The Witch, the Warrior and the Wedding

TITILÁYỌ̀ The banging of drums sank Titi’s heart in sorrow. The atmosphere was festive. Everywhere she looked, there was celebration. Glittering Àṣọ Òkè rippled beneath the afternoon sun. Women sat beneath decorated canopies, their elaborate gèlès rising above their heads like crowns, while men in magnificent àgbàdá gathered in clusters, speaking loudly over the drums and laughter. Servants squeezed between them with food in calabashes and trays, while children darted between the adults. An irritated Ìyá Adùnní, caught one by the ear and dragged him away. Titi stood among them all. It was as though she had been transported into another world. A world in which everyone was happy. Everyone except her. Her eyes surveyed the gathering.There was no way Ramon the Red wound not register in her vision. She shivered. He drowned as always in red She glimpsed the Àlàáfìn seated beneath an embroidered canopy, surrounded by attendants and elders. She looked every bit the ruler of Walia despite the weariness etched beneath her eyes. Her garments were simplistically regal, though nowhere near as extravagant as Ronke’s. Beside her sat the young princess, whose gèlè appeared almost too heavy for her head. A servant remained at her side, occasionally adjusting the cloth whenever it threatened to slip. Beside her sat her elder brother, the crown prince.Titi remembered what Yetunde had whispered to her about him, why his friendship with Wale ended. She found it hard to believe that such a dignified personality would stoop to such depravity. Then she noticed. He was supposed to be watching the ceremony. Instead, his eyes wandered. First, they touched one woman. He licked his lips. Then his eyes shifted to another. Again, he moistened his lips. Then another. And another. And another, until almost all the young women had been touched by his gaze. Titi caught him staring at a particularly beautiful young woman across the gathering. He quickly looked away when the woman noticed him. Titi almost smiled. Almost. The drums began again. Titi looked towards the altar. Ronke was there. Her sister looked magnificent. Blue and gold covered her from head to ankle. Her jewelry glistened whenever she moved, and her heavy gèlè cast a shadow across her face. She looked like exactly what she had always wanted to become. A bride. A beautiful bride. Wale's bride Titi swallowed. Ronke looked up. Their eyes met. Titi expected hatred. Instead, Ronke smiled. Wale’s bride rose and walked towards her. Titi remained still as her sister approached. Ronke reached out and took her hand. “My sister,” she said warmly. “I’m glad you came.” Titi stared at her. There was something strange about the words. An insult wouldn’t have hurt as much as this. “Thank you,” Titi managed. Ronke squeezed her hand before returning to the ceremony. Titi watched her go. Then she felt a hand slip into hers. She turned. Ìyá Bísí stood beside her. The older woman smiled. “I am proud of you,” she said. Titi looked at her. “For what?” “For coming.” Titi lowered her gaze. “I had to.” “No,” Ìyá Bísí replied. “You wanted to.” Titi said nothing. Another hand caught hers. Bísí's expression was different. Her eyes were almost burning, not from anger. She was disappointed. “You are a fool,” she whispered. Titi frowned. “What?” “A fool.” Bísí glanced towards Wale.Titi's eyes followed hers He stood near the altar, conversing with the elders while his men surrounded him. He looked magnificent in his ceremonial attire. A bright, glistening blue àgbàdá, his blue beads dragging his locks through the heavy fìlà. Blue beads dangled from his neck. Lekan adjusted his Agbada every now and then like a careful artist. Yetunde stood sentry in her beautiful iro and buba. Titi had heard from Lekan that Yetunde rarely wore women's clothes. She always preferred to be dressed for battle. Titi thought the dress suited her rather well “You let your sister have him,” Bísí said, her voice angry. “He is not mine to give.” Bísí almost laughed “That is exactly what a fool would say.” Titi wanted to answer, but she was wordless. The drums began to beat again. The people went quiet. The ceremony had begun. The elders from both families took their places before the altar. Titi watched uncles and aunts whose names and faces she had begun to forget. She recognized Uncle Adéṣínà, who once beat her with a stick for looking at him the wrong way. Aunty Morẹ́niké sat closest to Mother in matching Àṣọ̀ẹ́bí. She was not sure which of the two tall men was Bánkólé and which was Olúwadámilárè. Her family. But no seat was reserved for her. There were cousins she was not allowed to meet. The master of ceremonies called for silence, and the conversations that had filled the courtyard gradually faded beneath the low rhythm of the talking drums. Wale stepped forward. He bowed deeply before Ronke’s family. His companions followed him. The sight drew cheers from the crowd. He lowered himself in respect before the elders, his forehead nearly touching the ground. His men followed, their blue garments spreading across the earth around them. His men watched on from afar, Jàjà taking up the largest portion of Titi’s view. The elders raised their hands. Prayers followed. They prayed for strength. For prosperity. For peace between the families. For children. For long life. For a marriage that would survive whatever troubles the gods might place before it. Titi listened. Every blessing felt like a nail being driven into something inside her. Ronke was presented. She knelt before her mother. Fúnkẹ́ placed both hands upon her daughter’s head. Her prayer was long. Titi could not hear every word. She had always wanted to know what a mother’s blessing sounded like. Ronke moved next to Wale’s parents. Lady Funmilayo placed a hand upon her head and smiled. Chief Olúṣẹ́gun gave a solemn nod before offering his own blessing. The elders continued. Names were called. Ancestors were remembered. The gods were invoked. Calabashes were presented. Kola nuts were broken and shared between the families. The talking drums grew louder as the ceremony progressed, answering the voices of the elders with rhythms that spoke their own language. Then Ronke was brought before Wale. For a moment, the two simply looked at each other. The crowd cheered. Ronke lowered herself before him. Wale reached down and helped her rise. Titi watched. The ceremony continued. Gifts were presented. Cloth was exchanged between the families. Beads, ornaments and other valuables were brought forward by relatives as symbols of goodwill. Women ululated while the drummers increased their rhythm, and children slipped between the adults, chased away by laughing mothers whenever they came too close to the ceremony. The celebration grew louder. Titi stood at the edge of it all. Invisible. She watched Ronke smile. She watched Mother smile. She watched Wale smile. She watched his family celebrate. And slowly, painfully, it became clearer and clearer to her that this was real. This was truly happening. Wale would leave with Ronke. He would build a home with her. He would wake beside her. He would laugh with her. He would love her. Titi felt something inside her collapse. She lowered her head. Perhaps Bísí was right. Perhaps she was a fool. The master of ceremonies called for silence. The drums softened. The laughter died. Even the children seemed to understand that something important was about to happen. Ronke moved closer to Wale. Her gold glittered. His blue sparkled. She looked him in the eye, then lowered her gaze. The two stood before the elders. The final prayers were spoken. The blessings of both families were invoked. The elders raised their hands towards the couple. Titi watched without breathing. This was it. The moment when everything would become permanent. Once Wale accepted Ronke before all these people, there would be no going back. Titi closed her eyes. Perhaps she could survive it. Perhaps she could watch the man she loved marry her sister and simply learn to survive that reality. The master of ceremonies began to speak. Wale lowered his head. Then stopped. Something had changed. Titi opened her eyes. Wale was no longer looking at Ronke. He was looking at her. For a moment, the entire world seemed to disappear. The drums. The guests. The Àlàáfìn. The princess. The prince. Ramon the Red. Ronke. Everyone. There was only Wale. He stared at her. Then he rose from the altar and directed his eyes towards her. “Titi,” he called. “Would you truly just stand there and watch me get married without saying as much as a word?”

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