Chapter 2
Confronting Fate: A Dance with Èsù
Èsù held a revered position as an orisha in the Yoruba religion. He served as a mediator between humans and other orishas, acting as a messenger and trickster, bridging the gap between the physical and spiritual realms. Èsù could convey messages, bestow blessings, or cause mischief and turmoil. All orishas had a purpose, and Èsù had his too. Maybe Èsù wanted to challenge his fate or to change Bayo's fate. But one thing was sure: Èsù had moved, so there was bound to be a change. Whether it was good or bad would depend on people's perceptions, as Èsù believed they were two sides of the same coin.
Bayo harbored doubts regarding the orishas and their power. He yearned for their disappearance and eventual oblivion. Though not oblivious to their existence, he had never experienced their influence firsthand. He faced his hardships alone, without any assistance from the orishas. They seemed to disregard him and his troubles, causing him to lose respect for them and desire their departure.
Èsù, the mischievous ancient orisha, was well aware of Bayo's thoughts, yet he maintained a poker face. How could he not see through Bayo's hypocrisy? He couldn't overlook such a contradiction. It had become the norm for him - whenever he passed by people, they would either tremble in fear and confess their admiration or admire him and confess their fear. He had grown accustomed to it, and if such a thing never happened, it would mean he didn't exist.
Disguised as the Old Man, Èsù smirked at Bayo, thinking, 'Humans are completely oblivious to their suffering.' He glanced at Bayo's Asaro and muttered, "I could use a good meal." Without hesitation, he barged in uninvited. Following Bayo, he plopped heavily on the furniture, causing it to groan under his weight. Bayo sat down cautiously, afraid of breaking the chairs.
"Why fret over the uncertainties of this fleeting existence," he shook his head at Bayo and continued, "when the unknown is a shared experience for all?" He couldn't help but find the whole situation absurd.
But Bayo felt different about what Èsù said, questioning, 'What did Èsù mean by all?' Has Èsù ever faced his situation? Bayo hoped that Èsù would disappear. He wondered why Èsù even came in the first place. As Èsù's gaze lingered on him, Bayo's muscles tensed involuntarily, his fist clenching tighter at his side. Beneath the surface, a torrent of apprehension surged through him. Memories of childhood tales warning of Èsù's trickery flickered in his mind, igniting a primal fear rooted in the unknown. Yet, he forced himself to maintain a facade of composure, masking his unease behind a stoic expression.
"Survival often demands forging your path," Èsù remarked abruptly, his words carrying a weighty significance. Despite the clarity of his advice, there remained a shroud of mystery around his intentions, leaving Bayo to wonder about the depths of Èsù's wisdom and the true extent of his influence. It was as if Èsù was offering guidance while simultaneously concealing deeper truths, adding to the intrigue of their encounter. Bayo slowly looked up, trying to decipher Èsù's thoughts, but he only saw a blank expression. Èsù concealed all hints.
"Learn the ancient ways before attempting to create new ones," Èsù spoke softly, his voice undertoned with wisdom. He sighed and added, "Our traditions hold the keys to understanding the fabric of existence." His eyes gleamed with a mysterious knowing, hinting at depths of knowledge beyond mortal comprehension. He knew Bayo was too naive to understand the natural order, let alone change it. The idea of Bayo relentlessly pursuing his absurdity was even funnier than the laughter of a hyena.
Èsù then glanced at Bayo's perfectly cooked Asaro and dismissed it with a hint of sadness in his voice. "It pains me to see you suffer so greatly," Èsù shook his head as if he had a shred of sympathy for Bayo, knowing that he would push him into the flames the moment he had the opportunity.
Listening to Èsù's cryptic words, Bayo couldn't help but feel that this guy was up to no good again. He was certain Èsù was here to make things worse. But why did he set his sights on him? What could he possibly gain from defeating a man who was already down? Before Bayo fully comprehended what was happening, his Asaro vanished, and Èsù unveiled a wicked smile. Bayo's heart raced, ready to burst from his chest. He clenched his fists, wondering, 'Does the world even care about my pain?' He clung to the faint possibility of a negative outcome. He wanted to justify his loathing for it with something more than his prejudice.
Bayo's hands tightened into fists, his knuckles cracking with audible sounds as he fought against the overwhelming urge to strike Èsù. He knew too well that giving in to his anger would only allow Èsù to erase him. With a heavy heart, he suppressed his rage and, in a silent voice, questioned, "Why?" Deep down, he desperately wished that his pain and sorrow were nothing but illusions. Tears streamed down his bloodshot eyes, his body trembling like a machine gun.
Èsù paid no attention to Bayo's suffering, seemingly indifferent to his distress. He calmly savored the food, starkly contrasting with Bayo's inner turmoil. After relishing the taste and nodding in approval, he turned to Bayo with a concerned tone, "You and I have a problem, and you have the power to save..." His voice trailed off, leaving the sentence incomplete. "When it's just one problem," Èsù continued with newfound excitement, "we might not call it a world problem, but when there are two, it's definitely a world problem." He emphasized each pause, hoping Bayo would understand.
Bayo's disdain for Èsù was palpable as he declared, "I have no concern for the world," his hand tightly clenched in frustration. To him, the world's troubles held no significance.
Ignoring Bayo's defiance, Èsù focused on crafting a smoking calabash, leaving Bayo to ponder the meaning of life and death.
Examining the calabash, Èsù confidently stated, "Only luck holds significance. Give the game of fate a try," before vanishing into thin air, leaving an air of mystery.
Bayo struggled to comprehend Èsù's cryptic message, his distrust towards the enigmatic orisha growing deeper. As he faced the dilemma of choosing between the white or the black bead, Bayo hesitated, wondering if there was a hidden third option or if inaction held the answer to the puzzle.
After a conflicting battle raged in his mind, Bayo resolved to place the beads and cowries from Èsù on his headboard before collapsing onto his bed, feeling the gnawing hunger in his stomach. The storm of emptiness tossed him around on the creaky, unsteady bed as he stared at the broken ceiling in the darkness, teeth clenched in frustration. Doubt clouded his mind as he questioned his trust in the deceitful orisha, knowing that Èsù had approached him with manipulation in mind. "The weak have no peace," he groaned in annoyance.
As Bayo lay there, memories of his hometown flooded back. He recalled how his pessimistic demeanor often clashed with the residents, who branded him as an animal due to his cynicism. Whenever he felt the vigor to do so, he would debate that animals enjoyed a superior and lengthier existence to humans. After all, he had witnessed the wild firsthand and spent most of his nights there in peaceful slumber.