Poverty and Hunger

There is no renewal without decline.

A buttery moon defied the darkness, its pale light casting shadows on the forest floor. The world slept, but through the trees three lonely figures walked with a single oil lamp lighting their way: Iku, Poverty, and Hunger. Wordlessly they walked, the occasional snapping of a branch underfoot being their only sound. When they arrived at the roots of the ancient Iroko, Iku placed the lamp firmly on the soft earth and the three made a tight circle around it. After a few moments of silence they spoke in hushed whispers.

"For years the two of you have wandered the earth without peace, without rest, and everywhere you go the humans rise up against you. They force you to leave; and in loneliness, you keep moving. Are you not tired of it all?" asked Iku.

Her voice seemed filled with concern and sorrow; but in truth a creature such as she had little use for those emotions. She was as cold as the pale moon hanging over the earth.

"I am," said Hunger. "I find a town that seems peaceful and I try to settle but it"s always the same. The humans fight me. I want nothing more than to rest and eat, to fill this hole that gnaws at my insides. But just when I start to feel full and sated they rise up and drive me from town. It has been like this since I can remember."

"And it"s the same for me," said Poverty. "Everywhere I go, people work hard to banish me, and the more I fight to stay the more they work to get rid of me. All I want is a home, a place to call my own. But no one will let me settle. Maybe there is no room for poverty in this world?"

"Oh but there is!" Iku clapped her hands together and smiled a huge, toothy grin as she spoke. "There is room for both of you in this world, but neither of you is strong enough to fight the humans alone. To succeed you must work together. Poverty, if you want a companion in life there is none more suited to be with you than Hunger; and, Hunger, if you want to remain in this world you must follow Poverty everywhere he goes. When people are poor they struggle to get rich. But when people are poor and hungry they have not the strength to fight. And once a village is impoverished and starving, all the osogbos of the world—sickness, disease, war, and even myself, death—all of us can live there as well, and no one can drive us away! Together the two of you can change the world and make it ours."

"What must we do?" Poverty asked, looking at Hunger. Hunger smiled back.

Ikus voice was ethereal as she spoke, "This tree, this Iroko tree . . . it is the most ancient of its kind. Pacts are made here, vows that can never be broken. Swear together that the two of you will walk the world together and that you will never be apart. Do this and anyplace you settle will be yours. No one can separate you: no one can drive you away!"

Hunger and Poverty agreed; they placed their hands on the ancient Iroko and swore that they would walk the world together, never parting. Something shimmered in the night around them; a great power came from the ancient Iroko and sealed their fate.

Such was that power that even the orishas felt it in heaven. It worried them.

Hunger and Poverty walked out of the forest hand in hand. They felt much stronger together. The osogbos followed them, knowing that their strength would weaken the world and they would find power. The orishas in heaven looked down on the earth; they knew the world was changing, and soon it would be their time.

They watched, and waited.

Suffering doubled in the world that night.

Hand in hand Poverty and Hunger wandered the earth; and they traveled to towns they had already seen. "Let us go to Ilobú," said Poverty, remembering how inviting the town had seemed when he tried to settle there. "I went there once. I wanted to settle. But just as I made my home all the townspeople rose up and worked hard to drive me away. Oh. I so wanted to live there ... it was such a wealthy town."

His eyes were glazed and dreamy as he spoke to Hunger, and Hunger agreed to visit with his new friend. Yet Hunger did not like what he saw. "The town of Ilobú is too small, my friend. I remember once a place called Oshogbo. It was thriving, sitting on the trade routes that ran from Ilé Ifé to Oyó. Anything a man wanted to eat could be found there, and I tried to eat it all. But those wretched humans drove me out when they felt my first pangs. I want to go back there."

Poverty agreed, and they wandered into Oshogbo. Everyone trembled when Poverty came; the town"s coffers went dry and trade slowed to a standstill. For the first time, people felt hunger. Still, the town was small; the friends were unsatisfied, and Poverty had a thought. "There is a place known as Oyó. It is a burgeoning metropolis, a town whose inhabitants number in the thousands. There is wealth. There is an abundance of food. Let us go there!"

Little did they know that as they left, the osogbos came behind and besieged each town with their misfortunes. Hunger and Poverty walked the world, and in their wake they left death and destruction.

Obatalá came down from heaven followed by Shangó. They had seen enough. Slowly, they set about the job of cleaning up the mess Poverty and Hunger left in their wake. It was no easy job.

In ancient Oyó they found the city of their dreams: It was the heart of the Yoruba kingdom, the source of its unity and great wealth. The borders of Oyó sprawled before them, stretched out through the savannah like a leopard lazing by a river; its subjects numbered in the thousands, and their wealth was immeasurable. "I can live here," thought Poverty. "Such is the town"s wealth that it will be moons before they know I have come, and then it will be too late."

Hunger licked his lips. Street vendors cooked every meat and vegetable imaginable; farms on the outskirts of town had an abundance of crops. His stomach rumbled. "I am starved, and there just might be enough food here for me to eat and feel sated!"

Hand in hand the two friends walked into Oyó; and when they disappeared into the crowds the osogbos gathered outside the city gates. Ikú was at the forefront. "Soon ..." said Ikú to her siblings. "Soon Oyó will succumb to poverty and hunger, and when it does the ancient city will be ours to destroy."

By nightfall the city"s woeful cries began. Merchants were unable to move their wares, and fathers came home to empty tables and hungry children. In shadows the misfortunes slipped through city walls and invaded homes. Sickness, arguments, wars, and death came to Oyó that day.

Obatalá came as well. He stood outside the city gates and watched.

"This cannot be allowed to continue," he said to himself. Quietly so no one could hear he slipped into town. By morning he found the two friends.

He stood before Poverty and Hunger, his aged body shaking and trembling in mortal form. Still, he held a single hand up and with a voice as pure and strong as the ash6 of heaven commanded, "Stop!"

Poverty and Hunger giggled before him, for behind them stood all the misfortunes of creation. "You have no power here, old man," said Poverty. "We stand on the shoulders of all the osogbos in the world. Our ashe here is great. Go back to heaven where you belong."

"Yes," said Hunger. "The mortal core is weak where we stand. And behind us all the misfortunes of the world follow. Human eyes turn away from heaven when they are poor and hungry. And without eyes to see the light, can there be anything but darkness?"

Fifteen osogbos encircled Obatala as Ikü moved to stand between Poverty and Hunger. "Between poverty and hunger there can be only death. They bring darkness and desperation; they weaken the human will and it succumbs to evil. What can you do to us now, old man?"

Obatala stiffened before Poverty and Hunger; he felt his mortal form grow heavy as they were near, but still he found the strength to gesture to heaven. "I can make ebo. I can gather all the spirits of heaven behind my back as Poverty and Hunger gather the osogbos behind theirs. But more importantly, I can bring hope to the world."

Obatala glowed with a preternatural light, a soft but warm glow that pushed back the osogbos. He was light; Ikú was darkness, and soon Poverty and Hunger stood alone, trembling together as Obatala"s form seemed to tower above them. "You cannot separate us, old man. We made a pact at the feet of the Iroko."

Obatala crossed his hands over his chest and looked beyond the light to see the osogbos cowering among the shadows of the trees. There was a white-hot fire in his eyes, and in fear they fled. Still, Poverty and Hunger stood firm before him; they shook, but they stood their ground.

"It is true that pacts cannot be broken, but foolish pacts have a way of recoiling against those who make them." Greater grew the light; Poverty and Hunger sank to their knees. Still, they clutched each other. "Your pact will be honored by heaven; as King of all the orishas I speak on that with heaven"s authority. Together you will wander the world hand in hand; and you will have the power, together, to settle where you will. Osogbo will follow you everywhere you go, as such was the design of when he led you to make your pact."

Poverty and Hunger smiled—they knew their pact was strong, unbreakable. But Obatala continued, and his words turned their smiles to frightened frowns. "There is no renewal in this world without decline. You will bring suffering, but the very suffering you bring will be your own undoing. For when humans have suffered enough, when their lives are so tragic and so unbearable that they cannot go on, they will turn to us, the orishas. They will turn their eyes away from you and come to our diviners; and they will make ebó; and as they make ebó we ourselves will intercede from heaven and drive away the very osogbos you bring with you, just as I have driven them away today. And when they are gone you will be all that is left, and you will be forced into submission. You will tremble and grovel then as you are now, and if you hope to live you will have to flee. For we will bless our own with abundance; we will feed our own with our own hands, and where there is abundance and plenty, there can be no poverty and hunger."

Heaven"s light blinded their eyes; backward they crawled as the pure light of heaven burned and stung their skin. Obatalá smiled. "You will take your evil to new places—where you walk osogbo will follow. But know that behind them we follow, and you will be forced to wander and flee all your lives."

Osogbo fled that day, and Poverty and Hunger were powerless to remain as ashe flowed from heaven to the earth. Since then they have wandered the world, together; and every place they sought to settle, when humans felt they suffered enough they went to the diviners and made ebo. Instead of destroying the world with their pact, they renewed it.