So Where Are We From Then?

(Photo credit: RAJESH JANTILAL/AFP/Getty Images)The most famous story about the origin of the Yoruba people is that we all descended from one man called Oduduwa. It is also the most misleading of stories because the man called Oduduwa who was said to have come from a place called Mecca (or, as historians have agreed, somewhere in the Middle East) most possibly found some indigenous people already living in the area now called Yorubaland when he landed with his travelling party from Mecca, and could not have been the sole progenitor of the now over thirty million people. In any case, he was said to have had only one son, who later had seven. So, for all intent and purposes, it was a conquest, kind of like the Founding Fathers arriving on the American continent from Europe, or Christopher Columbus “discovering” America after a long ride on the ocean, or Mungo Park “discovering” the Niger river. If that is the case, then when as citizens we use the now famous self reference “Omo Oduduwa”  to refer to ourselves, we engage in a kind of deceit, or self-disservice, or at least a subservient acceptance of the prehistoric conquest. The verifiable children of the man Oduduwa were the original seven kings who descended from his son Okanbi, and their own living descendants who now occupy the kingship thrones in Oyo, Benin, Popo, Sabe, Ife and two other Yoruba towns. That said, we are all Yorubas, just like the occupants of Britain are now all Brits, not Normans, or Romans, or Celts just because they were once occupied by those forces.

Image from http://www.agalu.com/biography.htmlBut where did we come from, the Yorubas? Going by the Oduduwa story, we (at least those Yoruba citizens that have “royal” blood) are all descendants of Oduduwa, who in turn is a descendant of Lamurudu.  Lamurudu interestingly is the Yoruba’s corruption of the name Nimrod from the bible, according to the Reverend Johnson in his book The History of the Yoruba. So there it is! We’re confirmed descendants of the Jews. Yet history does not rule out the possibility that Lamurudu/Nimrod was not even the immediate ancestor of the man Oduduwa, or that Oduduwa himself was not the immediate ancestor of Okanbi, so it is fair to take liberties with the fact. It is possible, almost certain by these accounts, that we were descendants of Nimrod the son of Cush, grandson of Ham, great-grandson of Noah. Now, even to me, that’s far removed. Why? Because Nimrod’s personality has never been fully established, and every once powerful civilization from Egypt to Greece to Jewish cultures have their own written perception of him that are not always complimentary.

Image from http://obatalashrine.org/000004.phpSo where did we come from then? A literal mecca? Quite possibly. The islamic civilization has it recorded that many years before/after Mohammed the prophet, many so called idolators were expelled from the city into the world outside. The man Oduduwa and his entourage who later settled South West of the Niger river were believed to have arrived there not only with magic and graven images (which were markers of idolatory for which they were said to have been expelled from the religious middle eastern city in the first place), they also came with peculiar forms of dressing, communication and way of life that marks them as from that part of the world. They worshipped man-made gods, they made sacrifices to them through priests, they wore long robes, greeted each other in a particular way, and their women covered their heads as part of their cultural identity. The staff of Oranmiyan in Ile-Ife today still has the words “Oranmiyan” engraved on it in Jewish letters, and it was erected before the coming of the Europeans to that side of the world. Have you ever wondered why the Yorubas name their children on the eighth day of the birth of the child? I have. Could it be, as suggested to my surprise by an American student in my Yoruba class on Wednesday, that we are following the tradition of the old Hebrews who always circumcised their children on the eight day after birth, as ordained by their God? I don’t know, but I won’t bet against it. There is so much that I don’t know, that I wish I knew. There is so much more we need to know about ourselves.

The real wonder for me is where we are from, we Yorubas who are not descendants of kings or the patriarch Oduduwa. Any takers?

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Just Like Old Times

“There are three major reasons why I wear this cap wherever I go, around the University, and when I come to class as I will from now on. I’m about to tell you.”

That was one of the first things I said to them them, a few seconds after I walked in to the full class where a horde of quiet, curious looking faces of attentive students stared back at me, none of who knew what exactly the class was going to be like. It was just like old times. They gave me rapt attention, they smiled when they had to, they had random looks of wonder and intrigue. But they probably had never seen anyone wearing this kind of cap before. It’s African, made of the finest aso oke, from Nigeria, West Africa. The class was full. I had prepared only seventeen copies of the syllabus, hoping that there would be at least fifteen students in class, and I’d have a few to spare. There were nineteen of them. No kidding! The twentieth student signed up a few hours later. This is a long shot from my previous nine students of the Fall semester! I took in the sight of them, fidgeted for a few seconds, and found a way into an introductory talk that was meant to put them at ease while providing an insight in the content of the course, and what it would take to pass, and to enjoy.

“The first reason why I wear this cap is that it is cultural. Yoruba people like to complement their dressing with a matching cap.”

Before I told them where I’m from, I first asked them to take a guess, and none got it right. So, I wrote it out on the board, and I heard a gasp, and random giggles. “Yes,” I said, “By now, all of you are familiar with the name of this country since Christmas day, right?” They all agreed. “Well, what you probably didn’t know,” I continued, “Is that we have over 250 ethnic groups, and over 500 languages. You also didn’t know, perhaps, that Yoruba – the language you would be learning for the rest of this semester – is spoken by over/about thirty million people both in Africa and all around the world. We have also produced a Nobel laureate in literature.”

“The second reason – as you can guess – is that it’s winter, and I don’t want to kill myself by exposing my head to the harsh cold weather”

They laughed at this one. It was the first victory. “It’s true,” I continued, “I’ve never lived in any place colder than 20 degrees Celcius before. It’s a wonder that I’m still alive now in a temperature of sometimes minus twenty.” That seemed to shock and surprise a few of them, and I continued. “Has anyone of you heard of a singer called Sade Adu? What about the musician called Seal? Oh, you have? Good. Does anyone know who Hakeem Olajuwon is? He played for the Chicago Bulls, I think. Oh yea, many of you do? Nice. What about Adewale Akinnuoye-Agbaje, that very dark-skinned man that played an Egyptian mercenary in The Mummy Returns and a French Legionnaire in the movie Legionnaire? He was also in the first seasons of Lost, I think.” I counted them and smiled. “Well, great,” I said “one thing they all have in common is that they are Yoruba, originally from Nigeria. Are you excited already? In this class, we shall learn everything we can about the Yoruba people, their culture, way of life, and language. And the first step in that knowledge is that we all must have Yoruba names. Yes, indeed. I’ve told you mine, and you’ve told me your American names. Now, you have to go and look for Yoruba names, their meanings, and why you want to bear them. Go online, ask friends, read books, but by Wednesday, we will all begin the necessary steps to become Yoruba citizens. Who’s excited already? Great!”

“Well, the third reason is that I sometimes forget where I left my comb in the room when I wake up in the morning…”

And so it begins, just like old times!