1897.
11th May 2020.
In the age when time was still buried in the womb of memory, when myth sprout grass that reality laid upon. The time when the earth was flat and the kings of the skies would sit and observe the earth float towards oblivion. It was a time before time itself and spirits roamed the galaxy in different forms and walked backwards. The world began when the Kings of the skies separated day from night and threw a rope into the well of damnation for the earth to save itself. History notes that the Kings of the skies were black beings. They wore no shades and their true majesty was in the divinity of their nakedness. The women had long hair that curled at their toe nails. The men were dandy and had long white beards that highlighted their black hair. They created seas and hills, animals and fowls, abstractions and concepts, rivers and deserts, sands and dust, air and death, light and darkness, sun and the moon. They spat out stars to keep the moon company at night and they let tears fall from their eyes to allow the earth receive rain. They sparked thunderbolts, flood and famine when they spoke in anger. And when their lust overcame them, allowing their lushed bodies cringed to their touch, the universe burned in reflection of their heightened intensity. Their brows would break as they climaxed. They would fly on their toes as their waist curved to release their spawns. Time saved these spawns from being destroyed and they grew up in different parts of the world. Wherever they landed, they grew and owned. They all had names that lived even after their death. Amadioha, sango, Moremi, Amina, oya, Ogiso, Oduduwa, and Bayajida were all children of the skies. In death, they were reverenced, in life, they were feared. Being children of the skies, they were all powerful. It was said that some walked on water and some traveled through different dimensions and moved easily through astral projections. They created men and beings as they chose and became the gods that men could see. This was the time that the Black men ruled existence. The children of men created altars for the children of the skies. The children of the skies ruled vast acres that eyes and thoughts couldn’t cover. Men who walked to find the depth of their kingdoms lost their legs. The children of the skies commanded the tears of their creators to fall endlessly and they made the sun stand in one place. In their anger, the day ceased and the nights got pregnant and gave birth to more nights. They owned slaves and fame, lives and deaths, success and regret, love and hate, sand, blood and dust. Wars were rare in their time but when it happened, they returned wrapped in mountains of human heads. People who sought for their faces took days climbing these heads. When the children of the skies had lived to their full, they joined the Skies and became Rulers of the skies themselves. They were superior to death. Their kingdoms grew in strength and beauty. The children of the skies made love with the children of the world as their parents before them did. This act made them give birth to children. Hence, when they left, their children reigned in their stead. The people allowed this because there was nothing more sacred than the divine legitimacy bestowed than when gods ruled men. In the age when time was precious in the womb of memory, this was the legacy that black men lived and died to and although they were not written, the stories passed from mouth to ears and from one generation to the next.
When the White men came to the Black continent in birds and boats, they were amazed at the way the children of men had grown in the wisdom that the children of the skies had left behind. There was a particular empire that shared supreme greatness that the white men coveted most. A city whose nights were shielded by the burning lamplights that burned in the verandah and rooftops of the city. A city whose streets wore ivory and golden tusks. The beauty of the city sent lust to the desires of the white man and he wanted the city to satisfy his greed. A city whose history took a leap in time in 1987. When the British came to Benin, their lens kept shuttering and their lips broke its hinges and lost the ability to close. They had heard of a continent where the men slept naked and the women slept with monkeys. They did not see traces of blood and the skeletons of human heads on the streets. Instead, they saw red earth that glistened from the shadows of the skies. The fragrance of natural delicacies and sweat made their nose twitch. Their eyes were disappointed with the art the people possessed. They not only owned them, but wore them. The men had coral beads that rested on their succulent flesh and bracelets that sat on their protruded belly. The women wore beads around their locks, and rings that swallowed their ears. Their brown skin, colors of simple perfection. It was said that Benin had a night that glowed. The streets shone as if the earth was made from glowing diamonds. The silver that the chiefs wore woke up at night and made their hut look like a glowing cave. Each household owned a bamboo stick placed in front of their homes. A simple contraption that housed a lamp with fire that burned deep into the day. It was beautiful. With time, more foreigners came to see the black wonders of the world. These foreigners were poisoned with the delusion of superiority. They defined their upper hand because of the skin they wore and decided to rewrite our history so that the rest of their world would not stumble from the truth of the perfection of the black world. Where they saw beauty, they reported barbaric. Where diversity was accommodated, they called Paganism. When they saw the beautiful mothers that walked only with their glowing tribal tattoos, they called it indecency. They marveled when the people showed them the tricks that the children of the skies had taught them. The people of Benin walked on fire, healed broken bones and turned invisible. The white men called it devilish tricks. A practice from a demon that their own fathers had told them of. Benin grew in trade and beauty, the same way the children of the skies had ruled their empire. The white men practice grew from trade and then to humans. They fascinated Benin with their silver tongue and tried to teach the children their own ways. The western ways. But it was all about culture. It was the culture they feared. They knew that a people bounded by a culture they believed in could not be broken. It was like trying to cut water with a knife. Hence, they tried to introduce their philosophies and religion. They tried to poison the roots of our culture by preaching a code of morality that did not apply to them. They tried to combat truth with fear and lies. They saw the city that never fell to darkness and wanted to submit to their greed by owning the empire. They desecrated the altars of the children of the skies with their words and preached Exodus 20; 4 where their own Maker had preached against other gods. But Exodus 20; 17 didn’t apply to the white men for they believed that it was their own divine right to own it all. Their ploy failed. The people of Benin told them blankly to leave the discussion open for trade talks only. ‘Before you came, we had our own messiahs. They have not forsaken us yet. Where was your god when Ogiso ruled the deserts and the seas? When he walked on water and commanded all beings to obey him? Okpia ni wo? Where was your god? We will not jump our boat when we know that the ways of the world cannot sink it.’ They said. Years later, more men came, tried and failed again.
The white man’s greed grew. He dreamt of guns and bringing war to the doorstep of the people of Benin. He wanted to sack the huts with neatly knotted palm fronds and use magic fire to burn the farms and villages. He wanted to spit on the sanctity and sacredness of the shrines. He wanted to rip the pages of the Benin history and desecrate our deities with his foreign tongue. With his gun pointed to Benin, he wanted to force his steps into the black history books. He dreamt of placing black men in mental and metal cuffs, sailing them through the Atlantic and compelling them to a life of servitude. He saw them tilling plantations and placing the fruit of their labor on the white man’s table. He wanted to fill their tummies with leftovers and make sure they ate their own black children in harsh winters. He wanted to fulfill his dream in the same year he had it. 1897.
History recalls the event in 1897 as the dance of fire. The white man came in birds and boats with guns and gadgets whose only aim was death and destruction. They drafted plans on papers and sought the ways of their own fathers to take over the kingdom that the children of the sky had left behind. They sent two messengers to the Oba Ovonramwen of Benin, a son of the sky, asking him to surrender and submit to the order of the white force or face being deposed as the Oba of Benin. The messengers sang as they advanced to Benin, they walked haughtily to the palace, surveying the golden street that they would own and use as they wish. Before dusk, one of them returned to the camp holding a big box. Some soldiers had seen him dragging his feet and crying inaudibly. It wasn’t until they got closer that they saw that his tongue had been cut off. With the aid of ink and paper, he told them that the Iyase, Prime minister of the Benin Empire had cut off his tongue after he had called Ovonramwen ‘An effing Monkey’. A divine sacrilege. He was only spared so that he would live a fate worse than death. The colonel in charge promised to get a piece of Iyase if they met in the battle front. They buried the box without opening the severed body of the other messenger.
The next day, the day of the dance of fire, the white men advanced towards Benin. They met the warriors of Igodomigodo on the bush path. They rubbed coal on their faces and their feet were painted with mud. They sang and danced as the white men advanced. Somewhere distant, a drum was beating but the people could hear it as if it was close. It was a drum of war. When the white men had almost reached the warriors, they were surprised when a batch of invisible men appeared behind them. The white men took aim. Guns cocked but bullets were too scared to leave their cartridge. They heard footsteps and saw footraces running but saw no one. Bodies that ran but were not seen. They heard voices and searched frantically for the beings that sang so ghastly. The forest breathed life and roared. Sands turned to glass and the sun stood in one direction. The white men were surrounded by voices but they felt alone in this war. They called on their gods but their answers were not louder than the songs that the people of Benin sang. After what seemed like a long time, A priest walked up to the soldiers of the white men and pointed at an empty path behind them. ‘Akian a ye ware. Leave and never return’. Whether they were surprised with the orchestration that had displayed before them or fear had scared vigor out of their legs, they stood. Fear in their eyes and their faces buried in tears, they stood. It was the dry season but the chill of fear they felt left their fingers trembling and their lips chattering. The priest, known as Igueben, was one of the great grandchildren of the children of the skies and he had immense power. He let out a laugh that was echoed by the warriors of Igodomigodo that stood behind him. Then he spat and pointed at two white men. Immediately, they let out a deep piercing scream and turned into dust. He did this to three other white men as they all fled in different directions. As they ran, they heard the drums more clearly and their lips erupted into an uncontrollable flame of fire. Igueben had thrown a grenade of fear and curiosity in their mind and it had exploded and left behind shrapnel of trauma and regret. The kings of the skies watched as the white man ran and the people of Benin danced and ran with invisible bodies. The Kings of the skies celebrated and drank palm wine. When the wine left behind foam in the side of their mouth, they wiped it off and it caused a drizzle in the land. The people of Benin saw this as a sign of the gods celebrating with them and extended the celebration of the dance of fire for a month. As they celebrated on earth, the king and children of the skies celebrated, made love and shared nostalgia about a lonely age when time was still buried in the womb of memory and they alone, ruled the universe.