25. Lọkọde

Many years ago, in a land far away, in the town of Ogudu, lived a young woman called Lọkọde. Lọkọde was the only child of her parents who had passed away, the father long before the mother. There were no other relatives; she was alone in the world. Lọkọde missed her parents very much, but any time she remembered her mother’s parting words, she did not feel too alone in the world:

“You’ll find a man who will love and cherish you, who’ll take care of you, and you won’t feel alone in the world. I’m not leaving you my child, even though I’m dying. Whenever you’re in trouble just call out for me in your mind, Lọkọde, and ask me to help you. You can never tell – it might work!”

Lọkọde spent most of her time taking care of the small farm her mother left her. It was hard work, and expensive to run; her mother had only one farm help, but Lọkọde could not even afford to keep him on after she died.

This was how it happened that Gbọlade, who lived next door with his wife, and who had noticed Lọkọde and liked her quiet ways, was the one who lent her a hand with the farm.

“You’re too young to have to cope with all this work. You need a man around! Let me help you until you can afford to hire someone.

Lọkọde was very grateful for the help and support she got from an older experienced man for her farm. She was also very happy for the attention Gbọlade paid her – the interest he took in everything else concerning her. Very soon the two of them realized that they had a lot in common, and gradually they fell in love.
“I’ve never met anyone like you before. We just seem to fit together. I see myself in you, and I’m sure you see yourself in me. We have similar tastes, similar interests; we see life the same way. There’s nothing we can’t say to each other. Marry me”, Gbọlade said to Lọkọde one day.
“What about your wife?” Lọkọde replied, scared.
“When I explain my situation to you, you’ll see that you have nothing to worry about in that connection.
“Jade and I made a big mistake in marrying each other. She can’t get used to my way of life, to the kind of person I am. The marriage is shaky and both parties know it, and it’s just a matter of time. In fact, Jade seems to have found someone else who can give her what she wants, and she’s just waiting for him to propose to her. We’re living separate lives”.
“Why don’t you get a divorce then? Surely that’s the logical thing to do”.
“Jade doesn’t want one until she’s sure her lover will marry her, because she has nowhere to go. She can’t stand on her own two feet; she has always been dependent on others, you see. Her father and mother are dead, and none of her remaining relatives would take her in. Jade is disliked by most people, including her relatives, because of the way she behaves. Most people, including her relatives want nothing to do with her because of this.
“What are you going to do then?”
“Like I said Jade has nowhere to go, and this is why I’ve not turned her out, despite the way she treats me. I don’t have the heart to do so. I’m not saying that I’m perfect. Nobody is, but she has a lover, for goodness sake, and flaunts this fact, and has threatened to leave me. As I’ve said she’s just waiting for him to propose to her, and then BINGO! Can you blame me for whatever I do?”
“I see…”.

“At any rate, I’ll not be committing a crime in taking on a second wife! I won’t be the first or the last to do so, although I’d rather have you as my only wife. I’m sure that will happen, and who knows, maybe even soon. All I know is that I can’t wait to marry you! I’ll protect you. I’ll take care of you. Let me take care of you. I’ll never let Jade ill-treat you”.

Everything Gbọlade said to Lọkọde about his wife and their relationship was true. He did not get on with his wife, and people around them knew about the situation of the couple – knew that they could break up any moment.

“She’s such an unpleasant woman – a nasty piece of work. How Gbọlade puts up with her I don’t know”, was a common comment about Jade.

Jade was known to be a troublemaker, to knock heads. She was a gossip, always putting her nose into the affairs of other people. She went out a lot, was aware of what went on in the lives of people in her town, and used this to her advantage.
Lọkọde and Gbọlade were the opposite of Jade. Unlike Jade who was disliked by most people, Lọkọde and Gbọlade were well-liked although they did not go out much, preferring a quiet, family life.

“Jade doesn’t understand Gbọlade’s worth”, people said again and again.

Jade was not happy about Gbọlade’s wanting to marry Lọkọde and started to look for ways of stopping it. When he told her about Lọkọde he did not expect her reaction because he knew that she did not really care.

“You can’t possibly bring another woman here”.

“Why not? We both know that there’s nothing left of our marriage”.

Jade could not deny that but was thinking “Even if there’s nothing left, I don’t want her here. Bring her here and I’ll make her life hell, so that she’ll leave”.

In those days, it was not an uncommon practice for the men of the land to have two wives – ‘iyaale’ (the first wife) and ‘iyawo’ (the second wife) – and to put the ‘iyawo’ at the ‘iyaale”’s command. The ‘iyaale’’s word then became the rule, so much so that the ‘iyawo’ could be sent packing if she ‘displeased’ her ‘iyaale’ too much. This practice was perhaps a peace-offering on the husband’s part for bringing another woman into the marital home.

Not surprisingly countless of unscrupulous women had been known to abuse this practice. They would ill-treat the ‘iyawo’ – leaving her to do all or most of the work in the house and expecting her to put up with it in silence or face the consequences. Their word became the rule. An ‘iyawo’ in this kind of situation would naturally try to keep on the good side of her ‘iyaale’, and not dare to report any wrong doings towards her to the husband, in case there were repercussions.

Initially Jade decided that if Gbọlade was going to go through with marrying Lọkọde, she would make Lọkọde’s life hell by exercising her rights as the iyaale – exploiting the ‘iyaale’ and ‘iyawo’ situation fully, so that Lọkọde would leave, but she was not convinced that it would work. Not every husband subscribed to this. Certainly, Gbọlade was not likely to.

“This is not an option. I have to find other ways of getting rid of this woman”, Jade said to herself, racking her brains.
Gbọlade continued to ask Lọkọde to marry him, and after resisting again and again, and Gbọlade reassuring her again and again, she finally agreed.

“I hope that marrying you will not be the end of me!” she said jokingly. “Jade hates me”, Lọkọde continued, “and who knows what she might do to prevent us marrying each other, or if I am married to you”.

“No, don’t think that way. She can’t do anything to you with me around you. At worst, she might want to lord it over you when we’re married – the iyaale and iyawo scenario we hear about – but I won’t allow for that”.

Jade continued to look for other ways of stopping the marriage, or making life difficult for Lọkọde, if Gbọlade went ahead with the marriage. Then one day she overheard some people talking about the ‘oriki penalty’.

Jade had been walking around in town one day when she saw a lot of people gathered together at both sides of the street, waiting to pay homage to their Ọba (ruler), as was the custom. The Ọba was going to pass by with his entourage on his way to a social event. Very soon ‘Kabiyesi!’ (‘Your Majesty!) could be heard everywhere as he passed by, with pomp and fanfare, followed by animated conversations about him as usually happened.

“One of the laws of this town that I find most difficult to understand is the ‘oriki penalty’ – you know about how a woman who is about to marry is sentenced to death if she doesn’t know her husband-to-be’s ‘oriki’ (lineage praise)”, Jade overheard someone saying to another person.

Jade could not believe her ears. She did not even know that such a law existed, even though she went out a lot – to social and cultural events and seemed to be aware of the customs of the land. She listened harder to what else was said about this penalty and got excited.

“Well, well, well! This must be my lucky day! This oriki penalty is the answer for getting rid of Lọkọde. I doubt if she’s heard of it before with her quiet way of life. After all I haven’t until now, and I certainly don’t live a quiet life! I doubt if Lọkọde knows anyone’s oriki. Who’d have told her such things? Who can find out Gbọlade’s oriki for her before the wedding? Parents generally do, but Lọkọde’s parents are dead. I’m sure Gbọlade doesn’t know about the oriki penalty or his oriki either, so there’s no way he can tell her. It’s very simple. All I have to do is to go to the Ọba and tell him that Lọkọde is planning to marry Gbọlade and doesn’t know his oriki. Lọkọde you’ll soon be history!”

The oriki penalty was not the only penalty that weighed down the people of Ogudu. There were so many other strange laws, practices, beliefs, taboos and so on that the people, not only in Ogudu but also elsewhere, had to contend with. Not everyone knew about these laws, beliefs, taboos, and so on, and some of those who did could not believe that they existed – that some of the laws could be carried out in the way they were portrayed – in such a harsh way. Not surprisingly the issue was much talked about, with people coming up with different views, opinions, and even different versions of the same laws, practices, beliefs, taboos. For example, in the case of offences that carried the death penalty, like the oriki one, people have been known to say such things as:

“I don’t believe every Ọba would sentence a woman to death just because she doesn’t know her fiance’s oriki. It is preposterous! It’s inhuman!”

“It is a deterrent. I don’t think our Ọba would go that far. Surely such an offence doesn’t warrant that. It sounds completely out of proportion. Perhaps he’ll just put the accused on public trial, and let the majority decide her fate. I mean if the majority decide that death penalty was uncalled for, perhaps another punishment would be metered out to the woman”.

“How such a law etc came into being baffles me!”

“Why does the penalty apply only to women? Of course, it’s always the woman who has to succumb to the wishes of a man!”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if there isn’t such a law, or if there is, that our Ọba doesn’t carry it out to the letter. Do you know or have you heard of anyone who has fallen prey to this?”

It was true that even though there was such a law, the people talking could not actually think of anyone who had been sentenced to death for this.

“Wasn’t there an Ọba whose people wanted to dethrone him for his wicked ways? This Ọba hated anyone who, he believed, knew more than himself and his experts at court”.

“Yes, the Ọba of Makadu.”

“Surely our Ọba wouldn’t want to be dethroned for his ways?”

“I hope not, and this is why I don’t believe that such law exists as the oriki penalty, or if they do, that they are carried out to the letter”.

“As the story went the Ọba of Makadu didn’t want anyone to outshine him because he thought that that would undermine his authority and could lead to rebellion. He was jealous and insecure”.

“Yes, he hated hearing about other people’s achievements in the areas that he knew nothing about, to such an extent that it became a taboo for someone to talk openly about their expertise – let alone boast that they could do something they could not. Boasting about what one cannot do, especially what nobody has done before is punishable by death.

“No wonder that everyone in Makadu was not happy with this Ọba. What a cruel and merciless man! Pity he wasn’t dethroned; if he had not had his spies all over the place he would have. You know those people who hated him as well but wanted to be on his good side – who sucked up to him to gain favours”.

“Well, at least our Ọba is different from the Ọba of Makadu in one area. I doubt that he’s afraid of people talking openly about what they know, otherwise he wouldn’t insist on women knowing the oriki of their husbands. Don’t forget that the oriki penalty is to do with showing knowledge of one of the things people hold dear in our culture, and our Ọba is, unfortunately obsessed with it; he carries it to the extreme if indeed he puts women to death for such a thing!”

“Well, our Ọba has to be very careful not to be dethroned, because people are not happy about his ways either”.

The Ọba of Makadu was not the only Ọba that was talked about.  There was another Ọba who passed a law that anyone seen at his daughters’ private stream would be put to death.

Deeply chagrined by his wife’s death, the Ọba was over-protective of his daughters – afraid that harm might befall them. He hardly allowed them to leave the palace, or mix with other people, including relatives, even when they attended some of the events that took place at the palace. They had no one to play with – not even among the courtiers’ children. They had their separate stream – ‘odo Ọba’ (royal stream) – close to the palace, and nobody else was allowed to be in its vicinity let alone use it. Violation of this order was punishable by death.

There was also an Ọba who passed a law that anyone who told a lie against an Ọba’s wife would be put to death. There was a case of an iyaale who went to report to the Ọba that her iyawo had violated a law, only to have her head cut off. Wuraọla, the iyawo had gone to remove some of her front teeth without the Ọba’s permission, and had put a set of gold teeth. This really got the king very annoyed – that his own wife had done such a thing without his knowledge. However, the iyaale was proved wrong.

The Ọba of Ogudu, Lọkọde’s town, was known to have a lot of admiration for the culture and the tradition of the land, to be well- versed in them – in cultural practices. He was obsessed with the subject of oriki and carried things to the extreme by passing the oriki penalty. Even though people had oriki, not everyone could recite them. A man who was in the process of getting married, like Gbọlade, and whose fiancé had no mother or father to teach her her intended husband’s oriki faced disaster in those days.

Certain procedures or practices had to be carried out or observed at events such as weddings. For example, if the Ọba was present at such events, homage had to be paid to him – the usual ‘Kabiyesi!’ followed by ‘K’ade pẹ l’ori, ki bata pẹ l’ẹsẹ!’ (May he reign long! Etc) at the start of the events. Acknowledgement of the presence of some important people such as Ọtunba, Olu-Ode would follow. At weddings, the practices would certainly include the bringing the bride forward to praise worship (ki) – to say the groom’s oriki for everyone to hear. It was unheard of if this failed to happen and a sacrilege in the Ọba’s books – punishable by death.

The Ọba was very aware of people’s opinion about this law and others that were cruel and unjustifiable in their eyes. If he was informed beforehand that a woman was about to get married, and that she did not know the oriki of her fiancé, the Ọba, would make it his duty to attend the wedding ceremony. If the allegation happened to be true, the Ọba would pass judgment on the bride. Some lucky women got away with it, like some people did with other laws etc if they were not caught, but those who were reported to the Ọba for not knowing the oriki did not, unfortunately.

“It’s preposterous if a bride, when asked to come forward to praise her groom’s lineage (oriki) – to recite her groom’s lineage at her wedding, fails to do so”, the Ọba had been heard to say, and similar things in anger.

“It can only mean that she doesn’t care about the groom and his family. After all, don’t people generally find out about the background of the family they’re marrying into, and shouldn’t knowledge of oriki play a big role in this? It’s imperative for a woman to know her husband’s oriki because her role is to please him in every way possible!

“How could a bride not know something as important as her groom’s oriki on their wedding day. What kind of wife is she going to be! That means that she doesn’t really love, care for or respect the fiancé’s family and the man himself ”.

It was considered a disgrace for the bride and her family, and the penalty was death.

This was how it came about that Jade decided to use the oriki penalty to seek Lọkọde’s destruction – a penalty that she, Jade was not aware of before. She did not even know her husband’s oriki, before or after getting married to him, and he had never spoken about it to her either. She was so convinced that Lọkọde would be found guilty and went to the Ọba’s palace to tell him that Lọkọde did not know Gbọlade’s oriki. This wicked woman who should thank her lucky stars wanted to get some other woman into trouble for what she herself was guilty of. She saw this as the way forward; she was happy about this development, anticipating the kind of disgrace facing Lọkọde.

“I can’t do anything until the day of the marriage. Are you sure about this?” the Ọba said to Jade.

“Yes, Kabiyesi”.

“You know what’ll happen to you, if you’re lying…Death?”

“Yes, Kabiyesi. I’ll be put to death”.

Jade did not pay any heed to the Ọba’s warning.

Unfortunately, neither Lọkọde nor Gbọlade were aware of this development as they planned their future together. They started to make arrangements for the wedding not knowing what was in store for them. It was when she went to the farm a week before the wedding that Lọkọde heard a bird singing again and again, and her name mentioned in the song. The bird, Ẹiyẹ Ọka , was no ordinary bird. It sang as follows:

Lọkọde, Lọkọde
Ẹiyẹ Ọka
Lọkọde, Lọkọde
Ẹiyẹ Ọka
Ọkọ l’olubunmi akọkọ
Ẹiyẹ Ọka
Ọkọ l’olubunmi ọyala
Ẹiyẹ Ọka
Ipọn l’o se’bẹ l’aila
Ẹiyẹ Ọka

Keregbe l’o ro’do l’aimu
Ẹiyẹ Ọka
Lọkọde, Lọkọde
Ẹiyẹ Ọka
Lọkọde, Lọkọde
Ẹiyẹ Ọka
Ọkọ l’olubunmi akọkọ
Ẹiyẹ Ọka

Ọkọ l’olubunmi ọyala
Ẹiyẹ Ọka
Ipọn l’o se’bẹ l’aila
Ẹiyẹ Ọka
Keregbe l’o ro’do l’aimu
Ẹiyẹ Ọka

Lọkọde did not understand what the bird was saying to her, but she memorized the words of the song anyway, after trying to figure out what each word meant – ‘Oko l’olubunmi akoko…’ She doubted if anyone would. The bird continued to sing throughout the time that Lọkọde was working at the farm.

“Why is this bird calling my name? What’s he saying? Is he trying to tell me something?” Lọkọde had no idea but was fascinated by the song; she loved it. She started singing it to herself again and again. Suddenly Lọkọde remembered her mother’s parting words: “I’m not leaving you my child, even though I’m dying… Whenever you’re in trouble just call out for me in your mind, and who knows…I may have some special powers to rescue you – to present the solution to you”, she had said as a way of comfort to her child.

In those days the world was very different from the way it is today. Human beings and animals had a lot in common. They lived side by side, intermingling freely. Animals spoke like humans, behaved generally the same way – some animals possessing remarkable physical and mental capabilities.

Eye-Oka, the bird whose song Lọkọde had just head was no ordinary bird, not unlike Agbigbo, another bird, in a town called Igbala. Not only did both birds have physical and mental capabilities, but they also had special powers, and the way they used these powers to influence the lives of the inhabitants of the land led to Agbgbo, in particular, being called Agbigbo The Great, and referred to as a person. It was the Ọba (ruler in the human kingdom) of Igbala who gave him that title. Nobody knew how this mysterious bird came into being, but there were speculations. Nobody had any control over him either. People simply did not know what to make of him. All kinds of reports about the bird were brought before the Ọba.

“He is believed to be the king of the birds who live in trees. Apparently, he is in charge of where each and every one of the birds lives, in charge of their welfare – looking out for them, protecting them from being shot at.

“What’s more, Kabiyesi” continued another adviser “Agbigbo flies from tree to tree, for example in swampy farms and forests to observe the inhabitants of the land carrying on with their day-to-day lives. He has the power to be invisible to them, but he became visible whenever he chose to be; he has the power to know what’s going on in the minds of the inhabitants who happen to come into contact with him.

“When he chooses to reveal himself, which isn’t often, he would intervene in the lives of the people he comes across. He would render a favour to individuals or come down harshly on them as he deems fit. He hates any kind of unfairness and is known to have helped people in difficult situations, especially where there’s conflict – where people are being unfairly treated”.

Lọkọde had never heard of Ẹiyẹ Ọka and did not know that he had a lot in common with Agbigbo, whom she had never heard of either. After hearing the bird’s song, and singing it to herself again and again, she left for home, and forgot about the bird.

The wedding day came at last. Lọkọde and Gbọlade arrived at the venue where most of their guests were already gathered. As they sat down, they heard a commotion. The Ọba and his entourage had arrived with the usual pomp and fanfare, and people hailing them.

“Kabiyesi!” resounded everywhere, and the customary greeting for Ọba: “K’ade pẹ l’ori, ki bata pẹ l’ẹsẹ!”

“Why would the Ọba attend our wedding? We are not famous.” Gbọlade and Lọkọde were wondering.

The Ọba sat down with his courtiers, and before the ceremony began a spokeman acknowledged the presence of some dignitaries who were with the Ọba such as Ọtunba, Balogun, Aworo ilu, Olu-Ode. Other customary procedures were carried out, some of them involving reciting people’s oriki.

Then the Ọba addressed the people:

“We’re here to witness these two young people’s marriage. Now is the time for the most important event of the day. We need to hear the oriki of the groom from the mouth of his lovely bride before the two of them are joined in holy matrimony. The bride’s iyaale will bring her forward… Please bring her forward, Jade”

Lọkọde was taken aback; she did not know what to do or say, and neither did Gbọlade.

“The oriki, Kabiyesi?”

“Yes, the oriki” the Ọba replied, convinced that Lọkọde did not know it.

“Didn’t I tell you, Kabiyesi, that she doesn’t know it?!” Jade said with glee as she brought Lọkọde forward. The former had been jumping up for joy.

“You do know the law, don’t you – that any woman who can’t recite her fiance’s oriki on her wedding day and it is brought to my notice in advance, faces death.”

“Death, Kabiyesi!” Lọkọde exclaimed. She was shocked and deeply distressed. She knew that she was in deep trouble, and started to revoke her mother’s memory, and ask for help like she had been advised to do. Lọkọde willed her mother to come to her rescue, and then suddenly remembered the bird and the song. She remembered the bird, Ẹiyẹ Ọka, and the words of the song he sang that did not mean anything to her before, started to have meaning, after hearing some other oriki at the ceremony.

“All right, Kabiyesi! I’ll do better than recite my bridegroom’s oriki to you. Let me sing a song to you and all will be revealed.”
Everybody was taken aback, and there was silence all around. When the Ọba heard the oriki in a song – well-sounding and melodious – he was overjoyed.

“Oriki in a song! We need more like that!”

The Ọba thought that Lọkọde had made up the song herself and was delighted. He was thrilled; he loved this kind of thing.

“This is perfect; it adds more to the enjoyment of this wedding ceremony. We can all sing and dance to it”

Jade was shocked; she could not believe her ears. She noticed that some people were talking about her, pointing at her, so she tried to make her escape, but the Ọba stopped her.

“Not so fast! You’ve done a very bad thing – wanting to cause the death of another person. Is there any reason why you yourself should not be put to death? I warned you when you came to report Lọkọde to me.”

The wicked woman begged for mercy, but the Ọba was relentless.

“Take her away and lock her up until the trial. Lọkọde, I’m going to shower you with money and worldly goods not only for knowing your bridegroom’s oriki but also for putting a new slant on it. What I give you will go a long way to enhance your married life – in fact you’ll never be in need! Let the wedding proceedings continue!”

“Kabiyesi!” resounded everywhere.