HTWWW

Scroll I – Scriptural Technology

Ọyọbi unfurls the papyrus-hemp scroll to reveal her grandmother’s handwriting. The scripts are just as sharp as they were when she first saw them as a child.

She hears Ṣẹgun clinking pots in the kitchen area behind her.

Bristling, she sets the intention for him to stop and he does, coming to sit in the rest area with the other men.

She feels their glances, but sharpens her focus and works to make sense of the scripts.

After reading a few pages, she comes to the section about the New World.

“Ṣi bue ọna njia,” she reads out loud in Kichwiyo.1

Closing her eyes, she repeats the prayer out loud ten times. The men’s eyes are fixed on her.

As she slowly flutters her eyes open, she sees that one of the men is signaling towards the opening of the tent. A light is entering, brightening the door panels.

She lifts herself up to peek outside the tent. The light is coming from a distance. Far to the right, where there was darkness before, she now sees an abundant light overhead, illuminating an expansive structure.  She motions for the men to follow her. The eight of them file out of the tent.

The structure, maybe half a mile away, appears to either be in ruins or in its beginnings. Cream-colored brick walls form much of the perimeter. They are uneven in height, and piles of brick surround them.

Clutching her skirt with one hand and the scrolls with the other, she picks up her pace. The men match her stride, flanking her on both sides and behind.

“Ki l’an ri?” she whispers to Zik, motioning for him to come nearer.2

“Mi o mọ o. O ṣe bi…” he trails off, his eyebrows raising with an inkling.

She perceives that he is remembering something that she too once saw.

As they near, it is clear that the brick perimeter surrounds something of a courtyard. A fountain sits at the center.

The sound of the water is nearly imperceptible at first, the force of sound increasing as they come to be just steps from the fountain.

The light source is directly above it. Ọyọbi looks up, to see a brightness unlike what she had seen in the Old World. This is not a sun, but an infinite source of light.

She dips her hands under the rushing water, cupping them sufficiently to drink from them.

She immediately feels a tingling, a freshness in her stomach. The men begin to drink from the water, one by one. The tingling spreads upward–Ọyọbi’s chest, arms, face, scalp, all feel it. Downward, she feels her thigh muscles flex, her legs, ankles, feet strengthen.

A surging of fresh energy moves through every inch of her body. She feels like she could run a marathon. Bouncing on her feet, her face eases into a smile. She’s unable to resist the laughter that erupts.

From Zik to Ṣẹgun to the other men, she watches smile lines fade. Forehead creases smoothen. Eye bags soften. She sees a tautness in Segun’s face that she hasn’t noticed in years.

As they all begin to notice what is happening, examining each other, their serious faces break into smiles. Boisterous laughter ensues.

The men begin to bounce, two of them start to race each other between the fountain and the highest wall. Ọyọbi rolls her eyes at them, sauntering off to examine this massive site and the partially strewn structure emerging from it.

She takes in the cream-colored brick walls, gleaming in parts like marble. Tracing the rugged upper edge of the perimeter wall, she notices that it leads to the top of a covered walkway. Columns line the walkway, at the perimeter of the courtyard.

As she moves toward the covered path, she notices the inlaid mural of petals, geometry and Kichwiyo scripts. Under the portico, her hands run gently over the design, her eyes glancing briefly at the men while she glides along the walkway.

The foot soldiers are playing hacky sack, the Capoeiristas doing handstands. Ṣẹgun is doing flips across the courtyard with Zik timing him.

Ọyọbi chuckles at them, feeling grateful and hoping the women can join them soon.

She notices an opening in the wall ahead–an archway. Stealing another quick glance at the men, she glides down, close enough to peek into the arch. It’s darker here, like a room without walls. All she sees is some debris on the ground.

Hesitant to cross the threshold, she whispers to the Divine, “Ẹyin wa pẹlu mi.”

She steps through the arch. Images of a prayer room begin to flash into her mind. She sees ornate rugs, paintings and scriptural art pop up all around her, filling the space. As the images fade, a breeze removes the dust from the debris on the ground, revealing a prayer bead and a folded rug.

“Ṣi bue ọna njia,” she repeats, moving to sit before the beads. She has seen them before. 

Opening the scrolls in her hand, she searches for a clue to explain the beads. Then the book of scrolls in her bag. She flips through the pages, landing on a sketch of prayer beads. They sit exactly as these beads sit before her, in the same formation.

Her eyes scan the inscription near the sketch, then the whole page. She returns to the inscription, sounding it out, then picking up the beads with her right hand.

She recites the prayer, closing her eyes: “Ma tu ulimwengu foforɔ naa silẹ ho.”

After ten recitations, her ears pick up the faint sound of rushing water. It becomes more and more audible, then incredibly loud.

She flutters her eyes open to see an ocean rushing rapidly towards her.

  1. Translations will be available to our community members in the Portal X Groupchat very soon. ↩︎
  2. If you know the meaning of this and subsequent lines, please share with other readers in the comments 😉 ↩︎

That concludes this installment. Subscribe to noirpress and join the Groupchat to be updated on future releases.