Introduction :
A Dance of the Forests is a dramatic exploration of memory, responsibility, and the moral relationship between past, present, and future. Instead of presenting national independence as a simple triumph, the play challenges individuals and communities to confront the consequences of their actions across time. The living encounter the dead and the unborn, revealing that history is not something left behind but something continually shaping identity.
The following is a proposed alternative ending in which the characters move beyond fear and denial toward conscious renewal. The forest remains a place of judgment, but it also becomes a space of transformation where responsibility is accepted rather than avoided.
The Alternative Ending: The Trial of the Totem
The Setting:
The scene remains the same: a clearing in the forest, deep in the night of the Gathering of the Tribes. Aroni (the Lame One) and Forest Head (disguised as Obaneji) stand by as the forest dwellers begin the final dance. However, instead of the chaotic "Dance of the Half-Child," the atmosphere shifts into a cold, judicial silence.
The Shift in Action:
In the original text, Demoke saves the Half-Child but remains a haunted man. In this version, the Totem—the massive wood carving Demoke created by sacrilegiously carving the top of the Araba tree—begins to bleed.
Forest Head: "You carved a monument to your pride, Demoke. You reached for the sky by standing on the severed head of a god. Now, the wood speaks."
The Three Reckonings:
1. Adenebi’s Trial (The Corruption of the Word) Adenebi, the Council Orator, has spent the play denying his role in the bribery that led to the death of sixty people in an overloaded lorry. In this alternative ending, Aroni forces Adenebi to hold the "Book of the Dead." As he touches it, his voice physically leaves him. He tries to speak his usual flowery rhetoric, but only the sound of a crashing engine and the screams of the dying come out of his mouth.
Instead of being allowed to hide behind his suit and title, Adenebi is transformed. His clothes rot away, replaced by the tattered remains of the victims' clothing. He is forced to become the "Conductor of the Damned," tasked with leading the ghosts of the sixty victims back to the city to haunt the council chambers forever.
2. Rola’s Trial (The Madame Tortoise Paradox) Rola (the modern incarnation of the legendary seductress Madame Tortoise) is confronted by the "Dead Man," the Captain who was castrated and enslaved because of her whim centuries ago.
In this version, Rola does not just feel shame; she is granted a terrifying clarity. The Forest Head grants her the "Vision of the Mirror." She sees that her beauty is not a weapon she wields, but a cage built by the men she destroyed. The Dead Man approaches her, not to kill her, but to hand her his rusted sword.
The Dead Man: "The cycle breaks not when you die, but when you refuse to be the prize for which men kill."
Rola breaks the sword. By rejecting the role of the "Devourer of Men," she collapses the spiritual tether that links her to Madame Tortoise. She becomes the first character to achieve a "New Consciousness," standing naked of her past crimes.
3. Demoke’s Sacrifice (The Artist’s Blood) The climax focuses on Demoke, the carver. Eshuoro (the wayward spirit) demands Demoke’s life for the insult to the Araba tree. Ogun (Demoke’s patron god) steps in to defend him, leading to a celestial clash.
In this version, Demoke realizes that as long as the gods fight over him, humanity remains a pawn. He climbs his own Totem as it begins to burn with a spiritual fire.
Demoke: "If I carved this in blood, let it be quenched in mine. Not as a victim, but as a Master of the Craft."
Instead of falling and being caught by Ogun (as in the original), Demoke reaches the summit and pulls the "Half-Child" up with him. He doesn't just hand the child back to the Dead Woman; he breathes his own life-force into the child.
The Resolution: The Forest Reclaims the City:
The Half-Child, previously a symbol of a "doomed future" and a "stillborn generation," finally speaks. His voice is not a cry, but a song that harmonizes the discord of the forest.
The Forest Head watches as the spirits of the ancestors (the Dead Man and Dead Woman) dissolve into the soil. They are no longer "restless" because the living have finally acknowledged the debt.
Forest Head (Final Monologue): "The incense of the Gathering has cleared. You asked for your ancestors, and you found them in your own mirrors. The forest returns to the seed, and the city returns to the dust. But look—the Carver has left a mark that even the termites cannot eat."
The Final Image:
The sun rises, but it is a pale, green sun. Demoke is found at the base of the scorched Totem. He is alive, but his hands are now turned to wood—a permanent merging of the artist and his medium. Rola sits beside him, guarding the now-silent Half-Child, who has finally begun to grow. Adenebi is gone, wandering toward the city to tell a truth that will burn down the corrupt government.
The forest clearing grows unnaturally still after the restless spirits reveal themselves at the Gathering of the Tribes. The celebratory mood that once filled the space collapses into uneasy silence. No drums sound. No voices rise. Even the wind seems to hesitate among the trees.
The Dead Man and the Dead Woman remain present, not fading into shadow as expected. Their continued presence unsettles the living, who begin to understand that the past cannot be dismissed through ceremony alone. The boundary between worlds has not closed because truth has not yet been faced.
Demoke stands near the unfinished totem, staring at its incomplete form. The carving tools lie scattered at his feet. He does not reach for them. His hands hang motionless, as though he no longer trusts them to shape meaning.
For the first time, Demoke does not speak in defense of himself. Instead, he whispers:
“We have carved monuments to forget. Never to remember.”
His words are not addressed to anyone in particular, yet they seem to echo through the clearing. The people who had gathered for celebration shift uneasily. They had hoped for blessing, not confrontation.
Rola watches the Dead Woman from a distance. Her earlier confidence has vanished. She no longer attempts to command attention or control perception. The presence before her is no longer merely a spirit; it is a reflection of consequence. She steps forward slowly, each movement deliberate.
“I have lived as though tomorrow were a stranger,” she says quietly. “Now tomorrow stands before me.”
The Dead Woman does not speak. Yet her silence carries more meaning than accusation. It is not vengeance that defines her presence, but memory.
Adenebi, who once organized the gathering with pride, attempts to restore order. He calls for music, for ritual, for progress. But the forest does not respond. His voice loses strength. He begins to recognize that celebration without truth is hollow.
Aroni enters the clearing, moving with visible effort. Though his body is marked by limitation, his presence is undeniable. He surveys the gathering without judgment. He does not accuse the living. He simply waits.
Obaneji emerges from shadow, calm and watchful. He observes the unfinished totem, the silent spirits, and the uneasy crowd. When he speaks, his voice is neither harsh nor comforting.
“You asked to meet your ancestors,” he says. “But you did not ask to know them.”
The statement unsettles the gathering more deeply than any threat. To know the past is to inherit responsibility for it.
At the edge of the clearing appears the Half-Child. No longer suspended between existence and absence, the figure now stands uncertainly upon the ground. The child looks at the living not with accusation, but with expectation. The future has arrived—but it has not yet chosen whether to remain.
Demoke kneels before the unfinished carving. Slowly, he gathers his tools. The crowd watches, expecting him to complete the monument as originally intended. But instead of shaping a figure of triumph, he alters the form entirely.
He carves a human figure burdened yet upright, marked by struggle but not defeated. The figure’s face is neither joyful nor despairing; it is aware.
“This is not victory,” Demoke says. “It is endurance.”
Rola steps closer to the Dead Woman. This time she does not avert her gaze. She does not seek forgiveness. She simply acknowledges.
“I cannot return what was taken,” she says. “But I will not deny it.”
At these words, the Dead Woman’s form begins to soften. The tension surrounding her presence diminishes. Recognition, though incomplete, has begun.
Adenebi, overcome by the weight of realization, lowers his head. He confesses his failures—not through grand declarations, but through fragmented truth. He admits ambition without accountability, leadership without reflection, action without conscience.
As each confession is spoken, the forest subtly changes. The oppressive stillness gives way to faint movement. Leaves stir. Light begins to filter through dense branches that once blocked the sky.
Obaneji addresses the gathering once more.
“Freedom is not granted,” he says. “It is practiced.”
The meaning of the gathering shifts. It is no longer a celebration of independence but a confrontation with responsibility. The living understand that the past cannot be erased, but it can be acknowledged and transformed through choice.
The Half-Child approaches the newly carved figure and touches it gently. The gesture is fragile yet decisive. The future does not withdraw. It remains—but conditionally.
Aroni gestures toward a narrow path leading out of the clearing. It had been hidden before, obscured by shadow and confusion. Now it is visible, though not inviting. It represents continuation rather than resolution.
Demoke plants the completed carving firmly into the ground. He does not raise it as a monument of pride. Instead, it stands as a reminder: a record of awareness rather than achievement.
Rola turns to the gathering.
“We cannot inherit dignity,” she says. “We must create it.”
No applause follows. The people understand that the work of renewal cannot be performed through ceremony alone. It must be lived.
The restless spirits begin to withdraw—not forced away, but released. Their presence fades without violence. Memory remains, but agitation dissolves.
Adenebi removes the symbols of authority he once displayed proudly. He places them at the base of the carving, not as surrender, but as acknowledgment that leadership must answer to truth.
Obaneji steps back toward the forest’s shadow. He offers no blessing and no condemnation. His withdrawal signals neither approval nor rejection. It signifies autonomy. The living must choose without supervision.
The forest itself seems to breathe. Light deepens. Sound returns gradually: insects, wind, distant movement of branches. Life resumes—not as celebration, but as continuation.
Demoke stands silently before the path. He looks once more at the carving, then at the people, then at the forest. Finally, he sets down his tools beside the monument.
Creation will continue—but not without awareness.
He walks toward the open path.
Rola follows, not beside him, but independently. Adenebi follows after a pause. Others move slowly, uncertain yet willing.
The Half-Child walks among them.
No barrier rises. No voice commands. The forest does not close behind them. It remains open—not as a place of escape, but as a witness.
The clearing empties gradually. Only the carved figure remains at the center, rooted yet unfinished in meaning. It is neither warning nor promise. It is possibility.
As twilight settles, the forest returns to quiet balance. The spirits of the past rest. The future remains present. The living move forward—not purified, not absolved, but aware.
And for the first time, awareness itself becomes the beginning of renewal.
Why this Alternative Ending is Significant :
| Element | Purpose | Effect on Theme |
| Adenebi’s Transformation | Justice | Shows that political corruption cannot be "washed away" by a festival; it must be lived. |
| Rola’s Agency | Feminist Rebirth | Breaks the "eternal feminine" archetype of the seductress, allowing for female redemption. |
| The Half-Child’s Growth | Hope | Converts the Abiku (child born to die) into a symbol of a future that might actually survive. |
| Demoke’s Hybridity | Synthesis | Represents Soyinka's ideal of the artist: someone who is both a part of nature and a shaper of it. |
References :
Marak, Monush R. “Ecocritical Consciousness in Wole Soyinkaâ€TMS Play a Dance of the Forests.” Marak | International Journal of Research, 15 Feb. 2021, journals.pen2print.org/index.php/ijr/article/view/20421/19953. Accessed 22 Feb. 2026.
Soyinka, Wole. A Dance of the Forests. Oxford UP, 1963.
View of the Female Ghost Figure in Wole Soyinka’s Play a Dance of the Forests. al-kindipublishers.org/index.php/ijllt/article/view/8384/7208. Accessed 22 Feb. 2026.
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