The blogger ibikunle Abraham laniyan churns out below another single, one-act play in the Shakespearean tradition, adapting an Ifa narrative. It uses iambic pentameter, archaic language, soliloquies, and the structural elements requested.
OYEKU: The Silence of the Drum
A One-Act Play in Shakespearean Style
Dramatis Personae
OBA ADEWALE: The King, a man of power, yet troubled by fate.
IYALAWO: A revered Ifa Priestess, the voice of the divine.
OLORI FUNKE: The Queen, anxious for the future of her child.
BABAJIDE: The King's trusted, but skeptical, advisor.
CHORUS: A group of elders who offer exposition and commentary.
Setting
The royal courtyard of a Yoruba kingdom, circa a mythical past. Night.
Act I
Scene I
(The CHORUS enters.)
CHORUS
From Ife’s fount, where destiny is writ,
We bring a tale of kingly stubbornness,
And how the silent drum did prove its wit,
When mortal pride did challenge blessedness.
A king there was, Adewale by his name,
Whose lust for power obscured the sun's bright flame.
To all Ifa’s counsel, he would scoff,
Till death’s dark shadow tore his fortunes off.
Now mark the scene, where tragedy takes root,
And hear the warnings of a silent brute.
(The CHORUS exits. The Royal Courtyard of OBA ADEWALE. Torches light the night. OBA ADEWALE is seated on his throne, looking troubled. BABAJIDE stands near him.)
OBA ADEWALE
Good Babajide, doth the moon mock my reign?
For whilst my coffers overflow with wealth,
And whilst my armies conquer hill and plain,
A barren future undermines my health.
No son have I to bear my royal name,
No prince to shield from sorrow or from shame.
The people whisper, ghosts upon the wind,
That in my lineage no heir shall e'er be pinned.
BABAJIDE
My liege, a thousand moons have seen you reign,
And yet this grief doth fester in your breast.
Have we not sought the counsel, sought in vain,
Of wise men, seers, who put our fears to test?
The Iyalawo, she whose cowries speak,
Hath she not promised what thy spirit seeks?
OBA ADEWALE
She hath, my friend, but with conditions dire.
A sacrifice, she claims, of silence deep,
To quench the gods' insatiable fire,
A heavy secret which my soul must keep.
No drum must sound, no merry song be sung,
When the child enters, be he old or young.
A kingdom quiet, muted in its joy.
Such folly! Such a trick, to thus annoy!
BABAJIDE
My lord, the wisdom of the Odu flows
From sources deep, beyond our shallow ken.
The silent path may hide the blooming rose.
Trust in the guidance of the ancient men.
OBA ADEWALE
Trust? I am King! My will doth shape the land!
The Orishas themselves must understand!
My heir shall enter with a joyful sound,
With drums of war and peace, across the ground!
(Enter OLORI FUNKE, visibly pregnant and distressed.)
OLORI FUNKE
My husband, pray, heed not the drums of pride!
I went myself to see the Priestess this morn.
Within her chamber, where the truths abide,
She cast the seeds, and spoke of one unborn.
"Oyeku spoke," she said with fearful eye,
"Silence is life, noise is the bitter cry.
Should sound be made, the child will quickly fade;
A heavy price upon the King is laid."
OBA ADEWALE
(To himself, an aside)
These women, full of fears and phantom woes!
They see a ghost in every passing breeze.
My will is iron, firm as the Iroko grows,
I shall not bend to fanciful decrees!
(To Funke)
Be calm, my Queen. Thy fate is in mine hand.
I rule the gods within this mortal land.
We shall have joy, as befits one so great.
Begone, my fears! I am the master of my fate!
(Exit OBA ADEWALE in a rage. FUNKE weeps, comforted by BABAJIDE.)
BABAJIDE
(To Funke)
The king's great pride will be his fatal flaw.
He sees no power above his own domain.
He breaks the sacred, breaks the ancient law.
Now we must wait for sorrow and for pain.
(BABAJIDE and FUNKE exit in separate directions.)
Scene II
(A month later. The same courtyard. IYALAWO stands alone, performing a small ritual with an iroke (divination tapper) and opon (divination tray).)
IYALAWO
(Soliloquy, tapping the tray in rhythm)
Oyeku speaks in silence, void, and night.
The second sign, where darkness doth reside.
It warns the living of the fading light,
And bids us walk with caution, not with pride.
The King hath scorned the wisdom of the leaves,
He thinks his sceptre greater than the sky.
Ogun, defend us when the thunder cleaves
The air, and makes the royal infant die.
I have done my part, the message I have borne.
The rest is left to destiny and scorn.
(Enter BABAJIDE)
BABAJIDE
Good Iyalawo, the Queen doth near her time.
The King prepares a celebration grand.
He hath commanded every single chime,
And all the drummers in the farthest land.
IYALAWO
(Stopping her ritual)
Then sound the dirge, my friend, sound deep and low.
For every drum that beats, a heart shall cease.
The King commands, and seeds of death shall grow.
His pride hath murdered his own hope of peace.
I wash my hands. The die is cast in stone.
The silent path was offered, now unknown.
(They both exit. Darkness falls.
Scene III
(Later that night. Cries of childbirth are heard offstage. OBA ADEWALE bursts into the courtyard, joy on his face.)
OBA ADEWALE
A son! A son! The gods have favoured me!
The lying priestess and her foolish rules!
Go, Babajide, let the drums be free!
Call forth the singers, let them use their tools!
My heir is born! Let every village know!
My reign is set, my royal line shall grow!
(Drums begin to beat, first softly, then a thunderous rhythm. Horns sound.)
BABAJIDE
(Entering, hesitant)
My liege, the drums... perhaps a softer sound?
Just for a moment, heed the counsel wise?
OBA ADEWALE
(Furious)
No! Sound the grandest rhythm on the ground!
Let every star be witness from the skies!
I am the King! My word is more than fate!
(A piercing wail is heard from offstage, louder than the drums. The drums stop abruptly.)
(Enter OLORI FUNKE, pale and weak, cradling a small, still bundle. Her face is a mask of grief.)
OBA ADEWALE
My Queen? What news? Why is your face so grim?
And why this silence, save the beating heart?
OLORI FUNKE
(Her voice is a broken whisper)
The drums, my lord. The music and the hymn.
They sounded loud... and tore my world apart.
The child... the boy... he lived but for a breath.
The moment that your drums began to sound...
He left this world, embraced by sudden death.
No future king on this accursed ground.
(OBA ADEWALE stares, the realization dawning upon him. He drops to his knees.)
OBA ADEWALE
My pride... my pride hath done this grievous wrong.
I challenged fate, and fate hath struck me dead.
For a moment's noise, for a single song,
My future's hope lies silent in its bed.
Oyeku speaks the truth, in darkest night.
My reign is cursed, extinguished is my light.
(He bows his head in despair as the stage darkens.)
(The CHORUS enters.)
CHORUS
So ends the tale of pride's most bitter fall,
Where royal will did challenge heaven's might.
The silent drum was Ifa's warning call,
But noise prevailed, and banished all the light.
Let all who hear this sorrowful tale reflect,
That even kings must offer due respect
To powers greater than their mortal hand.
The silent wisdom rules the sea and land.
(The CHORUS exits.)
(FINIS)
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