The (Om0) offspring (tó) belongs (bá) to (ma jé) the (father Àsàmú), for (kékeré) the (ló ti ń jenu) individual (sámú-sámú). Indeed, yes! Accept it! This chaotic introductory statement is deliberate since it reflects the disarray I present today, without tranquility or structure... Nor submission or appeasement. My respected audience cannot be enjoying festive meals like Christmas rice and poultry while I struggle to create an article that will only last 20 minutes, surrounded by murmurs such as "uhm!", "na wa o," and "you've said everything." No, I refuse all of this.
Dear readers, where is my Christmas rice and chicken? Honestly, honestly, I'm really hungry. It's not just your mouths that can talk about the journey to Oyo: "Enu yin nikankan wo n ba de Oyo." My own mouth can also speak about the path to Oyo if I see a full plate of chicken and jollof rice.
Although my face swells from eating rice and my eyes sparkle with hunger as I hold chicken legs in each hand, I am still able to speak about 100 paths leading to Òyó. At this moment, I'm heading to the residence of Aláàfin Abimbola Akeem Owpade, known as Iku Baba Yeye, to join him in celebrating Christmas. If you're curious, feel free to accompany me—Aláàfin has plenty of food and palm wine for everyone.
Let's now take things a little more seriously. If you pass the overly technical opening sentence of this article through a literary filter, you'll uncover two connected sayings: one from English and another from Yoruba. The English saying goes "The child is the father of the man," while the Yoruba version is "Omo tó bá ma jé Àsàmú, kékeré ló ti ń jenu sámú-sámú." Neither borrowed from the other; rather, they both emerged independently within distinct cultural settings, using separate languages across varying periods, eventually becoming established pieces of wisdom. The English expression originated with William Wordsworth, an English poet, in his 1802 poem titled "My Heart Leaps Up." Meanwhile, the Yoruba phrase, "Omo tó bá ma jé Àsàmú," reflects logical thinking rooted deeply in community values found in the heart of a village square.
Since the two proverbs mean the same thing, I’m taking both with me to the Olṕyo in Òyó. “The child is the father of the man” implies that the gamut of a person’s childhood experiences, character, and values fundamentally shape who they become as an adult, stressing that the innocent, formative years of childhood lay the groundwork for the entire adult life. The proverb has a couple of other meanings, but the meaning I deploy here suffices for this engagement. The Yoruba proverb, “Omo tó bá ma jé Àsàmú, kékeré ló ti ń jenu sámú-sámú”, means “A child that would grow to become Àsàmú (an adult), would possess from childhood, Àsàmú’s sharp oratory skill”.
Allow me to entertain you with a tale shared by a former deputy governor years back. "Tunde, I used to be quite mischievous as a kid. Nothing could stop me from causing trouble. One time, I went through my father's liquor collection, which contained various fine beverages. Usually, I would just grab whatever caught my eye. However, on this occasion, I tried a dark bottle—it tasted incredibly sweet, smooth, and rich. After taking another sip, I ended up falling asleep next to the cabinet."
I suddenly woke up because of my father's car horn. Immediately, I secured the latch, rushed to my room, took a book, and sat there as calmly as a holy person. Ha, that was a narrow escape! A hot breeze blew into my nose. That evening, I had a peaceful sleep. I anticipated having another sip from the black bottle. On later instances, I continued drinking from the bottle. Every time I consumed it, I added some water to refill it.
One day, my dad had several high-ranking government officials over for a visit. He was pleased to have them. He walked over to his oak liquor cabinet, opened it, and retrieved different kinds of beverages. Holding onto 'my' bottle, my father proudly told his guests that he purchased the smooth drink along with other items from France. One of his friends took the 'my' bottle from him, saw that it had been opened, but said nothing.
As he uncorked and poured the beverage, my heart shifted. What had been a chocolate-colored drink now appeared pure white. Upon tasting it, his expression collapsed as though deflating. He addressed my father by his first name and presented the contents of his glass, stating, “Lagbaja, this isn’t from France.”
My father was straightforward and serious. His method of punishment involved a coiled six-strand whip. Once he had seen his guests off, he returned angrily. He summoned everyone into the living room and declared the offense. Instead of asking who was responsible, he simply stated, 'I'll start with the youngest! You, come over here!'
My youngest brother shouted, 'It's not me o! It's Auntie Tamedo. I saw her when she opened your cupboard and took your drinks! It's not me o!!'
Unaware that the spirit of his Irish Cream had been taken by his daughter, the father of the deputy governor continued to live with mistaken hopes, convinced that his bar remained as lively as a fire, without realizing that it had become as lifeless as a fridge. He was stuck in the past, just as Aláàfin Ọwọade is doing now.
Crowned in the early part of 2025, Ọwōade hasn’t even completed a full year on the throne inherited from his predecessors. Yet he seems to have ruled for more than ten years. The rhythmic clatter of the pestle hitting the mortar in Ọ̀yọ́ isn't an indication of mealtime; rather, it echoes the beat of a conflict that was never needed. On April 11, 2025—six days following his coronation on April 5, 2025—I penned an article titled "Letter to Alaafin Abimbola Owoade," celebrating the newly crowned monarch, offering my congratulations, and urging him to govern with peace, affection, and unity. In this piece, I expressed: "May the land not resent you, Your Majesty. May Ọ̀yọ́ experience tranquility under your leadership... Aláàfin, thus far, your steps seem aligned with honor, I implore you not to stray from this course."
After observing the discordant bata sound coming from Ọ̀yọ́ palace afterward, I composed another article dated May 9, 2025, entitled "Aláàfin Ọwōde: Your bata drum is echoing too strongly." In this piece, I urged Ọwōde to be careful, highlighting that the path of royalty is filled with hidden dangers. Particularly, I referenced the disputed passing of Chief Lookman Arounfale, the Baba Ọjà of Ọ̀yọ́tùnjì, a U.S.-based community, following his reported attack at Aláàfin's residence. Nonetheless, the palace released a statement refuting any connection to Arounfale's demise.
In the article, I also mentioned how the Ọ̀ràngún of Ìlá, Ọba Abdulwahab Oyedotun, along with his group, were reportedly handled poorly during a visit to express congratulations to the Aláàfin.
Right from the start, specifically on Aláàfin’s coronation day, disputes arose concerning how many Yoruba people viewed the poor handling of the Ooni of Ife, Ọba Adeyeye Enitan Ogunwusi, whose name wasn't spoken at all throughout the event. Being recognized as the cultural leader of all Yoruba traditional leaders, the Ọọni was denied the opportunity to address the gathering. This suggests that the Alaafin had some sort of resentment towards the Ọọni prior to being crowned. According to my own observations, when it came time for an oba to represent all the traditional rulers attending the coronation ceremony in Owode, it was the newly appointed ruler of Oro in Kwara State, Ọba Oyatoye Titiloye—a king only a few months into his reign—who was asked to speak instead. When the Alaafin finally spoke, he did not acknowledge the presence of the Ọọni or the kings from Osun State. I believe this isn't appropriate behavior toward guests who traveled far from their 'ile ati ona' just to celebrate with you.
During his eight months in power, Ọwọade has made visits to the Aseyin of Iseyin (Oyo State), the Okere of Sak (Oyo State), the Alake of Egba (Ogun State), the Sultan of Sokoto (Sokoto State), the Onitede of Tede (Oyo State), the Olofa of Ofa (Kwara State), the Oluwo of Iwo (Osun State), the Emir of Ilorin (Kwara State), and the Olowu Kuta of Owu Kuta (Osun State) as part of a gratitude and orientation tour. However, he hasn’t yet met with the traditional leader of the Yoruba people, the Ooni of Ife, Ọọni Adeyeye Ogunwusi. I believe Aláàfin Ọwọade is reserving the most significant visit for later. Iku Baba Yeye is free to decide whom and when to meet.
Owoade's behavior raised specific concerns for me since the heat map showing his connection with the Ooni shows red, whereas that of the Arole Oduduwa appears green. At this point, it would be appropriate to pose a relevant question to the Alafin: In what way has the Ooni offended you? As I mentioned before, the Alafin is free to associate with anyone he chooses; however, it is not within his rights to display conduct that portrays the Yoruba people as impolite, haughty, and undignified.
Once more, what has the Ọọni done to earn the Aláàfin's contempt—when the Ọọni hasn’t openly shown disrespect toward him? Before the Aláàfin assumes I'm working for Ogunwusi, he should pick up last Friday’s PUNCH and see how harshly I criticized the Ọọni for appointing Senator Oluremi, the spouse of President Bola Tinubu, as Yeye Asiwaju Gbogbo Ile Oduduwa, without employing the traditional 'akoko' leaves. My article was titled "Tinubu: Ade Ori Okin fits KWAM 1 better than the Awujale's crown." Aláàfin, no one sent me money; I’m simply among Nigerians calling for accountable leadership so our nation can progress.
A lengthy line of Nigerians seeking proper conduct from their leaders were taken aback several months back when Ọwọade declared that he alone held the power to bestow titles covering all of Yorubaland. This declaration followed the Ọọni granting an Ibadan entrepreneur, Dotun Sanusi, the title of Okanlomo Oodua. Ha ha ha. The ruler of Oyo then ordered Ogunwusi to revoke the title given to Sanusi within 48 hours or suffer repercussions. However, the Ọọni hasn’t revoked the title. Moreover, the wrath of the Ṣango of Ọyō has yet to affect Ogunwusi. Could it be that the Aláàfin meant 48 years instead?
Was the Iku Baba Yeye "hanging out" — as young people nowadays might put it? When faced with something trivial or humorous, today’s youth might also say "just joking" or "nonsense."
One of the leading traditionalists and an Araba of Osogbo, Ifayemi Elebuibon, expressed his views on the current matter, stating that the Old Oyo Empire, upon which Ọwọade bases his dominant claims, has been long extinct. He remarked, "Oyo must compensate other regions of Yorubaland that they oppressed. Oyo caused destruction among neighboring Yoruba communities, dominating towns and villages, and compelling them to pay taxes. When they assert that they saved Yorubaland, how many conflicts did they engage in compared to Ibadan? Where were they when Ibadan fighters were responsible for pushing back and defeating the Fulani? At that time, the old Oyo Empire had already fallen apart. Therefore, should Ibadan also rise and declare itself better than Ile-Ife? Absolutely not. Can a son be older than his father? Didn’t Oranyan, who established Oyo, originate from Ile-Ife? What exactly are they implying? Should our rulers today be involved in battles for dominance?"
Observe the number of individuals Basorun Gaa has slain. Consider the quantity of Alaafins he eliminated? Should this be the kind of legacy we take pride in? Can such a historical narrative serve as the basis for a monarch’s current power, allowing him to dominate others under the pretense that we remain trapped in ancient times? The Alaafin needs to practice restraint. Several of our customary leaders are causing disgrace upon us. Did Itan or a regal selection determine the supremacy of the Alaafin? However, the Ọọni's dominance stems directly from Itan.
I told Elebuibon that Ifa had selected the new Alaafin. He responded, "Indeed, Ifa selects rulers, but the one chosen must also transform himself..."
To be continued.
Supplied by SyndiGate Media Inc. ( Syndigate.info ).
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