NOW time passed and seasons circled. And it was the wake of the 1900’s – a brand new century.
The brothers of Moro had married wives, and they had settled in town. But Moro was often on the farm as he’d gotten no one to call family.
Moro was in his thirties; so it had seemed his time was fast passing.
And even though the folk then didn’t calculate their years; and though it would take future records to reveal time in hindsight—
The man had gotten a form that made him look ten years younger.
And still, not only would anybody take him as far younger; but even Moro thought that he was, actually.
For he hadn’t quite realised that life was passing.
So here again, time had passed into a brand new era. There were more strangers passing by, who weren’t Yoruba people.
They had pale skins and wore their hairs in dark and pale.
They rode beasts with iron bodies. Huge beasts which wouldn’t gallop nor leap—beasts which crawled on four big hoofs.
They were the colonial people.
Now time had turned with the dawn of a new century. But Moro was soon back on his initial burden.
The burden of finding a good wife.
So, a day came when he went back home to rest, and he met a young beautiful woman. Her name was Wura.
No, Moro didn’t have to do so much to win the lady’s heart. For he swept her off-balance just at the first sight.
Even so, the young man had a concern. He was quite a bit bothered that Wura might turn out like Adukẹ, if he told her where he hailed from.
For Wura began to ask questions about her man few days into their courting time.
Now Moro hesitated to tell the young maiden. But his hesitation only made her go on.
Moro thought about a response. And one day he spoke without her asking.
‘My family is royalty,’ he said. ‘But sadly, we are no more royals. We cannot be king anymore.
‘We were among the ruling dynasties in Ede. But that was before the town moved down here.
‘Now you see, a big clash broke out long time ago. It was a struggle for power among all the royal dynasties.
‘But my family is a reasonable clan – we love peace more than anything. So we simply let go of our royal status, and decided to farm.
‘So today, we live and prosper in the town. But we don’t want anyone to start a rebellion! We don’t like anybody fighting for us. So don’t tell any soul this!
‘See, I am the oldest surviving male... still I’m truly content with my life. Now don’t tell anybody these things!’
The lady felt so touched at those words. So touched she pitied Moro.
She wondered what her man’s family must have been through then, to leave him as the last one standing.
Then she pitied him again.
Yes, she thought of him as a fated hero who survived a dreadful fall.
She called him a struggler, a fighter, and everything dogged and strong.
That day Wura’s heart was taken over by the ‘stranger’. For she gazed up at her hidden prince and promised to keep him hers.
So, Moro took home the beautiful young maiden. And their family was formed at the wake of the new century.
It was the 1900’s.
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