Her skin didn’t regrow because it was a wound from a powerful demon. She was able to escape but after the would healed, the deep mark remained. In his attempt to snatch her back, he left a long and deep wound at the center of her back. With all her strength she ran to her father’s house, but before she could open the door, one of the demons caught up with her. When she got to the last river before her village, she began to shout for help but no one listened to her. She ran with all the strength she had left. She turned on her heels and ran.ĭid they catch her? the child asked again, sleepily. That was when she realised what she had gotten herself into. She watched them coming towards her with sticks and knives. He called the other demons to come and celebrate his new bride with him. When they got to a hut at the center of the village, her handsome husband changed back into a demon, his five heads disjointed and looked like they would fall off from his body. He moved around Olaedo, sniffing at her and snickering, his long teeth moving up and down. The first living thing they encountered was a demon with three heads. Her charming husband wasn’t talking to her anymore and the journey had not ended. When they got to the fourth river, Olaedo began to get scared. The demon had crossed seven mountains and seven rivers to get to her. After the ceremony, it was time for the groom to take his bride home. He gave the young man her daughter’s hand. In the end, her father decided to let her be. Her family begged her not to marry him but she refused. Her father refused to give her hand in marriage but she insisted. She had finally found who she would like to marry. When he got to her father’s compound, Olaedo saw him and smiled. He changed himself into a very handsome man and set out for her village. He was fascinated and vowed to make her his bride. The tale about her beauty was so great that an evil demon who lived in a far land, away from people, heard about it. Her father tried everything in his power to make her choose one of the suitors but failed. Men from far and wide came to marry her, but she refused all of them. Every eligible young man wanted her as his bride. She was the most beautiful person in her village. Tell me so as to make me happy Long ago, the woman began, there lived a very beautiful girl. The child nodded and placed her head on the woman’s laps, anticipating the opening line. Would you like a story? she asked softly. She dropped it faced down on top of a small clay water pot, then pick the stool she had sat with beside the fire, dropped it on top of the mat and lowered herself on it. The child glanced at it and got a chuckle out of the woman as she rinsed the cup. She brought the cup to her lips, closed her eyes again and gulped all of it down. The child opened her eyes and stared at the brown liquid in front of her, prepared from herbs she hardly remember their names. She closed her eyes and began to sing along with the children. The child watched the woman pour some into a cup and set it down to cool. Your fever has broken but you’re not strong enough. Not tonight, she touched the child’s forehead. Can I go? the child asked, pointing to the direction of the noise. She dropped the small wooden bowl she was holding and walked towards the child, tying her loose wrapper over her breasts. She stared with longing at the full moon, listening to the full moon songs which were now higher and more intense. The child caught the strong fragrance and wrinkled her nose. A woman stirred the content of the pot, then placed a wooden spoon on top to prevent the boiling water from spilling over. At the far right of the smaller hut, fire burned slowly under a small pot, held steady by three large stones. She turned onto her stomach and propped her right arm under her chin. The biggest stood at the center, partially flanking the other. She was lying on a mat, made of raffia, in front of a small hut. The child murmured in her sleep, then opened her eyes, awakened by the shouts and songs of other children coming from the next compound. Any similarities in names and characters are pure coincidence. I retold it to suit my fancy but the original tale is still very much intact. I combined the folktale with my own story. It is familiar to the Igbo tribe of Eastern Nigeria. Most folktales have songs sang by the narrator and the children in-between the story. For this tale, the original narrator is unknown. The story could also be told in the safety of their homes by their parents. Sometimes, they make fire and sit around it. The children would gather and sit at the foot of the elderly man or woman, listening to the story. It is a story told by an older person to children especially on a night when the moon is high and bright in the sky. The story you are about to read is a folktale.
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