In the vibrant market town where I came of age, I found myself at a crossroads, surrounded by a multitude of suitors vying for my heart. The choices before me were intriguing and perplexing. Should I opt for the prosperous merchant, the quick-witted jester, the strikingly handsome charmer, or the one who stirred the deepest emotions within me? The decision weighed on me like an anchor, tugging at my soul.

Some advised me to follow my heart, to let the intoxicating allure of passion be my compass in this sea of choices. Others argued that reason should prevail, urging me to seek stability and security in a marriage. But in the end, neither passion nor logic would define my choice. Instead, it was an unexpected path that led me to the love of my life.

Olamilekan, the man who would capture my heart, wasn’t the wealthiest, the most dashing, or the funniest of my suitors. Yet, there was a warmth and kindness in him that outshone all the rest.

Olamilekan and I didn’t share a passionate, whirlwind romance. In fact, among all those who courted me, he was the most unassuming suitor. Our daily interactions were simple and polite, as we exchanged “ekaro” while going about our respective tasks. His stall, positioned opposite my mother’s cloth trading booth, only sprung to life during harvest seasons when he sold the bounty of his farm. What intrigued me, however, was the steady stream of gratitude from passers-by, thanking him for the countless small favours he had done for them.

In the end, I realized that a man who radiated warmth and compassion, touching the lives of others with such genuine care, was the one I wanted as my life partner.

A few years into our marriage, I conceived and bore children. Our businesses thrived, and peace and harmony reigned within our family; everything seemed perfect.

It was a day we eagerly awaited, the “harvest” festival, where we celebrated and thanked God for the fruitful year. My husband, Olamilekan, had gone ahead to the Palace. He was tasked with supplying yams to the King’s kitchen. I was to join him later, as the festivities started at the Palace before extending to the streets and homes.

On that fateful day, Lekan looked stunningly handsome, adorned in Sanyan, a regal attire reserved for the affluent members of our society. He was my king, and I wanted him to be seen as such by all.

“Olamilekan, the only man envied for his beauty in all of Karaole,” I remarked, admiring him as he adjusted his agbada and cap. He smiled, responding, “Aya mi,” and headed out with confidence.

We were supposed to wear matching clothes – Lekan, myself, and our children – a beautiful way to identify the various families gathered at the Palace. Just as we were about to leave, I heard my name shouted from a distance.

My husband, Olamilekan, had suddenly collapsed, shaking uncontrollably, and strange bruises covered his body. The nightmare didn’t end after that dreadful day at the harvest festival. Olamilekan’s mysterious illness, left us in a relentless grip of despair. What was initially thought to be a passing ailment stretched into five agonizing years of bitterness and sorrow.

As I desperately searched for a cure, we lost everything. Our once-thriving businesses dwindled to nothing, and hunger began to gnaw at our stomachs. The villagers, driven by fear of the illness that had befallen Lekan, isolated my children and me. The same people my husband had extended his helping hand to, now turned their backs on us.

Our situation continued to deteriorate, and we found ourselves in a desolate place where no one would lend us a morsel of food or a coin of assistance. It was a harsh reality, and I felt utterly alone. Many advised me to abandon Lekan, take my children, and seek refuge in a neighboring village to start anew. But I clung to hope, believing that one day, my beloved Lekan would rise to his feet again.

Then came another bitter day. I decided to seek financial assistance from Lekan’s best friend, hoping for a glimmer of relief. However, I was stunned by his vile proposition. He agreed to help, but only if I allowed him to lay with me. Overwhelmed by anger and frustration, I hastily left his house, heading aimlessly into the distance.

As I walked for miles, lost in my thoughts and the unfamiliar surroundings, I suddenly realized that I had ventured deep into a dense forest.

As I desperately tried to retrace my steps and escape the unforgiving forest that had ensnared me, my efforts proved futile. I couldn't contain my frustration any longer. I screamed and, in my anger and despair, uttered blasphemous words directed toward the supreme being.

"Why did you let such a calamity befall a good and kind man?" I cried. Unbeknownst to me, my lamentations were carried by the forest wind, catching the attention of an old man who had ventured into the woods in search of herbs and bark from the trees.

The old man cautioned me, "Woman, be careful. Do you want to attract wild animals? Just as your cries have drawn my attention, they could lure creatures that care little about your plight."

I wiped my tears and apologized for my inappropriate disturbance. When he asked about my problem, I explained that I was lost. Taking my hand, he guided me out of the woods, but to my surprise, we emerged in another village.

"Fear not. This is Falodun village, a village of diviners," he reassured me.

"I am a cloth trader, and I have never heard of this village before," I replied, puzzled by the unfamiliar surroundings.

"That's because it remains unnoticed by mere eyes. I believe your distress led you to me" he said with a knowing look. As I observed the villagers, I noticed that they were all dressed in various colours symbolizing the gods they worshipped. My saviour was adorned in white, suggesting his devotion to Obatala, the god of purity and creation.

We arrived at a humble hut, which I assumed was the old man’s dwelling. Inside, we were warmly greeted by two little girls who offered us food and water. My hunger overcame me, and I began to devour my meal, but I stopped abruptly, disgusted by my own behaviour. Here I was, eating voraciously while my children were starving.

“Eat until you’re satisfied; you can take more to your children,” the old man reassured me with a kind smile.

I was taken aback. “How did you know...” I began to ask.

“I told you that you were led to me. I am aware of all your troubles,” he replied calmly.

“Then why did this evil befall him, us?” I questioned, my voice quivering with frustration.

The old man leaned in, his eyes filled with a knowing wisdom. “Well, let us say it was his act of kindness.”

“What?” I couldn’t believe my ears.

“You see, your husband rendered assistance to someone bound by the terrestrial mothers and was punished for it” he explained.

“So, all of this was the reward for his kindness? How cruel is fate?” I exclaimed.

“Such is life – fair and unfair” he replied sagely.

“That’s all nonsense” I retorted angrily.

The old man unfazed by my outburst, continued. “You see, Lekan had rendered assistance to my apprentice before. One day, I sent her to buy chickens that would be used for rituals. Not that we don’t have any here, but that was what was requested by the gods. When she got to your village, she lost the money. Afraid to return, she embarked on a futile search for the money. No one in your village offered her any help, except for Lekan, who not only gave her money for one but two fowls.”

The revelation left me stunned, realizing that my husband’s kindness had woven intricate threads between our lives and the gods.

The old man’s words hung in the air, sinking deep into my heart. “Your husband has helped the gods; it is time for him to reap his reward” he declared. With a sense of purpose, he reached for some of the herbs he had gathered earlier and provided me with detailed instructions on how to use them.

Escorted by the two little girls, I made my way back to my village. Upon our arrival, I wasted no time in following the old man’s instructions. I administered the herbs to Lekan, and within days, a miracle occurred. My beloved husband, who had suffered for so long, began to regain his strength, rising to his feet once more.

We attempted to find the mysterious Falodun village, but it seemed to have vanished, leaving us with a sense of wonder and gratitude.

Our lives soon returned to the way they were, and Lekan continued his good deeds, only now with the knowledge that sometimes, the rewards of kindness could be blessings and well, maybe curse.