Okun People and Rhythm of ‘Ijapa Oko Yannibo’

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Almost eight years ago, I told this story in my regular column in Kogi Agenda. At that time, it was an early warning bell for Capt. Idris Wada, who just emerged as the governor of our state. The call was for him to be mindful of praise singers, who were likely to sing him out of office after his first term. The call was prophetic. Today, the very humble former governor is still licking his wounds .

This time around, I am telling this same story to the elders and political big wigs of Okun land, the same way I did to the aviation guru, whose airline EAS, I nominated for a national award of the League of Airport and Aviation Correspondents in 1996. It was a story from my late maternal  grandmother, Deborah Jaiye, (Nee Olutekunbi) a.k.a. Deborah Keke of blessed memory.

I was in secondary school when mama died in 1979 or 1980. My siblings, my cousins and I were close to mama and she showed us immeasurable quantity of love. When we were growing up, she taught us many rhymes and moonlight tales that hit the cord of great intelligence. Mama was my first teacher, who taught me in my preschool days, the great Yoruba philosophical rhyme ‘Ise ni Oogun Ise’. That poem, which underscores the dignity of labour, made great impact in my life as a child. Bible was Mama’s best literature. Mama, through ‘Eko Agba’ could read her bible well, at a time when the best I could do with reading was to call letter “Y” a catapult and “?” a fishing hook. Mama taught us to memorise many scriptures including “Emi yio gbe oju mi si ori oke wonni”  (Psalm 121).

Mama had many goats. Whenever she killed any of them, (as she did often when her last born, Joshua Olopa, was around in his enviable police uniform, with a fashionable belt across his chest from shoulder to waist) we can be sure of goat-head pepper soup. Other times we ate Mama’s goat, was when any of the two Bedford and Austen lorries, belonging to either Alatako or Aliu Arujeje, knocked down one of the goats. I remember with nostalgia, how our big cousin, Aunty Alaba, would compel us to sing the tune of I.K. Dairo, “I remember my darling” before we were served. Mama would always insist on Psalms and moonlight tales.

One moonlight tale that remained fresh in my memory among those that my grand mother told us was that of the Tortoise and the Elephant. My love for the  story may not be unconnected with with it’s captivating rhythm “A o merin joba; Ereku ewele”. It was the story of a mighty elephant that ruled the jungle. It’s fame was so much that it filtered into the kingdom of men where the elephant was acknowledged as the king of animals. Another creature, the tortoise was envious of the elephant. In furry, the tortoise went to the kingdom of men, to register his disapproval of the recognition accorded the elephant, insisting that he (the tortoise) is the real king and that, the elephant is one of his errand boys, who take order from him. To prove its might over the elephant, he promised to order the elephant to submit itself to the kingdom of men for suya if only they agree to make him (tortoise) the king of the jungle, the deal was sealed. The next day, the tortoise rushed to the jungle to cajole Mr Elephant, praising him to the High Heaven as king like no any other. He suggested to the elephant that it was high time its kingdom extended to the world of men and that he has perfected arrangement for the coronation of elephant as king of men the next weekend.

Mr Elephant believed and made a big flowing gown for the ceremony. Meanwhile, before the set time, Tortoise told the community of men to dig a deep pit, into which he promised to dump the elephant. He covered the pit with a well decorated mat and set a thrown at one end of the pit.

On the set date, the tortoise arranged an orchestral to sing elephant to the  grave; the song was: ‘A o merin joba; Ereku ewele’. The elephant was highly elated at the sight of the well decorated throne. He was dancing and leaping to the supposed throne. Before he realised the trick, he was already in the pit, and all shades of knives descended on him. Mr Elephant sold his honour cheaply to the cajole of a very cunning Ijapa Tiroko Oko Yannibo.

Today, I see the Okun elders are being cajoled or do I say they are engrossed in self-cajole of fake promises that power will be handed over to them in 2023. This is the kind of promises we have embraced before which ended as Greek gifts. Even, if Governor Bello made the promise in by secret, he made it abundantly clear, in the public, that he is not God and that he cannot play God by promising any section of the state power. He is right. Power belongs to God. This makes me wonder why our people will fall so cheaply to a cajole that has no substance. I hope a four-year wait will not become twelve.

I just wonder, a man you can not extract commitment from, now that he desperately needs you, how you will dialogue with him when he gets what he wants.

If all these are not mere hocus pocus:

1) Why did our elders not insist on the convocation of state conference  for us to work our rotation pattern before election?

2) Why did Hon Faleke not insist on nominating one of his followers from East as running mate instead of Onoja? If Mr Onoja has things going his way as a Chief of Staff, how much more when he becomes a Deputy Governor?

This could be a case of  A o merin joba, Ereku ewele for those embracing the 4+4 finger style. I am sure they did not know what civil servants in this state passed through in the last four years. I am not sure any man of good conscience will bargain for even an extra year of what we’ve had in the last four years.

What this state needs now is total deliverance from the monster of the last four years. That calamity and affliction must not befall us the second time.

For now the rhythm in my lips for my people in Okun nation is: A o merin joba, Ereku ewele .

– Pastor Stanley Ajileye is the Chairman, Publicity  Committee, PDP Gubernatorial Campaign Council (Ijumu).


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