When Prince Amuniwaiye ascended the throne of his fathers, it looked like he would do well. Oyo had looked forward to a new era after the departure of Gberu, Amuniwaiye’s father who was ‘convinced’ to put an end to his own life. Unfortunately, lion’s cub will never go to the abode of a sheep to feed. The new Alaafin’s story was no better than his father’s. The only difference was the mode of death. Alaafin Amuniwaiye had a ‘medicine man’, a Special Adviser on spiritual matters called Olukoyisi.
Olukoyisi, afraid of openly relating with Alaafin, opted to send his wife to the palace instead of going himself. Thus, each time he needed to fortify the king, he sent his wife, Ololo, to deliver the pot of charm.
The king must have been so taken by the curvy endowments of his medicine man’s wife that he moved from drinking from the prepared pot of charms to drinking from the honeypot of Olukoyisi. Someone must have squealed on the two lovers or perhaps the medicine man was powerful enough to know that a strange mouth had started eating what was exclusively his. He was livid.
Who did the king think he was?
Oh, so because tradition says he was king over everything, Alaafin thought that included Ololo’s waist beads and and the sweetness they carry?
Olukoyisi snapped his fingers, thumbed his chest and decided to teach the king the lesson his father forgot to teach him.
In the ‘The History of the Yorubas’ by Reverend Samuel Johnson, we read that Olukoyisi prepared a very strong ‘something’ from the roots of opoki tree. He laced his wife with it without her knowledge, then dispatched her off with another pot of charms to the Alaafin.
Sadly, Amuniwaiye was too gluttonous to possess ifura (ability to discern or sense looming danger), a gift every elder worth his years must have. As soon as he saw the rolling backside of Ololo, the king kicked all caution to the curb and hurriedly dived into her honeypot as usual. Alas, when it was time to come up for air, Oba Amuniwaiye found himself stuck. Yeah, stuck deep inside Ololo. He tried to retrieve himself but his “staff of office” wouldn’t cooperate. Ololo struggled to get out of under the king but the royal staff clung to her shaft.
Royal rumble scandal. Don’t ask me if the stuck lovers eventually called out for help. Reverend Johnson is no longer with us to clarify. But I figured the palace servants who must have waited for hours for the Alaafin to ‘finish’ or for Ololo to leave then noticed that the grunt and moan of pleasure had become groans of pain. Did the concerned servants burst into the royal chamber? Most likely. What their eyes saw was beyond what their mouths could describe. Alafin and Ololo were gummed or glued inextricably together, both sweating scandalously, shamefully.
Some sort of ‘surgery’ had to be performed to separate the Oba from the bossom of the wife of his SA on spiritual matters. Of course, the surgery was unsuccessful. The two lovers went with the winds of that royal shame. Their bodies experienced separation at their burial.
Lesson?
Monkey and banana are what the Yoruba call iku and dede; they stalk each other. Wherever freebies boku for ground, death dey there! Every part of an elephant is sweet meat. The wise however, knows that uncontrolled taste for the meaty can be a visa to death and destruction. The mere redolence of sweetness is enough death in some cases. In other words, whatever is sweet has some lethal doses of poison. Politics, political office and the free money that flows there kill. They kill. And when shameful death decides to strike, it has no respect for class or wealth. It does not matter how long a sweet thing remains sweet, the beneficiary of the sweetness should not lick so shamelessly the sweet that he forgets that the Opoki tree root could just be at the bottom of the cup.
Amuniwaiye did not know, and he ought to have known, that one day ‘monkey go go market, but e no go come back.’ Leaders who have piped the public milk – and honey – into their selfish bellies ought to know that this thing that is sweet can end up in premium constipation. They are pretending not to know. They tell themselves that the root of Opoki tree with its captivus properties died with Alaafin Amuniwaiye.
Ten kings, ten characters; ten tastes and ten endings. There were many Alaafin in the old Oyo Empire and their reigns were as colourful as their numbers. Some were weak, many were mean but most were men of valour, warriors who took delight in annexing territories. There was Alaafin Adelu who didn’t go to war until it was absolutely unavoidable. History also documented Alaafin Kanran as an unmitigated tyrant who tortured erring subjects to death. That did not mean that there would not have been a few good things about those leaders and their reigns, especially what led to their downfalls.
I don’t want our leaders to die inside Naija’s honey pot. But dem no dey hear word. Dusk is night but the lucre of public office is sweet. A worker deserves his wages. The man who tends the altar is also allowed to eat from the altar. The problem with the Nigerian public office holder is that he wants to eat the altar along with the burnt offerings. He puts himself first and last as he squeezes the rest of us in the middle.
Public service is a trust, a call to serve. Public office is not a job, should not be a job, a source of income. It is not a private or personal investment; not a family farm. It is a position to be occupied to benefit all and improve public good. But here, people look for political appointments not because they want to contribute to the national wellbeing or make a mark on the economy. They look for political jobs because they had no other means of livelihood or business. They love the freebies and vulgar wealth that come with public office. Why else do you think they go to all kinds of length to get into office and stay in it? Ask yourself, why would a man who is going into political office to work, to serve, first holds an elaborate thanksgiving service and party as soon as he’s sworn in?
Sweet things are good and should be enjoyed, but in Nigeria, political office has become just about cake sharing. Nobody wants to bake the national cake, only the foolish thinks of constructing a bakery. It is convenient for everybody to forget that some people baked what they are enjoying today. They have all forgotten that their brief is first to preserve the bakery and what was baked, before their arrival and then to bake some more. The aroma and taste of the forbidden has robbed most of our leaders their sense of caution and propriety.
Like Oba Amuniwaiye, they want to keep their fingers permanently in the till. They are not only fingering or fiddling, they are scooping.
That thing called primitive stealing is the bane of our national life. Imagine what history would have recorded of the Prince when he became king if only he had focused on his brief to serve Oyo people instead of stealing from his subject. Imagine if he had restricted his royal staff to his harem of royal shafts. But no, he had to dip a private pen in a public ink pot. Isn’t that why Nigerians wish the worst for their leaders? They think they deserve pains. Bad vibes everywhere.
And they don’t know when enough should be enough. Imagine if Amuniwaiye knew when to repent before he got caught. But stealing from his own fortifier became a sick past time. He did it once and wanted to do it forever. Why will a royal think sleeping with the wife of his protector was a perk of office? Don’t ask Amuniwaiye, ask our political leaders who sneak and slink around doing the unthinkable, taking even what they don’t need. Couldn’t Amuniwaiye have married seven wives in one day so he could open all seven doors in one night? No. Like Nigerian fiddlers and pilferers, he preferred the stolen sweetness of a sorcerer’s wife’s voluptuousness.
Ask yourself, of all the problems plaguing Nigeria, how did removing or not removing the immunity of the vice president, governors and deputy governors become a matter of urgent national importance at the National Assembly? In a country that is fast fading? A country full of hunger and anger? I can provide an answer. The people thinking immunity or its removal at this time are people who have no worries at all. They are not being chased, even in their dreams, for rent or school fees. Online loan apps are not threatening to plaster their faces all over social media. Why would you be thinking of the cost of the measure of beans or a tuber of yam when you have a store spilling over with food which disease and doctors have removed from your menu?
In just four years, 2020-2024, check out the list of multinational companies that left Nigeria: Deli Foods Nigeria Ltd, Tower Aluminium Nigeria Plc., Standard Biscuits, Surest Foam, Framan Industries, Mother’s Pride Ventures, Unilever Nigeria Plc. Procter and Gamble, GlaxoSmithKline Consumer Nigeria Ltd, PZ Cussons, Total Energies, Diagio Plc, Shoprite Nigeria, Sanofi-Aventis, Equinox, Universal Rubber Company Ltd and Microsoft. Can you imagine the number of job losses and the ripple effects on families and smaller businesses that feed those organisations? Yet the Amuniwaiyes in government are more concerned about the soft backside of the sorcerer’s wife.
Whatever evil we see today did not start today. It didn’t. The betrayal started a long time ago. I know you were aware of this depressing list, including the fact that each Nigerian has a list of companies that he used to see growing up that are no longer here. But let’s bottle up the pain for a while and let’s imagine if Nigerians had woken up and found our lawmakers discussing how to bring back those companies to Nigeria. Let’s imagine them devote the same ample time, and energy, which they devote to dragging one another from social media to traditional media, to figuring how to bring Mitchelin Tyres and Berec Batteries back to life.
Why do you think smart men we look up to think new manufacturers will prefer an economic climate that froze out PZ Cussons and Tower Aluminum? A man who cannot make a wife stay married to him is a suspect. He’s a man you cannot (and should not) trust with your vow, your innocence and chastity.
Perhaps, Amuniwaiye thought Olukoyisi would never know what the Alaafin was doing to his wife. Maybe he thought nobody could question him, after all he was king – Kabiyesi, the unquestionable. He could even have convinced himself that the gods were behind him as the Alase Ikeji Orisa (Second in command to the Creator).
Nemesis is as stubborn as AIDS. It comes and stays until it claims a victim. You can imagine the kind of thought that must have chased through Amuniwaiye’s mind, the series of emotions that he went through when he found out that his monkey had finally gone on a journey of no return. He didn’t see Olukoyisi coming in his final moments as they dug him out of Ololo’s warmth. He must have realised the futility of the sweetness of evil. Ikun was eating groundnut and smacking his lips, not realizing that it is what is sweet that kills. Ikun n jepa, o n redi finkin, la i mo pe ohun t’odun a ma pa ni.
My sermon is that one day, those holding in trust this land’s pot of honey and who wantonly betray that trust may have their loony tongues stuck in the jar. I plead that they know that the real owner of the honey would one day sneak in the sorcerer’s solution. One day, that day may not be far away.
