By Tunde Odesola
Clad in a silver-colour spacesuit like Neil Armstrong, the first man to set foot on the moon, I boarded my shuttle of prose – on a mission through myth and reality – to the ancient town of Ikoro-Ekiti, a lush land that existed long before western capitalist-cartographers carved territories out of ancient empires they later christened Africa; long before the white man arrived with his brutal scissors and treacherous thread to cut and suture lands, lineages and languages.
I am not terminating this journey at Ikoro-Ekiti; it is only my first port of call. Here’s the flight schedule, if you care. From Igbajo, the Land of the Brave, in Osun, I shall power my pencraft towards Ikoro-Ekiti, on a nonstop flight, before heading to Islam-dominated Ilorin, the city of Àfònjá, located in modern-day Kwara State, and then head to Iwo, the illustrious town in present-day Osun State, where the parrot sings truthful tunes on the banks of Obà River.
Are you ready to embark on this exploration with me? Okay, if the egungun is ready, the cane is ready, too. O ya, hop on board, and let’s travel through the marrow of myth.
Once upon a time, writes Prof Wande Abimbola in his book, “Ifa Divination Poetry,” published in March 1973, a king ascended the throne of Ikoro-Ekiti. His name was Oba Onikoro Mèbí. The powerful king had many queens, among whom was a promiscuous belle, whose name was not dignified with a mention in the Ifa corpus that bears her story.
The warmth and succulence of Onikoro Mèbí’s bed notwithstanding, this beautiful queen was stoking the heat of another man’s loins. “Stolen water is sweet, and bread eaten in secret is delicious,” says King Solomon in the Book of Proverbs, chapter 7, verse 17. Onikoro’s queen and her lover got carried away by the juice of their dalliance; they ate and drank until the king caught them red-handed.
Unlike these days, there’s a punishment for anyone caught in the trap of sacrilege, in those days. Such a culprit would be stripped, bathed in ash, bound hand and foot, and dumped by the roadside on the way to the market, for passersby to see their shame.
In ages past, palaces in Yorubaland consisted of 16 separate quarters, with the king living in the biggest and most dignified of the quarters. The king’s wife was to be given the ash treatment, but Onikoro Mèbí felt that it would belittle his esteem in the eyes of the world. So, he had his male servants strip his wife, drench her in ash, and tie her up in front of one of the apartments, figuring out which day of the week was best to behead the culprits.
In a moment of sober reflection, however, Onikoro Mèbí sent for his herbalist, Àgbìgbònìwònràn, expressing his wish to seek Ifa’s counsel on the matter at hand. Before Àgbìgbònìwònràn left home for the king’s palace, he went and consulted a group of herbalists whose tradename was Kese-Kese Baba Kàsà-Kàsà. The herbalists told him to offer a sacrifice to the gods urgently. But, Àgbìgbònìwònràn did not offer the sacrifice as charged, valuing royal summons above spiritual sacrifice. So, off to the palace, he went.
Onikoro Mèbí unburdened his heart to Àgbìgbònìwònràn, who stared at the floor while the king talked. When the king was through, Àgbìgbònìwònràn consulted Ifa, and Ifa warned that the king should be careful with the way he handles the case of his wife, saying the king had only seen Kese-Kese, adding that Kàsà-Kàsà, the father of Kese-Kese, was coming behind. Thus, Àgbìgbònìwònràn used the wisdom in the name, Kese-Kese Baba Kàsà-Kàsà, to counsel the king.
Through the story of Onikoro Mèbí and Àgbìgbònìwònràn as enshrined in Ifa teachings, the myth of Kese-Kese baba Kàsà-Kàsà was entrenched in Yoruba worldview and subsequently became a popular proverb.
As Ifa called for caution, Onikoro Mèbí felt ashamed to free his wife by himself, so he told Àgbìgbònìwònràn to go and untie the queen. When Àgbìgbònìwònràn got to the naked queen, their eyes locked, and he untied her hands, legs, and thighs.
While Àgbìgbònìwònràn was digging the queen’s soil to sow his wild oats, the queen burst into a shriek: “Fife ni n fe mi o, fife ni n fe mi, Àgbìgbònìwònràn ko kuku tu mi sile, fife ni n fe mi,” meaning: “He is not untying me, he is not untying me; Àgbìgbònìwònràn is making love to me, he is not untying me!”
The king heard the scream of his queen. He rushed down to the apartment and found a stripped Àgbìgbònìwònràn, his Ifa pouch, clothes and cap flung in different directions, sweating and panting. Instantly, the king unsheathed his sword, swung it, and Àgbìgbònìwònràn’s head thudded hard on the ground, blood squirting.
The news of Àgbìgbònìwònràn’s beheading travelled like wildfire, reaching the paramount palace of the Alaafin of Oyo, whose panegyrics – Obaléyò Ajòrí, Oba Ajodo emi gbára, Oba Ajeèsé-Yokùn-Tòòtò-Léyò – resounded at home and abroad. So, the Alaafin summoned his vassal, Onikoro Mèbí, to Oyo.
Obaléyò Ajòrí asked Onikoro Mèbí why he beheaded his babalawo. The embattled king told his side of the story, bereft of caution, patience and due process. The Alaafin gave his verdict: Onikoro Mèbí, too, must die. His head bounced on the ground like that of Àgbìgbònìwònràn.
Now, Ilorin comes into view as I nose my spacecraft in a descent. Ilorin is a beautiful city. The touchdown will be in a few minutes. Fasten your seat belts, please. After disembarking, we shall go to Oke-Kudu, an area of Ilorin.
Factually, the Onikoro Mèbí analogy exemplifies the latest katakata between the Oluwo of Iwo, Oba Abdulrasheed Akanbi, and his longtime alfa, whose name was simply given in a viral video as the Magaji of Oke-Kudu in Ilorin.
In the ungodly video, the magaji portrays himself as the creature who controls the creator. The video provides a classic tool to atheists, who see God as a creation of Man to explain the unknown. Also, the video has the potential to drive agnostics farther away from the realm of belief. Indeed, if a little child watches the video, he is likely to come off with the notion of Allah as being a king kong, who is controlled on a keypad by the reckless.
To start with, Magaji Oke Kudu claims he knew Akanbi when he was hustling in Canada, and that he was the one who told him to marry his first wife, when Akanbi wouldn’t stop getting into trouble. He explains that the marriage to a northern Nigerian lady produced two sons.
In a bid to show how close he was to Oluwo, the Magaji produced an alleged photocopy of the information page of Akanbi’s passport, saying the Iwo monarch had invited him to Canada long before he became king.
Sitting regally in Arabian apparel, with a ceiling-high turban, the angry magaji said that when Akanbi had a run-in with the law in Toronto, he was the one who begged Allah to make the principal witness in the case against Akanbi go mad. He said, “Akanbi was arrested for money laundering. They (police) came to his house and saw money in his house. He was set up by his girlfriend, Loranie, and was arrested. The case came up in a lower court; we begged God on his behalf, and he won. They rearrested him and took him to the central court. They retrieved the huge sum of money from him.
“The judge asked that Loranie be produced in court to come and testify; if the lady testifies against Akanbi, he would go to jail. A lot of Nigerians abroad bag 50-year jail terms and more. He became jittery and confided in me. And I told Allah, ‘God, you’re the one who forgives; forgive me and forgive Abdulrasheed, too’.
“So, the lady was produced in court, with both of them in separate witness boxes. The judge asked the lady if she knew Akanbi. Of course, she knows him. (Magaji waves his right hand to God in supplication.) If Akanbi appreciates what we did, he shouldn’t forget us; he shouldn’t forget Ilorin forever.
“When the judge called on the lady to talk, she became mad instantly. May God forgive me and forgive Akanbi. She became mad! They asked her questions, but she was just tearing at her hair. The judge dismissed the case immediately.”
Magaji recounts how the Oluwo was caught and jailed in the US for criminal impersonation while on a visit, saying he (Magaji) again begged God for him (Akanbi) to regain freedom. “I saw that he had no one; that’s why I stood by him fully. I didn’t help him because of money; he had no money,” magaji said.
Though it is on record that two British tabloids, The Sun and The Mail, in 2024, revealed how Oluwo was jailed twice in the US and deported to Nigeria in 1999 for engaging in money fraud, among other crimes, I shall not dwell on his past transgressions.
While digging in on this story, I discovered that the magaji was annoyed with the Oluwo because of the shoddy treatment the king allegedly meted out to him some time ago. Specifically, the man, who calls himself an imam, said he was chased out of Iwo palace by 12:30 a.m., when he was on a visit to the palace, stressing that he had to go and sleep in a mosque till daybreak. Magaji called on Akanbi to return the Toyota Camry, aka Muscle, which he claimed he had given to him.
By coming to the public with the news of the false and ungodly help he rendered to the Akanbi, the magaji was going to kill two birds with one stone. He aims to display the authenticity of his brutal powers so that ignoramuses could flock to him, seeking protection, ritual money, etc. He also wants to get even with Akanbi for turning his back on him.
The magaji, whose video I watched, appears to be over 50; a fool at 40 is a fool forever, goes a popular Nigerian saying. It is baffling that an imam, who has a congregation and who teaches people, doesn’t know that anyone who holds the tiger by the tail ends up in its belly.
* To be continued
Written by By Tunde Odesola and first published in The PUNCH, on Friday, August 1, 2025)
Email: tundeodes2003@yahoo.com
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