Dust continued to trickle from the lip of the old bottle onto the wooden tray.
“You went there,” she said.
“Yes. My body was born here but when I turned eighteen the tree called me to where my head was born. I walked in the Shasha forest with nothing to eat or drink. Young and stupid. But the tree watched over me. When I walked by, it dropped one of its thick limbs onto the ground as a gift to me. It spoke, saying, ‘that way, boy.’ I dragged the limb in the direction it pointed until I came to a town. A family living at the edge of it gave me pounded yams to eat. And a bottle of water.
“I needed rest so I stayed on their porch that night. My stomach was full so I slept easily. In my dream, thousands of termites marched in the moonlight. They swarmed the branch I’d dragged out of the forest, eating away the white wood with incredible speed. When I woke in the morning the branch was consumed. I gathered the dust from that feast into the empty water bottle and walked to the bus station. That was the beginning of my journey to Ifa.”
Have you made the journey to where your head was born? Click the link to read the book.
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