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Chapter One

The Story of Day and Night

For four nights Uwargida did not appear at her regular spotin the courtyard, where she narrated Mallam Gizo, or Mr.Spider tales and other mythological stories to us every night.Uwargida was one of the four widowed grandmothers who livedin our house on Zongo Street, a densely populated section ofKumasi, Ghana's most prosperous city. Each of the four oldwomen were at one time married to Father's father, the Hausaking, who died some thirty years ago, when Father himself wasonly eleven years old. Uwargida's name means "mother of thehouse," which was exactly what she was: the king's first wife andthe oldest of the four wives. She was ninety-one.

The last night we saw Uwargida, she had promised to tellus "the story that began it all," the story of how light and darknesscame about on earth. "It's the most chilling story ever," shehad exclaimed in her raspy and rather thin voice as we escortedher back to her quarters that night. Grandmother Kandetold me that Uwargida's knees were bothering her once again, and that was why she had not made it down to the courtyard inthe past few nights.

"Now, don't you kids go disturbing Yaya Uwargida up there;her body has been arguing with her lately," shouted GrandmotherKande from her verandah, when she saw a host of children,myself included, sneaking our way up toward Uwargida'squarters.

"No, no, we are just going to pray for her knees to feel better,"said Sumaila, our spokesperson. Grandmother Kande nodded,giving us the go-ahead. We all giggled, happy that we had outsmartedGrandmother Kande again, and quickly made our wayup the small concrete hill that led to Uwargida's side of the bigcompound.

Once we were in her room, we tried to convince Uwargidathat it was indeed good for her health to come out and tell us thestory she had promised. "The gentle breeze will make you feelbetter," coaxed the sweet-mouthed Sumaila.

"It's the truth Sumaila is speaking, Uwargida," chirped in allof us, to put more pressure on the old woman.Moments later -- after a feeble attempt to drive us out of her room with hercane -- Uwargida decided to come with us. "All right, all right,but one of you should go and tell Barkisu to prepare charcoalfire," she said while struggling to lift herself off the nylon mat.(Barkisu was Uwargida's servant girl.) We grinned wildly at eachother, excited that not only was Uwargida going to come out andtell us the story, but she was also going to make us her freshlyroasted groundnut, the best in all of the city of Kumasi, and famousbecause of a secret ingredient and a special red sand sheused, which gave the nuts a perfect crunch and an earthy smell.

By the time Uwargida made her way slowly down to the centerof the house, more than thirty of us kids were already gatheredaround the charcoal fire. Some twenty minutes later, afterthe first batch of groundnuts had been distributed to everyone,the "mother of the house" was ready to tell us "the mother of allstories." The story of day and night.

"Gáta na, gáta nanku," Uwargida began with the traditionalopening line, inviting us to give her our full attention.

"Tajé, takómó,"we responded in a loud chorus, our mouths fullof groundnuts.

"Many many years ago," she continued in a soft, yet commandingvoice. "During the time of our ancestors' ancestors' ancestors,when the universe was first created, there lived a childlesswoman whose name was Baadiya.

"At that time, all the different creations, humans, jinns, andthe angels lived together in the same space, and they interactedwith each other. The angels and jinns roamed about the skiesfreely, without any need for food,water, or air; and they lived forever.It was the same story with humans.We, too, lived foreverback then, though unlike the angels and jinns, we needed foodand water to survive. And also, there was neither day nor nightand neither daylight nor darkness, as we have now. The universewas made up of a grayish, reddish fog, a sight that was hard todescribe" Uwargida paused, as if to allow what she had said sofar to sink into our heads.

"And it was in a small village in one of the lands of thisuniverse that Baadiya lived with her husband," she continued,amid the cracking noises made by the groundnut husks beingpopped open. "Every woman in this village, with the exception of Baadiya, had a child. It was all the more sad, because Baadiyawas a very kind woman and also her husband's first wife. Butwhen she didn't have a child within two years of their union,the husband married a second wife, a third wife, and evenadded a fourth one. The husband wanted more children, and soeach new wife got pregnant as soon as she stepped into hishouse. Before long, the three wives were jeering at Baadiya fornot having a child of her own. And anytime they had a littlequarrel or fight, the wives were apt to remind Baadiya of herchildlessness. After a while Baadiya couldn't stand the pain andsuffering any longer, and she decided to seek the help of medicinemen.

"She visited all the shrines and oracles of the fetish priests inthe land, seeking help, but none of them was able to assist her.They told her they had no child to give at that time. EventuallyBaadiya took her cries to Kato, who was half jinn and half angeland also the most powerful fetish priest in the land ...

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Excerpted from The Prophet of Zongo Street: Stories by Mohammed Naseehu Ali
All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.