Alaafin: Some words for king and chiefs By Lasisi Olagunju

(Published in the Nigerian Tribune on Monday, 13 January, 2025).

The oba under our law is not a king; he is a chief. That is why the law governing the appointment and removal of the oba and his ìjòyè is called Chiefs Law. The colonial government made it so. The oba was not recognised as king by the law – because the English king/queen was the sovereign here, and there could not be more than one king in a kingdom. They didn’t stop at that. What the oba occupied or vacated was a ‘stool’, not a ‘throne’. Only the English king or queen had a throne. And, one more thing: the oba was allowed to raise revenue but he must not call what he did “collection of taxes”; only His/Her Majesty, the King/Queen of England had that right. The revenue-raising privilege the oba had was known and called “imposition of tributes.”

Sixty four years after the British left, the law is still Chiefs Law; what the oba occupies is still the lowly ‘stool’, not a ‘throne’. Imposition of tributes or collection of taxes? The oba lost that power to the local government council. Ìgbì Aiyé Nyí. No condition is permanent.

‘Ìgbì Aiyé Nyí’ is a Yoruba novel that teaches the impermanence of power and privileges. Authored by T. A. A. Ladele, the title literally means ‘The Tide of Life Ebbs’ – or, in simple words, the cliche: “no condition is permanent.” In chilling details, we read the story of unbridled excesses and a humbling fall. From the mountain top of privileges, we read the Alaafin of Oyo, his palace and his chiefs descending the stairs to abject subjection. It is a book for every new king to read in their period of seclusion. I particularly recommend it to the three high chiefs of Oyo who are currently talking tough against their employers (the government) over the choice of their new oba.

In a contest between egg and stone, the result is easily predictable. No oba should think himself God – or government; and no chief must act like king. The past is in the past. In the past, one vote of the palace trumped sixteen votes. That vote today belongs to the state. This is not just about Oyo State. A new Owa Obokun of Ijesaland was chosen last month. Whose call was that? You have also seen the making of the Emir of Kano by one governor and his unmaking by another. The real chiefly kingmakers lost their scepter the day the British came and took power.

There is a gain in what has just happened: Future contestants now know the abortive result in kingmakers commodifying stools and thrones. Tomorrow, no kingmaker will find intelligent buyers for what belongs to all.

No oba will also think himself God tomorrow. The king was very powerful and divine in the past. But that part is buried in the past.

I once reported this: In the West Africa magazine of March 3, 1945 was a piece in celebration of the memory of Alaafin Siyanbola Ladigbolu I (1911 – 1944) who joined his ancestors a few months earlier. “The highest oath that an Oyo man could take was to swear by the head of the Alaafin,” the magazine wrote, and added that the people believed their oba was God. The oba himself thought himself so and he said so and acted so. How?

Eshugbayi Eleko was deposed as the Oba of Lagos in 1925 by the British. He was subsequently banished to Oyo town but he didn’t go quietly into the night; he went to court. During the ensuing celebrated case, evidence on some historical issues was needed in support of the deposed oba. It was to the Alaafin of Oyo that counsel to Oba Eshugbayi went.

Oba Ladigbolu was asked to swear an oath before his evidence was taken.

Alaafin queried in anger:

“By whose name?”

“By God’s name or by the name of your idol,” the lawyer told him.

“I myself am God!” The oba thundered.

That was hubris; he was too big to know that the horse of his powers had bolted. If you doubt the reality of how the Alaafin perceived himself in the statement above, maybe you should read another case recorded for him in history. It is the account of a visit of Ibadan Councillors I. B. Akinyele and J. Aboderin to Alaafin Ladigbolu on a peace mission on 1 October, 1934. It tells of what an Alaafin thought he was – and capable of doing.

The councilors left Ibadan and reached Oyo at 4:00 p.m. They reported themselves to the Resident. With the Resident, they went to the Aafin in company of the District Officer, Mr. Jones.

They then delivered the message of the Baale of Ibadan and of his council to the Alaafin: “In the olden time, our forefathers and your fathers were friends, and we earnestly wish that this friendship should continue. Your messengers have been treating our messengers with contempt and abusive language whenever we sent them to give you compliments and presents during the time you hold your yearly festivals. We do not like this sort of treatment any longer. If our friendship is to continue, our messengers should be treated with courtesy befitting our dignity. We do not presume that you are responsible for this kind of treatment that our messengers receive from yours. We would like you to take step to warn these messengers to stop this bad habit. We wish that we should maintain the old bond of friendship and live as neighbours in peace and harmony. Wishing you long life and prosperity. When we have delivered the above message, the Resident called upon the Alaafin to reply. The Alaafin then said that this message was not meant for him, and the Resident himself should reply to it. The Resident again reiterated the message, and explained it to the Alaafin. The Alaafin again said that the message was not meant for him. The Resident gave the gist of the message two times more and asked the Alaafin to give his reply to the message.

Then the Alaafin said: “Of all the inhabitants of Ibadan, with the exception of Oluyole, which of you has got a father? And, are you not all my slaves I used to send out on expeditions to fight my enemies?”

The Resident said that the Alaafin should not say that again, because in the Treaty of 1893 between Ibadan and Queen Victoria, his predecessor (the late Alaafin) admitted that the Ibadans are free.

The Alaafin replied:

“He! He! (Fie, Fie) I think all white men are the same. Captain Ross, my friend, had put them under me, and if you wish to take them away, you could please yourself. I know there is no else beside me but God. What shall I do with the Ibadan people? They do not work for me on the farm; they have not helped to construct roads in Oyo. What do they do for me? If any man wanted promotion at Ibadan I used to send my friend, Captain Ross, to elevate him; and if any appeared recalcitrant, I used to send my friend to punish him and remove. When I instructed Situ the Bale to promote one of my friends, and he did not listen, I worked his removal through my friend. I think you white men are the same and I think you adopt my friend’s policy, and if you do not wish to do so, you could please yourself, this means ‘Omi titun dé, eja titun dé’ (New water comes and new fishes come) Ten Kings ten times. You Resident are the new water and you are the new fish. It is your own look out, to manage the business as you like.”

The Alaafin said further:

“You, the two councillors, I want to give you a special message to Okunola who calls himself a Baale. Tell him he should remember that in his father’s family, no one has ever borne a title in Ibadan which is higher than AYINGUN. When he came to beg me here that I should give him a title, I asked my friend, Captain Ross, to go and promote him to the title of Ekerin, although he had not been a Mogaji before. When he wanted to become the ASHIPA, I again sent my friend to tell Situ, the Baale of Ibadan, that if he refused to make him the ASHIPA I would demote him and make the Ekerin Baale in his stead.

When he wanted to be made the Balogun, it was the turn of Aminu, the son of Apanpa, to be the Balogun, but I took the turn from Aminu and gave him and promoted him to become the Balogun. When he wanted to become the Baale of Ibadan, I deprived Otun Ayodele who had the right to the post and made him the Baale of Ibadan. Whenever he quarreled with any of his wives, I used to settle the quarrel.

If he could follow this Oyinbo (the new Resident) let him hold on to him. He should remember that when he had no horse, I gave him one. If that was the way he could show his gratitude, alright. He should remember that Situ had not done half of what he had done and he should remember how I hated him.”

The Alaafin then gave the councilors one turkey and one pound and sent them away.

The account above is as it is carefully set out on pages 933 and 934 of Toyin Falola’s ‘Ibadan: Foundation, Growth and Change, 1830-1960.’

The Alaafin who said all the above was the same Alaafin who died and was denied the customary company of courtiers on his journey back to his ancestors.

You remember Wole Soyinka’s ‘Death and The King’s Horseman’? The historical incident that birthed that play happened at the exit of Oba Ladigbolu.

His predecessors enjoyed the privilege of the company of their Olokunesin, the king’s horseman who must commit suicide and follow his late lord to the world of the dead. The white man said no to Ladigbolu’s Olokunesin; the king who said he was God went home alone, and lonely.

We hope the new Alaafin knows that he is appointed king and not God. We hope he learns from the tide that washed away his ancestors’ privileges. I hope he knows he is not coming in to become rich, become a pastor or an Imam. His coming is to retie the snapped rope of life of his land.

The people saw other trees in the forest before they settled on this òmò trunk for making the newest Gbèdu drum. The choice must always remember that fact and beat the right beat, sing the right song.

When a prince is crowned king, he must never be seen again making good-luck charms – except he wants to become Olódùmarè. The one who did that was presumed seeking to be God. He should ask his predecessors for guidance.

Fifty years is a good age to enter the ancestral grove. When a child is invested with the Egungún costume, he has become an elder and must, therefore, be found with elderly conduct. Courage lives with leaders.

A key wisdom the new king will hear in Ìpèbí is that one does not become an elder and yet lacks courage. Cowardice has consequences. He should ask Alaafin Ajaka.

The Alaafin institution is bigger than Oyo town, bigger than the oba and bigger than the chiefs. It cannot be abandoned as hostage to principals and principalities.

What do you do when a calabash buries its face in the ground and won’t look up? The answer happened on Thursday and Friday last week. The chiefs are not the town.

Now to the oba-elect. Whoever sits on the stool of Oyo should never be seen at weedy, seedy joints. He must speak the language of his beginning and clothe his ancestors with velvets of respect and respectability.

Shameful journeys he must not make. Strange words and/or gestures that attack the reason for his stool should not be his to say or make.

We have seen enough wrong persons ‘shitting’ on ancestral beds. We cannot add Oyo to that rank. There was an Alaafin Abiodun for whose reign the people till tomorrow sing songs of praise.

Abiodun’s successor was Aole whose reign made refugees of the people. The choice of who to copy is for the new moon to make.