BOYS roamed and walked through jungle paths and mountain steeps. They charted through valleys, low grounds and plains.
Then they came to water and washed; caught fish, and shot stones at riverbirds.
They made constant fires to smoke their kills and provide warmth.
They passed several nights by rivers. Then they picked up to travel on...
They go on trekking for days and nights.
This was Moro, Oji and Daleka... youngest of the offspring of Dada. They had left the camp of their brothers as early as the first crow of that night they decided.
They were travelling far, facing the setting of the sun as they fled Ekiti.
They would roam water routes, traverse past the settlements of Ijẹsha Kingdom. As the people of Ijẹsha were fighters in the war.
Then they would travel past Ifẹ, as the town was already besieged by Ibadan troops.
They were in a desperate need. They wanted to be out of the warring kingdoms.
Yes, these were three young men who fled the flagrant show of black magic in slaughters...
Magical display which had never been heard of.
But Moro, Oji and Daleka fled a people of black powers aided by magic themselves.
For they wanted to be out of the war zone faster. So they carried juju to shorten the distance.
Now before it was the next moon, the sons of Dada had arrived at their dreamland.
It was a fairly new township created by the Empire of Ọyọ before it had waned in its strength.
Then, as a former colony of Oyo and its tribute settlement, it had stayed passive in the warfare. As Oyo itself played diplomacy with Ibadan, the new dominion.
And so, the young trio arrived at the newer place of Yoruba people. Some fifty miles west of their fatherland.
It was a new-found land called Ẹdẹ. It sat on the uphill side of a big river.
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Moro and his brothers came to the town of Ẹdẹ people... its first settlement far north of River Oshun.
Yes, the whole township was as quiet as the brothers thought. But the people of the town were nothing near peaceful.
They hated guests and visitors. They hated new settlers, too. And they couldn’t hide their fear of people.
Yes, the new land called every new person ‘Stranger’. And whoever they could handle, they showed hell.
Now this tough ground was where the sons of Dada came to. Built on a rocky steep as one walks a day journey from the riverside uphill.
But the townspeople of this former settlement of Ede knew themselves too well. So no newcomer could mingle with them and answer their name.
So, when Moro and his brothers came to the hill town, it didn’t take them so long to know they weren’t welcome.
They stood out in their way of talking and the way they see matters. So it wasn’t quite long before they heard the words, ‘Stranger! Go away, you stranger!’
The other settlement closer by – if they were to return and follow the trail of Oshun, was a place they wouldn’t dare to step a foot on.
It was Oshogbo, a town actively involved in the politics of war. And further from it was Ikirun, an ally to Ibadan. As well as the valley town where its warriors camped.
So, going near Oshogbo was to Moro’s company like walking into fire. It was like going back to war from which they had fled...
So they decided to stay in the new place.
Now the brothers decided to leave Ede Town for its annexed farms. The farmland where the farmers and their slaves grew things.
Yes, the farmland belonging to the townspeople was faraway in the hinterland...
The travelling group knew that the farm owners there would own large patches of cropland, with slaves who worked for them.
They also knew that their group of farmhouses might be headed by the ruler’s representative. As it was the custom among Yoruba people.
So the boys talked about this. And reasoned that the king’s man there could be able to lease out land to them if they were wealthy. Or make them work as slaves if they were paupers.
Yet these new settlers had no cowries to pay to start a farm. And they hated to slave there, too.
Even so, they reasoned that if they could avoid the whole townsfolk and go working in the farmsteads, then they would have their peace.
So they resolved to leave town for the farmlands. And earn their stay with humble worklife.
With this, the boys moved on. They walked down the steep and plunged in the wild.
They trudged the long footpath till they reached the farm huts.
They came to the farmland of a hostile village. And they didn’t want to be their slaves.
They wanted to live full lives like any son of the soil. Like any child of this earth.
They wanted to farm. And own land. And grow like the crops on a field.
Thus they moved in... three sons of an old man.
Three stalks from a lost root.
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