Chapter 1 - Sojourn
The golden shimmer of Ìlẹ̀ Wúrà taunted Àṣàkẹ́ from afar, a promise and a threat all at once.
Àṣàkẹ́ sat by the window in her father’s parlour, the cool breeze teasing her face. Absentmindedly, she scratched her scalp, her gaze fixed on the horizon. For weeks now, she had noticed girls and boys her age leaving for Ìlẹ̀ Wúrà — the Golden Land. From where she sat, she could see the allure and why the people of Abule-Owo were drawn to it.
A land so golden it sparkled in the distance, every teen teetering into the world of Adulthood who ventured there returned with fruits, gold, and a mysterious glow that captivated the entire village. It honestly all seemed too good to be true, but her eyes didn’t lie. She had seen the looming silhouettes of Ìlẹ̀ Wúrà from afar and the bounty carried back by those who dared to journey there.
Sighing, Àṣàkẹ́ pulled her gaze back to her surroundings.
Abule-Owo might not be a Golden Land, but it was home. A modest village of about 150 people, its beauty lay in its simplicity. To outsiders, it was a small, forgettable dot on the map, but to Àṣàkẹ́, it was where every face was familiar, every corner held a memory. The heat of the sun, the scent of a freshly roasted corn, the rhythm of daily life, it was all she had ever known. But In the shimmering distance, Ìlẹ̀ Wúrà called to her like a song, an invitation she could not escape.
The aroma of roasted corn drifted in through the window, pulling her attention to the street. Across from her father’s compound, a woman slapped her son’s hand as he tried to sneak a cob off the hot iron grill. Àṣàkẹ́ chuckled at the boy’s mischief but soon noticed another sight that wiped the smile from her face.
Bosede, the daughter of her father’s friend Babaloja, stood at the edge of the street, adorned in her mother’s beads and wrapper. An empty basket hung from her arm, and her father stood behind her, his posture tense with pride. There was no mistaking her destination — Bosede was on her way to Ìlẹ̀ Wúrà.
“Hmn, Abosede has started the journey,” Mama said softly, her voice breaking Àṣàkẹ́’s thoughts.
Startled, Àṣàkẹ́ turned to find her mother gazing out the window as well. She clutched her chest, feigning annoyance.
"Mama, you scared me,” she said with a pout.
Mama Àṣàkẹ́ chuckled, closing the window and taking Àṣàkẹ́’s hands in hers. “Àṣàkẹ́, my namesake,” she said gently, her tone carrying both affection and curiosity. “I can see the longing in your eyes.” She nodded toward the window. “When will you start your journey?”
Àṣàkẹ́ hesitated, her smile faint. “Very soon, Mama. Sooner than you expect.” Her words were firm, but her heart quaked with doubt.
She withdrew her hands from her Mothers’ and stepped outside. The courtyard was alive with activity, yet her world felt strangely still. Crouching near the veranda, she rubbed her trembling hands together and took slow, deliberate breaths. The journey that filled everyone else with excitement filled her with dread.
Later that evening, Àṣàkẹ́ had been sent to buy palm Oil for dinner at a nearby shop when she spotted Ayinde, Abosede’s older brother walking back from the farm.
“Àṣàkẹ́!” Ayinde called from afar, jogging to catch up with her. When he finally reached her, he fell into step beside her. “Did you know Abosede left for Ìlẹ̀ Wúrà today?” Ayinde asked.
“Yes,” Àṣàkẹ́ replied, nodding. “I saw your father seeing her off.”
To her surprise, Ayinde’s face lit up with excitement. “I’m happy for her! I’m starting my own journey tomorrow.”
Àṣàkẹ́ masked her surprise by greeting a woman sitting along the roadside, giving herself a moment to collect her thoughts. Then, turning to Ayinde, she teased, “Is this a competition? Why is everyone in such a rush? And if you knew you were leaving just a day after your sister, why didn’t you leave together?”
Ayinde scoffed, swinging the cutlass in his hand. “Travel with her? Never! Besides, this journey isn’t some excursion. The journey to Ìlẹ̀ Wúrà is sacred for us — it marks the beginning of adulthood. You’re supposed to go alone, to explore, learn, earn, and…” He hesitated for a moment before adding, “build relationships and love.”
At the mention of love, Ayinde quickly averted his gaze. Àṣàkẹ́ raised an eyebrow, intrigued, but chose not to press him further. Instead, she asked, “Wait, but I thought the goal was to gather fruits and gold?”
Ayinde chuckled, though he quickly stifled it, his expression turning thoughtful. “That’s part of it, yes. But from what I’ve learned, our parents — most parents, really — don’t care so much about what you bring back. They look forward to the transformation the journey brings. It’s not just about what you gain; it’s about who you become.”
He paused for a moment, then added, “It’s daunting, I won’t lie. But the earlier you go, the sooner you’re done. And remember this: while Ìlẹ̀ Wúrà is the destination, there’s no map waiting for you over there when you arrive. How you gather fruits, how you find gold — that’s up to you. You decide your path.”
Àṣàkẹ́ swallowed hard, trying to absorb his words. “Wow,” she said softly. “That’s… a lot. And when did you get so wise?” she teased, playfully nudging his shoulder.
Ayinde stepped back, grinning. But his expression soon turned serious as he looked at her. “Bye, Àṣàkẹ́. Don’t let me delay your errand.”
He began to walk away but glanced back over his shoulder, waving. “See you when we see. I’ll be waiting for you at Ìlẹ̀ Wúrà.”
Before Àṣàkẹ́ could respond, Ayinde disappeared into the night.
On her way back home, Àṣàkẹ́ replayed her mother’s question from the morning and mulled over her conversation with Ayinde. By the time she reached her family’s compound, she had made up her mind.
After dinner, Àṣàkẹ́ sat quietly, observing her family. Her father and mother were engrossed in what seemed like a heated discussion, though their voices were calm. Abayomi, her immediate younger brother, rested his head on her shoulder, his eyes fixed on the flies circling the lantern their father had lit for the night. On her mother’s lap, Adetola, the youngest, slept soundly as their mother absentmindedly ran her fingers through his hair.
Àṣàkẹ́ took a deep breath and spoke. “Baba, Mama… I’ve decided. I want to start my journey to Ìlẹ̀ Wúrà.”
Her mother smiled softly, her gaze brimming with pride. Her father’s expression was harder to read. For a moment, he said nothing, but then he stood and walked over to join Àṣàkẹ́ on the bench.
“I’m proud of you,” he said, taking her hand in his. He paused, as if gathering his thoughts, and then asked, “Did you know I met your mother in Ìlẹ̀ Wúrà?”
Àṣàkẹ́’s eyes widened in surprise. She glanced at her mother, who was now humming softly as she played with Adetola’s curls. “Really?” she asked, turning back to her father.
“Yes,” he said, smiling. “She came from another village to Ìlẹ̀ Wúrà. When I first saw her, I was struck by her beauty and decided then and there that I would marry her.”
Àṣàkẹ́ couldn’t hide her amazement. “Wow,” she murmured, leaning her head on his shoulder.
“Yes, wow,” her father chuckled. “I’ll tell you something. Ìlẹ̀ Wúrà is the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen in my entire life. It’s not just a town; it’s alive. It sings to you in a way that makes your heart lighter. When I arrived, it felt as though all my worries and problems melted away. The people were warm, and finding the gold and fruits wasn’t hard at all.”
He paused, lifting Àṣàkẹ́’s chin so she was looking into his eyes. “But here’s the truth, my daughter. As sacred and revered as the journey to Ìlẹ̀ Wúrà is in our village, I’m still the same man I was before I left. No miracle changed me. I’m still as stubborn and determined as ever, with an eye for beautiful things.” He cast a glance at her mother, and Àṣàkẹ́ couldn’t help but laugh at the mischievous twinkle in his eyes.
“But that’s my experience,” he continued. “If you were to ask Babaloja, my friend, his story would be entirely different. For me, Ìlẹ̀ Wúrà is a treasure, but to some, our little village of Abule Owo is far more precious. So, if you don’t want to go, don’t feel pressured. I’m proud of you, whether you make the journey or not.”
Àṣàkẹ́ wanted desperately to tell him she didn’t want to go. The thought of leaving filled her with dread. But she had seen the look of longing in her mother’s eyes every time someone else departed for Ìlẹ̀ Wúrà. She wanted to be the one her mother gazed at with that same pride. And then there were her siblings — Abayomi and Adetola. She wanted to set a good example for them.
Summoning her courage, Àṣàkẹ́ smiled at her father and said, “Baba, I really want to go.”
Her father nodded, his eyes warm with pride, though there was a flicker of sadness in them.
Before dawn, Mama woke Àṣàkẹ́ to prepare for her departure. She packed garri, kuli kuli, fufu, and eba, her hands moving with purpose as she muttered prayers under her breath.
By the time Àṣàkẹ́ was ready, the sun blazed fiercely overhead. She stepped into the courtyard, but the scorching sand burned her bare feet, and she retreated with a yelp. “It’s hot!” she exclaimed.
Her father chuckled softly and fetched her sandals. Kneeling before her, he brushed the sand off her feet and slid the sandals on. Then, to her surprise, he pulled her into a tight embrace.
“Àṣàkẹ́,” he said, his voice thick with emotion, “remember, you can always come home. Even if it were up to me, I’d rather you not go at all. But you are destined for greatness. Take every lesson, every struggle, every victory, and carry it proudly.”
Tears stung her eyes as she clung to his Buba.
“I’m scared,” she thought.
“I don’t want to go.”
But the words remained unspoken.
Time pressed on. With a final kiss to her father’s cheek, she stepped back. “I’ll come back with gold, Baba. You’ll see,” she promised, forcing a smile.
