The Trail of the Panther: A Historic Fiction

By Roosevelt Wright Jr.

In Dahomey, West Africa—home of the Panther People—powerful warriors battle each other for slaves to offer the gods in sacrifice or sell to slave traders. In the aftermath of a brutal tribal war, little Ehizokie is orphaned. After a mother panther raises her along with her cubs, fate decides Ehizokie’s future as she transforms into an Ahosi warrior—a group of special guards that are all women and all wives of the king.

More than anything else, Ehizokie wants to please the king of her African nation. As she matures and is eventually brought to America on a slave ship, Ehizokie soon reveals to everyone around her, including her slave friend, Izogie, that she is a terror to anyone who threatens her life, the king, or those under her protection. After she finally lands at a Mississippi plantation and begins a new chapter, Ehizokie births five generations of descendants, one of whom is Cora Mae Jones. As Cora rises from the depths of poverty in Panther Burn, Mississippi, she creates a future no one could have ever imagined.

The Trail of the Panther is the story of an African Ahosi warrior as her life’s journey leads her to America and to birth descendants who blaze a trail to the citadels of power around the world.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Nov 21, 2018
• ISBN: 9781532060700

Roosevelt Wright Jr.

Roosevelt Wright, Jr. graduated from the University of Louisiana and has spent more than four decades as a journalist. He is the author of thirty-seven stage plays and five books that include the historical novel, Children of the Panther Burn. Roosevelt and his wife, Joslyn, are the publishers of the Monroe Free Press, a weekly newspaper in print since 1969.

Book preview

Prologue

ON THE WALL OF HER PENTHOUSE OFFICE IS A PAINTING OF A THINLY clad woman who was the epitome of power and grace. She calls the painting, The Panther Woman because she was one of thousands of women warriors in her native land.

Hanging from her perch, The Panther Woman hails as queen of an empire that stretches across the nation. She is the soul and spirit of each generation. They stare at her and wonder about her mystique, strength and power. Her spirit stirs the soul of all who look into her eyes.

1

The Raid

THE DRUMS SENT THE MESSAGE, "OYO ATTACKING," SO THE MEN OF the village were on high alert. The Oyo¹ were vicious warriors who attacked villages with stealth and merciless slaughter. The men listened and watched intently; their lives and those of their families depended on their vigilance. The Oyo were fierce and savage enemies who fought to the death and committed suicide if they failed. The village was on alert because the drums sent the message that they were in the area although no one in the village had seen them.

iEfosa stood guard with the other men as the women and children gathered firewood, berries, and herbs for the village. Usually, the women would do this alone, but the threat of the Oyo placed the entire village in a defensive mode, prepared to fight against an enemy known for decimating the defenseless. He stole a glance over his shoulder and saw his wife, stooped, picking up sticks for her bundle. Strapped to her back, wrapped tightly, was their daughter Ehizokie, who giggled and cooed, oblivious to the impending danger around her.

Like other men of the village, iEfosa knew that the women and children depended on the warriors to keep them safe. They accepted their roles, and he assumed his with pride. In his family, he was revered and respected. His wife gladly joined the other women to perform the ordinary chores that were too menial for warriors. They gathered the firewood, prepared food, and other mundane tasks. She washed the clothes, planted and harvested the crops, attended the children, and prepared the meal. He was a provider and protector. He hunted food and brought home meat for the fires. In times of danger, it was his responsibility to protect his family and to watch over them while they slept. It was the Fon way. It was his way, too.

Today, the men quickly assumed their places, forming a circle around the women and children as they walked through the woods. Each man held his spear in hand and looked intently for signs of the invading Oyo warriors. They watched the trees for signs of movement and listened for the flutter of birds in the thickets. The crackle of a broken branch or the crunch of a leaf underfoot were tell-tale signs, so their ears were sharp and tuned as they filtered each sound for revelations of a foreign presence. iEfosa was extra careful today because the drums had sent a warning and he knew the Oyo were not only trained warriors, but they were also known for their ability to hide their presence from even the animals of the forest until they suddenly appeared out of nowhere. His wife and son laughed and talked with the other women as her bundle of sticks grew larger, but iEfosa remained vigilant. He gripped his spear tightly, and his slightly frowned face revealed his concern. He felt his heart beating like the drums; and he prepared to fight to the death if attacked.

Despite the peacefulness of the forest, the singing of the birds and rustling of the wind among the leaves of the trees, iEfosa knew there would be trouble. The drums that ring out messages from village to village had thumped out the news in a mystic code, "Oyo Attacking." It was an ample warning from a pattern of heavy and hard strokes of the drums that thumped the message in an almost indecipherable code. To a person not familiar with their meaning they seemed like festival rhythms, but they were so much more. This system had served the villagers faithfully over the years, saving countless lives as it warned of enemies, the spread of disease and the rise of the river.

The drums were never wrong.

iEfosa broke his gaze at his wife and snapped back when he heard a crackling in the woods. The other men heard it too and raised their spears across their chests. He could not look back to check on his wife; his training would not allow a single break in his concentration. Without receiving a single verbal command, the women grabbed their children and held them close, their hearts raced, sweat formed on their faces, and anxiousness etched a trail across their foreheads.

Again, they heard the morbid announcement of the drums, "Oyo Attacking."

Before they could move, a flock of birds rushed into the air at one time, blocking the sky with their flapping wings. The trees rustled, and there was a dry stillness that only comes before a fatal moment arrives.

There was a great scream from within the earth, the grass around the feet of the village men shook suspiciously for a second and then raised like earthen trap doors and showers of arrows, darts and spears shot forth from the ground hitting their surprised targets with deadly precision.

Scores of Oyo warriors suddenly raised up from beneath the earth and stabbed the surprised Fon men in their backs, legs and shoulders.

Kill them! Shouted an Oyo warrior, Kill them all. Leave no one! shouted a young warrior as he raised from his earthen hideaway. With his spear, he stabbed two men in the back by ramming it through both of them at the same time and then turned in front of them and pulled the bloody pole out in time to watch both of them crumble to the ground. Behind him, a warrior charged, but he swung his spear like a windmill close to the ground and knocked him off his feet. Before his enemy could rise, he rammed his spear through the attacker’s neck, spurting blood into the air and pinning him to the red stained grass.

iEfosa looked at his wife and saw her kneeling in the grass next to a tree holding his son tightly, praying for deliverance. Her lips recited an inaudible prayer that only her heart could hear as the screams of the women and children filled the air. Suddenly showers of arrows rained from the trees with the sound of rushing wind; they came from overhead instead of beneath the grass. There were so many that they blocked the sunshine. The landed with sizzles and thumps that covered the ground with so many arrows that they appeared like hundreds of small trees protruding out of the ground. There were hundreds of Oyo warriors in the trees raining down arrows and spears in a sea of arrowheads and lances that found their marks randomly killing women, children and old men as they ran for cover, but there was no place to hide.

"iEfosa! Help us!" shouted the woman in a voice of panic, fear, and frustration.

Stay still! Hold the children, he yelled as he turned to fight his way to her. "I’m coming!

Out of nowhere, more Oyo warriors stepped from behind the trees; more than he could count; hundreds, even thousands yelling, screaming and swinging man-sized blades with such force that heads separated from bodies, and blood spurted like fountains of red death.

iEfosa fought off attackers gallantly, but the attackers were overwhelming. In a matter of seconds, the Fon villagers were dropping like flies as arrows pierced hearts, eyes, and pregnant bellies. The Fon warriors raced to the panicked mass of crying women and dying warriors and began to form a defensive circle around them, but before they could fortify their positions, another horror unleashed. The skies blackened as the arrows rained upon their victims like hailstones while shooters on the ground and treetops sent repeated volleys that left little room for escape. Babies screamed as small children, older youth and mothers strained vainly to secure them from the arrows that punctured lungs, eye sockets and hearts.

The Oyo lived up to their reputation; they swept through the villagers as if they were stands of wheat waiting for the scythe. The hard ground where scores of bodies fell, was soaked with blood which squished through the feet of the Oyo as they stood flat-footed stabbing the old women and securing young childbearing aged girls for the wooden shackles of slave traders.

iEfosa kept his eye on his wife as he ran toward her, dodging the spear of one Oyo warrior by leaning to the left, and then stooping quickly just as the blade of another swept over his head. He bowed his head and crashed into his attacker at full speed boring him in the stomach with his head and then spinning him around so that his attacker would absorb the full force of a metal blade slicing open a blood-drenched chest.

The drums continued their warning, even as three Oyo Warriors wrestled iEfosa to his knees, only to watch him break free and begin a mad dash through the carnage slashing his blade both left and right. His only thought was to reach his wife and children and shield them. It was his duty. She depended on him to protect her. He leaped over bodies and sidestepped arrows as he ran toward his family. Even as he swung his spear and broke it over an attacker’s head, he saw his son clinging to his mother for protection as she squeezed him tightly huddled in a ball. iEfosa was unaware of the cries of pain or fellow villagers. Neither did he see the wave of attackers that approached him; all he could think about was his vulnerable wife and family who trusted him to protect them from all enemies, predators, and invaders.

He reached out to her as he raised a spearless hand and tried to yell reassurances that he would protect them when an Oyo spear smashed through his belly and burst through his back. He could not speak, only grunt as he fell forward facing the ground as it rose to meet him. The last sight he saw was his wife reaching for his son who had been speared like a fish in the stream, a sight unbearable for any mother to watch.

She thought of little Ehizokie, strapped to her back. Quickly, she unfastened the cloth strips that held the child in place and swung her around to her chest and cradled her close. There were so many Oyo warriors that the thought of escape never came to her mind; this would be a get captured or die day. This would be a day when all of her motherly instincts focused on the survival of her child regardless of the risk or danger.

Without hesitation, she fell atop of Ehizokie and used her own body to shield the infant as certain death approached. She had rubbed the blood of her slain son on her clothes, face, and arms to appear wounded and she laid face down and still to fake death. She held her breath as long as possible to avoid even the slightest movement. Her only hope was that the warriors would be careless and not check every body for signs of life. It was a vain hope because when the fighting stopped, the Oyo warriors moved through the dead and stripped away beads and bright colored cloths as trophies for their wives back home.

They moved from one body to the next with a regular rhythm that required each warrior to individually check the bodies of each enemy, and afterward to run a spear through the body to ensure death and to spare crippled warriors long-term suffering. As they moved through the field of bodies, their spears plunged into the corpses of the slain in a rhythmic cadence of check and spear, check and spear. The Oyo warriors were accustomed to the old trick in which wounded victims or crafty enemies often pretended death only to rise up and kill an unsuspecting warrior caught off guard. The Oyo took no chances; they speared every corpse to protect against any surprise resurrections. They seized the children as spoils of war; girls sacrificed, and boys raised to be Oyo warriors or sold to slave traders.

The final grunts of dozens of mothers who tried to appear dead filled the air as spears took their lives, as their crying babies were stripped from their arms. The gods would be pleased to accept their cries and tears as a tribute to the loyalty of the Oyo people.

Ehizokie didn’t move underneath her mother. The impact of her crash to the ground was too much. She lay motionless and made no sounds. There was no indication of life. She did not hear the final grunt of her mother or see the tip of the spear that burst out of her chest just inches away from her head. A drop of her mother’s blood dripped from the spear tip and painted her forehead in the crimson color of death.

Just as suddenly as the Oyo warriors appeared, they disappeared in the trees and tall grasses, leaving behind the bodies of scores of villagers, warriors, and children. The sour and sickening smell of blood and death was everywhere; it was total devastation.

As the drums telegraphed their renewed warning, Ehizokie woke up.

She cried. She screamed.

Nobody heard.

2

Panther Cub

THE WOODS WERE LEFT PEPPERED WITH THE BODIES OF DAHOMEY² villagers. The Oyo warriors carried away scores of men and childbearing women for its slave trade and left the rest to rot in the sun. iEfosa’s body lay in the open field. His right hand stiffly reached out to his son as if he could still touch him even after death. His wife slumped over the boy partially shielding his body with her right arm. Her lifeless eyes stared into nowhere as flies buzzed around them.

iEfosa and his family were victims of the endless battles and skirmishes between the Oyo and the people of Dahomey. The Oyo were very militaristic, well trained, fierce warriors with a thirst for war that was encouraged by European Slave Traders who wanted more slaves to fill their ships. They always fought the Fon to control the flow of slaves to the traders. The warring kingdoms fought until a deal was struck between them that seemed to end the hostilities, or at least decrease the number of conflicts and give some semblance of peace. The arrangement was simple: The Fon people could participate in the selling of slaves as long as they paid tributes consisting of a large number of slaves each year.

iEfosa and other men of his village complained about the toll in human lives that the annual tributes placed on each village. They sent representatives who delicately delivered their complaints to the king, along with the concerns of other villages. In 1802, King Abandozon³ did not pay the tribute. In retaliation, the Oyo unleashed its fury on the coastal villages of Dahomey as a warning of what lay in store for the entire Fon kingdom if it continued to neglect payment of the tributes. The drums sent the message that the tributes must be paid or the people would feel the power of the Oyo; death and destruction would undoubtedly follow.

It was a sheer wonder that Ehizokie lived because the Oyo usually left no survivors after their raids. They either killed everyone or took slaves in merciless assaults designed to instill fear and submission among their enemies. This time one person survived.

The baby cried as she crawled from underneath her mother’s lifeless body. Mud covered her body from her head to her toe. She hit her mother’s dead body thinking she would wake up, but the body did not move. Soon, predators came through the woods and feasted on the remains. There were so many corpses to feast on that none of them came near her even though they heard the cries of the human child.

When the rains came, she had no idea what to do or how to find shelter, so she cried even more. The downpour drenched her entirely and caused her to sit in a puddle of grass, mud, and blood with a stench that resisted purification by raindrops alone.

That’s when she saw them, a Black Panther and her four kittens coming straight towards her. Several big cats heard the baby’s cries, but were too occupied with their sudden meals conveniently left for them to devour. The other big cats ignored the baby, but this Mother Panther heard the human baby crying and moved in the direction of the sound. She walked between a leopard feeding nearby and a young lion on the other side of the field. Two other big cats were laying down on the ground, feasting on human arms, legs, and organs when the Mother Panther walked majestically through the field of mangled and rotting bodies. As she walked, buzzards stopped feeding long enough to flap their wings in a flutter and move to the sides with fresh human flesh in their beaks. A Tiger had an arm in its mouth; it cautiously moved to the side. The others began to pull back, instinctively knowing that a Black Panther protecting her young was even more dangerous than at other times. They pulled back, but never stopped tearing at sinews or gnawing bones.

The big cat came close to Ehizokie and stared at her, nose to nose. The cubs came close too, inspecting this new creature, waiting for a sign from the mother indicating whether they should kill and eat the creature or play with it. If this were a meal, this creature, defenseless and vulnerable would be an easy catch. If it was a playmate, then the cubs would be free to toy with it, bite it gently, and to wrestle with this strange specimen. The Mother Panther sniffed the child and immediately confirmed the familiar odor of humans. She then inspected the remains of the woman who had concealed her and smelled the baby again; she made the connection that the child’s mother was dead. There was no silent signal to attack or to be cautious, so the little ones knew that this human child was either a potential friend or a harmless toy for their amusement.

Ehizokie did not know she was in danger; she swatted at the big cat, hit its nose and giggled. The panther responded, not with a giggle, but with a loud roar, not because she was in pain, but to mark her claim of superiority. When they heard that roar, creatures familiar with the sounds of the jungle, shuddered out of fear and hid to protect themselves, but Ehizokie laughed. She thought the roar was playful and was too tickled to be afraid. The panther roared again, and the child laughed again. Puzzled by this giggling human infant left alone to fend for itself, the panther lay in the grass, faced Ehizokie and gazed at her for what seemed an eternity. The Mother Panther’s gaze was intense and focused on the playful infant who was so innocent that she had no idea that she was staring death in the face. The few elongated minutes that the infant sat swatting at the nose of this jungle predator and laughing at its roar were enough to allow the big cat to decide what to do. The panther made an unceremonious decision that would influence the child for the rest of its life. By granting life to Ehizokie, she would be protected and shielded from the dangers of the forest.

The decision came after the cubs playfully approached the baby and began to rub against her and purr as the mother watched in awe at the way her little ones accepted the human so quickly. They were too young to know that humans were natural enemies of panthers. To the cubs, the human was just another cub, even if it did not look like them.

With a motherly instinct that blurred the line between humans and creatures of the forest, the mother grabbed the loose straps that once tied Ehizokie to her mother’s back and lifted her from the ground and slowly walked away with the girl dangling from the cloth cords that were locked tightly in the Mother Panther’s teeth. As she walked, with her cubs following, the other predators watched, but none dared interfere in what had to be a strange occurrence; panthers didn’t usually care for humans, but today was an exception to the rule.

The panther and her cubs returned to their den where the cubs immediately began to play and wrestle with each other, with Ehizokie sitting in their midst. They rubbed against her and pushed her down so they could play. They seemed to enjoy prowling. They took several inquisitive steps and then stopped, listened and investigated. They moved in circles around Ehizokie and then pushed her down as they playfully pushed each other, rolled over on their backs and leaped to their feet again. Their play ritual always involved running, stopping and listening as they stood still for long moments and then dashed away. Ehizokie laughed and tried to imitate their play routine. She crawled on all fours and stood still for extended periods. When they made dashes around the den, she attempted to follow as they stealthily moved through the tall jungle grass displaying their growing sleuthfulness. She scarred her knees and legs crawling but found she could keep up with them better if she cobbled after them on two legs. The Mother Panther saw the scars and scratches and licked them as she cuddled the human child who cried in discomfort.

Their play was a mixture of romp and skill training. While the cubs played, they were sharpening their skills as the predators they would become in a few short months. They chased rodents and tried to pry them from their underground hideaways. They swatted flies with their paws and showed a quickness that would have blurred the eye of any observer. Ehizokie’s quickness developed, too. She sat on the ground and caught flies in her hand as they swarmed overhead with one sharp snap after another. When they chased each other around a shrub, Ehizokie was in the chase, running around bushes, reaching for the tail of another, playfully biting it and being knocked down in return. They rolled in the grass and purred as they dashed about with a swiftness that increased with each passing day. Each of their games seemed to be a rehearsal for more serious romps in the months ahead. As they learned, Ehizokie learned, too.

The Mother Panther left the den for several hours each day and when she returned she sat among her young and nursed them as well as Ehizokie, the stranger in the den. Her milk contained six times more fat than other animals in the jungle causing her four kittens to grow quickly. They soon began to resemble the powerful predators they would become rather than the cute little kittens they were at birth. Ehizokie, nursed from the same milk, grew as well. She grew stronger than the average child and was fast on her feet, but not as fast as her newfound feline friends.

Soon the kittens were walking more with their mother and wandering outside of the den alone. As their first act of independence, they learned to climb trees. Leopards are among the fastest tree climbers in the forest. They climbed trees to escape their enemies and to corner their preys. Climbing was an essential skill that they somehow communicated to the human child. Ehizokie tried to climb but often fell, much to the amusement of the kittens. They had what she did not have, sharp claws that sunk into the tree bark and gave them strong grips as they effortlessly scaled the sides of trees like they were stairways. As time passed, Ehizokie improved her climbing skills. Although she never learned to climb as fast as the cats, she was faster than any human at any age.

When the Mother Panther moved about outside of the den, instead of staying home, the kittens tagged alone, playfully waiting and watching as the mother stalked a prey. Ehizokie was not allowed to follow because her human scent would signal potential prey. She stayed in the den as instructed. Each day’s meal depended upon what the Mother Panther found available. Sometimes the family dined on wild pig, jackal or any unfortunate creature not swift enough to escape her clutches. On more productive days an antelope fell prey to the swiftness and strength of the Mother Panther, and on those days all five of them fed themselves from the catch. Ehizokie sat naked and plunged her head and hands into the carcass and came forth with a mouthful of bloody sinew and muscle. She pulled on one piece of bloody flesh with her hands and chewed the rubbery strips as blood gushed between her teeth. She ate until she was full and left the rest for the others. With typical feline attention to hygiene, the Mother Panther licked the blood from Ehizokie’s face until it was clean.

The cubs grew fast. In a matter of months, they were no longer the little kittens that played and wrestled. They each weighed nearly 75 pounds with sharp teeth, razor-like claws, and brown eyes that could see in the dark. They were destined to become the fear of all creatures below them in the food chain; too dangerous to confront and too powerful to threaten.

Ehizokie was agile for a five-year-old human. After three years in the company of the Mother Panther, she now captured her own prey. A cornered squirrel found that she was as quick as a panther and moved with great speed to block its escape, jumping to the left and right with ease and finally pouncing on the defenseless animal. Killing to survive became a routine Ehizokie performed easily and without thought. Each day she became less dependent on the Mother Panther for her survival.

One day, a family of Fon was in the woods gathering herbs and wild edibles for their huts, and they spotted Ehizokie sitting alone, but watching them. The child now walked erect, but sometimes walked on all fours like a panther when convenient. She had seen humans before and stared at how they always walked on two legs, never all fours, and made sounds to communicate with each other; they called it talking. The Mother Panther taught the cubs to stay clear of humans and not to attack them as food. They were a curiosity that mystified most of the animal kingdom because they killed for sport and captured creatures to look at them in cages. Humans were strangers in the jungle, but not considered fodder for meals as a main course. If attacked, the Mother Panther taught the cubs to protect themselves but otherwise, stay away.

Look, it’s a girl, said Nekpen pointing to the child who followed them and hid behind trees. Nekpen was a gentle man, slow to excite, but the sight of the girl electrified him.

Why is she here in the woods alone? Where is her mother? asked Osarobo, staring at the girl who dashed from treetop to treetop with stealth and speed, swinging on limbs and jumping from one branch to another. The family members pointed to the trees at the little girl who jumped from limb to limb and stared at them from a safe distance.

As they continued to pick herbs, Osarobo noticed that the child was overly curious about them. She sometimes came close with guarded steps, and head turned to the side.

The girl’s mother should be reported to the king. Her father must be derelict. What father would allow such recklessness? It’s dangerous for a girl that young to be alone in the woods, said Osarobo. She stared at the small girl peeping at them from behind the trees.

"A wild animal could attack or even the Oyo," said Nekpen.

Others in the family continued to collect wood and herbs, but they kept their eyes on the girl as well. They noticed that the child watched them as much as they watched her. At first, she was a spectacle as the women strained to see the human child who acted like an animal. Soon the novelty wore off, and they resumed collection of firewood only occasionally glancing at her.

How old is she? Osarobo asked.

Looks about five rains, her husband answered, staring at her.

Think of that, a girl that little out here alone. She is not from our village. If she were from our village, someone would have alerted us. We would have all been looking and searching.

"If the Oyo catches a girl that small they will take her back to their village and sacrifice her to the gods. It’s not good for her to be here alone," Nekpen said.⁴

Go get her, said Osarobo with a commanding voice.

Nekpen would typically not respond to a command from a woman, at least not in public. A woman who ordered her husband to do anything was considered disrespectful by the village. Osarobo often led him into decisions; she made better decisions. In their hut, she regularly charted the family’s direction but was always careful to credit him for endorsing her wise choices. In the presence of others, she rarely took command. When she commanded him to get the girl, the others in the family, especially the old women, frowned on her action. She had embarrassed her husband; he would respond to reclaim his respect.

Are you ordering me?

No, my husband, I’m only suggesting that it would be wise and therapeutic for you to get her, she may need help. Since you are both wise and helpful, it is only natural that you should go and get her.

Her words were received with a smile because he knew she meant what she first said but changed her tone because there were other family members within earshot.

He stepped toward Ehizokie, and suddenly the girl stopped moving from tree to tree and stared at the strange looking human who approached her. He was older than the rest, with a balding head and dark leathery skin. He had no spear and did not look frightening. Ehizokie saw others gathering. Mothers stopped their children from playing and held them close. Old women stared as the man came closer.

It’s going to be alright little girl. I won’t hurt you, said Nekpen. As he came nearer, the girl suddenly crouched and growled at him showing her teeth, the same way a panther would do to an attacking predator. The girl screamed, imitating the screeching howl of the panther. The screech startled the villagers, and the stuck them with a sense of pity that such a cute girl had been left to grow up so wildly. The screech startled them, but it did not frighten them. A full-grown panther that gave such a sound would have terrified a prey and completely disarmed it as it trembled in fear. However, a screech from a girl of only five rains was more of an oddity than a source of fear.

Nekpen did not anticipate this response. The girl acted like a wild animal. What type of girl was she?

In a matter of seconds, the Mother Panther charged from trees up and roared. This time the family members scattered to safety, hiding behind trees and from a distance watched as the great panther stared at Nekpen who had no weapon and was completely defenseless. He did not move because a sudden move might be interpreted as aggressive and prompt an attack. He considered his options which were few. He could try to run, but the beast would surely catch and kill him. He could stand and draw the attack and pit his strength against the predator, but that would end in death, or he could assume an aggressive stance and hope the predator would choose not to fight. His options all seemed to spell death. He froze as the ferocious beast moved toward him.

Osarobo carefully moved to her husband’s side and stared at the panther.

Don’t say anything, my husband. Don’t try to be brave. Back away, she whispered to Nekpen.

What do you mean?

The panther roared again, marking its territory and delivering a warning to the humans.

Can’t you see, this Panther has somehow raised this child as one of her cubs. She’s protecting her. You are a man. You are a hunter; back away, Osarobo said while continuing her stare into the Mother Panther’s eyes. She took a step in front of him and motioned for him to get behind her with one hand.

Nekpen did not argue; he carefully stepped behind his wife, a position no Fon man enjoyed. A Fon man led his wife; he did not follow her. Yet, somehow it appeared that Osarobo was right. Osarobo bowed holding her head down and whispered to Nekpen, Bow down. Hold your head down my husband.

The Mother Panther recognized the universal sign of submission among creatures of the wild and did not attack but stared at the wise human woman. The woman seemed interested in the human cub she had nurtured for three years, long after the other cubs had left the den. Ehizokie came from behind the trees and stood behind the Mother Panther, naked, ungroomed and wild in every respect.

Osarobo raised her head and saw the girl. She yearned to reach out and embrace her because apparently she had been raised as an animal with no mother to teach her civilized life. She felt suddenly connected with her as if the voices of her ancestors were speaking to her, urging her to take this wild thing into her care.

She slowly moved forward, and the child growled and screeched, but Osarobo looked at the Mother Panther and then fixed her gaze upon the child. Her eyes telegraphed a silent message of restraint and care only mothers, whether animal or human, would understand.

As Osarobo came closer, the girl quickly leaped to a tree, dug her long fingernails deep into its bark and climbed to a high branch in the tree, a feat she had perfected with three years of practice. She looked down at the woman and sneered.

Looking up at her, Osarobo felt pity as her mind flooded with questions. What happened to her mother? Something must have happened to her family and maybe her entire village otherwise everyone would have searched for her. Rearing of children was a village responsibility; every woman was a child’s mother, and every man was its father or uncle. If an orphaned child wandered alone, it was sure to be embraced, protected, and nurtured by another family and taught the Fon way. The only way a child could be alone is that its entire village had been destroyed. Osarobo’s heart went out to this child who stared at her, perched in a tree, she concluded that it would be a tragedy for her to grow up wild and alone.

"Come down, I’ll take you home with me and show you how to live as a Fon woman," said Osarobo.

Ehizokie did not respond but looked down at the strange human. She looked like the woman who fell on her in the field. Her features were like her own because she had fingers instead of claws and she had no whiskers. Her breasts were not like those of the Mother Panther either; she only had two. She did not purr or roar. She spoke the odd sounds like the woman she faintly knew; was there a connection?

There is no reason to fear me, great mother. I will not hurt this child. I will not cause you harm, said Osarobo, looking at the Mother Panther and then at the girl. She fought desperately to ensure that every bone in her body did not rattle loud enough for every creature in the forest to hear. She was afraid but could not show fear or this beast would sense it and respond as she would against an enemy. She did not want the animal to see her as an adversary, but as another mother, reaching out for its kind with a maternal instinct that is universal.

The Mother Panther seemed to sense that this human child had found its place. Her role as a protector and provider had come to an end; the human child would be better served if she lived among her own. She had served the child well. She saved her life and taught her to survive. She looked up at the child crouched in the tree and gave a screeching howl. The birds that had been watching from the trees suddenly flew into the air, placing distance between themselves and what was about to happen. They knew that sound, and they knew that it meant death to any prey within its range. Panthers protected their range from intruders, enemies, and threats, including humans if they came too close.

Osarobo did not move.

Ehizokie did not move.

The Mother Panther walked close to Osarobo and sniffed her. There was a purr gurgling in her throat mixed with a growl; not as intimidating as before but enough strike fear in any prey. Osarobo knew she faced the prospect of death because one paw swipe of the great cat could knock her off her feet and immobilize her. Seconds later she could be dead. Despite her fear, she did not move, allowing the Mother Panther to complete her inspection. To convince herself that the human would protect the child the Mother Panther circled and sniffed her again. Much to Osarobo’s surprise, the beast turned and ran into the woods. The child looked with panic as the Mother Panther trotted into the thick brush. She waited for her to return as the human below kept babbling to her with her arms raised. Finally, she heard a loud scowl and screech from the forest. It seemed to order her to go with the humans and learn their ways. The Mother Panther would not return.

Ehizokie understood that it was safe for her to come down to the strange human. She also knew she would never see the Mother Panther again.

Like any child afraid and alone, the girl did not scowl or screech. She cried.

All Osarabo saw was a defenseless child. She grabbed her and hugged her close to her breast as the others in the family, relieved, ran to her and embraced the child, who looked at them with puzzlement.

Osarobo looked at Nekpen for his permission to bring the child home. He nodded.

Osarobo walked away from the woods with Ehizokie holding her hand.

Ehizokie looked back to the trees but saw nothing.

She was the last cub to leave the den.

3

Nobody’s Wife

FOR TEN YEARS OSAROBO RAISED EHIZOKIE AS HER DAUGHTER. Nekpen agreed to allow her to come to his hut but after the first week, he concluded that the girl was an animal and not suited for life in the village. However, since he gave his word to Osarobo, he allowed her to stay. He did not interfere, but he didn’t help either. Osarobo did not give up, but wrestled with the girl and loved her, even though she screamed and threw utensils around the hut, walked on all fours and resisted baths and wearing clothes. She loved her, but she had been trained by another mother and learning a different lifestyle from that of the den was challenging.

Osarobo taught her to speak the Fon language, and how to live as a human being. It was difficult, but she learned to eat from a bowl and to wipe when she peed. It took years for her to learn not to eat food with her hands. Even after a decade, she still favored the taste of bloody, raw meat rather than meat cooked over a fire. It took some time to get her not to scowl when she was upset.

As the years passed, she learned the social etiquettes of the tribe with resistance, but Osarobo’s patience never faltered.

If a visitor comes to our hut and you offer them a gourd of water, you must take a sip from the same gourd before you give it to them, said Osarobo as Ehizokie sat in front of her inside the hut and listened.

Why? If the drink is for them, why should I sip from it? asked Ehizokie.

To show them the drink is safe and there is no poison. The visitor will take a sip and spit it out to show respect for the dead who provide the opportunity to drink for the living, Osarobo said.

It does not make sense to me. My ancestors are dead. The Mother Panther finds water we drink to stay alive, those who are dead are dead, said Ehizokie.

You are not a panther. For a short time in your life, you were reared by the Mother Panther, but your mother is among the ancestors. She guided the Mother Panther to you; she watches over you each day. We show respect for the ancestors, Osarobo said firmly.

These were difficult lessons for Ehizokie because she considered the Mother Panther as her mother and resisted the silly rules of the village. It seems there were rules about everything, even about what to say to someone in the morning. To her it seemed useless to ask each person in the hut, Did you wake up well? She felt it was senseless to kiss a relative three or four times on alternating cheeks since she didn’t consider any of the villagers her relatives. She resisted, but she learned to bow slightly when in the presence of an elder and never to interrupt an elder’s conversation. She learned to eat porridge made of maize along with yams, fried bananas, and grits but yearned for the taste of raw meat. Meat was rare in the village, until the hunts; in-between hunts porridge, and yams were the main entrees. The Mother Panther always had meat, every day.

While she succeeded in orienting her to the communal expectations of humans, it was difficult. The independent ways of the Panther had been locked into her mind and would never be removed for better or worse. The Mother Panther was a loner, she independently cared for her cubs, provided her own food and needed no male to protect her. She was a ferocious fighter, cunning predator and yet a caring parent. Like the cubs she bore, Ehizokie somehow inherited that spirit, and it made it difficult for her to adjust to the role she was expected to play as a Fon girl.

Mama Bo, why is it that the women of the village must follow the direction of the men? asked Ehizokie.

It is the will of the gods, who made men stronger and better suited for the village.

If they are stronger and better suited then why don’t the men do the chores, harvest the fields, and wash the clothes and let the weak ones rest? asked Ehizokie.

You must not speak of such things; it is not acceptable for a Fon girl to think such thoughts, you should not speak them, Nekpen will be angry. Obediently, Ehizokie stopped asking questions, but she still questioned why the men could be warriors and the women could not. She also wondered why the women performed most of the domestic duties while the men sat around the village, relaxed and unless hunting, only told stories about the past while drinking fermented brews. Why couldn’t they share some of the domestic duties? Each time she asked Osarobo, she received a warning not to speak of such things.

Despite Osarobo’s best efforts, Ehizokie still clung to old habits. Nearly every night, she sneaked out of the hut to a clearing in the jungle and sat quietly listening to the sounds of the night. Her eyes seemed to shift their focus in the dark; she took off her clothes and moved between the trees, occasionally on all fours. Naked, she could see without being seen; her dark skin, like that of the panther, blended with the darkness of the forest. She listened for the scowl of the Mother Panther, but she never heard it again. Sometimes she lay in the brush, curled up in a ball, and dreamed of her days in the den. She always returned to the hut before the village awoke.

Nekpen did not spend time rearing Ehizokie, he focused on insuring that the family paid its taxes which increased each year. The king increased taxation on every village to pay the tribe’s annual tribute to the Oyo. The chief or Toxausu of each village was bound to carry out the directives of the king even though it meant placing heavy burdens on the families of the village. If he refused to carry out an order of the King he would be visited by a small regiment of the king’s soldiers and escorted out of the village for an audience before the leader; probably he would not return, and another would become Toxausu. He may have been chief of the village, but he was powerless to ignore the will of the king.

Nekpen talked to many fathers in the village, and they told him that they paid their tax demand by marrying off the girls in their families in exchange for animals, beads and other instruments of value that could be used for trade and to pay their taxes. Girls were considered marketable assets and were barter properties to be sold to improve the financial status of the family. Many families found themselves forced to barter away their daughters just to pay taxes imposed by the king. Increasingly, Nekpen saw marrying off Ehizokie as the only solution to his taxation problem. Mothers of the village did not embrace the practice but accepted it as a logical step in a girl’s village life cycle.

Nekpen and Osarobo disagreed about marrying off Ehizokie because she was different than the other girls of the village. Osarobo, like most Fon women, accepted her fate and that of her children. She knew that one day her boys would go off to war with the king and her daughters would be married off to a man of the village to bear his children and please him. However, there was something different about Ehizokie; she did not fit the regular pattern of expectation for women. She was as beautiful as any girl in the village but stronger than most of the village boys. She suspected that Ehizokie’s catlike eyes and sly personality both attracted and repelled suitors, contributing to her being passed over for marriage frequently. She felt that the ancestors protected her and guided her to a higher destination. She felt the ancestors would reveal her destiny soon. Until then, Osarobo taught her the healing arts, to appreciate life and to listen to the inner voices that speak to her spirit; it’s the way the ancestors speak to all descendants. She would not be any man’s wife, to walk in his shadow, she had a greater gift and destiny than washing clothes, bowing and frying bananas.

Ehizokie was already three years past the age of marrying. At fifteen rains, a girl with no children was pitied by the old women of the clan. A strong Fon woman could produce many children, perhaps as many as twenty for her husband. Since there were times after delivery when intimacies were prohibited by tribal taboos, achieving the goal of twenty children required girls to begin their marital relations as young as twelve rains. A virgin girl of fifteen rains had a diminished value to her father and her immediate household. A Fon man could have as many wives as he could support. To support them he participated in the village hunt and brought home meat for the cook fires. He built them huts and protected them if they were attacked. He also offered prayers for them to the gods of Voudon and to the ancestors to ensure their safety and well-being. The more wives he took, the greater responsibility he assumed. He expected each wife to bear him many children to guarantee him a grand funeral when he died. A man who had a grand funeral had an established place among the Vudu or ancestor gods. However, there was no place in the pantheon of Voudon for the women who bore the children of his grand funeral.

Nekpen wanted to sell the Panther Girl; that’s what he called her. She had no other importance to him because she was not his blood. Her children would not be a part of his grand funeral because she was not his blood; she would increase the funeral entourage of another. Her value was in her barter price which declined each rain. Each rain that she did not marry made it more difficult because few Fon men wanted to marry a girl so old.

Ehizokie made it even more difficult because she was grossly independent and questioned the traditional ways of the Dahomey, especially those that prescribed limitations on her that were not imposed on men. She refused to accept that a man was inherently superior to a woman and should play a subservient role in village life. She questioned why she should be valued only by her worth as an instrument of barter and trade dismissing her life as something insignificant. Sometimes she made her reservations known; when she did, Nekpen apologized to those who observed her actions and promised to teach her better. Even as he spoke the words, however, he knew Ehizokie would never change.

The boys in the village had to adjust to Ehizokie because she did not participate in the dancing, singing, and weaving games of the girls, but found satisfaction competing in the boy’s games. She bested male competitors in every wrestling contest. They found her to be as strong and agile as a big cat. She pinned them easily, even those that were twice her size fell to the dusk and begged for mercy once she threw them to the ground. They wondered how any girl as beautiful and shapely as Ehizokie could be such a tenacious wrestler. She also won the foot races, leaving her closest competitors yards behind. A girl who lived among the panthers developed speed as a matter of survival; these games were child’s play, but they were at least an entertaining diversion.

Ehizokie, who climbed like a Panther, outclimbed every boy in the village. She scampered up a tree in record time and often mocked the cumbersome climbing methods of some of the older, more experienced, boys. Often the toughest male opponents would find excuses to avoid the embarrassment of a defeat at the hands of a female. Some viewed her as an anomaly, born on the day that the gods of Voudon were confused.

In stick games, where boys maneuvered a cloth ball with a stick through a maze of competitors to make a goal, she was swifter and more agile than any of them. A girl who was raised like a panther and who chased rabbits and squirrels for sport had no problems keeping track of a cloth ball being hit with a stick.

She’s not normal. No girl can do what she does, said one of the boys who watched her from a distance. The village boys sat in the center circle of the village and regularly discussed girls. Ehizokie was one of the best looking girls in the village. Her cat eyes, long legs, pearly white teeth and firm breasts caught the attention of both men and boys, but she intimidated them all.

No boy either, said another boy who looked her way and laughed.

I think the gods were mixed up when she was born; they intended a boy but were completely turned around when they got to her. When they realized their mistake it was too late, said another.

How would you like to be married to that? said yet another pointing at her.

"That is the word. I don’t know what she is, but that is certainly not going to be anybody’s wife," said the first boy.

"She is a fine specimen of Fon woman, but I fear for any man who marries her. He won’t live through the night."

How can any Fon girl be so beautiful and be nearly sixteen rains and not have a single child?

Her beauty is a curse that laughs at her every night, said one of the boys.

Ehizokie knew the boys talked about her, but she had no time for childish games with boys who have no idea how to live or survive. As she and the old woman sat in their hut, they both watched the boys across the village square look toward her hut and jeer. She had become immune to their intended humiliations.

Ehizokie, you must not taunt the boys with your physical abilities; they have never seen anyone like you. You are special, said Osarobo.

I don’t feel special, I feel strange. I don’t think I fit. The girls my age are talking about being married and having children. All they talk about is what man will claim them as a wife and how much will be paid for them. The boys look at the girls and look for someone to lord over. I don’t feel special, said Ehizokie.

Osarobo watched Ehizokie standing in the door of the hut. If she were an ordinary girl, she would be married already. She stood tall and erect, with midnight black skin that glistened against the heat. She was a perfect specimen of womanhood, even for the age of fifteen rains. Her pearly white teeth and penetrating but lusty eyes were beacons that announced her desirability. However, there was something about her that made her both attractive and dangerous at the same time.

It’s that unknown quality that worried Nekpen because he could not arrange a marriage for a girl who did not enjoy his confidence. He would have to assure any potential father-in-law that the new bride he secured for his son was not only a beautiful virgin but also a potentially good wife who humbly follows her husband, copulates on demand and bears many children. Ehizokie’s spirit of independence would not make her a good wife. He would probably be stuck with her for many years. After twenty rains, she would be labeled an old maid; too much trouble and too little fertility for eligible husbands.

As far as Ehizokie was concerned, not being married was real freedom. She enjoyed knowing that she was not considered a good catch by the men of the village. She pitied the other girls, who would be sentenced to a life of forced submission only because they were women.

She looked at the boys across the village square, all standing together laughing and waiting for the day they would claim a woman as their personal slave.

She considered being a wife or a slave one and the same.

4

The Healer

THE WOMAN CAME TO OSAROBO COMPLAINING OF HEADACHES. SHE was hysterical, babbling and incoherent. She held her head when she talked and appeared to be in pain. No matter what she tried, nothing made the ache in her head go away, including all known herbs and remedies. The woman came to Osarobo because she was a known healer in the village; everyone told her that Osarobo would know how to solve her problem.

Every woman in the village knew scores of remedies for common sicknesses. They were familiar with remedies for routine cuts and bruises, menstrual cramps, burns, and scalds. However, there were some illnesses that they could not understand; these they attributed to signs, hexes or omens that only those with special gifts could understand. Osarobo was a healer, but she was also a holy woman. She did not cast spells or hexes, but she often helped villagers understand the nature of their sicknesses. They came to her because she had answers for the unseen and unexplained maladies that were frequent enough for her to develop a regular clientele that brought offerings in return for her services.

Ehizokie watched as the old healer responded to each visitor. Her eyes were like sponges soaking up the words she said and remembering which herbs to use for specific problems. Osarobo seemed to know exactly what to say and do to respond to each illness. She was a healer of the mind and body; often her words alone healed those with unseen maladies. Ehizokie listened as each patient complained and noticed that there was no pattern to the words she said; there was no formula or cataloged chant reserved for specific illnesses, but yet she spoke words that healed. The old woman hoped to pass this knowledge to Ehizokie.

It won’t stop hurting, no matter what I do, the woman said as she described a list of remedies and solutions offered by the elderly of her family. What they told her gave temporary relief, but the pains always returned. She needed the problem solved. She sought out Osarobo for the answer.

Osarobo showed the woman a seat on a wooden stool. She sat for a moment and stared at her. She said nothing but listened. Without giving a hint of what she discovered or suspected, she began to ask the woman questions speaking just above a whisper.

Are you at peace with your children? asked Osarobo.

I am at peace, but it keeps hurting.

How do you know you are at peace?

I watch them laugh when they play the monkey game. I join in and laugh with them. I show my children what they need to know, and they listen to me, and I listen to them.

Osarobo said nothing for a long moment as her mind and spirit processed the woman’s words and prepared the next question. Are you at peace with your neighbors?

Yes, my neighbors and I are at peace.

How do you know you are at peace?

I watch the children of my neighbors, and they watch mine. We share remedies for sickness. We talk the friendly talk as we wash by the river. We do not fight. We trust each other, and we share. I am at peace with my neighbors.

Are you at peace with your husband? – The woman took a long pause; her face was a blank, then she dropped her head and folded her hands in front of her. The healer said nothing else but waited for a response.

There was no answer.

Are you at peace with your husband? Osarobo asked again. She sensed from the woman’s response that the source of her was near.

No Mama Bo. I am not at peace, the woman confessed.

What breaks your peace? Osarobo ased.

The woman dropped her head in shame. No matter what I do, he is not happy. The hut is always clean. I sweep it over and over to make sure there is no dust. I always make his favorite foods and prepare his evening meal. I show him respect as my husband; I never argue with him or question his decisions, the woman said.

And- said Osarobo. She raised