The Lost City Beneath the Sea: A Nigerian Legend

It was a night like no other. The moon hung low over the Atlantic, casting silver streaks across the surface of the water. The soft roar of the ocean filled the air, as did the whisper of an ancient tale—a tale of a lost city beneath the sea. In the small fishing village of Ilashe, old men and women often gathered by the shore, recounting stories passed down for generations, tales that danced between myth and history.

Among those tales was the legend of Osalata, a thriving kingdom that once stood where the ocean now stretches endlessly. It was a city of splendor, a place where fishermen brought in bountiful catches, traders from across the Sahara exchanged precious goods, and the people lived in harmony with the sea. But Osalata was not just any city—it was a city blessed by Olokun, the god of the ocean and wealth, whose favor brought prosperity to all who dwelled there.

A City of Prosperity and Pride

Osalata was ruled by Oba Ekundayo, a king known for his wisdom and fairness. His palace was the heart of the city, a structure made of coral stone that gleamed in the sunlight, its walls adorned with carvings of sea creatures and the symbols of Olokun. Ekundayo ruled with the understanding that the sea gave life to Osalata, and thus the people must honor it. Festivals were held every year in honor of Olokun, and the people offered gifts to the sea: the finest woven cloth, gold, and bronze, all cast into the waters to show their gratitude.

But as the years passed, the people of Osalata grew complacent. The wealth of the city swelled, and the people began to take their fortunes for granted. The sacred festivals became extravagant displays of vanity, with less attention paid to the gods and more to their own riches. The fishermen, once humble men who understood the delicate balance between man and nature, began to fish beyond what the sea could provide. The traders haggled ruthlessly, and the city buzzed with greed.

One day, during the annual Festival of Olokun, the offerings made to the sea were few and unimpressive. The king’s advisors warned him that Olokun must not be angered, but Oba Ekundayo brushed them off. He had grown old and weary, his once wise heart now clouded by pride. “Olokun has blessed us for years,” he said, “What need do we have to fear the sea?”

The Warning

That night, as the city celebrated its wealth with lavish feasts and music, a storm rolled in. The sky darkened, and thunder cracked overhead. The waves crashed harder against the shore than anyone had ever seen, but still, the people of Osalata danced and feasted. No one noticed the stranger who walked among them, dressed in a cloak of seaweed, his eyes dark and deep as the ocean itself.

He approached the king’s palace and, in a voice that echoed like waves breaking on rocks, said, “Oba Ekundayo, Olokun has been patient, but the sea grows tired of your arrogance. Return to your roots. Honor the ocean, or the sea will take back what is hers.”

The king laughed, thinking it to be the jest of a madman. “The sea? The sea owes me for what I have built!” He waved the stranger away.

The man’s eyes narrowed, and he spoke once more, his voice now as cold as the ocean’s depths. “The sea is coming. You cannot stop it.”

Then, just as suddenly as he appeared, the stranger vanished into the mist.

The Fall of Osalata

At dawn, the city awoke to an eerie calm. The ocean, which had roared so violently the night before, now lay silent. There was no wind, no sound of birds, and the water, normally filled with the songs of fishermen and the clatter of traders, was unnervingly still. Oba Ekundayo ordered his people to continue their work, dismissing the events of the night as nothing more than a passing storm.

But by midday, the sky began to darken again, and the sea began to rise. Read more The Lost City Beneath the Sea