The Untold Tales of a Native Doctor. (PART ONE)

Movies gives insights,
lies and blurred stories so my thoughts;
Until I encountered tales from the parrot's beak itself.

It was a sunny day, fortunately the power was on.
Alone in the living room, I enjoyed the coolness of the fan blowing with anger.
I was watching an entertainment program when I suddenly heard my Dad scream,
"What! Báwo ló ṣe ṣẹlẹ̀? Oh my God!"
I rushed out from the living room to see what was happening at the corridor where he was meant to be reading.

"Daddy mi, kí ló ṣẹlẹ̀?" I asked.
He was quiet for some minutes.
I could read from his face,something terrible had happened.

"I just received a call, my friend, Bolaji has been rushed to Isehin for therapeutic treatment. I was told he had stroke." He said with sympathy.

I was shocked with confusion, so I asked, "Why Isehin? Why not some standard hospital here in Lagos?" My dad didn't say a word; he was romancing his forehead with his fingers....

"Dad, I would love to come with you." I requested, and he agreed.

We set out for Isehin, in Ọ̀yọ́ State.
It took six hours before we could locate our destination.
It was a bungalow built with modern bricks, though most of other buildings around it were built with mud.

Mr Bolaji was lying helplessly on a mat, his wife was there with him, wrapped with grief.

"You are welcome sir." She saluted my Dad.

"Why didn't you stay in Lagos for his treatment?" My dad asked immediately,

"We would have loved to, especially for easy access but a brother of mine who lives at Ile Ogbo in Osun State knows Bàbá well and guaranteed his treatment." She explained.

"So, has there been any improvement so far?" My dad asked again, concern etched on his face like a mask.

"Yes o, in fact the first day we got here, to assure us of his treatment, Bàbá gave him that agbo." Mr Bolaji's wife replied, pointing through the window, outside towards where a big clay pot sitting firmly on a three stones-made stove.

She continued, "When he drank it, he stood straight on his feet, we were so astonished of the hope he gave."

Bàbá came in through the conversation, he exchanged greetings with my dad then he explained Mr Bolaji's condition and assured of his quick recovery.

I tried to take a walk around the building.
I saw some children playing with their pants on, some women peeling cassava.

I saw the pot which Mrs Bolaji was pointing at, then I moved closer to see what's in it.

A little girl asked me from behind, "Do you want some, auntie? You can have it, Bàbá gives anyone who wants it."

I looked at the girl with surprise, 'Why would I want some? Am I a stroke patient?' I asked with thoughts.

I walked back inside still confused about the little girl's offer.
I told my dad about it and he was surprised too.

So, he asked Bàbá, "Bàbá, the agbo given to your patient, can it be consumed by anyone?"

Bàbá replied, "Why not? Agbo gbogbo ìṣe ni, it works for any kinds of ailment."

My dad and I were more surprised at his reply so my dad continued with his interrogations,
"How did you learn this therapy or did you treat other ailments aside from stroke?"

Bàbá smiled, "No, I treat only stroke, ó si dami lójú." He replied with confidence.

"In my youth age" Bàbá continued, "I was not a doctor, iran mi o ṣé isegun rí, idile ọdẹ ni mo si ti wá. I was a lorry driver and I also drive trucks, transporting timbers from Isehin to other parts in the country,especially Lagos but my father trained me to be a hunter; therefore, I was a hunter too. I would have loved taking over my father and forefathers but animals seemed waving out of the forests due to deforestation and maybe other things I am not aware of.

One day, I was driving back home from Lagos, though I am already within Ọ̀yọ́. Bushes left and right, there was no one expected to be out.
It was midnight, I was never afraid due to my background of being a hunter" he paused.

I giggled and said "Ògbójú ọdẹ"

Bàbá smiled at me and continued. "I was almost home, just at the road side I could view a creature standing from afar, I was able to distinguish and sure it was a female. I was surprised what a lady could be doing outside this late hour. My truck move closer, the full light revealed a creature. She was so fair and beautiful but what amused me was that,  She was furry.

I moved closer to her and asked, 'Hey, woman what are you doing at the road side this late?'
She told me she was waiting for me.
I asked again and she replied with the same words then I told her to hop in.

I was confused so I asked, "Why would you ask a furry person to hop in? She must have been a demon or fairy?"

Bàbá smiled, "I know she is not a natural human. You called me a name earlier." He requested,

"Ògbójú ọdẹ." I replied.

Now I can connect with several movies and books, especially that yoruba series by G.O Fagunwa, Ògbójú ọdẹ nínú igbó irumọ́lẹ̀  I was  wowed; I was eager to know what happened next.

       To be continued....

Written by Muhammad Ruqoyah.
Edited by Olufunlola.

Moyosoremuhammed1@gmail.com