The Trail of the Panther

Ehizokie was the last of the trainees, so every eye focused on her. As soon as she laid both hands on the machete, she made a complete turn, swinging her swords in a powerful surge that seemed to split the air and sliced the melon in two. She swung again and sliced the halves before they touched the ground. Her splendid swordsmanship drew the awe and applause of the other women. Esosa saw the demonstration but was not impressed. It was easy to slice melons, they were not human; slicing the head off of a man would be different. “Melons are easy to practice,” said Esosa, “But taking a man’s head off his body with your sword and holding it up for the entire village to see requires a level of intensity that every Ahosi must have to be successful. In battle, he will try to kill you and bring back the head of an Ahosi warrior as a trophy for his village. You must not be his trophy, but he must be yours,” shouted Esosa. As the women stared at her, the gate of the palace swung open and two dozen men, all bound by the hands with thick vines and linked together with large poles laid across their shoulders and lashed to their necks. They had the look of death on their faces, sunken eyes slumped shoulders and broken spirits. The men were captive Yoruba warriors who were captured for the purpose of sacrifice or sale to slave traders. These were designated as human manikins for the training of the warrior wives. “Each of these men is a Yoruba warrior. Each of them had a spear or a blade like the one you see here. Each one of them went into battle to kill you and to assault our king. Today, they will feel the power of an Ahosi Warrior,” she said. The men were forced to their knees by the women warriors who guarded them with blank faces and deliberate mechanical actions. As Esosa paraded in front of them, she presented a frightening image of savage, unrestrained power that was fearless and dangerous. “At the snap of a finger or the clap of a hand, you must be prepared to eliminate an enemy or sacrifice yourself if it pleases the king. Our ancestors are watching us. They expect us to perform honorably and will gladly welcome us when we come to meet them if we die a good death at the king’s command. You must not hesitate!” she shouted! Suddenly she raised her sword and sliced off the head of one of the Yoruba men. It rolled in the dust and left a gory trail as blood gushed from the place where it was once connected. Esosa picked up the head and held it in front of her as she walked down the line of trainees. Some fought the urge to puke, others were shaken by the specter of the dust-covered head that a few moments earlier had been bowed before them full of life. Although they were horrified at the demonstration, not a single woman dared show emotion or even grimace at what she had seen. Esosa brought the head before Ehizokie and held it in front of her face and then brought her face within touching distance and said, “This is not a melon. This was a man!” She put the big swords in Ehizokie’s hands. Without hesitation or any emotion, she sliced off the heads of two of the men in powerful swings that sent their heads rolling in the dust. She stared fearlessly at Esosa as she slid her finger across the blade and smeared the blood on her fingertips. She never took her eyes off Esosa as she licked the blood from her fingers and returned to her place in line. Esosa was impressed. More than that, this was a woman she had to have.