Title: “The Flame Beneath the Baobab” The baobab tree in the heart of Oyo town had stood for generations—older than any warrior, wiser than any priest. It had seen kings rise and fall, and it bore silent witness to the destiny of Adebayo, the son of a blacksmith and a weaver. Adebayo was no prince, but he was born under a storm—the kind of storm the diviners called a mystery wind. It was said such children were marked for greatness or tragedy. In those years, the Oyo Empire was trembling. European traders had begun to whisper offers of guns for people, and the Atlantic was pulling away the youth of the kingdom, one chain at a time. Adebayo’s village was small but proud. His father forged tools and weapons with iron brought from the riverbeds, and his mother wove cloth dyed in indigo and fire. They taught him strength and patience. But he wanted more. He wanted to be heard at the Alaafin’s court, to change the way his people were being sold like livestock. At seventeen, Adebayo challenged the town chiefs. He stood beneath the baobab and spoke: “We trade away brothers for barrels of fire and call it power. But the gods gave us this land not to destroy each other—but to defend it.” The chiefs laughed. One even spat. But not everyone dismissed him. A group of youth, apprentices and outcasts, rallied behind him. They began to secretly guide villagers through forest trails, away from slavers. They called themselves “Omo Ina” — Children of Fire. The movement spread. Town to town. Song to drumbeat. Eventually, word reached the Alaafin himself. Instead of punishing Adebayo, he summoned him—and listened. Not just to the boy, but to the voices behind him. That year, a decree was issued banning internal slave raids in several provinces. It didn’t end everything, but it lit a spark. Adebayo would later be remembered not as a king, but as something deeper—a voice that echoed long after silence had settled. And beneath that same baobab tree, elders still tell his story. #documentary #history