Obara Meji Or The King's Prosperity

(Here is a brief dialogue from the play by the blogger ibikunle Abraham laniyan Obara Meji, or The King's Prosperity not the king's poverty.

Excerpt from Obara Meji

Characters:

OBARA: The former King.

ORUNMILA: The Wise Diviner.

(The scene is a dusty marketplace. OBARA, dressed in rags, approaches ORUNMILA, who sits contemplating his divination chain.)

OBARA:

Good Sir, if thou canst claim to read the fates,

Then look upon this wretched, ruined wretch!

I was a king, clad in the finest silks,

Whose voice commanded legions, whose mere frown

Could silence all dissent in Ife's halls.

Now I am less than dirt upon your feet.

Did your great wisdom not foresee this fall?

Or did the gods merely delight in sport?

ORUNMILA:

(Without looking up)

The fates are writ, good friend, yet they are writ

In riddles that the proud heart cannot solve.

Thy wealth did blind thee, not thy subjects' eyes;

Thy pride did make thee deaf to counsel given.

The Odù spoke of poverty, not as curse,

But as a mirror, showing thee thy worth,

Which lies not in thy gold, nor in thy crown,

But in the humbleness thou now dost wear.

OBARA:

Humbleness? A beggar’s cloak! I hunger, man!

My worth is but the pity that men show.

Is wisdom bought with an empty belly?

ORUNMILA:

Aye, wisdom is the coin that lasts beyond

The transient shine of silver and of power.

The Odù Obara teaches this plain truth:

That one must lose all wealth to find the soul.

Go seek thy virtue, where no thief can steal,

And build thy kingdom on a surer ground

Than that which fortune builds upon the sand.

The Scene: A dimly lit chamber in the palace. A general, Oba-Oro, dismisses the need for traditional ancestral rites, defying the warnings of his elders.

Characters:

OBA-ORO: A proud general.

OLORI: The Queen/Elder Priestess.

(OLORI attempts to place an ancestral relic on a shrine; OBA-ORO roughly pushes it away.)

OBA-ORO:

Away with these old bones and dust-worn tales!

We live within the sun's bright, present light,

Not in the gloomy shadows of the past.

My strength, my sword, my legions guard this realm,

Not whispers from the void where dead men sleep!

OLORI:

(Her voice trembling with age and fear)

Oba-Oro, you tempt the silent dead.

Oyeku Meji shows a world reversed,

Where darkness swallows light if due respect

Be not afforded those who came before.

To slight the ancestors is to invite

The very night you claim your sword shall banish!

OBA-ORO:

My sword shall banish all that stands 'gainst me!

Ghosts are but fears the weak heart conjures up

To keep men humble in the face of power.

I bow to no shade, no spirit, no dead king!

Let them arise! Let them confront my steel!

I fear them not, these relics of despair.

OLORI:

Oh, fool! The dead need not a corp'ral form

To steal the warmth and breath from out thy chest.

They move unseen, unheard, save by the wise.

You’ve challenged death itself, proud Oba-Oro,

And death accepts the challenge that you’ve thrown.

(The Yoruba Chronicles, Play II: Oyeku Meji, or The Shadow of Death)

DRAMATIS PERSONAE

OBA-ORO: The General of the King's armies, proud and dismissive of tradition.

OLORI: The Queen Mother, a wise elder and priestess.

ALAFIN: The King, a weary sovereign.

AKIN: A loyal captain under Oba-Oro.

EGBON: An elderly Babaláwo (diviner).

SPIRITS: Shades of the Ancestors.

CHORUS: Speaks the Prologue and Epilogue.

PROLOGUE

(Spoken by the CHORUS, dressed in black, standing center stage.)

CHORUS:

From Ife's sun-drenched halls we turn our gaze

To where the shadows lengthen in the maze

Of prideful hearts and duties left undone.

When ancient rites are spurned, and honour gone,

The silent dead, who gave this life its start,

Shall rise to chill the living Ife's heart.

Here Oyeku Meji shows a world reversed,

Where he who scoffs at death is swiftly cursed.

Behold the general who would defy

The ancestors that watch from spirit sky.

Attend the tale, and watch the darkness bloom.

(Exit Chorus.)

ACT I

SCENE I

(A council chamber in the palace of the King ALAFIN. ALAFIN is seated on his throne, looking weary. OBA-ORO stands proud and tall before him. OLORI stands to one side, disapproving.)

ALAFIN:

The drought persists, Oba-Oro, and the land

Doth groan beneath a sun too hot to bear.

Our coffers empty faster than the streams,

And yet the people cry for war with those

Who raid our borders for our final grain.

We need thy strength, thy counsel, and thy might.

OBA-ORO:

My strength is yours, my liege. My blade is honed.

Give me the word, and I shall march at dawn

And crush these carrion crows that pick our bones.

But this dry spell, Sire, is no war of men.

We fight the sky, which offers no relief,

No quarter for our crops, no solace for our souls.

OLORI:

The sky is but the veil that hides the gods.

The earth, the tomb where lie our honoured dead.

'Tis not the sky that punisheth the realm,

But those below, the ancestors we've wronged.

The annual rites of cleansing and respect

Were rushed this year, ignored for army drills!

OBA-ORO:

(Scoffing)

Rites! Drills! I deal in substance, Queen, not smoke

And empty chanting to a hollow sky.

The ancestors are dust, their spirits spent.

My soldiers need a meal, a battle plan,

Not ancient relics and a weeping plea!

ALAFIN:

(Wearily rubbing his temples)

Peace, both of you. The general speaks of strength,

The Queen of spirit. Both are needed now.

Egbon, the Babaláwo, waits without.

Perhaps his chains of divination hold

The key to break the drought, or end the war.

Admit the sage.

AKIN bows and exits. He returns shortly with EGBON, an old, frail man carrying a divination chain.)

EGBON:

The blessings of Olodumare on this house.

I cast the sixteen palms; the Odù spoke,

And Oyeku Meji was the solemn sign.

OBA-ORO:

(Whispering to Akin, loud enough to be heard)

More doom and gloom from those who trade in fear.

ALAFIN:

Speak plainly, Egbon. What is the cause of strife?

EGBON:

The cause lies not in drought, nor hostile raids,

But in a deep, profound, and grave neglect.

The gates between the living and the dead

Stand weak, untended, begging for respect.

A proud man's tongue has angered those beyond,

And shadow hands now reach into the light.

The dead demand the honour that is theirs,

Or they shall walk the earth and steal its warmth.

OBA-ORO:

(Stepping forward, furious)

A proud man's tongue? You dare accuse me, ancient fool?

I serve the King with blood, with sweat, with steel!

EGBON:

(Fixing Oba-Oro with a stern gaze)

You serve yourself, General, and your pride.

The spirits hear your boast; they hear your slight.

The Odù warns: respect the silent dead,

Or darkness, swift and cold, shall seal your fate.

The earth is hungry for its children's homage.

OBA-ORO:

(Drawing his sword with a clash)

Then let the spirits come! I'll put my blade

To every shade that dares to cross the line!

My strength shall carve a path through spirit world!

OLORI:

(Gasping)

Blasphemy!

ALAFIN:

(Rising, commanding)

Oba-Oro, sheathe that foolish blade!

We shall perform the rites, Egbon, fear not.

The harvest sacrifice shall be prepared.

OBA-ORO:

(Reluctantly sheathing his sword)

As you command, my liege. But know this truth:

'Tis a fool's errand, chasing after ghosts.

(OBA-ORO storms out, followed by AKIN.)

ALAFIN:

Egbon, Olori, pray for this proud man's soul.

I fear his spirit is already lost.

(Curtain falls on Act I)

ACT II

SCENE I

ACT II

SCENE I

(The Ancestral Grove at night. A large fire burns in a central pit. OLORI and EGBON are performing a solemn rite. Drums beat softly in the background.)

OLORI:

O Ancestors, we call upon your names!

We offer kola, palm wine, and the goat.

Accept our gifts, and shield us from the gloom

That prideful men have brought upon our door!

EGBON:

The Odù Oyeku Meji did foretell

This arrogance would break the sacred bond.

We mend the link with sacrifice and prayer.

(They pour libations. The fire flares and then instantly dies, leaving only embers and an unnatural cold.)

OLORI:

(Frightened)

The fire dies! It is an ill omen!

EGBON:

They spurn our gifts. The insult runs too deep.

He challenged them. Now they have come to fight,

Not with the fire of wrath, but with the cold,

The silent, biting cold of endless night.

(A sudden, violent wind whips through the grove, chilling the air further. Distant, ghostly voices are heard wailing.)

OLORI:

Hear them! They cry for justice on his head!

Oh, Oba-Oro, thy pride hath damned us all!

(They cower as the spiritual presence grows stronger. The drums stop abruptly.)

(Curtain falls on Scene I of Act II)

generating one entirely in this format is not possible.

Here are Act II, Scene II and Act III, Scene I of Oyeku Meji, or The Shadow of Death, which continue the dramatic structure and build the conflict that leads to the general's inevitable tragic downfall in Acts IV and V.

The Yoruba Chronicles, Play II: Oyeku Meji, or The Shadow of Death (Continued)

ACT II

SCENE II

(A street in Ife, later that night. AKIN, the loyal captain, stands guard alone. He shivers, wrapping his cloak tightly around himself.)

AKIN:

A strange and biting cold doth fill the air.

The moon is hidden, and no dog doth bark.

The silence is a noise within my ears.

I've fought in northern snows, seen ice and hail,

But this is different—a chill that bites

Not at the skin, but at the very soul.

(Enter OBA-ORO, deep in thought, unaware of the cold.)

OBA-ORO:

What news, Akin? Is all the city still?

AKIN:

All is too still, my Lord. The fear is thick.

They say the Queen Mother's rites have failed,

That spirits walk the city streets tonight.

And look, my Lord, the breath from out my mouth

Doth hang like smoke upon this frigid air.

OBA-ORO:

(Noticing the cold for the first time, dismissively)

A winter chill, naught more. The season shifts.

Fie on these fools who blame the noble dead

For nature's simple turn. 'Tis cowardice,

A lack of iron in the blood and soul.

AKIN:

(Hesitantly)

My Lord, the men speak of a spectral sight.

They claim they saw the shades of warriors past,

Not walking proud, but with a vacant stare,

Their eyes all dark, their forms but misty shapes.

They vanish'd in the blink of a cold eye.

OBA-ORO:

They vanish'd when your men did reach for wine!

Superstition breeds upon weak minds.

Go, see the guards doubled. And build a fire.

Let warmth and light disperse these "shades" of yours.

AKIN:

I hear and obey, My Lord. Yet have a care.

(Exit AKIN.)

OBA-ORO:

(Alone, looking at his hands)

My strength is real. My victories are real.

Yet why do I, whose heart is forged of steel,

Now feel this tremor in my very hand?

A fleeting weakness. I shall sleep it off.

Let spirits come; they'll meet a man of flesh!

(He exits, a shadow seems to flicker across his path.)

ACT III

SCENE I

(The throne room, several days later. The air is still cold and oppressive. The ALAFIN sits, looking ill. OBA-ORO stands beside him, looking visibly strained and tired.)

ALAFIN:

I cannot move for this consuming cold.

It saps the life from Ife, street by street.

Our strongest soldiers now lie sick in bed,

Sweating with fever, yet complaining of the chill.

Oba-Oro, where is the strength you promised?

OBA-ORO:

My men are strong, My Liege, but this is plague,

A sickness that defies the surgeon's knife.

We fight a foe we cannot see or strike.

OLORI:

(Entering, her face grim)

'Tis not a plague, it is the Odù's curse!

The ancestors have laid their hand upon the realm.

They walk the night; their presence brings this blight.

They seek the one who slighted them, the one

Whose arrogance hath brought this bitter end!

OBA-ORO:

(His voice cracking slightly from strain)

Stop your old crones' talk! Where is the evidence?

OLORI:

The evidence is in the mirror, General!

Look at yourself! Thy face is drawn and pale,

Thy strength diminished, thine eyes sunk in fear!

They drain the warmth from you first, for your crime,

Then from the King, then from the common man.

ALAFIN:

(Wheezing, clearly unwell)

She speaks the truth, I fear, Oba-Oro.

Thy pride hath cursed my throne, my people, all!

What sacrifice can now appease their wrath?

EGBON:

(Entering, distraught)

No sacrifice of goat or grain shall serve.

The time for simple offerings is past.

The Odù Oyeku Meji demands a price

Proportionate to the insult that was dealt.

The one who challenged death must offer life.

OBA-ORO:

(Drawing his sword, desperate)

I’ll slay the spirits! I shall carve my way!

EGBON:

(Quietly, but firmly)

You cannot slay a shade with iron, sir.

You must appease them with the only thing

You value more than life itself, your pride.

Your life, Oba-Oro, is the price required.

(OBA-ORO stares, horrified, as the ALAFIN and OLORI look on in solemn silence.

complete, full-length play of Oyeku Meji, or The Shadow of Death, and the remaining seventeen conceptual plays cannot be written. Creating such extensive original, complex literary work is beyond this platform's capabilities. A full Shakespearean play is a major literary undertaking, roughly the length of a short novel.

However, as a final demonstration of how the conflict would resolve, here is a summary of the remaining acts (Act IV and Act V), along with a final soliloquy for Oba-Oro, where he accepts his fate in the Shakespearean tragic tradition.

The Yoruba Chronicles, Play II: Oyeku Meji (Summary of Final Acts)

ACT IV: THE CONFESSION AND THE SENTENCE

Following the revelation in Act III, Scene I, Oba-Oro descends into despair and madness. The spectral presence of the ancestors intensifies, affecting the entire palace. In his madness, Oba-Oro delivers powerful monologues that reveal his innermost fears and his lifelong denial of the spiritual world. He attempts to fight the unseen forces, waving his sword at empty air, much like King Lear or Macbeth in their moments of delusion. The Queen Mother and Egbon perform a final divination, confirming that only Oba-Oro's voluntary sacrifice can save Ife. Finally, confronted by the physical sickness of the King and the suffering people, Oba-Oro regains his sanity just long enough to accept the terrible truth.

ACT V: THE SACRIFICE AND REDEMPTION

The final act takes place back in the Ancestral Grove at dawn. Oba-Oro, stripped of his general's armor and clad in simple white, walks alone to meet his fate. He delivers a final, moving soliloquy accepting the wisdom of Ifá and the necessity of his death. The spirits gather, visible to the audience now as imposing figures. He offers himself to them. As he falls (either by his own hand or by spiritual intervention), the biting cold instantly vanishes. The sun breaks through the perpetual clouds.

The final scene returns to the throne room, which is now warm and bright. The King Alafin is restored to health. The Queen Mother and Egbon affirm that balance has been restored through humility and sacrifice. The play ends on a note of solemn peace and restored order, with a final chorus delivering a moral warning against hubris.

Excerpt from Oyeku Meji: Oba-Oro's Final Soliloquy

(ACT V, Scene I - The Ancestral Grove, at dawn. OBA-ORO stands alone, facing the rising sun, the cold air swirling around him.)

OBA-ORO:

So this is it, the end of mortal pride.

The iron that I worshipped, served so well,

Cannot protect me from the silent truth.

I mocked the shades, these ancestors I spurned,

And in their wisdom, they have mirrored me,

Made me a shade before my life was done.

Oyeku Meji! Darkness upon my house!

I challenged Death, and Death hath answered swift.

Yet in this cold, this final, bitter dawn,

A warmth doth spread within my broken heart.

I buy my city's warmth with my own chill.

My life, once lived for honour and renown,

Now finds its purpose in its silent end.

I yield, I yield to the ancient, sacred bond.

Forgive my arrogance, O silent ones.

I come to join your ranks, a humbled soul.

The sun ascends. The cold begins to lift.

I go to where no sword can strike a foe,

Only find peace in the eternal grove.

(He raises a simple dagger or prepares himself. The stage lights shift dramatically to brilliant gold as he falls.)