Thor’s Day: The creation of the world

Based on a Yoruba myth

By Bob Boldt

Some years in the future, Obatala and his sidekick Oduduwa were reminiscing about how they created the world. Obatala, in his retirement, had resumed his drinking. The palm wine was flowing. As night fell, all gathered to hear about the first creation of the world and how the tribes of man were created. The fire grew stronger as the blue light of evening fell and a chill night blew all around.
    “I still remember how excited I was when God told me to make the earth.”
    Faces pressed closer as Obatala began his story. Oduduwa interrupted, “Yes, master, but I remember how you wanted us to stop by that big party at the Chief’s house to have a drink to celebrate. You said it wouldn’t hurt to have one drink, ‘would it?’”
    Obatala picked up a large stick from the dirt at his feet. He debated a minute whether to use it to strike his servant for his embarrassing reminder, turn it into a snake, or just toss it on the fire. Everyone seemed to sense his thought process, and there was great relief all around when he tossed it on the fire. Starry sparks shot high into the black air. The jungle night calmed and warmed a bit at this act by the Creator and even released its most fragrant scents. All relaxed as he returned to the story.
    “Yes, Oduduwa, it was a great feast—I give you that. There was much good dancing. The Chief’s wives cooked a side-stuffing banquet. The elders told tall tales, mostly made up not like my stories, which are all true!”
    The delighted crowd laughed in approval. On the edge of the circle, a toddler worked his way through the group and walked up to Obatala, plopping down at his feet – the best seat in the house. The great god laughed. He put the little one into his lap.
    “I became so drunk that I fell asleep.”
    To everyone’s amusement, the child began to snore loudly, as if on cue.
    “My faithful servant stole my calabash. He left the party and proceeded to pour the soil from it onto the water.”
    Then the smiling Oduduwa spoke up, “I made land, and that was how the world was created in a place called Ile-Ife.”
    Obatala threw on a second stick. The thirsty flames flared appropriately. “That should have been my job, but I got drunk. The story of my lapse got back to God, who punished me by making me create man. This was no job for a hung-over god. I made many mistakes before I sobered up—and because of my early bad attempts, disease and deformity came to earth. Who among us is perfect—neither gods nor men? Sometimes I wish I’d done a better job, especially when it came to men’s brains. You know I never did get that part right. I should have left him with the monkey’s brain. I guess that’s the reason it all fell apart. Tonight I have an announcement to make. God has called me back out of retirement for a new assignment. He wants me to have a second go at correcting some of my mistakes.
    “And this time I will try to stay sober,” he said, taking another large swig from his palm wine gourd.

Copyright © 2015 by Bob Boldt