Ooni Adeyeye Ogunwisi

By Tunde Odesola

Nature was enveloped in darkness as dawn quickened in the womb of time, pushing towards the birth canal, carrying on its head daylight.

The cock, being nature’s timekeeper, knew the water was about to break. So, it sounded the flute in its throat, cookooorooocooo! And nature stirred awake.

Upon hearing the cock crow at the crack of dawn, the fox bolted madly up the mountain, panting and shivering. Again, the cock flapped its wings and crowed. The fox ran farther up the mountain, dreading death.

The cock jumped down from the branch of the iroko and went after the fox. The fox ran and ran and ran, and came to a precipice, stopping to weigh its options: fall from a mountaintop or death by fire. It chose the second option because, with fire, escape was still possible.

So, it waited as the cock strutted majestically toward it.

Resplendent in gold, brown and black plumage, the cock smiled as it neared the shivering fox which laid flat on all fours, sinking its claws into the ground, wondering what language the earthworm speaks that makes the earth open up.

“Is this how far you can run?” the cock teased.

“I wasn’t running, sir,” the fox replied.

“I know you weren’t running, you were flying,” the cock said, asking, “Why’re you always running away from me when we should be friends?”

Fox: “It’s the fire! The fire!

Cock: The fire? Which fire?

Fox: The fire on your head!

Cock: Fire!? Fire on my head?

Fox: Yes, sir! It’s right there, burning. See! See it! On your head!

The cock touched its comb with its leg. “Is this what you call fire?” “Yes,” the fox replied, still terrified. The cock burst into a fit of laughter, tears rolling down its eyes. “Foolish fellow, this is no fire. It’s my comb; come touch it, touch it,” the cock said, moving towards the fox.

The fox felt the meaty comb of the cock, took a deep breath and yanked off the cock’s head, crunching the comb and cranium.

I knew when the Ooni of Ife, Alayeluwa Oba Adeyeye Ogunwusi, the Ojaja II, was at King’s College, Ile-Ife, for the three-month seclusive tutoring in ‘Ipebi’, where royal secrets and etiquettes are taught to would-be kings.

However, I do not know how long he stayed there. I also do not know if Ooni Ogunwusi passed all the courses on rites of passage, discretion, dignity and tact before he was released to mount the throne of his forebears.

But being a legend himself, I’m certain the Ooni knows the legend of the cock and fox I just told.

As the second-in-command to the gods, I’m sure the king can see through the stupidity of the cock. As a wise monarch, who knows the importance of bloodline and lineage, I know Oba Enitan is likely to spare a thought for the generations of the cock that has gone down the throats of foxes into oblivion.

Being a true Yoruba son, it doesn’t lie in my mouth to say many of the public displays of Ooni Ogunwusi fall short of royal expectation and dignity. I shouldn’t say that. Because no one rebukes the masquerader when it misses the road; you say, my lord, the road you took is a cul-de-sac. “A kii so fun eegun wipe o s’ina. Baba, ko s’ona nibe yen ni won n wi.” Who am I to teach the Ooni how to be a king?

In the olden days, Yoruba beaded crowns were Almighties. They combine executive powers with judicial authority and legislative functions in a trinity of crown, sword and sceptre. Because they ensured security, monarchs of yore worked closely with hunters who double as police and army. Perhaps, the immediate past Ooni of Ife, Oba Okunade Sijuwade, ‘jingbinni bi atekun’, supernaturally saw that my forebears were hunters, so he made me, an obscure subject, a distant little friend.

After watching the controversial video of how Ooni Ogunwusi exchanged greetings with a Nollywood old-timer, Pete Edochie, and another Nollywood veteran, Kanayo O. Kanayo, I decided to peep into the lives of royals in and outside Nigeria – to see if the Ooni desecrated the stool of Oduduwa by his incessant star-struck public displays.

Memory lane. In what appears like a coronation celebration in 1980 when Sijuwade became Ooni, an old video shows a brand new Oba and his guests being serenaded by Juju superstar, King Sunny Ade. In a combination of prostration and kneeling, KSA and his boys sang all through the time Sijuwade was on the dance floor. Neither KSA nor any of his boys got up all through the performance.

Ooni Sijuwade was simply majestic; he didn’t gyrate, he was just there, swaying, solid and confident, soaking in the songs of praise.

Nobody dared ‘spray’ Baba Tokunbo with money. But guests sprayed the queen dancing with him. Everyone maintained a respectable distance from Sijuwade, nobody turned Sijuwade’s ears into a microphone, neither did he behave like an usher or MC, ushering people to seats, telling them about the latest isi-ewu joints in town and where to get ladies in desperate search of husbands – like Oba Atilawi.

In England, there are protocols that even the high and mighty must observe when they are in the presence of the throne of England. Former US First Lady, Michelle Obama, caused a stir, in 2009, when she put her arm around Queen Elizabeth. You don’t touch the Queen!

There are other non-steadfast rules to observe when you come before the Queen. You don’t show up empty-handed. You should bring a gift. “Ko si gberu mi laafin,” is a Yoruba proverb that equates to this English royal protocol. No one carries goods out of the palace, be it in England or Yoruba land. But you can bring gifts into the palace.

You must stand at attention when the Queen enters the room. Don’t eat before she does. Don’t leave before the does. Never turn your back on the Queen. You don’t call her by her first name or nickname. Speak only the Queen speaks to you. A lady must curtsey (bend at the knees) while a man must bow. These same rules apply to the King of England.

“Oba kii m’eje, iyi ni oba n fi ori bibe se,” says a Yoruba proverb. The king doesn’t drink blood, he beheads to affirm his glory.

Modern royalty, some may argue, is an extension of feudalism. Feudalism was abolished on August 4, 1789. But royalty has survived, albeit, with one kidney, one lung and an enlarged heart. In Nigeria, kings, queens, regents and the palace are the custodians of culture and tradition. It goes to say that each tribal royalty has its dos and don’ts.

In the second part of this article, I shall analyse Ooni Ogunwusi’s unkingly display when he publicly met some celebrities, particularly when he became the MC during the birthday of a celebrity named Elizabeth Itunuayo Jack-Rich.

Once upon a time, before money displaced Ifa in the Land of Oduduwa, decency was the crest on the Yoruba crown. This was before government’s filthy hands slowly opened the palace gate, grabbed the glittering crown and tore off the crest. So, the crown, crest-broken, tumbled into the mud, crestfallen.

Étiquette is not strange to monarchy. The word, ‘Étiquette’ was born in the French foremost palace at Versailles during the reign of King Louis XIV in the 1600s.

Every summer, King Louis invited the folk, who lived around his palace, for a big celebration. After each celebration, it was noticed that guests defiled the environment. They plucked the flowers, swam in the fountain, walked on the grass, littered the lawns, and laid to waste the entire palace grounds.

This got the king thinking. There must be a solution to the mess! So, he called his courtiers to a brainstorming session. Together, they devised a strategy of putting up little signs such as ‘Walk not on the grass’, ‘Leave the flowers to blossom’, ‘Don’t litter’, and ‘Fountain, not swimming pool’, at strategic points in the palace.

Thus, etymologically speaking, the noun, ‘etiquette’, which is a cautionary nugget, means ‘little signs’. In the general sense of its meaning today, however, etiquette means the customary code of polite behaviour required by good breeding in society or among members of a particular profession or group.

Etiquette is the fragrance of decency. Decency doesn’t illuminate the differences in creed, colour and class. It clothes kings and peasants in dignity but disrobes the bombastic, the lousy and the thoughtless. I daresay decency frowns whenever a clown wears a crown.

Though today’s palace might have resident fools, as it was in Shakespearean times, foolish thoughts and actions, however, shouldn’t have permanent residency in the palace. The king must live above fools, not among fools, as we see today.

When he became king on October 26, 2015, at 41 years, Ooni Ogunwusi wasn’t the youngest in the history of Yoruba monarchy. That record belonged to Mary Stuart, the Queen of Scotland, who ascended the throne when she was six days old. Yes, six days.

Mary, who became queen in 1542 when her father, King James V of Scotland, died, was also the great-niece of King Henry VIII of England, making her eligible for the English throne, too.

It is also in the recorded history of Western aristocracy that Edward VI became king at the age of nine when his father, King Henry VIII, died.

Back home to Nigeria, the Awujale of Ijebu kingdom, Oba Sikiru Adetona, the Ogbagba Agbotewole II, was only 26 years old when he mounted the throne of his forebears in April 1960, and has, so far, chalked up 63 years of glorious reign, with birds chirping like birds, and rats squeaking like rats.

The 1980 edition of the Guinness Book of World Records named the Obi of Agbor, Dein Keagborekuzi I, the youngest king in the world at the time. Born June 29, 1977, Keagborekuzi became king when he was two and a half years old, succeeding his father.

Nigeria has more unnoisy princes who became kings at pretty young ages. The Obi of Ubulu-Uku kingdom of Aniocha-South Local Government Area of Delta State, King Chukwuka Akaeze, was crowned at the age of 18. The king is now in his early 20s.

Born in 2003, the Arujale Ojima of Okeluse kingdom in Ose Local Government Area of Ondo State, Oba Oloyede Adeyeoba, was made king as a secondary school teenager in 2019, after his father joined his ancestors.

In January 2020, the youngest king in contemporary Nigeria emerged when a 10-year-old prince, Akubuisi Okonwko, was coronated the Olanme II of Iyiora Anam kingdom of Anambra-West Local Government Area of Anambra State, following his father’s passing.

The stool of the Ooni of Ife in Yoruba land isn’t first among equals. It’s the first without equals. A 1903 journey of Ooni Adelekan Sijuwade, Olubuse I, the grandfather of Ooni Sijuwade Olubose II, buttresses my assertion.

That year, Ooni Olubuse I was on a visit to Lagos to rule on whether the Oba Elepe of Epe was entitled to wear a beaded crown. The unheard-of journey to Lagos shook the whole of Yoruba land to its very foundations as all Yoruba kings and princes, as a mark of respect, vacated their thrones throughout the Ooni’s sojourn to Lagos.

A gazette by the colonial government said, “And when he finally gave his verdict, presumably through an interpreter, he had his back to the colonial governor since no mortal, not even the representative of the English monarch, could behold his face.”

This was the tradition Ooni Okunade Olubuse II inherited from the Ooni of Ife and Governor of Western Nigeria, Oba Adesoji Aderemi, his predecessor, and which he (Okunade) preserved till he breathed his last.

No Nollywood character will attempt to shake hands with the great Aderemi or the majestic Olubuse because you can’t even get close to either of them. Your outstretched hand will freeze when you hear Okunade’s messengers chant his panegyrics, “Ò y’ọmọ l’óko làlà sọnù, Ò sún’mọ lẹ̀, sún’mọ ẹní, Ò kun’mọ lósùn, kun ‘mọ láta.” What does this mean? The fearsomeness of majesty.

After the controversy generated by Oba Ogunwusi excitedly shaking hands with Edochie and Kanayo, I guess Yoruba elders and leaders would’ve called and told him that the Ooni is the spectacle itself, not a cheerleader; the Adimula is the ‘enití wónwò, tí kìí wòran’.

Just like the Yoruba, the Igbo are highly endowed culturally – the reason why the Igbo still revere kola nut, wine-carrying and bride price etc, despite the influence of Christian and Islamic religions on their culture and tradition.

At best, I’ll rather Edochie and Kanayo courtesy to the Ooni without shaking hands with him because curtseying is not against Igbo culture. By shaking hands with the duo in Igbo tradition, the Ooni subsumes Yoruba greeting under Igbo greeting. No Ooni has ever done that.

At Jack-Rich’s birthday party, the Ooni overreached himself by taking up the role of a stand-up comedian, holding the hands of the celebrant, and dancing with her.

The Ooni is too visible on the Owambe radar. The stealthiness of the tiger is not cowardice. In numerous videos of his meeting with Davido, Phyno, Wasiu Ayinde etc, the Ooni was star-struck, overexcited and overjoyed. It should be the other way around. It’s Davido, Phyno, Wasiu Ayinde and co who should quake at the sight of the Ooni.

Learning is a lifetime endeavour. Ife kingmakers still have a job to do on the Ooni.

When the Ooni sees a celebrity, he shouldn’t be the one to jump up to greet or try to find a seat for the celebrity. Nobody walks into Ooni Sijuwade’s presence, nobody. Even when Sijuwade responded to me, a journalist on the phone, saying, “Omo mi, oba kii se politics. I’m not involved in politics. Nigbawo lo ma wa s’Ife ko wa mu champagne?, I still trembled and bowed.

Presidents came to him, governors memorised his number, ministers and senators flooded his palace. He respected himself. He didn’t show up everywhere like a white elephant. He ran after nobody. They ran after him. That was the way he set out on his kingship from the get-go in 1980.

That was the Ooni.

Tunde Odesola is a senior journalist, columnist with The PUNCH newspaper and a guest writer in INFO DAILY. This article  first appeared in The Punch.