt it, but her love had dissolved with it.