Alas, faithless Ogunremi, for impatient with jealousy and greed had decided to hasten her fortune by committing money ritual.

She sought out a wealthy friend who told her the price in exchange for the ill-fated fortune. She would sacrifice her unborn child, a mother would hesitate before she would kill her child for money, but not Ogunremi, her love for wealth suppresses that for her unborn child, what is the need for the child if there is no money to take care of it, after all I can always have another, money is important she resolved.

“That’s horrible’’ Babybaby gasped, her saucer sized eyes shone with the light from the fire, "what a terrible woman.’’

“I’ll say there’s a little of Ogunremi in our mothers too.’’ Binta muttered bitterly. Her first word since they left Lagos.

“Hush children’’ Shango said and continued his story.

“A few months later, she delivered a most beautiful child, strong limbed and healthy; skin the color of clay. Every woman would fall in love with Ogun’s gift but not hard hearted Ogunremi. She took the baby to the evil shrine and was told to cast it into a great fire as offering for the daemon deity. As she moved towards the fire, she glanced down at the baby and was shocked at what she saw.

The baby glared back at her with wide eyes filled with fear and intelligence, it's expression carried a message of warning against the consequence of her action, pleading with her to spare it the agony of being burned, so it can forever retain its beauty, in return, it promised to make her wealthy beyond which no man had ever possessed.

For a moment her steps faltered as a sliver of pity wormed into her heart for the beautiful child but the salivating daemon from within the flame crooned

promises of instant wealth and abundance her way.

With a cry, she threw the baby into the fire and the soul of the child of fortune fled back to Ogun’s realm, sent back with fire and pain by the mortal it was sent to help.

Soon Ogunremi became so wealthy and influential that she was given a chieftaincy title, she finally had the respect she had always crave for. She scorned poor Ogunniyi and mocked him with his uselessness every chance she had, with the issue of wealth settled she was now ready to have more children.

Back at Ogun’s realm, the child of fortune; sat weeping at the gate to his brass palace disfigured by the daemon fire for neither the blemished nor the marred dare enter the smith god’s household.

It’s weeping drew forth the servants of the Orisha who recognized it for who it was, fled back to their lord to report the grave news. Ogun came running at this and roared with rage at the destructive hands of mortals, he sat weeping with the child, begging it to come into his gates but the child refused but instead begged for permission and the power to return and serve retribution to the one who had wronged it so.

A few months later, illustrious Ogunremi was in labor, well-wishers and drummers stands ready at her door to celebrate with her but the gatherings soon turn into commotion as the mid-wives fled her hut with fright. "the world has ended, we have never seen such calamity as the likes of this," they wailed as they fled, their heels touching the back of their heads. Some curious folk went in to see what was amiss then took flight screeching as if possessed by Ewele the weeping daemon.

The crowd of well-wishers soon dispersed in fear to avoid sharing in Ogun’s wrath until only Ogunniyi was left alone. For a while, he stood apprehensively by the door. Finally summoning courage, he went in to his wife’s hut and saw Ogunremi stone dead, her face scrunched in everlasting agony.

By her side was her baby, still covered with her blood, he was shocked when he saw that it was alive. He found a cloth to clean it and notice the dark scars marring its body and in its tiny fist, it held Ogunremi’s still beating heart.

He forced the babe’s fist open to remove the gory trophy, as the child looked up at him, with grave wisdom in its eyes; Ogunmola’s tender heart was touched as he saw past the child’s ugliness.

‘’Child of fortune I shall name you,’’ he crooned softly, ‘’Ogun gave you to me and I shall cherish you,’’ he said as he left his late wife’s hut with his baby. Ogunniyi cared for the child with so much love, it decided to stay with him, blessing his household with abundant wealth, peace and prosperity.

A subdued silence enveloped the fireplace after Shango’s story, interrupted by the occasional chirping of the night crickets.

“That does not count as a bedtime story,’’ Babybaby finally found her voice.

“It is child,’’ the thunder god answered.

“No it’s not’’ Babybaby insisted quite stubbornly. “it’s supposed to be a nice story with happy ending, all bedtime fairytales are, like the ones Amaka used to read to me, this is simply stupid.’’

“Babybaby hush it’’ Orchid started, fearing the frown on Shango’s face.

“What is a fairytale,’’ he asked instead.

“Well it’s the best story there is, a prince falls in love with a princess, a bad witch not happy with the arrangement pokes nose into the matter, the prince cuts her great big nose with his shiny sword, rides away with his love and everybody lives happily ever after.” Babybaby concluded with an air of wisdom.

“Such silly tale as this brings up silly minded children child, in our own culture, bedtime stories and folklore teaches lessons and bared the realities of life to our children, in real life not all princes succeeds in cutting off their witches nose, some ends up eaten by the witch or betrayed by their supposed princesses.’’ Shango pronounced gravely.

“That’s not true’’ Babybaby cried, the princes in fairytales are always brave, Amaka says…

“Well Amaka is dead now, fairytale did not prepare her for someone like Mugabe or she wouldn’t have worked for him in the first place.’’ Shango snapped finally losing his infinite patience.

Babybaby was silent, her lower lip quavering, everybody stiffened waiting for the dam to break. The thunder god sighed and awkwardly patted her on the head like she was a dangerous beast.

“I spoke rashly child, forgive me, fairytale is not silly, neither is folklore for both teaches its own lesson, the hours draw near witching hour, it’s not time for a baby to be up.’’

“I’m not a baby,’’ Babybaby protested between sniffs and yawns. “Tell me another story please a mixture of fairytale and folklore.’’

“Enough stories for today darling, Orchid cooed as she pried her away from Shango, ‘’he will tell you more tomorrow, on the positive side, we don’t wake for drills anymore so you have all day.’’

Soon they all huddled together to sleep, the day event must have tolled on them because they were soon snoring.