Ìléré

-
I still don't get it. How does a family rise to become ruler over multitude? This is not a form of government which is by the people and for the people. No - I don't just understand monarchy. How will a child claim superiority to a grown on the basis that he is a royal blood. 
Oh what a distortion  humanity.

And then I see the government form for the people by the bankers and corporations. What a shame.

Ìléré the faithful slave in the palace received favour in the kings' sight among her fellow slaves. She was assigned with the role of keeping the king's royal mug. She was faithful with her designation. 

So one day, the Prince got drunk and then accidentally fell upon the royal mug. It broke into pieces, but no one saw the prince fell upon it.

Ìléré was accused of breaking the royal mug. She maintained her innocence but no one believed her. The Prince, the culprit did not confess. The king's fury rose against her, after all she was just a slave. The king ordered that her head be cut off her body. A capital punishment!

Days later, Ìléré fellow slaves on their way to the village stream still wearing a mourning look heard a voice, sang;

Wón fó'pón tón, wón ní Ìléré ló fó'pón
Orí Ìléré ńbe ní Ìlógùngùn, Ìsàlè àbàtà kan ò se kìnrìnjìngbìn
Olúkinrinjìngbìn, kînrìnjíngbin
Òrò tâbáse - kìnrìnjìngbìn  
èpè kan ò pa'hun - kìnrìnjìngbìn
Òrò tâbáse - kìnrìnjìngbìn 
Dídùn níi dunni - kìnrìnjìngbìn 

(A dirge in Yòrùbá language.)

And it was Ìléré's ghost, singing her innocence. Innocent yet convicted. The truth got revealed but the prince was not punished all because he was a prince.

May I say, "In the beginning all was not well, and may never be."

Government is a corporation, a necessary evil.

#Yoruba folklore 
#FreeBorn
#Humanity

© FERT, 2015

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Clocked People

-
Image
Two worlds collide: the realm of moral absolutes and the domain of worldly pragmatism. We're taught to uphold the sacred tenets of righteousness, yet the whispers of innovation and progress beckon from the shadows of societal values. There are the '12 o'clock' purists, bred to prioritize virtue above all else. Their unwavering commitment to morality often renders them aloof, isolated from the pulsating rhythm of the world. On the opposite end, the '6:30' free spirits dance to the beat of unbridled social liberty, morality cast aside like a forgotten relic. But what of those who dwell at the zenith of balance, the '6 o'clock' harmonizers? They walk the tightrope between righteousness and pragmatism, intuitively sensing when to yield to virtue and when to indulge in life's sweet temptations. In this delicate plain, balance is key. The art of knowing when to be good and when to be bad – not for the sake of rebellion, but for the beauty of harmony. F...
Read more

Things Will Happen

-
Image
 Each dawn, I rise, driven by the fire within, Taught that idle hands reap only barren wind. I strive for excellence, my heart's relentless quest, Yet, like a pin dropped in the ocean's vast unrest. Results fade, like ripples on the waves above, "Not my day," I whisper, solace in self-love. My stomach growls, hunger's persistent call, My heart echoes, yearning for success's thrall. But today, a glimmer, rays of light ascend, My toil, soon crowned with triumph's sweet end. I'm alive! We rise, we fall, yet still we stand, Now, I ascend, my spirit, unbroken hand. For every drought, a harvest awaits, Every night, a dawn that breaks. There are decades where nothing happens, And there are weeks where decades happen. © FERT, 2024
Read more

Don't Die...

-
Image
Don't die, Change form. Amidst the rubble, Where once stood strong foundations, Now lie the remnants of what was. Shackles bind tight, The weight of struggles heavy, And the fire's fierce rampage, Threatens to consume all. Yet, in this crucible of chaos, I live. From the depths of darkness, The beauty of light begins to emerge. A delicate glow, Growing brighter, Illuminating the path ahead. I rise, Stronger with each passing moment, As resilient as the break of day, And as unwavering as the constant sunshine. The trials do not define my end, But mark the beginning of my transformation. Through the storms and the strife, Through the trials that test my spirit, I find my strength, I find my truth. I don't merely survive, I transcend. I evolve. In every ending, a new beginning unfolds. In every fall, the seeds of rise are sown. I am not defeated, I am reborn, Renewed, Reformed, And ever forward, I evolve. © FERT, 2024
Read more