As I once more fled to the solitude of dreams, the weaker I had become, the weaker my grasp over my dreams as I was instead swept into memories I had no desire to remember. To my chagrin and shame, I was forced to re-live them all, the pains and regrets and then this particular one I was swept unto like the erratic flow of a river pregnant with rains.

I saw myself strolling through the slave markets of Ajashe Ipo; now known as Porto-novo, invisible to the eyes of the the mortal traders and merchants. The gathering of clouds and the distant rumble of thunder heralded my arrival, the traders throwing a few worried glances at the sky wondering whether it might rain.

All this I ignored as I moved closer to the objects of both my curiosity and loathing. The foreign Portuguese merchants.

For a while I stood and watched the foreigners argue with Yorùbá, Fon and Ewẹ traders, haggling and bartering goods, salts and gold in exchange for slaves and gunpowder. Anger bristled in my chest as the rumbling sky responded to my emotions, the nerve of these pale skinned intruders to seduce my people into selling their brethren and religion for material things.

My hand reached unconsciously for Oshe my battle axe as it hummed eagerly in anticipation, thirsting for the blood of white men. I instead resolved to strike them down with a bolt of lightening but stopped as I perceived the smell of blood and iron, my nose flared in annoyance, Ogun of Irê has arrived.

“What do you want Oshìn imolè.” I quarried, “do you now follow me around at the behest of Obàtálá like the proverbial housefly with nothing better to do?”

“hold your peace Jakuta.” Ogun answered with a bored voice, “this is a place of trade, and I am the god of commerce, surely it is you who intrudes on my place of influence, I do not come seeking conflict for I am not dressed for it.”

Shango turned to look at the war god and saw that he was appareled in his other form, as an aspect of commerce and trade, he was dressed like a wealthy merchant with a silver weighting scale at the end of a chain.

“Any aspect you may take I care not black one, be gone your way and leave me be.”

“Chaos follows you wherever you go Jakuta.” Ogun sniffed in annoyance, “I care not for whatever you do at your leisure, as long as you take your restless spirit away with you from my place of influence for today is for commune and not conflict.” Ogun followed the sight of my glare and continued. “surely I do no need to remind you that all traders are under my protection.”

“You dare to protect these alien vermin?” I raged, “even after everything they have done? Spreading blasphemy against our pantheon, provoking the fire of greed such that men are forced to sell their own flesh and blood, looting and taking advantage of their welcome, I thought you had honor.”

“Do no talk to me of honour Koso for you have none small as it may be.” Ogun snapped, “you flaunt the laws of Obàtálá, your actions set all of this in motion, you are not blameless. “Your demi god son Afonja’s romance with the fulani brought about the imale religion into yorubaland, his death and the fall of Katunga to Ilorin thus further waned our influence. For decades you interfered in the affairs of mortals, provoking young men into risking their lives for glory, your bastard off-springs with mortal women causing chaos and disrupting the course of history, never speak of honour to me god of thunder.”

Mottled with anger, I was about drawing Ọ̀she when a sense of forbear warned me of the approach of a being of power.

“Greetings great sage.” Ogun ignored me to welcome Orunmilla the Orisha of wisdom. The elder god has taken the form of a very old man appareled in silken cotton thrown over a shoulder toga like, his mane of hair and beards as white as corn meal, he watched us both with deep ancient eyes filled with reproach.

“The elders says the sky is wide enough for birds to fly without collision, but alas how the two of you manage to clash constantly baffles me.

Hõwù....like two goats tied together and stubbornly moving away in opposite directions, they can neither be free nor progress. Surely you must know that your rivalry demeans you and not the other way around, for when others mouths about you saying if you don’t fight you remain equals, but if you do fight then one of you wins but do not forget that the winner gets weaker as a result and thus becomes prey for another but it matters not, my word are like the passing of farts, it stays for a while and then is dispersed, you both are stubborn mules and will not see to reason but that is not why I am here.”

“Surely you too have seen the danger opposed by the travelers my lord farsighter.” I implored pointing at the great ships anchored at sea, “they are a threat to our way of life, their new religion will force us out and we will be forgotten.”

“Do you not see beyond your selfishness Olúkòso, for i have seen dark days ahead for the mortals, dark murky days of bondage and torment, enough to bring tears unto my unblinking eyes, do you not also fear for their future as well?” Ọ̀rúnmìlà asked bemused.

“Whatever consequence awaits them, they surely deserve for forsaking us for the white man’s gods.” I sneered. “else what better way to avoid such calamities than to send the foreigners back across the sea from whence they came, we can fight back, even if our people won’t fight for us, i can send storms to wreak their ships, Shọ̀pono can send plague amidst them, and Ogun will create a bloodbath the likes man have never seen that never again will they step foot on these shores.” But the great sage sadly shook his head.

“Perchance lord Shango you have forgotten the task bestowed upon us by Eledunmare the creator of everything, we are but custodians of whatever aspect we have dominion over, do not for once think the elements you wield belongs to you. Every mortal is born with a free will, the free will to live his life as he sees fit, the belief that Orí the prorate of Ayanmọ (destiny) serves as a yardstick for their circumstance is not quite true, the mortals chose their own fate, and if it is their kismet that they forget us then so be it.”

Ogun and I starred at this. “but my lord, this will mean the end of our pantheon and the collapse of our dynasty, our culture will be forgotten and our people will be lost.”

“What will be will be Ogun Ônire, but everything has an end no matter how enduring and long, pantheons has come and gone, dynasties has risen and has fallen. A new age is upon us, the age of man and advancement, we await and see what comes of it, a new world it will be indeed." The elder god mused and continued.

"I bring you words from king Obàtálá, the first of his final decree, we do not interface in the affairs of mortals, from now on we stop all physical interactions, we do not concern ourselves with their quarrels and warfare, failure to heed his command will bring ruination, let he who have ears let him hear.” the elder god ended his speech with a warning and then he was gone as mysteriously as he had arrived. Ogun vanished immediately after and i was left to my dark thoughts.

I felt another power approach, intruding on my conflicting thoughts.

“What do you want Ògiri Ọ̀kò.” I growled, resisting the urge to smack the stupid smile off his face. Lanróyè the messenger god was in his wanderer aspect, dressed as a traveller; a knapsack across his back and flinging a barbed club carelessly, he was bald except a knob of hair at the middle of his head, his feet were dusty from the road.

“I was just passing by when I saw the three of you convening on the spot, I decided to come say hello.”

“Really convincing of you.” I snapped, “you missed your friend Orúnmìlà by a millisecond, I have no dealings with you spider for oil and water do not mix.”

“You hurt me Jakuta.” Lanróyè said a faking a frown, “I have always have your best interests at heart inspite of our differences.”

“Well if you are here to deliver the king’s decree, do not waste your saliva, Orúnmìlà the father of Agbọnmèrègun was here before you.”

“That is not why I am here.” Lanróyè waved away, “quite a few of the Orisha were not happy with the proclamation, some think the Arch divinity must be losing his touch.”

“if you have come here to entrap me with words of rebellion spidery one I shall make you swallow a lightening bolt.” I growled in warning.

“Hōwu Shango, why would I incite trickery at a time like this in the face of an event that could be the end of us all, I assure you you are not alone in your anger for Aróní the great also has cause to be incensed, the foreigners cut down great trees from his sacred forests to repair their ships and slay his animals for their pelts, their tusks and for sport.”

“Well Obàtálá has spoken, he means for us to sit through all the abuse until our people began to think the foreign religion has rendered us powerless.” I spat into the sea.

“verily this is not the first time king Obàtálá will make an error in judgement after all he nearly fumbled with the creation of ile-ife when he drank himself to stupor.”

Lanroye shrugged in response to my shocked face and continued. “We were tasked by the creator to guide our people, our king said we have already failed, but him giving up is the real failure, I shall tell you a secret; Obàtálá is old and tired and he wishes to slumber but as Orisha he cannot die even if he wants to, so tell me which other way can he make his wish come to fruition.”

“Unbelief, the power of unbelief.” i heard my hoarse voice over the loud beating of my heart, the anger starting to brew in my chest. “he means to make the mortals forget us, makes us powerless and rendered obsolete, for without their worship we will eventually fade into oblivion.”

Lanróyè nodded at this, for once the jolly face of his grave and serious. “That is why we need to fight back and put the fear of the Orisha back into the fleeting hearts of the humans, I am fighting back, Aróní is already fighting back, what says you oh fiery eyed one who’s spittle are tongues of fire, are you the king you once were who is second to none or are you Obatálá’s lackey?”

“I am Shango the Lord husband of Oya, I am storm, I am fire, I am death.”

I raged as I made a beeline for the Portuguese traders, the me in the dream has only his flaming eyes for his prey as he drew his battle axe but the me in the present saw the wide grin of triumph on Lanróyè the trickster god’s face as he disappeared in a cloud of smoke.

And no matter how much I cried I could not warn my old self from breaking my King’s decree and bringing about my ruin.