Izon version of the Story of Creation

Izon version of the The Story of Creation: Teme-owei, Izon, and Egbesu 

By Prince Agbedeyi O. D.

In the time before time, when the rivers had no names and the skies were yet unborn, there was only Teme-owei, the Almighty God—eternal, unseen, and all-powerful. From the great stillness, Teme-owei spoke, and with His breath, He shaped the heavens, the waters, and the land.

He carved the creeks with His fingers, spread the mangroves like a mat, and called light into being. All things obeyed His will. Yet amidst His wondrous creation, there was no one to speak His name, to know His thoughts, or to walk with Him in the garden of the world.

So, from the sacred earth mixed with the breath of the divine, Teme-owei fashioned the first man and named him Izon. 

He was strong, upright, and wise—crafted in the image of purpose. Teme-owei placed him at the center of the world, where the rivers meet the sea, and said, “You shall be the beginning of nations. Through you, the world shall know my presence.”

But the world was vast, and darkness still lingered in places unknown. To guard Izon and guide him in battle and strength, Teme-owei summoned a powerful spirit from His right hand. This spirit was named Egbsu, the god of war and guardian of the just. Fierce and mighty, Egbesu walked beside Izon, whispering courage into his heart and teaching him the ways of defense and discipline.

Together, Izon and Egbesu journeyed across the land, naming rivers, taming beasts, and establishing the first sacred laws. Where Izon brought wisdom and harmony, Egbesu brought strength and protection.

And so began the lineage of the Izon people—born of divine breath, guided by strength, and blessed by the Almighty Teme-owei.

The Story of Creation (Part II): The Trials of Izon and the Call to Egbesu 

As Izon walked the earth, he was filled with wonder at the beauty of creation. The birds sang in the trees, and the waters answered with their flowing song. Yet, not all was peaceful. From the edges of the world, beyond the lands where Teme-owei’s light reached, rose dark spirits, jealous of Izon’s favor. They were remnants of the old void—beings of chaos and envy who hated the balance Teme-owei had set.

The greatest among them was Owei-Kuro, the dark wind, who gathered a host of spirits and said, “We shall rise and tear down the work of the Almighty. We shall silence the name of Izon.” And so, the first war came upon the world.

One night, as Izon slept beneath a great Iroko tree, he dreamt of fire and shadow consuming his homeland. He awoke to the scent of burning trees and the cries of animals fleeing. The enemy had come.

Remembering the words of Teme-owei, Izon knelt and struck the earth with his hand. “Egbesu, spirit of war, guardian of my path, arise!” he cried.

From the thunderclouds above and the roots below, Egbesu appeared, clothed in lightning and armored in iron scales. His voice shook the hills: “I am Egbesu, born of flame and silence, come to defend the chosen of the Almighty!”

With a mighty cry, Egbesu swept across the battlefield, scattering the dark spirits with his spear of light. Izon, filled with divine courage, took up a blade fashioned from riverstone and fought beside his guardian. Together, man and spirit turned the tide of battle. Owei-Kuro was cast into the deep, sealed by Egbesu’s chain of thunder.

When the land was quiet again, Teme-owei spoke from the heavens:

“You have proven yourself, Izon. Through your trials, you have earned the right to rule the land and guide your people. Egbesu shall forever walk with you and your descendants, in times of peace and war.”

And from that day forth, the Izon people became a sacred nation, warriors of spirit, walkers of wisdom, and bearers of divine favor.

The Story of Creation (Part III): The Founding of Clans and the First Sacred City

After the great battle, the earth rested. The rivers flowed gently, the skies cleared, and the beasts of the land came near Izon, no longer afraid. Teme-owei looked down with favor, and Egbesu stood watchful at the edge of the world, ever ready to defend the balance.

In the quiet days that followed, Teme-owei came to Izon in a vision, saying:

“You are not only the first of men, but the father of a people. From you shall spring nations. You must now divide the land and give names to your children, that each may carry a portion of your strength, your wisdom, and your covenant with Me.”

So Izon took a staff of driftwood and marked the lands with his footsteps. To each place he named, he assigned a purpose and a lineage. He called forth his sons and daughters—born not only of blood, but of spirit—and said:

• You, Ama, shall dwell by the sea and master the tides.

• You, Gbaran, shall live in the heart of the forest and guard the trees.

• You, Egbema, take the boundary lands and become a shield to the people.

• You, Mein, inherit the rivers and speak with the fish and the flood.

• You, Kolokuma, shall be keeper of the sacred tongue and songs of the ancestors.”

Each took their place and began to build. Under Izon’s guidance, the clans grew. But Izon himself built the first sacred city at the meeting point of the great rivers. There, he raised a shrine of stone and wood—a house not of gold, but of honor—where the name of Teme-owei would be spoken and Egbesu would be remembered with drums and fire.

The city was called Orubobou, the “Center of the Beginning.” It was there that the clans would gather during sacred moons, bringing offerings of fish, yam, and praise. The priests of Teme-owei kept the sacred fire, and the warriors of Egbesu guarded the city’s gates with spears etched in ancient runes.

And so it was that the Izon people became many, but never divided. Though scattered across forests, rivers, and coasts, they shared one origin, one law, and one covenant—bound by the breath of Teme-owei and the protection of Egbesu.

The Story of Creation (Part IV): The Son Who Fell into Pride

Among the many sons of Izon, there was one named Perebofa, whose name meant “He who rises like the tide.” He was strong, swift, and wise in battle. Of all Izon’s children, Perebofa was the most favored by the warriors, and his fame spread across the rivers and forests.

He was given stewardship of the western lands, a region of deep mangrove swamps, hidden fish traps, and fertile delta soil. There, he built strong houses, gathered loyal men, and carved symbols of victory upon his walls.

But as the seasons passed, Perebofa’s heart grew swollen with pride. He began to think himself equal to his father Izon, even greater. He no longer brought tribute to the sacred city of Orubobou. He refused to bow before the shrine of Teme-owei, and he mocked the priests who kept the sacred fire.

“Why should I serve the old ways?” he boasted. “Was it not my arm that won battles? Was it not my name that the people sing?”

He even dared to say, “Egbesu walks with me now—not with the one who kneels in dust and chants old words.”

The elders wept, for they knew that pride was the shadow that follows greatness, and that a curse walks close behind a son who forgets the voice of the Almighty.

One night, the wind turned cold, and the sky grew dark though no clouds were seen. From the sacred shrine of Orubobou, the flames of Teme-owei dimmed. The drums stopped. The priests fell silent.

Then came a thunder like the roar of ten rivers.

Egbesu descended, not with joy, but in judgment—his eyes burning like red iron, his spear dragging thunder across the sky. He went to the house of Perebofa and struck the ground before him.

“You have called me, but not in truth. You seek my strength, but you scorn my spirit. You claim the name of a god, but speak like a fallen man.”

Perebofa trembled, yet his pride still clung to him. “Am I not your chosen? Did I not defend the land?”

But Egbesu answered:

“You defend what you do not honor. You build where you do not worship. You wear the cloak of power, but forget the source. I am not a sword to be wielded—I am the flame that tests the heart.”

And with that, Egbesu turned away and struck the earth. The rivers around Perebofa’s land rose in anger. His walls sank into the mud, and his warriors scattered like birds before a storm. He was left with only his name and his shame.

In time, Perebofa journeyed to Orubobou barefoot, clothed in sackcloth. There he knelt before the shrine of Teme-owei and said:

“I am but dust. Forgive me, Father of All.”

And Egbesu, watching from the shadows, said to the priests:

“Now he remembers. Let him rise again—not in pride, but in truth.”

The Story of Creation (Part V): The Festival of Egbsu

After the fall and restoration of Perebofa, a great council was called in Orubobou. All the clans of the Izon people—Ama, Mein, Gbaran, Egbema, and others—sent their elders and warriors to gather at the sacred city. Izon, now aged but still revered, sat beneath the iroko tree with Egbesu standing at his right.

There, the priests spoke to the people:

“Let the memory of pride be a lesson. Let the fire of Egbesu not burn again in wrath. Let us honor the spirit who defends us, so that we may never forget the cost of arrogance.”

And so, at the decree of Teme-owei and with Egbesu’s approval, the Festival of Egbesu was established—a sacred rite held every twelve moons, during the season when the rivers are calm and the skies are open.

The Rituals of the Festival

1. The Drum of Awakening

At dawn, the priests beat the ancient war drum of Egbesu. Its sound echoes across the creeks and forests, calling all warriors and elders to gather. It is said that if the drum is not answered, Egbsu will turn his face from the people.

2. The Dance of Spears

Young men and women perform a sacred war dance, carrying spears and painted shields. But before they dance, they must wash in the river and confess any pride or wrongdoing. This dance is not just for show—it is a vow that strength must always be bound to service and discipline.

3. The Trial of the Flame

A sacred flame is lit in the shrine of Egbesu. Warriors must pass their hands above it without trembling—a test of spiritual readiness. Only those found worthy are allowed to carry Egbsu’s symbol into the next season.

4. The Three Offerings

• Fish, from the river—symbol of sustenance

• Palm oil, from the earth—symbol of blessing

• Blood of a cock, given not in violence but as a reminder that protection must sometimes come at a cost.

These are laid before the altar, and the priests call upon Egbsu, saying:

“Egbesu, spirit of justice and war, watcher of the Izon people, accept these offerings. May your fire burn in our hearts—not in anger, but in remembrance.”

5. The Song of Balance

At night, the elders chant the Song of Balance, an ancient hymn first taught by Izon himself. It tells of his creation, the rise of his clans, the fall of Perebofa, and the mercy of Egbesu.

A Lasting Legacy

From that time until now, the Festival of Egbesu has been kept, passed from father to son, mother to daughter. It is a time of reflection, strength, and unity. And whenever a new warrior is chosen or a clan faces danger, they call not just for weapons, but for the spirit of Egbesu to walk among them.

And in the deep silence of the forest, when the drums beat just right and the people are gathered in truth, it is said you can feel a wind stir—and know that Egbesu is near.

The Story of Creation (Part VI): The Sacred Teachings of Izon

As the moons passed and the clans grew strong, Izon—now gray-haired and quiet—knew that his time in the world was coming to an end. He had walked the length of the rivers, planted wisdom in the hearts of his children, and seen the rise and fall of pride.

One morning, he stood before the sacred shrine in Orubobou and called the priests, the elders, and the first sons of every clan. He sat on a stone carved by Daru, the shaper, and spoke with the voice of one who had spoken often with Teme-owei.

These words became the Teachings of the First Man, passed down through generations as sacred law and guidance.

The Seven Teachings of Izon

1. “Remember your breath, for it came from Teme-owei.”

Never forget that life is a gift. Every breath is borrowed from the Almighty, and it must be returned with purpose. Live with reverence, for you carry divine breath.

2. “Walk with strength, but kneel with humility.”

Strength is a tool, not a crown. Use it to build, to protect, and to serve—not to boast. Even the warrior must bow before truth.

3. “Honor Egbesu, the blade that guards the path.”

Do not call on Egbesu lightly. He is not a servant, but a flame. He protects the just, but he will consume the arrogant. His fire is not for pride, but for justice.

4. “Let the river teach you.”

Be like the river—flowing but strong, patient but deep. The river does not shout, yet it shapes the earth. Listen more than you speak.

5. “What is given must return.”

Give honor to your ancestors, and they will guide you. Respect the land, and it will feed you. Dishonor the gods, and the balance will break.

6. “Speak truth, even if it shakes the sky.”

A nation that fears truth is already broken. Speak with courage, live without deceit. Let your words carry the weight of your soul.

7. “You are never alone.”

You walk with the memory of your fathers, the spirit of Egbesu, and the eye of Teme-owei. In the forest, by the river, in times of silence—you are watched, loved, and tested.

After speaking these words, Izon rose slowly, turned toward the river, and walked into the morning mist. It is said he vanished into the sacred waters, not dead, but taken up by Teme-owei to rest among the stars.

The people mourned, but they did not despair—for they had been left with his teachings, his legacy, and the eternal presence of Egbesu.

To this day, these seven teachings are spoken at every gathering of chiefs, at every naming of a child, and before every battle.

The Story of Creation (Part VII): Tamuno-Ibifuro, the Flamebearer of Egbesu 

Many moons after Izon walked into the sacred waters, the clans of his children flourished. They built great canoe cities, carved drums that spoke across rivers, and raised shrines in honor of Teme-owei and Egbesu. But as the people grew in number, so too did rivalry and pride.

Land disputes, broken marriage pacts, and insulted elders led to bitterness between the clans of Mein and Gbaran. Warriors sharpened spears. The drums of war began to beat—not in defense, but in anger. It was said that even Egbsu turned his face, for the people were not fighting to defend balance, but to satisfy wounded pride.

In the midst of this rising storm, a child was born in the humble fishing town of Okumbiri. His name was Tamuno-Ibifuro, meaning “God is peace.” From the day of his birth, strange signs followed him: the river would calm when he cried, and egrets circled his home at night.

As he grew, Tamuno-Ibifuro was taught the Seven Teachings of Izon by an old blind priest who claimed to have once heard the voice of Egbesu in a dream. At the age of twelve, he fasted by the riverside for seven days, and on the seventh night, Egbesu appeared to him—not as a warrior of fire, but as a quiet hunter clothed in moonlight.

“The fire that destroys can also light the way,” Egbesu said. “You shall not carry a sword, but a voice. Speak, and I will walk behind your words.”

From that day, Tamuno-Ibifuro became known as the Flamebearer—not for his violence, but for the passion and purity of his speech. He traveled between the warring clans, unarmed, with nothing but a staff carved from iroko wood.

Wherever he walked, he began each address with Izon’s first teaching:

“Remember your breath, for it came from Teme-owei.”

He called councils, not of chiefs alone, but of women, hunters, children, and priests. He reminded them of the Festival of Egbesu, of the fall of Perebofa, and of the sacred unity Izon forged.

When the war drums were about to sound, Tamuno-Ibifuro walked into the battlefield between the two angry armies, stood tall, and cried:

“If you raise your weapons against your brother, you raise them against yourself. You have forgotten the river. You have forgotten your breath.”

And then—lightning split the sky.

The ground shook. The spears of both sides shattered in their hands. And from the heavens came a low, rolling voice that said only one word:

“Balance.”

The people fell to their knees. The war was called off. Tamuno-Ibifuro led both clans to Orubobou, where they restored the ancient shrine and renewed the covenant of unity.

He lived a long life, never as a chief, but always as a guide. When he died, no grave was dug—for the river rose that night and carried his body away, just as it did for Izon.

From that time forward, every generation remembers Tamuno-Ibifuro, not only as a hero, but as proof that the fire of Egbesu can be wielded not just by warriors—but by peacemakers who hold truth, courage, and humility in equal measure.