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OPINION: For Ganduje And Kabiyesi
Published
2 months agoon
By
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By Lasisi Olagunju
Useful Abdullahi Ganduje kissed the canvas on Friday. Many more will go his way. His fall was the wish of his maker, the king: cold, calculating, ruthless.
Ganduje said he resigned as APC National Chairman to take care of his failing health. APC governors, deities that they are, assisted him with a different reason. They held a meeting in Benin at the weekend and said the man’s exit aligned with internal reforms and ongoing efforts to strengthen their party. “His Excellency, Dr Abdullahi Umar Ganduje’s resignation is in tandem with the party’s continued evolution,” the governors said. How could someone’s sickness be part of a party’s reforms?
If the voice of an elder does not sprout yams that are good for pounding, it will sprout yams good for planting (Ohùn àgbà, bí kò ta isu gígún, á ta èèbù). The president is the elder here; nothing he utters or orders goes unheeded. We have since learnt that Ganduje had to go because the president needed a clearer view of the future. The president is busy weeding the field and mounting the stakes to the applause of the indentured. The whole country is behind the one who hires and fires; like the old lion, all walks lead into his tent.
The stage President Bola Tinubu is today was the stage Zulu king, Emperor Shaka, was at the peak of his glory. From 1816 to 1828, from River Pongola to the Tugela River, Shaka conquered this enemy and defeated that foe. In deft, strategic moves, he allied with all rivals around, massed for himself a vast empire of 200km-wide area, north of the present-day city of Durban, South Africa. He built an empire of marvel that has been difficult for history to ignore. Shaka moved from king to emperor; he dominated, ruled, developed and plundered as he wished. Then, one day, God said “enough!” The man suffered the final loss, but his reign left ugly scars.
Emperor Shaka did no wrong no matter how gross the things he did were. Everything he did was right and was worthy of his people’s applause, and the people applauded him. Even when the emperor treated and called his subjects dogs in their presence, the subjects clapped and said they were blessed. In 1824, Shaka was visited by Henry Franics Fynn, an Englishman on official duty. A fascinating exchange, which ensued between them, was carefully kept in a diary by the white man:
Shaka: “I hear you have come from umGeorge, is it so ? Is he as great a king as I am?”
Fynn: “Yes; King George is one of the greatest kings in the world.”
Shaka: “I am very angry with you.” (He said while putting on a severe countenance). “I shall send a messenger to umGeorge and request him to kill you. He sent you to me, he did not send you to give medicine to my dogs.”
All present immediately applauded what Shaka had said. (They were the ones he called dogs, and they knew).
Shaka: “Why did you give my dogs medicine?” (in allusion to the woman I was said to have brought back to life after death).
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Fynn: “It is a practice of our country to help those who are in need, if able to do so.”
Shaka: “Are you then the doctor of dogs? You were sent here to be my doctor.”
Fynn: “I am not a doctor and not considered by my countrymen to be one.”
Shaka: “Have you medicine by you?”
Fynn: “Yes.”
Shaka: “Then cure me, or I will have you sent to umGeorge to have you killed.”
Fynn: “What is the matter with you ?”
Shaka: “That is your business to find out.”
Fynn: “Stand up and let me see your person.”
Shaka: “Why should I stand up?”
Fynn: “That I may see if I can find out what ails you.”
(Source: Stuart and Malcolm, ‘Diary of Fynn, 83-5’, in ‘Tshaka and the British traders, 1824-1828’ by Felix N. C. Okoye, 1972).
If Shaka were Yoruba, he would be worshipped as Kabiyesi, an emperor, the one no one queries. “To be truly imperial, one must have an empire to govern.” Harold Larrabee wrote that in his review of Arthur Schlesinger’s ‘The Imperial Presidency.’ Larrabee was right. I add to what he said: To have an empire, you must fight and conquer all enemies, and “eat up” friendly neighbours. Shaka did that in Zululand. That is the point our ‘democracy’ is at present in Nigeria. Kabiyesi has removed all gloves, he is on a strategic offensive, building a pan-Nigeria empire.
Dutifully daily, Tinubu signs appointments, he instigates rebellion in enemy camps and inspires defections; he whispers resignations. His Imperial Majesty does unimaginable things and gets away with them with uncommon success. Yet we say Nigeria will defeat him in 2027. From the first shot in 1999, the man was clear what he wanted to do with the farm put in his hand. He has since grown strong to become a master of confounding abstraction: positioning, counter-positioning. Sometimes he fights in calculated silence. You remember that saying about the dude whose soup plate is a buffet of lamb and ram parts; the man who eats his pounded yam with relish, mounts his horse in daytime and his woman at night. Yet they say we should ignore him because he is not well. Who is not well? What he does is not a definition of insanity. That is not stupidity; it is cold steeze. His sneeze is a chill jitter. To defeat him, you need extra, extra work – and a surfeit of ‘sense’.
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Let us examine this: Rauf Aregbesola plays his politics with plenty, plenty songs of battle (orin ote). Sometimes he sings the songs and his fans dance; some other time, you see his followers take the lead while he follows with electrifying dance steps. Such a lively politician. There is a particular song from his talking drummers that I hold to: “Ení máa bá e s’òsèlú o, á ní sense t’ó pé…(anyone who wants to engage you in politics must have very good, adequate sense).” I take that song as not an ordinary blab of the bard. I take it to heart as both a warning and a war cry. ‘Sense’ in that song should be read as wile and guile varnished with mountains of money and might. Every politician from Lagos School of Politics lives by that song and is certificated in its foundational philosophy. Yet, all of them, including Rauf Aregbesola, are mere students. The school principal is Bola Ahmed Tinubu, the pilot of our imperial presidency.
The Sage of Chelsea, Thomas Carlyle (4 December 1795 – 5 February 1881) was a Scottish essayist, historian and philosopher. Thomas Carlyle saw the world of politics as a chess board with “councillors of state sitting, plotting, and playing their high chess-game, whereof the pawns are men.” Tinubu, today, plays out that allegory with chilling clarity. In just two years of his imperial presidency, he has recreated the political arena, rebuilding it from what it should be, a place of ideals to a chessboard where every defection is a ‘rook’ captured, every resignation a ‘bishop’ displaced, and every silence from the Villa a move made under the cover of strategy.
Almost all reports that announced the exit of Dr Ganduje as the national chairman of the APC said he was forced to quit by the president. I have no problem with Ganduje leaving the buffet table for another to hop there and eat. Literally, there is no issue in the use and flush of the expendable. What I find intriguing is the normality and the ease with which the ‘democratic’ system opens its door for imperial presidential invasion while we all shout “Hail Caesar”!
Chess is an Indian invention, imported into the Middle East, and exported to Europe by the Arabs. In ‘Chessmen and Chess’ by Charles Wilkinson published in May, 1943, we read of Masudi, a tenth-century Arab writer, who tells us of the various uses of the chessboard, especially “how it served for studying the strategy of war…” It is on the chessboard that you meet the ‘king’ dominated by the stately ‘queen’. “If there is trouble on the board” look for the sly old fox called ‘bishop’. There is also the most eccentric ‘knight’ “who loves a bloody fight”; and then the ‘rook’ who “will beat the ‘bishop’ any time.” There is also there the weak, expendable pawn. I am not a chess player, never played the game. I read all those in ‘Chess Pieces’ authored by David Solway. I found it good for my meditation.
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If I am allowed to bring chess into political commentary, I would set Nigeria down as a board, take the forced resignation of Ganduje, the wave of defections into the APC, and steady-handed President Bola Tinubu as the master chess player behind it all. The man plays chess, not dice; he does not place his hope on luck. What he plays is a game of precision, deep foresight, and ruthless elegance. That is unmistakable chess. With some other blocs, Tinubu created the APC years ago. The party started as a company of many directors. Now, the man is possessing it wholly. He is fast becoming the sole inheritor of not just the party, but the Nigerian state and its blessings. With his ingenuity, he is excising competition, those who may not be happy that he is recreating the party and the country in his own image.
If you don’t play chess as I don’t, watch those who do, or ask them for directions. Ganduje’s fall was a perfect act of the master moving a knight to expose a king. There are many more movements to make, going forward. Check this president’s records since Lagos; his skill at neutralising kings before they rise is topnotch and legendary. And he has not started. The man is just showing us the faint head of the bird in his pocket.
Elephant’s hide that confounds the cobbler (awo erin tíí dààmú onísònà). That is what Tinubu has become. He plants corn of trouble (àgbàdo òràn) in his neighbour’s garden; he sits back and watches if they will dare harvest the corn. When a PDP governor defects to the president’s party today, a senator yesterday, and a whole state House of Assembly follows tomorrow, we all know these for what they are. The defections are not patriotic or spontaneous acts of conviction; neither are they movements of love for the god they worship. The deity also has no feelings for them. They are what chess players would dub precise recruitments for battle; pawns, bishops, and sometimes whole castles brought to the side of the reigning monarch. If you like, keep murmuring or shouting betrayal. That is your headache. My chess teacher tells me all this is Tinubu repositioning the board ahead of 2027, removing weak links and replacing them with loyal sentinels. The APC governors said almost the same thing in their communique on Saturday: The ill health that sacked their chairman is the health of their party.
It would have been excellent if half of the energy and brilliance we see in all these political actions and movements are seen in the management of the affairs of our country. We don’t see the captain maximally at work; he is, instead, busy playing politics with everything. The nation tanks; businesses, big and small, reel in pains, and the people suffer not lightly. Over 130 million Nigerians still live in extreme, multidimensional poverty. Bandits lock fingers with terrorists and are on the prowl, unrestrained, unrestrainable. Yet, all we see is politics being played with one-hundred percent of attention and resources. Democracy has failed here.
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Social Democratic Party (SDP) presidential candidate in the 2023 election, Adebayo Adewole, in a recent comment scored Tinubu A1 in politics and F9 in governance. “That is a problem because the A1 in politics only means that he knows the political class very well; he knows what moves and motivates them as well as how to recruit them. He sometimes retrenches them, retires them and reengages them because he knows what they want. But I wish he knew what the Nigerian people want, which are basic services, economic stability and security. If he cannot save lives in Benue, Plateau and many parts of the country, then he has failed.” Adewole stressed and added that the only skill Tinubu has in the management of the economy “is the economisation of truth, which basically is what they do rather than manage the economy.”
Well, I won’t comment on the failure score which the SDP man gave the president – because I want to be safe. But A1 in politics I also score the grandmaster of Nigeria. I salute him.
Thomas Henry Huxley, prominent 19th-century biologist and agnostic, once described the world as a chessboard governed by hidden rules and unseen players. Well, what we have happening before our very eyes in Nigeria is not a game of hidden rules and unseen players. They do not play with masks here. The players on all sides are known and very well too. Huxley said the player on the other side “never overlooks a mistake or makes the smallest allowance for ignorance.” The president is the player on the other side. He has rewritten the rules; his fingers are seen probing every hole. He does not bend and break the rules: the rules bow, bend and break before His Imperial Majesty. And he does not care if the whole world says he is wrong. He must win every game.
On Friday, it was with heavy heart that the house of Ganduje saw their master leave the APC board. The once-useful ‘bishop’ was yanked off the board for the master’s greater control and sweeter win. The Kano man, like all expendable pawns, is out, but the game continues. And the real player is still seated, still calculating, moving the pieces. He is Tinubu, cold blooded like Emperor Shaka, the eagle, watching, calculating while his enemies counter-calculate. The grimmer the play, the more pleasurable to watch. That is where the good news is for watchers like me, and for popcorn makers. The board is resetting for 2027. Be attentive. I am.
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Comedian and skit maker Raji Adetola, widely known as Mr Sanku Comedy, has died after a car accident in Ibadan, colleagues and family confirmed on Tuesday.
The fatal crash occurred on Monday along the Oyo–Ogbomoso road. Photos and videos shared online showed the vehicle plunging into a ditch. Sanku was rushed to hospital with a friend who was travelling with him, but he was later confirmed dead. The condition of his companion remained unclear, though reports suggested critical injuries.
The 2021 content creator was known for his unique storytelling and comedy skits, amassing a large following on TikTok. His final video, posted a day before his death, went viral after the tragedy. In it, he prayed not to die before reaping the fruits of his labour.
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Actress Funmi Awelewa said she had been told Sanku was initially responding to treatment, but he did not survive despite prayers.
“When I saw the news online, I quickly sent one of my students who stays close to Bowen hospital, and he told me that he met one of your friends at the hospital who told us that you’re responding to treatment. I prayed……God, we prayed!!! Kilowa de bai Oloun, Haa Olorun oba oo,” she wrote on her Instagram page.
Fellow skit makers Ozain Comedy and Jidex also paid tribute, with messages shared on Instagram and TikTok.
“Rest well, soldier,” Ozain wrote shortly after influencer Jidex also took to TikTok to speak on his death with the caption, “Rest in peace.”
News
Benin Consultative Forum Mourns Its President, Arase’s Death
Published
12 hours agoon
September 2, 2025By
Editor
Benin Consultative Forum (BCF) has expressed sadness over the sudden passing of its president, Dr. Solomon Ehigiator Arase.
Arase, who served as the 18th Inspector-General of the Nigeria Police Force,died on Sunday, August 31, 2025 in Abuja hospital.
In a statement signed by the Vice President of the Forum, Dr. Samson Osagie, and Secretary-General, Prof. Edoba Omoregie, the BCF said Arase was widely celebrated for his role in modernizing the Force.
“He introduced innovative policing models, including the establishment of a state-of-the-art technical intelligence platform, and made history as the pioneer Head of the Criminal Intelligence and Investigation Bureau, where he deployed forensic and non-kinetic strategies to combat complex crimes,” the statement partly reads.
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The BCF, while describing Arase as a towering figure in Nigeria’s security architecture and an acknowledged intelligence cop within the global security network, recalled his contributions to police reforms, intelligence, law enforcement, and scholarship, especially through his writings on internal security and electoral management.
The Forum noted that Arase’s membership of the Body of Benchers was a reflection of his commitment to excellence, integrity, the rule of law, and service to humanity.
“Until his passing, he was the immediate past Chairman of the Police Service Commission (PSC), where he brought fresh, innovative ideas to police management.
“Beyond his public service, Arase would be remembered as a philanthropist who used his influence and professional networks to uplift communities.
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“Through the Solomon Ehigiator Arase Foundation (SEAF), he provided scholarships to indigent students across Nigeria and championed causes that advanced education, security, and social welfare,” the BCF noted.
The BCF also highlighted his passion for his people, which inspired the formation of the Forum in December 2024 at his Benin City residence.
The BCF said his vision was rooted in building an egalitarian society where culture, security, and development went hand in hand.
“The Edo people, the entire nation, and humanity in general are highly appreciative of his humble service which he rendered with uncommon dedication, grit and compassion,” the statement read.
The Forum extended prayers and condolences to his wife, Mrs. Agharese Arase, and their children, describing his death as a monumental loss to Edo State, Nigeria, and the world.

By Suyi Ayodele
When a man says, ‘Here is where my friend was disgraced yesterday,’ our elders ask us to remind him that the disgrace has become a communal one. No sensible man derives joy from the shameful conduct of his kinsman. Does that philosophy still hold water in Yorubaland today?
A big Yoruba king was jailed in the faraway United States of America last week. He was arraigned, tried and found guilty of blood profiteering. The Apetu of Ipetumodu, Osun State, Oba Joseph Oloyede, was sentenced to four-and-a-half-year imprisonment by Justice Christopher Boyko of the North District of Ohio, US, for stealing COVID-19 relief funds running into millions of dollars.
Oba Oloyede was portrayed as a blood-sucking demon who took delight in the blood of the victims of the pandemic, COVID-19. He stole $4.2 million meant for the relief programme for the victims. In addition to the jail term, the monarch will also refund the sum of $4,408,543.38 to the US Government.
He will add his home on Foote Road, Medina, Ohio, to the restitution. Oba Oloyede’s bank account with a balance of $96,006.89 will be taken over by the government. The troubled monarch is not entitled to a Cent of the money in the account. The court said the money therein was the proceeds of fraud! That is not the end of his troubles.
When eventually released, the jailed Ipetumodu monarch will be on the watch-list for three good years. The devil helps him if he misbehaves during his suspended release. He goes back to jail, summarily!
The saddest aspect of the tragedy is that while the trial lasted, Oba Oloyede did not put up any defence, no alibi. He admitted committing the crime. When the charges were read to him, Oba Oloyede simply pleaded guilty to the crimes he committed between April 2020 and February 2022. Kabiyesi was arrested on May 4, 2024, when he travelled to the US. He was sentenced on August 26, 2025!
This is a sad development for the entire Yoruba Race. It is a sad development that we would not want to tell our children. But not the Yoruba of our time. If we were to be the true products of the Omoluabi ethos handed over to us by our forebears, Yorubaland would have been in mourning over the Apetumodu shameful outing in the US. But what do we have now?
Instead of showing remorse, the elders and elites of the land are busy exchanging words over inanities. Hot exchanges are being traded over unimportant matters. Words that, like the proverbial egg which breaks when thrown on the floor, have been uttered. When the storm calms, the scars will be visible for us to see. Outsiders alike will also see the relics of this current useless war over a non-issue. We left leprosy to treat ringworms!
We are in ruins in this land. The entire Yoruba race is dancing naked in the market square. Those who have no ancestry have come to the open to deride a race that is acknowledged worldwide as the most civilised and most cosmopolitan. The entire Kaaro Oojire is in shambles, dressed in garments of shame because our monarchs are behaving badly!
I sighed in sadness after reading the Apetumodu’s ordeals, I tried to reflect on how Yorubaland arrived at this turning point. Whom did we offend? Has what happened to the children of Oduduwa had anything to do with the curse placed on the race by Alaafin Aole Arogangan? Why are most Yoruba thrones occupied by the dregs of humanity nowadays? Why do we have charlatans and other undesirable elements occupying Yoruba palaces? At the point of my confusion, history beckoned. Yoruba thrones and nitwits, history says, predates this era. How?
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Years ago, when the ant could carry the tortoise on its head, a rich man died. Though the man had two sons, he bequeathed his estate to the extended family members. He left nothing for his sons! Nobody knew why he did that. But the two boys were not stupid. They knew where their father kept his most valuable possession, a giant box of precious stones. The boys, at the cover of the night, stole the box. When the time came for the family to share the rich man’s estate, the box was discovered missing.
From time to time, the boys were selling the gold and other precious stones in the box. They had a mutual understanding until one day, the older boy got greedy. He wondered why his younger one would share the proceeds of their heist with him equally. He decided to have the entire stuff to himself. The older brother stole the remaining items and told his younger one that they had been robbed of them.
Stealing the king’s flute is not the problem; where to blow it is the issue. The younger brother, suspecting that his older brother was up to something, decided to keep him under close monitoring. With no moment of respite, the older brother used the only available opportunity he had to be alone and carried the box to the palace for their king to keep for him.
Our elders say the third generation of greed will be a burglar (ipele keta okanjuwa, ile lo unko). The king saw the gold and decided to keep it to himself. He called his sorcerer and got the deadliest poison from him. He planned to kill the one who asked him to keep the precious stones. While at it, an incident occurred that required the attention of the king’s diviner.
The diviner, Àsèsèdà Ifá (The one who is new at divination), cast his Opele. But rather than address the issue that brought him to the palace, he told the king that he (the king) was about to do something that would bring eternal shame to him and the throne. He asked the king not to mix gold with poison because the hereafter would spell doom for the king’s lineage. The Oracle, Àsèsèdà Ifá said, directed that the king should return what was kept in his custody to the owner.
Àsèsèdà Ifá was still on the divination mat when a commotion was heard within the palace precincts. Who had the audacity to fight before Kabiyesi? The parties were brought before the king, and lo, they were the two brothers. The younger one, who suspected that the older brother wanted to cheat him, resorted to violence. When the combatants became inseparable, their family members dragged them before the king.
The king asked what the matter was. The two brothers reported how they stole the box containing their father’s precious stones and how they sold some of the items, and the remaining items went missing. Everyone present was shocked that the boys could steal what their father gave to the entire extended family. But the king had a better understanding of what happened.
The king sent for the box he kept in his room. When brought, he removed the poison on top and emptied the contents on the floor. There were the missing pieces of gold. The king went ahead to share the items between the two brothers and ordered that all the other property the family had taken over be returned to the boys.
Diviners of old who narrated this story said it is from Ifa Corpus (Odu Ifa) known as Ogunda Ofun, named after the king (Ogunda), who wanted to appropriate what Ofun (name of the older brother) kept in his care. To date, in Yorubaland, one of the divinations done for a would-be oba is Ogunda Ofun with the admonition that he, the would-be oba, must never covet that which belongs to another man- Ogunda Ofun, ogbe mohun folohun (Ogunda Ofun, let the king return that which belongs to another to the owner). Did the Ipetumodu people take Oba Oloyede through this Ifa divination?
Yet another story to buttress that Yoruba thrones have been under siege for a long time.
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A group of alájàpá (itinerant traders) market women set out early in the morning. The destination was Ibadan, Gbagi Market to be precise. They were cramped at the back of the Bedford vehicle, sitting on the wooden benches that were rammed to the floor, and holding on to the wooden body of the vehicle for stability.
Their monies were tied around their waists inside their yèrì and òpóò (long cloth purses). Those purses would not be untied until they got to Gbagi Market, where they would buy the wares they traded in.
The Bedford vehicle, on top speed, suddenly ran into a pothole. The passengers were thrown at one another, knocking heads. The vehicle came to a sudden halt. The driver cursed! He was familiar with the road. It had no pothole on that spot. He could swear to that; the driver knew where the potholes were. And those were not as deep as the one that halted the vehicle.
His instincts instantly came alive. Danger! This must be the handiwork of some adigunjalè (armed robbers), he muttered to himself. But nobody emerged from the bush to attack them. Shocked! What could have happened then? He asked no one in particular.
A woman asked what happened. The driver remained silent. He manoeuvred the vehicle out of the pothole. He dared not check if he had lost a tyre. Experience taught him never to do that on that spot. Yes, he must move a distance before he can check the state of the vehicle. Then he remembered. The pothole could have been dug to slow the vehicle down. “Òràn dé” (danger looms), he whispered loudly. The tension in the vehicle became intense.
He steadied the vehicle back on the road. Moved a distance, engaged the gear for acceleration. His headlamp picked up the objects ahead. Logs of wood, they were. Someone had barricaded the road. Nobody needed anyone to say who did that. Armed robbers were at work!
The driver applied the brake and jumped off before the vehicle came to a complete halt. His motor boy did the same. The duo dashed into the bush. Only the women were trapped. It was a case of olórí d’orí è mú (everyone for himself).
Running was useless for the women. Before the first of them could jump out of the vehicle, the armed robbers were already on them. They were ordered out of the vehicle. One after the other, their attackers dispossessed them of their money. Then the unthinkable happened.
One of the women recognised a figure among the armed robbers. She could not be mistaken. It was a figure she would identify among a million men! Sure of her vision, the woman saluted: “Alayé (owner of the world), Kábíyèsí (he who no one can question) Àdìmúlà” (the one you hold to survive).
Two other women turned to look at the man. They recognised him to be the Kábíyèsí (king) of one of the biggest towns in that axis. Ah! What was Orí Adé (the head that wears the crown) doing among armed robbers? They wondered as they made to pay obeisance as tradition demands. What they got shocked them.
Kábíyèsí raised his cutlass and dealt the first matchet blow on the head of the first woman who identified him. A chilling cry, and she went down. Alayé moved to hit the next woman. She ducked, but not before she got a bow to her arm. The other women took to flight. The party scattered. Àdìmúlà and his gang also took off. They did not forget their loot, anyway!
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The next vehicle carrying another set of traders came to the scene. The driver and the passengers began a rescue operation. The first woman was stone dead. They simply packed her corpse by the roadside; attention focused on the wounded but living. Those who ran away were attracted by the accompanying wailing and came out of hiding.
The day broke with the news of the armed robbery incident. The two women who identified kábíyèsí could only tell their husbands. They were sternly cautioned not to tell any other person. Their husbands then volunteered the information to the elders of the town, who, in turn, also maintained the oath of secrecy.
Later in the day, Kábíyèsí summoned a meeting of his chiefs. He called neighbouring kings too. A company of the esoteric was dispatched to the robbery incident to go and do what tradition stipulates. Curses were laid, and the gods of the land were asked to avenge the sacrilege instantly. Then everyone went home. Did the curses work?
Yes, they did. Days later, it was discovered that all the trees around the spot withered; they all shed their leaves in the rainy season! What happened? It was gathered that after the esoteric team had performed their rites and left, Kábíyèsí led another team of traditional experts to the spot. Being the king, nobody could question him for the second traditional journey. He was not just Kábíyèsí for fun.
According to the story, on the second trip, kábíyèsí asked that a pig (elédè) be sacrificed. He alone did the ìwúre (royal pronouncement) on that occasion. He simply told the party that he wanted to commune with his ancestors in silence. They responded: Kábíyèsí! Nobody heard what he said. They only noticed that his lips moved. The pig was slaughtered, its blood sprinkled on both sides of the road, and the party headed home. End of ritual! The result was the withering of the trees.
Any adult from Ayebode Ekiti up to the then Arigidi Ekiti (now Ayedogbon Ekiti) in the mid-70s would remember this ugly incident. The Ekiti-ethno-music icon, the late Elemure Ogunyemi, later in one of his albums, alluded to the incident when he sang: Ha ti m’òrí elédè rúbo (we have sacrificed the head of a pig)/ùgbàyí á dèrò kooko (this season will be peaceful).
But that incident did not go without repercussions for the erring Kábíyèsí. Conscious of the shame that an open reprimand would bring to the town, the elders came together and confronted their king. Of course, when in ìgbàlè (traditional coven) with the elders, Àdìmúlà owned up to the crime.
The elders did what they needed to do and sealed it with a traditional pronouncement. No blood descendant of the kábíyèsí would ever ascend the throne again! They sealed that with Olugbohun. Whoever attempted it would pay with his entire sires. Kábíyèsí was asked to pass the message to his children for onward transmission to the generations to come. He also paid a heavy fine couched as etutu (appeasement items).
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Àdìmúlà thereafter lived and died at an old age. His remaining days on the throne witnessed a lot of crises, though. Other members of his gang died miserable deaths. Another kábíyèsí is on the throne in that town. The people await whether that secret seal will be broken! This story was told in hushed tones, as I tell you today!
Before the above ugly incident, another Yoruba king was once executed for murder. The king was hanged in 1949. He was said to have used a 15-month-old baby girl, Adediwura, for rituals.
The trial of the oba was a huge sensation. The advocacy in the court was the best anyone could imagine. But that could not save him and his accomplices. The trio were executed by hanging. What did the people, his subjects, do to the family of the executed king? Would they ever allow any of his offspring to ascend the throne of the rocky town? But more importantly, what was the Ifa prediction before the oba was enthroned?
This is where we are missing it in Yorubaland. A lot of misfits are today wearing crowns in the land because they were chosen by other external forces apart from Ifa. The modern-day civilisation has robbed us of our heritage. No would-be oba who spent an average of three weeks in Ipebi (seclusion) would misbehave on the throne.
But that is no more. A would-be oba was once asked to go into seclusion for seven days. He got to the door of Ipebi and put one of his legs inside seven times. He told the people that each step into the Ipebi represented a day. Guess what? He was still crowned king. It happened because the influential members of the community were behind him; he was their candidate! With good money and connections in high places, anyone can become an oba today. Ifa, Yoruba religion, has been shifted and shoved to the background.
Today’s Yoruba foremost kings are at loggerheads. Others are queuing behind them, forming camps. While the fire rages, the farmlands their ancestors left for them are in ruins. The subjects Edumare put under their care are daily killed, kidnapped, maimed and rendered homeless! Obas are going to jail, some fight in public, and many are facing trial for rape and other misdemeanours.
The Daily Mail of UK on May 19, 2024, ran a story about another king who was “twice deported from America with a lengthy criminal record and a distinct murky past. The paper described the oba as “a conman”, stating that he tried to “cash stolen £247k cheque.” Interestingly, the king has not contested the report as he pontificates on virtually every issue of Yoruba ancestry! The circle of shame has gone round!
Ascending the thrones of Oduduwa is no child’s play. It comes with responsibilities; it comes with self-worth and dignity. If we cannot question these kings’ misbehaving because they are kábíyèsí, they should know that Alálé (progenitors) will ask them; Èsìdá (owners of the land) will judge them on our behalf. Enough should be enough. Our Yoruba obas should allow us to walk the streets with our heads raised. Ìtìjú yi ti ún pò jù (This shame is becoming too much)!
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