“Why should I bother myself with what is done to my body when I die? Oyomesi (the council of seven high-ranking chiefs in the Oyo Empire) knows what to do with my body!” That was what immediate past Alaafin of Oyo, Oba Lamidi Adeyemi III, told me in his palace, a few weeks before he journeyed to Ibara – where Oyo buries its kings. He was furious with Ogun State traditional rulers. His grouse was with the Obas and Chiefs Law of 2021. That law has aberrant stipulations that are repugnant to tradition and customs. One of them is the provision stipulating that traditional rulers can be buried according to their religious dispositions.
First presented at the Ogun State legislature in early 2020, it was named, “State Traditional Rulers (Installation and Burial Rites) Bill 2020.” The Awujale of Ijebuland, Oba Sikiru Adetona, who recently passed, initiated it. The bill sought to make “a law to provide for the Preservation, Protection and Exercise by Traditional Rulers of their fundamental rights to be installed and buried according to their religions or beliefs and for other related matters.” In 2022, Governor Dapo Abiodun became the pall-bearer of this sacred, even if mythical, ritual of traditional burial of kings transmitted from our forebears.
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To fortify institutions and systems that they revered, our forebears curated a number of taboos, myths, wise-sayings and social mores which served to make them distinct in everyday relations. An ancient saying that explains the secrecy of their kings’ burial is, “it is a taboo (èèwò) to bury the initiate the same way you bury a non-initiate.” It is one of Yoruba’s ancient aphorisms which escaped into the modern time. Though modernity has afforded us opportunity to see those inherited myths as mere decorative palm fronds (màrìwò) on a masquerade, they are the pillars upon which Yoruba traditional institution stands. The Orò cult myth is one of such. Those days, as the cult’s ceremonies were conducted, most times at nocturnes, a fearful, ululating flute whistled through the night. When women whom the system forbids from seeing its rituals hear the flute, a chill runs through their spines. It was a symbol of the dominance of male chauvinism.
An Ifa corpus poetic chant gives a short narration of a king called Olufimo Akoko. He did what no one ever did and got a recompense that was unexampled. His offense? He brought his youngest wife into the sacred grove. The wife had pestered her king husband to let her into the secret of the Oro cult. After ceaseless prodding, Olufimo caved in to her demand. So he hid his curious wife inside the Àpèrè, the king’s stool. As the ceremony was afoot, every of the initiation process hit a dud end. Thus goes the Ifa poetic chant about the dilemma the initiates faced: “A pe Ifá, Ifá ò jé o, a p’Orò, Orò ò mì tìtì o”. Troubled on what could have gone amiss, someone suggested that the Kabiyesi’s Àpèrè be searched. When they found the pretty woman carefully tucked inside the stool, they decided to do the needful. In order to continue to reify the myth of what goes on in the Orò cult, both the Olufimo and his damsel were instantly beheaded.
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On Tuesday last week, as I stepped into the Obafemi Awolowo Auditorium of the Federal University of Technology, Akure (FUTA) Ondo State, I was confronted with two choices. Before me were traditional rulers of immense renown. They gúnwà-ed (pardon my inflection for their royal sitting) in their ancient majesties. The Olowo of Owo and Chairman of the State Council of Traditional Rulers, Oba Ajibade Gbadegesin, Ogunoye III, was there. He reminded me of one of his mythical predecessors, Sir Olateru Olagbegi, KBE. The Deji of Akure, Oba Aladetoyinbo Ogunlade Aladelusi, whose stool parades lustering pedigree of great kings like the British-trained lawyer, 42nd Deji, Oba Ademuwagun Adesida, was there. The king of my village, Ilu Abo, and former Secretary to the Government of the Federation, Oba Olu Falae, was there. And many others. They were all gathered for the 10th coronation anniversary colloquium of the Deji. The topic for discussion was, “Role of Nigeria’s Traditional Institutions in Nation Building: Impediments and Prospects” and I was one of its three discussants. The options before me were binary: Give the Kabiyesis the platitudes they were used to, or tell them the absolute truth they needed to know? I chose the latter.
So, I began. The traditional institution parades a great pedigree. Before the advent of the colonialists, it was the highest governance institution of the era. Indeed, as stated by the colloquium’s Keynote speaker, Oyo State governor, Seyi Makinde, in the traditional institution, the colonial masters met an impregnable institution of governance that had been in existence centuries before their advent. It was a pillar of identity, legitimacy and cohesion which also upheld values and united communities, Makinde said.
I continued: Today however, the traditional institution is at its lowest ebb. Seldom regarded, kings would seem to have lost their relevance and sacredness. Entrance into the institution has been generally bastardized. Money dictates who becomes king and in the process, illegitimates and dregs of society get smuggled into the system. An Oba is known to smoke marijuana. The bulk of them are land-grabbers who make money from the tears of their people. We now have kings who are ignorant about the customs of their people. I once heard a thoroughly confused Oba introduce himself as “Oba Assistant Pastor” on television. The most annoying part of it is the ease with which they repudiate the customs and myths surrounding their offices. The latest is the funeral of the late Awujale of Ijebuland. A few days ago, Kabiyesi, one of the most revered monarchs of Yorubaland, was buried like an ordinary mortal and soldiers prevented traditionalists from having a hand in his burial. As I spoke, there was pin-drop silence. While many felt I was audacious in the presence of the Irunmole, some agreed that our fathers needed to hear the gospel truth. “The traditional institution must redeem itself if it wants to be taken seriously,” I concluded.
In an interview Oba Adetona granted before his death, he cavalierly disdained the traditional institution. A valiant man who stood staunchly against General Sani Abacha, in that interview, Awujale exposed virtually all the sacred innards of Yoruba kingship. For instance, the cult of secrecy preceding installation of Yoruba kings got massively shellacked by the Awujale. “What we did in seclusion is nothing secret. We were just there making merry and enjoying ourselves while relatives, friends and other well-wishers come around to visit and rejoice with the king… That is all… So, where were the traditionalists you talk about then? And what rites are you referring to? I cannot recall any rite that was done behind the scene. Let them come and tell me. It is all lies. Nothing like that. They even tell you that they give the heart of a deceased Oba to the new one to eat! They are crazy. Nothing like that…I didn’t eat anything oooo. So, no such thing happened,” he said.
This was the very first time I would see a Yoruba king expose and explode the myths of the centuries-old traditional institution. By their very definition, myths are lies. You will find many of Yoruba ancient myths in German editor, scholar and writer, Ulli Beier’s book with the title, Yoruba Myths (1980). Andrew Apter of the Yale University, in his journal article entitled, “The Historiography of Yoruba Myth and Ritual” History in Africa, Vol. 14 (1987), pp. 1-25, said of it, “Myth is… a false reflection of the past” or a “testimony of the past in oral societies”.
Unable to explain how they came to where they were, Yoruba propounded so many founding myths to explain their existence. Reinforced by rituals and narrations, the myths explain the founding of their kingdoms through creation stories and tales of their migration. For instance, as espoused by Apter, Yoruba creation myth focuses on Ile Ife as the people’s source. Even though it lacks any empirical fact, it is a mythology that has shaped the people’s existence.
Several other myths were curated to fortify their kingship system. Yoruba needed to differentiate their kings from ordinary mortals. Their aim was to invoke dread, respect and an eternal relevance for the system. One is that, kings’ heads are not to be seen by ordinary mortals. The rationale is that, if every Tom, Dick and Harry sees and touches their kings’ heads, it deconstructs them and the overall system. Again, in the process of carving immortality for their kings, Yoruba compare them to the gods, “igbá kejì òrìsà” and say their kings do not die. So, if they don’t die, a taboo was then needed to literally demonise sighting the corpse of an Oba. Like Christians did to mythologise their founding patriarch, Jesus Christ, the Yoruba also created and surrounded their kings with myths. It is a taboo, for instance, to say an Oba dies but appropriate to use the euphemism, “Oba w’àjà” – he ascended up through the rafters. Obas’ exits are not announced like mortals’ but with elements of sacredness and sobriety. As Christians are not allowed to query the non-empirical claim of their patriarch’s birth and anyone who does so is a social outcast or an atheist, the Yoruba do not take kindly to attempts to remove the ancient shawls surrounding their kings.
Myths were essential to the ancient Yoruba people. Many of them are found in palaces. For instance, if you enter the palace of the Alaafin of Oyo today, you must remove your shoes, sandals and slippers. It is said that it is a taboo not to. No one has ever been let into the repercussions of dissension. Until recently, no one shook the hands of an Oba. Oba Lamidi Adeyemi was lucky. As he aged, providence, the designer of his visage, decorated his face with dread. You couldn’t look at Oba Adeyemi’s face without a dread running down your spine. You would assume you were looking at the frightening face of a lion. As close as I was to him, whenever I was in his presence, rather than his face, I looked at my feet. I once told the story he narrated to me. A lawyer had apparently got used to seeing the Alaafin in his palace without any encumbrance. One day, the king thought it fit to put an end to this. So, he kept the lawyer waiting all day. He went home without seeing him. Alaafin told me he had to mythify the office and person of the king. “Mo fi Aláàfin hàn án ni” – I showed him the steely stuff the king is made of, he said.
All the above make attempt by traditional rulers in Ogun State, in concert with their governor and legislators, to commonize the burial of their kings, a cultural heresy. Some other parts of Yorubaland have also partaken of this despicable heresy. All Yoruba of goodwill must get Dapo Abiodun and his co-travelers on this journey to retrace their steps. It is a calamitous journey. Obas must go through the seclusion rites of Ipebi and must be buried according to the tradition they willingly subjected themselves to. It is called traditional rule, not modern rule. The burial of Oba Lipede, the Aláké Egbaland, some years ago, was going to end up a calamity but for a momentary recourse to reason. In Ogbomoso, the body of Soun, Oba Ajagungbade III, was subjected to a despicable act of public viewing. Ibadan people seem to have made this desecration of their Obas’ bodies an art. They did it with the bodies of two previous Olubadan who ‘w’àjà’-ed, Oba Saliu Adetunji and Oba Lekan Balogun. The two Obas’ bodies were carted round and about like skinned goats from the abattoir. The greatest calamity would have befallen Yorubaland when Aláàfin Adeyemi ‘w’àjà’-ed and Islamicists attempted to bury him like an ordinary mortal. It took the firmness of Sango cult adherents to stop the drift. They instantly stopped the madness.
I have heard canvassers for the modernisation of traditional institutions talk about the dynamism of culture. Yes, I agree, culture is not static and should not be resistant to change. However, as I said earlier, the glue that holds that institution in this age of modernity is the survival of those ancient myths. Without them, kings lose their differentiation from all of us. Come to think of it, why are so-called kings this cowardly that they are afraid of what becomes of their bodies which would be consumed by maggots anyway? Even an atheist, Dr. Tai Solarin, asked that his body parts should be given to medical students for anatomical studies.
At the Deji of Akure’s 10th coronation, the Olowo of Owo came to the rescue of the institution of his forefathers. After praising the Oyo State government for upholding tradition in the recent enthronement of the Alaafin of Oyo, he said, “Personally, I often said that I am a traditionalist to the highest level. Of recent, we were aware when the Queen of England passed away and what it entailed when she was being buried. To me, it is optional. If you want to be an Oba, be an Oba. If you do not want to practice what it entails, you have the option of not to accept to be an Oba. It is not by force. Before I accepted to be Olowo of Owo, I know what it entails. I was in the palace for 25 years with my father. I am fully aware of what is involved. I have not observed anything repugnant in our tradition. Let us understand that there is nothing repugnant about our tradition.”
Still talking about burials, the passage of President Muhammadu Buhari has elicited diverse comments. To start with, I do not agree that when a person dies, regardless of the evils they commit while on earth, they should be sacralized. I began canvassing my opposition to this view, said to have been inherited from our past, long time ago. For eight good years of Buhari’s reign, I made my views of him available to all. The summary is that he was a disaster. In saner societies, his kind should never come near the dais of responsible governance. Today, many Nigerians queue where I stand
Last week, President Bola Tinubu harvested the proceeds of Buhari’s death. I enjoyed his graveyard politics and diplomatic burial shuttles to Daura and Kano last week, ostensibly in pursuit of the mythic 12 million CPC votes said to have been sequestered in the hands of Buhari. More importantly, I hope Tinubu reckons with the lessons in his predecessor’s sudden death? One is that, you cannot sow tears and sorrow and expect a debased, pummeled and traumatized people to garland your corpse with deodorants as elegies. Apart from Tinubu and his graveyard politics crew, Nigerians literally pelted Buhari’s body with pellets at his departure.Tinubu should use this lesson to review his policies and find ways of making the rest of his life count in favour of the people. In the same vein, our traditional rulers should have a rethink. Most of them seem to have, by their conduct and proclamations, borrowing from the lesson from an ancient old anecdote, shown the fox that the crown on their cock’s head holds no fire. If we continue to label our beautiful calabash ‘pankara’, what South Africans call wanzagsi – a broken calabash – we should not be surprised if the ignorant elect to pack their dirt with it.
Festus Adedayo is an Ibadan-based journalist.
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