Iñá in the Kingdom of Unle

2024-03-27 Pataki Class 1

The spirit of Iñá moved silently in the night, making his way to the ocean.

It was a moonless sky, but Iñá's eyes loved the darkness; for him, beauty lay in murky shades of black in the shadows. At the shore he stood, ice cold water washing over his feet, the sand beneath them shifting and sucking his toes in the muck. It was low tide and the ocean seemed calm.

"Olokun,'' he whispered to the Orisha who rules the ocean, straining to hear over the waves.

"Olokun," he called again, with still no answer.

Finally, "Olokun!" he roared. His voice was so powerful it stirred up the very ocean before him. Olokun rose from the sea. At first he was just salt water rising like a waterspout. Then the water washed away, and with only the light of stars Iñá could see a dark male body, darker than even the night air.

Olokun walked in the ocean toward him, his body bulging with rippled muscles and a chest that looked at once both female and male, with its breasts a bit too big for a man but too hard and defined for a woman.

Soon the two stood at the edge of the ocean face-to-face, Iñá's back to the sand and Olokun's back to the ocean. "What business have I with you, osogbo?" Olokun asked. "I don't like to be bothered with your kind." His voice roared with all the power of the sea.

Iñá smiled; it was a wicked grin that chilled even Olokun. "The kingdom that stands on your borders is soon to be without a king," he said, pointing to the edge of the cliffs beyond which the kingdom's borders lay. "For tonight the king himself lies dying in his bed, and the old man Eyeunle holds vigil over his wasted flesh."

When Olokun only glared, Iñá continued, "This is the same kingdom that for years has intruded on yours without so much as an ebó. The entire town lives by worshipping Obatalá, the very Orisha who bound your kingdom and shrank your realm. And the king (Obatalá) has no heir. When he dies, you could have your own priest reclaim that kingdom in your name. He could rule, and instead of worshipping Obatalá as supreme they would be forced to worship you as the Orisha of their town.

"Obatalá protects that kingdom and he is a powerful Orisha, Iñá."

"As are you," he replied "And to wrestle that kingdom away from Obatalá's worship, it would take a war. I am the spirit of war, and I am at your service."

"You serve no one but yourself, Iñá." Olokun turned and had begun to sink back into the ocean when Iñá's hand reached out to grab him by the shoulder.

Olokun felt heat from Iñá's fingertips, and then he felt something hot flood his body, anger.

He turned and struck the osogbo with his fist, sending him flying through the air and landing in the soft sand with a thud.

The anger Iñá put into Olokun pierced his heart and clouded his mind, and in a rage he roared, "I will have my priest destroy everyone who stands between him and that throne; and I will have him destroy the worship of Obatalá and replace it with my own. When the king dies, he will gather soldiers and they will march. My priest will take the palace by force. and I will kill any man, woman, or child who stands in his way!"

High tide began rolling up on shore, a furious rush of water that sounded like a thousand maniacs laughing.

Iñá's work was done. Soon there would be war. And soon Iñá would feast on the blood soaked earth.

Sadness lay across the land like a thick quilt the day the king (Obatalá) died. He had been already an old man when some of the town's elders had been in their youth; he had attended the burials of many as they passed.

"He is blessed by Olófin!" his people had agreed, and there were those who thought him immortal, forever frozen in the fragile frame of an old man.

Still, flesh is weak even when blessed by the orishas, and the day came that the king (Obatalá) could no longer rise from his bed without assistance. Soon, he could not sit up at all. And one morning his attendants walked in to find him still sleeping, but burning with fever.

"It's old age," the royal physician said.

"The time of his passing is near. Since his youth, Eyeunle had served as the old king's diviner, and Eyeunle was there at his bedside, an old man himself but not quite so ancient as the king. "I will sit with him," he vowed to the doctor. "I will not leave his side; he will not die alone."

For days Eyeunle sat there, unmoving. After many days the monarch's breath slowed, and when his chest fell for the last time it was a soft sigh, a gentle, mournful release that let Eyeunle know: he is dead.

He put his head on the king's chest and wept. This was how the royal physician found them both when he made his afternoon rounds.

"How long?" he asked.

Eyeunle looked up, not rising from his master's bedside. "Hours, perhaps," he said. "I've been praying for his soul since his last breath. "I'Il make the preparations for his funeral."

Gently, the young physician touched Eyeunle's shoulder. "You need rest. You've sat vigil at his bedside for days. "

Gently, Eyeunle let himself be led to his own chambers. Sleep came, dreamless and deep After the funeral and days of mourning, the town's elders pushed back at the sadness engulfing the kingdom. There was work to be done.

"He died with no heir," said the eldest of the elders.

"He had no wife, and he had no children; the kingdom was his family. And now there is no one to rule in his place."

"But he did have one man he looked up to more than any other," said the youngest.

All eyes were on him when he said, "Eyeunle."

They were silent.

"Eyeunle served him faithfully for decades. The king never made a decision without consulting his diviner, and in the end, no matter what the people wanted, he did what the orishas wanted. That's why we have been prosperous all our years."

The eldest man stood up."Would Eyeunle, then, make a good king Could a diviner rule?"

It was another elder who answered him, an aged priest of the Orisha Obatalá. "In a sense, he already did. If our king presented all our troubles to Eyeunle for divination, and if divination gave him the answers by which to rule, would not a diviner be able to rule wisely. Especially since it was the same diviner that our king trusted all his life?"

For the first time anyone could remember, the elders' idea was put to a vote.

Unanimously, the town decided that Eyeunle would be their new king.

He of course, accepted.

Eyeunle's wisdom, acquired from a lifetime of study and servitude, was unmatched in the world. So loved and respected was he by mortals that when their king died they installed him as the new ruler.

He accepted the crown not for himself, but for his friends, and vowed to do all he could to improve their lives in the village.

Tirelessly he worked, and very quickly the small village became a prosperous town; everyone enjoyed the abundance and riches brought by Eyeunle's leadership. Even Eyeunle's enemies enjoyed the newfound wealth, for Eyeunle did have enemies.

Iñá went to the home of Olokun's priest with the Orisha's blessings, and as the man slept, lightly he touched him over his heart. The heat of war entered his soul. The young priest awoke, Iñá's ashé rushing through his blood, and he said, "This kingdom-it should be mine!" No one was there to hear him, but he swept his feet over the edge of the bed and stood. Had someone been in his chamber, they would have shrunk back in fear. His eyes narrowed, his dark features sharpened, and he raved in the darkness.

"Eyeunle is not fit to be king, and Obatalá is a weak Orisha. I am young. I am strong. And it is Olokun who owns this world. I will kill Eyeunle, and while I bathe in the blood of my enemy the town will crown me king. Then the temples dedicated to the Orisha Obatalá will be torn down. Shrines will be built to my Orisha Olokun. We will dominate this earth."

He remained awake all night long, planning, and during the day, stealthily, secretly, he gathered rebel forces to overthrow Eyeunle and take over the kingdom Eyeunle now ruled. He planned war, with the spirit of Iñá, who was war personified, at his side.

After months of planning, the priest had sufficient strength and numbers, and together they rose up at the town's gate and began making their way to the palace.

Eyeunle's advisors came to him in fear. They warned him of the impending revolution, and Eyeunle, knowing he didn't have the strength to fight, fled. He fled to the home of Mofá, the wisest diviner in his kingdom. When Mofá opened his door to Eyeunle, concern darkened his ancient face.

Eyeunle was an elder, and a strong elder, but the man who visited that day looked tired and weary. His brows were furrowed, his eyes red from tears, and his body was stiff with exhaustion.

"Eyeunle?" asked Mofá. He wasn't sure if it was really his king. Eyeunle pushed his way inside Mofá's home, closing the door behind him, and he rested his back against the entrance.

"Mofá," he said, "I am afraid for my life." He shook, his entire body quivering as if bracing against a chill. "Olokun's priest is angry that I was crowned king and not he, and he has gathered an army strong enough to rip the kingdom from me. I think he wants me dead."

Eyeunle closed his eyes, trembling. "The orishas have a solution for everything. Let us see what the solution to this is." Mofá divined for the diviner that day, and as Eyeunle's signature odu fell on the mat, Mofá frowned.

He continued to question his diloggún and found that the osogbo of war, Iñá, was on the old man.

He took a deep breath. "If you want to save your own life and remain king in your own kingdom, you must offer a sacrifice to Obatalá: a white, female goat."

Mofá looked at Eyeunle as he listened to make sure he understood.

"But this is most important, and I want you to understand this: the way that you offer the sacrifice must change."

"How so?"

"A kingdom can have only one king. Just as a body can have only one head. You are both a king and a head. But right now both are in danger. Your kingdom is under attack. Iñá is there and he wants one thing--your head. When you sacrifice this goat, you are to clean yourself with it. Throw the entire body into the ocean, but save the head. Find a safe place to hide in the rocks on the shore. Keep the head with you; do not lose it. As this situation plays out, it will all make sense ...in time. And just wait there until you are found."

While Eyeunle was sitting on Mofá's mat, the evil priest and his rebels were storming his palace. When they found it empty they assumed he had fled in fear, and a great cry rose to heaven--victory!

Because the town was still under Obatalá's protection the rebels made a sacrifice to him, a single white goat.

But Olokun's priest was already planning how to tear down the temples dedicated to the Orisha, and on the cliffs overlooking the ocean he was planning a huge house to store the sacred implements of Olokun. Then he would force everyone to dedicate themselves to the worship of his Orisha, not Obatalá.

"What should we do with the head?" one of the rebels asked the priest.

He looked at the head of the sacrificed goat thoughtfully, "Throw it into the ocean from high off the cliff," he said.

"That is the place where soon I will build a temple to my Orisha, Olokun. But give Olokun the head as a symbol that now the head of his priest rules this town. Once we are settled in we will plan a huge series of sacrifices to properly honor my Orisha."

As he was told, the rebel went to the edge of the cliff and threw the head into the sea for Olokun. It was swallowed up by the ocean's waters and it made its way to the bottom where Olokun lay waiting. When the head settled at his feet he knew that his priest was the new king.

Soon the town will be dedicated to me, Olokun thought. He was pleased.

Neither the rebel nor Olokun knew that just beneath the cliffs, Eyeunle hid in the rocks holding the head of a female goat.

But Obatalá knew, he had received Eyeunle's offering, and at that moment he was preparing to descend to earth to make sure his child, Eyeunle, remained in power.

As the day's celebrations continued among the rebels, they moved their party to the shore. It was a big festival that day as they roasted their goat.

As they cooked, Obatalá made the great trip between heaven and earth. When Obatalá appeared among them, at the edge of the shore where water and land fought with the rising and lowering of the tides, Olokun's priest prostrated before him and waited for the Orisha's blessing before rising. Obatalá offered none; instead, he demanded, "What is happening here? Why do I feel a great evil spreading on the earth?"

Olokun's priest remained on the sand and looked up at the mighty Orisha. "Father," he said, "We are having a celebration. Eyeunle fled the kingdom today, and the people are installing me as their new king."

Obatalá knew the evil in the priest's heart; he knew everything in the hearts of humans. His ancient eyes narrowed, and as he touched the man on his shoulders he felt the heat of Iñá still running through his veins.

Wordlessly, with a light touch of his fingers, he bid the priest to rise. As the priest sought to embrace Obatalá, the Orisha put his hand on his chest to hold him back--the heat of Iñá made the Orisha's head throb--and he said, "To celebrate the coronation of a new king in this kingdom, it is Olófin's law that you must make sacrifice to me. What offering did you give?"

"Father, to you we offered a female goat." Obatalá saw the meat roasting over an open pit. Beside it were the animal's body parts. The Orisha began counting them. "I have two arms, two legs, a sternum, the left and right sides of the stomach, a liver, two kidneys, and a heart. There is the chest, spinal column, pelvis, and tail. There is the neck and the ring. I have the first two vertebrae, and here is the skin." The priest was proud as Obatalá counted all the parts.

Then, confused, Obatalá asked, "Where is the head? Is the head not mine as well?" The priest's face turned red; he had instructed his followers to give the head to Olokun, and he had not another one to serve to Obatalá. "Father," said the priest as he tried to retain his composure, "of course the head is yours. It is but an oversight. I will have another goat sacrificed to you immediately to be in compliance with Olófin's law."

"There is a head in the boulders on the shore, said Obatalá. "Since the head is mine, and since the head rules the body, the one with the head will rule this town forever."

Quickly, the rebels ran to the rocks, and there, with Obatalá in their midst, they found Eyeunle hiding, holding the head he had kept from his own sacrifices.

That day Obatalá used his ashé to banish Olokun's priest from the town, for though he was an old man he was powerful, the king of all the orishas and no one, not even Olokun, could fight against his word.

And it was because Eyeunle had saved the head of his sacrifice for Obatalá, as Mofá had instructed, that Eyeunle had remained the head, the true king, of Obatalá's earthly kingdom.

There, just beyond he cliff that overlooked Olokun's realm, he lived his life out, ruling with knowledge and wisdom.

And Olokun, as angry as he was, could not touch Obatalá's kingdom because it stood higher on land than his power reached.

Eyeunle ruled there for many years, and it was the most prosperous kingdom on the earth.