ABÍKÉ – ỌMỌ ÌYÁ ÀÌSÍ (ABIKE THE MOTHERLESS CHILD) 

A Yoruba village story written by Mr Ezy (BRENY TV)

📘EPISODE 2📘

Days turned into weeks in Aunt Tinuola’s house, and Abíké quickly realized her new life was nothing like the promises made under the iroko tree.

At dawn, before the cock crowed, she was woken with the sharp voice of her aunt.

“Dide! Abíké!” (Wake up, Abíké!)

“Are you still sleeping when other children are fetching water? Lazy girl, get up!”

Rubbing her eyes, Abíké hurried to the clay pot with a calabash, then carried it to the stream. The path was long, and the water pot was heavy for her small arms. By the time she returned, Kehinde and Bola, her cousins, were just waking, stretching lazily like princesses.

Tinuola frowned.

“Why are you sweating like a goat? Don’t tell me that’s all the water you brought? Go back and fetch more!”

Abíké swallowed her tears. She wanted to protest, but her mother’s last words echoed in her heart: “Be strong, ọmọ mi (my child).”

She carried the pot back to the stream again, her legs trembling, the morning sun biting her back.

One afternoon, Tinuola sent Abíké to the market with a basket.

“Buy pepper, fish, and oil. If you lose even one kobo, I will beat you until your bones remember!”

Abíké nodded. She went carefully, bought everything, and even managed to save one cowrie by bargaining. As she returned, her cousins blocked her at the gate.

“Look at the market girl,” Bola sneered. “Do you think you are our sister?”

Before Abíké could reply, Kehinde pushed her, making the basket fall. Fish and pepper scattered across the dirt.

“Ẹ̀gbón! (Elder sisters!) Please, don’t do this!” Abíké cried, gathering the food quickly. But her aunt had already come out.

“Ha! Lazy fool! You cannot even hold a basket properly? So this is how you waste my money!”

She slapped Abíké across the face. The villagers passing by paused, whispering among themselves. But none dared interfere. After all, Tinuola was a woman of strong tongue and wealth.

That night, as Abíké lay in the smoky kitchen, tears streaming, her mother’s ghost appeared again.

“Ọmọ mi (my child),” her spirit whispered, “I see your suffering. The world is harsh, but remember—you carry my blood. You will not die in this suffering. Hold on.”

Abíké sobbed. “Ìyá mi (my mother)… why must it hurt so much?”

The spirit faded, leaving only the soft glow of moonlight.

It was the festival season in Ìkòrè village. Drums echoed, women tied bright wrappers, and children danced around the square. Abíké longed to join, but her aunt’s voice chained her.

“Stay in the kitchen and pound yam. Kehinde and Bola must look beautiful at the festival. You? Nobody should see your face outside!”

Abíké obeyed. She pounded yam until her arms ached, sweat dripping down her brow. When the family returned from the festival at dusk, Kehinde cried out:

“Mother! My gold earrings are gone!”

Tinuola’s eyes sharpened. “What? Where did you keep them?”

“In the calabash on the table.”

The room went silent. All eyes turned to Abíké. She froze, heart pounding.

“Me? Auntie, I didn’t touch it. I swear by my mother’s grave!”

But Kehinde smirked. “Who else was in the house? She was here all day. She must have taken it.”

Abíké fell to her knees, weeping. “I didn’t, Auntie! Please believe me!”

Tinuola slapped her so hard she fell against the wall.

“Liar! Thief! You have brought shame to my house. Tomorrow, the whole village will hear what you have done!”

That night, Abíké cried until her chest hurt. She wanted to run away, but she had no place to go.

Suddenly, a cold wind swept through the kitchen. Her mother’s ghost appeared again, this time sterner than before.

“Abíké, do not fear. The truth will always find its way out. But before that day, you will taste more pain. Be strong, ọmọ mi (my child).”

Abíké sobbed harder. “Ìyá mi, why must I suffer for what I did not do?”

The spirit’s eyes glowed softly.

“Because destiny is shaping you, my daughter. Destiny never carves wood gently.”

The vision faded, leaving Abíké trembling in the darkness. She knew dawn would bring greater humiliation.

TO BE CONTINUED…………..

      Prev Episode        Next Episode

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Do you think that humiliation and torture Abike is facing in the hand of her Aunty and her cousins are the kind of suffering that she deserves to be strong 💪 and great? Let’s hear your opinion on this topics..