Uncle Jimi moved quickly through the narrow footpath that passed through the griot’s hole with Dr Agbabiaka following quickly and trying to catch up with the wonders that filled the room. It was particularly bright and shiny this night coupled with the starry sky beyond the transparent ceiling of the room, it was an amazing sight for the doctor. He had heard something like a lion’s roar when they came into the room but Uncle Jimi had quickly made him know it was all artificial, all of it including the moving masquerades and humans. A drum was beating somewhere within the thick forest on the left side of the footpath. As they neared the exit door, the doctor noticed that the walls that enclosed the building was partly made of a thin film material called ETFE, ethylene tetrafluoroethylene, he had once used ETFE in the lab while working on a patient whose brain had to be examined under bright lights. He could not expose the bright light to the brain directly because the lighting produced so much heat that could be injurious to the patient. His colleague, a biomedical engineer working at the teaching hospital had provided the medical team with films of ETFE which was translucent but reflected a large quantity of the heat produced by the light. It was easy to see why this controlled environment also felt extra cool. The door was however made of thick glass only and Uncle Jimi opened it as they strolled into the deserted path that led to the car park. It was nights like this that made destinies Uncle Jimi thought as he looked up into the star-filled sky above him. It was one of the stories he had heard as a kid that you could read events happening around you from the stars in the sky.
On this particular night, there were three stars aligned in a close and perfectly straight line at the centre of the night sky and there was another group of three aligned in a wider and perfectly straight line. The two groups were aligned at an acute angle and shared a particular star at the right end, they were on a collision course and one person was at the point of collision. As the old man gazed on, a tiny shooting star moved right across the symmetry breaking the meaning it initially made. At this point, Dr Agbabiaka shifted the weight on his right hand to indicate his presence. He had actually returned from the car a few minutes earlier wondering what the old man could read in the dark sky above.
As they made their way silently back to the entrance of the griot’s hole, Uncle Jimi wondered if this was a sure sign that the trio of Papa, Dr Agbabiaka and himself were on a dangerous collision with two other people, obviously the two politicians and what of the shooting star. It really made a bit of sense except the fact that these three stars had always been there since he was a kid. The old man smiled at the slyness of ancient wisdom.
By the time they arrived at Prof. Sanmi Aluko’s office, the old professor had finished making four copies of each recording they needed. He however looked grim and pale. He looked directly at the bag Dr Agbabiaka had just brought in.
I just received news that we have more people looking for us. Alhaji Kosoko has gotten concrete information about the existence of your research and has tried to get across to you. My informant says Alhaji Kosoko just called your wife’s mobile number asking her for information regarding your whereabouts. That makes two politicians looking for you now. It’s a direct collision course with the powers that be and you’re at the centre of all this. Personally, doctor I’ll advise that we get moving within the next hour. I’m privileged to have served as a royal griot in the palace of the Olubadan and I know how easy it is for a politically-motivated person to get power-drunk and I also know that information never eludes them. By now, it’s very sure somebody knows you’re still in Ibadan.
Dr Agbabiaka crumbled down in defeat. He sits on the floor with his head in his palms. When he looked up, he had tears in his eyes and sobs, ‘Prof, I only did my job. Research is what I’m paid to do. I have no interest in politics but………look where I’ve found myself……he kidnapped my family…….my colleagues……..he wants to kill me’.
Papa cuts in, young man; it’s not a time to cry. We’ve just got to leave this place, that’s all I’m saying. I have news that Alhaji Kosoko has finished his meeting with some chieftains of the PA and the party is ready to agree to his terms and nominate him as their flag-bearer in the elections instead of Gbolabo, who really had no prospects except his purported health agenda which appears to be based on the result of your work. He will obviously be looking for you everywhere including on this campus and same goes for Alhaji Kosoko who will want to ensure that Gbolabo does not find you. He’ll also get interested in your work, for negative motives of course.
Another disturbing news I received is that Kosoko is coming to Ibadan in an hour to have a meeting with the Olubadan. That obviously concerns me and I saw it coming a long time ago. It’s why I resigned from my job as the royal adviser to Olubadan on cultural and historical matters. I clearly won’t support the sale of our culture and conscience to a greedy politician. Alhaji Kosoko had demanded about six months ago that there should be commercialization of some artefacts and statuettes in Ile-oba and Oja-oba. It’s not a bad idea to bring in tourists to come and pay to see these things but what I consider wrong is the idea of having our things to be carried off to ilu oyinbo for remaking, remoulding and recreation by a German company. He also suggested that his arts-dealership company that is not more than three years old will be in charge of the concessioning process and agreements between the Ibadan royalty and the German arts refurbishment company. What do Germans know about African arts that they want to recreate our own sculptures the way they should be?
The British could claim they were in our country for over two hundred years but Germans?
The Olubadan also requested for a permanent seat in the new governments’ cabinet. It’s like we’re finally politicking with our traditional establishments. Politicking is not a bad thing if the process was clean and befitting of the respect accorded to our traditional rulers. I stood firmly against the Olubadan and Alhaji Kosoko’s plans and I knew it will not be long before they come after me considering the fact that they had counted on my support and influence as the royal custodian of things related to our history and culture to win the hearts of the citizens.
It’s like selling our customs to the white man for personal gains and I can imagine what future generations of Ibadan will write about this regime in their stories. I guess Kosoko tried selling this same idea to the Ooni and it was outrightly rejected and that’s why he won’t go back there to ask for political support and traditional endorsement. I also wonder why he won’t try to sell the belongings of the Lagos monarchy for money and political endorsement. I guess because it’s his home. Even the bible condemns unwarranted sales of traditional and customary items. Two kings of ancient Israel were cursed by God for trading with their traditional and customary artefacts.
Anyway, we have to pack our needed belongings and get out of here.
In the meantime, Chief Gbolabo had just received news from his trusted aide, Major Badoo that Dr Agbabiaka is suspected to be hiding somewhere within the University of Ibadan. A couple of young ladies at a party outside the school gate had mentioned meeting their young lecturer from the department of medicine and surgery while coming for the party. The description looked quite like Agbabiaka. Gbolabo had immediately directed his men to try and get the lecturer alive and if better, dead.