Opinion

Tinubu: Ade Ori Okin befits KWAM 1, not Awujale crown

Published

7 months ago

December 19, 2025

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Driving 756km to watch soccer god, Messi

Tunde Odesola

Tinubu: Ade Ori Okin befits KWAM 1, not Awujale crown

Tunde Odesola

(Published in The PUNCH, on Friday, December 19, 2025)

Blood is thicker than water, so the saying goes. But not in every case. Sometimes, workplace fluidity possesses the same viscosity as blood. The seed of my relationship with a longstanding friend and colleague, Hammed Shittu of ThisDay newspapers, was watered in the field of journalism before blossoming beyond the boundaries of deadline.

A relative of the Ẹ̀léjìgbò of Ẹ̀jìgbò, Ọba Ọmọ́wonúọlá Oyèyodé Oyèsosìn, Hammed was raised in the palace; therefore, his upbringing instilled in him the Yoruba social etiquette of respect, humility, integrity, and wisdom. Hammed, whom the Ògìyán of Ẹ̀jìgbò nicknamed Ẹ̀lẹ̀mdí Ìkòkò Ẹ̀wà because of his love for beans, is very funny. He takes as many jokes as he throws. Ẹ̀lẹ̀mdí’s jokes are raw, unrehearsed and far more cracking than the jokes from some unfunny folks who call themselves stand-up comedians.

I nearly got Hammed one day when his laptop went blurry. I kept a straight face as I faked computer expertise, pressing all the letters on his keypad: ‘Control–Shift–Cap Lock–Escape–Enter!’ But the problem persisted. Then, I pressed Escape–Shift–Control–Enter. Still no luck.

With a frown on my face, I broke the sad news: “Ha, Alhaji, there is no more ink in your laptop! You need a refill.” Ẹ̀lẹ̀mdí looked at me suspiciously, processing what I had said, and searching for mischief in my eyes for mischief. But I held my nerve. I didn’t put a price on the ink, that would give me away. For a few seconds, Ìkòkò Ẹ̀wà chewed on my advice. Then, he said in his bright white smile, “Ọ̀dà ni o ba mi ra, mo ra inki. Ara ò fu ọ́,” meaning: “Buy me paint, not ink, unserious fellow.” That was the wicked wit of Hammed. That was in 2003 when both of us were the only ones using laptops in the whole of the Osun State Correspondents’ Chapel in Osogbo.

But literally speaking, I need some ink in my laptop right now because its lettering is blurry from mourning and writing elegies. I’m not one to parrot the scaremongering belief that death doubles its hustle in the last four months of the year Nigerians christened EMBER Months, because each of the months ends in ‘ember’. I don’t believe that during ember months, death casts its net deeper into the world-wide-web called Ayé Àkámarà, to harvest souls and skulls. So far, in this year’s ember months, death has reaped where it never sowed, taking away my in-law and infotech guru, Tayo Adewusi; Owa of Igbajo, Oba Adegboyega Famodun; Pro-Chancellor and Chairman of Council, Obafemi Awolowo University, Prof Siyan Oyeweso; Oluomo of Ife, Honourable Gbenga Owolabi; Chairman, MicCom Golf and Country Club, Chief Tunde Ponnle; and my buddy and top table tennis player, Emmanuel Bamidele aka ‘Baba Alaye’, among others. May the souls of the departed find repose in their Maker, and may the Lord give families, relatives and friends the fortitude to bear the painful losses, amen.

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As death was busy causing pain and chaos, some members of the Nigerian elite left many mouths gaping, gasping and saying, ‘Ehn-ehn?, Mba! O ti o, kai’, as they unfolded dramatic spectacles. Or, what do you make of Yoruba’s foremost traditional ruler, the Ooni of Ife, Oba Adeyeye Enitan Ogunwusi, installing the First Lady, Chief Remi Tinubu, as Yeye Asiwaju Gbogbo Ile Oodua, without the symbolic akòko leaves? Has the Ooni abolished the use of akòko leaves for traditional installation? I think if Yeye Asiwaju Remi Tinubu feels the akòko leaves are too dirty or pagan for her beautiful head, then she doesn’t know the responsibilities that her new title carries. She needs to know that titles walk with obligations hand in hand.

As Yeye Asiwaju, Madam Tinubu’s primary assignment is the protection of Yoruba culture and tradition. It is absurd that the ultimate custodian of Yoruba culture, the Ooni of Ife, flouted ancestral protocol by failing to perform installation rites on Yeye Tinubu. When rites are flouted, history and meaning collapse, thereby negating the Yoruba cosmic order that enables birds to chirp as birds and rats to squeak as rats. Sadly, the Ooni failed to ‘se bi won ti i se, ko ba le ri bi o ti n ri.’ Gradually, the Ooni is eroding Yoruba culture and tradition by shivering before celebrities and politicians. When will King Ogunwusi shed the toga of Mister Enitan Adeyeye? Yoruba culture and tradition will not survive the brutal hammer of cash and carry; the Ooni must beware.

And Nigerians aahed and ohed when Aisha Buhari, the widow of the most greatest President in the history of Nigeria, General Muhammadu Buhari, spoke in a 600-page biography, “From Soldier to Statesman: The Legacy of Muhammadu Buhari.” Like American poet and civil rights activist Maya Angelou, who discovered why the caged bird sings, more Nigerians now know why the caged crocodile gaped.

On the home front, the Buhari presidency was far from peaceful, Aisha stated in the biography, revealing that Buhari was locking his bedroom door because he feared she (Aisha) might kill him. Aisha also said Buhari did not support the presidential ambition of former Vice President Yemi Osinbajo because the Daura general felt it was inappropriate for Osinbajo to contest against his political benefactor, Asiwaju Bola Tinubu.

In the midst of the elite confusion ravaging Nigeria, a primate, whose cap looks like the calabash used in drinking palm wine, ministered to a minister that he, hElijah, possesses God’s hotlines, urging the ministered to exchange tithe for ticket. When I saw this elite confusion, I made a quick dash for my dictionary and discovered that another meaning of primate is gorilla.

Do you know what would happen if you whisper this sentence into the ears of a cow, “Prophet Mohammed is dead?” The cow would immediately go mad and gore the speaker because the cow, until the speaker spoke those words, did not know Prophet Mohammed had died. Please, do not laugh; one Islamic cleric told his congregation this crazy tale while his listeners shouted, “Allahu Akbar!” Nothing kills faster than ignorance, not the bullet. To affirm the vacuity in the Islamic cleric’s statement, many Nigerians have since stormed ranches and abattoirs, dragging cows by the ears, announcing the death of Prophet Mohammed. “Ojise nla Mohamodu ti ku,” they chorused. What did the cows do? They looked blankly at the announcers and continued to chew the curd, wondering if Man did not manipulate his way to the top of the order of creation.

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I won’t dwell on Alhaji Aliko Dangote’s takedown of the Chief Executive, Nigerian Midstream and Downstream Petroleum Regulatory Authority, Farouk Ahmed, because President Bola Tinubu acted like a dentist exasperated by the odour from a bad tooth, pulling it out swiftly. But surgeon Tinubu should look at all the other teeth in the buccal cavity, including his own.

Now, here comes the weirdest of the Nigerian elite spectacles – the kingship ambition of the Olori Omoba Akile Ijebu, King Dr Wasiu Omogbolahan Olasunkanmi Adewale Ayinde Anifowose Marshall! Popularly called KWAM 1, Ayinde has staked his claim to the throne of the Awujale of Ijebuland via the Fusengbuwa royal family. However, his kingship bid suffered a huge setback when the Fusengbuwa royal family disowned the 68-year-old Fuji musician in response to his expression of intent. The Fusengbuwa royal family is set to produce the next Awujale of Ijebu-Ode.

In the response dated December 11, 2025, and signed by the Chairman of the ruling house, Otunba Abdulateef Owoyemi; Deputy Chairman, Otunba Adedokun Ajidagba, and Vice Chairman, Prof Fassy Yusuf, among others, the family told Ayinde that his form was curiously ‘certified by a purported family unit head, one Omooba Adetayo Abayomi Oduneye Eruobodo, on 8 December 2025, two days before your good self (Wasiu Ayinde) signed it’, describing the form as ‘presigned’.

The family said Wasiu’s expression of intent form was not signed by the authorised representative of his purported family unit. “Omooba Adetayo Abayomi Oduneye Eruobodo is not a registered member of the Jadiara Royal House, and therefore, has no locus standi to sign any linkage form on behalf of the family,” the Fusengbuwa family declared, adding that, “ Our extensive investigation has not revealed any proof of your (Wasiu Ayinde’s) membership of the Jadiara Royal House or indeed that of the Fusengbuwa Ruling House.”

Crowns and titles wrestle for space in Wasiu’s cabinet. As far back as 1993, he was crowned the Oluaye Fuji. Two years before the late Alaafin of Oyo, Oba Lamidi Adeyemi, joined his ancestors in 2022, Adeyemi crowned KWAM 1 as the first Mayegun of Yorubaland. Much earlier, Wasiu had bagged the titles of Golden Mercury of Africa (1986), Badabarawu of Ogijo (1985) and Ekrin Amuludun of Ibadan (1986). He’s also the Balogun of Ilupeju-Ekiti (2025), the Oluomo of Lagos (1999), among countless other titles such as Capo De Tutti.

Wasiu Ayinde’s longest-reigning hit, Ade Ori Okin, is contained in his Extended Play album, The Fuji Sound, released on August 20, 2020. In various versions of Ade Ori Okin, Wasiu tells the world that he possesses a crown similar to that of a peacock. He calls his possession a Fuji crown. He says it was given to him by the pioneer of Fuji music, the late Dr Sikiru Ayinde Ololade Agbejelola Barrister. Wasiu croons that another title was given to him by another Sikiru, the late Awujale of Ijebulan, Oba Sikiru Kayode Adetona, the Ogbagba Agbotewole II. He sings that the late Awujale installed him as the Olori Omoba Akile Ijebu, thanking both Barrister and the late Awujale as his great benefactors.

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I’ve been a fan of Wasiu since the release of his monster hit, Talazo ’84, in 1984. For his industry and creativity, I admire Wasiu, but I detest his attitude. If Wasiu must know, opinions are divided over the assertion of the peacock as the king of birds. The eagle is generally more acceptable as the king of birds than the peacock, which is incapable of flying long distances. Unlike the eagle and even the hawk, the peacock cannot fly long distances, reason why it accepted the fate of living on the ground.

The kingship of the eagle over the peacock manifests in various countries using the eagle as a symbol of courage in their coats of arms. Examples are Nigeria and the US. Nigeria’s national male football teams are named after the eagle. Yes, the peacock is colourful, but what is the use of shoes to a legless man? What does a toothless man use a toothpick to pick? What is the use of the hundreds of eyes on the peacock’s tail when it can’t fly to see the world?

The peacock, Wasiu’s symbol of kingship, is an interloper, a fàwọ̀rajà, a misfit, who pumps itself up in a pompous spread of plumage to deceive and win the crown. The peacock is an alágbe, a beggar, who having gathered enough alms, wants to mount the throne of great birds. If the peacock is sure of itself, it should fly up to the sky and show the world which schools of flying it went to, and who were its teachers? The throne of the king of birds demands schooling. The peacock should not hide behind any power because the hawk soars in broad daylight, “gbaangba lasa n ta.” Because the rainbow fades off thereafter, I’ll choose character over colour.

Our forebears say morning shows the day. It is not uncharitable to assert that Wasiu is a controversial figure. More than any of the other top Fuji artists, Ayinde has been in the news for the wrong reasons. Bonsue Fuji originator, Adewale Ayuba, is the poster boy for humility and gentleness. The post of the Awujale demands a personality with patience and humility. An Awujale should not be seen slapping people on the street. An Awujale must not be friends with people of questionable character. An Awujale must treat people, especially women, fairly. An Awujale must be decorous – he must not disdainfully address the elderly. The Awujale must not refer to the President of the country as if he was referrimng to his mate or a younger fellow. He must be courteous to the young and old. He must not look down on clerics and call them ‘Ganusiers’. The Awujale must be able to take to correction whenever he errs; he mustn’t refuse to apologise to ‘Ganusiers’when told to do so.

The late Oba Sikiru Adetona would never stand before a plane and attempt to stop it from flying. Nobody in their right senses would. Wasiu Ayinde has done so much for himself and Fuji music; the crown of the Awujale is not befitting for him because he lacks the temperament for the office. As a music superstar, Wasiu belongs to the stage, the limelight, the loud noise, the paparazzi; the palace is a centre of cultivation, good breeding and discernment.

The Yoruba have been beset with all manner of traditional rulers in the past decade. There is one king in Osun whose estranged wife caught him on camera smoking marijuana. An Osun king, the Oluwo of Iwo, Oba Abdulrasheed Adewale Akanbi, was jailed in the US for fraudulent crimes. Most of the traditional rulers misbehaving today were installed by the All Progressives Congress administrations. Ijebu-Ode kingmakers and the Ogun State Governor, Mr Dapo Abiodun, should save the Yoruba nation from the horror of seeing the Awujale singing the praises of people at parties. President Akanbi Ahmed Bola Tinubu, omo Olodo Ide, you know what is good for the people of Ijebuland. Please, do it. Don’t allow màgòmágó to prevail.

Email: tundeodes2003@yahoo.com

Facebook: @Tunde Odesola

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Opinion

Release Sowore and Hausa activist Maisango, By Farooq Kperogi

Published

6 days ago

June 27, 2026

Trends Admin

Release Sowore and Hausa activist Maisango, By Farooq Kperogi

When I chose to visit Nigeria in 2023 after seven years of staying away, family and friends cautioned that the change of leadership from Muhammadu Buhari to Bola Ahmed Tinubu should not anesthetize me into a false sense of security.

But many people that I know to be close to President Tinubu swore that he had vowed never to hound any critic and that I would never be arrested or detained.

They said Tinubu was a discursive democrat who recognized the right of citizens to vigorously ventilate their angst and anger, however disagreeably they may do so. They pointed me to the fact of his having never sued anyone even when multiple people libeled him daily. I was persuaded.

In fact, a bragging right among Tinubu supporters is that even as a candidate he never sued anyone for libel in spite of the steadily unceasing cornucopia of manifestly defamatory statements against him on social media. Even as president, with complete control over the instruments of coercion, his supporters say, he has been remarkably restrained in the face of withering criticism from commentators and opponents.

I was almost convinced that Tinubu was genuinely persuaded by what theorists Chantal Mouffe and Ernesto Laclau have called agonistic pluralism, which is the idea that vigorous and intense disagreements are fundamental to a healthy democracy and that society should channel passionate political disputes into productive debate rather than strive for forced and false consensus.

But the last few weeks have shown that Tinubu, or people in his close circles, are trying to borrow a leaf from the book of past presidencies by showing intolerance for deliberative pluralism.

The ongoing detention of Omoyele Sowore and Ibrahim Aliyu Maisango, the Hausa activist known on social media as Bichiia Maisango, is a troubling signal that the Tinubu administration is either losing its democratic nerve or is allowing people acting in its name to drag it into the familiar cesspit of state intimidation.

Sowore is, of course, no stranger to state harassment. He has built a public life around provocation, resistance and confrontation with power. He can be intentionally abrasive, sometimes rhetorically excessive and almost always allergic to political conformity. But none of these is a crime. Democracies do not imprison citizens because their words offend the fragile ears of power. They do not turn presidential displeasure into a criminal justice project.

The charge against Sowore, stripped of its procedural clutter, is that he called President Tinubu a “criminal” on social media. The DSS reportedly demanded that he delete the post. He refused. The state then activated the Cybercrimes Act against him, like Buhari did a few years ago.

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Now he is in Kuje Correctional Centre after the court revoked his self-recognition bail and issued a bench warrant for his absence on June 16, even though he had appeared in court on June 15, when the court did not sit, informed court officials that he would be traveling to Lagos and requested a later date, only for the matter to be rescheduled for the very next day in what looked like an effort to ensnare him.

People can argue about Sowore’s tone. But the proper answer to harsh speech is more speech, not handcuffs. A president with Tinubu’s long history in opposition politics should know this more than most people. He benefitted from the moral economy of dissent. He used the oxygen of protest, media criticism and oppositional defiance to rise to national prominence. It would be a historic irony if, as president, he now helps to suffocate the very liberties that made his political career possible.

The case of Ibrahim Aliyu Maisango is even more disturbing because it is shrouded in the familiar opacity of Nigeria’s security state. His wife, Hauwa Mundi, says he was invited to DSS headquarters in Abuja on June 2, 2026, and detained after honoring the invitation. For two weeks, the family reportedly had no access to him. She was later allowed to see him but expressed concern about his health.

Maisango is not a bandit. He is not a terrorist. He is not known to lead an armed cell. He is only a Hausa activist whose social media advocacy centers on Hausa ethnic consciousness, the distinction between Hausa and Fulani identity, insecurity, northern leadership, banditry and what he considers the political marginalization of ordinary Hausa people in the North.

I have followed, studied and written about these questions for years. Although I have issues with Maisango’s idea of Hausa ethnic purism, which is sociologically and historically impossible, I have often said that the lazy, ahistorical “Hausa-Fulani” label is a political shorthand invented by the Southern press to simplify the complexity of Hausaphone northern Muslim identity. Read, among many articles I wrote on this, my January 9, 2016, column titled “Is There Such a Thing as ‘Hausa-Fulani’?”

Hausa and Fulani are distinct peoples with distinct histories, even though centuries of contact, Islam, intermarriage, commerce and state formation have created deep cultural entanglements between them. To insist on that distinction is not incitement. It is not treason. It is not a threat to national security. It is, at worst, a contestable claim in the marketplace of ideas. At best, it is a necessary correction of a historically sloppy elite vocabulary.

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If Maisango has called for violence, charge him publicly and let the evidence speak. If he has threatened anyone, put the threat before a judge. If he has broken a law, arraign him in open court. But detaining him in the shadows while unnamed officials mutter darkly about “dividing the country” is pure, unacceptable intimidation by insinuation.

Nigeria’s security agencies have perfected the art of treating thought as contraband. They arrest first, search for justification later and outsource explanation to anonymous whispers. When citizens ask why someone is being held, the response is often a fog of national security language designed to scare people away from scrutiny. That is how illegitimate and insecure states behave.

The DSS reportedly says it does not detain people without detention orders. That is not reassuring. A detention order is not a moral blank cheque. It is not a substitute for transparency. It does not answer the question about what exactly Maisango did. If his offense is serious enough to justify detention, it should be clear enough to state. If it is too embarrassing to state, then it is probably too flimsy to sustain.
There is a deeper danger here. The North is a graveyard of unasked questions. Entire communities are being emptied by bandits. Farmers pay taxes to terrorists. Villagers negotiate with kidnappers because the state has abandoned them. Traditional institutions have lost moral legitimacy in many places. Young people are angry, suspicious and politically restless. In such a climate, suppressing speech about Hausa identity, Fulani power, banditry and northern elite failure will only produce more resentment, drive debate underground, cause mutual suspicions to fester and convert grievances into conspiracies.

Tinubu should understand this. He was once on the receiving end of state repression. His political mythology is built around NADECO, exile, resistance and pro-democracy activism. His supporters still invoke June 12 as evidence of his democratic credentials. But June 12 and its symbolism mean nothing if the state can detain activists for speech, criminalize insult and hide behind security agencies when citizens demand accountability.

This is why Sowore and Maisango should be released. In Sowore’s case, the government should end this needless prosecution. A president who is daily called worse things by angry citizens should not be seen to be hiding behind the Cybercrimes Act to hound an activist. If Tinubu truly has the thick skin his admirers attribute to him, he should prove it by refusing to dignify insult with prosecution. Let Sowore speak. Let people judge him. That is how democracy works.

In Maisango’s case, the DSS should either charge him immediately in open court with a recognizable offense or release him without further delay. His health and access to family should not depend on the benevolence of security officials. He is a citizen, not a captive of imperial power.

The presidency also needs to send a clear message to security agencies that criticism of the president, ethnic self-definition, historical argument and social media advocacy are not crimes. Nigeria is already too fragile for the state to manufacture new enemies from citizens with strong opinions.

Tinubu still has a chance to show that the people who assured me in 2023 that he would not hound critics were not merely laundering wishful thinking as insider knowledge. He can show that his democratic credentials are not museum artifacts from the 1990s.

Release Sowore. Release Ibrahim Aliyu Maisango, known to his followers as Bichiia Maisango. Let the country breathe. Let citizens speak. Let arguments be defeated by better arguments, not by detention orders.

Kperogi is a renowned columnist and United States-based Professor of Journalism

Release Sowore and Hausa activist Maisango, By Farooq Kperogi

Opinion

Mob Justice and the Death of Malama Ummulkhair: A Test for Nigeria’s Rule of Law

Published

1 week ago

June 24, 2026

Trends Admin

MURIC Denounces Joint Statement With Fulani Group, Clarifies Identity Confusion With AMURIC

Mob Justice and the Death of Malama Ummulkhair: A Test for Nigeria’s Rule of Law

By Mallam Ibrahim Agunbiade

The brutal killing of Malama Ummulkhair, a respected Islamic teacher and mother of four in Maraban Jos, Kaduna State, is more than a tragic incident; it is a disturbing reminder of the grave dangers posed by mob justice, misinformation, and the erosion of the rule of law.

Reports indicate that Malama Ummulkhair was accused of attempting to steal children—an allegation that had not been verified before an enraged mob descended on her. Although security operatives reportedly rescued her and took her into police custody, the situation took a horrifying turn when the crowd allegedly overpowered security personnel, dragged her from custody, and killed her.

What makes this tragedy even more heartbreaking is the story behind the victim. A woman who left her home to attend an Islamic programme after exchanging farewell words with her husband never returned. A devoted mother and teacher who spent her life educating and nurturing children became a victim of the very society she served.

This incident raises profound questions that Nigerians must confront. How can an unverified accusation become a death sentence? Who granted ordinary citizens the authority to act as judge, jury, and executioner? Most importantly, how could an individual already under police protection become vulnerable to mob violence?

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Those responsible for this heinous act must face the full weight of the law. Every individual found to have participated in the attack should be identified, arrested, and prosecuted. Equally important, any security personnel whose negligence, compromise, or failure of duty contributed to the breach of custody must be thoroughly investigated and held accountable.

The protection of individuals in custody is a fundamental obligation of law enforcement agencies. If citizens can be forcibly removed from police custody and killed by a mob, it signals a dangerous breakdown in public security and threatens the very foundations of justice.

Beyond accountability, there is a compelling humanitarian responsibility. The government should consider providing comprehensive support for the children left behind by Malama Ummulkhair. Educational scholarships, welfare assistance, and opportunities that secure their future would not erase their loss, but they would demonstrate society’s commitment to standing with victims of injustice.

There is also a need to preserve her memory. Malama Ummulkhair should not become another forgotten name in a long list of victims of mob violence. Appropriate measures should be taken to honour her legacy and ensure that her story serves as a lasting reminder of the consequences of lawlessness and the importance of justice.

Sadly, this is not an isolated case. Nigeria has witnessed several instances where rumours, suspicion, and collective anger have led to the deaths of innocent people. The killing of Deborah Samuel, who was lynched following allegations linked to religious sentiments, remains one of the most painful examples of how mob action can destroy lives and undermine justice.

These incidents underscore a sobering reality: a society where accusations replace evidence is a society where no one is truly safe. Today, the victim may be someone falsely accused of a crime; tomorrow, it could be any innocent citizen caught in the tide of public outrage.

The fight against jungle justice requires a collective response. Government institutions, security agencies, religious leaders, traditional rulers, community elders, civil society organisations, and ordinary citizens must continue to condemn and resist mob violence in all its forms. Neither faith, culture, nor tradition justifies the taking of human life without due process.

Justice is a cornerstone of every civilised society. No allegation, regardless of its severity, gives anyone the right to kill. The law exists to investigate accusations, establish facts, and determine guilt or innocence.

Malama Ummulkhair’s death must not become another forgotten tragedy. Instead, it should serve as a turning point—a moment that compels Nigeria to choose law over lawlessness, justice over vengeance, and humanity over mob brutality.

May her soul rest in peace, and may her family find strength, comfort, and the justice they deserve.

Mob Justice and the Death of Malama Ummulkhair: A Test for Nigeria’s Rule of Law

Opinion

Oluwo, Elebuibon and Terror war

Published

2 weeks ago

June 22, 2026

Trends Admin

Oluwo, Elebuibon and Terror war

Lasisi Olagunju

The Oluwo of Iwo, Oba Abdulrasheed Adewale Akanbi, recently threw a challenge at Yoruba spiritual leaders. His target was the forest where terrorists are holding schoolchildren and teachers abducted from Oriire Local Government Area of Oyo State.

“All the Babalawo, Araba and Alfas who are always boasting of one charm or another, the time has come to use your powers to rescue the abducted children of Oriire. If money is the problem, I will provide it. Or are your charms effective only when it is time to afflict innocent people? Isé ti dé. War is here. The children are still in the bush.”

The oba did not stop there. He mentioned Chief Yemi Elebuibon and a few other prominent custodians of Yoruba spirituality by name. It was the sort of challenge that would earn applause in the marketplace. Many heard it and nodded in agreement; some clapped for the Oba. After all, if spiritual powers are as potent as their possessors claim, why should they not be deployed against kidnappers and terrorists?

But there was a problem. The challenge may have sounded attractive; it was not one that an Oba should throw.

Chief Elebuibon, like every able elder of Yorubaland, did not leave his vocal cords at the launderette. He responded with characteristic wit and lyrical force.

“What Oluwo said was not properly said,” he declared. “He should have called on pastors, mallams and babalawo alike to help. We know how things are done in Yorubaland. We do not invite farmers to deliberate on warfare, nor do we summon traders to teach farming. No one fights a war with a babalawo’s staff, just as no one uses an ìrùkèrè to sack a town.

“If you see a babalawo at the war front, he is there to prepare the ground for victory, not to fight the battle himself. Warriors fight wars; babalawo perform the duties assigned to them by tradition.”

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A professor friend listened to Oluwo. She listened to Chief Elebuibon. Then she exclaimed: “What stops the Oluwo himself from leading the war as the kings of old did?”

“That is true,” I replied.

Oduduwa came to Ile-Ife not as a social commentator but as a conqueror. His descendants inherited crowns and swords together. In old Oyo, Alaafin Ajaka lost his throne because he could neither confront nor defeat the enemies threatening his kingdom. Only after the death of his warlike brother, Sango, did he return to power and redeem his reputation on the battlefield.

If, therefore, the Oluwo believes the forests of Yorubaland are overrun by terrorists, perhaps the challenge should begin closer to home. Let the king do as his forefathers did. Let him enter the forest and emerge with victory. Ogun dé! The war drums are sounding.

Yet, that is precisely why an Oba should be careful with challenges such as the one the Oluwo threw at priests, pastors and mallams.

An Oba may possess the mystery of Ọbatálá, who “sits on the skin of an ant.” Yet he is not permitted to drag a priest about like a bag of beans. They should work together.

The Yoruba say that the crown is not merely worn on the head; it is carried in the mouth. Once a king speaks, his words cease to be ordinary words. They acquire the weight of the throne. That is why our fathers insisted that certain utterances belong to the marketplace and must never escape from the palace gates.

The palace and the street are not the same institution. The marketplace thrives on noise; the palace survives on measured dignity. An Oba may be criticised, but he must never sound like a critic. He may be angry, but he must never appear quarrelsome. The throne is diminished when it descends into the arena of everyday disputation.

As the Yoruba wisely observe, ọba kì í jà; aṣojú rẹ̀ ńii jà fún un (the king does not fight; his emissaries fight on his behalf). They also say: ọba kì í péjọ; ìjọ ni ń péjọ fun ọba (the king does not go seeking gatherings; gatherings come seeking the king).

The late economics historian, Professor Wale Oyemakinde, captured this ideal brilliantly in his ‘The impact of nineteenth century warfare on Yoruba traditional chieftaincy.’ He wrote that the Yoruba Oba was “distinct and distinguished.” He was Kabiyesi—one whose authority could not be casually challenged; Alaiyeluwa—the earthly representative of divine order. He was expected to be the eyes and ears of the people, the bridge between the living and their ancestors, the custodian of peace and, when necessary, the inspirer of war.

For that reason, the Oba’s conduct was governed by restraints as much as by privileges. Oyemakinde reminds us that while all roads led to the king’s palace, the king hardly travelled. While subjects visited him, he did not go about visiting subjects. While others paid homage, he paid homage to no one. Distance preserved dignity; restraint protected majesty.

William Shakespeare understood this burden of kingship. In Henry IV, Part II, as the king broods over the burdens and anxieties of office, he contrasts his own restless nights with the tranquil sleep of his lowliest subjects and concludes: “Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown.” The crown is heavy not because it grants power but because it demands discipline and sacrifice. A king must often resist saying what every other person is free to say.

That is why Oluwo’s challenge, though entertaining, sounded misplaced. There are words that may come from a warrior, a politician, a priest or a columnist. There are words that should not come from the throne.

The Yoruba compare the king to the eagle perched atop the iroko tree. From that lofty height, the eagle sees farther than every other bird. Yet it does not, like the restless ẹyẹ ẹ̀ga (weaver bird) or the ever-chattering ibaka (canary), flutter noisily from branch to branch advertising its presence. The eagle’s authority lies in its stillness; its majesty in its composure.

The throne is diminished when it competes with the marketplace or the cyberspace. Whenever a king abandons the elevated language of the palace for the rough-and-tumble of public controversy, he risks exchanging majesty for momentary. But applause is like the crackle of dry leaves in harmattan—briefly loud, then gone with the first dews of dawn.