CHAPTER 11
It’s cap-picking ceremony day.
The last cap-picking ceremony took place ten years ago when Dedewe, Foyoyin, and Radeke, three widows, had the opportunity to choose new men.
If the question, “What is a cap-picking ceremony?” was lingering in your head, I hope it’s cleared up now.
Rogba serenaded the environment with the sweet tune of his flute, as he was the village flute player. He blew a very ancient tune; one that could summon the dead, one that recorded the experiences of the former men of the land. But Rogba was not the only one bringing melody, there were also rare chanters who chanted lyrics of the olden days, which roused warriors to battle.
The minstrels also sang excellent songs of the universe, songs of fallen heroes, and great landmarks. They sang songs that told the stories of the world; culture, lifestyle, beliefs, thoughts, philosophies, ideologies, and in the middle of all these, humans.
It was Yaremi’s turn to pick a cap. The elders sat in the village square, nodding their heads in satisfaction. Dedewe, Fayoyin, and Radeke sat in the crowd, praying for their colleague. They had visited her the night before to pledge their solidarity and support. After all, they had been on trial before; faced before people who cared very little about who they married, but were just there for the show.
“We wore the caps”
“The caps fit us well”
“We forgave those who made us chant the widow’s lamentation to prove our innocence”
“We re-married”
“Blissful days are here, pitiful days are over”
These were the types of encouragement the three women gave to befuddled Yaremi.
So, the ceremony begins;
A wooden bench was placed under the tree shade, and upon the wooden bench were three traditional caps. On a low stool in front, bitter kola, alligator pepper, a bottle of honey, and locally made gin amongst others were placed.
The first cap was on the left-hand side. It was Ayan shaped; regal, standing tall and slender. It was a badge cap, highly attractive and enticing. It was said that one who picked such a cap would never lack happiness. The owner of the cap was usually meek and gentle. He would submit to the sharp tongue of his wife, grind pepper, and spread the mat for her amongst others.
The second cap was the Labankada – the cap of an artiste. It was decorated with cowries and beautiful threads. It was an Olona-shaped cap, made of the expensive sanyan. The cap was giving wealth and prosperity. The voice of the rare chanters stated that whosoever picked it would be affluent. The owner is affectionate and provides his bride peace of mind.
The third cap was the gobi cap. It had the shape of one married to a farm worker. Guess the owner?
1
2
3
4…
Yes! Lanwa! Good job. If Lanwa is difficult for you to remember, associate it with the word “lawn mower”.
Lanwa’s cap depicted abundance and self-sufficiency. It tilted to the back like the beak of the kingfisher. The owner of the Lanwa cap was amiable and always had a smile on his face, amongst others.
Yaremi watched, nervous. What was she going to do with the three caps?
She cast a deep, hesitating look upon the caps. The three widows were flashing her warning stares;
“Take your time”
“Choose wisely”
“No pressure”
If only they knew that that was enough pressure.
To their oblivion, Yaremi had made her decision. She moved from cap to cap, till the last, then she turned, bowed before the elders, and retreated to her house.
No be them go tell her wetin she go do.
Missed chapter 8? Click here to catch up.
