Another day, Gboye and Aweni called Alake’s attention to further convince her of the danger of marrying Wole.
"That poor orphan boy, Wole, he can’t afford to feed himself with three square meals, let alone feeding you and your unborn children,’’ Aweni lamented, sadness was heavy in her voice.
"But that's my only choice, mother," Alake argued, "You don't need to worry much about my choice. I'm the one who's getting married to him, not you."
"Alake, shut up and listen to me!" Aweni bellowed and lowered her voice at the same time. "Marrying this boy will be a burden he won’t be able to bear. Why do you want to make yourself suffer? Why? Why do you want people to make mockery of us?’’
Aweni was struggling to fight back tears as she spoke. She thought the disappointment was too heavy for her to bear. Gboye, her many years husband she knew too well would never change his mind. She must pacify her daughter strongly to change her mind, yes, she must. That's the only choice left, she thought.
"Yes!’’ Gboye exclaimed, clearing his throat. He had been listening to their conversation sullenly. "The villagers with their basket mouths will say: ‘Do you know Chief Gboye’s first daughter? She has gone to marry a labourer.’ A poor labourer for that matter! I will never accept such blind choice for my daughter! Not even on my life!’’
"But Father, I don’t care whatever anyone says,’’ Alake said determinedly, tears start to stroll down from her eyes, falling into her Ankara-made extra large blouse called Buba. "They own their tongues and are free to wag it about. The village's spite doesn't move me an inch. Adewole may not be rich but he possesses all the qualities I want in a man. Both of you know he is a handsome, humble, diligent man…’’
"What kind of smelling words are you spewing from the gutter you called mouth?’’ Gboye interrupted Alake, violently banging his hands on the wooden bench which was carrying the three of them. Alake was sitting in the middle, so she felt the terror-striking bang straight in her heart. It made her heart skip beats and she shuddered with fear. "Is it his humility and diligence that will put food on your table and take proper care of your unborn children? It’s only an unwise maiden like you that would reject a horseman and choose a pedestrian.’’
"I plead to you, my husband, let’s take it easy with her,’’ pleaded Aweni. "I hope she’ll come back to her senses soon. Yes, very soon. It’s youthful exuberance that is troubling her. All I’m seeing in her is a young and inexperienced lady who needs more of life training…’’
"Woman, talk senses into your daughter’s head now!’’ Gboye said in a carefree scream as if what Aweni was saying did not matter. He stood up, stamping away in anger. "She is no longer a child! Admonish her!’’ She spoke from afar now, not turning back to look at his audiences as if their sight would provoke him into harming them. "I’ll have none of that labourer boy. No child of mine shall drag the name I have built over the years in the mud by marrying a pauper!’’
Aweni nodded in agreement, not because she thought Gboye was completely right, but because of the fear and respect she accorded him. In Ladele, it was a taboo for mothers to go against the fathers wish, especially concerning the kind of husbands or wives they wanted for their children. The fathers were the sole heads and paramount rulers of their homes. A protesting mother could face any punishment from the father and nobody would question him.
After Gboye has left the sorrowful looking mother and her sobbing daughter, Aweni drew closer to Alake.
"Hope you heard your father referring to you as my daughter?’’ She asked Alake in a grave, sorrowful tone. "Did I give birth to you alone?’’
Alake thought the question wasn’t meant for her, so she kept mute. The woman knew the answer to her question already, she thought, no need of answering her.
With a heavier heart, Aweni continued talking, looking into the endless empty space before her. "Obstinate children are for the mothers, while the obedient ones are for the fathers. That is one of the unfair judgments our society has pronounced on us, mothers. Is it a crime to suffer for nine moons of sleeplessness, and many days of food and water tasting like gall, just to become a mother? Is it an offence to carry a child on your back like a beast of laden and breast feed her for three years? Is it a bad thing to dance many nights and days without beats, just to keep your child happy and alive? Don’t we and the fathers give birth to the children and raise them together? Why should the blames of their misdemeanors rest on we mothers alone?’’
She turned to Alake sharply as if she just got aware of her presence. "You see, I don’t want people to say I made you go astray by heaping the black, fertile earth around your obstinacy. Perhaps, I’m not saying you’re all that wrong in accepting Adewole out of love. But, one thing I’m sure of is that your father and I want the best for you. Parents that would see their child go towards a pit, fold their hands and watch, are the wicked ones. We will never be like such parents. Never! You’re of a noble birth and deserve a better man than Adewole. Marrying this pauper will subject you to untold hardships which only love cannot bail you out of. Accept one of those rich suitors of yours and have a lasting, happy married life.’’
"But mother, I totally disagree with you and father referring to Wole as a pauper,’’ Alake countered, wiping off the tears in her eyes with her headscarf. "A person who works hard to feed himself is never a pauper. Moreover, haven’t you once told me how you and father got married when his barn was totally empty? It was when you both joined hands together that things became rosy over time. I beg of you mother.’’ Rolake went down on her knees before her mother with the quickness of a hawk about to snatch a chick and added, "You and father should allow us work for our own riches, too. If today is bitter, tomorrow will be better, if hard work, perseverance and true love are involved.’’
All Aweni’s pleadings and admonitions to make Alake nip her love for Wole in the bud proved abortive. Her passion for him grew stronger every passing day. Gboye stopped Wole from coming to his home or to work on his farm. But would that deter the love birds from meeting?
They had planned to use a secret sign to contact each. When the night fell and darkness hung onto the village atmosphere like a black giant gown on a dwarf, and when everyone had gone inside their huts, Wole would sneak near Gboye's compound. He would hide where nobody could see him and threw tiny pebbles on Gboye's corrugated zinc roof three times. That would produce sounds resembling that of a giant bird perching on the zinc roof. Nobody in the household would suspect it was not a bird that had made the sound because it was a common thing for birds, especially owls, to perch on roofs at nights. And most villagers would be scared to come out whenever they heard the sound because owls were seen as messengers of witchcraft groups or evil cults.
The villagers believed that when the owls hovered with their large eyes every dark night, they were looking for whom to attack spiritually, or human blood to suck in their spiritual realm.
Alake already knew what the sound stood for. So, she would open her louver-less and burglary-less window carefully, and crept out to meet Wole. The couple would then scamper to a secluded bush where they would sit hunched together at the foot of a large tree and discuss their past, presence and future. But won’t Gboye discover these secret meetings later somehow?