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What happens when a billionaire meets a
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barefoot woman talking to a goat and
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falls in love? Sounds like the start of
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a Nollywood romcom, right? WG.
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This is an African folktale with a twist
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so wild it makes Cinderella look like a
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boring tax report. Today we're diving
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and mind-blowing story of how a
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mysterious village woman who everyone
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thought had lost her. Marbles captured
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the heart of a billionaire. And no, it
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wasn't because of her fashion sense.
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Spoiler. She wore mismatched slippers.
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Welcome back to Whisper Tales, the only
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place where African wisdom slaps harder
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than your auntie's Sunday stew.
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Today, we're diving deep into a story.
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So spicy, even Jolof Rice would sweat.
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Grab your chin because here comes the
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mad woman. Wasn't always mad. She was
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once the pride of her people before she
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was known as the woman who dances with
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shadows. She was a day's witch in Igbo
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means daughter of a king. And while she
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wasn't royalty by blood, she sure
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carried herself like one. She wasn't
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just books smart, she was spirit smart.
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At only 12, she could interpret dreams
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better than the village diver. At 15,
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she beat grown men in debate at the
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village square. Elder said that girl's
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tongue is dipped in fire and honey. She
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had eyes that saw beyond the physical
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and a voice that could silence thunder.
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When the rain refused to fall, she would
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hum by the river and the clouds would
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bow literally. She was the kind of girl
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people would say she's going far. Even
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though she never owned shoes, her future
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was brighter than a full moon in dry
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season. But as you know in African
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tales, when someone shines too brightly,
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darkness gets jealous.
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Then it happened, the tragedy. No one
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really knows what it was. Some say she
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went into the forest to find healing
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herbs for her sick mother and
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encountered a dark force. Others
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whisper, "She found a forbidden shrine,
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one that hadn't been touched since the
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days when humans and spirits still drank
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palm wine together. All we know is she
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went in hole and came out different. She
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walked back into the village barefoot,
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Eyes wild with visions no one else could
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see. She began talking to trees. She
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laughed at thunder. She whispered to
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stones. And instead of avoiding the mad
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woman, animals followed her like she was
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their queen. Naturally, the villagers
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did what villagers often do best. They
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judged what they couldn't understand.
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They called her naggua problem. They
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avoided her like a bad omen. Children
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were told if you don't behave that mad
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woman will take your name to the
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spirits. But what they saw as madness
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was simply her awakening.
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She hadn't lost her mind. She had found
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her purpose. The ancestors had chosen
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her. But as with all chosen ones, the
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path was lonely. And that loneliness,
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that rejection, that's what made her
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more powerful than anyone realized.
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She wasn't just a character in their
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village. She was a symbol of everything
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they feared and secretly admired. A
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woman who didn't beg to be understood.
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And that that is the woman who would one
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day meet a billionaire and change both
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their destinies forever.
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The billionaire came to the village in
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disguise, but not on purpose. Now
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A private jet slices through the African
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sky like a blade of pride gleaming.
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Luxurious, louder than a chief's wedding
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announcement. Inside one man, one
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mission and a phone that hadn't stopped
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buzzing since Logos. His name Obina
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Nuango net worth enough to make Forb
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stop printing and just frame his face
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status. Nigeria's youngest billionaire
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tech tycoon and CEO of a digital empire
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called Zenex. But behind the designer
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glasses and billionaire smile, Obina was
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running not from the police, not from
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poverty, but from something far worse,
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His riches had grown, but his soul had
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shrunk. He'd just been betrayed by his
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most trusted partner. His company was
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under federal investigation. And worst
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of all, his fianceé had called off the
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wedding and run away with his personal
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chef. And to be fair, the guy could make
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a mean jolaf rice in the chaos. Abena
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did what rich men sometimes do when
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their world collapses. He decided to
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disappear too, find peace somewhere
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remote, somewhere no one would recognize
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him. So he charted a course to a distant
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region near the edge of the forest
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reserves in eastern Nigeria placed known
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which loosely means children of the
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ancestors. But the ancestors had a plan
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of their own a storm out of nowhere. The
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The wind screamed like a masquerade in
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heat. His jet spiraled and crashlanded
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like a wounded bird in the middle of
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nowhere. No entourage, no assistant, no
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Wi-Fi, just him alone, surrounded by
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nothing but bush sounds and an ominous
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silence. Obanas stumbled through the
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dense trees. His designer suit now
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tattered like old Anara. His imported
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Italian shoes, swallowed by the mud, his
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Rolex gone, probably eaten by a snake
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who now tells time. He was no longer a
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billionaire. He was just a lost man with
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an identity crisis. He wandered for
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hours, dehydrated and desperate, until
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he collapsed near a small clearing by a
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river. His lips were cracked, his phone
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was dead, and his hope. Unlife support,
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but guess who found him? Not a search
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team, not the military, not even a
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curious monkey. It was her, the mad
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woman a days. She appeared like smoke
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silent barefoot draped in tattered
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layers of cloth and cowies.
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Her eyes wild and wise, she carried a
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calabash on her head and a wooden staff
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in her hand. Her hair was tangled, but
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somehow majestic Oena looked up
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delirious and mumbled, "Help me!" And
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what did she do? She stared at him,
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squatted, touched his forehead, and
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"You've fallen from the sky, but not for
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the reason you think." She didn't
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scream. She didn't call for help. She
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just turned and walked away, confused
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and half dead. He watched as she
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vanished into the trees, but something
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told him, "Follow her." And so he did,
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stumbling, crawling, bleeding from his
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ego. He followed the woman everyone had
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written off. Because in that moment,
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despite her rags and reputation, she was
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the only one who looked like she knew
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where she was going. And that's how the
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richest man in Lagos met the most
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misunderstood woman in Umon in a
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boardroom, not in a gala, but in the
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middle of nowhere, where money couldn't
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save him, and madness just might.
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She saved him without asking for
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anything. Not money, not even meat pie.
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She gave him shelter herbs for his
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and wisdom that's smacked harder than
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African pepper soup. The one who is lost
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is only waiting to be seen, she said.
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Translation: Bro, fix your soul first.
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Your money can wait. She predicted his
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future. And she was right. She looked
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him dead in the eyes. The same eyes that
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probably cost $5 a surgery and said,
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"You will lose everything before you
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find what truly matters. Guess what?"
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Her words came true faster than village
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gossip spreads. His company gone. His
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friends ghosted, but he found something
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he didn't know he needed. She was tested
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by the spirits and passed that night.
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Under the biobab tree, the wind stopped,
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the air cracked, and a voice asked her,
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"Would you trade his life for riches?"
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her answer. "No man's coin can replace a
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soul." Boom! Instant chills. The spirits
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blessed her that night. tan. The
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billionaire saw it all. Let's just say
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after that moment, Gucci boy stopped
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looking for his pilot and started
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looking for her hand. He proposed, but
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she said, "No, wait, what?" Yep. She
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turned him down. Your heart still
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belongs to the world, she said. "Come
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back when it belongs to yourself."
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"That's not rejection. That's spiritual
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character development with extra sauce."
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He stayed and lived like a villager. He
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fetched water. He swept huts. He wore
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rapper and learned to pound yam. The
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villagers thought he was under a spell,
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but really he was under transformation.
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Her madness was a gift of sight. Turns
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out she wasn't mad at all, just tuned
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into a different frequency. The herbs
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she talked to real healing power. The
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goat she spoke to, guardian spirit. The
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villagers finally realized what they
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lost and bowed before her wisdom. This
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time she said yes with a condition. If
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you marry me, you marry my path, she
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said. Not just my beauty, he agreed. And
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together they built a healing sanctuary
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in the village. Half clinic, half
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shrine, full vibes. They disappeared
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after their wedding just like that. No
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Instagram, no press conference, just
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whispers in the wind. Some say they
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ascended to the spirit world.
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Others say they still walk among us
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guiding lost souls in forests of
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confusion. But one thing's certain, love
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in African tales isn't about riches eats
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about recognizing the soul beneath the
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madness. You if that story didn't give
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you goosebumps wrapped in kente cloth,
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I don't know what will. Now do me a
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favor. Like this video if you believe
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love comes in the most unexpected
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Subscribe if you want more bold African
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folk tales that flip your reality upside
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down and drop a comment below. Would you
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have married the mad woman or run faster
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than a hyena on market day? This is
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Whisper Root Tales where we don't just
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tell stories, we serve justice with
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Jolaf. Until next time, stay wise, stay
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wild, and remember, not all madness is
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madness. Sometimes it's divine clarity
