Olubadan palace entertainers who earn N2,000 monthly declare
From OLUSEYE OJO, Ibadan
Anyone who has ever been to the palace of Olubadan of Ibadanland, Oba Saliu Adetunji, Aje Ogungunniso I, would have experienced one of the most profound cultural entertainments of his life. At the abode of the monarch, located at Alusekere Compound, Popoyemoja, Ibadan in Oyo State, there is no dull moment, thanks to a group of palace entertainers, all of them senior citizens, who sing with traditional musical instruments in a way that electrifies the atmosphere. The purely traditional entertainment is one of the attractions that made visiting the palace memorable.
The royal griots, led by Onirara Oba, consisted majorly of Alaro, Onisekere, and Onikakaki (trumpeter). Once a guest steps into the king’s court, all the chief praise singer requires is a bit of the visitor’s background (such as personal biography or some ethnic identifications like tribal marks) and he spins a praise song, boomed from his megaphone, and backed by other’s musical instruments. Subjects of their paean can hardly afford not to look their way, and would be most ingracious not to do the needful by rewarding them with money.
The leader of the melodious group is Alhaji Kasaliyu Idowu Oyemakinde, a man reputed to be a walking encyclopaedia of Oriki (Yoruba traditional poetry), so versed he probably knows the eulogies of all the Yoruba monarchs, and so versatile first-class kings in Yorubaland frequently borrow him from his principal to spice their special occasions.
Saturday Sun recently visited Olubadan palace and chatted with the quartet to get a glimpse of the life of palace griots. Oyemakinde sketched a typical day: He arrives at the palace early in the morning, he and his colleagues will rouse the king with a 10 to 20 -minute ‘good morning’ performance, to announce they have resumed for duty. The rite is repeated in the evening before they take their leave.
Of how he came into the traditional art of praise-singing, the chief praise singer said: “I was born into this work.”
He substantiated his claim with an abridged biography of himself. “My father was Onirara and I used to follow him to parties to sing. I learnt a lot from him. My father, Esumakinde, hailed from Iwo in the present Osun State, but he lived at Olorunda-Aba village in Lagelu Local Government Area of Oyo State, he got married, built a house and had all his children, including myself. I did not know my father was from Iwo until he became the Baale of Fiesu in Iwo. From our village at Olorunda-Aba, I would ride a bicycle – which I bought at the age of 15 in 1955 – to towns near and far such as Ajobo, Abutu, Idi-Omo, Alasa, Adelola, Igbo-Oloyin, Aroro-Makinde among others to conduct Rara business at social events. And, I made a lot of money.”
Becoming the king’s chief praise singer was a matter of time. “My elder brother, Niyi, also an Onirara, lived in Ibadan town, and was in the service of the late Olubadan, Oba Ali-Iwo. Anytime I went to the town, I would go to the palace to observe him.”
After the demise of the king in 1952, his brother returned to Iwo and the post of the king’s praise singer was vacant for a long time until Oba Yinusa Ogundipe Arapasowu, enthroned in 1999, sent for Oyemakinde to come and assume the role of Onirara Oba, the king’s chief praise singer. Till date, he has served three monarchs in that role including Oba Samuel Odulana Odugade I, and the incumbent.
Saturday Sun also spoke with one of his lieutenants, Alaro Oba Kolawole Kehinde Wahabi, 79, who has been playing Aro (cymbal) for 30 years and has served a total of five monarchs starting from Oba Yesufu Oloyede Asanike, crowned in 1982, to the present Olubadan.
“To play Aro , you must at first master Sekere. I started with Sekere and later learnt to beat Aro in Ogbomoso.”
Another member of the group, Bashiru Amole plays Sekere, a musical instrument consisting of a gourd surrounded by a net of beads. He hails from the same Alusekere Compound with the present Olubadan. Born into the job, he learnt from his father how to beat Sekere.
Rewards for their passion
There is only one word to describe what drives the palace singers. Passion. They started their service in the palace without receiving salaries. Their gain comes from monetary gifts from visitors and special rewards from the Olubadan.
Their story changed when the late Oba Ogundipe formally started giving each of them a salary of N600 per month, a sum later increased to N1, 200 following the intervention of the late Otun Olubadan of Ibadanland, Chief Omowale Kuye.
Effort was made to subsequently regularise their wages. “During the reign of Oba Odulana, he ensured we were enlisted on the payroll of local governments. I collect my salary from Ibadan North East Local Government, Iwo Road, Ibadan. Each member of the group is also attached to a local government which pays us N2, 000. But our salaries have been irregular since April 2016. We heard it is due to the economic recession in the country.”
Perhaps, you envision them as paupers feeding on crumbs from the royal table. Perish the thought and listen to Oyemakinde as he sheds light on the other side of his life. He is a proud owner of two buildings in Ibadan, the first at his hometown, Olorunda-Aba, built from the proceeds of his Rara business before he became a palace griot, while the second stands at Oremeji Agugu, built after his relocation to Ibadan.
It was with pride he disclosed to Saturday Sun: “I am more than a royal praise singer. I am also a cocoa farmer. My plantation is in Iddo Local Government Area.”
His colleague, Wahabi, too, also has a house at Edun village, near Lalupon, Ibadan, built of course from the proceeds of the job.
Comparing his previous life as a commercial social praise singer to his present status as a griot in the king’s court, Oyemakinde said ‘now’ is better than ‘then.’ “Then, people called us Alagbe (beggars). Now, we work with dignity. Chiefs and visitors to the palace give us monetary gift when we praise them by their Oriki,” he clarified.
The griots affirmed the incumbent Olubadan continues the tradition of caring for them, daily providing their breakfast, lunch and transport fares.
And of course, some earnings trickle from visitors who come to the palace.
It is difficult, if not unbecoming, for guests who are beneficiaries of the griots’ praises to refuse to part with some token.. “To anyone that does not want to give us gift on time, we have a song for them: ‘A kii wale Oba lofe, t’owo t’owo laa wa o’ ––To wit: “You don’t come to the palace empty-handed. You must come with money.”
An endangered tradition
Who is likely to succeed him as Onirara Oba? This question saddens Oyemakinde. This is why: “There is no one that I have seen in Ibadan here that can step into my shoes. Only God knows if this cultural heritage would not go into extinction. No young man wants to do this job. Perhaps, if our salary is upped to N50, 000 youths may be encouraged to surrender themselves for grooming in this art. As things stand now, the younger ones do not see any future in this job.”
He sees peril ahead of this cultural art. What is worse, practitioners of other similar arts such as Ijala, an art of chanting common among hunters, and Esa, peculiar to the families of masquerades, cannot fit into his shoes.
“Rara is different from Ijala and Esa,” he said glumly.
The septuagenarian bemoaned the younger generation’s lack of interest in such an important cultural heritage. “They prefer white-collar job to this one. Many people have erroneously referred to us as Alagbe (beggars). Well, we are not offended because we have come to realise the limit of their understanding.”
Bashiru Amole’s worries far outweighed his colleague’s. One cold fact sends shivers down his spine––only two persons from Alusekere Compound know how to beat sekere. Others have turned to businesses and academics.
The situation is no better with Wahabi and his art. “Of the six of us in Ibadan that graduated from playing Sekere to Aro, only two of us are still alive,” he said.
Adeola Oloko, media aide to Olubadan, also amplified this concern and agreed that a measure should be evolved to safeguard the future of this integral part of cultural tradition for the palace of the paramount ruler of Ibadan.
The palace griots have a common prayer: That relevant stakeholders would take steps to save their art from extinction because Oriki is a vital part of the Yoruba oral tradition, which reveals the origin of the people, their forefathers, traits, occupation and deeds of a particular family.
Many of those who appreciate the significance the services of these jolly good fellows harbour also have nagging concerns seeing that they are clearly in their twilight. In the absence of a strategic effort to groom a new generation of Onirara Oba, Alaro Oba, Onisekere Oba and company, one does not need to look at the crystal ball to foresee that the future occupiers of the royal throne of Ibadan someday having to live without the privilege of the group of griots who themselves are part and parcel of the culture and tradition of the palace.