Shadows of Tradition

 

"In the shadows of tradition, love either bows… or breaks free."

In the ancient town of Ijebu-Ode, where myths walk beside men and the whispers of the ancestors still linger in the wind, lived a girl named Morounkeji.

Moroun was the only daughter of the Olórìṣà of Ayé Shrine, a revered priest who guarded the secrets of the old gods. Her world was steeped in chants, rituals, and rules. From birth, her path had been drawn by the hands of ancestors — she was to be the next custodian of the shrine, untouched by modern ways, untouched by love.

But fate had other plans.

Dare was a photographer from Ibadan — young, bold, and curious. He had come to Ijebu-Ode to capture forgotten traditions for an art documentary. His camera saw what others missed: the pain behind smiles, the stories hidden in silence, and the beauty in Moroun’s eyes.

The first time they met, it was under the twisted branches of the Odan tree, where Moroun often went to escape the weight of her destiny. Dare took her picture without asking.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” she said, voice trembling.

“Then tell me to delete it,” he replied, smiling.

She didn’t.

Their encounters grew. From silent stares to stolen moments in the marketplace. From awkward greetings to deep conversations under the moonlight. She taught him the meanings of the old songs. He showed her the world beyond the shrine walls — cities, music, dreams.

They were two souls dancing on forbidden ground.

However, in Ijebu-Ode, tradition does not sleep.

One night, the elders summoned Moroun. The Ifá priest had cast the cowries. A sacrifice was demanded. Her freedom... or her lineage would be cursed.

“You are bound to the shrine, Morounkeji. You are the daughter of Ayé. Love is not your path. Especially not with an outsider.”

She begged. She wept. But the shadows of tradition are heavy.

Meanwhile, Dare, unaware of the full weight of her burden, planned to propose. He had fallen — hard. He believed their love could break every barrier.

Until the night he followed her to the shrine.

There, he saw her in full regalia, eyes distant, spirit broken. The chants filled the air. The drums beat like warnings. He called out to her.

“Moroun… choose me. Just me. Not them. Not the shrine. Just us.”

Tears rolled down her cheeks. The winds howled.

And then she ran.

She ran to him, wrapped in white cloth and old expectations. She chose love — and the world broke open.

The shrine shook. The gods were silent. The elders raged.

But nothing happened.

The curse never came.

It was then that the oldest priest stepped forward and spoke:

“Perhaps the shadows of tradition are not here to chain us… but to test the strength of our hearts.”

Years later, Dare and Moroun opened an art and culture center in Abeokuta called Ẹ̀rín-Ifẹ̀, where young people could learn the beauty of culture — without fear, without pressure, without shadows.

And on their wedding day, Moroun wore beads of her ancestors… and the smile of a woman who dared to love.