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Jinakpa! Jinakpa! Jinakpa! I call the spirits of your forefathers to prepare your ears to listen to this gossip well so you can tell the tale in proverbs when next you go for the meeting of the ancestors.
Jinakpa, do you remember the last time we had our gossip at the Royal Cemetery at the instance of some of the ancestors? Do you remember how some of them were angry at the happenings in the Palace? Remember some of the ancestors shed tears after they heard that some of the Royals were sharing the lands and Royal titles like broken cola nuts.
So, how heartbroken the ancestral community became after that gossip was what got me thinking and I decided not to gossip for some moons now. But as an Kamara in the Palace, gossip is my breakfast to the Royal Horse and his subjects.
Jinakpa, your Royal Horse is blinded by his own eyes. The Horse has two broken legs (front right and back left). The Horse has a bruised tongue. And with all these predicaments, your Palace doors and windows are even broken so the leftover food at the palace can easily be stolen my stray cats.
Since that door was broken by some deliberate hands whose umbilical cords are attached to the inner circles of the palace, even gossips from the royals which mostly are sacred and abomination to the ears of the barren women, have now become the words of the gong gong beater at the market square. Maiming the Royal Horse is now traditional duty by those who swore to protect him.
Jinakpa, the great sons you left at the entrances to your Kingdom who were charged to bath your Royal Horse, feed him and help him to pass judgements on your behalf have left him to starve for words of wisdom. Even your appellations are no longer important in the Palace because the royals have refused to pay the drummers to drum them.
Even your white skins which were gods to the Royal Horse and his royals have been abandoned and replaced with decorated modern sofa. When the Royal refuses to sit on the skins, how is he bound by the oath of the gods? So he speaks the words of his heart and not of the gods and still swear by the skins in vain. What a Royal!
Jinakpa, we were told by the wise old woman who has served her 99 years in the palace that in the days when royalty was precious, you taught your Royal Horses not to neigh when the women in the palace see their period.
But today the Linguists, the Sakpares, the drummers, the Kingmakers and the Warriors mostly force him to neigh, and when he does, the interpreter decides the pitch of the neigh depending upon how thirsty they (linguist, Warriors, Imams, etc) are and not how the words of the gods are supposed to serve justice and protect the subject of your Kingdom.
Jinakpa, your Royal Horse has lost his grey hairs and he’s dying silently. And your sons are waiting patiently to devour his remains. The struggle to change positions in the palace is what is causing the disappearance of the grey hair of the Royal Horse.
Imagine the Sakpares and the Kamaras struggling to be royals, drummers becoming celebrated warriors, and the royals becoming corrupted slaves in their own palace, why won’t the Royal Horse starve of wisdom?
Royals have crossed rivers and mountains to lay claims on other skins even when the gods frown on that. Royals have pointed guns at their own blood and enskin some caretakers of the palace cattle as Queen Mothers, why and how will the gods answer our Lords Prayer? When the Royal Horse finally got maimed by his own hands, Warriors refused to dance with two tails of the lion because their legs would no longer move in tandem with the sound of the drums but the sound of their hungry stomachs.
Drummers don’t know the appellations of the palace any longer but can drum to the admiration of strangers who are ready to oil the palms of the drums. Bachelors have become advisors to the men with several wives and multitude of concubines. What a palace!
Jinakpa, what type of Royal did you leave to lead your kingdom and take care of the palace? What type of a Royal is he who doesn’t know his appellation? What type of a Royal is he who cannot ride the palace horse? A Royal who doesn’t eat from the palace bowl? A Royal who can easily be seduced by the slave girl? A cursed Royal he is then!
Jinakpa, your skins you left and made permanent at each entry point to your kingdom are now strangely switching positions.
Bole is now going for Kpembe while Kusawgu is comfortably heading for Wasipe. Tuluwe has already gone for Kong while Buipe has swallowed Debre. But strangely Busunu is heading Kiyagbon. Jinakpa, if the ancestors don’t cause a thunder to strike in the next few moons, a palace sacrilege is about to befall your Kingdom.
The next time we wake up, the Royal Horse himself will be the drummer and the royals will be drawers of water for the slaves’ dog. That time is coming soon and not sooner to meet the last breath of the Royal Horse.
How can I end this gossip without telling you how your royals and the warriors have decided to go hunting for the trees you used their leaves and branches as defenders of a wondering wind and the roots as herbs. Those trees have suddenly become enemies to the Kingdom so the Royals and the warriors have decided to kill them with their own hands and might.
They are not even leaving those you used as food in the days of your great battles. The last tree left at the entrance of the palace will be killed for sacrifice in the next rainy day by the warriors and the royals in your Palace.
Jinakpa, truth which use to be appellations on the lips of your Royal Horse has been replaced with hypocrisy, politics and witchcraft. Truth and Justice have become as scarce as the horn of a donkey.
Jinakpa, the sun now rises from the west and set in the east, so your kingdom takes its steps backwards as the sun. Jinakpa, imagine this scenario; Dukulubi’s rival, Mma Matuamu who was barren for 17 years has suddenly given birth to quadruplets a day after Dukulubi lost all her five sons. Well...they say it was some display of witchcraft in your Kingdom.
Jinakpa, maybe my next gossip will come when I also join the ancestors because witchcraft is now sold in the market.
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