“It is not expensive; you definitely said you are looking for a place that is not expensive”, Falana told him.
“Yes I did say that, but I certainly didn’t say I was looking to live in a dunghill”, Yomi affirmed.
“Okay, I will look for something else”, Falana told him as they returned to the car.
“How soon will this be? My need is rather urgent”, Yomi reminded.
“As soon as I am able to find another, I will let you know. I will need to talk to some landlords. But you know, because you are stranger in this place, the landlords may not be so willing, which makes my work much more difficult”, Falana told him, successfully making Yomi feel like he was the reason why he might not be able to find a house.
Falana promised to again call him next day as Yomi dropped him off at his office. Yomi knew of course that Falana was unlikely to call because next day was Sunday. He returned to the hotel, unable to get over the disappointment he felt. He sat for a while in the hotel bar, ordered a bottle of beer which he drank quickly. He fetched a book from the box in the boot of his car, and then bought another beer which he decided to take to his room.
The title of the book was Eegun Alare, and it was written in Yoruba. It told the story of an itinerant performing masquerade, an Eegun Alare , who left his town in search of fame and fortune; both of which he eventually found. However, he meets with disaster when a magic trick goes wrong and he find self unable to change back from the crocodile which he turned himself into, because raindrops fell on him, and this was a taboo. Yomi could only read the story half way this time before he had to lay it down. Reading Yoruba as an adult was somehow no more easy to do for him; which was quite strange since as a child he read stories in that language without any difficulty at all. This one was written in verse, which made it even more difficult to read.
He though the story of Eegun Alare resonated well with his personal quest. He also left familiar home grounds in search of a new beginning. He wasn’t an itinerant performer like Ojelade the masquerade, but he was nevertheless also in search of bigger achievements. Ojelade was a master of his art though, while he was still floundering and yet in search of himself.
Beyond the mysticism which accompanied Ojelade’s quest, he would recognise that dance still remained the foundation skill of the typical itinerant performing masquerade. Baba Lamidi’s Osumare Troupe was the most awesome dance Yomi had ever seen. Seven costumed acrobats and dancers completely arrested the attention of the spectators for nearly a full hour, and still at the end of it all, the audience were sorry to see them leave. A news reporter attempted to interview Baba Lamidi after the performance, but this never happened. Baba seemed more insulted than happy that his skill could be considered of mere entertainment value. On this day though, the leader of the drummers, a young man whose name was Ayankunle, was too happy to be interviewed instead.
“The drums have voices of their own; individually and collectively. If you don’t understand the language of the Bata drums, it is impossible to dance to it.”, Ayankunle mentioned in the interview, and that quote haunted Yomi for days. He was sufficiently intrigued, to again go in search of Baba Lamidi a few weeks later. This time he felt like there was nothing more desirable to him than learning how those drums spoke. He came visiting Ijebu-Jesa midweek and found Baba Lamidi at a game of Ayo in the courtyard in front of his house. Yomi recognised his game opponent as Ayankunle, the drummer who stood for him at the interview.
He was grateful and happy that Baba Lamidi still remembered him, after he introduced himself, mentioning the Heritage Theater.
“I want to learn the language of the drums. Can you possibly teach me?” Yomi quite nearly blurted out. He was discomfited by Ayankunle’s persistent stare at his legs; and apparently the young man doubted that the limp in Yomi’s leg could be an asset to anyone at all. Baba Lamidi also appeared trying to find the kindest reply to give this young fool from the city.
“What you have asked from me is like the head of an elephant. It is too heavy for a child to carry”, Baba Lamidi told him, very amused.
“Yes I do realize that, but when a burden is too heavy for a child to carry, he calls on his father for help; and that is why I am here” Yomi reverently replied . Baba Lamidi nodded his head wisely.
“And why do you choose to carry this particular burden?” Baba Lamidi again asked.
“I have been in the Heritage Theater for nearly two years. I have seen dance of almost every type, but I must say I have ever seen anything like your troupe does, and that is why I am here.” Yomi replied.
“Is that so?” Baba Lamidi seemed flattered.
“Yes, after watching you, my heart told me there is a destiny in this for me. I want to know the language of the drums”. , Yomi persisted
“Okay I will do as you wish; but how much are you willing to pay for this?” Baba Lamidi laughed. Yomi remembered that Ayankunle mentioned during his interview, that Baba ran a school. Not quite a formal school, but a rigorous and dedicated apprenticeship.
“I am willing to pay the price” Yomi eagerly said, sure that whatever the amount was, could not be beyond his means, considering that this town was far from being a place which regularly accommodated the wealthy.
“I shall think about it. I also want you to go away and also think about it” Baba told him. Yomi sat with them for a couple of hours more, enjoying the banter , sharing with them, the keg of palm wine which he had very thoughtfully bought on his way, as a gift to Baba Lamidi. He watched the game that was in progress and at which the younger man Ayankunle, was unhappy to be constantly losing.
By next morning, and after returning to Ibadan, Yomi agreed with himself that travelling to Ijebu-Jesa every weekend was indeed an impractical and ridiculous thought.
But now back again in Ijebu-Jesa and not about to leave for some time, the quest became again reawakened. He could once more clearly hear the voice of the Bata drums. Only he did not yet understand.
CHAPTER 3
On Monday morning, Yomi drove to Maven Private School, the school which employed him to teach English. The school was accommodated in three storey high buildings arranged around about a five thousand square yard quadrangle of lush green field. .The principal, Mrs Adele Obembe, a pleasant woman of about fifty was very pleased to see him.
“I hope you don’t have to travel from Ibadan every morning”, she jested.
“Not at all. I arrived on Friday and I am presently staying in a hotel”, Yomi laughed.
“Good gracious! That must be very expensive “, Mrs Obembe was genuinely horrified.
“I really don’t have an alternative yet. I asked an estate agent to find me a flat but he is yet to do that. He promised to call “, Yomi also regretted.
The principal took Yomi around the school and introduced him to the rest of the staff. Yomi asked to take two days off to resolve his accommodation issue and Mrs Obembe was pleased to oblige.
Falana had not called him on Sunday, nor this morning. Yomi phoned him to ask how he was getting on.
“I have not yet found a place which fits your requirement. Please have a little more patience”, Falana explained with what Yomi suspected was contrived sadness. Yomi was dismayed. He often heard a lot about this sort of swindle but never thought it could ever happen to him. This morning his heart told him that he had thrown away three thousand Naira.
Not sure of what to do next, he went looking again for Baba Lamidi. He remembered that the lady he’d previously met told him Baba Lamidi was expected back on Sunday, which was the previous day. Baba Lamidi was about to leave home when Yomi arrived.
“Alakowe, you have come again?” Baba Lamidi was surprised to see him. Yomi was delighted that this old man whom he hadn’t seen in eight years still remembered him. Alakowe was a generic reference to a young scholar, and depending on how much mischief the speaker had in mind, it could be spoken in endearment or as a cloaked insult.
“I am pleased that you still remember me Baba. I am not Alakowe, I am your son” Yomi laughed.
“Okay, my son, what is your mission this time?” Baba asked.
“Nothing specific, Baba. I have just come to say hello. I was here two days ago, but a young lady I met here told me you’d gone away on a journey”, Yomi told him.
“Oh, it was you that came looking for me. My daughter told me about it. . What is so important that has kept you here for three days then? Don’t tell me you came all the way from Ibadan just to say hello”
“I have been given a job in this town as a teacher. I will be here for a while; I don’t know for how long”
“Is that so? That is wonderful. I will see you later then, because I am now on my way to my farm. We old people need to get out of the house as often as possible , otherwise Death will soon come calling while you are lying down and doing nothing”, Baba told him .
“Can I come along with you?” he asked, seizing an excellent opportunity to relate more closely with Baba Lamidi.
“You think you are able to do that? You people from the city can barely stay thirty minutes on your feet” Baba chuckled.
“In that case, will you kindly permit me to surprise you?” Yomi promised.
“As you wish then”, Baba replied, shrugging frail shoulders.
“How will you get to farm? How do you usually go there?” Yomi asked
“Usually, Atanda drives me in my car .But today the car has a problem starting, so we aim to just take a bus to the highway and then walk the rest of the way. It is good exercise”, Baba said. A young fellow standing behind him nodded. He had the eager look of a school child on his way to a fun excursion.
“Let me take you there in my car”, Yomi offered.
“That is very generous of you. You are so kind”, Baba thanked him.
The journey was short. It took less than ten minutes to arrive at the footpath leading from the highway, to Baba Lamidi’s farm. From there, they began the long walk. Yomi and Baba Lamidi conversed as they walked. While Atanda quietly followed behind.
Yomi spoke enthusiastically of his experience at the Heritage Theater Project .Baba listened attentively, humming and nodding his head. He also spoke of his future project plans now that the Heritage Theater was in trouble; principal of which was to have his own stage and film production enterprise. The chat broke the monotony of their journey. Yomi reckoned they must have walked about a quarter of a mile through semi-forest before they arrived at Baba Lamidi’s farm,
