Last month, popular Christian gospel singer Tope Alabi ignited some controversy when she appropriated a greeting associated with babalawos, while singing in a church. Several Christians defended her but did not assuage her critics who insisted she was encroaching. There is a reason Christians do not conduct their services in Arabic, they argued. What I found interesting about the exchange that followed her was how the Christians that habitually condemn practices associated with ìsèse also ransack their wardrobe to extract symbols that will enrich Christianity. The irony of the simultaneous diabolisation and covetousness by those in that category is perhaps best expressed in how they sing that “Babalawo power is powerless power” on Sunday and “àború àboyè” on Monday.
The contradiction of attributing power to indigenous African religious practices even while making a show of denouncing is no different from the other Abrahamic religion in Nigeria: Islam. The recent debacle in Ilorin, Kwara State, expresses how even the dominant religions are still haunted by the order of religious knowledge they demonise as “idolatrous.” You must have read about the incident. An Obatala priestess, Yeye Ajesikemi Olokun Omolara, had circulated fliers announcing a three-day event aimed at celebrating Olokun festival. Then some Muslims accosted her saying the festival cannot hold in Ilorin because their culture is “Islam.”
Honestly, when the news was first reported, my thought was that she was harassed by some miscreants who must be lashing out because the strangulating Tinubu economy had robbed them of legitimate employment. When these men added that they were acting upon the orders of their Emir Ibrahim Sulu-Gambari, I still did not believe them. A whole emir cannot be that obtuse, I thought.
It was not until the emir’s spokesperson, one Abdulazeez Arowona, penned a rejoinder to the criticism of Wole Soyinka on the issue that it finally occurred to me that I had been overestimating the reasonability of these people. The article, meant to ridicule the laureate’s intervention in the matter, was such a shabbily conceived and poorly scribbled composition of ill-logic and inelegant ramble. For an article written on behalf of an institution like the emirate, it was either belittling of the status of the emirate or a reflection of the vacuity of the so-called “traditional” leaders. You can convincingly argue it both ways.
Not once did the article offer itself the courtesy of reflecting on the key issues of rightness and legality. Since they have not thought about it, let me put it to them directly: what gives the emir the right to infringe on a Nigerian citizen’s expression of her religious rights? The rejoinder was so thoughtlessly arrogant that it spared itself no time to contemplate that the emir has neither the constitutional or even moral power to declare Yeye Ajisekemi’s celebration of Olokun festival as going beyond her boundaries. Who drew those boundaries and by which authority? The only person overreaching himself here is the emir who mistakes his ceremonial role for constituted authority.
They tried to pass off the emir’s overstepping of his own boundaries too by stating that the festival had to be stopped in the interest of peace. How often have we not heard that same nonsense of asking people to give up their inalienable rights just so that some maniacs would not descend into their characteristic orgy of violence? Meanwhile, in that same gabble the Emir’s letter writer issued, they stated that Ilorin has been so harmonious that some non-indigenes have made the place a home. Some sentences later, they contradicted themselves by saying Yeye Ajisekemi had to be stopped because the celebration of that festival could lead to an outbreak of violence in different parts of the country. So which one is true? Ilorin people are peace-loving liberals or small-minded bigots searching for a reason to set the city on flames? If they are open-minded enough to live harmoniously with their neighbours as he states, why would there be an outbreak of violence simply because another religion staged their festival?
The emir and his letter writer should stop telling themselves that they live in a state of harmony if they cannot trust their people to be mature enough to mind their own religious business. A place where people will potentially kill each other over a festival is a lawless jungle, a dystopia. That is also an indictment of the state governor, the chief security officer of the state. If he cannot control the fanatics in your domain, then over whom does he have any authority?
When Arowona would spoil his Oga’s paltry case pátápátá, he boasted that the emir was an ex-judge, an incorruptible one to boot. Because Nigerians tend to speak of “corruption” in largely economic terms, people like Arowona reductively think of “incorruptibility” as not accepting bribes rather than its larger import as abuse of power or debasement of processes. That was why he could make that logical somersault that ascribed incorruptibility to a judge (a former one, yes) who stopped a religious festival. If Sulu-Gambari could not respect the fundamental human rights of Yeye Ajisekemi to exercise her freedom of conscience, what does it say about the arc of his career as a judge? On what ethics would a man like that have based his professional judgment when something as basic as freedom of worship eludes him? He did not need to have collected money to pervert justice before he could be termed “corrupt.”
Violating the rights of another is “corruption” in itself. Bringing up the emir’s professional past, unfortunately, only highlighted one of the many tragedies of Nigeria: a judge that lacks the concept of justice and a traditional ruler with no regard for tradition. Sulu-Gambari is proof—if you ever needed one—that not even education, not professional training, or even international exposure are enough to cure willful narrow-mindedness. What a shame!
For the emir to have stooped that low to stop an Olokun festival in his domain, he and his council of advisers must have been rattled by the symbolic power of ìsèse practices. All the drama could not just have been because their religion forbids “idolatory.” If it were, they would look away or lock themselves in their houses while the festival lasts. For the emir to disgrace himself this way, it must be because ìsèse rites carry a seductive force that threatens the political and spiritual power he embodies. Unfortunately, he played himself. If he had left the woman alone to do her thing, the festival would have come and gone by now. But, due to their own indiscretion, they are forced into self-justificatory modes. It will not be surprising if the woman starts getting patronage from the city’s inhabitants. Some of the people they thought they shield from witnessing ìsèse will reason that if the festival could bother the emir that much, there must be something to it.
Since this issue started, I have seen a couple of videos by some alfas vituperating over Yeye Ajisekemi’s choice to stage the festival. They based their contention with her on the idea that their city’s ethos has already been ceded to Islam and they will not allow anyone to pollute it with idols. Looking at them reminded me of the reputation of Ilorin as home to some of the most profound Islamic scholars and mystics. Watching some of these people shaking with rage over the Olokun festival was rather demystifying. So, with all their reputation as devoted practitioners and powerful mystics, they were not even secure enough to wave off an Olokun festival in their city as DOA? More intriguingly, it took only one woman with a flyer to unravel their fragility. At this point, Yeye Ajisekemi should be declared a national hero. Just let me hear anyone sing “Babalawo power, powerless power!’ one more time!
