Akinwumi
Iṣọla[1]
The poet in
traditional Yorùbá society never forgot his role as a watch-dog on public
morality, and the fact that he was accorded artistic immunity made his
contribution to the moral welfare of the community extremely very important.
Occasionally, however, when one listens to, or read Yorùbá poetry, one comes
across certain statements that make one wonders about the poet’s attitude to
public morality. When cunning, diplomacy and toughness of character are
discusses in Yorùbá oríkì, it is done usually, in three ways: by the use of
irony, by the description of purposefully terrifying act and by the use of
amoral standards.
The Use of Irony
Irony is a devise
by which an artist expresses a meaning contrary to the stated or ostensible
one. Usually, the artist makes it clear that the meaning he intends is the
opposite of the literal one.
Among the Yorùbá,
the ironic use of amusing folk rhetoric is familiar. When a man is particularly
very good at doing a thing, it is common to hear people refer to him
affectionately as ‘ọmọ àlè burúkú’ (the bloody idiot) or ‘ọmọ yẹn ò dáa’
(the boy is just not good). Or at times ‘ewèlè ni’ (he is an evil spirit). The
listeners are supposed to understand properly what the speaker intends.
There was an
amusing story of a driver that went to testify in favour of his driver friend
in a law court. He wanted to inform the court that his friend was an excellent
driver and he said: ‘Ṣé Súlè? Ó ń wa n tí kò dáa!’ (You mean Sule? The way he
drives is just too bad). Unfortunately, the judge who must have lost his sense
of humour, sent Sule to jail.
In everyday
speech in Yorùbá, the unwary listener may make serious mistake if he does not
take note of the speaker’s tone or mood when certain statements are made. When
the speaker uses ‘ẹ̀gọ́’ (irony), he means the exact opposite of what he says.
Thus if you ask a silly question, the Yorùbá man is likely to give you a
positive answer. You will be foolish not to get the right message.
Currently, among
the University of Ifẹ students, one notices some English slangs that reflect
the use of irony in Yorùbá. A student once said of a lecturer: ‘His teaching is
wicked’ meaning that his teaching was very good. And when a student says, ‘I
suffered heavily last weekend’, he meant that he had a wonderful time. One may
here suspect a strong influence of the Yorùbá situation on University of Ifẹ
students’ English slangs.
In Yorùbá oríkì,
the listener can always tell when irony is being used. Then, the statement
being made cannot be literally true of the noble personality, of the man being
described. Let us first examine a very recent example from oríkì Aláàfin Ládìgbòlù
as recorded by Àyànlọlá Tìjáni, a rárà artist from Ẹdẹ[2].
Of the many things he says of the eminent Ọba, the following statement is most
surprising at first hearing:
Aláàfin Ọmọ
Òfò Aláàfin offspring of great
losses
Ọmọ Àrùn Son of disease
Ọmọ Ìta A vagabond
Ọmọ Àkóbá ilé Offspring of undeserved trouble at
home
Ọmọ Àtìmọ́ Òde
… Son of detention outside …
Surely, these
statements cannot be taken literally. The chanter respects Aláàfin Ládìgbòlù.
He has the greatest regards for him. The statement above, therefore, can be
interpreted in two ways.
It may be that
the artist means the exact opposite of all the statements he has made above,
that he is being simply ironical. In other word, the artist wants to sat the Aláàfin
Ládìgbòlù came from a family-line known for its great gains, that he had very
healthy progenitors, that he was well brought up and that he was fair and just
in his dealings.
It may also be
that the artist is trying to show, indirectly, the great powers Ladìgbòlù used
to possess. That is, to his enemies, or to disobedience citizens, the Aláàfin
could be the cause of great losses. He could afflict them with terrible
diseases. He could be impossible. He could also measure out punishment out of
proportion to the offence of the enemy. The first interpretation is possible,
but the second is probably the correct one. In either case, the intention of
the artist is to demonstrate why Ládìgbòlù enjoyed so much respect and honour
in his life time.
The Description of Purposefully Terrifying Acts
The oríkì of
many òrìṣà and very many rulers and warriors are full of accounts of
terrifying acts and apparently cruel deeds. Part of Sango’s oríkì is:
Akunlépolè,
atúnfunàjẹ́-ṣe-lọ́gán He who burns
down a house to kill a thief, he who promptly re-arranges the intestines of the
witch.
He is also:
Abínú-palágbẹ̀dẹ-bọ̀gún
He
who kills the smith to appease the god of iron
Abínútẹmọ owú
fọ́ He who breaks the hammer under his
foot
Òlàrungààràsọmọ
níkòó He who thunders from heaven to knock someone’s head
Abínúpaalápàárá He who kills the jester in anger
Ṣàngó, o bínú
pẹlẹ́gàn jolè lọ Ṣàngó, you
angrily kill mere despiser than thieves
Ògún is referred
to, among other things, as:
Òlóminíléfẹ̀jẹ̀wẹ̀
He who has water at
home but bathes with blood
Ọ̀lásonílẹ̀fimọ̀kímòbora
One who has clothes but covers
his body with any palm fronds
Òrìṣà
tó lè gbalé, tó lè gbodò, tó lè gboko igi lọ́wọ́ ẹni The deity that can send one packing from home, that can bar
one’s way both to the river and the bush.
And it is said
of Òrìṣà-Ògìyán:
Òrìṣà Ògìyán ò
níkà nínú The Òrìṣà
Ògìyán is not wicked
Ó gbẹ́gi
ṣóó-ṣóó bọ oojú olóojú He gets
a sharp stick and drives it into someone’s sores.
Examples can be multiplied.
There is no irony involved in these cases. Why are these deities presented as
if they are mercilessly terrible masters? Part of the answer is to be found in
the nature of religion itself. Every religion must have a clever method of
instituting some fear into the minds of its adherents; it is this fear that
begets dedication. What is feared may be different from religion to religion.
In the case of traditional religion, it is the ability of the deity to deliver
instant and terrible justice to offenders. Ṣàngó would burn down a house to
kill a thief; he would identify an offender and stretch his hand from heaven to
knock his head. He would kill despisers and liars. No wonder why Ṣàngó is
greatly feared up till today. Ògún is blood-thirsty and would make life
impossible for an erring soul. He is feared because of this. Even, today, the
Yorùbá man would feel more comfortable lying on oath with a bible than on oath
with a piece of iron. Ògún’s justice is believed to come with dispatch. Gentle
and kind as Ògìyán is, he has a way of dealing effectively with non-conformists
It is the poetry
of oríkì that is used to create this fearful image of the deities. Deliberate
exaggeration is done both for the purpose of religious propaganda and for
maintaining peace in the society. In an age when there were no police men, such
strong deities as the Yorùbá had, were very necessary. So, as far as the oríkì
of the deities are concerned, those awe-inspiring accounts of harsh justice are
for a moral purpose.
The oríkì of
great Yorùbá men – Ọba and warriors, especially – has a few aspects in common
with the oríkì of the deities. Like those of deities, the oríkì of great men
help to build up their reputation. The oríkì contain accounts of gallant deeds
that stand as testimony for their right to rule and to enjoy certain
privileges. The Ọba has the power of life and death over his subjects as this
oríkì testifies:
Ikú, bàbá, yèyé Death, father, mother
Aláṣẹ, èkejì
òrìṣà Authority, second
only to the deities.
Accounts of how
earlier Ọba dealt ruthlessly with saboteurs are frequent in the Ọba’s oríkị̀
They serve to warn would-be trouble makers.
The oríkì of
great warriors tell of terrible destruction of opponents and of opponents’
property. War heroes seemed to have been regarded as a breed apart who has a
right to get away with serious offences that lesser beings dared not commit.
Part of the oríkì of Balógun Ìbíkúnlé of Ìbàdàn is as follows:
Balógun tó tó
tó! fùn! Balogun, I pay homage to you!
N kò jẹ́ bú ọ
l’eke lái lái! I will never call you liar!
Alárá ló bu ọ
l’eke! The Alárá called you liar!
Òbírítí, O sọ
‘lu rẹ̀ dahoro! Obírítí, you destroyed his city!
Ìkọgùsì ló bú
baba mi l’eke! Ikọgusi called my father liar!
Onílélọlá! O
sọ ‘lú rẹ̀ dahoro! You made
his town desolate!
Ajerò Àjàká ló
bu ọ l’eke! Ajerò Àjàká
called you liar!
Arówólò! O sọ
‘lu rẹ̀ dahoro Arówólò! You
made his city desolate!
…
O gbaiya wọn
nílé You took
their wives at home
O gbaiya wọn
l’ógun[3] You took their wives in
the war-front.
Here, Ibikunle’s
bravery and his war prowess is being extolled. The fact that he took other
people’s wives is not condemned. This seems to imply that such great men are,
in the epic tradition, allowed to have some vices. The morality code is a
little relaxed for them because of their other virtues. And this leads to our
next point.
The Use of Amoral Standard
‘Amoral’ here means ‘outside the sphere
to which moral judgments apply’. As we have said earlier, traditional Yorùbá
society was very strict on moral standards. Anti-social behaviour was condemned.
Thieves were severely dealt with. The Ọba, the Ogboni confraternity, the guild
of hunters and deities saw to the enforcement of the rules. How then does one
explain the apparent free extolment of anti-social behaviour in the oríkì of
some great Yorùbá heroes? Here is part of
the oríkì Olúkòyí:
Ajàkẹ́rùwọ̀lú,
ọmọ olè tí í – jẹ́ tèfètèfè Stealing-and-bringing-home-the-loot,
son of the thief who steals everything
Ọmọ
ogun lọ́san, ọmọ olè lóru, ogun ò le pọ̀ tó báyìí kí ẹ má folè díẹ̀ kún un You wage wars during the day, you
burgle houses in the night, with such great wars, you cannot but engaged in
some looting.
Ni
‘ọ́n bá ńjagun lọ́tŭn. And
so they fight on the right
Ni
‘ọ́n bá ńjalè lósì[4] They
loot on the left.
The artist here is, of course, not
approving of stealing. The original composer of the poem for the Olúkòyí must
have been making a statement of fact. We should say it again that oríkì is not
all praise. It is descriptive poetry. In other words, both the good and the bad
details of a hero’s life used to be included and the heroes were not ashamed to
own up to their weaknesses. The implication seemed to be that the heroes were
so great in other aspects of their lives that one or two weaknesses of
character would not make much difference. It was a mark of greatness therefore
for anyone to have his vices mentioned approvingly in public. But no moral
approval was intended. So, Ọlatunji might be right when he said:
The literary
imagination that has given birth to the oríkì readily accepts the extolling of
human bravery and courage at the expense of everyday or common-place morality.[5]
The other aspect of the use of this
amoral standard in oríkì is the wish to appreciate the skill demonstrated in
performing the action without attempting to evaluate the action itself morally.
It used to be possible to praise a man for being clever at doing an otherwise
undesirable thing. In addition, the ability to do an unlawful thing with impunity,
to commit serious crimes under the nose of law-enforcement agents and get away
with it is occasionally given mention in orikì. The most popular example of
this is the oríkì of Aníkúrá, a notorious robber living in Ọbáléndé. Here are
extracts from the oríkì as waxed on a record that sold thousands of copies in
the forties and fifties:
Aníkúrá lolórí olè tíí dábòro, Anikura
is the head thief that wears aboro cap,
Àgbàlagbà olè abàsùnwọ̀n gbọ̀ọ̀rọ̀, The
seasoned robber with the long pouch.
Ìgán ọmọ Ìmóòrù aráa ‘Pátégí, Ìgán son of Ìmóórù who
hails from Pátégí,
Aníkúrá tíí jọmọ ó ṣòwò, Aníkúrá who
allows one to trade,
Tíí jọ́mọ ó jèrè, He
will allow you to make profit,
Àyìnlá
tí kìí jọ́mọ ó kérè ọjà délé. But
Àyìnlá will not allow you to carry the profit home.
Gbogídí, gbogìdì, gbongbo, The
hardened criminal,
Ọ̀rọ̀
ènìyàn tíí gbégi lódò má bẹ̀rù èpè. The
dare-devil that steals logs of wood from the river without fearing people’s
curses.
…
Aníkúrá
gbowó Ìjẹ̀bú, ó fi dẹ́wù ẹtù sílé Aníkúrá
took the Ìjẹ̀bú man’s money to make an indigo garment
Aṣòroó
ná bí owó Ìjẹ̀bú, awọ́nlọ́jà bí ẹ̀sun iṣu Difficult
to spend as counterfeit coin, scarce in the market as roasted yam.
Jàgùdà
kéé-kèè-kéé lọlọ́pàá-Èkó ó mú, Nigeria
police man can arrest small time robbers,
Aníkúrá
ń bẹ nílẹ̀ wọn ò lè mu. There
is Aníkúrá going about freely no one can arrest him.
Bí
wọ́n bá mÁníkúrá, If
they arrest Aníkúrá,
Owó
ńlá Big
money
Aṣọ
ńlá Big
garments
Níí
fi í dí baba ńla baba wọn lẹ́nu, He
uses to keep their mouth shut,
Àyìnlá,
baálẹ̀ẹ̀ wàyó! Ayínlá,
master of double dealing!
…
Ẹni
tó bá dỌ́báléndé, Whoever
goes to Ọbalede,
Tí
ò délé Àyìnlá, Without
visiting Ayinla’s house,
Eléyiun
okoogi ló lọ. That
person has gone only to the bush to fetch firewood.
Again, the artist here was not praising
Aníkúrá because he was a thief, but because he was a very clever thief. Aníkúrá
knew his way about. It was difficult to catch Aníkúrá red handed. Part of the
oríkì stated that he was a powerful medicine man. Above all, he had enough money
to buy the toughest police officer. Aníkúrá became a living legend and there
were many romaticised stories about his skills at stealing. Other notorious
robbers around this time were Ikúmẹ́jakákò and Òjó Ìjàngbọ̀n operating at
Ibadan.
Details of oríkì show why the artist
admired Aníkúrá. As it was difficult to spend counterfeit coins so was it not
easy to catch Aníkúrá. He had no rivals in his skills: you cannot buy roasted
yam in the market, you cannot find second Aníkúrá. Aníkúrá had an efficient system
of stealing: He will watch you when you were working hard at your trade. He
would not disturb you when you were making money. He knew when to come in –
when you were going home with the cash in your bag!
It seems therefore that many years ago,
oríkì was being used honestly. A man used to be praise exactly for the right
reasons. The artist had his facts and did not hide them. A man’s vices would be
mentioned. He could be praised for being clever, but at least every one would
know him for what he was.
Today, the epic tradition is being
corrupted. Artists are no longer describing their targets faithfully. Men are
not being praised for the right reasons anymore because all the new ingenious skills
in cheating are essentially best kept secret. No big-time smuggler would want
his special methods mentioned in his oríkì. Instead, big lies about his hard
work and his generosity would be created. So, oríkì has ceased being a fair and
almost genuine description of a man’s activities. It has become a manipulated method
of propaganda.
Some of the reasons are to be found in
the changing role of the artist himself. The Yorùbá artist used to see his
profession as a kind of calling. The profession used to run in the family, and
because it was a kind of duty passed on from father to son, family reputation
was involved. Also, the artist used to have other means of livelihood and so he
did not have to tell lies to earn his living. Today, the artist himself has
become a business administration. We should also add that the new system of
justice has removed his immunity.
In conclusion, the world of the oríkì
has to be properly understood before it can be meaningfully related to events
in everyday life. Although the material of oríkì is taken from daily life, to
become oríkì, it has undergone elaborate processing and seasoning. Unless the
listener is aware of this fact, he may misunderstand the prescription.
[1]
This paper wsa titled Isọla, Akinwumi (1980), ‘Epic Tradition and Public
Morality in Yorùbá Oríkì’,
Department of African Languages and Literatures Seminar 1979/80, Monday 31,
1980, University if Ifẹ, Ile-Ifẹ, Nigeria.
[2] Àyàlọlá Tìjání:
Aláàfin Ládìgbòlù on ORCLP%(, Ọlátúnbọ̀sún Records Company, 1979.
[3] Oríkì Balógun
from I.B. Akinyẹle (1959), ‘Ìwé Ìtàn
Ìbàdàn. Third Edition. Exeter, p. 60.
[4] Oríkì olúkòyí
from Adeboe Babalọla (1973), Àwọn Oríkì
Orílẹ̀. Collins, Fourth Impression, p. 65.
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