Everyone knew Changó had lots of girlfriends. On street corners tongues wagged about how he trapped sad, earless Obba. Then there was the story of flirtatious Oshún. But the same tongues got tied at the thought of Madame Lightning, the same one who made even Changó reel back when she got jealous. And it was all about her becoming a different person. A woman of a great temper who was now the mere shadow of the Drummer. For her he kept the hardest chores as well as the most furious hours of love.
One day Changó arrived in a hurry, sweating.
“What’s up with you?”
“It’s Ogún again. He’s got a new gang and is coming over. Wait ‘til he gets here. He’ll know all about it.”
“Hey, listen to me. I can help you. I…”
But Changó interrupted her angrily.
“Don’t say nothin’! Hey! Me letting a woman help me! Come on! Go and do your things. I’ll handle this.”
“Eh? You dare to…? How stupid can you get? Listen to me know-all…Don’t come looking for me to help you. Go! And get totaled by Ogún!”
He left, all set to fight against the world, to fight against Ogún. But on that day Ogún was really mad. He could not forgive the Drummer for having taken away what he loved most: Oyá. Precisely Oyá. He had invested all the power in the world in his weapons. All the vitality of the earth was in his arms. The fire lent its energetic glint to his eyes. He was alone but seemed like many men gathered into one. No more, no less! A few blows by the Blacksmith and Changó was down and almost out. He backed off. Ogún pressed the attack.“Open up! Open up quick! Oyá—!”
The door to his salvation opened and the Lightning welcomed him with a smile, satisfied because she knew she’d been right!
“Alright, alright. Help me,” panted Changó.
“Uh huh! But I don’t know how because you don’t look like you can keep up the fight much longer.”
A few hours were to pass by. Meanwhile, Ogún was waiting on the outside, controlling his fury. Suddenly, Oyá’s voice came from the house, across the clearing, and surprised the blacksmith.
“Okay, Ogún! I’m coming out and I don’t want you by my door! Go away or else I’ll get really mad! This war is over today. You can carry on tomorrow.”
“I’ll bet that’s bull!” thought Ogún, “you’re giving me that so I’ll clear the way for the coward to skip.”
Ogún hid out of sight. After a while he saw a skirt striped like a serpent, a multi-colored blouse and a pair of braids coming from beneath a wide-brimmed straw hat; and a coquettish hat it was too. The skirt flew on top of a white horse, waiting outside, and took off at a gallop.
“It was true,” mused Ogún.
“But if Oyá has left, then Changó is in there. So, I’ll go get him.”
He barreled forward, machete in hand, ready to hack the drummer to bits.”
He rammed open the door and…Hell’s Bells…! It couldn’t be…! How come…?
There was the Lightning, standing in the middle of the room, laughing her challenge of a laugh.
“Fooled you, Fooled you! It was Changó in my clothes, and my braids. He was the one who took off on the white horse. The fight is over for today. You’ll have to catch him some other time.”
And Ogún left, a dog with his tail between his legs. He had been fooled nicely by a brave woman, the Lightning, that twister of a sister, Oyá Sansa.