AYÉLÉ: THE VESTAL VIRGIN. A HISTORICAL SAGA

Woeli Dekutsey

Description

Did European explorers find it easy in Africa? Ayélé: The Vestal Virgin. A Historical Saga presents a view which is markedly different from the usual narrative that Eurocentric writers portray in extant mainstream literature. Ayélé, the female protagonist and youth leader is pitched against Edouardo, an European sea captain, whose consuming interest is to pillage the royal gold mine and later retire to Europe in opulence. The resulting skirmishes between these two central characters provide an opportunity for a clash between Christianity and Traditional African Religion, culminating in Pedro, an European Christian priest converting to become a priest in an African shrine! An endearing feature of this novel is the distinct African voice that pervades the whole narrative. The author’s subtle sarcasm of European and African cultural institutions will stay with the reader for a long time. This novel makes a contribution to the new voices in emerging African literature.

Sujets

• Ghana

Informations

• Publié par: Woeli Dekutsey
• Date de parution: 01 janvier 2023
• Nombre de lectures: 11
• EAN13: 9789988920203
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 3 Mo

Extrait

Woeli Dekutsey

Ayélé

THE VESTAL VIRGIN

A HISTORICAL SAGA

Woeli Dekutsey

WOELI PUBLISHING SERVICES ACCRA 2022

This is a work of pure îction, the result of a fertile imagination. The events described in this novel happened îve hundred odd years ago when you and I were not born; they happened at a time when European explorers began coming to the Guinea Coast of Africa. Therefore, if anyone claims to see himself in this narrative, that one is a pathological liar and the truth is not in him!

Published by Woeli Publishing Services P. O. Box NT 601 Accra New Town Ghana Email: [e-mail] Tel.: [phone]

© Woeli Dekutsey, 2022 Copyright Law protects this work. The author asserts the right to be recognized and associated with this literary creation. Therefore, any unauthorized copying without the written permission of the Publisher is an infringement of the author’s copyright.

ISBN 978-9988-9202-0-3

Cover Illustration by Cudjoe Addo-Nyarko Typeset at Woeli Publishing Services, Accra

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 1.PROLOGUE:As It Was in the Beginning 1  2. Ayélé10  3. Edouardo 19  4. Pedro 46  5. Ayélé 60  6. Faehu 76  7. Mishiso 97  8. Jafaru 106  9. Hushie 118 10. Edouardo 138 11. Hushie 146 12. Ayélé 154 13. EPILOGUE:World Without an End 172 Glossary190

To HANS who, without knowing it, provided the initial impetus; DANIELLE who shares the same passion with me about reading;

OKWUNWA for her loving support; LADÉ for believing in me and to FADIE who deserves to be remembered.

TOLI 1 PROLOGUE As It Was in the Beginning

here was a smell of evil in the air. It hung heavily on the T late afternoon breeze like a miasma, full of foreboding and expectancy. Up in the air, a group of vultures were languidly hovering in the mid-heavens, keeping out a sharp eye for any carrion on land. Below them, the waters of the Gulf of Guinea quietly lapped the sides of the caravel, that had dropped anchor some moments earlier. Leaning slightly forward on the deck, Captain Edouardo de Lima lifted his telescope to his eyes uncertainly and scanned the coastline. The white sands looked clean and shimmered uneasily in the gathering evening twilight. The coconut trees that hugged the shoreline stood huddled together as if in conspiracy. The air was heavy with dark foreboding. Patiently, Portuguese Captain Edouardo, a seasoned sailor, adjusted his telescope and slowly swept the coastline once more. He could swear he had seen some furtive movements behind the coconut trees. He thought he spotted a hint of curious human eyes, peering at him from behind the trees. Perplexed, Captain Edouardo took his eyes o the telescope for a moment and wiped them with the back of his palm. Then, again, he gingerly lifted the telescope to his eyes. This time he sawthem!— From the distance, the two nubile îgures, chocolate in complexion, appeared immersed in some intimate conversation in the approaching twilight. One carried a înely wrought, 1

silvery artifact (what he later came to know the natives called anAkofena, a symbol of authority) in her dainty hand, while the other seemed to be emphasizing a point as they conversed. Their demeanor showed their general curiosity. Captain Edouardo feverishly îddled with the knobs on his telescope and magniîed the îgures to look larger in his lens. For long moments he held his breath as he was transîxed by the music in their glide, especially the one carrying the symbol of authority. She seemed to oat on air; the soles of her feet never seemed to touch the earth. TheAkofenagave her a regal mien and an air of importance that intrigued Edouardo immensely. Especially the intricate silvery artwork. He wondered what it would be worth in Europe, where he came from. Unaware of the curiosity and interest that her symbol of oïce was inspiring in the discrete observer, theAkofena bearer traipsed on, appearing to oat on the cloud like a fairy. The magic in her gait was simply spellbinding. Edouardo’s eyes swept down her sloping, bare shoulders and tore o the gray baft cloth that was tucked underneath her armpit. He could clearly see her voluptuous curves rumpling beneath her coarse cloth, making his eyes pop out in disbelief. Surely, God the Great Sculptor, took real time in moulding this one, he murmured under his breath. The women in his home-town of Oporto were slim and shapeless, like scarecrows, uttering in the wind. But this one slogging on before his eyes simply looked glorious! A testimony that God, who created all good things on the earth, was still in the beauty business. He swallowed hard in two quick gulps as his eyes hungrily tore her cloth o her breasts. He felt uneasy in his crotch, as his sail lifted up . . . What

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with many days at sea, cooped up in the ship . . . he vainly tried to control the turbulence in his groin. Unconsciously, with his cupped and calloused îngers, he reached down in an attempt to quell the swirling storm . . . When he got back to looking again, the maidens had vanished like an apparition. He rubbed his eyes several times in utter disbelief. He thought he had seen two women from afar. Were they real? Or was his imagination playing a trick on him? His eyes frantically scoured the coconut trees, to catch one more glimpse of the two alluring and nubile dainties. But they were gone . . . He returned to his uneasy cabin, carrying the worry of the scene that had ittingly caught his eyes moments ago. Perhaps, he had been hallucinating. Weeks at sea might have aected his sense of perception. He remembered that, on this trip, while on the high seas, whenever he woke up at dawn and paced around the deck, he clearly heard the sea softly calling out his name and beckoning him to step over. Several times he had fought the urge to obey, but he recollected that many seamen had stepped over the deck to their doom this way, and he quickly pulled back. Sometimes the sea appeared like dry ground tempting you to come for a walk. But it was a trap. Other times, especially on moonlit nights, large îshes popped up to the surface, standing straight like tall buildings in the ocean, creating the impression that you were standing in the middle of a city. But everyone knew this was a mirage; stepping out, as if for a walk, would lead to your perdition. The sea was full of many weird surprises and temptations, especially for the unwary.  That night he could not sleep. His heart missed a beat each time the mystery maiden’s image ashed through his 3

memory. In his forty years on earth as a human being, no image of a damsel had aected him so much as this slip of a woman . . . He imagined taking her soft hands in his, trying to be friendly . . . and înding her îngers pretty and slim and soft to touch . . . her nails grazing the tip of his îngers like a feather, sending ecstatic thrills down his spine . . . he looks deep into her smiling eyes and feels he is swooning, like a drunk, sinking into the soft arms of wine . . . she cooes into his face, and the dimples in her cheek wink at him, sending sparks coursing down his marrow — into the very recesses of his heart. He wants to gather this moment to his bosom and hold it there to eternity . . . If this was death, he was prepared to die a thousand times to stretch this moment longer . . . Sleep eventually spread its dark night cloth over him. He was dead to the sting of myriad of mosquitoes swarming and singing monotonously around him. These parts of the Gulf of Guinea swarmed with deadly mosquitoes, and had spelled the knell of many of his compatriots. When he woke next morning, he felt only half alive. He stumbled through his command as if he was half-dead. His sailors wondered what was eating up their captain. Every so often he would lift the telescope and feverishly scan the surrounding coastland as if possessed. Before they embarked on this voyage to the Gulf of Guinea, there had been reports that the African coast could do funny things to the unwary. What perplexed the sailors was the way their Captain Edouardo, who normally was an even-tempered man, suddenly that morning, had grown impatient with everybody. Nothing seemed to please him. He barked his orders as if he was shouting to deaf-mutes. He skipped his breakfast, and 4

only toyed with his lunch. From time to time, he would get up and stride purposefully astern and, lifting up his telescope, scour the coastline for long moments as if expecting someone. But this was most unlikely, for whom could he have known out there on this îrst trip to the Guinea coast? And when they, fellow-sailors, scanned the shoreline, they saw only lonely sentinels of coconut trees swaying lazily in the breeze. After they suered their captain’s brusque rebus for a while, the sailors înally decided to leave him alone.

It was in the late afternoon of the second day that Captain Edouardo sawthemAt îrst they appeared like specks again! on the horizon, but as they approached, gliding on the sands, chatting happily, his heart started thumping like the devil’s drum. He looked across the vast sea that separated him from the silhouettes, and he thought he saw the distant coconut trees mocking him, as if to say, ever so near but ever so far. He feverishly twiddled and adjusted the telescope, and carefully studied the îrst girl who seemed to capture his fancy so much. She looked too mature to be classiîed as a girl. Tall, dark brown and buxom, and so lithe in movement, this young woman reminded him of the lynx. Menacing. Careful animal glide. There was song in the way she walked, her feet barely touching the ground. Though obviously gorgeous to behold, she evinced a latent viciousness that belied her attractive exterior. It was as though this time the two had dressed to kill. Were they attending a ceremony of some sort? Edouardo wondered. The îrst girl wore tufts of yellow straw on her two bare shoulders. On her head was a crude-looking golden 5