Moremi’s Triumph [Historical fiction]

“Moremi entered the town of Ife, after six months in captive. Drums heralded her approach along with a thousand amazons.

“Living was stalled for a brief moment to reconcile reality. A woman has achieved what a legion of men couldn’t in three years against the Igbo-ora people

“Her son rushed off to her embrace in sheer delight but Moremi burst into tears amidst the merry of the day. In seven days, all shall see the tears as beyond the delight of happiness.

‘Grandpa, why would she cry if not for happiness?’ 

‘Let’s just say, she has a greater task ahead’

My grandpa was a good story teller. He keeps a piece of information obscure until reason tells you more or curiosity pushes you to dig deeper.

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Moremi was a Yoruba heroine who saved her people of Ile-Ife from extinction from a belligerent tribe. The image uncannily looks like hers to me. Click the link to read a short piece of this hero and what she did.

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This has been made possible by the goodwill and fervent addiction of Rochellewisofffields and her creative gang of writers who converge weekly as the Friday Fictioneers. Click on the Linky Icon to read greater stories…

Rites of Passage [Historical Fiction]

I have heard about the journey. I have doubted its existence. I had pondered why a brother would take his own captive.

But here, it’s happening to me.

The Arochukwu priest chants cleansing incantations as we go through the last place to be called home, the corridor to the after-life as we know it.

“Is this all to the initiation rites?” a teenager asked, looking back at me.

The Passage

I pondered where such thoughts came from…

“Yes, hope you’ve had a time of your life?”

“Times have changed; Papa told me different stories from this”

Sure. We are captives of our own clan. We tugged on to a waiting ship.

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This is an account of the slave trade era. The much taunted Atlantic Slave Trade, Where African were as culpable [if not much more] as their European counterparts. The story sets in an Eastern Nigerian village, where the Arochukwu Priests (Custodians of Customs and Religion) witch-hunted ordinary men to sell as slaves.

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This has been made possible by the goodwill and fervent addiction of Rochellewisofffields and her creative gang of writers who converge weekly as the Friday Fictioneers. Click on the Linky Icon to read greater stories…

Strings… [Historical Fiction]

A warm welcome to all Friday Fictioneers and a happy new year. We are back at it again and may this new year make us more committed to our blogs and improve our art…I am grateful for all thoughtful comments on this blog and followers, thank you!

It’s another friday, so we are back at Rochellewisofffields’ cafe. Feel free to hop in and read other fictioneers and do leave a comment behind–it tells us your are reading!

 

PHOTO: Roger Cohen

On the passage, John had fared by soothing the nerves of boarders with strings from his tonga.

At 5.4 feet and a 50kg body mass people mock his survival chances in the new world but fate holds something different…

At the Indian massacre, John played away to the tune of commerce but to his final capture.

In captive, every pull of the strings drew a maiden his way.

When Ponhatan, head-tribesman, was to strike with a club, the maiden couldn’t see her cord pull away so soon…

The next day, John was ashore pulling on his strings and Pocahontas gladly sleeps at the sound of his cords…