Thesis

Orisa-Shakespeare:
A study of Shakespeare Adaptations Inspired by the Yoruba

Tradition
By
Olalekan Is’haq Balogun

(PhD with creative component)
A thesis submitted to the Victoria University of Wellington in fulfilment

of the requirements for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy in Theatre
Victoria University of Wellington

(2017)
Abstract
This thesis combines creative practice with critical analysis to intervene in the field of
post-colonial Shakespeare where, for over a generation, the process of adaptation has
been presented as one of the main strategies by which Shakespeare’s ambiguous legacy
in successor cultures can be both confronted and manipulated. Scholars often use the
term “writing back” to designate a set of adaptations which challenge the cultural
capital that Shakespeare privileges. By linking Yoruba spirituality in its political and
cultural terms to the wider field of the relation between Africa, African writers and
theatre makers and Shakespeare, the thesis proposes a new sub-field or genre of
adaptations, “Orisa-Shakespeare,” rooted in Yoruba traditions. The thesis argues that,
written in Nigeria and the Yoruba global diaspora, this set of adaptations are not
necessarily challenging the Shakespeare canon but addressing their own societies, thus
“writing forward.” The thesis examines the cultural and political significance of this
bourgeoning body of adaptations of Shakespeare through the lens of Yoruba
epistemology and its aesthetic principles.
The thesis is broadly divided into two parts: an exegesis of selected adaptations
of Shakespeare as case studies of post-colonial works that reflect and integrate Yoruba
creative and performative idioms and translate them into dramaturgy; and an original
play, Emi Caesar! in which core elements of Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar are
transplanted into the complex, violent world of Yoruba politics of the mid-19th century,
as a parable for contemporary Nigeria politics where factionalism (specifically
tribal/ethnic bigotry) works against the integrity and security of the society.
In the context that the thesis proposes, the present has constant recourse to the
past, especially the ancestors, and engages in rituals which create ongoing, living links
between human beings and the realm of the Yoruba Gods (Orisa).The outcomes are the
documentation of a uniquely Yoruba theory of literary creativity, a new play based on
Julius Caesar, and an original contribution to the broad field of postcolonial
(Shakespeare) adaptations scholarship.
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Acknowledgements
Iba Olodumare----Olojo, Oyigiyigi, Atererekaye, ojiji-biri a ji p’ojo iku da!

Iba Orisa----ile gbogbo nile orisa!
Iba Eniyan----.aye to-o-to mo juba!
______________
Foremost, I acknowledge the generous financial support of the New Zealand
government and the Victoria University of Wellington (VUW) through the Faculty of
Graduate Research (FGR) for the Victoria Doctoral Scholarship that was awarded to
me in 2012, including the Research Grant I received in 2014 and the Completion
scholarship of 2016, which made it possible for me to conduct the PhD research in the
university.
At the Victoria University of Wellington, I was welcomed by a multi-talented

staff of the Theatre programme who combines academic work and artistic ingenuity
with rare sense of humanity and kindness. First, I acknowledge with utmost respect my
supervisors: James Stuart McKinnon and Megan Evans, with whom I forged a
relationship beyond mere supervision. While I will continue to cherish the memory of
working with both of you (“learning from you” is actually the right expression), I will
particularly mention Megan’s unusual openness and James’s “brotherly-support” ever
since I arrived in Wellington. I also say my “Thank you” to Shannon Friday, for the
warm hospitality I received while staying with you (and James) during the first month
of my arrival in Wellington in the winter of 2013.
My unalloyed gratitude to the Head of the School of English, Film, Theatre and
Media Studies and distinguished award-winning international theatre director who also
happened to be my University examiner, Associate Professor David O’Donnell; James
Davenport for his knowing and encouraging words and smiles; the brilliant
Shakespeare scholar and theatre director, Dr Lori Leigh; as well as Dr Nicola Hyland,
Kerryn Palmer and Bronwyn Tweddle and the ever-reliable Cathy McCullagh. I thank
Prof. Gbemi Adeoti of the Obafemi Awolowo University, Ile Ife, Nigeria and Dr. Mark
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Houlahan of the University of Waikato, New Zealand; Prof Duro Oni; Prof Tunde
Babawale (Chief Executive Officer), S.S. Bamikole and the entire staff of the Centre
for Black and African Art and Civilization (CBAAC) for their many years of assistance.
Concomitantly, I thank Dame Dawn Sanders (ONZM), the Chief Executive

Officer, Shakespeare Globe Centre New Zealand (SGCNZ) and member, Shakespeare
Globe Council, London; Brian Pearl and the entire members of the Shakespeare
Society, New Zealand, for hosting me in May, 2016, at their monthly gathering where
I presented a section of the thesis “Shakespeare in Africa” and excerpts from Emi,
Caesar! In the same vein, I thank Brendan West, Kassie McLuskie and Morgan
Hopkins, who acted in the excerpts and offered useful advice; my colleagues in the PhD
programme, Dor Fadlon and Indranil Chakravarty; my friend and brother, Dr (Engr)
Ramoni Adeogun and his family, my Sri-Lankan friend, Anas Sherifdeen and his wife,
Fatima and importantly, my Iraqi friend, Tahir Nawaz, who did wonders!
My gratitude flows like a river, endless on its path, to people who made my trip
to New Zealand possible, even as they also strove to make my family comfortable at
home in my absence. Still, I wonder why I am so blessed to know these people: Taiye
Olaniyi, Dr Bosede Ademilua-Afolayan, Femi Olaiya, Nurudeen Alamu (Baba
Lagbaji), Emmanuel Adetumbi (Obalola), and Wasiu Popoola.
Olaniyi --- father, mentor, and confidant. I will forever remain grateful to you
and your family, especially your wife, Mrs Kofoworade Olaniyi, and my brother and
sisters: Tomiwa, Tejumade and Tolulope. I thank you for being “You”, one of the most
distinguished individuals that I have ever met --- “Iyeru Okin, olofa mojo omo laare”--
-and perhaps will ever meet!
Dr.Bosede Ademilua-Afolayan--- sister, friend, mother, and source of

inspiration, all beyond a former lecturer. I have never met anyone so caring, so focused
and so determined, even with a smile. This PhD was a DREAM... you were instrumental
to its realization in many ways than you can think of!
Femi Olaiya --- friendship akin to blood and flesh, soulmate, trusted ally. You
broke the boundaries of friendship seeking instead something more glorious. “Thank
you” is not enough!; Baba Lagbaji --- I will always be grateful....warafa nau makana
aliyan!; Obalola --- great soul, intelligent being, compassionate, unique!; Wasiu (and
Sherifat), your prayers are answered...in shaa Allah!
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I will never forget you, Uncle Olu Adeniregun... “Thank you a million times”; Otunba
Tunji Sotimirin (Shadow), a mentor and inspirer; and my childhood friend and first
critic, Sola Martins Ikumelo, who led me straight to the Centre for Cultural Studies
where the journey started.
True friendship is sometimes found in the most unlikely places and among
people that one least expected. Such is the case of Sesan Fasanu (Omo Yellow), Sumbo
Saheed Bello, Kamar Adekunjo and Sola Adeyemi, who believe in me more than I ever
believed in myself: “THIS IS IT...Thank you, my brothers for life!” I will not forget
Seye Onatolu, Barney Obi-Abiezue and his family, Rotimi Agbebi Williams and my
most committed younger friends (disciples): Habeeb Awoko Ayodeji, Aderemi
Adegbite and Wale Lampejo.
I thank you, Alagba Kehinde Salako and “Baba” Olatunji Iranloye, for your
prayers and trust in my ability; and Dr Johnson Ademola Adewara, for your advice and
brotherly love; Prof Danoye Oguntola-Laguda and Sina Ayodele of the Lagos State
University, LASU, for the illuminating discussions we had on Yoruba rituals and the
Orisa, as well as the useful comments you provided after reading a draft of my thesis.
Similarly, I thank my informants: Chief Oluawo Akanni Sofolabo of Ijo Orunmila
Adulawo, Somolu & the Reformed Ogboni Fraternity; O/I Canon Ifaniyi Babatunde
Adetayo, the Apena Iledi Joel Ogunaike Adase & the Reformed Ogboni Fraternity; the
distinguished thespian, Chief Priest Ademola Fabunmi of Ijo Orunmila Ato, Ebute
Metta; and Babalawo Afolabi Ifasogbon (Afoo), the Chief Priest Otuku & Atuwara
Heritage, Ota, respectively.
I thank my mum, and brothers and sisters for their love and prayers.
Last but by no means the least, I thank my wife, Ganiyat Oluwakemi Balogun (nee
Adeyemo), the first true believer in my life, career, and self. I couldn’t have done this
without you. Actually, this PhD is yours, not mine. Ire gbogbo, gbogbo ire!
And to my lovely daughters: Queen Moremi Ololade (Moremscoco!); Princess

Olamipo Abeebat (Ollykoko!); and Princess Kanyinsola Azeezat (Muyanmuyan!), who
endured my years of travel and absence from home. I hope this PhD compensates for
everything.
THANK YOU!
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Contents
Abstract............................................................................................................... i
Acknowledgements............................................................................................. ii
Contents............................................................................................................... v
List of Illustrations............................................................................................... vi
Glossary of Yoruba words................................................................................... vii
Foreword............................................................................................................ xii
Introduction: Tracing Atunda’s Path on Shakespeare’s Island........................... 1
Orisa-Shakespeare: a conceptual framework...................................................... 6
Research Questions............................................................................................. 23
Outline of Research............................................................................................ 24
Chapter One
Orisa-Shakespeare: Towards a Theory of Yoruba Shakespeare Adaptation..... 26
Origin and Development of Yoruba Drama and Theatre.................................. 32
Shakespeare’s Travels: Through the heart of Africa into Yorubaland.............. 58
Chapter Two
Introduction: Ogun vs Esu/Orunmila: the Quest for an Alter/Native Tradition... 74
Wesoo, Hamlet!: Myth, ritual, performance and the (un)becoming of history.... 78
Otaelo: Throes of symbolic presences and metaphoric absences........................ 97
Lear Ananci: Laalu gb’ode!: Esu, politics, and the aesthetics of transformation 125
Harlem Duet: Crying foul and ‘legitimizing’ the discontent of an Omo ale..... 144
Afterwords: Reflections on the analyses of the Orisa-Shakespeare..................... 177
Chapter Three
Introduction: Retelling Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar........................................ 180
Emi Caesar!...................................................................................................... 190
Conclusion.................................................................................................... 297
Appendix of Yoruba expressions in Emi, Caesar!....................................... 301
Works Cited.................................................................................................. 303
Ilustrations.................................................................................................... 315
Interviews...................................................................................................... 315
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List of Illustrations
Opon Ifa........................................................................................................ 54
Iroke.............................................................................................................. 54
Medium Mahogany Opon Ifa....................................................................... 56
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GLOSSARY OF YORUBA EXPRESSIONS
aasan---the power to curse and drive insane.
adabi--- Except it is not so.
Af’ogbon ologbon sogbon ni kii je ka pe agba ni were ---To learn from other
people’s mistake is a sign of maturity and wisdom.
Agemo--- a mask ritual popular among the Ijebu in Yorubaland.
ajegbogbo ti nwe’ni kun ‘ra ---The haughty fellow desperately in search of

company.
Aje---power to enact spiritual communication.
ako a t’abo--- male/female principles.
Akunleyan---that which is chosen kneeling.
Arigisegi to ba segi, ori ara e lo maa fi gbe---The wood insects which gather
sticks always bear the load on themselves.
Aroko--- a coded metaphor/language formed from a combination of

different materials, meant to discreetly pass a message across to the receiver.
Ase/Ashe---the force and/or power by which things come into existence,

and are taken charge of.
atubotan ---essence of life.
Atunda—the mythical personality credited with the coming into existence

of the Orisa pantheon.
aworan--- a generic term for any artistic representations in two or three

dimensions.
ayajo/awure--- the opposite of epe (see below).
Ayamno o gboogun---There is no armour against fate.
Ayanmo---that which is chosen or affixed to someone.
aye---the visible and the tangible world of the living.
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B’oko ba ro’kun, bo r’osa, dandan ni ko f’abo f’elebute---After the ebbs
and tides, the canoe must return to the shores.
Bara--- (royal mausoleum) often set up for kings or royalty.
Bi ko s’eniyan, imale o si—The gods would not be, if humanity are not ; a
statement that underscores the relational nature of the Yoruba universe
between human beings and their ancestors, represented in part by the Orisa.
Bi Ori ti pin o gb’ebo--- The portion affixed to Ori can never be propitiated
with sacrifices.
Bibii re ko see f’owo ra; ki a bi’ni ko to ka tun ‘ra eni bi ---Financial/social

freedom does not necessarily determine the circumstance of birth; to be born
is not as important as finding one’s feet in life.
Candombles—(Dance in honour of the gods), a creolized version of

traditional Yoruba belief and rituals brought by enslaved captives to Brazil
and other parts of Portuguese colonies in the New World.
E gba mii, kaa ma kan?--- Oh dear, what is this?
ebo— sacrifice.
eeta motif ---three separate entities regarded as one.
eni-ori-sa-da--- the Select Heads/Deities
Eniyan bo ni lara ju aso lo---People are better raiment.
eniyan rere/daadaa--- (good person) or eniyan buruku (bad/haughty

person).
epe--- curse, or strong diabolic words hauled at someone/thing at the height

of anger.
Esu ma se ‘mi, omo elomiran ni o se---Esu, do not tempt me or make me

fall into errors; tempt others.
etutu/ipese--- various forms of appeasement often prescribed to a client by

as Babalawo (diviner).
gbolohun--- tone of finality with metaphysical correspondence.
Ibi ori da’ni si la a gbe--- Wherever fate determines is home(land).
Ifa, a body of knowledge about Yoruba epistemology and its aesthetic.
ikose w’aye--- “Stepping into the World”; rites observed for a new-born to
“discover” her/his destiny.
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Iku ya ju esin---Death is more honourable than disgrace.
Ile Ogere--- (Sacred/Mother Earth).
Ile Yoruba—Yoruba land.
imo---mastery of time-honoured conventions.
imoose---technical proficiency.
imori--- Knowing the Head”; akin to the previous.
imule---oath.
Ina esisi kii jo’ni lee meji ---One does not fall on the same spot twice.
Ipin-Ori---allotment.
Iroke--- divination tapper.
Isebo isoogun, bi a ti yan ki a to wa s’aye laari--- In spite of sacrifice and

medicine, we are still what we chose before coming to the earth.
itan—story, narrative, history.
itumo--- to untie or unknot knowledge.
Iwa ni Orisa, bi a ba ti huu sin ii fii gbe ni---Character is an orisa, as we

worship orisa so s/he favours us, and if we behave well we get her/his
support.
iwi/esa, oriki, rara, ijala--- all forms of oral/verbal arts among the Yoruba.
Ko s’ohun ti o n’itan--- Nothing is, which lacks a story.
O ku tan, o d’Oosa, o d’eni a-kunle-bo--- Having died, he became a Deity,

worshipped on bended knees.
ofo ase---the power to pray effectively.
Ogbon die, were die--- Much wisdom, little foolishness.
Ogbon lo so ‘le aye ro---Wisdom is the anchor that holds the world in place.
Ojo to ro s’ewuro, lo ro s’ireke--- the same rain which falls on the

sugarcane, also falls on bitter-leaf.
oju inu--- literally “inner eye” or “insight.”
ojuimo---lit. “artistic eye.”
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ojuona--design consciousness.
Omo t’aye ba bi, l’aye ngbe jo--- circumstance of birth often determines
temperament, society produces its own kind of people.
Omo t’eya ba bi, eya lo maa jo---The baboon can only produce its own kind.
Opon Ifa--- divination tray.
Opo-sisu--- the custom of leviration.
Ori--- “head,” an individual’s spiritual essence, the controlling feature of

personhood.
ori inu--- inner essence.
Orirun---source, origin, identity.
OrisaNla—the Essence, Original Whole.
Orisa—several of the manifestations of Olodumare (God) in Yoruba belief.
Orita-meta tii n daamu alejo---crossroads; the point of turbulence,

confusion and despair.
orita-meta---crossroads.
Orixa--- also Orisha/oricha is another of the religions in the New World
which trace their roots to Yoruba tradition.
Oro---power of words.
orun---the invisible realm of spiritual forces.
owe (proverb)---short, even detailed, saying noted as a kernel of wisdom.
owe-onitan---proverbial story.
Owo ara eni la fi ntun oro ara eni i se---We choose our path in life.
Patakin—another religious rites closely identified with Santeria.
Pele--- a form of greeting and of warning.
Santeria—(Regla de Ochá, La Regla de Ifá or Lucumi), a syncretism of

Yoruba and Roman Catholic rituals.
tunfunalo---Interpreter of riddles.
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Vodun— (“spirit” in Fon language) also Vodon, Vodoun, Vodou, Voudou
or Voodoo, mostly practised by the Ewe people, in Ghana and, in the Yoruba
diaspora.
yipada---to turn around or to translate.
Yoruba—a group originally located in the south-west of Nigeria and with a

universally acknowledged presence in the USA, North America, Asia and
the Caribbean. They are also identified by a common religion and language,
“Yoruba” marked by its tonal features.
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FOREWORD
The foundation of this PhD research was laid many years ago while I was at the Centre
for Cultural Studies (now Dept. of Creative Arts) University of Lagos, Akoka, where I
started professional practice under the tutelage of the late Prof Bode Osanyin,
distinguished writer/cultural aficionado and artistic director of the Centre. It was an
experience that complemented my childhood upbringing at Iwaya, where I grew up in
an environment of ritual aesthetics symbolized by the Egungun Ayemowa of the Ado
Ekiti cult, and the regular rehearsals by Chief Leke Ajao (Kokonsari) theatre group and
those by Hubert Ogunde (Doyen of Nigerian theatre) theatre company that I watched
(along with children my age) at his Noble street residence, Alagomeji, which was not
far from my house. Many years later as an Associate Member of the Centre and one of
the crop of performers in Osanyin’s Akuro Theatre, I learnt what it truly means to be
called a thespian (the first but brief taste of which I had as a student at the Federal
College of Education, Osiele, Ogun State). However, although I had won a couple of
awards prior to 1997, my writing career got its initial deserved international boost that
year when I was invited onto the International Playwright Programme of the Royal
Court Theatre, London, tagged “New Writing in Nigeria,” supported by the British
Council and the Genesis Foundation, UK. As a writer, I have gone ahead to collaborate
with many other international theatre companies, notably, FLINN Theater, Gernany in
the project, POWER PLAY.
Inspired by the vision of the English Stage Company (as the Royal Court
Theatre was known in 1956 when it was set up under the artistic director, George
Devine) which prides itself as “the writers’ theatre, and a leading force in world theatre
for energetically cultivating writers [who are] undiscovered, emerging and
established,” and drawing from my robust experience of writing plays such as Moremi
(Winner, NANTAP/FESTINA, 2002 Drama Award), Oya (University of Lagos
Convocation play, 2006), For Heroes and Scoundrels to name a few, I began a series
of experimental plays in which I appropriated Yoruba myth, ritual and aesthetics, to
create a “new” genre of “adaptation” that was quite unlike what has been seen in Nigeria
or elsewhere. The first set of the experiments: Soyinka in the eye of Shakespeare, was
12
read at the Play Reading Session of the National Troupe of Nigeria in 2009 after my
return from London where I had gone to attend an international writers’ workshop
organized by the Royal Court Theatre; Harlem Remembered! was selected for the
inaugural Atlanta Black Theatre Festival, Atlanta Georgia, USA, in 2012, while Love
and Colours in Delphi has been performed by many professional theatre companies and
students in several universities in Nigeria. These works, while being bold and daring in
their characterization and themes, also reveal the potentialities of approaching familiar
stories with “new” and unique tools of understanding, much of which this PhD thesis
demonstrates.
Moreover, the immediate motivation for this research was my consternation on

discovering that, in spite of Shakespeare’s global popularity the same cannot be said of
the English Bard in Nigeria. This realization came about after two incidents which I
like to relate. First it was the reaction of the audience, at the reading of Soyinka in the
eye of Shakespeare (based on Soyinka’s Death and the King’s Horseman and
Shakespeare’s Macbeth), who found the play “hard” to understand, if not illogical. In
2012, a similar reaction was recorded at Wole Oguntokun/Renegade Theatre audition
for Itan Oginintin. Many of the actors found the classical Yoruba language of the play
“difficult” to read, no less their obvious limited knowledge of the Yoruba precepts
employed by the playwright as shown by their perception of the play which they
considered “disjointed and lacking a coherent storyline,” not to mention the fact that
some of them had never heard of Shakespeare’s The Winter’s Tale, upon which the new
one was based.
Whereas some of the themes of Shakespeare’s plays resonate with our own
practical experience the examples of which Soyinka in the eye of Shakespeare (as others
that I have written after it) and Itan Oginintin clearly demonstrate, considering the
reactions of the audience at my play’s reading and the actors’ at Oguntokun’s audition,
it was clear that Shakespeare’s relevance to our society has been largely undiscovered;
as it were, in Nigeria, unlike in South Africa for example, Shakespeare is only a name,
among many others!
Consequently, while I came up with the idea of the textual analyses of the
cultural and political relevance of African and diaspora adaptations of Shakespeare to
their various societies in the PhD proposal that I submitted to the Theatre programme
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of Victoria University of Wellington, I also emphasized the dramaturgical aspect
bearing in mind my own experience as a writer who also has considerable knowledge
of the Yoruba Ifa which embodies both the Yoruba epistemology and its aesthetic
principles. Hence, drawing from my two decades of theatre practice more than half of
which has been devoted to writing, it was a refreshing experience to be able to develop
a new genre of Shakespeare adaptation which I have termed “Orisa-Shakespeare” that
draws inspiration from Yoruba myth, ritual and aesthetics and the well-established
postcolonial Shakespeare scholarship, in order to speak directly to our experience as a
people. While my examples might not be unique in terms of using Yoruba resources,
since Soyinka, Ola Rotimi et al have pioneered such area of dramaturgy, my approach
is unique because it not only explores an area that has been overlooked in Nigeria
(Shakespeare [adaptation] scholarship), it also establishes ways in which familiar
ritual/aesthetic resources can be deployed for that purpose.
With this PhD research, I do hope that an opening up possibility has been
identified which, while drawing from local resources of Yoruba culture and aesthetics,
uses Shakespeare as a searchlight for future discoveries that would serve the society.
Thus far, it has been a fairly long journey, and it still continues...I suppose.
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Orisa-Shakespeare: A Study of Shakespeare Adaptations Inspired by the Yoruba Tradition
Introduction
Tracing Atunda’s Path on Shakespeare’s Island
“O ku tan, o d’Oosa, o d’eni a-kunle-bo”
[Having died, he became a Deity, worshipped on

bended knees]
-- Yoruba proverb --
“All roads lead to Shakespeare, or perhaps it might be

more correct to say that Shakespeare leads to all roads.”
(Bentley 107).
In this thesis I aim to use Yoruba epistemology and aesthetic principles to study some
selected postcolonial Shakespeare adaptations which I term Orisa-Shakespeare, in
order to understand what they mean in their cultural and political contexts. While
there have been several postcolonial adaptations of Shakespeare which “write back”
by challenging the cultural capital that Shakespeare privileges, the Orisa-Shakespeare
are different in approach and use of aesthetic resources to serve that purpose. While
this body of works continues to grow steadily, no attention has been paid to them.
This thesis aims to address that gap. I also intend to develop a Yoruba theory of
Shakespeare adaptation based on and influenced by Yoruba worldview, aesthetic
principles and politics to perform the aforementioned task, and use the insights of
both the textual analyses and theory to also develop a new play that alludes to Julius
Caesar in order to critique Nigeria’s current socio-political reality.
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Ile Yoruba or Yorubaland is situated in the south-western parts of Nigeria. Its

territories extend to “the swamps and lagoons of the coast” down to the “woodland
savannah and distant bend of the Niger” thus covering a distance that roughly equates
the size of Great Britain (Smith 7). The Yoruba also boast of a strong presence in the
New World where their spirituality has been re-imagined to suit their new
environments (Jones 321); and lay claim to a heritage noted throughout its diasporic
history for “its quiet resilience and capacity for survival in foreign languages and
cultures, as well as in artistic forms and theories” (Wright 6-11). The spread by the
Yoruba ensured their development of a very strong diaspora in places like the
Americas, Europe, Asia, Canada, USA and the Caribbean, and has equally influenced
the development and practice of religions such as Candombles, Orixa, Santeria,
Vodun, Patakin to name the most popular and widespread (Lima 33-42). The same
religious knowledge/practice has influenced the literature that developed along with
it, even though this body of works is mostly oral in nature. Abiola Irele explains that:
In no other area of Africa is the elaboration in literature

of a continuous stream of the collective consciousness
from the traditional to the modern so clearly evident, and
so well marked out, as in Yoruba land […]. In Yoruba
land we have the extraordinary situation where the vast
folk literature, alive and vigorously contemporary,
remains available to provide a constant support for new
forms. (Irele 175; emphasis added)
Some of the “new forms” being supported by Yoruba aesthetic resources adapt
Shakespeare as a means to mediating between tradition and modernity.
When Michael Bristol declares that “Shakespeare is the name of a titular deity
or cult object” (19), in America, he inadvertently describes Shakespeare like a Yoruba
orisa, one among many of the avatars from the pantheon of spiritual/elemental forces
who wield significant control over the people. Yoruba mythology locates the roots of
this body of spiritual beings in the earliest beginning of the people’s cultural and
political history. In the following paragraphs, I will trace the origin of the avatars and
spiritual beings and their utilization in Yoruba literature in order to explain how I have
come about the term, Orisa-Shakespeare. I will also explain what Orisa-Shakespeare
Page | 2
means, the features that distinguish them from other known adaptations of
Shakespeare, the adaptive strategies that they employ and why the knowledge of
Yoruba ritual and aesthetics is useful for their exploration.
In the Yoruba mythology, Atunda, whose name means “reinvention” is

credited with bringing the Orisa pantheon into being. According to the story, in the
earliest beginning was an Absolute god-head, Orisa Nla (Grand Divinity), who
presided over a big farm and countless labourers/servants, one of whom was Atunda.
While the Absolute god-head, Orisa Nla, rested under a big tree one day, Atunda
pushed down a huge boulder that smashed him into countless pieces. The scattered
fragments from the “original Whole” became multiple gods and goddesses. The
divinities and humanity experienced grief over the separation of “essence” from
“self”; famine scorched the earth, men’s semen dried up in the reproductive sac and
women’s menstruation completely ceased--- human existence was threatened by
chaos consequent upon Atunda’s daring act. At some point in time however, both the
deities and humans developed a nostalgia for the earthly wholeness within which they
used to live before the Orisa Nla bang, and decided to come together once again. The
coming together of these uncountable pieces of the spark from the original Source
resulted in the formation of the Orisa pantheon (Adeeko 15-6). In view of this act, the
Yoruba universe is considered to be a shared relational and interactive space
populated by human beings and their ancestry, which is represented in part by the
pantheon. The Yoruba saying, “Bi ko si eniyan, imale o si” (The gods would not be, if
humanity are not), clearly underscores this spirit-human interactive conception of the
Yoruba universe.
As the centre of the Yoruba universe, the Orisa are believed to possess
“politically and socially significant historical realities” among the people (Washington
59). They are often conceived in physical terms by the people, who believe that the
Orisa are ever present and influence human actions. This accounts for conceiving the
relationships between humans and the Orisa as the projection of the relations between
people in the society (Barber 724). And far from being static, this relationship is
continually reworked in response to the people’s actual struggles and experiences in
changing historical circumstances (Barber 1988:xi), which reflects the dynamic nature
of the Orisa, their capacity to “adapt” to new and changing situation, as they are
conceived by the people.
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The aesthetic conception of the Orisa in physical terms constitutes their

archetypal signification. This conception requires the perception of the Orisa in
human/physical essences and drawing from both their individual and collective
attributes by which they are identified, in order to address social concerns. The Orisa
share a specific pattern of signification “that enlarges the apprehension of the
regulatory principles of life, within the cosmic framework of [Yoruba] terrestrial
existence” (Jeyifo xiii). The Orisa and their attributes include, but are not limited to:
Ogun… the god of creation, the principles of assertive, restless,

exploratory will, the patron god of blacksmiths, carvers, hunters,
and in a technological world, of drivers and precision-tool
machinists; Obatala, the god of creation itself, principle of
spiritual purity, of patience, forbearance, and the moral necessity
of suffering and ascetic self-control; Sango, the sky god, the
medium of electrical energy and scourge of criminals and felons;
Orunmila, the oracular god of wisdom, the presiding spirit of
those capable of prescient probing into the unknown, the
unanticipated; and his companion, Esu, the trickster god of
chance and indeterminacy. (xiv)1
Conceiving of the Orisa from these patterns of signification not only illustrates the
creative aspect of the Yoruba mind (I mean here a people given to profound aesthetic
conception as I suppose we have in other cultures) but also how the people “pose their
own social questions or formulate their own moralities” from their own specific
mytho-historical experiences. It also underlines how Yoruba aesthetic consideration
influences and is influenced, by a multi-level experience of the spiritual and the
mundane.
In Yoruba literature, the Orisa are given to recognizable human frailties and
emotions as are the human beings over whom they superintend. In such situations, the
Orisa are stripped of their divine properties and, in some cases, subjected to death.
Yet, the dilution of the esoteric with the profane does not erode their essence: the gods
1The list of the Orisa is definitely more than what Jeyifo provides here: some tradition puts the figure at 1400; and
we should also note that Jeyifo’s description of Esu as the trickster is not an entirely correct perception of the deity
but the popularly held view in the Yoruba diaspora. Esu is also erroneously perceived as the equivalent of the
Devil/Satan in some quarters.
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may “die” or change their appearance, but the essential “godness” remains (Soyinka,
qtd in Priere 81). The stories of Yoruba gods and their apotheosis are always ones of
heroism, of great deeds, supreme conquest and exemplary will tainted by weakness
and, sometimes, remorse. For examples, the desire to surpass his grandfather’s
achievement drove Sango to lengths beyond his reach resulting in his eventual
suicide; Ogun’s prowess is marred by one moment of ludicrousness, while Obatala’s
divine task of creation was once disrupted by a moment of “recklessness” under the
influence of alcohol. The consequences of the gods’ frailties, and what brings them
firmly “within the overall framework of fallibility” that are emphasized in Yoruba
literature, as Soyinka contends, “are measured in human terms and such gods are
placed under an eternal obligation of some form of practical penance which
compensates humanity” (13). Besides, the essentiality of myth the type of which
produced the Orisa is at once the recognition of the constant regenerative cycle of the
god-human relationship and the recognition of the fact that “the past exists now, this
moment, it is co-existent in present awareness [and] it clarifies the present and
explains the future” (Soyinka 1969:19; emphasis added), while literature that uses this
type of myth, strives to make society aware of its essence while articulating its reality.
Although the conception of the Orisa in human/physical essences in Yoruba

literature often focuses on their frailties (and those frailties being human society’s
measure of its own ethical standard), the aim of such aesthetic conception is not
necessarily to emphasize their weakness but to use them as thematic analogy that
serves the society. Above everything else, the pantheon is “a symbol of political life
and of many competing, but coexisting, agendas involving order and disorder”
(Soyinka 16). Thus, the motivation behind their conception as archetypes of
behaviour is for human society to learn how the sensitive grasp of the Orisa’s forms
and nature could help people live harmoniously among themselves in the society.
Consequently, when Soyinka pays homage to the Yoruba Orisa for “their
sacrifice on the altar of literature” and seeks to “press them into further service on
behalf of human society, and its explication of being,” I consider his commemoration
of the deities as an example of some aspects of what the Orisa-Shakespeare entail.
This last point brings up the questions: What then is Orisa-Shakespeare? What
distinguishes the Orisa-Shakespeare from other types of Shakespeare adaptations?
Why are they important to us to the extent that they warrant their study? These are
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questions necessary to guide us through the objectives of this thesis. In the following
sub-section, I will introduce the Orisa-Shakespeare.
Orisa-Shakespeare: a conceptual framework
Orisa-Shakespeare refers to a body of Shakespeare adaptations/appropriations that are

written by people of Yoruba origin in Nigeria and its diaspora as well as those plays
which reflect or resonate with Yoruba cultural and aesthetic principles, irrespective of
the adapter’s nationality or the distance in terms of space and time to the Yorubaland
of Nigeria. I also use the term to denote a burgeoning body of adaptations of
Shakespeare which addresses its society’s concerns rather than challenge the cultural
capital that Shakespeare privileges. Thus, instead of “writing back” as it were, these
sets of adaptation “write forward” as an attempt to address the failings in their
societies.
Among the many plays that qualify as Orisa-Shakespeare based on my

description above, this thesis focuses on six including three written by African-born
writers, and three authors representing the Yoruba diaspora: Femi Osofisan’s Wesoo,
Hamlet! (adaptation of Hamlet from Yorubaland, south-west Nigeria); Ahmed
Yerima’s Otaelo (adaptation of Othello from Igboland, south-east Nigeria); Welcome
Msomi’s uMabatha (Zulu adaptation of Macbeth from South Africa); Davlin
Thomas’s Lear Ananci (adaptation of King Lear from Trinidad and Tobago, English-
speaking Caribbean); Aimé Césaire’s A Tempest (adaptation of The Tempest, from
Martinique Republic, French-speaking Caribbean), and Djanet Sears’s Harlem Duet
(adaptation of Othello, from Canada North America) respectively. These works are
exemplary in their use of Yoruba epistemology and its aesthetic principles and are
marked by a conscious attempt to address their societies.
In classifying these adaptations as such, I apply the knowledge from Yoruba

mythology to postcolonial Shakespeare adaptation discourse by construing the
Atunda/Orisa Nla episode as a metaphor for the adapters/Shakespeare relationship in
terms of how the former use the latter to give expression to their own realities.
Atunda, also known as “re-creator” and/or “re-creation” since act and actor are
inseparable, embodies a trinity in the nature of the adaptation genre: as the source of
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new creation, the process of the new creation and the creation itself. In this sense,
Atunda functions as the spirit of the texts that I have classified as Orisa-Shakespeare.
As I will show below, three key features distinguish Orisa-Shakespeare from other
types of adaptations of Shakespeare: the deployment of myth, ritual imagination, and
spiritual consciousness respectively. While these three features may not be unique to
the Yoruba but exemplary of specific instances of common features of many other
postcolonial Shakespearean adaptations, the cultural specificity of Orisa-Shakespeare
is unique. This is because, as we shall see in my analyses later on, the Orisa-
Shakespeare are examples of post-colonial theatre (and Shakespeare adaptations) that
reflect and integrate indigenous epistemologies (specifically of the Yoruba
provenance) and translate them into dramaturgy.
In this body of works that I term Orisa-Shakespeare, I identify an abiding

interest in, and the deployment of, myth as a vehicle of narration. For the Yoruba,
myth represents an “historical inner reality” often revealed in objective recognizable
symbols. It also refers to a narrative “that explains, explores or attempts to resolve the
primary ontological, psychological and physical contradictions that [the Yoruba] have
recurrently faced” (Priebe 12). As I intend to prove through the Orisa-Shakespeare,
myth is a fundamental aspect of life that helps the Yoruba to view society’s challenges
and proffer solutions to its problems. Therefore, myth, as I mean it here, transcends its
description as mere stories of creation by indigenous societies, it also represents a
means to examine socio-political situations in order to understand them.
I also consider ritual imagination to be another feature that distinguishes the

Orisa-Shakespeare from other types of Shakespeare adaptations. Ritual, either in the
form of ebo (sacrifice), etutu and/or ipese (various forms of appeasement) and
elaborate rites as recommended by the Babalawo after an Ifa divination session, is
believed to be potent, functional and redemptive. Although I also have in mind the
social relevance of ritual including its functional, potent and redemptive value, my
idea of ritual imagination excludes the purely sacred and religious attempt by human
beings to understand inexplicable situations. Rather, I aim to emphasize “its
theatrico-aesthetic context” (Balme 66), from the perspective of its efficacy that
derives from a literary/performative reality and its therapeutic/visionary
potentialities.
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Given this explanation, by “ritual imagination,” I mean first and foremost a

faculty of mental images that suggests a peculiar worldview, namely the Yoruba.
Hope Eghagha explains that ritual imagination could mean “the socio-cultural
orientation found in the micro-cosmos that is presented in a play which view all
actions as transcendental phenomena” (5), some of which may proceed from the
relationship between characters and the society, interpersonal relationships and the
likes. In other words, ritual imagination refers to the frame of mind and unity of
vision underlying the Orisa-Shakespeare as “guided by certain social, environmental
and cultural currents” (6) derived from the Yoruba provenance which gives the works
meaning in their cultural context. The relationship shared by the fictive characters in
the plays is governed by taboos, symbolic rites and the observance of certain norms
and values, and especially the interpretation of both natural and supernatural events,
daily incidences and occurrences from a mystical perspective.
Although the religious atmosphere differs from one text to another, the
worlds created in the Orisa-Shakespeare: Wesoo, Hamlet!, Otaelo, uMabatha, Lear
Ananci, A Tempest and Harlem Duet are unified by an underlying deeply-ritualistic
phenomenon in spite of a temporal form of existence that is equally suggested in
them. Ritual imagination in these texts takes us into the human cathartic state, the
deep, spiritual consciousness in which material concerns are discarded and subsumed
under the transcendental and the spiritual (220). As it were, an analysis of the Orisa-
Shakespeare from the Yoruba ontological perspective shows that there is a peculiarity
in the narrative approach adopted by the adapters which is driven by the same
aesthetic consciousness that is informed by ritual imagination.
Although I do acknowledge that the Orisa-Shakespeare have equally

incorporated, utilized and even merged foreign or Western literary/theatrical tools
such as language, act and scene division among others with traditional Yoruba forms
which necessarily require their undergoing a “process of recoding,” of the
“syncretism of culturally heterogeneous signs and code” to use Balme’s expression.
While they are open to some other perspective of understanding in view of this fact,
they still retain elements that make it possible to view them as products of ritual
imagination as I have explained.2 In this sense, they remain cultural texts which
2For example, scholars have engaged Cesaire’s A Tempest and Sears’ Harlem Duet as examples of postcolonial
appropriations of Shakespeare which “write back” by the means of counter-discursive metatheatre.
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“retain their integrity as bearers of precisely defined cultural meaning” (Balme 5),
that is projected as a consciousness and/or spiritual essence in the lives of the
characters, the settings (environments) as well as objects in such environments, the
cultural context of all of which is specifically the Yoruba provenance.
The spiritual consciousness that is projected in the Orisa-Shakespeare

suggests that the characters’ actions are linked to, or controlled by, forces beyond the
ordinary, and that their lives are overseen by a deep, or religious structures of a
universe that is governed by the Orisa. In this case, concerns with the supernatural
suggest an attachment of sacrality to actions, give coherence to their thoughts and
actions, which affect our understanding of the characters’ peculiar apprehension of
the cultural and social phenomena that they confront. For examples, the Igwe’s use of
his ofor (staff of office) to give consent to his daughter’s marriage to Otaelo, the osu,
constitutes a serious violation of sacred tradition and sets off the tragedy in Otaelo; a
similar violation of tradition occurs when Oba Sayedero is killed by his brother who
usurps his throne and marries his widow in Wesoo, Hamlet!, as is the murder of
Dangana by Mabatha whose action plunges Zululand into turmoil and chaos in
uMabatha.
Because sacredness is attached to the characters’ actions, the consequences of

their violation form the central driving force of the plays’ plot. These characters are
also shaped by a mythic consciousness that presents them as “marginal (wo)men,
liminal figures who appear to be partly in this world and partly in another…a liminal
condition [that] gives them potential power to shape and direct society” (Priere 5).
Although the characters’ actions are symbolic or quasi-symbolic and a means to an
end, they are informed by a profound sacred consciousness that proceeds from the
Yoruba cosmology as presented in the texts.
No less significant is the mentality of sacredness that is also attached to

symbols in the Orisa-Shakespeare: Caliban’s consciousness towards his mother,
Sycorax and the contested island which Prospero has seized from him in A Tempest;
the crossroads which Ananse occupies and the spider web he spins/ controls in Lear
Ananci;the handkerchief, miscarried foetus and Harlem, the setting of Harlem Duet;
the bara and Mask in Wesoo, Hamlet!, the sacred earth represented by Ala in Otaelo
among others, which are symbols that convey important meanings. The sacred
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universe (which also accommodates symbols) becomes the territory of “essence-ideal

around whose edges [hu]man beings fearfully skirt” (Soyinka 1), where the
characters in these plays negotiate the intricate balance between personal desire and
social stipulations. Of much importance, however, is the fact that the vast
supernatural universe that we find in the texts draws our attention to the similarity
that the Yoruba world shares with Shakespeare’s literary universe.
Shakespeare’s dramaturgy is also marked by an abiding interest in ritual and

the supernatural---a fact which serves as a strong point of connection between his
own world and the Yoruba universe that we encounter in the Orisa-Shakespeare. The
sequence of his fictive world, inhabited by forces, is balanced by sacrifices and rites
the sustenance or violation of which serves as raw materials for dramatic actions.
According to Wilson Knight:
Shakespeare’s dramatic world contains a variety of symbolisms;

black and white, magic, stories and earthquakes, resurrections
and mysterious music. [It is] a veritable fairyland of the
imagination, and yet insistently close-pinned to actuality, as the
rough material that his poetry, in various ways, spiritualises. (14)
As Knight rightly observes, in Shakespeare’s fictive world, we are often presented

with a system of correspondence between the macro-cosmic and the micro-cosmic
world of human beings in which, for example, a rebellious act against a king/throne
induces disruption to the universe. The murder of Duncan by Macbeth results in the
disruption to the supernatural and the “natural” order of things. In reporting the
incidents of the night Duncan was murdered, the Old Man tells Ross of how the “dark
night strangles the travelling lamp…/ That darkness does the face of earth
entomb/When living light should kiss it” (2.4.6-7), and Duncan’s horses, “Bounteous
and swift, the minions of their race,/Turn’d wild in nature, broke their stalls, flung
out,/Contending ‘gainst obedience, as they would make/War with mankind./‘Tis said,
they eat each other (2.4.14-18). In her edited volume on the works of Shakespeare,
Marjorie Garber describes the deep superstitious and uncanny background of Macbeth
and how the witches in the play have crossed the threshold from the Elizabethan
society where they are sourced onto the stage (695-6). In a similar way, the concern of
the Orisa-Shakespeare with the deep and religious essence and how it affects the
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characters’ interactions, also suggests the continued interest in the interaction of

human beings and sacred forces the example of which Shakespeare has himself
provided, while this feature also distinguishes the Orisa-Shakespeare from other types
of Shakespeare adaptations.
Moreover, the political significance of the texts are also located in their
cultural/ritual contexts. As the Orisa-Shakespeare take up a complex and ambivalent
relation to the Shakespeare canon, they also subscribe to the fact that any cultural
work “has to be studied in its specifics to see how political issues play out within and
are affected by that work.” This is more so with the knowledge that “any work of
culture has a history in which its political import is repeatedly transformed” (Fischlin
and Fortier 5-6). For instance, the relevance of Yerima’s Otaelo to discussing and
understanding the political implications of the ongoing agitation for Biafran
Independence by the Igbo tribal group based on their perceived marginalization in
Nigerian politics, and its relationship to the issue of Osu and its culture of ostracism
among the same Igbo people, typifies the kind of political significance that a work of
culture such as any of the Orisa-Shakespeare deals with.
The last point brings us to the discussion of the adaptive strategies employed
by the Orisa-Shakespeare. There are usually a range of approaches adopted by
adapters of the Shakespeare canon: some seek to supplant or overthrow; others
borrow from Shakespeare’s status to give resonance to their own efforts (Fischlin and
Fortier 6). The admiration for Shakespeare by adapters that encourages a
collaboration with, and the authorization of, their own work with Shakespeare’s
describes Otaelo and uMabatha. In the “Author’s Note” to his play, Yerima mentions
his admiration for Shakespeare whom he describes as a genius that is endowed with a
unique writing skill so that dramatists like himself could translate his works into their
own languages and cultural realities in order to better appreciate the true nature of
human beings (6); Msomi admits that the idea of his own play was motivated by the
admiration for Shakespeare having acted previously in Julius Caesar and Macbeth
which he later adapted (qtd in McMurtry 311). Osofisan also mentions that Wesoo,
Hamlet! dramatizes a familiar story, as an “echo of another one of many centuries ago
written by Shakespeare in order to avert the tragedy that is about to happen” (8), while
Thomas mentions that Lear Ananci is a “poignant re-interpretation of Shakespeare’s
play that takes a deep metaphoric journey into Caribbean politics.” While these
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adaptations use Shakespeare’s authority to establish their own, A Tempest and Harlem
Duet employ radical adaptive strategies in their approach to the Shakespeare texts that
they adapt. The two plays have previously been read and studied by scholars as
examples of plays of “canonical counter-discourse” (Tiffin 22), of the adaptations of
Shakespeare which question the Bard’s privileged canonical status. Adaptations
classified into this category rework the privileged narratives of the literary and
dramatic canon by “inserting their own previously absent perspectives and voices” or
reimagining the earlier narratives “from different perspectives or in different places
and times to stake a claim on the canon” (McKinnon 8). In this thesis however, and as
Orisa-Shakespeare which draw from the Yoruba episteme and its aesthetic principles,
I invert such functions accorded the two plays in postcolonial Shakespeare
scholarship. Instead of being studied as adaptations which challenge the cultural
capital that Shakespeare privileges, I examine both A Tempest and Harlem Duet along
with the rest of the Orisa-Shakespeare with a view to uncovering their cultural and
political relevance to their own specific societies.3
I aim to analyse the Orisa-Shakespeare as textual materials in order to

uncover the Yoruba epistemic and aesthetic resources that have been used by the
adapters, although I also recognize their potentials as theatrical adaptations. This
approach is not out of place because “a printed text is more available to close reading
than a “staging,” and it is less daunting to consider agency of an author than to
consider how it is diffused among various people who jointly create a mise en scene”
(McKinnon 11); more so with the fact that the mythic-consciousness and ritual
imagination that distinguish the Orisa-Shakespeare from other types of Shakespeare
adaptations do not necessarily rely on textual/theatrical dichotomy before they could
be studied and/or understood.
I also aim to write a new play that draws materials from Shakespeare’s Julius
Caesar in order to address tribal bigotry which is currently the major threat to the
continued existence of Nigeria. Of the myriads of problems facing Nigeria, none is as
threatening as the one posed by tribalism. While relationship among the three main
ethnic groups (Yoruba, Hausa/Fulani and Igbo) is often marked by violence and
3 I have elected to closely examine only Harlem Duet, but draw examples from A Tempest in my development of
the Yoruba theory in Chapter One because of the need to balance the selection of texts that I study as examples of
both Orisa-Shakespeare representing “Home” and “Diaspora.” More so, considering that Cesaire’s text has
enjoyed much more attention than the rest of the texts assembled here, I consider this choice appropriate.
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extremism, the sub-groups within the larger groups are also torn apart by the same
sense of “who we are” and “who we are not.” In writing the play to warn about the
potential danger and possibility of disintegration that the situation portends for the
country, I am encouraged by Benhabib’s notion of “the redemptive power of
narrative” (169), and the example of Shakespeare who wrote Julius Caesar in 1599
to warn his own people about the danger of the outbreak of war over succession,
having seen the deadly alliances and schemes, following the aged Queen Elizabeth’s
inability to produce an heir and successor to the English throne. In doing that,
Shakespeare turned to ancient Rome and dramatized the story of Caesar’s
assassination as well as the consequences to the society’s continued existence and its
leadership. While some might argue that Caesar’s death does not mark the fall but the
rise of the Roman Empire, Nigeria may not survive her own crisis considering how
badly the country has been fractured by this endemic social anomaly. As evident in
the menace constituted by the Islamic fundamentalist group, Boko Haram in the
northeastern parts of Nigeria; the renewed agitation for the recognition of the
Republic of Biafra by some sections of the Igbo populace in the southeast of Nigeria,
and the Niger Delta Avengers, a splinter group from MEND (Movement for the
Emancipation of the Niger Delta) in the South-south region of the country, the
country wages a war against itself. While these uprisings are not direct results of
ethnic/tribal agitation as it were, they are nonetheless intimately attached to it.
This thesis addresses a gap in the growing body of scholarship on Shakespeare

adaptation which has thus far failed to recognize Yoruba adaptations as such. Interest
in the appropriation of Shakespeare in several cultures across the globe has continued
to grow over the years. Excellent works such as Cartelli’s Repositioning Shakespeare:
National Formations, Postcolonial Appropriations (1995); Aebischer, Esche and
Wheale’s Remaking Shakespeare: Performance across Media, Genre and Culture
(2003); Orkin’s Local Shakespeare: Proximations and Power (2005); Trivedi and
Bartholomeusz’s India’s Shakespeare (2005), and Massai’s World-Wide
Shakespeares: Local Appropriations in Film and Performance (2005) and many
others, focus on the adaptive strategies and socio-cultural and political concerns that
the “global Shakespeares” engage across diverse genres; some demonstrate “the
global presence of Shakespeare under colonialism and imperialism, and the
possibilities of postcolonial critique, interpretation and reinvention of both the
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Shakespeare text and the signifier ‘Shakespeare’” (Frassineli 58). However, in spite of
the claim by the editors of some of these volumes about bringing together a wide
spectrum of analyses of adaptations of Shakespeare across the globe, no significant
attention has been given to either the Yoruba culture or the Orisa-Shakespeare as this
thesis intends to do.
For example, editors Craig Dionne and Parmita Kapadia claim that Native
Shakespeares: Indigenous Appropriation on a Global Stage (2008), brings together
“global” transformations of Shakespeare that draw from “local traditions, values, and
languages of various communities and cultures around the world” (6), yet none of the
book’s twelve essays discusses Yoruba tradition, or its utilization in the
transformation of the texts analysed even though there is Aimé Césaire’s A Tempest,
which explicitly draws from the same Yoruba culture and tradition. In his essay on A
Tempest, Pier Paolo Frassineli only makes a passing observation about Césaire’s
awareness of Yoruba myth, but focuses on what he calls the “multicultural” approach
to the text which calls for a theory of transculturation (173-86), without engaging how
Césaire deploys the cultural and political content of Yoruba myth and ritual. In spite
of the claim by the editors of Native Shakespeares-- to have drawn together essays
which situate Shakespeare in a range of social (and cultural) practices-- the Yoruba
culture is excluded. It is this kind of omission that I aim to address in this thesis.
Although I acknowledge that the Orisa-Shakespeare come from different
places and differ in many ways, they can be productively explored together through
the lens of the Yoruba concept of itan. Itan, which translates variously as “tale,”
“story” or “narrative” is a central aesthetic reality among the Yoruba. At the same
time, the people also understand that the value of itan transcends the Yoruba
geographical location. The essence of itan shows that what constitutes “Yoruba” is not
only determined by locality and population, but also by the body of knowledge and
cultural, spiritual and political experiences that the Yorubaland share with other
peoples and cultures (Jones 321-2), either in Africa or across the globe.
I am aware of the pitfalls in applying Yoruba episteme to explain texts that are
not written specifically into the Yoruba culture. I also do not assume that African
cultures, or other cultures for that matter, are “an open book to each other”. In
applying Yoruba knowledge as a lens to examine the texts in this thesis however, I
hope to draw from the sense of an “African Literature,” one which draws resources
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“from a conception of community growing out of an African metaphysics” (Appiah

108-13), that I believe the Yoruba ethos represents. Thus, in applying Yoruba culture
to explore plays which reflect or resonate with Yoruba cultural and aesthetic
principles, I hope that the “metaphysical examination” of the texts can yield their
political purposes.
Besides, shared cultural elements and the historical connection of the Yoruba
to many people and cultures in Africa and the Yoruba diaspora could serve as
evidence to support the potentials of exploring the Orisa-Shakespeare through a
Yoruba lens. For examples, the Ewe peoples who are composed largely of Togo,
Benin, Ghana and, especially the Ga peoples of Ghana, claim that their original place
of origin is Ile-Ife, the spiritual home of the Yoruba (Nukunya 68); among the list of
the children of Oduduwa, the progenitor of the Yoruba race, were Oninana “who
founded his kingdom in what was then known as Gold Coast (Ghana) today” and
Obarada “who was driven to found latterly the kingdom of Dahomey” which is in the
Republic of Benin (Akinjogbin 250-51). The connection of the Yoruba to many Black
people in the New World has been adequately documented, while the influence of the
Yoruba culture and rituals are still evident in most of these communities and countries
today.
My objective in this thesis which is to explore the cultural and political

contexts of the Orisa-Shakespeare, requires a methodology that is deeply rooted in,
and draws from, the Yoruba worldview and its aesthetic principles. As both textual
and theatrical adaptations, the Orisa-Shakespeare “blend rituals and myth-based
material into a theatrico-aesthetic context” (Balme 66) that does not demarcate the
line between theatre and ritual. Scholars of anthropology and Intercultural
Performance, such as Victor Turner, Margaret Drewal, and Christopher Balme, have
dealt extensively with this subject, even in relation to Yoruba ritual and performance.
Turner identifies fluidity and flexibility as characteristic features of ritualized

performance in pre-scribal cultures (including the Yoruba) in which there is often a
flawless combination of acoustic, kinesic, and visual sign systems. He argues that
rather than being merely “obsessional repetitive acts” ritual in pre-scribal cultures
embodies the presentation of complex enactments combining masks, body-paintings,
dance forms with complex grammars and vocabularies of bodily movements,
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gestures and various sensory codes which privilege theatricality in its widest sense
(106); a combination of the esoteric and the mundane at the same time.
Drewal, in her work on the interface of ritual, theatre and performance among
the Yoruba through a careful study of rites such as “isinku” (funeral), “ikose w’aye
and imori” (“Stepping into the World” and “Knowing the Head”) and the Agemo
masked performance, identifies how the people’s ritual performance and theatre
blend into a “stability and continuity [that are] acted out and re-enacted” (102). She
contends that, far from being “rigid, redundant and structurally static,” Yoruba ritual
in its theatrical and performative contexts, underscores motion and transformation; it
is a “repetition with critical variation,” but which cannot fully be understood and
appreciated if a Western frame of reference is applied to its analysis.
Balme has also shown how “the still-vibrant and intact mythical-ritual
tradition” demonstrates that theatre and ritual, rather than being mutually exclusive,
are located on the same “performative continuum” (67) that does not subscribe to
Western theatre dichotomizing theory. In his examination of some of Soyinka’s
works, Balme discovers that “many of the constitutive cultural texts of [Yoruba]
ritual…are integrated into a dramaturgical structure of meaning and action” (88-90),
through a strategy of blending ritual elements with theatrical form, that could be
misunderstood if approached with a different tool of analysis from the society in
which the works are produced.4
Jane McLuskie’s description of a performance of uMabatha that she saw at

the Sam Wanamaker’s Globe Theatre in 1997 provides the kind of challenge that one
could face if the Orisa-Shakespeare are approached with a theory that does not
recognize the Yoruba knowledge contained in the Orisa attributes and guiding
principles. McLuskie’s review of the show reveals her ignorance of the cultural
sensibility and the intimacy of the relationship between art, ritual, and the society
which has produced it. She describes the drumming and dancing in the production as
“somewhat repetitious in [their] rhythms,” and the music “deafeningly loud” (154). In
Yoruba ritual context however, repetition that McLuskie considers to be a boring and
4 In the introduction to their edited book, African Drama and Performance (2004), John Conteh-Morgan and
Tejumola Olaniyan also decry the tendency by Western scholarship to privilege literary drama (and its stage
realization) over its oral roots, arguing specifically that “it will be simply impossible to understand major traditions
of African drama and performance...without adequate attention to their...conditions of existence” (2-3).
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uninteresting performative device actually emphasizes the cyclical nature of existence

in terms of continuity and stability. According to Ali Mazrui, “There is something
profoundly [Yoruba] about certain forms of monotony.” In this case, “the drumbeat,
going on and on; the story with a persistent uniformity; the dance which culminates in
an ecstatic trance, are all familiar features of [Yoruba] cultural experience” (Mazrui,
278). The cultural/aesthetic reality that Mazrui describes is fully expressed in
uMabatha.The charged momentum of dancing, singing, and drumming are the
elements which form the mainstay of the bodies in motion while the performance
lasts. Needless to say, McLuskie’s assessment of the performance derives from the
application of a clearly different aesthetic parameter.
Analytical tools which draws from and are based on the Yoruba culture and its
aesthetics can effectively address misunderstandings as above. As Gary Taylor also
suggests, the value people accord Shakespeare and his works is entangled in the
values found in those works which necessarily involves looking at factors such as
politics, ideology, as well as the social and material cultures of the host reception (6).
This thesis will show that by exploring Shakespeare adaptation through Yoruba
worldview, the exercise is not going to be just the mapping of the Orisa, which
embody in themselves a rich “oral tradition, telling narratives and rich ethnographies”
(Falola and Genova 1). The thesis will prove that Orisa knowledge is useful to
understand what the adaptations mean in their cultural and political contexts, and can
serve as another significant way of “using Shakespeare to create something new” in
order to add to the existing scholarship on Shakespeare adaptation practice.
While some adaptations have emphasized the stories, others focused on the
characters; and some others engaged the thematic analogy of the Shakespeare texts to
their own realities. According to Walter Benjamin, adaptations have their own aura,
their own “presence in time, [their] unique existence at the place [they] happen to be”
(214); Julie Sanders avers that adaptation deals with the “reinterpretations of
established texts in new generic contexts or, the relocation of an ‘original’ or source-
text’s cultural and/or temporal setting, which may or may not involve a generic shift”
(19); Conteh-Morgan and Olaniyan see “inter-cultural negotiations” in adaptations
which implicate communication between two cultures and contexts (3); Linda
Hutcheon reads “re-contextualising” or “transculturation” in the adaptation that
makes an old text relevant in a contemporary or different cultural situation (146); and
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Gbemi Adeoti submits that adaptations of Shakespeare’s works are, in keeping with
the Renaissance spirit, the manifestation of the “looking back on the ancients”
dramaturgy which stresses continuity, alongside innovation of identified myths, folk
narratives, legends and history (8-11).These are useful terms that describe the
adaptations that this thesis studies.
Scholars also use the term “writing back” to describe Shakespeare adaptations.
Helen Tiffin argues that in their attempt to recover their humanity battered by colonial
experience, adaptations of this kind emphasize complete change in point of reference
and function as part of the mechanism that challenge the privileging of narration,
especially of the Western type, which Shakespeare represents. She emphasizes that
these adaptations demand for an entirely new or “wholly recovered ‘reality’ free of all
colonial taint” by challenging the nature of the coloniser and the colonised
relationship with “its pandemic brutalities and cultural denigration” (17-8). In order to
achieve their aim, the adapters often enter the narration from perspectives that are
different to Shakespeare’s, and channel its energy towards serving some other
purposes, part of which is to challenge Shakespeare’s canonical status. When these
types of adaptations are successful, they “put enormous cultural power of Shakespeare
to work in a way that undermines the way in which that power conventionally
operates” (Fischlin and Fortier 17), more so to answer questions of our time and
respond to the hue of our reality.
This thesis contributes to that dialogue but with the alternative intention of
showing how adaptations, and particularly Shakespeare adaptation, can serve the
specific need and reality of the adapters through a critique of their own society.
Elsewhere, Daniel Fischlin avers that Shakespeare adaptations constitute a body of
knowledge which shows the “Shakespeare of alternative strategies” that is more
concerned with the “here and now” of the adapters in terms of critiquing their own
societies (10). This thesis adds to that dialogue, by developing a Yoruba theory of
Shakespeare adaptation, using the same to explore the cultural and political contexts
of the adaptations, and developing a new adaptation of Julius Caesar which critiques
Nigeria’s present socio-political situation.
Western scholarship on adaptation has struggled with issues like fidelity and
originality. Scholars have not agreed on a particular name for the genre. Fischlin and
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Fortier rightly call this situation “the problem of naming” and submit that there is
actually no right name for adaptations, but “mere labels with more or less currency,
connection to history, and connotations both helpful and misleading” (2-3). For
example, while Ruby Cohn chooses “offshoots” from a catalogue of names used by
different scholars to describe the adaptations of Shakespeare (3), Naremore calls
adaptation “belated, middlebrow, or culturally inferior” (6), H. N Hudson describes
them as “execrable pieces of demendation” (qtd in Bradley 48). The epe Hudson hurls
at Tate and other adapters: “[w]ithered be the hand, palsied the arm, that ever dares to
touch one of Shakespeare’s plays again” (Massai 247), sums up the attitude and
position of “conservative Shakespeareans” towards adaptations.5 The following
paragraphs examine how some scholars have contributed to the dialogue on fidelity
and originality, and my own explanation of Yoruba attitude towards the same issue.
Linda Hutcheon, by contrast, argues that although adaptations may appear as

“extended re-visitations of prior works,” it will be totally out of place to regard them
as inferior by definition. She contends that in privileging fidelity, a crucial point is
overlooked, which is the motivation behind adaptation. She explains that it is
necessary to understand what informs the exercise in the first place; “adaptation
teaches that if we cannot talk about the creative process, we cannot fully understand
the urge to adapt and therefore perhaps the very process of adaptation. We need to
know ‘why’” (107). More so because the same word is used for both the product and
the process of adaptation, Hutcheon proposes a twofold definition of adaptation: as
product and process, which she believes could be useful to replace “fidelity criticism.”
Thus, her definition of “adaptation” involves two sub-categories: adaptation as “a
creative and an interpretive act” by the adapter, and “an extended intertextual
engagement” of the audience with the adapted work (8). She also suggests that
“perhaps one way to think about unsuccessful adaptation is not in terms of infidelity
to a prior text, but in terms of a lack of the creativity and skill to make the text one’s
own and thus autonomous” (20-1), in its own right..
Sanders also stresses the “need to know why.” She reiterates that the fixation
on fidelity reflects a static view of the world, a “linear epistemology.” According to
Sanders, such a rigid position tends to reduce the relationship of the source-text and
5 Yoruba word for “curse” usually hurled at someone and/or something that one finds really abhorring and
detestable in a fit of anger and related emotional outbursts.
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its adaptation to a path that is “linear and reductive [since the adaptation] is always in
the secondary, belated position, and the discussion will therefore always be, to a
certain extent, about difference, lack, or loss” (12). She argues that the fixation on
fidelity comes at the expense of two obvious realities that adaptation practice has
firmly established: 1) the fact that adaptation is a thriving and autonomous genre,
which stresses the ambivalence of Western culture towards Shakespeare at the
moment; and 2) the ever-changing and dynamic nature of adaptation practice, which,
unfortunately, is not always considered while applying theoretical models to discuss
the variety of works of this genre. She submits that a good way to overcome this
problem is to understand the “why” and “how” of recent adaptations.
Some recent adaptations of Shakespeare have however “claimed” to be more

“original” and “faithful” to their sources than Shakespeare’s, even as they put a
question mark on the Bard’s claim to authenticity. One good example is Michael
O’Brien’s Mad Boy Chronicle, a retelling of Hamlet, which sets its plot in Denmark,
circa 999 AD, recasts Shakespeare’s characters as grotesque Vikings, and substitutes
Shakespeare’s tragedy with parody and low comedy. In its approach, Mad Boy
Chronicle is able to escape Hudson’s “epe” and expose Shakespeare’s “infidelity” to
the original Hamlet story, by being more faithful to Shakespeare’s ultimate source—
an ancient Norse saga--- than Shakespeare. O’Brien’s divergences from Shakespeare’s
play arouse the audience’s curiosity. According to James McKinnon “the curious
relationship between Mad Boy Chronicle and its antecedent texts is announced by
numerous paratexts that the play uses to inform its audience that it is actually based
[not] only on the hypotext (Shakespeare) they recognize, but on a third, even more
antecedent original text” thereby calling to question, “the assumptions about
Shakespeare’s antecedence and originality” (182-5). The possibility of constant
revival and re-visioning of older texts which Mad Boy Chronicle demonstrates, also
underlines the argument that the act of constant revisions of texts precludes the
validity of any text’s claim to originality. This is because while Shakespeare’s Hamlet
may be an adaptation of Ur-Hamlet, the latter is itself a French novelization of a Latin
translation of an ancient Norse saga, whose author is unknown.
This last point applies to Yoruba stories in which the debate over faithful
rendition and/or originality is not at issue because the authors are unknown. Because
the materials are collectively owned by the society, their social significance is of more
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importance than the problem of nomenclature and fidelity to their sources. More so,
looking at Shakespeare adaptations from a Yoruba cultural perspective allows us to
sidestep the conversation about fidelity and originality. As Conteh-Morgan and
Olaniyan also argue of preliterate cultures including the Yoruba, adaptations and
cultural translations are as old as theatre itself; one necessarily needs to bear in mind
“the epistemological fact that every performance is a new translation, a new
recontextualization...in which dramatists borrow the theatrical idioms across traditions
in space and time to simultaneously read their historical present and critically reread
history” (3; emphasis in the original), in contexts that are not impeded by the concerns
with fidelity.
Yoruba literature is generally classified into poetry, narrative, and

performance, each identified with its specific features and mode of presentation. For
examples, iwi/esa, oriki, rara, ijala are verbal/performative genres, each identified by
its linguistic content/formulae and stylistic registers. These genres rely on the same
source notably Ifa, a body of knowledge about Yoruba epistemology and its aesthetic,
which also provides the most detailed and coherent information about the Orisa and
their relationship to the people. This information includes ways in which the
relationship is continually sustained and renewed through rituals and performance. As
such, the groupings often merge and overlap and are thereby completely
unencumbered by the debate over faithful rendition or originality.
Some Yoruba verbal arts do not easily yield to artistic manipulation because of
the limitations posed by their specific formulae and religious contents. This is also
because their value is located in the ritual/religious than the secular purposes they
serve the people. Whereas because of their flexibility and usage in everyday
conversations, other Yoruba verbal forms like owe (proverb), often yield to creative
manipulation. Yet, the process of their creative manipulation or dialogical imperative
does not account for any argument about “faithful” repetition or recitation, but the
social relevance of their usage at any given time and purpose.
The Yoruba apply the same cultural attitude to the creative/visual arts. Because
of the intimacy between art and spirituality, any serious creative/visual art is
considered a re-enactment of the divine archetypal act of creation over which there is
no problem of nomenclature or debate about fidelity. According to Babatunde Lawal,
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aworan is a generic term for any artistic representations in two or three dimensions. It
is mnemonic in nature, and identifies a work of art as a construct specifically crafted
to appeal to the eyes, relate a representation to its subject, and convey messages that
have aesthetic, social and/or spiritual significance in the society (Lawal 498-501).
Elsewhere, Lawal explains that the creative process includes imo (mastery of time-
honored conventions), to imoose (technical proficiency) and ojuimo (lit. “artistic
eye”), while ojuona (design consciousness) or visual cognition allows for selection
and processing of images/thought from daily experiences into schema or templates,
and as determined by Yoruba style of creativity although the impulse which drives art-
making among the Yoruba transcends the manipulation of tools in order to give
meaning to a new idea (Lawal 2005:161-74). The same cultural attitude governs
Yoruba literary/artistic and performative art.
Furthermore, the Yoruba attitude towards itan underscores the cultural

sensibility that governs the creative and performative arts among the people. These
stories are inherently adaptive creative endeavour, and are used as tools of
socialization due to their overtly productive style of didacticism and narrative pattern.
Yoruba concept of “itan siso” (storytelling/narrative), shows that the plenitude of their
storied universe is seeded from and nurtured by a creative recycling of a limited stock
of motifs. When these stories are adapted, they are utilised to address concerns which
underpin some of the underlying cultural and political engagements in the society
(Izevbaye x-xii). Hence, for the Yoruba, stories have the capacity to travel endlessly
across the frontiers of space and time and are constantly pillaged by writers who use
them as their own.
For the potentials of these stories which are derived from communally-shared
values and experience to be fully realized, they are constantly refined, appropriated
and retold. Through such retellings, and as determined by the artist’s level of
creativity and ingenuity, originality is conferred on the stories. Hence, what is often
called to question is the dexterity of the artist, in terms of her/his ability to twist
familiar contents in order to make them respond to specific social and often ethical
needs. The artist achieves this feat through inventiveness and skill, and the extent to
which her/his fertile imagination can stretch those of the audience, and how s/he can
effectively make use of the innate resources of body movement and gestures, voice
modulation, and non-verbal communication skill, in order to achieve her/his purpose
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(Sekoni 139; Akporobaro 3-6). Thus, what the Yoruba emphasize are the content,
context and cultural impact of the pre-existing stories in the way they cohere into
creativity and originality.
I believe that the Orisa-Shakespeare that I address in this thesis subscribe to

the Yoruba cultural attitude about stories as I have analysed above. In content, they
are influenced by Yoruba epistemology and shaped by its aesthetic principles.
Because their focus is the explication of the adapters’ experience rather than the need
to stay as close as possible to their sources, or even challenge the cultural capital that
the Shakespeare canon represents, they are unencumbered by the “fidelity criticism.”
Although the adapters appropriate aspects of imperial culture that Shakespeare
symbolizes, and use them to articulate their own socio-cultural perception and
political reality (Desmet and Sawyer 19), the texts also come across as examples of
the “Shakespeare of alternative strategies” that are useful to addressing the adapters’
socio-political concerns.
Research Questions
The thesis aims to understand the following: how do Yoruba epistemology and
aesthetic principles contribute to and/or influence the production and reception of
Shakespeare adaptations in Africa and the Yoruba global diaspora? What specific
Yoruba aesthetic resources are useful to this new approach? To what extent can
drawing from the knowledge of Yoruba aesthetic aid the process of
analyses/exploration of the cultural and political contexts of the texts? How can
synthesizing the knowledge derived from this exercise be useful to developing a new
play that draws inspiration from Julius Caesar? With these questions in mind while
engaging the texts, this thesis aims to draw from and extend current adaptation
research.
For ease of reference, I will classify the Orisa-Shakespeare into two groups:
the “Home” Orisa-Shakespeare which include Wesoo, Hamlet!, uMabatha and
Otaelo; and the “Diaspora” Orisa-Shakespeare which are A Tempest, Lear Ananci and
Harlem Duet respectively. I explain the methodology of conducting the research
below. But first let me mention that I will structure the thesis to reflect both the
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duality and tripartite structures of the Yoruba universe. As a duality, the thesis
contains two distinct parts: exegesis and creative component; as a tripartite however,
the thesis is broadly divided into three chapters: Chapter One; Chapter Two and
Chapter Three which contains the creative component respectively.
Outline of Research
As I mentioned previously, the thesis is divided into three parts/chapters. Chapter One
is entitled: “Orisa-Shakespeare: Towards a Theory of Shakespeare Adaptations.” I
devote this part to developing the theory of analyses which I use to examine the
Orisa-Shakespeare. Before embarking on this task however, I first of all use the sense
of itan as a narrative in order to provide a summary of the history of the Yoruba which
includes their myth, belief and religion as well as their connection to the Yoruba
diaspora. I also provide an overview of the origin and development of Yoruba Theatre
in Nigeria, especially the details that are relevant to my purpose in this thesis. I also
trace Shakespeare’s “journey” through Africa and Yoruba land and then conclude with
the discussion of A’are Akogun (Macbeth) and Itan Oginintin (The Winter’s Tale) to
illustrate how Yoruba literature and adaptation utilise Yoruba epistemology and
aesthetic principles in adapting Shakespeare.
Chapter Two is entitled: “Ogun vs Esu/Orunmila: The Quest for Alter/Native

Tradition.” I introduce this chapter with a discussion of the particular prominent orisa
whose attributes are clearly manifested by the central characters of the texts. I then
use the theory discussed in Chapter One to examine the Orisa-Shakespeare in this
chapter. I classified the texts into two groups--- “Home”: Wesoo, Hamlet!, Otaelo and
uMabatha; and “Diaspora”: ATempest, Lear Ananci and Harlem Duet respectively,
although I only fully engage Wesoo, Hamlet! and Otaelo in the former, and Lear
Ananci and Harlem Duet in the latter. I also draw a conclusion after the discussion of
each of the texts so that they represent different facets of the Orisa-Shakespeare.
Chapter Three (Apa Keta) contains the creative component which is my own
play that draws from Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar. Aside from my experience as a
playwright that I will bring to bear in this section, my choice of Julius Caesar is based
on the fact that Nigeria’s present situation shares serious resemblance with the
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Elizabethan society and the situation of the time Shakespeare wrote his play. More
so, as a playwright I find inspiration in Julius Caesar’s dramatization of the political
alliances of its central characters’, in relation to the struggle for political power and
ethnic/religious dimensions of the present situation of Nigeria.
Although I will use the data from published research on Yoruba history and
culture in the textual analyses and creative practice, the materials from the oral
interviews that I conducted will be given more priority. The Yoruba strongly believe
in the value of the oral art forms, most especially the verbal arts associated with the
Orisa. These oral texts are considered to be the most important aspects of their
literature, since the deities are themselves part of the regulatory process of existence
among the people. This knowledge of indigenous Yoruba culture is still being held by
practitioners and devotees of the Orisa tradition, whether in Yoruba land of Nigeria or
its diaspora. This means that to gain this knowledge, the practitioners must necessarily
be consulted.
One of the main characteristics of adaptation is the use to which canonical

texts, such as Shakespeare’s oeuvre, are put in a new dispensation and in response to a
new reality. The expected outcome of such adaptations, and my own adaptation in this
context, is to show innovation as well as its value to the new reception.
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CHAPTER ONE
Orisa-Shakespeare: Towards a Theory of Yoruba Shakespeare Adaptation
“Ko s’ohun ti o n’itan”
[Nothing is which lacks a story]
(Adeeko 82).
In this chapter, I develop a theory of Yoruba Shakespeare adaptation that I use to

examine the Orisa-Shakespeare and to develop a new adaptation of Julius Caesar
which critiques the present socio-political situation in Nigeria. The theory draws from
Yoruba knowledge and poetics, notably Ifa and itan, and then uses evidence from the
Orisa-Shakespeareto support it. As I mentioned previously, Orisa-Shakespeare is a
body of Shakespeare adaptations/appropriations that are written by people of Yoruba
origin in Nigeria and its diaspora as well as those plays which reflect or resonate with
Yoruba cultural and aesthetic principles, irrespective of the adapter’s nationality or
the distance in terms of space and time to the Yorubaland of Nigeria. However, for us
to understand how the theory is formed and the way it works, it is useful to have a
knowledge of the Yoruba belief system and culture as well as their aesthetic
conception. In the following sub-section, I will introduce the Yoruba then move on to
discuss the origin and development of their theatre, after which we will examine how
the theory is developed, introduce Shakespeare in Africa and Yoruba land, and then
use the theory to examine A’are Akogun and Itan Oginintin, the Yoruba adaptations of
Macbeth and The Winter’s Tale respectively, to illustrate Yoruba approach to
Shakespeare adaptations as examples of what I will be doing in my analyses of the
Orisa-Shakespeare in the next chapter.
The Yoruba world is multidimensional. It is not restrained to only the tangible

and physical plane of existence (Ibitokun 21). As Drewal, Perberton and Abiodun also
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write, the Yoruba world is conceived of as a duality: the inseparable realms of aye
(the visible and the tangible world of the living), often visited by other worldly forces,
which influence existence; and orun (the invisible realm of spiritual forces) peopled
by deities, ancestors, and spirits as well as Olodumare, the creator of all things and
Yoruba idea of God (Drewal et al 14). At the same time, as Soyinka argues, the
Yoruba world should be conceived in terms of a tripartite structure: the world of the
dead, the world of the living, and the world of the unborn (Soyinka 1976:144),
presided over by Olodumare, the Aseda ohun gbogbo (the Creator of all things),
whose own existence transcends any idea of time. It is in this sense that Olodumare is
regarded as the Supreme Deity, the giver and ultimate controller of Ase/Ashe, the
force and/or power by which things come into existence, and are taken charge of.
The Orisa are next in line to Olodumare in the hierarchy that is recognized in
the Yoruba cosmology. They are the “Select Heads/Deities” (Washington 17), that is,
both spirits of ancestors and those of deities, who interact with the people at different
times. The Yoruba term “Orisa” variously spelt as Orisha in the British-Caribbean,
Orixa in Brazil and Oricha in Cuba, is both the term for the body of pantheon and the
several traditions devoted exclusively for their worship (Cohen 17). Yoruba scholars
have classified the Orisa into different groups based on their function and supposed
position on the pantheon (Idowu 170; Awolalu 92; Oguntola-Laguda 47-56). As the
“eni ori sa da” (pre-eminent beings), the Orisa constitute a pantheon by which Yoruba
knowledge of the spiritual, and especially Olodumare, is revealed.
Yoruba belief is that the Orisa occupy the threshold point between aye and
orun, and between nature and humanity. They are also at the centre of the people’s
cosmology. They are tasked with overseeing life, the modulation of human existence
and destiny, as well as interceding with God on their (human beings) behalf (Aiyejina
and Gibbons 38-9). As part of their mundane manifestation and/or archetypal
signification, the Orisa symbolize opposing attributes/personality traits: the orisa
“funfun/tutu” and orisa “gbigbona” respectively. The “cool” orisa “tend to be gentle,
calm, and reflective” in nature, whereas the “hot” orisa “tend to be quick-tempered,
harsh, and demanding” (Thompson 3). Unlike the hot-headed orisa of the pantheon,
especially Ogun, Sango, Esu, Oya etc, who possess ferocious temperaments, Orunmila
(as well as Obatala, Osun, Oba etc) is instead an epitome of humility, gentleness and
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calmness.Yoruba believe is that human beings also exhibit such emotions: the “hot”
and “cool” temperaments.
The Yoruba Ifa provides the most detailed and coherent information about the
Orisa and their relationship to the people including ways in which the relationship is
continually sustained and renewed through devotion in the form of festivals and ritual
observances. As a body of knowledge, Ifa could be said to have two distinguishable
elements: the visual art aspect and the liturgy. While the former is represented in part
by the Opon Ifa (divination tray) and its accessory the Iroke (divination tapper) both
of which contain images with their own narratives about the Orisa including their
metaphors for human relationship; the latter is a combination of iyere (songs) and
odu/ese (verses) that make up Ifa’s oral literature about the Orisa and every aspects of
Yoruba life. Essentially, Ifa also serves as the source of Yoruba aesthetics as I will
show later on.
The Yoruba employ myth to make sense of this complex world as outlined
above. Although there are many definitions of myth, I use Philip Wheelwright’s
definition in this thesis because of how it clearly articulates the way Yoruba perceive
and use myth. According to Wheelwright, myth refers to “our tribal habits of
conceptualisation” which include a worldview that embraces taboo, totem, legend,
initiation ceremonies, death chants, worship of gods and goddesses, all of which are
used in literature as “expressive symbol” (59). The “expressive symbol” captures the
essence of myth for the Yoruba, who use myth as a system of knowing and formation
of belief in order to gain knowledge about the Orisa, and to confront their changing
social reality. The Yoruba delve into myth in order “to provide answers to the
question of their existence and for the socio-political organization of their society”
(Ray 31); hence, the knowledge is not merely metaphysical but also existential, in so
far as it helps the people to confront everyday situations and realities.
The Yoruba also align myth with historical reality because myth often “blends
into history as cosmic and archetypal events bear upon local situations, and history
blends into myth as local and human events become ritualized and infused with
cosmic and archetypal meanings” (24).Yoruba fusion of myth with history helps them
to address daily occurrences and provide practical answers to pressing questions that
affect the society. By factoring into their myths very crucial and salient ingredients of
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their history, including their norms and tradition, the Yoruba are able to utilize both
myth and history to reflect on, and come to terms with, the ever-changing situation in
their society including aspects which might otherwise have remained
impenetrable.This is why they often say, “Bi won se nse l’aye, ni won n se l’orun”
that is, earthly conducts reflect heavenly reality.
Yoruba myth is intimately subsumed in ritual. While there have also been
several definitions and explanation of the relationship between myth and ritual,
Wheelwright’s conceptualization is also useful to my purpose here. According
Wheelwright,while “ritual connotes a way of doing, and myth a way of envisaging,
the doing and the envisaging are of a special, not of an everyday sort, and imply in
their turn a belief in a penumbral reality, something extending beyond yet
interpenetrating with the affairs of mortal men” (60). In other words, while myth
accommodates belief, ritual deals with the expression of such belief in concrete and
practical terms, although both are intimately connected so much that one cannot be
separated from the other. As I mentioned earlier, while the Yoruba use myth to
express a sense of community that is hinged on the interactive relationship between
humans and the Orisa, the myth also feeds directly into the ritual of the people.
Although some of these rites enact political and civic themes that are not as important
as the worship of the Orisa and may not necessarily form part of the framework of the
ritual aspects of Orisa worship and ceremonial observances, they should not be
overlooked. This is because the core of such rites and their value are located in the
intimate relationship between the Orisa and their devotees.
The origin and development of Yoruba theatre show how Yoruba myth and
ritual are bound up with Yoruba political and social history, and serve as the basis for
dramatic concepts. Thus, Yoruba theatre comes across as a specific example of rites
which enact political and civic themes outside of Orisa worship, but nonetheless
attached to it; a similar situation occurs in the Yoruba global diaspora.
In the diaspora, the Yoruba are known and called by the names of some of
their orisa or by their spoken language. In Brazil and Haiti, they are called Nago or
Jeje; Sango/Shango in Trinidad and Tobago, while in Cuba and in some other New
World nations, they are called “Lucumi” from “Olukumi,” or “My friend” (Mason 2).
Before the trans-Atlantic Slave Trade, the Yoruba practiced a very well-developed
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cultural and occupational practice in which they had the orisa related to their
professions as patron-gods. The ritual/occupational system ensured the evolvement of
a thriving and sustained tradition, with elaborate ceremonies at home in Yoruba land.
These devotees and guilds of trade unions were specialists in their own right, and
were among those brought as prisoners to the New World (Aiyejina & Gibbons 35-6).
This established system of god--human relationship through occupation, assured the
perpetuity of Yoruba culture and tradition in the New World in spite of the horrors of
the slave trade and the harrowing experience of the Middle Passage.
Diasporic Yoruba adapters of Shakespeare, like their counterparts in

Yorubaland of Nigeria, often demonstrate the perpetuity of Yoruba culture and
tradition by introducing the orisa as characters in their works. Césaire introduces two
principal orisa from the Yoruba pantheon into A Tempest: Shango, and especially
Eshu, who aid Caliban to dislodge Prospero. Césaire draws from both home and
diaspora Yoruba mythology about Sango in this play. At home, Sango is regarded as
the orisa who enforces social justice, and as a warrior who derives his power from
Nature (ile/earth), where he aligns favourably with Esu, the controller of the orita-
meta (crossroads). In the diaspora, especially in Santeria, Vodou and Candomble, the
rites devoted to Sango are observed in order to draw power and self-control. Caliban
also taps from this particular spiritual energy of Sango. Due to his own non-
conformist nature however, Esu is recognized on the Yoruba pantheon as the orisa
closest to Atunda in character. Césaire’s Caliban is able to triumph over Prospero, by
aligning his own energy with that of Shango and Eshu, the mirror-image of Atunda,
the primordial freedom fighter.6 As Césaire demonstrates in the play, diasporic
Yoruba adapters utilize the Yoruba sense of the god-human relationship to address
problems shaped by time and events, which are not only “cross-cultural,” but also
“cross-temporal” (Wetmore Jr. 3), especially through adapting old texts to engage
contemporary social and political conditions in entirely different times, environments
and cultures.
The Yoruba asserted their influence on both religious and secular practices
that they met on their arrival in the New World. In order to hold onto their roots,
6Ihave retained the way Cesaire writes both Shango and Eshu in his text, but among the Yoruba at home, it is
Sango and Esu as I have written them. In my analysis, I will retain the spelling of any of the orisa’s name as it
appears in a quote while using the Yoruba form of writing in other cases.
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Yoruba rituals were merged with Christian and other faiths. This syncretism resulted
in the emergence new religious practices. For instance, Santeria emerged from the
“dressing of the Orisa in Christian garb in order to circumvent the prohibition of their
worship under Catholic strictures in place since colonial times” (Lima 34). Santeria
(Regla de Ocha or La Regla de Lucumi), was developed by the Yoruba in the
Caribbean areas of the Spanish Empire; Candomble (Dance in honour of the gods)
was developed in Brazil and other Portuguese areas; Orixa/Orisha and Patakin were
developed in Cuba as were many others like the Umbanda and Obeah. The traces of
Yoruba ritual are also noticeable in neo-African and creolized cult practices such as
Rastafarianism, Shango worship, vodoun, and the African-centred Baptist church’s
liturgy. The value of these rites continue in their dual roles of forging a sense of
community, identity and togetherness of a shared history (Savory 244), and to express
the cultural continuity and linkage between home (Yorubaland) and its diaspora.
Theatre and performance in the diaspora also relied heavily on Yoruba rituals
and cultural practices. Some of the aesthetic forms or devices include storytelling,
masking, possession, music and/or dance, which are drawn from the enactment of
rituals that often occur within the context of religious observances, such as in Sango
worship. In storytelling for example, the dramatists fall back on the oral and
performative tradition, specifically Yoruba orature, which they blend with their own
kind of theatre in the diaspora. This theatrical device serves as an avenue for both the
performers and audience to reconnect to their past even as it is also used to politically
engage the present. Possession, as a performative device, is derived from the rites of
Sango called “gun” that is, to mount, in which the deity “enters” into the devotee in a
charged and climactic moment of union between spirit and mortal that is achieved
through music, chant, and invocation. The use of possession as a performative device
suggests a complex relationship of the individual at home in Yorubaland of Nigeria,
and of the Yoruba in the diaspora, to communally-understood symbols, similar to the
way Wheelwright explains the relationship between myth and ritual. It also shows
how the Yoruba can conveniently connect with spiritual powers represented by the
Orisa. The mask suggests a sense of fluid identity and reunion of the people with their
ancestors whether it is propelled by possession or not. It also helps the people to
achieve multiple identity that is connected to a certain cycle of change from the
physical to the metaphysical and back; music such as Calypso developed on the
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plantations as songs of protest and resistance by African/Yoruba slaves, but their

origin is also located in Yoruba orature, which includes all the known genres that I
identify below.
These Yoruba forms are used as performative tropes in the diaspora, in order
to strengthen community identity, protest against colonial intrusion and to reconnect
with the ancestral from which they were broken by slave trade (Savory 245-9).
Needless to say that all of these forms are syncretized with the already existing
performance aesthetics in the diaspora, they also form part of what Balme describes as
aesthetic materials useful to “unlocking the racial memory of a cultural group” (102),
which is, in this specific instance, explicitly of the Yoruba provenance.
Origin and Development of Yoruba Drama/Theatre
As we shall see below, although the influence of Western theatre and literary
conventions on contemporary Yoruba theatre/literature is clear, it has both an ancient
and modern tradition: one rooted in prehistoric oral culture, and another post-colonial
tradition, while the Orisa-Shakespeare reflect this dual heritage.
The origin and development of Yoruba drama/theatre is connected to rituals

and poetics including iwi/esa (Egungun songs); ayajo/ofo/ogede (invocation),
ijala/iremoje (hunters’ chant), efe/apidan/Gelede, rara (various forms of chants); owe
(proverb); alo (riddle), ekun iyawo (bridal chant) to mention a few. In his research
into the origins of Yoruba theatre, Joel Adedeji contends that Yoruba theatre belongs
to the genre of the “masque” or “mask” which originated as an entertainment form,
from the religious rites of the Egungun or maskers known as “ghost-mummers” or
more popularly referred to variously aseegun apidan (players of spectacle), eegun
alare (masque players) and the alarinjo (travelling dance troupe). These names
suggest that the development of Yoruba theatre can effectively be traced through three
stages: ritual, festival and theatre (Adedeji 254-5). As disussed further below,
Osofisan’s Wesoo, Hamlet! uses several of the aesthetic elements that Adedeji
identifies as aspect of the Yoruba performance. The play is presented in the form ofa
Mask ritual/festival---the masks are summoned from bara (royal mausoleum) with
music, chant and ritual invocation. The play exemplifythe interface of traditional and
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contemporary forms of Yoruba drama/theatre from which its literary theatre derives
inspiration.
In contrast to Adedeji, Soyinka contends that the Atunda/Orisa Nla episode

which I discussed in the introduction, best explains the origin of Yoruba theatre. He
explains that after Atunda’s splinter of OrisaNla, the original Whole, into different bits
and pieces, a void was created in the wholeness of existence, which threw the Yoruba
universe into complete chaos. However, in order to bridge the gulf, Ogun stepped
forward as that lone figure, and first tragic hero of Yoruba drama because his
redemptive act became the dramatization of the primordial conflict that constituted the
very origin of Yoruba theatre (Soyinka 1976:130-60).While Adedeji and Soyinka
emphasize mythological origin of Yoruba theatre, Biodun Jeyifo focuses on historical
events and uses documented materials to trace the origin and the development of
Yoruba theatre. He concentrates on the Alarinjo, the precursor of the Yoruba
professional travelling theatre, because the record of their activities constitute the only
surviving evidence of traditional theatre in Yoruba land even though the people still
observe the egungun rite. According to Jeyifo, in the Alarinjo performances, “the
performers are [usually] masked and their theatrical fare combines dramatized satirical
sketches drawn from a corpus of stock character types, instrumental and vocal music,
mimetic dancing, acrobatic and visual spectacle” (34), which made their art to be more
popular and widely accepted by the people. Evidently, Yoruba theatre developed by
drawing extensively from myth and ritual as well as historical sources, as an interface
of tradition and modernity that is also evident in the Orisa-Shakespeare.
Literary tradition into which the Orisa-Shakespeare can be classified came at

the heels of the introduction of Western form of literacy and writing into Yorubaland,
which led to the replacement of Yoruba orature with writing and the conversion of
Yoruba oral literature into book forms, the earliest record of which was a collection of
poetic utterances and songs published in 1886 (Olatunji 23-6). In the area of theatre
and literature, the period also witnessed the emergence of educated dramatists
(including Soyinka who returned to the country in 1960 after his study in the UK and
brief work at the Royal Court Theatre, London) who wrote scripts for performances.
These plays were modelled after European texts. One popular example is
Ogali.O.Ogali’s Veronica, My Daughter, which was modelled on classic literature,
the Bible and Shakespeare.Although modern Yoruba plays are longer and have more
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complicated plots compared to the travelling theatre performances discussed above,

they maintain a strong link with ritual drama through use of songs, drumming and
other related performative tropes which show the intersection of history, myth and
ritual that are derived from Yoruba cosmology.
Yoruba adaptations of Shakespeare reflect Yoruba aesthetic and creative

traditions that existed long before Shakespeare was introduced to Yorubaland. In
order to understand how and why contemporary Yoruba playwrights cite Shakespeare
in their own works, and to illustrate what is specifically “Yoruba” about what I refer
to as “Orisa-Shakespeare,” we need to understand Yoruba aesthetic ideals and the
social/cultural/religious constructs from which the Orisa-Shakespeare has emerged
(and which it speaks back to). In the following paragraphs, then, I develop a
framework for analysing such adaptations by describing art and creativity from a
Yoruba point of view, focusing first on Ifa and the concept of itan. As it must have
become clear by now, Yoruba poetic aesthetics and the social/cultural/religious
constructs are intimately interwoven: one feeds into the other, and Ifa is at the centre
of both constructs--- to understand the relationship shared by these constructs and
how they cohere into Yoruba aesthetics, one needs the knowledge of Ifa.
Rather than develop the framework of analysis by discussing Ifa and its
relationship to itan separately before moving on to apply it to the Orisa-Shakespeare
however, I will simply show how both serve the Orisa-Shakespeare by drawing
examples from the texts to support the argument. In the process, I will cover the
following cultural and aesthetic tools such as (1) the representation of time, (2) oriki
(panegyric) (3)iran (spectacle),(4) iwa/omoluabi, (5) language, (6) symbolism, and
(7) archetypal characterization respectively.While these identified cultural and
aesthetic constructs are intimately connected as I have mentioned, I have outlined
them here for ease of reference.
Ifa occupies a central place in Yoruba epistemology and its aesthetic

principles.It is the body of knowledge about the Yoruba universe. Although Ifa is
similar to the Hebrew Kabbalah within the realm of religion through the peculiar way
both seek to define the notion of the relationship between the divine and mortals, and
to answer ontological questions about human existence, it also differs on the account
of its aesthetic significance. Although its liturgy contains information about the Orisa,
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Ifa also provides the ingredient for other secular aspects and the essential details of
Yoruba life in general.
We always encounter two distinct, yet related, worlds in Ifa liturgy which are
also often realized or presented in Yoruba literature and performance. These are the
world of reality that is recognizable to our own experience as conceived through the
fictional characters whose thoughts and actions may be aligned with recognizable
historical figures; and a surreal or metaphysical world which is inhabited by
characters that are shaped in the mould of the Orisa. The two worlds often interact
fluidly in the performative space as they do in the world of the Ifa liturgy. Soyinka
maintains that the “drama of the gods [is] a medium of communal recollection and
cohesion” which functions as a “medium in the cosmic extension of [hu]man’s
physical existence” (13), even beyond their religious functions in human society.
In the Ifa liturgy (often times referred to as corpus), there are 16 principal odu
(verses/chapters) of varying lengths, out of which another 240 secondary odu are
derived, which bring the total to 256 verses/chapters that address diverse subjects and
cover every aspects of Yoruba life.7Each of the odu represents the epicentre of
Yoruba proverbial wisdom and religiosity, contains an enormous amount of minor
verses (ese), and moral teachings (kiki) expressed through mythological, historical,
and social development as seen through religious eyes (Ifa Karade 11). The odu are
rendered by the Babalawo (diviner) during divination, as poetry that is laced with
intermittent prose, which uses proverbs, metaphors, aphorism and several other
stylistic features in order to address myriad of subjects.
The aesthetic significance of the odu is contained in their textual and

performative characteristics: textual because the odu are “established” narratives
which are “opened” and “read” by the Babalawo (diviner) based on some “esoteric”
graphic marks that he inscribes on the Opon Ifa (Divination tray), during the process
of divination; and performative because the Babalawo assumes both the role of
“Opitan” (storyteller/”narrative-hatcher”) and the “Olutumo” (“unraveler” of plots)
who deciphers and disseminates the significance of the “divine” lyric (odu/verse)
through a comparison of the patterns or images that he has created on the Opon Ifa
7A particular odu/verse can be as short as three or four lines (a tercet/quatrain to use Western way of description)
in length, fifteen to thirty or more lines depending on the subject matter.
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(Adeeko 49). The Babalawo’s rendition often comes in the form of dialogue or
discursive prose through which he offers analysis, explanation, and justification of
what can be considered to be the thesis offered in the poetic chants (Oluwole 3). At
the heart of the odu are several fundamental concepts that are distinctive to the
Yoruba worldview, even as they also provide a solid foundation for comprehending
the dynamics of Yoruba orature through time and space (Drewal et al 14), as are the
secular narrative forms, such as the Orisa-Shakespeare, that they inspire.
Ifa de-emphasizes temporal specificity of its narrative and stresses the

thematic and social relevance. In this case, the essential characteristic and aesthetic
value of the liturgy is contained in the way the audience is led outside of time
referent because time, rather than being linear, operates on a cyclical frame. As I will
show below, this approach to narrative is central to itan. Soyinka also contends that
life (whether real or creatively imagined) contains “within it the manifestations of the
ancestral, the living and the unborn [which represent past, present and future] and all
are vitally within the intimation and affectiveness of life” (144), beyond mere
abstract conceptualisation.
Orisa-Shakespeare reflects the primacy of Ifa in Yoruba creative practice in

this particular regard by utilizing the same approach of de-emphasizing temporal
specificity in the adaptation. Liz Gunner finds similar temporal fluidity in uMabatha
which uses “cyclical rather than calendrical time” through deep cultural forms that
rely on dance and song (Gunner 260). She argues that in “making and shifting the
chains of its social and historical meanings” through the none specificity of time,
uMabatha, written in 1970, imagines the memory of the Anglo-Zulu War of 1879,
even as its transnational and transcultural relevance is also underlined by the way it
dramatizes military incursion into civilian politics on the African continent, including
its attendant violence and brutality.
In Harlem Duet we are provided another example of a narrative that de-

emphasizes temporal specificity. In a scene set in 1860 on a plantation, two
characters are seen making plans to escape to Canada through the Underground
Railroad. They discuss the Black slave, Cleotis and Saartjie Baartman, also known as
Hottentot Venus, who was “paraded naked on a pay-per-view basis” while alive, and
subjected to a more distasteful treatment after her death. Given that the story of
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Baartman (1789-1816) being told in 1860 represents the past at that moment in the
play (1860) and also represents the two characters’ present, the introduction of the
story of Emmett Till, the fourteen-year-old black boy lynched for flirting with a
white lady in 1955, represents the future in that context. Baartman’s remains were
buried in 1994 by the South African government under Nelson Mandela. As it were,
in the same way that Emmet Till’s story of 1955 serves as the future to 1860 Harlem
(whose past is 1789-1816) in that context, so could 1994 serve as the future of 1955.
Place is also de-emphasized in Harlem Duet: there were no slaves in New York in
1860 as depicted (33-4). This scene illustrates the fact that, just as Ifa de-emphasizes
spatial and temporal location in its liturgy but stresses thematic relevance, in Orisa-
Shakespeare, socio-cultural and political relevance is much more significant than the
temporal dimensions of the adaptation.
Although the experience of divination in the Yoruba context is an experience

of the core essence of Yoruba philosophy and worship (Ifa Karade 13), when a
Babalawo engages in divination wherein he recites an odu from Ifa, he is said to “ki
Ifa” (praising Ifa), which stresses the importance of approaching Yoruba orature,
artwork and literature as oriki because of its representation of the textual aspect of
Yoruba literature (Yai 30). Oriki, which literally implies “head praising,” is a
significant aspect/form of Yoruba oral literature which retains and expresses both the
mythical, historical and political essence of Yoruba thought. Oriki is characterised by
extolling the attributes of valour, strength, victory, wisdom and other characteristics
of an individual, clan or town; and its epistemological underpinning is from the fact
that “all entities, whether human, spiritual, animate and inanimate, have oriki”
(Barber 2004:733), whether rendered as short (personal) or extended (lineage) forms.
Ifa is also central to the Orisa-Shakespeare on this specific account of the use
of oriki as both dialogue and narrative resource. In Osofisan’s Wesoo Hamlet!, when
the protagonist, Leto returns to his village, he is greeted with both his personal and
lineage oriki in order to praise him and celebrate his return, “Leto, omo baba, Akanni
ogo” (Leto, son of our father, precious Akanni). Another character, Asipa goes into an
extensive rendition of Leto’s lineage oriki accompanied by the (gangan) talking
drum:
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Omo alaso etu—se iwo ni? Son of the owners of etu cloth—is it
you?
Omo A-ji-faso aran bora! Son of those who wake to be

draped in velvet!
A-sun-fi sanyan boju! Son of those who sleep covered in silk!
Onile opo-wo ‘leke, wo- aso-nla! Whose house posts are draped
in beads and rich cloth! (9)
Elsewhere, his mother, Olori chants another version of his lineage’s panegyric when
he arrives at the palace later that day:
Aremo Orimadega First son and heir of King Orimadegun,
Ariowosaye Who has enough money for merriment
A figba won ‘wo Whose wealth is carried in calabashes,
Omo eyi o jo teekan Son of “This is unlike the previous one.”
Teekan o jo teyi “The previous one is unlike this one!”

(16)
Later on in the play when Olori realizes her folly and learns the truth of how Ayibi
poisoned her husband, Oba Sayedero and married her to keep the loyalty of the
people, she goes to the bara (royal mausoleum) to summon the ghost/Mask of
Sayedero with his personal oriki in order to beg for his forgiveness:
Oba Sayedero My husband like a god
Oko-o mi orisa
Ololo He who stammers
A ba-ni-soro-ma tan ni je! But whose counsel is never false
Rogun ma te… Who is never disgraced in war… (79, 89)
Oriki also falls within the purview of izithakazelo (clan praise names), which are
closely linked to Zulu izibongo, and used extensively in uMabatha. Dangane is first
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introduced to the audience by Inbongi who uses such forms of verbal material to
praise the monarch:
Oh, Mighty Mdangazeli Noqongo
You who tread upon the highest and smallest clouds
You who have conquered the highest and smallest clouds
And made the whole sky dark
Oh Mighty king
Grow to be even mightier than you are
Grow to be mightier than the old horn snake
Which lies with its head always erect
And strikes wherever it pleases. (168-9)
When Makhiwane is crowned king of Zululand at the end of the play, people also use
related praise chants to acknowledge him:
Mntwana!
Makhiwane, son of Ndanganzeli! (187)
Just as the oriki used in Wesoo,Hamlet! draws from the flora and fauna of the society,
so are those used in uMabata. And, as the examples from both plays show, whether
rendered as a short or extended prose/narrative detailing specific incidents at some
point in the past, or the mythological and /or the historical contents of an individual’s
personal or lineage’s line of descent, oriki is a unique form of language and verbal
aesthetic that also relies on itan. The itan at the heart of oriki usually draws a link to
the physical, temperamental, occupational and other aspect of life, and/or qualities
related to the individual or lineage being addressed. The semantic component of the
various names, as well as the incidents alluded to in oriki, arouses this emotional
response (Barber 734), and its uniqueness is stressed by the anthropomorphic nature
of Yoruba belief.
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According to Barber, a complex relationship exists among Ifa, oriki and itan,
“itan are told to explain obscure lines of [Ifa and] oriki, while oriki [and Ifa] in turn
provide the mnemonic pegs onto which extended narratives [itan] are hung” (Barber
2004:361). As the specific examples from Wesoo, Hamlet! also show, the itan of a
particular lineage is entrenched in, and espoused through, the oriki of the individual.
At the same time, oriki are utilized in itan as resources of language and vehicle of
narration to advance the plot of a dramatic piece.
Itan is thus at the heart of Yoruba creative practice. Itan is coined from “tan”,
that is, “to spread”; “to open”; “to illuminate”; and “to shine” which are phrases
detailing its reach, scope and dialectical imperatives beyond the Yoruba specific
frontiers. Both the cultural/creative and dialectical significances of itan derives from
its polysemic nature, which integrates three fundamental dimensions, namely: its
chronological aspect that deals with people and places; its territorial/geographical
dimensions emphasizing links between people across and beyond their cradles; and
its discursive and/or reflexive dimensions that underlines its intellectual import (Yai
30-1), even as we focus on its specifically Yoruba dimension. The saying, “Gbogbo
ohun ti a ba se loni, itan ni lola” (All that we do today is history/narrative
tomorrow), is an expression of the fact that itan makes the understanding of events
possible because stories are the most enduring survivors of events, and that
“tomorrow” in that context, is a time frame that exceeds the boundaries of thought in
regard to future possibilities.
Orisa-Shakespeare also reflects the primacy of Ifa and itan in Yoruba

adaptation. In the “Note to the Director” which accompanies Wesoo, Hamlet!,
Osofisan mentions that his adaptation “takes place in Yorubaland, Nigeria, in a
period deliberately set in a non-specific year within the last half of the 20th century
[and] some of the references will recall the early 50s, and some the later part of the
century” (vi). Osofisan shows how itan mediates the distance between the occurrence
of events and their narration.We have another example from Harlem Duet in the
scene set in present-day Harlem,8between Billie and her father, Canada who tells the
itan below:
8
This scene is also an example of the non-specificity of time referent in Yoruba narrative that I mentioned earlier:
“present-day Harlem” could mean many things---1997 when Harlem Duet was written, or two years earlier since
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You know, an old African once told me the story of a man who
was struck by an arrow. His attacker was unknown. Instead of
tending to his wound, he refused to remove the arrow until the
archer was found and punished. In the meantime, the wound
festered, until finally the poison infected his entire body,
eventually killing him…Now, who is responsible for this man’s
death, the archer for letting go the arrow, or the man for his
foolish holding on? (83)
In the first instance, that Canada is the one telling the itan is compatible with Yoruba
cultural understanding about elderly people being the custodians of wisdom (as
ancient storytellers and griots are known). The value of the itan is also strengthened
by another short statement that he adds that, “A drunken man can get sober but a
damn fool can’t ever get wise” (83), an example of what Barber describes as “owe-
onitan” that is, proverbial itan/narrative, which contains the same sense, the value of
learning from other people’s experience, as the longer/extended one. Although the
itan is told in Yorubaland and serves as an example of “the means by which the past
is reactivated in the present” (Barber 364), its’ recollection in the Yoruba diaspora
also stresses itan’s “territorial/geographical dimensions emphasizing links between
people across and beyond their cradles” as we have in Harlem Duet.
Secondly, Canada’s itan shows that the moments of a particular action cannot
coincide with that of its record. What this means is that time and the demand of genre
(itan/narrative) cannot but come between the occurrence of an event and its
recollection (and preservation) in stories. As Adeeko observes, itan shows the
relationship between time and narrative, the displacement of “literal” events into
narratives, the difference between events and history, and the disjuncture between
historical actions and their narrative records (108-9). In the two particular cases cited
above, the potential of itan and Yoruba adaptation to speak to the past, present and
future at one and the same time is highlighted.
Itan stresses the imperative of community in Yoruba creative practice. This is

essentially a major connection that itan shares with Ifa, whose liturgy embodies a
the stage direction mentions the music of Aretha Franklin being played in the background to Michael Jackson and
Lisa Maris Presley’s interview on ABC’s “Dateline” conducted in 1995; the time frame could even be now.
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wide range of odu (verses) that emphasize communal existence as opposed to

individuality. Yoruba approach to narratives and adaptation in general is informed by
the awareness of the relationship between the individual, the social and the spiritual
world--- and awareness that it is “a social contract that does not produce a literature
that is preoccupied with the individual as the primary source of reference (Abraham,
qtd in Harrison xliii). Societies, as Ben-Amos and Goldstein (1975) also argue, are
characterized by patterns of expression in the form of codes, symbols, metaphors and
other performative structures that make up their worldview. Itan’s emphasis on the
communal nature of narratives draws attention to such orthodoxies as “communal
creativity” as opposed to “creative individualism” (Olaniyan 45); that is, the essence
of itan is located in the operative of a society’s worldview, and not necessarily as the
material creation of any single individual.
Orisa-Shakespeare reflect the influence of itan in this regard by using

Shakespeare’s story but not necessarily his plot. The adapters approach
Shakespeare’s texts with a sense of itan that claims autonomy from the
Shakespearean source and is specifically addressed tothe adapter’s socio-political
concerns. More so, what the Orisa-Shakespeare emphasize is the story or its
representation of actual events rather than emphasis on the source/Shakespeare in
this particular sense, thereby making it impossible to be bothered about fidelity to
that supposed source. Césaire mentions that while writing A Tempest, he “continually
broke away from the original [and] was trying to ‘de- mythify’ [Shakespeare’s] tale”
(qtd in Belhassen 176), and “When the work was done, I realised there was not much
Shakespeare left” (Cesaire, “Un poete politique” 3).Thomas also emphasizes that
rather than staying true to its source Lear Ananci, the adaptation of King Lear, “is a
powerful, poetic and poignant interpretation of Shakespeare’s play that takes a deep
metaphorical journey into Caribbean politics…in the twin island state of Trinidad &
Tobago.” Sears also makes it known that in writing Harlem Duet, “Shakespeare was
a jumping off point [and] an opportunity to look at things from another
perspective…the central question was how to look at Othello from my own
perspective” (qtd in Buntin). The adapters thus worked to tell a story in order to
reflect the materiality of their society rather than being encumbered by fidelity to its
source.
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At the heart of itan is iran, a term which is synonymous to “spectacle” and/or

“performance” at its simplest. According to Margaret Drewal, the essence of iran
which derives from its root “itan” (the performative aspect of the oral narrative that I
mentioned earlier) incorporates tropes such as, ritual, song (music) and dance, all of
which are tied up to life itself. She contends that the “Yoruba often use ritual,
festival, spectacle, and play interchangeably […] so that any generic distinctions
have to acknowledge that, as categories of performance, they are open and inclusive
rather than close and exclusive” (12), in their realization.
Because Ifa liturgy and itan are used by the Yoruba to give tangible meaning
to both the visible and spiritual presences which provide context to their daily lives
and thoughts (Yai 30-4), what is often emphasized is the individual’s behaviour in
relation to the taboos and norms guiding existence in the society. In this case, itan are
told with the aim to stress socially-acceptable conducts which are subsumed under the
notion of omoluabi and iwa.When people behave well in the society or demonstrate
any form of socially-desirable demeanour, they are regarded as “omoluabi” which
describes both the individual and the behaviour of such an individual. This means that
omoluabi denotes the importance of “good behaviour as a sine qua non to harmony
and peaceful co-existence in the society” (Dasylva 80-1). At the heart of omoluabi is
iwa, which simply means behaviour. The saying “Iwa l’ewa” (Character is beauty)
underscores the iwulo, or what I call the “phenomenal functionality” of iwa, as a
requisite to qualify as eniyan (person), but whether one is eniyan rere/daadaa (good
person) or eniyan buruku (bad/haughty person) depends on people’s assessment---an
assessment that is also dependent on whether that individual has attained the state of
omoluabi. According to Fayemi, the Yoruba often consider six qualities before
concluding that an individual is an omoluabi, namely: iwa: 1) oro siso (spoken word),
2) iteriba (respect), 3) otito (truth), 4) iwa (character)9, 5) akikanju (bravery), and (6)
opolo pipe (intelligence) respectively (Fayemi 169), although they are also aware that
it is not possible for an individual to possess all of these qualities.
Because of the recognition of human frailties, Ifa and itan stress the need for
people to be mindful of “Pele” in their relationships, either among themselves or with
the environment. According to Dasylva, although “Pele” is both a form of greeting
9Note the difference in the translation of iwa here compared to the previous: Yoruba cultural constructs are often
difficult to give a specific definition because of the fluidity in their usage.
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and of warning, at another level of its socio-cultural value, it is the mechanism for
checking people’s excesses and ensuring society’s continued peaceful and harmonious
existence. He explains “Pele” from three related perspectives:
[Iwa] Pele ko ma baa ku—be careful or be of good conduct, so

that you do not die suddenly or get hurt or harmed; that is,
beware of harm due to negligence or carelessness; [Iwa] Pele ko
ma baa koba awon ara’yooku—be careful that you may not
cause problems for others; eschew acts that indicate that one
does not have consideration for others; [Iwa] Pele ko ma baa
para re, or (para re lara)—be carefulthat you do not kill
yourself or bring harm upon yourself. (84-6)
Dasylva’s analysis above draws on the notion of community rather than individuality
which is an essential aspect of Yoruba life. While this may not be unique to the
Yoruba, the fact is that the Yoruba use taboos and conventions to foreground its
relevance in their society. As Heschel observes, such an ontological imperative is
“occasioned by [the people’s] coming upon a conflict or contradiction between
existence and expectation, between what [the people are] and what is expected [of
them]” (Heschel 3). As Eliade also explains, people have an implicit belief in the fact
that “life is not possible without an opening toward the transcendent; in other words,
human beings [and society] cannot live in chaos. Once contact with the transcendent
is lost, existence in the world ceases to be possible” (Eliade 57).
Orisa-Shakespeare also reflect the primacy of Ifa and itan in this regard by
presenting characters who are enmeshed in the conflict between personal quest and
communal need that is based on a corresponding ontological imperative. Wesoo,
Hamlet! and Otaelo exemplify this disjuncture between personal and community
need. In Wesoo…Leto is drawn into the crisis of his father’s murder, the taboo that it
constitutes, the personal and social implication of the violence resulting from his own
vengeance against the culprit, and the effect on close associates. Otaelo’s close friends
and the entire society are destroyed by his personal reaction to physical and
psychological oppression that the Osu practice constitutes in Otaelo. Needless to
stress, the contact with “the transcendental” that Eliade envisions, deals with the
essence of spiritual awareness and how it generally influences social conduct.
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Whenever problems which threaten existence due to human action arise, Yoruba
understanding is that the individual(s) responsible for the “cosmic disruption”
has/have failed to grasp the essence of their person. As I will show later on in the
thesis, these sociocultural ideals are central thematic concerms in both Wesoo,
Hamlet! and Otaelo as it is with some of the other Orisa-Shakespeare.
Having said that, let us now consider language, symbolism and archetypal
characterization, which are the aesthetic tools that the Orisa-Shakespeare often draw
from Ifa and itan and the ways in which they could be applied to textual analyses. As
I have been doing so far, I will explain these three aesthetic features and then draw
examples from the Orisa-Shakespeare to support the explanation.
The Yoruba celebrate “ewa ede” (oratory), but condemn isokuso (vulgarity)
and ejo wewe (loquaciousness). Yoruba literaturemakesuse of language in terms of
what Adeeko calls “the coding of language” or the expression of “histories in native
idioms and literary figures of speech” (Adeeko 28). What Adeeko means is that
Yoruba verbal (including written) literature is often accompanied by some form of
itan, whether derived from myth or legend. Two examples of such forms of language
are owe (proverb) and aroko (coded metaphor).10 Modern Yoruba linguistics has
termed these forms of language akanlo ede (elevated language), more so because of
the material, behavioural and the cultural connotations guiding their usage.
As a form of language, owe acts as “flower” and “vehicle of thoughts” by

relating its subject-matter to specific social relations and by detailing truth,
intellectual concepts, and exhortation etc. The Yoruba dictum, “Owe l’esin oro, oro
l’esin owe; t’oro ba s’onu, owe la fi nwa” (Proverb is the chariot on which
conversations travel) stresses the dialectics between the speaker and listener whenever
owe is in use. Owe transmits ideas by utilizing common sayings in uncommon ways,
and draws attention to daily habits in order to convey useful existential lessons that
are drawn from the society and for the benefit of both the speaker and listener
(Adeeko 29-30). Often used by elders as both a measure of their wisdom and to
explain occurrences, owe radiates verbal brevity by comparing “[…] one thing or
situation to another [and] highlighting the essential similarities that the two share”
10Although “coded metaphor” does not fully explain the meaning of aroko, it provides us with a sense of what is
intended.
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(Owomoyela 3). The Orisa-Shakespeare also reflect Yoruba cultural attitude towards
language. In Wesoo, Hamlet! for example, obviously inflamed by Leto’s insolence,
Ayibi throws him into prison and plans to publicly humiliate the young prince. In
pleading for Leto’s life, both Asipa and Iyamode use owe in their conversation with
the angry king:
Iyamode: He’s Oba Sayedero’s son; your son too.
ObaAyibi: And a citizen, like others! Subject to the laws of the land.
Iyamode: Anger, Kabiyesi! You’re saying all this out of anger.

And what we’re begging you to do is cool down and climb
above it.
Asipa: You have to agree that all trees stand in the sun, but
they’re not all the same height.
ObaAyibi: Ah-ha? But it’s the same rain that beats them, not so?
Iyamode: You know the world better than us, Kabiyesi. You
know we cannot punish Leto like that, without remembering
who he is.
Asipa: No, Kabiyesi! You cannot punish him, without

remembering who you are
Asipa: The young man has done wrong, no one can deny it. But
if we destroy a fowl for crowing in daylight, what will we do to
the dog that barks in the moonlight?
Iyamode: A slave can be banished forever from the household

for a bad offence, but with a trueborn, we do not go further than
a reprimand. As we flog him with one hand, we must caress him
with the other. Otherwise the entire household will be scattered
one day. (63-4; emphasis added)
In using owe to convey the most important aspect of their message to Ayibi as the
dialogue shows, both Asipa and Iyamode also engage in recalling other aspects in
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which Ayibi and Leto are connected and bound by certain traditions and values. This
is what I mean by owe and related forms of language bearing some form of itan.
Although there are other examples of the use of owe in the play, what this particular
conversation underscores are the intellectual, socio-cultural and the epistemic value of
owe as a form of language among the Yoruba. Its usage also necessarily requires
understanding the relationship shared by people other than through birth, and how
such relationships can either be strengthened or jeopardized by individual actions, at
the ultimate detriment of small family units and the society at large.
In the same play, Sayedero uses aroko to communicate his objection to the
plan by his brother, Ayibi, to establish a tobacco company. Aroko is a form of
esoteric/metaphoric language that is derived from the combination of unrelated
materials, and embodies a condensed form of expression whose overall meaning can
only be deciphered by decoding the symbolism that it encodes. Sayedero uses an
aroko,made from a combination of a tortoise head and the skin of a python: “a tortoise
head” meaning, the journey of the tortoise ends in disgrace; and “skin of a python”
meaning, the deadliest snake wears the most beautiful colours, to inform Ayibi of his
decision, which causes the rift between the two brothers. Being versed in the
language, Ayibi understands what the aroko means, and, obviously enraged by the
prospect of the huge financial loss his brother’s decision would cost him, he swears to
complete the project by all means even if it involves killing him (Osofisan 26). As
ciphered language at the centre of which is also often a fairly elaborate itan/narration,
aroko not only communicates ideas but warns of another “itan” that could result from
a particular line of action and which might prove to be undesirable if allowed to
happen.Hence, aroko is much more than a simple form of language because of its
message, more so becauseof the personal and social implications of itan that it often
contains.
Ifa’s liturgy especially the iyere (songs) are often accompanied by musical
instrument, agogo (gong), just as orin (songs/music) are often used in itan both to
embellish and present the story. The examples of Ifa and itan here shows how music
functions as in both religious and profance settings. Besides, all the orisa are
identified with one or two specific Ilu (drum) and music: Sango is identified with bata
drums and Sango pipe; Ogun with dundun drums and ijala/iremoje; Obatala with
igbin drums etc. As a special medium of language, Ilu (drum), is believed to possess
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an “affecting presence”, even as it also contains both a visual and sonic dimension
that brings together Yoruba aesthetics and metaphysics through its affixed signs and
symbols. More so, it embodies and energizes by its form of language, a certain
spiritual tradition that is associated with the Orisa, not to mention its value in purely
mundane terms. In this regard, Ilu contains a special itan that shows the relationship
between people (and the Orisa) in the Yoruba society; the relationship that provides
access to spiritual, ontological and cultural information about the people.
As Esiaba Irobi observes, Yoruba drums and other musical instruments

constitute complex communication codes of indigenous performances even as they
function as “sonic/semiotic devices to preserve historical information, serve as cryptic
cultural codes, and create participatory dynamism in indigenous [Yoruba] theatre”
(Irobi 276).The kind of language that Ilu represents, is accessed through sounds,
symbols and characteristic rhythms, which suggest that Ilu and Ilu-lilu (drumming)
function as a bridge between the sacred and secular domain that captures both
spiritual and profane experiences. Also, both the “Onilu” (drummer) and the Ilu
(drum) are embodiment of itan in their own rights: the former is usually an
experienced historian, custodian of oral tradition and performer, while the latter is
her/his instrument/props, as the case may be. As essential aspects of Yoruba culture,
the former acts as the human vehicle of expression for the Orisa at the level of ritual
and worship, and aesthetic tool at the mundane level of purely ceremonial
performance; while the latter is the medium that s/he uses to connect the social world
of the Yoruba to the unseen world (De Silva 9-11).Other forms of meta-language
apart from Ilu (drum) and orin (song/music), include ofo/ ogede (invocation) and oriki
which I discussed earlier on, among others.
Orisa-Shakespeare also demonstrates the aesthetic relevance of orin (music) in

Yoruba literature and performance.In Wesoo, Hamlet!, Asipa is the virtuoso
performer who combines poetry and dance skills effectively. He renders most of the
oriki in the play as some form of poetic chant, and is accompanied by Oje, the
drummer, who plays the drum that heightens the aesthetic and performative content of
the poetic rendition. The function of ilu (Sangoma drums) in uMabatha ranges from
creating mood for a scene (often mystical) to conjuring metaphysical forces (168-70;
181-2); celebration, battle and mourning are other aspects of Zulu life that are
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intimately connected to ilu-lilu (drumming), which functions as an expressive

medium that establishes the “multi-accentual nature” (Gunner 260) of the play.
Of the Orisa-Shakespeare being studied in this thesis, Harlem Duet uses music
in the most engaging ways which also recall the the relationship between itan and iran
that I discussed earlier on. Every scene is played out against the background of one
form of musicor the other: in the Prologue to Act One, we have “a melancholic
blues”; “a blues from deep in the Mississippi delta” is set to the background of Act
One, scene two, while “a funky rendition of Aretha Franklin’s ‘Spanish Harlem’” in
Act Two, scene etc. Ric Knowles, in describing Harlem Duet, “a rhapsodic blues
tragedy,” stresses that music in the play, “links tragedy with jazz, high-Western with
Black culture even as its musical bridges perform blues on orchestral strings” (150).
In fact, Sears’ dramaturgy is marked by an impressive use of music. For example, her
solo play, Afrika Solo blends “everything from traditional African music, as in
BaMbuti music, to contemporary African music from Africa and the diaspora, as in
‘High Life’, Rap and R&B” (Dickinson 97). John Blacking’s contention that music
can neither be transmitted nor can it have meaning without the association among
people because it is deeply concerned with human feelings and experiences in society
(32), is true of the use of music in Harlem Duet. Sears shows that music is a product
of the relationship between the patterns of human organizations and the patterns of
sound produced as a result of organized interaction.
In Ifa and itan, ofo and ogede are other Yoruba forms of language often
utilized. They refer to a group of extremely powerful poetic genre, used by only
knowledgeable people in that form of verbal art. As Barber observes, in a spiritual
context, these forms of language are intensely efﬁcacious and downright dangerous,
often used to realign the balance of spiritual forces by working through a system of
verbal correspondence between the speaker and the intended audience/listener whom
they are directed. This correspondence activates an inner relationship of necessity
which, by analogy, brings about a necessary consequence–-of the addressee’s hearing
and obeying the speaker’s commands (362). Wesoo, Hamlet! dramatizes how these
forms of language are utilized in Yoruba performance and Shakespeare adaptation in
particular. In the final encounter between Leto and Ayibi where both engage in a
mock duel as masks towards the end of the play, these verbal “arsenal” and
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incantations are considered to be more efficacious to inflict the desired injury and
cause havoc much more than the physical weapon:
1st Mask: Ila tiiri! (The okro stags too long unplucked!)
2nd Mask: Ila gbo! Awo! Ogbon lenu mo, enu o m’eru! (It grows
over-ripe! Cult secret! Wisdom’s what the mouth knows, never
deceit!)
1st Mask: Benbe o dun gudu, araba o wo jeje! Awo! (The sound
of the Benbe drum is not a whisper, the araba tree can never fall
unnoticed!)
2nd Mask: Nijo inu ba bigi, igi a ya lomi! (The day the tree gets
angry, the day it crashes on the water!)
1st Mask:Nijo inu ba bomi, omi a gbegi lo! (The day the water
gets angry, the day it carries the tree away!)
2nd Mask: Gbogbogbo lowo-o yo jori! (The arm always shows

itself confidently above the head!)
1st Mask: Gbogbogbo logomo-o yo ju igi ope! Tologbo ba reku,

dandan ni ko gbe mi! (Arrogantly does the palm frond display
above the palm tree! If the cat sees a rat, it must swallow it!)
(Osofisan, 85-9)
As I earlier mentioned, each of the orisa has its own brand of music and musical
instruments. They also have specific language by which they can be “invited” to
serve certain purposes: ofo and ogede function in this regard. According to Jones, in
order to invoke the orisa, one must enlist the acoustic power of sound and the kinetic
power of movement. This is because “each orisa has its own sonic vibration that is
stimulated through word, song, prayer, and oriki; and its own kinetic and visual
resonance that is triggered by dance and symbolic/mimetic movement [which are]
designed to get the orisa’s attention (323-4). However, there are also a number of
related types of incantation, ayajo for example, which is associated with Ifa, and
“awure” used only to request blessings and good fortune (Barber 362-3). In any case,
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itan is also central to anyof these forms of language as is their relevance to Yoruba
literature.
Although symbolism is common to all languages, a sense of ritual is usually

associated with the way the Yoruba use symbols. The ritual connotations of these
symbols depend largely on the association of meaning with an object or entity,
wherein the symbol communicates a coherent whole by means of a part and elicits
new information which the literal mind cannot perceive (Eghagha 191). Ifa
conceptualizes the duality of the Yoruba world with a calabash: the upper and lower
parts as aye (earth) and orun (heaven) respectively. The earth/heaven is also
conceptualized in gender terms: the ako a t’abo (male/female) principles, aye (earth)
being the female and orun (heaven) the male, in a relationship which presupposes a
certain correspondence between the male and female gender that ensures balance in
the Yoruba universe. Because human life is also conceptualized in gender terms: male
represents toughness (lile) and the female coolness (ero), masculinity and/or its
corresponding femininity does not recognize or support any notions of oppression and
domination, but an essence that is firmly rooted in complementary relations (Olajubu
9). While the Yoruba utilize symbolism from the perspective of ritual in order to
conceptualize their world and to explain supernatural phenomena that otherwise
would have remained elusive, itan is usually the essential element that is used to offer
this conceptual understanding.
Orisa-Shakespeare also draw from Yoruba conception of symbolism from this

perspective. By coincidence, one important symbol that all the Orisa-Shakespeare
have in common is Ile, the earth, which is represented by their settings. Ile/earth
connotes different things in all the plays but what ties them together is the sense of the
past and its accommodation of the present that is the new reality being dramatized.
Otaelo’s Ala (earth god) suggests the immortality of the earth and its continued
relevance to human existence; the bara (royal mausoleum) from which the Masks
emerge in Wesoo, Hamlet! embodies this sense of ile and functions as the link
between the past (the dead) and the present (the living) in a shared relational
arrangement as I have previously mentioned.
While the Orisa dimension of Wesoo, Hamlet! manifests most clearly in its
plot construction and especially in its use of the mask, the same is achieved in
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uMabatha through the symbolism of the earth. The Zulu “earthy ontology,” as
Laurence Wright describes it, connects favourably with the symbolism of the earth in
Yoruba belief which is termed, Ile Ogere (Sacred/Mother Earth) and represented in
the play by the most significant introduction Welcome Msomi makes to the
adaptation, the Sangomas, who replace Shakespeare’s Weird Sisters. Unlike the
Weird Sisters however, the Sangomas are not witches who use abathakathi
(power/forces of malicious and discarnate evil in Zulu cosmology), but diviners and
healers. As understood in Zulu culture, the Sangomas are mortals, some of whom
usually undergo ukwethwasa, that is, training or apprenticeship to learn their art. In
Macbeth, the witches appear “[in] thunder, lightning, or in rain” (1.1.2) and in
disappearing, “they made themselves air, into which they vanished” (1.5.2), whereas
in uMabatha, “they became shadows of the night” (172), blending into the earth from
which they emerged.
In the Yoruba cosmology, Ile Ogere is informed by the knowledge that the
earth is female, the Sacred Mother, and explains the sense in which uMabatha has
introduced the Sangoma (who are women) and their appearance from the earth as
opposed to the air in Shakespeare’s play. References to the earth as a goddess are
numerous in the iyere and odu Ifa, however, what is important to us here, is the way
uMabatha uses the knowledge, thereby constituting its own form of ritual
imagination.
Moreover, in Yoruba and Zulu belief, natural sites like trees, rivers, and
especially the earth, are identified with the Orisa and primordial divinities or deified
ancestors. Human beings who are schooled in the esoteric knowledge, such as the
Sangomas, could access the cosmic energy and power that these spiritual phenomena
possess to serve their purpose. The “earthy ontology” shows uMabatha’s implicit
connection to the Yoruba belief (as in other African cultures), that humanity emerged
from the earth (Laurence Wright 101). In A Tempest, Nature (ile) is regarded as a
living entity, represented by the wind, storm and the flora and fauna of the contested
island. Césaire emphasizes this point through Caliban’s unblemished belief in Nature
and everything that is related to it, starting from his mother, Sycorax. Unlike Prospero
who believes Sycorax is dead, Caliban insists that his mother, who assumes the role of
Mother Earth and sacred Nature, is still very much alive, “You only think she’s dead
because you think the earth itself is dead…I respect the earth, because I know that
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Sycorax is alive” (18). Caliban chants Sycorax’s oriki which elaborates on her
relationship to Nature (the island) and every other elemental forces related to it:
Sycorax. Mother.
Serpent, rain, lightning.
And I see thee everywhere!
In the eye of the stagnant pool which stares back at me/

through the rushes, in the gesture made by twisted root and
its awaiting thrust.
In the night, the all-seeing blinded night/the nostril-less all-

smelling night! (18)
Although the Yoruba also recognize a three-level spatio-spiritual formation: the world
of the dead, the world of the living and the world of the unborn; they also believe that
this formation is also subsumed into the duality component, the ako a t’abo
(male/female) principles. The effect of “dismantling” this spiritual arrangement
through either cultural practice or any other forms of social interaction is well
demonstrated in Otaelo in which society is hinged on a presiding male psyche that is
given to violence and oppression. In essence, public and private power structures are
subsumed under the political life which not only denies awareness about femaleness in
its totality as it were, but also relegates it completely to the background. The society is
forced to reconceptualise its outlook after suffering a horrible tragedy that leaves the
palace, which symbolizes the soul of the community, in contempt of both itself and
society as a whole.
The duality of the Yoruba universe and its expression in concrete terms
through the male/female binary (or what I term “the connected opposites”) also
underscores the social significance of the individual’s spiritual consciousness in
terms of the symbolism that is embedded in the Ori, by which the Yoruba show that
every individual is a constituent of two entities: the physical and the spiritual being—
an extension of the ritual symbolism that I mentioned earlier.
In simple terms, Ori means “head” but in metaphysical terms, it refers to an

individual’s spiritual essence, the controlling feature of personhood. This aspect of
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Yoruba belief can be viewed from its aesthetic conception wherein Yoruba sculptors
produce figures with extremely large heads with small bodies, to indicate the
spiritual importance of Ori to the other parts of the body. This artistic expression is
also informed by the belief that “every living person has a spirit partner (a “look-
alike”) in heaven called enikeji (heavenly double) who offers spiritual protection to
its earthly counterpart” (Lawal 503). The supreme example of this duality or
correspondence is offered by the Orisa, in the Ifa (Orunmila) and his relationship
with Esu, as it is clearly expressed with the image on the Opon Ifa (Divination tray),
at the apex of which is the face of Esu, and on the iroke (Divination tapper).
Fig.1. An oval-shaped Opon Ifa (Divination tray).
Yoruba understanding about what distinguishes human beings from, and makes them
unique to, other creatures is fully expressed in the itan on Ori. The itan shows that
human beings are also composed of a tripartite (three level) structure that is
subsumed in a duality as is the Yoruba universe: a physical element called ara
(body) that is tangible and made up of flesh, bone and blood; emi (soul) the
spiritual/immaterial aspect which gives life to the body; and ori-inu, which is also
spiritual and constitutes the essence of personality, and is actually what is referred to
when Ori is mentioned. The figure (3) below explains the spiritual composition of
Ori through the Opon Ifa. It represents both the map of consciousness and the
Yoruba concept of the mind, that the Ori asserts influence on.
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Fig.2. Images of the iroke (Divination tapper).
In another elaborate itan from the Yoruba mythology which suggests that people
choose their Ori before coming into the world, the origin of that spiritual act is traced
to the same Orisa Nla of the Atunda episode that I mentioned earlier in the
introduction to this thesis. As the itan goes, Orisa Nla moulds the human body (ara)
from clay, after which Olodumare gives the body life or the breath force (emi).
Having been activated, these “human beings” proceed to Ajala (deity in charge of
making Ori) where they select Ori, an important task which has three
elements/results: it is done with free will; the Ori selected is irreversible and
determines the life course and personality of that particular individual; and lastly, the
individual is unaware of what has been chosen (Orangun 43-5; Ekanola 41-3), but
actions and events in human life can provide a glimpse into the kind of Ori that was
chosen by the individual.That is why, when an individual is lucky or unlucky, it is
common for the Yoruba to say “ose oriire” (S/he has a “good” Ori) or “ose ori
buruku” (S/he has a “bad” Ori) to either explain the irreversibility of fate/destiny or
to find a plausible explanation for a rather perplexing situation.
To this end, Yoruba understanding is that causality has its place in the
discussion of fate/destiny wherein human action and the people’s response to
circumstance generally determine what would be considered to be their fate. Thus, at
its utmost, they regard Ori as mere potentiality, subject to social ethics and individual
response (Orangun 143-4). More so, Ori as mere potentiality allows us to view the
ordeal of the characters whose lives we shall encounter in the analyses of the Orisa-
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Shakespeare as another set of journeys given to multiplicity of interpretations, in

relation to the ritual practices which underpin their interactions and relationships,
within the context of a Yoruba epistemic understanding.
Fig.3. An artistic impression of the cardinal points of the Opon

Ifa showing its connection to Ori.
The above discussion leads us to how characters are used in itan since the relationship
among fictional characters are a reflection of the social relations among people. As I
mentioned in the introduction to the thesis, the perception that life is not static informs
the Yoruba’s conception of the Orisa in physical terms in order to use their attributes
as analogy for human behaviour. I refer to this aesthetic conception as archetypal
characterization; again the Yoruba use itan to show this understanding. Archetypal
images do occur and re-occur, yielding possibilities of explication, either in a narrow
context or in a broad view, of the collective human experience (Eghagha 192), which
suggests the relevance of myth and ritual to the issues of our times.
Yoruba itan and art uses Orisa attributes to explore howhuman beings strive to
maintain a balance between the world of matter and the unseen; between human
actions and fate/destiny; and the need to strike a balance between success and failure
as a result of spiritual consciousness and objective reality. Hence, as their indigenous
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counterparts (oral performers) have done, Western-educated Yoruba writers also

acknowledge the “service” that the Orisa render among the Yoruba as “human”
vehicle of narration and figures who people their itan. Soyinka pays homage to the
Orisa, and thank them “for their self-sacrifice on the altar of literature, and in so doing
press them into further service on behalf of human society, and its quest for the
explication of being.” He recognizes their “manipulative histories” which are also
used in the Yoruba global diaspora as visual contents and for dramatic actions.
Soyinka mentions that the “symbols of Yemaja (Yemoja), Oxosi (Ososi), Exu (Esu)
and Xango (Sango) not only lead a promiscuous existence with Roman catholic saints
but are fused with the twentieth-century technological and revolutionary
expressionism of the mural arts of Cuba, Brazil and much of the Caribbean”.
Soyinka’s understanding of the “universalizing essence” of the Orisa stems from their
metaphor and signification, as the “product of the conscious creativity of [the people];
and how such knowledge enhances [the people’s sense of] existence within the cyclic
consciousness of time” (Soyinka 1976: 1-2), recognized in the Yoruba universe.
Itan, as well as the Orisa-Shakespeare under study, shows that a parallel can
still be found between the ritual actions of the Orisa and the actions of contemporary
human beings in their daily activities. Soyinka illuminates this symbiotic relationship
between human beings and the Orisa, “The Will of man is placed beyond surrender.
Without the knowing of Divinity by man, can Deity survive? O Hesitant one, Man's
conceiving is fathomless; his community will rise beyond the present reaches of the
mind. Orisa reveals Destiny as-self-destination” (Soyinka 1991: 35). Generally, the
characters come across as archetypes whose experiences and interactions in the
fictive world of the texts also interact within the consciousness of the audience.
Archetypal characters, as we are reminded by Carter Harrison, are more “vital to
public testimony than individual characters pursuing their own personal assessment
of reality; they provide potent communal references that illuminate the social
landscape” (xlii), especially when we recall that these archetypes are drawn from the
orisa, who occupy the central position at the heart of the Yoruba universe.In other
words, the importance of using the Orisa as archetypes is located in the Yoruba’s
quest for “the balance of life, the very sense of human existence [which] consists in
the dynamic correlation of individual responsibility and the pressure of external
events and forces” so that the people can order society according to their own
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circumstances and live harmoniously within themselves. As it must have become

clear by now, the Yoruba universe accommodates a tradition of allegorical and
symbolic literature often “set within the framework of a particular complex of
cultural references, the essence of their myth [and ritual] being a comprehensive
metaphor for life (Irele181-2); and as a mechanism of “images and symbols with
intense spiritual significance” (196), for the people and sustenance of their world.
Thus far, I have used itan in its multidimensional value to provide

information about the Yoruba, with emphasis on the interconnection between their
social/cultural/ritual constructs and poetic aesthetic. I have also examined this
symbiotic relationship as embodied by Ifa, and how that relationship is central to the
task of developing of a theory of Yoruba Shakespeare adaptation that is useful for
exploring the cultural and political contexts of the Orisa-Shakespeare in this thesis.
In the following sub-section, I will also use the sense of itan as history, to trace
Shakespeare’s journey, arrival and reception in Africa andhis encounter with
Yorubaland, after which I will show example of the application of the theory by
using it to examine A’are Akogun and Itan Oginintin (Yoruba adaptations of
Macbeth and The Winter’s Tale) respectively.
Shakespeare’s Travels: Through the heart of Africa into Yorubaland
In this section, I will trace the arrival of Shakespeare into and travel in different parts
of the African continent in order to highlight what is unique about his reception in
Yorubaland.11 As I will show below, while Shakespeare was embraced as a “part” of
the Egyptian/Arabian life and culture in North Africa, was identified with violence
and brutality in South Africa, and considered an ally to promote the indigenous
languages in East Africa, he was deployed to engage socio-political concerns in
Yorubaland different from the ways he was received in those other places.12
11By “Shakespeare,” let us have in mind the canon and not the person.
12The same applies here: with “Shakespeare” I have in mind Shakespeare’s works as being assimilated into
Egyptian/Arabian life, his works deployed to engage socio-political concerns, as are my references to the fact that
Shakespeare becomes entangled in violence in South Africa, a situation that he is unable to extricate himself from.
Yet, as many scholars have argued, invoking “Shakespeare” is quite ambiguous, whether one looks at him as a
“cultural deity” (Levine 53) and/or as a canon and site of contest for various ideologies. Shakespeare, as Fischlin
and Fortier argue, is more than a figure of literary history that defies easy definition (9).
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Specifically, the adapters use itan which encompases Yoruba epistemology and its
aesthetic pinciples to perform the task.
According to Baham and Jones, the first contact of Africa with Shakespeare’s
work was in 1607 with the performances of Hamlet and Richard II by some British
sailors somewhere in Sierra Leone (121).13 Writing elsewhere, Laurence Wright
mentions that Henry IV was also performed in 1801 by some British soldiers to open
the Sir George Young’s “African Theatre” on the former Hottentot’s Square in Cape
Town, South Africa (14). In addition to those initial performances which were
followed by periodic staging of the same by missionaries, professional and amateur
theatre companies which approached the works in different ways, the inclusion of the
works on the school curricula of some of these African countries finally aided the
spread and popularity of Shakespeare on the continent.
Egyptian writers set the pace in regard to the nature of subsequent reception
accorded Shakespeare on the continent. In translating Shakespeare’s texts into the
Arabic language, the Egyptians approach Shakespeare with a view to reclaim him as a
native Arab. Soyinka explains that the Egyptians approached Shakespeare with the
consciousness of a “Shakespeare” that was of an Arabian/Egyptian origin, and claimed
that his name was an anglicized version of his “original” Bedouin name, “Shayk al-
Subair” while his wife’s, Anne Hathaway, was also “Hanna Hathawa” (Soyinka
1988:206-9). As Khalil Mutran also writes:
In Shakespeare, there is doubtless something Arabic…between

him and us there are puzzling and numerous common features.
He has our audacity for metaphor and its manipulation [and] our
infatuation with hyperbole which is probably used and sensed by
only those writers and readers who have imaginative intensity
and defiance, as it is often with Orientals and specifically Arabs.
On the whole, there is in the writing of Shakespeare a Bedouin
spirit which is expressed in the continuous return to innate
nature. (7-8)
Regardless of the historical accuracy of these contentions, between 1899 and 1950,
the Egyptians had translated and adapted more than sixteen of Shakespeare’s plays
13 Evidence however suggests that the document upon which this claim is based might have been forged.
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into Arabic, not to mention several plays that his works inspired. Of all
Shakespeare’s plays however, they found Othello to be most compelling and close to
their own experience.They contended that by virtue of both his title and description
in the play, Othello, the Moor, “is an Arab in Europe.” According to Ferial Ghazoul,
the Egyptians approached Othello from an Arabian historical and cultural perspective
that sought to explore areas where its central character, Othello, and the story
overlapped with Arabian life in general. Othello became for the Egyptians, a symbol
of the complex process of expressing “a certain predisposition among Arabs to seek
links with Shakespeare, to claim Shakespeare or to find overlapping elements with
him” (Ghazoul 1-10). The Egyptians’ translations and adaptations of the play
transcended the urge to recreate Othello as an Arab character in an Arabian context
but also demonstrated how Shakespeare is assimilated into Arabian literary
consciousness and his infiltration of Arab imagination
Khalil Mutran and Jabra Ibrahim Jabra pioneered the translations of Othello
in Egypt and the Arabian Peninsula.While Mutran utilized religious themes and
performative modes from the Arabian culture and sought to present Othello as an
“Arabization” (ta’rib), rather than as a translation (tarjamah) (Badawi 183-9), Jabra
approached the Shakespeare text with an intertextual attitude rather than the oral,
conscious fidelity to Shakespeare and performative concerns of his predecessor.
Later generation of Egyptian translators and adapters of Othello continue to use the
titles that Mutran suggested: Atallah and Utayl, with the same consciousness of
reclaiming Shakespeare.These works ranged from a limited, superficial change in
details such as title, setting and name of few characters, to radical approaches that
resulted in complete rewriting of the story and/or its context as well as its themes.
Some of these recontextualization of Shakespeare’s texts also drew materials from
Arab mythology and familiar narratives. For examples,Mahmud Jad’s translation
entitled Atallah, is told by a hakawati (traditional storyteller), supported by rababah
(traditional chord instrument) and madahin (chorus of singers/panegyrists); ‘Abd al-
Karim Birshid’s translation, ‘Utayl wal-khayl wa-barud (Othello, Horses and
Gunpowder) draws from diverse cultures notably the myths of Atlas, Oedipus, Jonah,
and The Arabian Nights. He also uses African masks and sub-Saharan African music
in his play; Ahmad Shawqi’s MasraKliyubatra (The Fall of Cleopatra) written with
the knowledge of both Romeo and Juliet and Antony and Cleopatra, is actually based
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on the Arab narrative of Majnun and Layla. The distinguishing feature in all of these
translation/adaptations, remained the conscious effort to indigenize Shakespeare and
reclaim him as an Arab.
“Shakespeare” was not however warmly welcomed in South Africa where he

previously entered in a brutal fashion. What stands “Shakespeare of Egypt” apart from
“Shakespeare of South Africa” is that while the former embraces the canon, the latter
uses it to engage some violent aspects of South African life that are reminiscent of the
manner in which it was introduced in the society. The 1801 premiere of Henry IV in
the Sir George Young “African Theatre” Cape Town which I mentioned earlier was
possible through the forceful displacement of South Africans from their abode.
According to Laurence Wright, “to make place for the theatre, Khoesan traders were
cleared from the town, in what can only be seen as a disheartening foretaste of the
practice of forced removals which was to define apartheid, land and population
policies in the twentieth century” (15). Since that brutal encounter, the Shakespeare
canon has been cast under the shadow of ill-repute and brutality. Ironically, while both
Shakespeare and the canon symbolize villainous imperialism, South Africans also use
the texts to challenge both colonial and postcolonial political shenanigans.
South Africans’ interaction with the Shakespeare canon ranged from their
translation into their indigenous languages, study in schools, adaptation and
performances. Sol Plaatje’s Diphoshophosho (1930) and Dintshontsho Tsa Bo-Juliuse
Kesara (1931), the Tswana/Zulu language translations of both The Comedy of Errors
and Julius Caesar were the first set of such translations. But this early translations pale
in popularity in comparison to Welcome Msomi’s 1970 adaptation entitled, uMabatha,
a hugely commercially successful Zulu translation of Macbeth, which I engage as an
Orisa-Shakespeare in this thesis; and Pieter-Dick Uys’s, MacBeki: A Farcical To Be
Reckoned With, a recent adaptation of Macbeth, which uses farce, mimicry, humour
and sarcasm to explore the ANC leadership’s internal crisis, including its broader
socio-political implication for South Africa and its people. Uys does not hide the
identity of the historical figures at the centre of the crisis, or his intention to ridicule
them.
Shakespeare was also at the centre of a heated debate among scholars in South
Africa during the early years of the development of Postcolonial theory, especially in
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relation to Apartheid South Africa.14 It was a debate which tremendously aided

Shakespeare reception in South Africa compared to the other parts of the African
continent. In spite of the conflict of interest, the impact of Shakespeare is obvious as
he remains an important part of South African life as much as he does in other parts of
the African continent.
Unlike in Egypt where the Shakespeare canon (especially Othello) enjoyed

tremendous patronage in the Arabian Peninsula, in South Africa where the premiere of
his works and their subsequent reception have been tied to violence and brutality, East
Africans embraced the canon seeking instead the inherent value in order to promote
their indigenous languages. Julius Nyerere’s Swahili translation of Julius
Kaisari/Julius Caesar (1963) and Mabepari wa Venisi/The Merchant of Venice (1969)
represent the kind of enthusiasm with which Shakespeare canon was received.
Nyerere’s translations are particularly important because of the popularity and debate
they engendered. While Ali Mazrui sees an ideological leaning in these translations
that were inspired as it were, “by [Nyerere’s] shift towards Ujamaa” and a
commitment to creative literature beyond the constraints of a certain sensibility and
reaction of Africa against the West that was represented by Shakespeare (Mazrui
1996), Jane Plastow argues that Nyerere’s translations were motivated by cultural
legitimacy, “as a way of disarming detractors of Swahili language who said it could
not be the vehicle of science and high culture, and who were opposed to its adoption
as a national language” and more importantly with the aim to “assist the meteoric rise
of Swahili to its status as a national literature today” (88). Elsewhere in that same
region, the Ethiopian writer, Tsegaye Gebre-Medhin also translated into Amharic
language both Othello and Hamlet in the 1980s; Sony Lab’ou Tansi translated Romeo
and Juliet in 1990. There are other Kiswahili translations, Mabruk/Macbeth (1970)
and Mlariba/The Merchant of Venice (1971) in Kenya; Hadithi za Kiingereza/Tales
from Shakespeare (1940) in Tanzanian, and Hadithi Ingereza, a compilation of the
translations of The Taming of the Shrew, The Merchant of Venice, King Lear and
Timon of Athens; S.S. Mushi’s Makbeth/Macbeth (1968) and Tufani/The Tempest
(1969) respectively.
14For examples, Martin Orkin argues for the need to engage Shakespeare in ways that no longer subtly encourage
a passive acceptance of the apartheid system but rather in ways that promote more active awareness of the
possibility of alternatives to it” (1991:11), David Johnson maintains that Shakespeare symbolizes the colonial
cultural capital and economic aggression by playing a “deeply compromised role in larger histories of imperial
violence” (214).
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The Mauritian playwright, Dev Virahsawmy has built on Nyerere’s earlier

example. Virahsawmy remains the most prolific translator and adapter of Shakespeare
on the African continent at the moment, hence he deserves more attention here. The
“transcreation” and/or “translation-adaptation”, as he prefers to call them, are
experiments that cross the “borders of culture, language, continents and genre and
embrace a variety of texts and productions.” In his most popular play till date,
Toufann, subtitled “A Mauritian Fantasy” and based on Shakespeare’s The Tempest,
Virahswamy demonstrates both his abiding interest in, and the intention to use,
Shakespeare to “build bridges across cultures”; “across linguistic and geographical
borders” and to “enhance the prestige of [his Morisien Kreol] language” (Wilkinson
109-13). He has worked consistently using his adaptations of Shakespeare to address a
myriad of subjects in Mauritius.
At present, a list of Virahsawmy’s adaptations of Shakespeare Enn ta Senn dan

Vid/Much Ado About Nothing,1995; Zeneral Macbef/Macbeth,1981; Sir Toby/Twelfth
Night,1998; Zil Sezar/Julius Caesar,1999; Trazedji Macbess/Macbeth,1997. There are
also Dernie Vol (The Last Flight, 2003), a translation-adaptation of Antony and
Cleopatra, in which a guilt-ridden, blind Antwann meets an aged Kleopatra (a sex
worker in her past) at an airport; Prezidan Otelo (President Othello, 2003), portrays
Othello as a homosexual President, Iago as the Prime Minister and Desdemona,
Othello’s closest friend, as Vice-Prime Minister. He replaces Othello’s handkerchief
with a book of poems by Khalid Gibran. In Tabisman Lir (Lir’s Estate, 2003),
translation of King Lear, he presents Kordelia as a victim of the HIV virus, banished
from her father’s estate. In Dokter Hamlet (Doctor Hamlet, 1996) his adaptation of
Hamlet, he treats issues of marriage, abortion and euthanasia. In the play, Hamlet is
the brother of Mrs Ermionn Kapilet (Hermione Capulet) and Ziliet (Juliet) is his niece;
in Ramdeo ek so Ziliet (Ramdeo and her Juliet, 2012), another version of Romeo and
Juliet, he uses an idea from The Winter’s Tale, with the statues of Ramdeo, Ziliet and
their baby returning to life (Beesoondial 98-9). As it is evident, key changes that
Virahsawmy makes to Shakespeare’s play are in the area of title, character and the
thematic preoccupation.
Most of these translators also work strong political statements into their
translations, even as they envisioned their works to be part of the efforts to promote
their traditional languages. In achieving their aim, they use indigenous aesthetic
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resources, draw inspiration from the flora and fauna of their environments, and
deliberately insert some words from their indigenous languages into the translated
texts without translating them. They use this style of narration to celebrate
Shakespeare and move the works beyond mere translation into cultural re-creation at
the same time (Banham and Jones 121-3). These authors also use the adaptive
strategies to emphasize the possibility of transforming their indigenous languages into
a globally accepted mode of communication, like the English language, while drawing
from Shakespeare’s authority.15
In Yorubaland of Nigeria however, Shakespeare reception does not focus on

promoting the Yoruba language as a global means of communication but to
specifically address the people’s socio-political concerns. E. T. Johnson’s translation
of Julius Caesar (1930) is the first recorded Yoruba version of Shakespeare, whereas
as far back as 1842 to 1882, a standard orthography had been established for the
Yoruba language; Samuel Crowther an ex-slave and Yoruba man had compiled the
Vocabulary of the Yoruba Language (1843) and the Yoruba Primer (1849) which
assisted greatly in subsequent publications of newspapers in Yoruba language
(Olatunji 23-4). As it were, by the time Shakespeare arrived in Yorubaland, there was
already in existence a flourishing oral tradition which would later support the written
genre. As Barber also contends, “Yoruba literary culture is one of the few in Africa to
be supported by an extensive, and sophisticated local critical scholarship in the same
language as the literature itself” (357). At the moment, there are only five Nigerian
adaptations of Shakespeare: Yerima’s Otaelo/Othello (2002); Osofisan’s Wesoo,
Hamlet!/Hamlet (2012) and Love’s Unlike Lading/Love’s Labour’s Lost (2012); Wale
Ogunyemi’s Yoruba/English bilingual adaptation, A’are Akogun/Macbeth (1968); and
Tade Ipadeola’s Itan Oginintin/The Winter’s Tale (2012), performed by Renegade
Theatre, Lagos, at the Globe to Globe Shakespeare Festival in the summer of 2012 in
London. I will devote the rest of this chapter to discussing A’are Akogun and Itan
Oginintin in order to highlight how they use some of the key traits that distinguish the
Orisa-Shakespeare. These include the use of: 1) characters’ names for dramatic
15The Sierra Leonean playwright, Thomas Decker, envisions his translation ofJulius Caesar into Krio language in
1964 and Udat Di Kiap Fit/As You Like It much later, to perform similar functions. Decker hopes that his
translation can prove that the Krio language is useful to discuss “the most serious things” and to make it possible
for his people to “taste of the excellence of [Shakespeare] by seeing [some] of his popular plays staged in their own
language” (qtd in Banham and Jones 134).
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purposes, 2) archetypal characters drawn from the Orisa, 3) myth and ritualas
narrative tool, and 4) music and akanlo ede (elevated language) respectively.
Ogunyemi is an ardent believer in Yoruba culture and its worldview.

Reflecting his exposure to a wide variety of Yoruba rituals, ceremonies and
masquerade performances, Ogunyemi’s literary output is marked by “a penchant for
plays with a ritual and ceremonial axis, even as they cut across historical, mythical and
cultural boundaries.” In A’are Akogun, Ogunyemi recreates Shakespeare “in the light
of Yoruba aesthetics and metaphysics” (Adelugba 202-5), while hybridizing Yoruba
and English in the dialogue.
A’are Akogun, subtitled “a Nigerian tragedy of the supernatural, based on

Shakespeare’s Macbeth” illustrates Ogunyemi’s abiding belief in the social relevance
of myth and ritual. The play examines the violence associated with military coups in
Nigeria and Africa and the civilian perpetration which encouraged military incursion
into politics. At the time the play was written and performed in 1968 several countries
in Africa had gained independence from colonial rule but this new-found freedom was
quickly interrupted by military coups. Nigeria was embroiled in a civil war which
started in 1967 and caused mainly by the disagreement in the rank and file of the
military class, following two bloody military coups in which some members of the
ruling civilian class were assassinated in 1966. Although Ogunyemi uses the play to
condemn the “vaulting ambition” of the military class in Nigeria, it is also apparent
that its theme is applicable to Africa’s postcolonial era of civilian maladministration.
He shows how the failure of civilian politics and the disillusionment which
accompanied it, paved the way for military incursion into Nigeria/African politics.
The play centres on A’are Akogun and his wife, Olawumi (the Macbeths’), as
they manipulate their way to power through the support of Osowole (Hecate) and the
three witches. Jagun (Banquo), another military leader and the Oba’s son, Daodu
(Malcolm), watch with grave concern as A’are Akogun is praised for his valour in
battle and elevated to the rank of Aare Ona Kakanfo (Field Marshall) by the old king
(Oba). Shortly after his elevation A’are Akogun, with the support of his wife whom
the witches have put under control through ritual manipulation, murders the Oba and
takes the crown. Daodu flees the land pursued by Osowole, who is much more
involved in the actions of this adaptation than in Shakespeare’s play.
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Ogunyemi uses character names to indicate key points of difference between

his adaptation and Shakespeare’s text. Each character’s name suggests something
important about their role and temperament in the play. For examples, he replaces
Lady Macbeth with Olawumi (translated as “I desire affluence and power”), and
Malcolm with Daodu (which literally means “successor”) Daodu also replaces Banquo
at the banquet scene, except that he is not killed. Hecate (goddess of witchcraft) is
replaced by Osowole (“Oso” that is wizard, being the male equivalent of a witch in
Yoruba culture), a powerful and supernatural being whose name translates as “Wizard
enters the home” suggesting some kind of invasion. A’are Akogun is killed by Jagun
and Daodu right after seeing the corpse of his wife being brought in by Osowole and
the three witches. In addition, the scenes involving the supernatural characters take
place against a background of Yoruba ritual and music.
Through the vehicle of myth and ritual, Ogunyemi transfers Shakespeare’s

play into a Yoruba environment that recognizes the role of the supernatural in the
affairs of human beings. In the scene in A’are Akogun that replaces Shakespeare’s
Porter’s scene, the three witches settle down to a game of ayo, an indigenous Yoruba
form of indoor game similar to chess. The sound being made as the seeds of the ayo
are dropped into the hollow on the rectangular-shaped board, represents the persistent
loud knocking on the door, accompanied by an exchange between the witches. In
another sense, the ayo board symbolizes the Opon Ifa, the witches represent the
diviners who predict A’are Akogun’s tragic future. The language of exchange here is
also a mixture of proverbial riddles and ayajo (incantations):
Witch 1: knock, knock, knock. Wait!
Witch 2: knock, knock, knock. Speak on.
The mounds on your chest/ Are things of inheritance
Witch 1: knock, knock.
Tell me, has anyone seen a bird fly/ And he crashes into a tree?
Witch 2: knock, knock, knock.
A bird never flies and crashes into a tree. Never!
Witch 1: knock, knock.
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That never happens where we are---in hell/But it happens daily

in the world/ When a drunkard drinks his senses with wine/ His
path becomes darkened/He dies, not knowing when he runs into
his doom…
Witch2: knock, knock.
We find satisfaction in human distress and sufferings/We eat

human livers with impunity. (qtd in Banham and Jones 125)
Ogunyemi also introduces a combination of music and choric dialogue, especially

ofo/ogede that are peculiar features of Yoruba ritual and language, which he uses
effectively to accentuate the presence of the supernatural. The murder scene is a good
example in this regard. As A’are Akogun prepares to enter the chamber where the Oba
sleeps and kill him, he is supported and urged on with choric chant rendered by
Olawunmi and Awon Aje (the witches):
Olawunmi: Ijo omode ba dari koruru Laa ruku ee wale. (The

day a child plays with death, is the day her/his corpse is brought
home from the farm)
Awon Aje: Paa! (Kill him!)
Olawumni: Idojude laa hahun. (The tortoise is discovered face

downward)
Olawunmi: Ifaya lale laa hegbin. (The snail is found crawling

on the ground)
Olawunmi: Paa! (Kill him!)
Awon Aje: Paa! (Kill him!) (qtd in Banham and Jones 127)
Ogunyemi’s use of myth and ritual is significant for a number of reasons. Aside from
demonstrating how a universal meaning of an already familiar Shakespeare text can
co-exist alongside a specifically cultural translation, his choice also points at how
ritual imagination and aesthetics can be deployed for political purposes (Banham and
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Jones 135). Although it is presented through the Yoruba culture and its aesthetics, the
play’s operatic mode of presentation also illustrates the dynamism of fusing foreign
and local forms together.
Itan Oginintin also utilizes Yoruba myth and aesthetics effectively by re-
imagining Shakespeare’s The Winter’s Tale as a drama involving some of the principal
deities from the Orisa pantheon. It is written by Ayantade Ipadeola, a Yoruba
traditional chief, award-winning poet, drummer and performance-artist. The classical
Oyo Yoruba language used in the play is comparable to Shakespeare’s Elizabethan
English both in structure and syntax; and the play is unique in that it is the only
Shakespeare adaptation that is entirely in the Yoruba language.
The play relocates the conflict between King Leontes of Sicilia and his
childhood friend, King Polixenes of Bohemia to old Oyo and Ire, two ancient Yoruba
communities, and transfers the conflict between King Leontes and King Polixenes, to
the duel between Ogun and Sango, two of the principal orisa of the Yoruba pantheon.
The two orisa, both of whom are also identified with Ire and Oyo in Yoruba
mythology, symbolize the rivalry that has characterized Yoruba politics in general.
Hence, the adaptation reinterprets Shakespeare from a specifically Yoruba historical
and mythological context, which re-enacts the tensions at the time the play was set.
Itan Oginintin begins with the events Shakespeare places in the middle of Act
Three. A boat transports the exhausted and hungry Antigonus and Oluola (Perdita)
into Ire, Ogun (Polixenes)’s kingdom. This scene is immediately followed bya series
of flashbacks to the discovery of baby Oluola by Darandaran (Old Shepherd), and her
courtship with Ogun’s son, Folawewo (Florizel). The story then shifts to Ogun’s
refusal to bless his son’s union with Oluola. Angry and confused, Folawewo acts on
Adeagbo (Camilla)’s advice and elopes with Oluola to Sango (Leontes)’s palace and
kingdom in Oyo, which brings us to what seems to be the present. Not long
afterwards, Ogun traces his son to Sango’s palace, unknown to him at that time, to
convince the angry lover to come home and not get married to a commoner’s
daughter. It was here that he meets Sango and their age-long feud is rekindled.
In another narrative sequence in the form of a flashback, Igba (Time) the

storyteller, reveals to the audience that Sango’s wife, Oya (Hermione), is the cause of
the quarrel between the two hero-gods. Believing that Ogun had an affair with his
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wife that resulted in the conception and birth of the “bastard” child (Oluola), Sango
quarrelled with Ogun. He also ordered the child to be killed but the sentence was
modified into banishment by Antigonus, and since kings are not allowed to see
corpses according to Yoruba custom, there was no way Sango could have known that
Oluola was not killed. Consequently, Oya became ill and soon “died” of grief, but she
transported into the world of the ancestors, in line with her mythical personality as a
member of the Orisa pantheon. At the end of the play, Adeagbo reveals the truth
surrounding Oluola’s identity, the two hero-gods are reconciled, while Oya descends
(wheeled in on a pedestal) to bless the union of Folawewo and her daughter before
transiting back into the ancestral realm.
Itan Oginintin is told with a mixture of chant, poetry and music by a character,
Igba, whose name also translates as “Time.” According to Adesola Adeyemi, by
adopting this narrative technique, Itan Oginintin succeeds in “manipulating the story-
telling culture of the Yoruba to relate it to the creativity of Shakespeare and to
reintroduce Yoruba myths to the wider world” (58). In using the narrative technique,
the linear sense of time is discarded. This non-linear, disjunctive narrative structure
also reflects a Yoruba conception of time, in which the past is linked to the future
through the present.
This sense of time is symbolized by Igba, who also represents the human life
cycle. Igba exemplifies how Yoruba narrative collapses the boundaries of space and
time and which, while “structured to entertain [it also] marries the pedigree of
Shakespeare with the tradition of the Yoruba performance culture” (59). While Igba
stands for time and its endless relevance to human conception of Self and existence,
the identity of the Clown who replaces Autolycus in the play, is merged with that of
Esu, who “travels in time” and stands for the past and the present that determine the
future. Essentially, both Igba and Esu are ancient, yet modern; past and present at one
and the same time, even as they both occupy a crucial place and boundary between
the sublime Yoruba reality of the play’s universe.
The aspect of visual aesthetics attached to the itan is represented by the
Yoruba mask, known as Igunnuko. On one hand, the Igunnuko illustrates the
continued relationship between the people and the Orisa; the constant interaction
between the dead, the living, and the unborn. The Igunnuko also embodies the
combination of ritual, memory and visual aesthetics; tall, imposing and often
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aesthetically-attired in many layers of clothing. It is associated with Sango in Yoruba

mythology, hence its appearance in the last scene during Folawewo and Oluola’s
wedding in Sango’s palace is in order. On the other hand, the Igunnuko illustrates
Yoruba utilization of myth and history in their narrative and performance. Introduced
as a masking cult into Yorubaland originally by Nupe immigrants, the Igunnuko
performance was staged strictly as part of funeral rites of a deceased elder (Drewal
45), but it acquired other mundane roles as time progressed.
Another aesthetic element in the play is the metaphysical significance and/or
symbolism of the settings, namely; Oyo and Ire respectively. Symbolism of this type,
as Eliade reminds us, deals with the “reality that is strictly metaphysical [and] can be
approached in no other way than through myths and symbols” (Eliade 136).The
symbolism of place/setting through the replacement of Sicily and Bohemia with Ire
and Oyo is also extended to characterization with Ogun and Sango both of whom are
identifiedwith the two Yoruba historical cities which are still in existence today. While
the symbolism illustrates how Yoruba adaptations blend history, myth and rituals that
serve as the people’s mechanisms of knowing, the conflict between the two hero-gods
also reflects the rivalry that characterizes Yoruba politics.
This aesthetic mechanism is also connected to Yoruba belief in death and

immortality as demonstrated through the “death” and “resurrection” of Oya, who
replaces Hermione. A blend of the “death” trope with Shakespeare’s idea of restoring
the statue of Hermione back to life in The Winter’s Tale, is a clear demonstration of
how Yoruba adaptations merge indigenous resources with foreign ones. It also shows
the power and penetrating influence of Shakespeare on cultures with which he has
made contact and how such cultures and the adapters’ have been able to transform and
use him to serve their own purposes. As Fischlin and Fortier argue, Shakespeare has
“become a complex network of discursive, cultural, and historical practices, [that are]
not all necessarily literary” (9). Prior to the opening of the Globe to Globe festival
where Itan Oginintin was performed by the Wole Oguntokun-led Lagos-based
Renegade Theatre, Julie Sanders observes that a number of keynotes of conventional
British theatre would be joyously set aside and turned on their heads. This claim was
clearly demonstrated during the play’s performance. In her review, Sanders describes
the performance as a refraction of the Shakespearean story of oracles and animated
statues from a Yoruba cosmology through dance, drumming and song. She notes that
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the highlight of the play is “the compelling experience of hearing Shakespeare

delivered in [an]other language on a London stage” (“Blogging Shakespeare”). In his
own review, Adeyemi explains that the adaptation “has several new twists that present
a fresh interpretation of the relationship between these gods while also subverting the
original context and content of Shakespeare’s play.” He contends that through its
choice of setting and characterization, Itan Oginintin is “imbued with mythical and
ritual aesthetic resources despite the apparent effort to engage its new reality through
a Western theatrical convention” (52) that is represented by the ambience of the Globe
theatre.
As distinctly Yoruba adaptations of Shakespeare, A’are Akogun and Itan

Oginintin provide us with clear examples of ways in which the Orisa-Shakespeare
operate. Although both plays rely on Shakespeare and make use of several aspects of
his plays that they have adapted specifically in the area of characterization and
storyline, they also differ from Shakespeare at the same time through recourse to
Yoruba epistemological and aesthetic resources. Often as signalled by the choices of
characters’ names, the characters in the Orisa-Shakespeare are a mixture of the
fictional and mythical, and are essentially archetypal. Because characters of Yoruba
narration are mere analogies for the human society, Yoruba Shakespeare adaptations
are not compelled to use or involve characters with Shakespearean names even though
they use his story. As Eghagha reminds us, “archetypal images do occur and re-occur
[in Yoruba itan/theatre] yielding possibilities of explication, either in a narrow context
or in the broad view of the collective human experience” (192). In A’are Akogun for
example, while the Shakespeare characters are re-introduced, others like Osowole (re-
imagined from Shakespeare’s Hecate) represents Yoruba belief in the
spiritual/metaphysical influence over human beings; Aare Akogun represents
historical figures, the military personality (dictator and civilian tyrant) whose rude
entrance into Yoruba/African life in the 1960s continues to pose a serious challenge to
politics and leadership on the continent. In Itan Oginintin, Shakespeare’s characters
are re-imagined as mythical characters drawn from the Orisa pantheon, especially two
of the “hot” orisa identified with brutality and violence, Ogun and Sango, as a
reminder of the instability, violence and uncertainty of socio-political situations
among the Yoruba of Nigeria and much of the rest of the African continent.
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Both plays show that Yoruba adaptations of Shakespeare often utilize only the
essential details of Shakespeare’s storyline which they rework to suit their own
purpose. As I have demonstrated, Ifa and itan provide adequate examples for these
two Yoruba adaptations in this regard. A’are Akogun discards Banquo/murderers
scene but retains the Banquet scene which it also reworks; recreates Macbeth’s
encounter with the witches by bringing them into Aare Akogun’s house and getting
Osowole (Hecate) more involved in the actions; retains some of Shakespeare’s
characters but also introduces new ones, and changes the nature of some completely,
especially the Witches. Itan Oginintin also rearranges Shakespeare’s storyline and
chooses to start its own itan from where Shakespeare makes his own Act three; the
entire story is presented as a series of flashbacks, adopting a cyclical rather than a
linear plot structure, which is synonymous to Yoruba traditional oral narrative being
told by a storyteller (Igba in this specific case).
Both plays also use Yoruba symbolism in their setting and objects. In the
aspect of setting, Oyo and Ire in Itan Oginintin derives from the sense contained in ile
ogere (Sacred earth) which stresses the ritual/spiritual properties of Nature and the
connection between people and their environment. This sense of awareness about the
environment results from the animist conception of the Yoruba universe; of a
continued relationship between human being and the cosmic, which is represented by
the earth. In the aspect of object, the palace in A’are Akogun is a sacred ground, while
the murder of the Oba is the violation of that sacred entity in a strictly religious sense.
Mask is the other symbolic object in both plays: Igunnuko in Itan Oginintin clearly
shows the connection between humans and their ancestry; while masks are used in
A’are Akogun to hide identity: Osowole uses a mask when he appears as the murderer,
but retains his personality unmasked.
Both plays use drum language, chants and invocation as aesthetic

embellishment that is reminiscent of the Alarinjo, the Yoruba travelling theatre. Music
which serves as medium of conversation in Yoruba ritual is also used effectively in
the two plays to create a sense of the mystical/supernatural. While Itan Oginintin uses
a combination of iwi (egungun poetry), and ewi (poetry), ijala (hunters’ chants) laced
with fuji beats (Adeyemi 56-7), A’are Akogun is presented as a mixture of dialogue
and music, in the form of Yoruba folk opera that “thrives on the cultural adjuncts of
myth, legend, and the lore of the Yoruba community” in which aesthetics and message
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are handled effectively through the use of consciously repeated cultural codes
(Obafemi 34). In blending these oral/verbal and performative resources together with
historical and mythical materials, the plays show that “Shakespeare is, here, now,
always, what is currently being made of him” (Holderness xvi). Thus far, I have
argued that although Orisa-Shakespeare often borrow from Shakespeare’s story and
characters, they do not necessarily use his plot or repeat the themes of his works.
What is also evident is that Yoruba theory and creative practice is integral to what
could be described as Orisa-Shakespeare. This set of Shakespeare adaptations are
based on, and influenced by, Yoruba worldview, aesthetic principles and politics. In so
doing, they respond to their past and present realities while suggesting ideas to
address future occurrences rather than challenging the Western culture that
Shakespeare privileges.
In this chapter also, I have introduced the Yoruba, their belief, myth and ritual.
I have traced the origin and development of Yoruba drama and theatre and then went
ahead to develop a Yoruba theory of Shakespeare adaptation, which draws from the
Yoruba epistemology and its aesthetic principles at the centre of which is Ifa, the body
of esoteric knowledge. I emphasized the centrality of itan to Ifa and the development
of the theory, and used its conception as story/narrative/history to provide a succinct
information about Shakespeare reception and scholarship in Africa and Yorubaland
which the Orisa-Shakespeare speaks to. I concluded by using the theory to examine
A’are Akogun and Itan Oginintin, the Yoruba adaptations of Macbeth and The Winter’s
Tale respectively, with particular emphasis on how they use Shakespeare to “make
something new” and to address their “here and now.” In the next chapter of the thesis,
I will explore the cultural and political contexts of the Orisa-Shakespeare which I
have classified into “Home” (Wesoo, Hamlet!,Otaelo, uMabatha) and “Diaspora” (A
Tempest, Lear Ananci, Harlem Duet) respectively, in order to show how Yoruba
adaptations engage their society by using Shakespeare as their canvas.
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CHAPTER TWO
Introduction: Ogun vs Esu/Orunmila: the Quest for an Alter/Native Tradition16
In this chapter, I aim to explore what the Orisa-Shakespeare mean in their cultural and
political context by applying the framework of analysis that I developed in the
previous chapter, and not to address what the texts are saying in relation to
Shakespeare’s texts that they have adapted, or drawn materials from. Earlier on, I
classified the adaptations into “Home” (Wesoo, Hamlet!, Otaelo and uMabatha) and
“Diaspora” (A Tempest, Lear Ananci, and Harlem Duet) for ease of reference. In the
first group, I will engage Wesoo, Hamlet! and Otaelo; and in the other group, I will
examine Lear Ananci and Harlem Duet. In each text, I will draw conclusions so that,
together, they will represent different facets of the Orisa-Shakespeare.
The Orisa-Shakespeare in the “Home” group dramatize Nigeria’s recurring

socio-political failures. Wesoo, Hamlet! addresses the shenanigan of civilian rule,
political/civil unrests and the absurdity of postcolonial tribal politics and economic
policies in Nigeria; Otaelo addresses the violence associated with marginalization and
ostracism. Although these adaptations focus specifically at each of the adapter’s
immediate society, the issues they engage cut across the African continent. Although
these adaptations recognize Shakespeare’s complicity with oppression because of his
representation of “colonial and imperial imperatives” (Fischlin 5), they still use his
works by adapting them to address the socio-political failures in their societies. In
some specific ways, Wesoo, Hamlet! revives “Shakespeare” and his characters:
Hamlet, Ophelia and Claudius as part of its charactersand involves them in the
Nigerian/African situation that it dramatizes. Otaelo also draws inspiration from Titus
Andronicus and The Merchant of Venice and thus comes across as a kind of revenge
tragedy. In uMabatha, the heavy presence of and reliance on Shakespeare is evident
through the strong echoes of his play in spite of the adaptation’s Zulu cultural milieu.
These adaptations recognize how Shakespeare’s works “teeter between their putative
16 I have borrowed the idea of “Alter/Native” from Aiyejina.
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civilizing effects and their alien potentiality” (Fisclin 7), by investing them with new
meanings, fashioned out as it were, from the template of Yoruba esoteric rituals,
metaphysics and aesthetic principles.
The adapters utilize the attributes and political significations of the Orisa for
this purpose. They combine Orisa attributes with those of historial political figures, to
connect their remote mythical/historical past with recent political situations. The
deployment of the attributes of the Orisa for a broader socio-political discourse stems
from the Yoruba consciousness about the convergence of forces and energies that the
Orisa pantheon represents. According to Soyinka, “when ritual archetypes acquire
new aesthetic characteristics, we may expect the re-adjustments of the moral
imperatives that brought them into existence, at the centre of [hu]man effort to reorder
the universe” (25). In this case, the adapters of the Orisa-Shakespeare in the above
group demonstrate a disposition towards Ogun, who exhibits two sides: the
benevolent/positive and unpredictable/destructive attributes.
Ogun, according to Sandra Barnes, “conventionally presents two images: one

is a terrifying spectre; a violent warrior, fully armed and laden with frightening
charms and medicines to kill his foes. The other is society’s ideal male; a leader
known for his sexual prowess, who nurtures, protects, and relentlessly pursues truth,
equity, and justice” (2). In these set of Orisa-Shakespeare, we encounter protagonists
that are invested with the Ogun attributes as described by Barnes. In Wesoo, Hamlet!,
Leto is a Western-educated Yoruba prince, a bold and courageous young man of any
woman’s dream; in uMabatha, Mabatha is a courageous and decorated soldier, while
Otaelo is both a distinguished warrior and lover in Otaelo. Through these characters,
the adaptions draw audience’s attention to the social menace of violence. As Barnes
writes, Ogun “embodies a profound and compelling observation of human nature”
especially in terms of its accommodating certain “strengths and weaknesses that are
universal to the human condition” (3). In spite of the fine qualities that the
protagonists of the Orisa-Shakespeare possess, like Ogun, they are also flawed.
In spite of Ogun’s mythological beginnings as the “saviour” of mankind after

Atunda’s rebellious act of smashing Orisa Nla (Wholeness) into pieces and risking
total annihilation (Soyinka 130-45; Adeeko 15-6), the deity has come to be identified
with bloodshed, violence and vicious/destructive temperament. In one popular ijala
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(the poetic genre devoted to the deity’s veneration), Ogun’s identification with
violence is explicitly emphasized:
Where does one meet him?
One meets him in the place of battle:
One meets him in the place of wrangling;
One meets him in the place where torrents of blood
Fill with longing, as a cup of water does the thirsty (Idowu 89).
Moreover, most Yoruba words associated with military activities, violence and terror
are either prefixed or suffixed with Ogun: as “ogun” is both the linguistic term for the
god and battle, “‘ounogun’ (weapons), ‘ologun’ (brave warrior), ‘olori ogun’ (general
of the army), ‘egbe omo ogun’ (army), ‘ohun elo ogun’ (arms), ‘opa ogun’ (war staff),
‘ija ogun’ (fight or battle), and ‘Balogun’ (war chief)” (Adu-Gyamfi 79). Of yet
another significance is the adaptations’ demonstration of the Yoruba’s recognition
that Ogun embodies creation and destruction which are “two aspects of a unity that
cannot be broken into opposing parts.” By drawing attention to the deity’s destructive
aspect however, the adaptions show clearly that Ogun is also “the recognition of
human frailty and a metaphoric representation that people create the means to destroy
themselves” (Barnes 17). Although what the adapters present is a gloomy picture of
unwholesome tragedy, their real intention is the need for change. The works stress
this alternative reality by drawing attention to the problems and ways in which they
impact on the lives of the people.
The adapters of the Orisa-Shakespeare in the “Diaspora” group also recognize

the significance of using the Orisa as a metaphor to understand the socio-political
situation in their new environment. Soyinka mentions the “capability of the drama (or
ritual) of the gods to travel as aesthetically and passionately as the gods themselves
have, across the Atlantic” (7).The Orisa-Shakespeare in this group juxtapose the Ogun
destructive reality of the “Home” Orisa-Shakespeare with the more useful
Esu/Orunmila principle of “dialectic self-examination” by which genuine change can
be effected through dialogue, understanding, self-criticism and purposeful leadership.
While Esu represents the principle of free choice and revolution, Orunmila represents
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wisdom that is distilled from chaos; harmony that is wrought from disjunction, and
prophecy that replaces uncertainty.
According to Toyin Falola, Esu holds the Yoruba cosmic system together in
partnership with Orunmila, the failure of which it would collapse. Across the Atlantic,
Esu has become part of the transatlantic history, of the tension between relocation and
history, “between the violence that led to the forced migrations of people and the long
healing process of reconciliation with living in strange lands that later became new
homelands”; Esu is the deity who assumes “the role of a signifier that is used to talk
about memory, loss, suffering, remembering, resistance, merging of ideas with time
and space, and of using the memory of the past to speak to the present” (3). In
continuation of that service, of using the past to “speak to the present”, the “Diaspora”
Orisa-Shakespeare use Esu, who plays more than a supporting role, along with
Shakespeare, to engage issues dealing with “the trauma of relocation, the experience
of creating a new identity, engagement with [despotic] power structures, and the
reinvention of the older ideas” (21). The two groups of Orisa-Shakespeare
demonstrate how adaptations take “a possibility and transmute it into new creative
outcomes”; the “possibility” being Shakespeare, “transmuted” in order for him
tofunction as part of a process of self-evaluation and criticism.
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Femi Osofisan’s Wesoo, Hamlet!
Myth, ritual, performance and the (un)becoming of history
“There’s matter in these sighs, these profound heaves/You must

translate/’Tis fit we understand them”
(Shakespeare, Hamlet, 5.1.1-3)
“E gba mii, kaa ma kan?”
[Oh dear, what is this?]
(Osofisan 10).
Femi Osofisan is arguably the most distinguished Nigerian playwright after Soyinka.
As Olu Obafemi observes, Osofisan is articulate in his use “of the subversive potential
of the theatre to shape his audience’s perceptive awareness of the social revolution
which they find inevitable in their country.” His dramatic techniques combine
“traditional [Yoruba] theatre heritage and oral arts of Soyinka, and European dramatic
models, most notably Brecht” (Obafemi 174-5). Osofisan approaches Yoruba myth
and aesthetic tradition with a revisionist agenda. According to Dan Izevbaye,
Osofisan uses Yoruba myth and ritual as a “form of narration which enables the
dramatist to present two similar incidents simultaneously: one mythical or historical
and therefore traditional, the other contemporary but idealized by the playwright’s
political desire” (Izevbaye 9). This last statement captures what he does in Wesoo,
Hamlet! (2012), his adaptation of Hamlet: how he uses Shakespeare and his own
ideology in the play, to address Nigeria’s socio-political concerns.
Set in Ilaje-Ijebu, Wesoo, Hamlet! tells the story of Leto, who returns from
England where he had gone to study, after receiving the news of his father, Oba
Sayedero’s death. On getting home, Leto learns that his mother, Olori, has married his
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father’s brother and new king, Ayibi. With the help of Iyamode who summons the
Ghost of his father from the bara (royal mausoleum), he learns how Ayibi killed his
father with a poison over the disagreement they had regarding the establishment of a
tobacco company in Ilaje-Ijebu, which the late king, Sayedero rejected because of his
concern about the danger that tobacco poses to the community. This story from
Sayedero’s ghost transforms Leto’s grief into rage, both towards his mother and
towards his uncle, the new king. Acting upon the request of his father’s ghost, he
decides to pursue vengeance. Leto’s obsession with vengeance discourages his
girlfriend, Tundun, who has waited patiently for his return in order for them to
consummate their love. In order to win his heart, Tundun decides to undertake some
serious risks.
At this juncture, Osofisan introduces both Hamlet and Ophelia from

Shakespeare’s story, who warn the young couple, separately at first and together later
on, to be mindful of how they approach the precarious situation at hand. They
specifically advise Leto and Tundun to learn from their own mistakes: the tragedy that
results from Hamlet’s unquenchable thirst for vengeance against his uncle, Claudius,
and Ophelia’s obsession for Hamlet which drives her mad and into subsequent
suicide. However, Leto and Tundun refuse to heed the advice of either their literary
antecedents or close friends, who urge caution. Events take a dramatic turn when
Tundun attempts to burn down the tobacco company but gets mortally injured in the
process; Olori also goes into the bara to seek Sayedero’s forgiveness after which she
poisons herself and dies. These tragedies impel Leto to confront his uncle, Ayibi, who
in turn orders Leto’s arrest and detention, although Iyamode and Asipa later beg for
his release by presenting Ayibi with two aroko, which contain messages that he could
not overlook. For his part, Ayibi too is visited by his Shakespearean counterpart,
Claudius who advises him to manipulate Leto by appointing him the Aremo (Crown
Prince) which would amount to exile since the Aremo is not supposed to live in Ilaje-
Ijebu. When this plan fails, Claudius also advises Ayibi to accept Leto’s proposed
mock-fight in the bara. A disguised Iyamode fights Leto instead of Ayibi, the fake
weapons that they are meant to use are replaced with real knives, and although Leto
sees through the deception, the play ends in essentially the same way as Hamlet, with
all the principal characters dead.
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The tobacco company which causes the conflict between Sayedero and Ayibi
can be read as one of the ways Osofisan invites us to viewthe play as a commentary
on contemporary Nigeria. Specifically, the continued violence in the Niger-Delta
regions where oil exploration by the multinational companies, Shell Oil and Chevron,
has destroyed many lives and properties. Sayedero argues that environmental
pollution and health hazard such as cancer that will result from tobacco far outweighs
its economic gains. In this sense, he decries the debilitating effects of slow violence
on his people.
Slow violence, as Rob Nixon writes, is a kind of violence “that is neither

spectacular nor instantaneous, but rather incremental and accretive, its calamitous
repercussions playing across a range of temporal scales” (2) resulting in, among other
tragic conditions, the people’s “displacement without moving caused by
environmental degradation, pollution and violence…in the name of development”
(19). Despite huge earnings and wealth being made from crude oil that is extracted
from the Niger-Delta, the people still live in pathetic conditions. The “slow violence”
of oil exploration in the Niger-Delta shows the “impact of corrosive transnational
forces, including petro-imperialism, and the mega-dam industry, out-sourced
toxicity…and the militarization of commerce, forces that disproportionately
jeopardize the livelihoods, prospects, and memory banks of the… poor” (5). In a
moment of rage, Leto clearly articulates the impact of the situation on the society:
Leto: So much poverty, so much unhappiness still everywhere!

Not even my father has been able to purge his chiefs of
corruption and greed. And as for our people, see, too many
superstitions hold us down.
Tundun: Yes, you’ve said all this before.
Leto: The signs of rot are already there, already spreading! Look
at the misguided life our youths live, the rise of mindless
violence on our streets, our gradual loss of faith in
ourselves…Something has to be done! But what? We must feed
from fresh waters…but how?
Tundun: I don’t know… (57)
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Wesoo, Hamlet!’s dramatization of the impact of the violence associated with oil
exploration in Nigeria through the tobacco company also underscores how
“transnationals in the extraction business…operate with maximum impunity” (117),
with the support of successive Nigerian leadership. Instead of wealth and good
condition of living, what obtains in the society are squalor, diseases and violence
which destroy the masses. While oil-spillage remains one aspect of the danger to the
lives of the people in the Niger-Delta, military action and violence constitutes the
other. For more than twenty years, the Movement for the Survival of the Ogoni People
(MOSOP) has been at the forefront of radical action against the Nigerian government.
Its leaders, notably Ken Saro-Wiwa and eight others, were executed by the military
government of Nigeria in 1995 (Pilkington “Shell pays out...”). Undeterred, other
radical groups, notably, the Movement for the emancipation of the Niger Delta
(MEND), has resuscitated the fight against the Nigerian government. In the last one
year, a break-away faction from MEND, the Niger Delta Avengers (NDA), has
destroyed several oil-pipelines and installations in the region,thereby compelling the
Nigerian government to use force against them (Holodny “Africa’s largest oil
producer...”).While these recent activities underscore the point raised in Wesoo,
Hamlet! about the senselessness of violence, they also raised the fact that societies that
are unable to resolve their problems without violence run the risk of war and collapse.
As it should be clear by now, Osofisan utilizes one of the key aspects of

Yoruba itan and adaptive strategy which is the blend of local and foreign elements in
order to address social concerns: in this case, the use of both Shakespeare and Yoruba
together. Although the title of the play, Wesoo, Hamlet!, shows that he pays homage
to Shakespeare (“Wesoo”, being an Ijebu-Yoruba word for “greetings”), he also
departs from Shakespeare’s play at the same time through the theme of his play. In
order to indigenize Shakespeare’s story and to show how he uses and differs from
Shakespeare at the same time, Osofisan employs Yoruba ritual and its aesthetics,
symbolized by the Masks, sent by Orunmila (the human vehicle of Ifa) to interact
with each other and the people.
Osofisan brings “Shakespeare” and the other Masks into the fictive world of
the play at the annual Dance of Ancestral Masks through expressive drumming and
music, as “a swirling mass of dancing Masks, of different shapes and colours, all in an
atmosphere of merriment” (8). Drums often convey paralinguistic information by
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acting as non-verbal language. Yoruba ‘talking drum’ (Iya Ilu/gangan), as Balme

rightly observes, “is capable of imitating the tonal patterns of the language and thus
communicates iconically as well as symbolically subtle and differentiated messages”
(215). When orin (music) as well as drumming accompanies masking in a ritual
evocative and/or performative situation in the way Wesoo, Hamlet! uses it, we are
presented with kinaesthetic signs and semiotic codes different from everyday
language, but nonetheless expressive in their own rights. The mask-characters are
ushered into the fictive world of the story with orin (music) and drumming as Yoruba
Masks which are summoned “to reunite with their human offspring” (8), while the
actions that follow the Messenger’s introduction quickly move forward as soon as the
Masks have been “assigned” their tasks. At the same, the Masks embody some form
of esoteric language that expresses the cosmic dimension of the Yoruba universe and
its aesthetics.
As a visual aspect of Yoruba performance, mask(ing) conveys the essential

symbol of ritual. Among the Ijebu from whom Osofisan (who is also Ijebu) draws
inspiration for the mask-characters, Agemo is a mask ritual. The highlight of the mask
performance is its ability to shrink in size at will, in a way that suggests that it
occupies “the transitional state between life and death, as a representation of the
visual suspension of death” (Balme 83). In his research on ritual performances in
preliterate cultures, Turner also identifies what he calls the “betwixt-and-between”
state, or what has come to be identified as his idea of liminality, a kind of “interim
space or period outside of the bounds of normal social practice and structures” (qtd in
Balme 77). In this specific case however, Wesoo, Hamlet! uses the Masks to show
that “dying and living are different stations on the track that connects the humans to
their ancestors” (Adeeko 14), and this task does not exclude Shakespeare.
Wesoo, Hamlet! clearly illustrates Shakespeare’s role both in the symbolism

and the expressive language of the mask in the play. In the prologue, the Messenger
(Narrator) mentions that Shakespeare is summoned by Orunmila to participate in a
play that he once wrote and has become famous, “to participate again in its recurrence
in Yorubaland” (8), not in his old self, but something much older, as a mask. Aside
from representing a significant aspect of Yoruba adaptation strategy, of merging the
foreign with the local, Wesoo, Hamlet!’s use of Shakespeare as a Yoruba mask, as a
semiotic code of ritual expression, recalls Garber’s opinion that “Shakespeare’s
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classic or transcendent status, and the increasing expansion of or dilation into the
realm of politics and cultures…is a return with a difference” (32). The language that
the play makes the masks speak, represents some part of the “difference” even as it
constitutes an aspect of the play’s ritual imagination, as much as it brings a world that
once appeared remote from contemporary experience with all its fixed rules for moral
and social conduct closer to its new reception.
Although “Shakespeare” is addressed by the Messenger (as a mask) he does

not speak. We do not see him again after this introduction except by implication
through his characters: Hamlet, Ophelia and Claudius. The introduction of
“Shakespeare” works on at least three levels as a narrative strategy: first, it links
Wesoo, Hamlet! explicitly to Hamlet as the Messenger already informs us “The story
that you [Shakespeare] once put into a play that has become famous” (8), even though
we come to understand that the story is the same as Hamlet but the plot is not; second,
it shows repetition in terms of the same story in different spatial and temporal reality;
and third, it shows how itan is used to engage rupture in terms of the new play’s
concern with social dislocation, which is a central concern in Yoruba drama/theatre as
an art form, “concern[ed] with the achievement of socio-cosmic harmony” (Obafemi
17), as much as it is that of the Orisa-Shakespeare in their abiding concern with social
balance and peace in a changing world.
As Edde Iji contends, the creation of characters in this way stresses “the
potentialities of transforming myths to realities, of the reincarnation of mythology to
materiality” (437), and the effectiveness of using the gods to address human affairs.
The appearance of the Masks also suggests the interaction between the Orisa and
human beings and the supposed deification of Shakespeare including his fictive
characters as orisa within the universe of the play. Moreover, because Osofisan
derives his creative impetus from “the regenerative dynamics of myths” (439), the
adaptation subscribes to his vision of using myths to provide new meanings to old
tales, in order for them “to function in a social rather than religious manner as a form
of language, for social communication rather than ritual communion” (Izevbaye 10),
even as they are used to address his society’s concerns.
The “old tales” here refers to two things. Firstly, it refers to Shakespeare’s
story and characters, namely, Hamlet, Ophelia and Claudius. In this case, we have a
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sense that Hamlet “provides a resonant cultural echo [of character and philosophical
ideas] that seems to pre-exist any single experience of the play, and at the same time
to be disseminated from it” (Garber 466). Secondly, it refers to the myth regarding the
origin of Yoruba mask which both the bara (royal mausoleum) and, a character in the
play, Iyamode, represent. According to the story, when the third monarch of the
ancient Oyo/Yoruba Empire, Alaafin Sango, attempted to reinter the remains of his
grandfather, Oranyan, he failed because Oranyan did not die, but turned into a stone
obelisk, which still stands in Ile Ife today. Sango thus devised another means of
honouring Oranyan. At a special ceremony, Oranyan’s re-incarnated spirit costumed
as “masquerade” (then called ‘baba’ or father) was brought to the outskirts of Oyo
where the bara was set up for his worship. Iyamode, the old woman of the palace,
was placed in charge of the mystery. Sango looked upon this woman with reverence
and prostrated before her each time he came to worship his “father’s” spirit (Adedeji
255).17 In Wesoo, Hamlet!, Osofisan recalls that aspect of Yoruba mythology:
Iyamode is the one who summons the Masks from the bara where they all emerge. At
Leto’s return to Ilaje-Ijebu, Hamlet and Ophelia tell him to meet with his father and
that only Iyamode can facilitate the meeting:
Hamlet: In the bara, the royal burial house, where he lies with
the other kings of the past. That’s where he’ll meet you.
Leto: But---the bara! It’s forbidden to go there.
Ophelia: Not if Iyamode allows it. As the keeper of the shrine,

she alone can take you there. (21)
Osofisan also uses characterization to dramatize the fluidity of time that is

characteristic of Yoruba poetics and philosophy. As discussed in the previous chapter,
Ifa and itan are not typically preoccupied with the chronological sense of time: time is
less important than the social relevance of the itan. In the adaptation, Osofisan links
the sense of mythical time with the historical. He demonstrates this linkage through a
sense of time that is dislocated through mythical characters (Masks) and another sense
of time that is definite and historical through specificity of time to which he hopes his
17 Aside from the fact that this particular event accounts for the origin of Egungun/ancestral worship in
Yorubaland, the act became entrenched in Yoruba rituals not so much because of the symbolic value that the effigy
embodies, but more so because of Sango’s veneration of it. This is because, since it is recognized in Yoruba
tradition that the king must not genuflect for anyone/anything, Sango’s prostration publicly conferred on the
Egungun, a certain authority and sacredness that has remained today.
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play could be related to. He states categorically in the “Note to the Director” that the
play takes place in Yorubaland, Nigeria in the last half of the 20th century, with
particular reference to the early 1950s (Osofisan vi). Secondly, the setting in Ijebu is
strategic because the subjugation of what later became known as Nigeria by the
British colonial government, began with Ijebu, whose territories had never been
invaded. The fall of Ijebu coincided with the spate of civil wars among the Yoruba
tribes and the collapse of the Yoruba Empire. The defeat of Ijebu made it clear that
the other Yoruba territories were soon to experience a similar fate. Osofisan recalls
the colonial encounter, both in his choice of setting and by “reviving” Shakespeare
and his characters in his own adaptation.
Osofisan’s references to the 1950s also suggests that Wesoo, Hamlet!

dramatizes the violence associated with Yoruba politics in the Western region of
Nigeria that dated back to a decade earlier. At the centre of the conflict were two
prominent Yoruba politicians: Chief Obafemi Awolowo and his lieutenant, Chief
Ladoke Akintola. The conflict would have a far-reaching effect on both the Western
region and the country, degenerating into violence, arson and bloodbath. Osofisan’s
Sayedero represents Awolowo who was preferred by the Yoruba for his charisma and
exemplary leadership qualities, his political party’s commitment to and success in
providing the people with social amenities which ensured the far greater development
of the region compared to other parts of the country. Ayibi represents Akintola who
was tacitly supported by the Hausa/Fulani led government of Nigeria, while Awolowo
languished in prison, the consequence of which was the escalation of violence that
engulfed the Western region and Yorubaland (Abegunrin 334-52; Afolayan 297-315),
and which has continued to characterize not only Yoruba but also Nigerian politics.
In a general sense, Wesoo, Hamlet! dramatizes the confrontation between

“conscienceless power” represented by Ayibi, and “powerless conscience”
represented by Leto. Ayibi, driven by greed and virulent pride, believes that people
who challenge his thoughts and plans are “mere agitators, whom the Police can deal
with if they dare raise their voice!” (27); while Leto driven by idealism, “to discover
new tributaries, new outlets of renewal,” dream of creating a “new” society free from
the rot and decay of corruption (57). With these two characters, the play dramatizes
the eternal confrontation between agents of corruption and those of change; or more
specifically, those who see change as corruption and those who see it as renewal of
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some sort in the society; however, the play uses Shakespeare to address the need to be
cautious, as Hamlet tells Leto that “the future does not have to be built on the crimes
of the past” (49), although he also recognized the need for social change.
Because Wesoo, Hamlet! is essentially the tragedy of Leto, I will focus

attention on this character in order to address the socio-cultural relevance of the play.
Because of the sporadic deaths which occur at the end of the play, caused mainly by
Leto’s action, I will look at the epistemic value of opolo pipe and pele in regard to his
action and how it affects other characters in the play. In addition, a key cultural
knowledge is emphasized here regarding Yoruba understanding about the repetitive
cycle of events, considered to be the failure of an individual to apply opolo pipe
(discerning thought) to tackle an issue. In such a circumstance, Yoruba understanding
is that a problem is not really a problem, until it keeps happening over and again. “Ina
esisi kii jo’ni lee meji” (One does not fall on the same spot twice), readily applies in
such a circumstance where failure/tragedy of the past re-occurs over and again. Thus
when the Messenger, in the prologue, informs us that Orunmila has sent
“Shakespeare” and the other Masks to prevent a situation “brewing somewhere in
Yorubaland, which echoes another one of many centuries ago” (8), it is to utilize one
major functional kernel of itan, which is its use of the past to address the present. The
essence is however located in the psycho-social imperative of opolo pipe which the
people are expected to use in order to claim the thematic relevance of itan.
In this play, Leto fails in this regard especially when we also consider that he
has Hamlet and Ophelia who represent that past to learn from. As I mentioned in the
previous chapter while developing the Yoruba--Shakespeare theory, Ifa usually tells
itan of past people and situations for those in the present to learn so that they can
effectively tackle their own problems. Shakespeare’s characters, Hamlet and Ophelia,
represent that past Leto should have learnt from. At their first meeting with him,
Hamlet and Ophelia explain why they have returned from the past:
Leto: You said Orunmila sent you?
Ophelia: Yes. But don’t ask us why, we’ve forgotten.
Hamlet: Just as it was planned that we should.
Ophelia: All we know is that we can help you, if you let us.
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Leto: I see. What was it you said again?
Hamlet: I said, it wounds, doesn’t it? To return like that, with

the intention of mourning your father. But only to discover that
your mother has already married again!
Leto: I don’t see how that is a business of yours.
Hamlet: But it is. Remember, we’ve gone through it all, before

you (Leto turns away). At first, it’s shock and disbelief that you
feel. Then anger. And finally, a terrible sense of loss. (19-20)
Instead of taking advantage of his meeting with these two characters from the past,
Leto concentrates on his task. His decision however proves fatal to him and people
around him, especially his girlfriend, Tundun.
Leto reacts in contrast to his mother, Olori who demonstrates how to use opolo
pipe by critically assessing situation and learning from other people’s experience
before acting. Although in some ways Olori is like Gertrude of Shakespeare’s Hamlet,
she is also markedly different in this regard. She tells Leto how Sayedero doted on her
to the extent that she failed to realize that nothing lasts forever. She tells Leto about
his father’s other wives, who had been “more calculating, less reckless and less
foolish” and had saved some money for such an occasion as their husband’s sudden
demise. When Sayedero’s relatives and other wives disrespect her after his death, she
realizes that “not only does a dead man have no friends, but his widow(s) too
inherit(s) nothing but a battle with parasites” (39), without any support.
However, having realized her mistake after her husband’s death she promptly
grabs the opportunity when Ayibi offers to marry her, if only “to have a shelter on
[her] head, to keep [her] clothes on her back and to give [Leto] a home” (40). Olori
reckons that as long as she remains the queen of Ilaje-Ijebu, she can move on with her
life and position herself properly in order to save the throne for her son. She
understands that even though Sayedero demonstrated inurere (goodwill) and otito
(truth), he failed to make use of opolo pipe that is needed to fully utilize the other
essential principles of living. She warns Leto not to behave like his father, Sayedero,
who trusted his brother, Ayibi, so much that he never prepared in advance for betrayal
and deceit. As Sayedero’s ghost also tells Leto when they meet in the bara, “Hard to
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believe…a man I lavished my love and affection on! Who knew all my secrets, shared
my table, and entered my bedroom at any time of day or night! How could I have
known he would betray me?” (26). It is apparent from this statement that Sayedero
learns rather too late that there is a thin line between love and hate.
Leto’s inability to use opolo pipe to confront the precarious situation that he
meets on his return to Ilaje-Ijebu must be viewed from the “Pele” psyche point of
view. In this specific case, the “Pele ko ma baa ku” (Be careful or be of good conduct,
so that you do not die suddenly or get hurt or harmed) applies to Leto who dies,
because he failed to weigh the risk involved in his decision to avenge his father’s
death, against his own ability to successfully accomplish the task. Instead of heeding
his mother, Olori’s advice to, “be careful about the politics here” (41), that is, in Ilaje-
Ijebu, he blames her for not observing the “Opo” rite, the customary period of
mourning after the death of a woman’s husband, before getting married to Ayibi.
Although Olori’s marriage to Ayibi does not contravene “Opo-sisu” (the custom of
leviration) which allows the younger brother of a deceased to marry his widow, the
circumstance of Sayedero’s death complicates the marriage, which means that if
“Opo-sisu” allows Ayibi to marry Olori, there still remains the sacrilege and terrible
violation of sacred rites and institution that Ayibi’s crime constitutes.
Noticing that Leto’s rage has blinded him to their advice, Hamlet and Ophelia
try again to warn him:
Hamlet: Don’t break yet, Leto. You’re going to need all your
courage soon.
Leto: What do you mean?
Ophelia: The worst is still to come. You are going to need a lot
of compassion
Leto: Compassion?
Hamlet: Or anger. Whichever way you choose to play it. But

your life will not be the same again after this. (21)
Leto’s refusal to listen to Hamlet and Ophelia’s advice also has its own cultural
significance although the two Shakespearean characters mean well. In a Yoruba
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community, family pride sometimes takes precedence over personal pride and/or
even determines it. Leto’s failure to address the circumstance of his father’s death
and the seeming betrayal and the “shame” brought on his father (family) name by his
mother’s marriage to the suspected murderer would be regarded as Leto’s abject
failure. “Iku ya ju esin” (Death is more honourable than disgrace) appies to Leto in
this circumstance, and it could be interpreted in two ways: that Sayedero’s death is
not actually as tragic as the shame of giving birth to a son who cannot stand up for
him; or that in spite of everything, Leto is after all a poor image of his father. Hence,
although Hamlet wants to help, Leto will not listen to him because of the socio-
cultural attitude surrounding the situation.
Leto’s action should also be viewed in light of “Pele ko ma baa ko ba ara

yoku” (Be careful so that you may not cause problem to others) in the way he
literally drags Tundun into his own tragic self-immolation. Out of desperation, he
tells her “Can you wait? Is your commitment strong enough?”, while struggling to
remove “the chains around [my] hands” (57-9), Tundun swears to stand by him,
“Only say you’re still mine, and I’ll get you out of these chains, whatever it takes! I
swear it to you!” (61). Inadvertently, Leto drags Tundun into the above “Pele”
condition.
Tundun commits a similar error to Leto’s by not learning from her own
father’s counsel and Ophelia’s mistake. Although Tundun recalls a particular itan
that her father told her about how some trees survive unfriendly season and weather
by learning to bend to the force of the wind, she thinks her own resolve is stronger.
She tells Ophelia, “I cannot be like my father, you see. I cannot bend like the reeds to
survive” (44). When Ophelia advises her against ruining herself because of her love
for Leto, Tundun misinterprets this message. She believes that Leto’s reluctance to
see her after his return to Ilaje-Ijebu is because of his mother’s perceived infidelity.
She wants to prove to him that she can be trusted. She also wants to be a part of his
revenge mission. But, Ophelia considers Tundun’s stand differently, with experience
as her own guiding principle. She tells Tundun that “men have no kindness, they use
us and dump us. But without them, we’ll shrivel, and die” (44); in dealing with men,
opolo pipe is necessary to strike a balance between devotion and sheer stupidity.
When Ophelia asks, “You love Leto that much?” Tundun responds, “I can’t help it”
(44). Ophelia, feeling disappointed that Tundun does not want to learn from her own
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failure, tells her, “You’re doomed, my friend. Like me” (44). Tundun’s failure (or is
it refusal?) to grasp the significance of either Ophelia’s concerns or her father’s
metaphors ultimately has grave consequences; in choosing feelings over wisdom,
Tundun puts herself in harm’s way.
From the foregoing, the advice given to both Leto and Tundun by Hamlet,
Ophelia and Olori to learn from their own experience, constitutes the Ifa notion of
“Ogbon die, were die” (Much wisdom, little foolishness). When Ifa insists that
“Ogbon lo so ‘le aye ro” that is, wisdom is the anchor which holds the world in place,
the concern is for people to be mindful of their actions and approach things sensibly.
This epistemological imperative is also captured in a Yoruba proverb, “Af’ogbon
ologbon sogbon ni kii je ka pe agba ni were” that is, learning from other people’s
mistake, is a sign of maturity and wisdom; it stresses the social value of taking
advantage of other people’s experience and acting on them. In their failure to learn
from other people’s experience and use opolo pipe to handle their problems, both Leto
and Tundun show a serious lack in their character. This lack disqualifies them from
being considered to be omoluabi.
Beyond exploring opolo pipe through Leto’s personal tragedy however,

Wesoo, Hamlet! demonstrates the capacity of the Orisa-Shakespeare to engage society
rather than challenge Shakespeare’s cultural capital. To this end, Leto’s tragedy can
be viewed from at least three different perspectives: the destructive potential of
violence; how the rich take advantage of the poor in the society; and the colonial
factor in Yoruba/Nigerian tragedy respectively. Wesoo, Hamlet! articulates its
condemnation of violence in many instances. In the scene where Asipa and Iyamode
meet with Ayibi to plead on Leto’s behalf, Asipa tells Ayibi, “I’ve been to war
Kabiyesi. It’s not a pleasant experience at all [even] to own a gun” (63). Asipa also
wonders, using an apt proverb, that “if we destroy a fowl for crowing in daylight,
what will we do to the dog that barks in the moonlight” (65), which underlines the
undesirability of violence to address issues in the society. Elsewhere in the play, the
Shakespeare characters are also used to underline the thematic concern regarding
violence. Hamlet urges Leto to reconsider his mission to avenge his father and extend
the streak of bloodshed in the process:
Hamlet: History doesn’t have to follow the same pattern.
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Leto: You are asking me to abandon my father then?
Hamlet: No. He can also be rescued by your generosity.
Leto: But what are you saying! That I should turn my back on
his murder?
Hamlet: I mean that restitution can come in other forms than

that of vengeance….if there is a genuine repentance. (49)
In another scene, Hamlet and Ophelia confront Claudius who has been supporting
Ayibi in creating tension and disorder in Ilaje-Ijebu. In this scene, the play highlights
the need to change the course of history that has favoured violence and Shakespeare’s
role in the task of renewal:
Ophelia: I can’t believe this! How vile! You mean, all these
centuries, death has not changed you a bit!
Hamlet: What will you say, when we get back? How will you
explain to Orunmila?
Claudius: He knows. He must know the anguish of living in

perpetual blemish among the ancestors.
Ophelia: And that’s why he gave us this chance to come back,

isn’t it? To allow us to redeem ourselves. But not by sowing
further discord among our successors.
Hamlet: What shall we do? You know Orunmila will not

intervene.
Ophelia: I’ve tried my best, I know. If only men would not

insist on repeating our errors! (84)
The interaction between the Shakespearean characters who are “sent” by Orunmila
(Ifa) to intervene and prevent the human repetitive cycle of violence that is depicted in
the adaptation, represents aspects of Yoruba dramaturgy (especially itan) that
dislocates timeframe but emphasizes social relevance.
Osofisan recognizes Ifa’s significant role in society hence he adopts the

Esu/Orunmila motif in place of the Ogun ideal which favours violent change.
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Although Osofisan also recognizes how in Yoruba mythology, Ogun and his mythic
drama “are placed at the centre of primordial expression of tragedy”; although Ogun
rescued the Yoruba universe from perpetual chaos caused by Atunda’s daring act, the
same Ogun destroys friends and foe alike under the influence of alcohol. With this
adaptation, Osofisan argues that the Ogun ideal has lost its appeal and value in
contemporary socio-political situation, “Isn’t there in fact, in that story of Ogun’s
final misadventure in Ire, a signal omen for us, of the potential danger of the
annihilation of an entire nation through the tyrant’s hubris?” (Osofisan 2001:129),
whereas for society’s continued safety and existence, there is the need for an
alternative tradition.
Osofisan finds that alternative tradition in the Esu/Orunmila combination

which he adopts. He maintains that, “there is always a need to subject all categories
and all relationships to the flame of constant questioning, constant revision; most
especially the hierarchies of power, which are the most susceptible to sclerosis.
Without such continual rituals of dissent, society will die in the embrace of terror”
(141-2). In adopting the relationship between Esu and Orunmila, Osofisan emphasizes
self-criticism and reflection that are useful for social engineering.
Because tragedy among the Yoruba is communal, Osofisan also subscribes to

collective heroism by which people in a society come together to tackle their
problems collectively instead of leaving them to the lone-hero, Leto as its best
example in Wesoo, Hamlet! This is exactly what Hamlet also tells Leto that, “The
world does not stand still. Nor can you…” (49). Osofisan considers the lone-hero as a
representation of “the sacrificial agent in society’s recurrent ritual of regeneration”
represented in Yoruba mythology by Ogun, as well as his dialectics regarding the use
of violence to effect change in human society. He recognizes that, although when a
society is thrown into crisis that is caused by an individual such as what Ayibi has
done by killing a king who represents the soul of the community, a set of sacrifice
either as symbolic ritual or act of cleansing is required to rectify the error. However,
he argues that when power is vested in an individual, such an individual can become
intoxicated and corrupted so much that s/he could “spread the poison of violence and
corruption in the ventricles of public life” (129). In the play, Leto shows the tendency
to become as tyrannical and brutal as Ayibi. Ii is glaring in this conversation between
him and Hamlet:
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Hamlet: Will you kill [Ayibi] now?
Leto: Hamlet, there’s no doubt any more, he’s the murderer!
Hamlet: You will kill him?
Leto: I must. Will you help me?
Hamlet: Me!
Leto: I’ve never killed before.
Hamlet: But must you?
Leto: My father---
Hamlet: Is dead. The obligations he’s demanding, should they

be stronger than those you owe the living?
Leto: That was your problem, wasn’t it? Your cowardice?
Hamlet: Conscience sometimes looks like cowardice
Leto: You’re trying to weaken my will, you my friend? (48-9)
Osofisan shows that in encouraging the lone-hero, society stands the risk of producing
tyrants who would eventually destroy it.
In dramatizing Leto’s tragedy, Wesoo, Hamlet! also shows how the rich
destroy the poor in the society. Tundun falls in love with Leto despite the difference
in their social status. As she recounts, “They said we’re oil and water, and can never
mix… But I did not listen. Because my heart was beating wildly every time I saw you.
Fluttering foolishly like a butterfly every time I heard your voice, felt your touch.
Poor me, all my fences fell down…” (56). Instead of giving her love, Leto wants her
to join his crusade for vengeance which eventually becomes an enormous task for her.
Although Tundun realizes the danger surrounding her relationship with Leto, she
chooses to ignore it because of her emotional state of mind, as she confesses “It was
you who came fishing in the muddy pond where I sat like a toad among my people,
pulled me into strange waters, and gave me fins. Since that moment my life has been
like a dream” (58), Ophelia do understands the danger in such a relationship having
gone through similar experience in the past. She tells Leto:
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Ophelia: Have you stopped to consider that she too, has her
own right to happiness?
Leto: Happiness!
Ophelia: Plus the right to take it wherever she finds it? (20)
Lastly, Wesoo, Hamlet! also dramatizes the role being played by the West in the
tragedy occurring in Nigeria and in most postcolonial nations. This is one of the value
of the Orisa-Shakespeare in terms of engaging both individuals and systems which
cause “society’s disequilibrium and mediating between the forces of attrition and life”
(Awodiya 145).The tobacco company which causes the conflict between Sayedero
and Ayibi is a good example in this regard.
Clearly, Wesoo, Hamlet! does not just dramatize the continued involvement of
the West in the impoverishment of former colonies, it also alludes to the role
Shakespeare plays in this situation. Shakespeare’s role in the violence in Nigeria and
other African nations is dramatized through the interaction between Ayibi and
Claudius in the play. Claudius is Ayibi’s advisor. He provides Ayibi with the plans to
deal with Leto’s troubles, that instead of punishing Leto and making a hero out of him,
Ayibi should make it appear that he intends to “re-channel his youthful energy to some
useful work” (67). In this case, he should “Grant [Leto] amnesty, and watch everybody
hail you for your kindness, your magnanimity. Then you announce that, out of love for
his mother and your departed brother, you pronounce him your Aremo, and crown
him. Then you send him away!” (69). Claudius also suggests to Ayibi the best ways to
ensure continued flow of profit from the tobacco company that he established in Ilaje-
Ijebu after Sayedero’s death. The following conversation between Ayibi and Claudius
stresses how Shakespeare collaborates in the violence and underdevelopment of
former colonies and my earlier argument that the rich often destroy the poor:
Oba Ayibi: Oh of course! I forget it was under you that those

adventurers came here, tricked our people, and negotiated the
treaties that turned us into slaves in our own homeland.
Claudius: Are you complaining? The tobacco company that’s

keeping your cheeks fat and gleaming, Kabiyesi, what
difference is there between that, and the slave ships we used to
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send here? We take what we have to take, even if some people

call that exploitation. And we pay those among you willing to
co-operate!
Oba Ayibi: Oh come, you know it’s different now! Now we

make these sacrifices for progress!
Claudius: Sacrifices! Is that what you call your bank account in

Switzerland! Those slave dealers of old, what else do you think
they called the mirrors and beads and guns and whisky that we
brought them? Yes, those second-hand shirts and waistcoats?
Were they not items of civilisation”, just like your tobacco
factory!
Oba Ayibi: Be cynical if you wish.
Claudius: Not in the strategies of survival. In that, we are

brothers. This Aremo solution was all invented by your
predecessors, don’t forget, to get rid of impatient sons!
Oba Ayibi: Well, I am glad they did. (69-70)
Apparently, Osofisan does not indict only Shakespeare (and former colonialists) in the
tragedy and violence being experienced in former colonies, he also underlines how
leaders of these poor countries collaborate with external forces to undermine their
own people. While recent events underscore the point raised in Wesoo, Hamlet! about
the senselessness of violence, they also underline the fact that societies that are unable
to resolve their problems without resorting to violence run the risk of war and
collapse.
In this section of the thesis, I examined Wesoo, Hamlet! as a commentary on

the continued violence in Nigeria’s socio-political life which dates back to more than
a century ago. I emphasized how the play uses the combination of myth (represented
by the masks) and history (represented by the conflict over the tobacco company
which recalls the continued violence over oil-spillage and neglect in the Niger-Delta
region of Nigeria) to dramatize its society’s “repetitive cycle of violence” and to call
for an alternative perception. The masks are particularly useful to link the play’s
fictive characters and characters from Shakespeare’s Hamlet that it adapts. I also
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emphasized how the play suggests that Shakespeare is himself one of the masks by
which it aims to foreground the fact of using Shakespeare to create something new.
As Awodiya observes, Osofisan’s deployment of myth and history through the masks
is to show how “characters can be made to depict life as a dialectical process, the
eruption of the real into the fictive realm [and] as the symbols of the possibility of
progressive change” (19), in the nature of the Orisa-Shakespeare which addresses its
society’s concerns.
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Ahmed Yerima’s Otaelo
Throes of symbolic presences and metaphoric absences
“O, who hath done this deed?/Nobody; I myself”
(Shakespeare, Othello, 5.2.124-5).
“Onye ajulu ana ju onwe ya?”
[When others reject or abandon you, do you also abandon yourself?]
--- Igbo proverb ---
This section of the thesis does two things: 1) examines how Otaelo dramatizes the
violence associated with the Osu cultural practice in Igboland of south-east Nigeria,
in relation to the belief in chi/ori versus human action that falls under the scope of
omoluabi; 2) examines the play’s political relevance to the ongoing agitation for the
“Republic of Biafra” by the Igbo people in Nigeria. Although they are based in the
south-eastern parts, the Igbos’ original home is located on both the banks of Orimili
called the “great river” and the River Niger, from which Nigeria got her name. They
are one of the three largest ethnic groups in Nigeria (the other two being the Yoruba
and Hausa/Fulani).
Otaelo draws materials from history and condemns what the Igbo call Osu.
Although Yerimauses historical materials judging from the account of the origin of
the Osu caste system at the centre of the itan that his play condemns, he entered the
same history from the perspective of the brutalized and the marginalized. Yerima
explains that, “The relationship between history and drama is one in which the
playwright attempts through his play to offer explanation to a historical event even
while forcing on the historical event her/his thematic preoccupation… history is an
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integral part of the soul of the community” (Yerima 2003:61). In addition to serving
as a direct critique of the ongoing Osu system, the play can be read retroactively as
offering a powerful warning against the Igbo people’s present renewed agitation for
the “Republic of Biafra” in Nigeria.
Biafra is the secessionist state created by the leadership of the Igbo people as a
consequence of the 1966 military coups that claimed the lives of over three million
Igbo people. Although separationist agitation in Nigeria dated back to 1914, Biafra is
unique because it was the first major threat to the country’s existence (Ademoyega
1988; Tamuno 563-84).While there have been several separatist groups agitating for
Biafra in the past, this present agitation is being powerfully pushed by members of the
Igbo diaspora from outside of the country. This renewed call echoes the history of
colonialism, but, rather than Igbo people at home being colonized by foreigners, it is
their own people, the “the been-tos” and foreigners that are aspiring to do the job.18
Because the agitation for the resuscitation of Biafra already marred by violence (since
the last ten years more than two thousand Igbo prostesters have been killed by the
police) is hinged on the Igbos’ perceived marginalization from mainstram politics in
Nigeria--a central issue in the Osu that they also practice--Otaelo may also be
considered Yerima’s own way of warning contemporary Igbos of horrendous violence
that is likely to result from their demand. In the following paragraphs, I will introduce
the Osu cultural system, and then go ahead to examine how Otaelo dramatizes the
violence and brutality associated with the practice in relation to the perception that it
is determined by chi/ori (fate/destiny) in relation to human action that falls under
omoluabi.
The Osu cultural practice in Igboland, similar to the caste system in India, is a
system of social stratification that is sanctioned by age-long tradition. It can be
described as a precolonial cultural system of domination and oppression. Osu started
as a form of religious devotion long before British colonization and survives today
under several names, including Adu-Ebo in Nzam in Onitsha; in the Nsukka area it is
referred to as Oruma, while in Agwu area, it is called Nwani or Ohualusi (Dike 2). At
its earliest beginning, anyone could dedicate themselves as osu regardless of gender
18
“Been-tos” is a term which describes Igbo people who have travelled abroad; a popular social perception is for
these people to view those at home and who have not travelled abroad as “backward” while, in some cases, those
at home actually see the former as “westernized” even if not “more enlightened” than they are; hence, it is easy for
the former to manipulate the latter.
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or clan/tribal affiliation within the larger Igbo society.19 By dedicating herself or

himself to serve the gods of the land, the individual gained respect and certain social
privileges, such as the status of a “priest” or “saint”.
However, these privileges, including immunity from prosecution or torture of

any kind, exemption from tax payment and all forms of communal labour, came at a
price: having become an osu, such an individual was automatically ostracised from
the rest of the society. An osu no longer has friends, and can only marry other osu;
they lived in isolation, except within their own very small and limited class. In spite
of this cost, the protection and benefits accorded to the osu made it an attractive
prospect to criminals, and especially perpetrators of those crimes that were regarded
as the most heinous; namely, murder and incest. The abuse worked both ways: just as
criminals were eager to afford themselves of protection from prosecution, Igbo
society at large came to regard Osu as a means of purging criminal elements and
remaining peaceful. Over time, Osu began to lose its value and even became
dangerous and loathed because some began to take advantage of the gains it offered
them rather than the motivation to serve the religious needs of the society (Idika 23-
4). There were many ways of becoming an osu, which included devotion by choice,
and the picking of Nzu leaves heaped in front of a shrine in order to avoid molestation
or death after committing a grievous crime, among several others.
Yerima chose as the subject for Otaelothe form of “Osu becoming” in which a
person can become an osu by crossing the inner sanctuary of a shrine as the subject
for Otaelo. He then links it with the social reality of the Osu origin that is already
marred by degeneration and abuse, and then uses Shakespeare (Othello) as a canvas to
paint the violence that the Osu practice represents. In the back story to the play, the
central character, Otaelo, becomes an osu when his mother runs into the shrine of the
earth-god, Ala, for protection, after killing her husband in self-defence. In the first
instance, she has committed murder, which is a crime punishable by death. Secondly,
it is forbidden for a pregnant woman to enter into the shrine and/or the inner sanctuary
of Ala under any circumstance. She is executed for the first crime after giving birth to
Otaelo, who also becomes an osu on account of his mother’s second crime. As it is
apparent, while criminals decided to become osu in order to escape punishment for
19 I use osu to refer to the individual, andOsu for the socio-cultural practice.
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their crime in the early beginning of the Osu practice, Yerima’s adaptation focuses on
Otaelo, who is criminalized by the society with the tacit support of Ala, for an offence
that he did not commit.
Although Yerima sets Otaelo in Igboland the Yoruba culture thoroughly

permeates his outlook and craft, which makes it possible to examine the play as an
Orisa-Shakespeare. Yerima admits that he learnt playwriting from Soyinka, a Yoruba
man and, most of his (over forty) plays are set in Yoruba land, or address Yoruba
issues, and/or utilise Yoruba culture and ritual. Yerima also acknowledges the
profound influence of two other Yoruba teachers on his works: Prof Oyin Ogunba and
Prof Oloruntimehin; at the time he wrote Otaelo in 2002, he was the Artistic Director
of the National Troupe of Nigeria, founded originally by Hubert Ogunde, the doyen of
Nigerian theatre and a Yoruba man.
The clear influence of Yoruba culture on Otaelo is underlined by Yerima’s use

of proverbs, some of which are of Yoruba origin. For examples, when a character in
the play, Ekekwe, says, “When a clay effigy wants to shame itself, it demands to be
put in the rain” and another character Obidigbo says “like a snail and its shell, we
shall be where he is tonight” (17), the statements are both direct translations of the
Yoruba proverbs, “Sigidi fe sere ete, o ni ki won gbe ohun lodo lo we” and “Bi’igbin
fa, ikarahun a te le”. Elsewhere when both characters also say, “If I promised that my
masquerade will dance and then discover the floor is thorny it is no crime to change
my mind” and “you leave leprous sickness and discuss pimples” (26), the statements
are also modifications of the Yoruba proverbs, “Ta ba l’eegun eni ma jo bi o de tun jo
mo, akii mu ni si” and “E fi etee le, e npa lapalapa.” Moreover, even though the Igbo
are a different tribal group from the Yoruba, their worldviews are quite similar.
Because Yerima identifies with the Yoruba epistemic outlook, Otaelo contains
explicit references to Yoruba cultural practice, hence the play can be interpreted
through the lens of the Yoruba culture as an Orisa-Shakespeare that addresses its own
realities.
Although Yerima introduces many cultural elements into Otaelo, the story is
still familiar as Shakespeare’s Othello. Like the real Igbo society, the setting of the
play, Umuagu, boasts of a closely-knit family structure; it’s also an environment of
taboos, social ethics and conventions. Desdemona’s handkerchief is also replaced
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with a set of waistline beads, jigida, which is crucial to the tragedy that the play
dramatizes. These cultural elements reflect the play’s ritual environment---and the
playwright’s ritual imagination--- which is achieved through the merging of both the
Igbo and Yoruba worldviews, including cosmology, naming and its spiritual/social
implication, symbolism of object and place, archetypal characterization and language.
These are elements which explicitly make it possible to read the play as an Orisa-
Shakespeare.
Yerima openly acknowledges the role of Shakespeare in his attempt to address

the failings in his society. In the “Author’s Note” to the play, Yerima describes his
adaptation as the fulfilment of a dream, an obsession with “the genius called William
Shakespeare”; that he has re-interpreted Shakespeare’s play, Othello, to his “own
language, cultural reality, and human, social, and religious sensibility” (6). Elsewhere,
Yerima also mentions how he has used Shakespeare “to make something new”:
My adaptation of William Shakespeare’s Othello, which I titled

Otaelo is based only on Shakespeare’s theme of jealousy and
intrigue. The adaptation is based on the Igbo osu tradition, and
the characters, names change, the situation changes, the
sensibilities change, but the ‘jigida’ which is the new symbol of
love which represents the handkerchief of Shakespeare’s
original play still serves as the destructive metaphor in the
adaption. (Yerima 2003:124)
In my analysis, I will explore the cultural and political significance of those “changing
situations and sensibilities,” first by providing a concise explanation of Igbo cultural
concepts and their Yoruba equivalents where necessary, and then using specific
examples from the play to develop the arguments.
In Yerima’s adaptation, Otaelo returns from battle as a hero into his village,
Umuagu, having saved the life of the paramount ruler, Igwe, who promotes him in
rank as a soldier and makes him head of Abaniekpo, the most important of the lands
that they have just conquered. In appreciation both for saving his life and the
exceptional conduct which made it possible for them to win the battle, Igwe decides
to accord Otaelo respect: “I grant you life. I grant you a higher role than Otaelo”
(16). Otaelo is thus presented with the prospect of marrying his secret lover and
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Igwe’s daughter, Princess Chinyere. Chinyere is less troubled by the social uproar
caused by her decision to marry an osu, than she is about the threat from Osimiri, the
river goddess whose offer of service she has turned down for marriage. As she tells
her grandmother, Nene, “They said that Osimiri had chosen me for her priestess, and
if I failed to accept her choice, I would either go mad or die [but] I want to have
children like other women of my age” (11). Meanwhile, the most senior warrior,
Agbo, feels both jealous and humiliated by the attention being given to Otaelo by the
Igwe, “I killed more men than Otaelo. I am the head of the army, if anyone is to be
made the Igwe of Abaniekpo, it should have been me” (29). Agbo’s sentiment is
based on Umuagu’s belief that nobody becomes an osu unless it is the handiwork of
their chi (fate/destiny). When he says, “An Osu is no man…but food for the gods. So
I was brought up to know” (35), he refers to the epistemic knowledge of Osu being
products of fate/destiny, rather than the cultural practice. “Brought up to know”
being a certain cultural notion held by everyone which he uses to advance his own
aims.
Agbo decides to destroy Otaelo under the pretext of saving tradition. In a

conversation with another character, Ezeugo, Agbo insists that to accord Otaelo, the
osu, any respect whatsoever is “the enthronement of abomination. The glorification
of Osu, the death of agelong tradition”; and that he is challenging that seeming
violation of tradition, “not for my sake, but for the sake of my people” (29-30). He
devises a deadly plan to achieve his aim. He persuades his wife and Chinyere’s
friend, Obiageli to bring the princess’s jigida (waistline bead), given to her by Otaelo
after his return from battle as a sign of their undying love (36-7). Agbo collects the
jigida from Obiageli, who thinks that he plans to give it to a stringer to produce a
replica for her as he promised. Instead, Agbo gives the jigida to Ichiagu who had
earlier been accused of cowardice and relieved of his duties by Otaelo. He advises
Ichiagu to return the jigida to Chinyere who might be able to help her beg for
Otaelo’s forgiveness, “I think if you gave the jigida to her, it would melt and gladden
her heart. You will then be able to curry back the favour of our great hero” (46). As
soon as Ichiagu exits, he also informs Otaelo that he suspects Chinyere is having an
affair with Ichiagu, and can prove it with the jigida in Ichiagu’s possession. On
hearing this news, Otaelo confronts Ichiagu, finds the jigida on him and kills him in
anger (49). He also questions Chinyere who insists she is not having an affair with
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Ichiagu but is unable to produce the jigida on demand. Unconvinced, Otaelo

strangles her with the jigida. He realizes his error when Obiageli arrives to tell him
that she was the one who took the jigida at Agbo’s request. Otaelo turns on Agbo and
kills him, then himself. The Igwe loses his mind, and Umuagu is thrown into
confusion, silence and mourning.
Essentially, two things stand out from both the history of the Osu practice and
Otaelo’s marginalized position in the world of the play: 1) the status of osu can be the
result of one’s free choice (sincere or otherwise), or it can be imposed; 2) in either
case it is irrevocable. Otaelo challenges this custom when he queries his adoptive
father, Ebuka in the play, “What did I do wrong? Did I ask to be born by [my
mother]? Does blood not flow in my veins? Do I not cry, laugh or feel the pangs of
pain like anybody?” (34-5). Otaelo questions both the Osu cultural practice which
takes advantage of the flawed justice system and the patriarchal sensibility of his
society. Otaelo thus focuses on a character who challenges the physical,
psychological and emotional violence of the Osu practice through a violent means.
Otaelo has elements of plays that Victor Cahn describes as revenge tragedies that are
“marked by sensationalist violence; with plot often focusing on a single figure who
pursues a path of revenge that proves not only more destructive than the initial
violence that provoked it, but also brings about the revenger’s downfall” (5); Otaelo’s
revenge mission against his society ends in a spate of deaths including his own.
In the discussion below, I will address the following issues in the discussion
of Otaelo: 1) the destructive potentials of the Osu practice, 2) the dichotomy between
human action and chi/ori (fate/destiny), and the danger in society’s perpetuation of
marginalization. I will consider both the role of Shakespeare and the ritual
connotation of the play in relation to each other. The ritual ambience of Umuagu
must necessarily affect the way the play is interpreted. In order to avail ourselves of
the knowledge of this cultural reality, we need to understand the Igbo universe. Like
the Yoruba world, the Igbo world is conceived as both a duality (orun & aye [heaven
& earth]) and a tripartite (world of the living; world of the dead, and world of the
unborn). The sense of duality of the Igbo universe is captured by the proverbs, “Ife
kwulu, ife akwudebe ya” that is, “Wherever Something stands, Something Else will
stand by it; nothing is absolute”; and “Ife belu n’oke ka dibia n’agwo” which means,
“The healer can cure only something within bounds” (Okafor 113-4). The Igbo world
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equally accommodates a tripartite structure, an “integrated entity accommodating all

levels: the dead, living and the unborn” (Uchendu 11-2). Otaelo makes effective use
of this epistemological knowledge. Umuagu is ruled by an animist consciousness in
which actions and objects are looked upon with an air of sacrality. Related to this, the
names of the setting (Umuagu) and the central character, Otaelo, provide the
background that help us to understand the unfolding tragedy.
Umuagu lives up to the expectations of its name. “Oruko nro ni, apeja a maa
roo yan” that is, “names influence actions; so does an alias” clearly works well in the
case of Umuagu, which means “Children of Lions.” We are told in the play how
Umuagu conquers its neighbours in battlefield and expands its boundaries and
territorial control (14-5). In living up to the expectations of its name however,
Umuagu also violates the simplest, and most important, of the laws governing its
existence: the male/female principle upon which a stable society is built. The
principle of male and female essence is so important that it is reflected in the tradition
of male-focused kindred unit, the Umunna, and Umunne, its female counterpart
(Uwasomba 20). In Umuagu however, the male/female principle is replaced by
patriarchal dominance. The community celebrates masculinity and success in life is
measured in terms of bravery and honour won mainly at the battlefield. The same rule
applies in private lives: men are privileged over women. In essentializing machismo
as implied by both its judicial system and Osu cultural practice, Umuagu smothers the
“womanist venture,” which is the female essence of the gender complementary, by
which violence and chaos are balanced with order and harmony. According to
Chikwenye Okonjo-Ogunyemi:
In that womanist venture, four principles, call them the four

C’s—conciliation, collaboration, consensus, and
complementarity between men and women—predominate…
Once this mutual endeavor cancels out obnoxious machismo by
factoring in respect to include men and women…The womanist
ideal can be realized, and we can tackle outside oppression
together. (126)
On a spiritual plane, we are also presented with a dominant patriarchal consciousness

and outlook that are fully expressed in the relationship between the two most
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important deities who govern Umuagu and the people; on one hand is an aggressive
and vengeful god, Ala (the masculine manifestation of Ani, the earth goddess, in the
larger Igbo society); on the other hand is a female deity, Osimiri, the river goddess.
Ala’s presence pervades the world of Umuagu. The earth-god controls all
human actions therein, dispenses justice at will though in favour of the men. As the
story of Otaelo’s mother shows, Ala does not sanction a husband (Otaelo’s father)
who brutalizes his wife but punishes the wife for fighting back, sentences her to death
and condemns her child to a life of ostracism and shame---the life of an osu. In a
nutshell, if indeed Ala is the earth-god and protector of the people, he acts totally in
contrast to his name and role in both the case of Otaelo and his mother. On her own
part, Osimiri enforces obedience, and demands devotion, with the threat of insanity
and/or death. She also threatens only the female members of the society. As relayed
by her spokesperson, Osimiri demands Chinyere’s devotion as her priestess
accompanied by a threat including a time limit to accept the request,
“Chinyere…Osimiri wants you as her priestess. There is no escape from the gaze of
Osimiri. Three days…that is all you have or else, Osimiri will avenge her shame of
rejection” (12). As it were, in living up to its name both at the physical and spiritual
levels and failing to avail itself of the potentials inherent in the female principle,
Umuagu creates the enabling environment for tragedy.
Otaelo’s name reflects the circumstances of his birth and especially the tragic
story of his mother. In conversation with his adoptive father, Ebuka, Otaelo mentions
his awareness of this fact about his life, “Oh old man unburden my heart with my
mother’s load of sin. I was not even born yet…it was her in order to run from the
punishment of death, ran to the shrine of Ala for protection. There she became an
osu…” (34). Otaelo’s recognition of his mother’s role in his own name reflects Igbo
(and Yoruba) beliefs about a mother’s influence on her child (ren)’s life right from
birth, a spiritual connection with social implications. As Okonjo-Ogunyemi writes:
Women’s power is predicated on the belief that, openly

acknowledged or not, a feminine force determines the important
phases of each individual’s life. This gives rise to the worship of
and dependence on the mother, the most loyal female that one
can have. On the personal level, the relationship with the mother
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extends into the concept of Chi/Ori […]; the mother within---a

treasure, always beautiful, always precious, always dependable,
always already there. (35-6)20
From this perspective, feminine strength derives from the connection between
womanhood, motherhood and the female principle and the influence that these
spiritual elements exert on an individual’s destiny. In the play, Ebuka warns Otaelo
not to forget “the mother within” more so at that time in Umuagu when he is being
feted in spite of his osu status, “Caution my son. Or else you will slip lower than who
and what you think you are” (34). He also uses familiar animal imagery that Otaelo
understands to explain to him that, no matter his level of success, Umuagu does not
seem to be ready to accept him or any other osu for that matter, hence, he (Otaelo)
must not forget where he truly belongs, “A dog is still a dog, and a hyena, a hyena,
even though their faces bear a semblance” (33). Otaelo fails to heed the old man’s
advice and, invoking Shakespeare’s ostracized Jew, Shylock, from The Merchant of
Venice, he asks Ebuka, “Does blood not flow in my veins? Do I not cry, laugh or feel
the pangs of pain like anybody… Why must I lose everything? Why can I not just be
a man?” (34-5). Although Otaelo acknowledges the “mother within,” or more
specifically, the “womanist venture,” since at least this is suggested by the importance
that he attaches to the jigida given to him by his mother (which is the material
representation of that acknowledgement) as I will show later on, he rejects the osu
status her action imposed on him, including its remotest connection to his chi/ori
(fate/destiny).
Osu status in Umuagu, in other words, the “Osu becoming” is considered to be

determined by chi. The Igbo proverb, “Ofu nne n’amu, ma ofu chi adeke” that is, “one
mother gives birth, different chi creates” explains this aspect of the belief. As
discussed while developing the Yoruba-Shakespeare theory that Ori (“head” in simple
term) constitutes the spiritual aspect and essence of the human personality and
fate/destiny for the Yoruba; its equivalent is chi in Igbo culture. Chinua Achebe
explains that, “in a general way we may visualize a person’s chi as his other identity
in the spirit land; his/her spirit-being complementing the terrestrial human being”
20This spiritual relationship as well as its manifestation is fully demonstrated in the Yoruba rites of “ikose
w’aye”and “imori” (“Stepping into the World” and “Knowing the Head”) respectively, in which a child’s
connection to the mother is the most significant requirement during the divination process.
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(93). In Igbo society, success in life is considered to be determined by what s/he has
chosen before coming to the world, a choice that is presided over by chi, “the Igbo
believe that a (wo)man receives her/his gifts or talents, her/his character, indeed
her/his life generally before coming into the world…and that the chi presides over the
bargain” (96). New-born children are named with similar expectation of the role that
chi would play in the fulfilment of their destiny, as determined by social
circumstance. Igbo names such as Chika (chi is supreme), Chibuzo (chi is in
front/leads), Nebechi (Look to chi), Chinwubo (chi aids increase and prosperity),
Chiebonam (May chi not accuse me) and Chikadibia (chi is greater than medicine),
among several others explicate this belief (Achebe 97); the assumption of the role of
chi in these aforementioned names also underscores the perception in Umuagu that
Otaelo’s osu status is the result of his fate/destiny.
Chinyere is also explicitly connected to chi in this regard. As her name

interprets, “God gave,” it is clear which “God” gave in the context of the play. But, in
choosing Otaelo, it is apparent that her supposed fate/destiny is tied to Otaelo’s. By
her own admission while discussing with her friend Obiageli, “If I were to swing on
the pendulum of fate, I will swing into the longing arms of Otaelo,” Chinyere adds
what turns out to be prophetic in her doomed relationship with Otaelo, “if [Otaelo] is
to take a knife to my throat and slit it…the way I feel, I will dance to my death
joyfully” (19-20). Considering also that the only “God” in Umuagu (as her name
interprets) is Ala, and knowing that her father is acting against Ala by celebrating
Otaelo who has also not only recently turned his back on Ala but slandered the deity,
her decision to marry Otaelo also suggests that their fates are entwined.
The hatred that accompanies the construction of the osu as outcasts, and “the
Other” in Umuagu, is vividly presented when Otaelo arrives with the Igwe’s army
from the battlefield. The stage directions indicate that, while some of the warriors sit
and others dance and drink, Otaelo is completely ignored, left out of the celebration of
a victory that he played a very significant part in winning, “Otaelo does not sit [but]
watches, standing behind the throne” (14-5). Elsewhere, I argue that this scene
suggests that Otaelo appears not to exist, at least as far as the other characters onstage
are concerned (Balogun 2014: 81-92) Otaelo is clearly presented as a character
confined to the margin or periphery of existence in his own society by his chi.
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The uproar among the elders and the community at large caused by the Igwe’s
plan to honour Otaelo is thus understandable. For a start, Agbo accuses the elders of
complicity in destroying the land through their silence while the Igwe fetes Otaelo,
“an osu runs wild in the land, you elders do nothing about it. The soldiers murmur,
and the youths are restless. The elders must be careful in this matter” (29). But the
elders are not actually in support of the Igwe’s decision. The most senior elder in the
land, Ezeugo, tells the Igwe in clear terms, “The land rejects your intended action, the
people reject your intended action”, while another elder, Obiajulu, states, “Let us call
Otaelo, and tell him…go to your people, pick a girl, and the palace will pay the bride
price. Even that gesture is an abomination,” to which Ekekwe also adds firmly, “Let
the osu return to his people” (26), whom, unfortunately, Otaelo himself has turned his
back on after returning from battle.
It is clear that the Igwe’s efforts to welcome Otaelo into the social circle by
elevating him in rank and his decision to bless his (Otaelo)’s marriage to his daughter
are not only kicked against openly but also decried as sacrilegious. Hence, failing to
receive the elders’ support, the Igwe invites the diviner, Okaramuo, to seek the gods’
consent. However, he is handed an inflexible sanction by the gods should Otaelo’s
marriage to his daughter be contracted:
Both the osu and his wife must never set foot on the soil of
Umuagu again after they are married. No celebration must be
made, only the handmaidens of six must dance at the wedding.
No child from the marriage must be allowed to come to
Umuagu. Before they leave, [the Igwe] must kill a white goat to
cleanse the land. And [he] must never set eyes on [his] daughter
again until the day of [his] death. (28)
Any aspiration by Otaelo beyond his limited boundaries is regarded as an attempt to

overreach himself. Ebuka also expresses deep shock and disbelief over Otaelo’s
insistence to marry Chinyere in spite of both social reaction and the sanctions by the
gods, “What are you doing here amongst vultures waiting for you to fall...they treat
you like a leper and yet call you a king?” (33). Indifferent, Otaelo insists on the
marriage, “But can’t I aspire, protected still by Ala, the great earth god, to become
somebody else?” (34). When Ebuka tells him that Ala has already defined where he
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(Otaelo) belongs, “Come to us your people”, Otaelo is infuriated, boasts of his

prowess and slights Ala in the process, “I said yes and my chi bellowed in agreement.
I am greater than Ala. I am greater than all men. Through my bravery I turn my black
blood red…I hold my chi in my hands, and not even Ala can stop me now” (33-5). As
his adoptive father and under whose care he grew up, Ebuka is troubled by the young
man’s insistence on pursuing an agenda that seems to lead down the path of
destruction, “Otaelo, I feel your hurt, but come with me, before the earth swallows
you” (35). Ebuka’s concern is based on his thorough understanding of Umuagu’s rigid
attitude toward the osu who are believed to have been confined to the life of misery
and ostracism by fate/destiny.
Otaelo hopes to overcome his marginalized position in Umuagu.When

Chinyere arrives at the scene shortly after the old man’s exit, he reiterates the fact, “I
ponder at the turn of my luck. How well the gods smile on me. How well does an
osu…” (36).The lovers renew their pledge of love to each other and seal it with an
oath, after which Otaelo gives her a set of beads, jigida, which was the only specific
object that his mother left him (36-7). Unknown to him however, Chinyere’s arrival
marks a turning point in what he earlier thought to be positive change in his life;
rather than being the object of love as intended, the jigida becomes a tool of
destruction.
The importance that Otaelo attaches to the jigida brings us to the use of
symbolism in Otaelo. As I mentioned earlier, a consciousness of sacrality is attached
to certain objects in the play. For us to understand the cultural value of the jigida and
why it is so important that Otaelo destroys three lives including his own because of it,
we need to first examine the importance of the Igwe’s ofor (staff of office), which
operates as a symbol linking the ancestors (Ala specifically) through the Igwe to
Otaelo, and the jigida at the end.
Although Otaelo doesn’t draw much attention to it, the ofor symbolizes
authority, manliness and strength. It is one of the three instruments that define a
king’s physical and spiritual essence; the others are the crown and the royal
stool/throne. Also called opa ase by the Yoruba, pronouncements made with the ofor
corresponds to divine injunction. But the Igwe’s use of his ofor to make a
proclamation elevating the status of an osu amounts to a misappropriation of that
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authority, at least according to the elders who are present at the scene. They describe
the Igwe’s action as some sort of insanity, or “madness in the air” (17); to them it
represents a sign of the disconnection between the Igwe and his ancestors. In using his
oforto elevate the osu, in defiance of tradition, the Igwe’s life becomes tied to the osu.
Similarly, the cultural expectations embedded in the jigida are inverted as the
action progresses. Although it is a common practice for lovers to exchange gifts as
signs of love, a ritual dimension is added to the jigida through the blood-oath which
accompanies its exchange, in which it acquires a new meaning based on the imule
(oath). Among the Yoruba, imule (oath) is a ritual act which involves a binding
spiritual accord with severe consequences for whoever violates it. This is because the
exchange is accompanied by another cultural element called gbolohun, or tone of
finality and metaphysical correspondence.While giving Chinyere the jigida as a sign
of love, Otaelo’s tone carries with it the entirety of the expectation of what it should
serve, including a certain correspondence to finality, which she also affirms by her
own utterance:
Otaelo: Now I have you in me, and me in you. By our blood now
mixed, I shall never love another. I shall never leave you.
Chinyere: By the gods this blood like mine, tastes so sweet and
real with the ingredients of love. To this oath, I give my life. (36;
emphasis added)
Otaelo, in putting the jigida round her waist which is both her region of sexual union
with a man and the passage of life for a new child, proclaims the intention of being in
her, and she in him. With that oath, they seal the vow that intertwines their lives and
fate/chi--- a fact that she ironically alludes to earlier while telling her friend, Obiageli,
how much she loves him, “if I were to swing on the pendulum of fate, I will swing
into the arms of Otaelo” (20). In her own words after the oath, “To this oath, I give
my life”; and in his own words, her love is “more than life. For in you I have the
freedom of heart. Not because you are a princess, but because, you control the air that
I breathe” (36), they both confirm the potency of the imule (oath) by sealing it with
their lives.
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While oaths are frequently made and broken, this particular imule (oath) is
unique in many ways. Not only because of the blood exchange that strengthens it
beyond any casual attempt to revoke later on but more so because of the involvement
of Ogun whose weapon, a razor, is used to pierce the lovers’ skin. In “inviting” Ogun
to sanctify the act as it were, a deadly imperative is added to the bargain. While
certain forms of imule can be revoked if the parties involved decide it is necessary to
do so, the invoking of Ogun makes this particular nullification process impossible:
even if they can revoke words spoken it is impossible to recall blood already mixed.
As Barnes explains:
Ogun…stands for humans’ collective attempts to govern, not

what is out of control in nature, but what is out of control in
culture. He represents not so much what is inexplicable, unseen,
or unknown, as what is known but not under control…a
symbolic recognition of human limitations---human frailty. (17)
The involvement of not only Ogun but Ala, who represents ile ogere, “earth force”
upon which the lovers’ make their oath, also makes it effectively impossible to nullify
the imule. Like its female counterpart, Ani, in the larger Igbo society, Ala retains his
duties of supervising the moral codes and laws which govern both public and private
conduct in Otaelo, yet in this play, Ala does not represent moral rectitude so much as
revenge. Ala is complicit in the flawed justice handed Otaelo’s mother over the death
of her husband, and has also punished her for running into his inner sanctuary, thereby
leading to Otaelo’s osu status. Besides, Otaelo has had a bad history with Ala,
beginning with the condition of his birth, not to mention his insulting retort to Ebuka,
“Caution, son. You anger the god, Ala, and he retaliates”; Otaelo responds, “Let him.
Retaliates! Which god? I am greater than the god, Ala” (34). It is highly unlikely that
Ala would help the couple to revoke the oath.
Another dangerous dimension to the oath is the reason why the lovers took it
in the first place. While Chinyere uses the oath to assure herself of Otaelo’s protection
and to bolster her confidence towards Osimiri, who threatens her with death or
insanity for refusing to serve as her priestess, Otaelo needs the oath to assure himself
of Chinyere’s love and loyalty, and to convince himself that he is a human being after
all and thus capable of loving and being loved, considering Agbo’s remark that “the
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Osu is worse than the lowest animals” (38). Given that a gift remains what it is—a
gift, so long as the giver and receiver both understand the basis upon which such a gift
exchanged hands in the first place--- the same cannot be said of this particular gift of
love, or the intention behind its exchange by both lovers. In light of the fact that the
jigida was a gift from Otaelo’s mother whose trust was betrayed by his father,
Chinyere’s inability to produce the jigida on demand later in the play leads to his
distrust of her action and unthinkable tragedy
We should also keep in mind that Otaelo initiated the idea of the oath for a
special reason: “to put my wild heart at rest” (36). With this statement, Otaelo admits
that he recognizes his own irascible nature, which he later demonstrates when, in
jealousy, he kills his most loyal and trustworthy lieutenant, Ichiagu. His statement
also suggests his recognition of the failings of his father; the brutality of lust and
power that best describes how his father treated his mother---a failing that he hopes
not to repeat. In this sense, the jigida becomes a ritual material that draws attention to
both the failure of the past and the hope of the future. Unfortunately, Otaelo is unable
to reconcile the fact that the jigida he gave Chinyere in secret has found its way into
Ichiagu’s hand; the only plausible explanation being her infidelity, which is exactly
what Agbo wants him to believe:
Otaelo: The beads, my loving wife, the beads, where are they?
Chinyere: (Tearful) Gone. Someone stole them.
Otaelo: (Gives a wild laugh) Gone? To where? A jigida

remains where your husband puts them, and by the gods
they do not move or leave the waist unless another
[hand] removes them. (54)
It is logical to view Otaelo’s rash reaction to the issue of the jigida as the result of his
mental and psychological destruction by his society. Even though he claims to trust
Chinyere while putting the jigida round her waist, “Now I have you in me, and me in
you…I shall never leave you and I shall never doubt you. Ala is our witness” (36), the
way he handles the accusation of infidelity clearly shows that he doesn’t. In the
conversation below where he openly accuses Chinyere of infidelity, we see a
manwhose present action is being influenced by the past:
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Otaelo: Woman you play games with me?
Chinyere: Games? With you?
Otaelo: Yes with me. For you saw that I was an Osu when you
confessed your love, now afraid that you and I must leave
Umuagu and never return, you begin to cringe at the thought of
my person.
Chinyere: Otaelo, why do you say all these things? I love you.
Otaelo: Child, you do not even know the meaning of the word.
This is not the prittle and prattle of the princess and her
playmates at play. This is life.
Chinyere: Then teach me. Otaelo teach me. By the gods, I swear.
Otaelo: Leave the gods out of this for you anger me more, and
my blood boils when you turn the gods to playthings.
Chinyere: Let it boil, because up till now you accuse me of

nothing. (52-3)
Ostracism makes Otaelo paranoid and on the alert for the prospect of betrayal;
unfortunately, it is the paranoia that destroys him. Chinyere senses that the situation is
bad when he confronts her and she tries to avoid making it worse:
Chinyere: Your eyes are filled with fire, and they scare me.
Otaelo: Then let me put out the embers that make my eyes burn.
Don’t push me, for in putting out the light in my eyes, I may
snuff out the light of my heart.
Chinyere: (Confused): Your anger overboils. I think it is best

that I avoid trouble and sleep in my mother’s room tonight. (53)
But Otaelo refuses to hear her side of the story. Chinyere tries to convince him of her
innocence by drawing attention to the oath, “That I love you, and took an oath to love
you to death is not enough?”, but Otaelo is far too angry to reason with her. Instead,
he considers her plea as a childish ploy, “a game, a childish game to make the fool
happy” for he thinks her supposed infidelity not only, “debases him” but also “makes
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the gods fools along with him” (54). In a moment of virulent anger, he strangles her to
death with the jigida, only to learn from Obiageli who arrives at the scene shortly
afterward, that it was Agbo who orchestrated the whole troubling scenario.
When the Igwe arrives at the scene with Agbo and finds his daughter’s body
on the ground, his first impulse is to turn to Agbo, “As you said it Ogbuefi Agbo the
animal has done it” which confirms Obiageli’s claim that Agbo orchestrated the
whole plan. When the Igwe also turns to Otaelo and cries, “Why have you decided to
pay my good deeds with pain? My only child lies dead because of a set of beads” (55-
6), Otaelo becomes aware of a number of significant facts: the extent of the hatred
that Agbo, who personifies the society, has towards him; that the osu is condemned to
a life of ostracism by his chi; that whoever supports the osu’s attempt to transit from
that marginal position to the mainstream (the Igwe in this case) violates sacred
tradition; the depth of love that the Igwe had for him despite the social attitude
towards him and the osu class, at the risk of his own happiness and position. But this
realization comes rather too late. In order to save himself a long period of trial that
would eventually end in his execution, Otaelo decides to end his life, but also take
Agbo along with him. He stabs Agbo in the back with his dagger while screaming in
anger, “Now die by the hands of me whom you hate so much. As I spill your blood,
our shame is complete, for there is no way they will tell your story without a mention
of how an untouchable put you to death. In hating me, our lives have become
entwined” (56). In the end, it is not only Otaelo the osu who dies, but also Princess
Chinyere and Agbo, while Umuagu is also thrown into misery and melancholy.
Thus far, I have discussed the destructive potentials of the Osu practice. In this
discussion, I examined its ritual connotation in relation to the dichotomy between
human action and chi/ori (fate/destiny) which the people of Umuagu believe to be
responsible for the Osu practice, the role of Ala in its perpetuation, and the jigida
factor in the tragedy that accompanied the social reaction of the characters towards
the Osu practice and the society. While the Osu practice and those classified as osu
are considered unfortunate victims of fate/destiny in Umuagu, it is also necessary for
us to examine some other aspects of the play which suggest that such a claim is not
entirely true. In order for us to do this, we shall look at how Yerima uses archetypal
characterization and language to present the tragedy that the play dramatizes and the
alternative perspective represented by omoluabi in relation to chi.
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Otaelo brings all the major characters together in the last scene in a strategic
way. Ogun’s overriding attribute of violent destruction is at the centre of the
relationship that we have among these characters. In the characters’ dealings, they
demonstrate Ogun’s metaphor for human beings unsuccessful attempt to reconcile the
opposites that govern their lives.
Otaelo embodies Ogun’s dual personality. While one side of him suggests a
universal character trait, the other side functions specifically within the context of
Yoruba mythology. From the perspective of the former, Otaelo/Ogun is an
“everyman” of some sort whose struggles and suffering are a reflection of the
suffering by some people, within the purview of an endemic practice of human
violation. From the perspective of Yoruba mythology however, Otaelo is the
archetypal Ogun, the “suffering deity” (Soyinka 145) and the “essence of anguish”
(150); and the overriding attribute of the deity that he displays is the destructive
aspect, in response to his ostracism and marginalization in Umuagu through the Osu
practice.
In many of the stories drawn from the Yoruba mythology about Ogun, one
which stands out and clearly connects with Otaelo’s life is the deity’s withdrawal into
solitude and eternal isolation in remorse for killing his people under the influence of
alcohol, while the same story claims he actually committed suicide (Barnes 17). In
reverse, Otaelo comes out of ostracism imposed by society, attains renown and fame
through military prowess like Ogun and, at the height of his fame, he commits suicide
like the deity. In another of his numerous ijala (praise poetry of Ogun), the deity is
hailed by the Yoruba as “Him, of Seven Paths, who to right a wrong, emptied
reservoirs of blood in heaven” (Soyinka 1976b:22). The world created in Otaelo is
torn apart by Otaelo who, although not drunk as Ogun but jealous and deceived,
unleashes violence on his society in the attempt to correct the error of his birth
(especially the circumstance that defines his osu status), and the shame that
accompanies the denigration of his person and the other osu like him.
From the foregoing, at least two things stand out from Otaelo’s story:
Umuagu’s creation of the enabling environment for tragedy and his own failure to
live a life that could make him qualify as an omoluabi (the principle of good
character), judging from his relationship with Ichiagu and Chinyere. In looking at
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Otaelo from these two perspectives, it will become clear that his initial denigration as
an osu, and the subsequent tragedy that results from his effort to change that
situation, have nothing to do with chi/fate. Considering that Chinyere whose name
explicitly shows a connection to chi is not ostracised or condemned, it is clear that
Otaelo’s parent’s social status actually determined the type of social reaction that led
to his own ostracism as an osu in Umuagu. It is also the same social status that Agbo,
acting under the pretext of safeguarding culture and tradition, tries to maintain. At
least this point is clear when he insists that he deserves more recognition and
accolades than Otaelo.
Umuagu neither recognizes respect and human dignity nor mutual sympathy
as the guiding principle of human conduct within its borders, as the Osu practice
clearly shows. Hence, Umuagu can neither claim to be an environment where sanity
and order are celebrated virtues, nor can its failures be ascribed to chi/fate, just as
Otaelo’s tragedy cannot be ascribed to the inescapable force of destiny. In this case,
Otaelo’s tragedy must be examined from two perspectives: society and his own
personal failure as an omoluabi.
The first point can be explained from the perspective of an olori buruku (ill-
fated person) who gets destroyed by society (aye) where he is badly nurtured.
According to the Yoruba, as I suppose in other parts of the world, the society plays a
very crucial role in moulding the iwa (character) of an individual, failure of which
the same society can neither exonerate itself, nor be protected from the possible
adversity that may arise from that individual’s misdemeanour. As Sophie Oluwole
reminds us, an omoluabi would be:
Omo-ti o ni’wa bi A person who behaves like…
Eni ti a ko Someone properly nurtured,
Ti o si gba eko And who behaves accordingly (Oluwole 2007:13).
From another perspective through which society is culpable in Otaelo’s failure to

behave in tandem with acceptable standard of social behaviour, we should consider
the type of model that his parents are. The Yoruba expressions, “Iya ni Tisha”
(Mother is the first teacher) and “Baba la’wo ko se” (Father is the ideal role model),
are nullified by his parents’ history of violence and brutality, which determined the
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circumstance and nature of Otaelo’s birth and subsequent classification/ostracism as

an osu.
Secondly, Otaelo’s tragedy should be seen in light of his failure to qualify as

an omoluabi and this is where human action must be considered as a factor of failure.
Here, I am talking about his own inability to “rename” himself when the opportunity
presented itself. Yoruba understanding highlighted by the saying, “Bibii re ko see
f’owo ra; ki a bi’ni ko to ka tun ‘ra eni bi” (Financial/social freedom does not
necessarily determine the circumstance of birth; to be born is not as important as
finding one’s feet in life) suggests that circumstance of birth may be faulty, but with
good behaviour and a commitment to change an awry beginning through renaming,
the past could be re-written. This is what Geetha Ganapathy-Dore calls “autogenesis,”
which centres on the relationship between the “inheritance and significance of names,
the destinies they carry, the burden of a name and the association of name and fame”
as well as the “relationship between name and life and between name and self, loss of
name and self, the aliases and guises that put the sense of the self to test” and, most
especially, the “retrieval of name and self and the sense of renaissance that
accompany it” (13). In other words, what happened to Otaelo at birth is the result of
circumstances beyond his control, and which he has had to live with. But, the
opportunity the Igwe presents to him to transition from social abhorrence and
seclusion to love and companionship (at least what his marriage to Chinyere could
have provided him) should ordinarily have constituted part of his own process of
“unnaming and renaming”, which is tantamount to “ti tun ‘ra eni bi” as explained
above.
Otaelo fails to take advantage of the opportunity to “rename” himself because

of pride and impetuousness. Having been informed of his elevation and planned
marriage to Chinyere and, by extension, into royalty, he becomes arrogant: he sacks
his most trusted lieutenant, Ichiagu, who loves and respects him in spite of his osu
status, “why do you want a coward and a hero to dine on the same plate…I want to
excel not to be brought down by a weeping bull…now leave me!” (32); he dismisses
Ebuka and considers himself better than the rest of the osu in the land, “Go to your
people. Tell them that I have left them. Tell them that I raise my head above their
shame” (35); he insultsAla, and reacts rashly towards Chinyere over the missing
jigida. His actions end in the destruction of his loved ones and himself.
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In this case, the “Pele” principle of caution in human behaviour applies to

Otaelo. “Pele ko ma baa parae” (Be careful so that you will not kill yourself) suggests
that, in failing to exhibit restraint in his behaviour, Otaelo creates the opportunity for
society in both its macro (Umuagu) and micro (Agbo) levels to destroy him; while
“Pele ko ma baa ko ba ‘ra yoku” (Be careful so that you do not cause harm to others)
also applies in the way he destroys both Chinyere and Ichiagu in the process. Yoruba
explanation for his tragedy in this circumstance would be that it is caused by afowofa
(self-causation), which is due to a defect in his iwa (character). Ifa, in one of its short
odu (verses) admonishes people about good character:
Iwa nikan lo soro o Character is all that is requisite
Iwa nikan lo soro Character is all that is requisite
Ori kan kii buru lotu Ife There is no destiny to be called

unhappy in [life]
Iwa nikan lo soro o Character is all that is requisite
(qtd in Ekanola 49).
Otaelo uses the death of Otaelo and especially Chinyere’s and Agbo’s, to force a
reflection about the senselessness in how people maltreat themselves based on class
and social status. Yoruba understanding is that, irrespective of rank and status, what
all human beings share in common is a life that amounts to nothing at the point of
death. When the gods, through Ezugo, delivers the message, “As for the Princess and
Ogbuefi Agbo, take them to the big bush, and leave them there for their bodies have
been defiled. No one should mourn them, and [their] hut must be burnt down as if no
one ever stepped in here” (57), it is clear that death has dismantled class and status.
This is the exact point that Ebuka articulates on seeing Otaelo’s and the other corpses
on the ground. Ebuka stresses:
Oh death how well you level the freeborn and the Osu.
For as the same blood flows in our veins, so do you take
us on equal terms. Sleep good prince for maybe, your
next coming might be better. Sleep in death, now
knowing who you are. (57)
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Although Ebuka’s statement is remorseful, it also contains many points of

significance, one of which is the fact that in death, Otaelo seems to finally achieve the
“freedom” that he sacrificed his life struggling for. Ebuka calls Otaelo a “prince”
which he would have become if he consummated his marriage to Chinyere
irrespective of the sanction that banishes them. Ebuka also talks about “next coming”
that is, reincarnation, which is a significant cultural belief in most parts of Africa, and
especially among the Yoruba and which I will come to very shortly. Ebuka suggests
that Otaelo is now free, that he discovers himself and his true potentials, in spite of
anything else. Even though Ebuka laments Otaelo’s death, he takes solace in the fact
that he (Otaelo) finally returns to the osu fold that he had rejected, “He returns,
though complete but not whole” (57) which also derives from the same cultural
sensibility of reincarnation that I earlier pointed out.
Although “completeness” may not translate as being “whole” its essence
stresses the significance attached to after-life (reincarnation) among the Yoruba, and
which Ebuka means by “next coming.” The import of this cultural concept is located
in the atubotan (essence of life).21 By atubotan, the Yoruba stress the need for people
to live a life worthy of emulation and strive to do good at all times. Ebuka makes a
recourse to atubotan by first acknowledging the fact that Otaelo is a liminal figure [an
osu] “who undergoes separation or alienation from his society and initiation into
another realm of experience, followed by return to his own world with the fruits of his
journey”; that is, in spite of the initial negative social reaction towards him, Otaelo
regains his denied humanity in death. By linking his death to Chinyere and Agbo, it
becomes imperative for the same society that denigrated him in life to practically beg
his (osu) people to have the others buried. This is more so important because, while
their death is considered a shameful thing, not being buried is seen to be worse and
potentially dangerous to the community’s wellbeing. Thus, as a liminal figure, Otaelo
is both “an outcast and a potential healer of the society’s malaise” (Barber, xii).
Hence, while atubotan stresses the metaphysical reality of the value inherent in
human life irrespective of status, it also underscores the fact that human worth is
much more determined by the level of positive impact that an individual has on its
society even in death.
21Although this is not actually a perfect explanation of what atubotan means, it gives us a sense of what is
intended.
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Barnes’ statement that “destruction is creative and creation is destructive” (17)

in her description of the opposing sides of Ogun, describes Agbo and the Igwe who
demonstrate the two Ogun opposites in their own actions. While the former represents
the destructive aspect, the latter stands for the positive. Between the two characters,
we are clearly reminded of the unending tension marked by the paradox of Ogun’s
two sides, that is: Agbo’s mission to destroy Otaelo and the Igwe’s redemptive effort
in the tragedy that the play dramatizes.
With regard to the former, Agbo represents everything that is wrong with
Umuagu. Blinded by rage and jealousy towards Otaelo, he refuses to heed Ezeugo’s
warning, “Do not push the gods or they may trip you…do not look into the eyes of the
gods when they blink.” Rather, he is driven by the desire to exact revenge on Otaelo
“The gods take too long. I am a soldier, I pray to the gods, then push them with my
songs and fiery nature to accept my prayers” (30). Agbo doesn’t believe that Otaelo is
a better warrior compared to himself, or that the young man deserves to live as a free
citizen, unencumbered by the obsolete Osu tradition. Agbo could be described as the
typical “ajegbogbo ti nwe’ni kun ‘ra” (The haughty fellow desperately in search of
company), who is misguided by his own sense of superiority and vain glory. While he
considers Otaelo to be “an abomination as it were”, and the Igwe who is “caught up in
his fight with his father’s ghost” from which he must be rescued, Agbo thinks of
himself as the saviour of the land who “shall not sit still and watch an untouchable
defile the shrines” (38). In the end, his actions underline part of the lessons in itan
about Ogun’s signification of the “paradoxical truth of destructiveness” and how
human beings trap themselves in their own folly.
In contrast, the Igwe sacrifices his life and happiness in order to force his
society to re-examine its values and social perception in regard to the Osu practice. In
demonstrating the positive aspect of Ogun on one hand, the Igwe shows how he also
stresses the deity’s “profoundly satisfying symbolic expression of a human dilemma
of how to balance the need for constraint against the need for freedom” (Barnes 19).
This is in terms of weighing the gains of an effort against its liability. However, the
Igwe shows that he is aware of the problems associated with his “romance” with
Otaelo at a meeting with his council of chiefs, “This is my case, for tonight, I am the
accused, and the carrier of the burden of guilt” (26). In this sense, he also occupies the
threshold as a liminal figure and a hero as Otaelo. Although the elders believe that he
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is insane, Igwe is actually “a source of social regeneration” who, with his action,
proves that “it is the society and not the hero that is mad” (Barber xii). In his effort,
Igwe demonstrates that human limitations can be surmounted if people set their minds
to such a purpose even if they suffer in the process.
Chinyere is however the Igwe’s “price” for defying tradition and attempting to
alleviate the social condition of the osu. Like her father, she also believes in the
dignity of the human person beyond social constraints posed by laws and tradition,
judging from her conversation with her friend, Obiageli (18-22). Moreover, she also
dares to assert her right in a society where male chauvinism is glorified. Although she
dies at the end in the hands of Otaelo who realizes too late the depth of her innocence
and love for him, as “the spirit of his own life” (54), her sacrifice is not for nothing.
These points bring us to how the play uses language to foreground its theme.
In this case, I refer to how the play uses owe (proverb). Otaelo uses owe to show the
epistemological and moral ethos which govern Umuagu. Owe is also utilized to
highlight specific situations in order to foreground the theme of the play including its
broader social relevance. As a result, the audience is invited to re-examine the issue of
discrimination both in the lives of the characters in the text and in the larger human
(Nigerian) society that we live in today, especially with regards to the ongoing Igbo
people’s agitation for Biafra.
In the opening scene, the old woman Nene says “To kill a chicken, you must
first kill the mother-hen” (12), which is a proverb she uses to allay Chinyere’s fear
about Osimiri’s threat to the young woman’s life. Aside from its relevance to the
situation in which it is used, the proverb also summarizes the moral character of
Umuagu in other ways. Though Nene uses the proverb to stress her resolve to ensure
that her granddaughter lives a life of her own choosing without being coerced into
serving as a priestess to a river goddess, the proverb also underlines the social attitude
towards Otaelo’s mother. While Umuagu does not punish her husband for humiliating
and brutalizing her, it comes down heavily on her for defending herself. Hence, apart
from highlighting gender imbalance in the community, the proverb also shows that
Otaelo became a victim of his mother’s brutal treatment through its flawed judicial
system.
The relevance of proverbs as vehicles of discourse in a cultural context is also

demonstrated in Otaelo. Obidigbo uses the proverb, “leave the leprous sickness to
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discuss pimples” (26), to describe the frenzy among the elders over Igwe’s intention
to allow Otaelo marry his daughter. The elders condemn the Igwe’s seeming humane
acts, and are angry that he does not seem perturbed by the danger his decision
portends for the society; namely: taking Otaelo the osu to the battlefield against
tradition prohibiting such interaction between an osu and other members of the
society, and his consent to the osu’s marriage to his daughter when the tradition states
explicitly that theosucannot marry any freeborn Igbo.
It is instructive that the proverb combines two words associated with sickness
to drive home the point that is emphasized in this scene. While this particular proverb
functions as a metaphoric expression of the moral sickness that the community suffers
due to the execrable Osu caste system, it also stresses that the cultural practice is a
chronic disease, which ought to have been cured. However, the irony which the
proverb states very well is expressed by Ezeugo who asks, “I do not understand the
last speaker. Who is the leprous person? The Igwe or the Osu?” (27). According to the
other elders, it is either the Igwe is sick for entertaining the osu, or Otaelo the osu is
sick for aspiring to marry the princess, or both of them are sick for imagining that
they can circumvent the tradition of the land. Through this device, the play as a whole
can be seen to ask whether it is the Osu practice that is horrific, or the people who
practice it, or both. But, rather than condemning the Osu practice which is a far more
dangerous social problem, the elders find the Igwe’s redeeming actions greatly
disturbing.
In this particular circumstance, the philosophical imperative of Yoruba

proverbs in their function to acquiring ogbon (wisdom) and oye (understanding),
which are sine qua non to harmonious co-existence in a given society, is lost on the
elders who argue and condemn the Igwe’s action. On one hand, the proverb shows
that the land is sick because it is being guided by a defective moral principle that is
validated by tradition and is binding on the people. On the other hand, it also shows
that a society driven by such an ethos that discountenances people based on descent
rather than common humanity suffers from a terrible sickness which is tantamount to
treating pimples on the face while the whole body is ravaged by leprosy. As such, the
proverb hints at the consequences of ostracism and psychological destruction of
humanity that the Osu caste system represents including its far-reaching tragic
implication compared to the violation of tradition that the Igwe’s actions appear to
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constitute. This is a fact that becomes apparent when it is too late to do anything about
it.
While the proverb summarizes the central point of the play, it also draws our
attention to the (ir)relevance of the ongoing agitation by the Igbo for the Republic of
Biafra which I mentioned easrlier. While the recent Igbo quest is based on their own
perceived marginalization in Nigeria, it is ironic that they also practise the Osu culture
which promotes discrimination and marginalization. One wonders if the Igbo would
rather tolerate being marginalized by their own people than having others do it for/to
them. Considering also that Otaelo ends with a spate of sporadic deaths and
melancholy (the Igbo agitation has also claimed more than two thousand lives), one
may say categorically that Otaelo draws attention to rash reactions that do not take
into account the tragic history of the past.
Earlier on, I interpreted the Igbo saying, “Wherever Something stands,

Something Else will stand by it,” as the Igbo people’s recognition of the duality of
their worldview. Explaining the same concept elsewhere, Achebe mentions that “It
means that there is no one way to anything. The Ibo people who made that proverb are
very insistent on this---there is no absolute anything. They are against excess---their
world is a world of dualities. It is good to be brave, they say, but also remember that
the coward survives (qtd in Moyers 333).22 Simply put, Achebe identifies two things
that are related to Yoruba approach to life and relevant to our discussion of Otaelo
here: the Igbo recognize the fact that there are no absolutes and frown at excess in
anything—both of which Umuagu and Otaelo represent in their totality. Although as
Obioma Nnaemeka argues, while a fictional setting like Umuagu and Otaelo may not
be true representatives of real-life Igbo society where paradoxes are expected and are
allowed to coexist--individuals’ personal achievements which are admired and
impatience, violence and extremism that they abhor--considering that the Osu caste
system is still being practised today suggests otherwise. While it is also true that the
Igbo worldview (as the Yorubas’) is informed by balance and the spirit of “live and let
live” or what the Igbo proverb “egbe belu ugo belu” means,23 as Nnaemeka further
argues (99), the same is called to question by the continued practice of the Osu caste
22 Although Achebe makes this statement/clarification in relation to Okonkwo, the central character of his novel,
Things Fall Apart, and Umuofia, the fictional Igbo society in which the story is set, the sense is applicable to
Otaelo and Umuagu in Otaelo.
23 Achebe explains the same proverb as “let the kite perch and let the eagle perch.”
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system, which is based on clearly-defined system of segregation and marginalization

of people of certain birth and status in the aforementioned communities in present-day
Igbo society.
In this section of the thesis, I examined Otaelo from the perspective of the
Yoruba belief in ori (fate/destiny), and concluded that the conditions of the
marginalized and the minority group, either in Nigeria or elsewhere across the globe,
cannot be read as ori. It is not the fate/destiny of the marginalized (the Osu are
actually a minority group in Igboland), to be pushed to the margin of existence in their
country. I also alluded to the Igbo people’s ongoing agitation for the Republic of
Biafra in Nigeria, and emphasized the danger in such an agitation; of creating
artificial boundaries where none exists and making enemies of people who are friends
and neighbours, and concluded that the Igbo at home are either being deceived or not
been told the whole truth by the Igbos in the diaspora who are spearheading the
agitation. In making this conclusion, I do not hope to question the justification of the
agitation for a new “nation” out of Nigeria, but to draw attention to the most difficult
aspect of it, which is making it to work, coupled with the horrific violence that will
accompany its actualization, as we have already witnessed in the last few years.
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Davlin Thomas’s Lear Ananci
Laalu gb’ode!: Esu, politics, and the aesthetics of transformation24
“Who is it that can tell me who I am?”
(Shakespeare, Lear, 1.4.230).
“I am king here, for there is none worse here than I’’
(Thomas 12).
Lear Ananci adds a new dimension to this discussion of Orisa-Shakespeare by its

creative blend of folktale with history in order to use Shakespeare to address the
socio-political failures in its society. Unlike the other texts that I have analysed in this
thesis, Lear Ananci explicitly shows that the Yoruba storytelling tradition is still
relevant to address contemporary issues.25 This folkloric tradition focuses on the
activities of the trickster figure, “one god whose activities encompass both the divine
and the secular spheres, and the other an animal, who operates in the mundane and
fanciful world of the imagination” (Owomoyela 1989:166).26 Written by Davlin
Thomas and first performed at the University of West Indies in 2000, Lear Ananci
won the Cacique Award for “the Most Original Script” from the National Drama
Association of Trinidad and Tobago the same year. However, not much has been
written about the play since its publication in 2010. As at the time of writing this
24 Laalu gb’ode! (Esu is on rampage!). “Esu Laalu ogiri oko” is one of the numerous oriki of Esu among the
Yoruba in Nigeria.
25 In Chapter Three, my play Emi, Caesar! also utilizes this same storytelling tradition .
26 While there is a thin line between itan and alo, two of the categories of narratives among the Yoruba, Lear
Ananci merges the two. While itan are historical and factual accounts, alo are basically fictional constructs
“dramatizing” human foibles, in which, as Olatunji contends, the storyteller demarcates from reality, a coherent
fictional world in which standards of normal behaviour may not operate (20).
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section, only one article, Giselle Rampaul’s “Caribbean Tricksters at crossroads:

Davlin Thomas’s Lear Ananci and Hamlet: the Eshu Experience” (2013), has
discussed the play but not from the Orisa-Shakespeare perspective. Nevertheless, the
play offers another perspective to how the Yoruba use Shakespeare to examine their
own social reality.
Lear Ananci tells the story of King Lear, the desperate ruler of Malick, a
fictitious country that represents the playwright’s country, Trinidad and Tobago, who
perverts the process of political power by literally devouring his friend and
predecessor, King Henry. This perversion has its effect on him: he becomes insane,
bites off his butcher’s fingers, flouts the law which says monarchs should remain
childless and fathers three daughters from three different women whom he names his
childen after, divides his kingdom arbitrarily among his daughters and banishes the
youngest, Cordelia, who is also affected by her father’s insanity and acts irrationally.
Another story that runs parallel to King Lear’s, centres on the conflict between
Gloucester’s two sons, Edgar and Edmund, over filial rights to their father’s land.
While Edgar insists that the land is his because he is Gloucester’s legitimate son,
Edmund thinks the land is his own by virtue of being the first son, and Gloucester
fears that Edgar might kill him if he reads Oedipus Rex. The play uses the stories of
Lear and Gloucester’s family to interrogate the assumptions surrounding the
legitimacy of power and public office, as well as the problem of self-perpetuation that
are rampant in Caribbean politics.
Specifically, Lear Ananci dramatizes the morbid socio-political situation in

Trinidad and Tobago, and shows how the same symptoms are found in the whole of
Caribbean politics. Lear Ananci also dramatizes the effect of “mental slavery caused
by blind, corrupt, impotent governments and political systems” as well as the
problems posed by “the Caribbean multiple and intersecting cultural influences.” The
play also indicts Shakespeare by reviving his characters as metaphor for continued
colonial influence on Trinidadian politics, and reveals that “the issues of legitimacy,
right, corruption, power and responsibility” that are relevant in Shakespeare’s time are
still relevant today (Rampaul 317). As an example of socio-political activities that
undermine the growth of Trinidad and Tobago (and the Caribbean), Alain Maurin et
al, in what they term “Hidden Economy,” uncover how public office holders and
influential citizens (politicians) engage in economic activities where a large
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percentage of workers who earn low incomes are forced to use rudimentary
equipment, and work outside the framework of the laws and regulations thereby
making it possible to evade tax. People who pay taxes regularly are discouraged by
the inferior quality of social services that the government provide. As a result, they
seek satisfaction from private establishments, which also take advantage of
government’s failure in order to cheat their clients (Maurin et al 6-12). These
activities encourage corruption and engender renewed ethnic fragmentation due to
mistrust among the people.Such negative impacts occur in spite of the oil boom in the
country and the thriving petroleum economy which should ordinarily translate into
positive economic changes for the country’s people. It is these kinds of postcolonial
political failure and despair that Lear Ananci addresses through the lens of the Yoruba
epistemology and aesthetic principles as represented by the Orisa.
In Trinidad and Tobago, Orisa worship is known as Shango (Sango), the name
of one of the principal male deities on the Orisa pantheon, whereas Lear Ananci
utilizes and gives prominence to Esu, another orisa of equal calibre as Sango. This
choice is not a misnomer, an eewo (sacrilege) as the Yoruba would describe it. Rather,
the choice of orisa signification is both an understanding of the relationship between
Sango and Esu in terms of what both deities share in common and how that
correspondence can be useful to address the socio-political failures in the society.
The relationship between Sango and Esu can be explained in many ways. For
examples, they are both connected to Ile Ogere (Mother/Sacred Earth): while Sango is
identified with nature, environment and productivity; Esu is intimately connected to
the orita-meta (crossroads), the place of conflict, despair and other complexity of
meaning that the deity symbolizes. While King Lear possesses Sango’s attribute as a
king, emperor, empire builder and promiscuous lover whose renown partly rests on
sexual conquests; Ananci displays the attributes of Esu, the unassuming partner of
Orunmila, the orisa that symbolizes prescient wisdom. Ananci uses the orita-meta as
a point of metaphoric interaction with the other characters and especially to interpret
both the events being dramatized and show Lear as the symbolic representation of
Trinidad and Tobago politics.
While the above is a general introduction of the play and the example of a
specific political situation that it addresses, specifically, its narrative style and ritual
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dimensions both show that it uses and deviates from Shakespeare at the same time.
The entire story of Lear Ananci is presented as a folktale told by Ananci/Anansi, a
mythical spider-figure that was originally from Akan, Ghanainan mythology, whose
personality is later morphed into Esu, and whose presence in the Caribbean is bound
up with the history of the trans-Atlantic Slave Trade (Ashcroft et al 35). As Donna
Rosenberg writes, the spider or Anansi (Ananci) also assumes human characteristics
in those tales. While human society is the domain of the fictional world that Anansi
rules, he also symbolizes both the complexity of the human nature and “the creative
aspect of human intelligence even as he reveals the fact that deception, greed,
suffering and death are inherent part of the human condition [as much as it is] part of
human nature to harm others” (Rosenberg7-8); thus, Ananci expresses the people’s
keen sense of human nature in a cultural environment where morality and justice are
important values.
Among the Yoruba the assumption is that storytellers understand the power of
the word, the punning and verbal play that characterize the trope, including its
efficacy to address germane issues. Yoruba storytellers often consider their audience
to be “children” irrespective of their age because the stories that they tell usually
acquire a didactic dimension beyond entertainment. In his first appearance in the play,
Ananci assumes this role of a storyteller, “Come children, Ananci have a story; the
story of a man called Lear…the story began quite simply. Lear was at Henry’s
bedside constantly, and I, on his wall listening attentively” (6-8). Ananci uses the
introduction to draw attention to himself, as customary of the storyteller among the
Yoruba.
Although Lear Ananci’s use of the storytelling device is a demonstration of

the author’s own sense of inherited Yoruba tradition, the aesthetic device also recalls
Shakespeare’s approach in some of his plays such as Pericles, Cymbeline, The
Winter’s Tale, including King Lear where he uses the narrative pattern of fairy tales.
As Laurie Maguire contends, in this invariable fairy tale pattern, there is always a
good character that is undervalued; ignored or banished; passes a test or tests, marries
the hero (ine) and they live happily ever after. However, Shakespeare often shatters
the expectation of a reconciliation and a happy ending by going beyond the verbal
confines of his plays, to providing an acute observation about the human conditions,
and forces his audience to reflect about the infirmities of age and the meaning of life,
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so that “art [can truly hold] the mirror up to nature in the most realistic and painful
way possible” (Maguire 184-5). While the storytelling device represents Thomas’s
utilization of the Yoruba aesthetic tradition that he has inherited, the fact Shakespeare
also uses a similar trope in his own plays, shows how Shakespeare is used to make
something new.
The storytelling device assumes a ritual dimension however through Yoruba

form of symbolism through its plot structure. This is achieved with the use of the eeta
motif. Ordinarily, eeta/meta means “three,” which features prominently in all aspects
of Yoruba ritual because it is associated with “ase” (the power to make things happen)
controlled by Esu. According to Lawal, “three” is also the sign of “agbara” that is,
dynamic power in its physical and metaphysical dimensions. While the phrase “Fi eeji
kun eeta” that is, to put two and three together, is the Yoruba idiom for making up
one’s mind, eeji (two) is a sign of balance and equilibrium, that is foregrounded by
the “threeness” of eeta/eta (Lawal 44).The entire story of Lear Ananci is presented in
three related plots: a televised news item; a play-within-a-play, and Ananci (the
storyteller)’s performance as the Shakespearean Fool, while actions in the three plots
take place in Malick, an imaginary society that stands for Trinidad and Tobago (and
the Caribbean as a whole.
The first plot, which is a televised broadcast, describes the strange bomb that
explodes in the Parliament in Trinidad’s capital, Port of Spain, while a debate on the
Equal Opportunities Bill is in progress. The after-effect of the bomb explosion is
complete amnesia suffered by the Parliamentarians. A character in the play, Professor
Reinhart, tells us, “The key to any possibility of explanation for this phenomenon lies
with the fact that no members of parliament seem to be able to recognize or
acknowledge any components of reality” (3). This situation forces everyone to turn to
Ananci “who we think is the embodiment of the Caribbean people” (4), and who
claims to be equal to the task of both narrating and interpreting the unfolding
situation, “From my place on the castle wall I studied the positions and for what it’s
worth I’ll share my observations with you” (8), of what is happening in Trinidad and
Tobago, and the Caribbean as a whole.
While the bombing in the capital city sets off the conflict(s) in the play in this
first part, it also shows how the fictional story in the play connects to specific
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historical events in Trinidad and Tobago. The play uses the reference to “the Capital
city of the Port of Spain” and “The Red House which has been bombed” (2), to show
this connection between fiction and history.The Red House is the historical House of
Parliament building located in the Port of Spain, the capital city. The bombing of the
Red House in the play recalls the Water Riots of 1903 when the Red House, painted
earlier in 1897 to celebrate the Diamond Jubilee of Queen Victoria, was burnt down
while a debate was going on in the Legislative Council. The burning occurred as a
reaction over increase in water rates, and the protests which accompanied the arrest of
a woman in the aftermath of the bombing. The government’s intervention led to the
death of at least sixteen (16) people (See; Mavrogordato 1979, 2008). Lear Ananci
alludes to that historical incident through the bombing in the play. A character in the
play, Professor Reinhart tells us, “I’m afraid the situation here today is very much as
before…Parliament was in session when bombing occurred” (2). The incident also
shows how the play links the colonial past with contemporary events. Professor
Reinhartsays, “the bomb itself caused a fusion of time, physical space and
consciousness that has endured the persons and the event itself” (4); and by recalling
this particular incident, Lear Ananci leaves no one in doubt as to its concern with
history.
The second plot, also called the Ghostly play, is presented in the form of a
play-within-a-play. It is the central point of reference and most developed plotline in
the play. All the principal characters are also introduced here, and the thematic
concern of the play is extended beyond Trinidad to the West Indies, “The entire
spectacle takes a total of about two hours, then all players disappear to reappear
elsewhere in the Caribbean” (5). It is here also that Lear takes the crown as the King
of Malick after devouring his friend and incumbent, King Henry.27 The conflict
between Cordelia and her sisters, Regan and Goneril over Lear’s estate; and the war
between Gloucester’s sons, Edgar and Edmund, over their father’s title and property
are also presented here. At the end of the scenes, Ananci who boasts of being capable
27 Although Thomas does not dwell so much on King Henry since the play is about Lear, the political situation in
the Caribbean that the play dramatizes invites us to view Henry’s character as being modelled after the historical
Haitian leader, Henry Christophe. The trajectory of Henry Christophe’s life reflects the eeta symbolism: first a
leader in the war of Haitian independence from 1791--1804; later the president from 1807--11; and finally self-
proclaimed King Henry 1, of northern Haiti from 1811--20. On the one hand, Henry’s ruthless approach to
acquiring power is comparable to the way rulers of Malick acquire power by devouring their predecessors in Lear
Ananci, and the way they transform state power into personal property is also reminiscent of how historical King
Henry created a hereditary nobility to serve his hunger and thirst for power. On the other hand, King Henry’s and
Lear’s flamboyant lifestyle in the play echoes historical Henry’s who used elaborate state apparatus to support his
overblown image.
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of handling the situation is rendered helpless, and overwhelmed by what he terms “the
baggage of passing” (16), that is, the burden of guilt shared by all the characters.
In the third plotline, Ananci steps into the role of the Shakespearean Fool and
relate the situation specifically to Trinidad, and to the Caribbean in general. He
reminds elected officials of their primary duty: that they are meant to serve their
people whom they represent, “the experience of the many are determined by the will
of the great few” (52). Ananci laments that the reverse is the case; all he could see are
“bleed[ing] hopes, and perspire[ing] dreams [which] become grey as black life is
drained from the hair” (51), which are metaphors forleadership failure at every level.
Ananci fails in his task as the Shakespearean Fool. Garber explains that the
Fool in King Lear represents the body and self-preservation voice of common sense
and practical wisdom, a figure of infinite value in the court where he reminds Lear of
his folly through wit and gesture (674). In the “season of madness” (26) where reason
is lost to irrationality, Ananci is overwhelmed and can no longer understand the
situation. Professor Reinhart tells us that, “Ananci is not yet in control of his destiny
and he recognizes that” (43), although Ananci consoles himself by saying, “All of
mankind are slaves beaten by the whips of time” (51). Consequently, the Announcer
in the televised section of the play asks, “Professor, do you think that the members of
Parliament will ever be in touch with our reality?”(67), to which the stage directions
read, “She waits, but he does not respond.” Instead, the television set switches off to
signify the end of the play in the midst of “more thunder than ever” (67), which
suggests that there is no end in sight yet for solution to the social crisis that the play
dramatizes.
From the foregoing, Ananci’s thought can be described as a reflection of the

crossroads (the orita-meta), suggests confusion and the socio-political failings in the
society. Obviously this situation captures the sad reality that the play dramatizes in
terms of the multiple issues of slavery, colonialism and the continuation of despair, if
we go by the Yoruba description of the crossroads as “Orita-meta tii n daamu alejo”
(crossroads as the point of turbulence, confusion and despair), or what another
character in the play, Edgar, calls “the season of madness” (26), that the failure of
postcolonial leadership in Trinidad and Tobago has come to represent for the people.
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Ananci, in utilizing the orita-meta, assumes the personality of Esu, the

presiding orisa of the crossroads. Aiyejina describes Esu as “a divine trickster, a
disguise-artist and shape-shifter” (10). In drawing from Esu’s attributes, Ananci also
returns to his initial role as the trickster figure. Tricksters’ acts, we are reminded by
Priebe, are rarely impulsive but often well-defined and purposely channelled towards
a specific goal in the tales that he told (130). The trickster is not only a popular hero,
but his triumph in those tales are due to “shrewdness and cunning…steadiness and
industriousness, as in European tales” (Bascom 482); his actions usually “directed
toward the achievement of a well-defined end [because] he knows socially accepted
values even when he behaves contrary to them [since] he is no wise the source of
them” (Melville and Herskovits 101), as much as he interprets them.
As the orisa closest to his Western counterpart, Hermes, or hermeneutics, in

metaphoric terms, Esu performs the task of interpretation as Orunmila’s partner in the
Yoruba Ifa divination process, as Ananci does by interpreting actions and events to us
in this play. Esu as the “tunfunalo” (Interpreter of riddles) lends himself effectively to
the task/act of interpretation, to “itumo” (to untie or unknot knowledge), or to
“yipada” (to turn around or to translate), the task that stories are meant to perform in
regard to social discourse (Gates 688). Let us recall that in the previous chapter of this
thesis where I developed a theory of analysis, I presented an oval image of the Opon
Ifa (Divination tray) at the apex of which is the symbolic image of Esu. According to
the understanding offered to some aspects of Yoruba iconography and visual
aesthetic, Esu’s image on the Opon Ifa is neither accidental nor fortuitous. The oral
and visual itan that both the divination and the iconography represent, is an essential
discourse that is both evocative and provocative (Lawal 2001:498-526); and suggests
as well that the Yoruba climate was and is still characterized by a dialogic ethos (Yai
31-5). The lines drawn on the Opon Ifa during divination “represent the intersection
of cosmic realms at the metaphoric crossroads” over which Esu presides (Drewal et al
23). Just as Esu performs his task of interpretation in the Ifa divination process,
Ananci also gets involved in, and interprets, the actions and situations in this play.
Ananci’s shape-shifting can also be explained from the perspective of what

Aiyejina terms the “bacchanal aesthetics.” According to Aiyejina, bacchanal
aesthetics is the aesthetics of the crossroads “the melting point of possibilities: the old
and the new interpretations” (23), that clearly represents the realities of a morbid
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condition. Lear also tells us in the play that indeed, his bacchanal aesthetics deals with
“old” and “new” experiences, “the bacchanal in Malick is the war of my head. My
shame, my daughters, my wretched society at its worst” (57). Thus, the bacchanal
aesthetic here examines despair that cuts across the realities of enslavement and
colonisation and the perpetuation of its legacies by Trinidadians against themselves
through exploitation and seeming cultural deracination by their drifting apart from
each other due to hatred.In these three narrative strands, Lear Ananci follows and
diverges from Shakespeare at the same time.
Having introduced the play, let us now closely examine some specific
situations that are relevant to our purpose. There are a number of key moments where
Lear Ananci dramatizes the breakdown of ethical values and the conflict in Malick. I
refer to these points as “Esu moments,” or what Soyinka also describes as the “Esu-
harassed day” (Soyinka 1975:9), in terms of when Esu performs his “divine task of
putting humanity to the test” (Aiyejina 15). I identify three of such “Esu moments”
which also reflect the eeta motif and the orita-meta symbolism. The first “Esu
moment” occurs when Lear devours Henry (8-12); the second “Esu moment” occurs
when Cordelia discovers how her father, Lear, became king of Malick (17-35); and
the third “Esu moment” occurs when Edmund sets Gloucester against Edgar (35-54),
respectively.
In the first “Esu moment” which occurs at King Henry’s bedside, Lear is put
to the test by Esu. Here, Ananci represents Esu (let us keep in mind Ananci’s ability
to transform which I mentioned earlier on) and looks on unconcerned as Lear sits
impatiently waiting for Henry to die so that he can take the crown. In this case, we
are looking at Esu, the deity who manipulates emotion and tests human mental
ability to assess situation and make the right decision. Yoruba understanding is that
at such a moment, Esu presents the individual with choice but remains impartial and
unpertubed by whatever the individual decides to do although Esu will not hesistate
to exact a punishment afterwards, if the decision brings about some form of trouble
of failure.
In this scene, Ananci watches as Lear struggles to control both his hatred for
Henry and eagerness to seize the crown. When a servant brings water for Henry to
drink, Lear whispers, “I pray he trips and dies while getting the water. Heaven knows
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I’ll eat his rotting body along with Henry’s”. But after waiting for a while he
exclaims, “Lord! Why doesn’t Henry die?” Getting increasingly impatient that Henry
“refuses” to die, Lear suddenly pounce on and devours him. As the stage direction
reads, “Lear bites off a finger…bites Henry’s face, and dives for the throat. Blood is
sprayed upon Lear’s white clothing. Lear stands bloody and alone, chewing the last
of Henry, he stares at the audience madly” (8-11). Unable to control his desires, Lear
obviously fails Esu’s test.However, after seizing the crown in such a brutal fashion,
he also tries to perpetuate himself in office. The politics of bitterness demonstrated
by the two characters shows the negative effect of “sit-tightism” (tendency for self-
perpetuation), which also accommodates patrimonialism
According to Max Weber, patrimonialism refers to an office that lacks all the
bureaucratic separation of the “private” and “official” sphere. In this system,
“political administration is treated as a purely personal affair of the ruler, and
political power is considered part of his personal property…the office and the
exercise of public authority serve the ruler and the official on which office was
bestowed; they do not serve impersonal purposes” (Weber 128-9). The system of
political power acquisition and its deployment that Lear Ananci dramatizes is similar
to what Weber describes and it does not serve the people. As Ananci informs the
audience, “the court is full of pretenses, the lies…here men can lie and tell the truth
both at the same time like telling a beggar that you’ll end his hunger and then you
shoot him dead” (12). Patrimonialism is similar to autocracy, which the system of
power acquisition in Malick also clearly subscribes to; “the country is the ruler’s
estate and the state apparatus is ultimately his to use at his own discretion” (Hyden
99). The end-product of this system is tyranny which grows out of an impulsive and
oppressive rule that considers political office as a private property. The way Lear
acquires public properties which he shares arbitrarily among his children underscores
this point.
In that particular scene which I describe above, although Ananci pretends to

be neutral and detached, he silently instigates Lear’s action psychologically.
Ananci’s seeming detachment and silence illustrate Esu’s indifference and reluctance
to destroy the bad and the malevolent so that the good remain because he is aware of
the positive aspects of both sides of human action and emotion, or what the Yoruba
call “Tibi tire” (Good and bad are inseparable companion). Instead of intervening,
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Esu allows people to make their choice but alsoremind them of the consequences
(Falola 6). In this particular scene, Lear fails to apply self-restraint which Esu
preaches, a fact the Yoruba also recognize hence the saying, “Esu ma se ‘mi, omo
elomiran ni o se” (Esu, do not tempt me or make me fall into errors; tempt others). In
Lear’s case, Esu redefines the meaning of ethics, “lures the powerful [Lear] to
commit transgression [and] expects maximum sanctions” (Falola 10). The sanctions
manifest in the form of insanity although Lear achieves his aim of becoming the
king.
The cannibalism that constitutes the process of kinship clearly shows that the
political process in Trinidad is flawed. It also shows complete departure from the
Yoruba crowning system. Kinkead-Weekes contends that the Yoruba crowning
system and the assumption of office by a traditional ruler entails a process of
dismantling, of fragmentation out of which “growth” expectedly emerges. At a
king’s transition, his demise signifies fragmentation of essence, of destruction to the
spiritual body that his position represents; the vacuum is filled by another person
after undergoing initiation into the mysteries in which case, his ascendancy signifies
renewal, fertility and growth. In that entire process we have “a visionary idea of
transformation, linking of man with divine power and forging radiant form out of
chaotic opposition” (234-5). That is why, at the demise of a king among the Yoruba,
one does not say “A King is dead” but “The King has joined his ancestors” or “The
King sleeps.” In this play however, the Yoruba sanctified process is replaced by a
perverted version---a horrific act of cannibalism, stench and abuse of office. As
Ananci tells the audience while introducing the nature of Malick’s political system:
When a king did die, the person who became the next king, was
the one most willing to eat the rotting carcus [carcass] of the
last, with salt; he had to suck the dead king’s bones free of its
juices and belch loudly in celebration of having devoured the
stinking flesh…would-be kings practised slurping on dead
men’s intestines like children feasting on the season’s first
mango. (7-8)
Lear Ananci uses Lear’s assumption of office through this perverted process to
highlight two of the major problems with Trinidad and Caribbean politics: how
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society destroys itself by giving power to over-ambitious individuals in an equally

flawed system of power acquisition, and how power-hungry individuals go to any
length to acquire it. In Malick, the system allows antisocial perpetrations at the
highest level to go unchecked at the detriment of the society:
[…], men grew horns according to their behaviour; the worst

behaved had the largest horns, while the best behaved were
properly horned. Women’s horns remained unseen, located in a
most private place. They could commit murder and still
maintain a spotless forehead...such was the politics of Malick
which had become overwhelmed with men who grew large
horns but had painfully broken them off to hide their ill
intentions. (7)
The effect of the perversion is seen when Lear challenges the divine right of kings,
“What the ass is this divine right business and how does one come about it?” (35),
and bear children contrary to the rule that says monarchs should not have children.
Considering that the essence of a throne in a Yoruba community is continuity and
growth, the rule that Thomas creates in his adaptation is a misnomer, which suggests
faulty leadership in Trinidad and Tobago. In this case, the first “Esu moment” is a
commentary on the adaptation’s society.
The perverted process of Lear’s acquisition of power has its consequences,

“The eating of the last king’s festering corpse was by no means a test but the
beginning of a long squalid journey” (8). The imagery of violence and cannibalism is
presented in many scenes in the play: Lear refers to ravens, blood-suckers and flesh-
eaters and the likes; he thinks his daughters are going to devour him; Edmund kills
Cordelia’s bodyguard; Cordelia is also hanged (54-7). Lear also recognizes the fact
that he is the chief-protagonist of the squalid journey, “I am king here, for there is
none worse here than I’’ (12). While Lear symbolizes what is wrong with the society,
the scene also suggests that the people are complicit in their own failure and
impoverishment. This is suggested through the Sailors and dancers who celebrate
Lear’s ascension to the throne with fanfare (12), even though they are aware of the
flawed system that brought him to power.
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In the second “Esu moment” we have Ananci playing the role of Esu who
toys with people’s emotion in order to set them up. Ananci meets Cordelia whose
portrayal also diverges from Shakespeare’s. When Cordelia enquires about her
father, Ananci does not give a straight-forward answer, but only tells her enough to
whet her appetite to know more. She is thus persuaded look for him at the castle
where she is not supposed to go in the first place:
Cordelia: Fool?
Ananci: Yes
Cordelia: Where’s my father?
Ananci: big question.
Cordelia: Eh?
Ananci: Would you like to know where your father is, or do you
prefer to know where he thinks he is? If it’s the latter, I must tell
you Cordelia that you should not go there.
Cordelia: Why?
Ananci: Because it is an insane place.
Cordelia: Fool.
Ananci: Yes.
Cordelia: I want to know where my father is.
Ananci: Honestly?
Cordelia: Sincerely
Ananci: Lear is where Lear is and no amount of thinking can change

that.
Cordelia: Where?
Ananci: Why in his own head.
Cordelia: And where is Lear’s head?
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Ananci: You really are the best of the bunch. Governor plum,
King Lear’s head is in the chapel and the Chapel is in King
Lear’s head. It’s the first time in a while that both he and his
head are in the same place...at the same time (exits. Cordelia
goes to find Lear). (13-4)
Ananci’s cynical response to Cordelia’s question--- a silly rant from the Fool as it
seems--- is also part of Esu’s way of putting humanity to the test through
words/actions that initially appear to be illogical and/or nonsensical. Esu “engages in
both a dialectical relationship with those who encounter him” even as he manipulates
dialogue which he controls and resolves on his own terms (Falola 11). In this case,
Esu wants the listeners to fathom the sense contained in the dialogue on their own
terms, even though he also wants them to do his bidding. Cordelia does exactly what
Esu/Ananci would expect: she goes to the chapel to find Lear, sees him clutching his
left foot with a missing toe that he claims was “devoured” and appears to be insane
(15). Visibly shaken by the sight, Cordelia returns in the following scene and insists
that Ananci tells her what he knows about her father. Ananci warns her about the
knowledge she seeks and how it can both shock and devastate her but she insists:
Ananci: Whose baggage are you requesting?
Cordelia: My father’s
Ananci: Lear’s baggage? Heavy, heavy burdensome load
Cordelia: was it painful?
Ananci: oh yes. Yes indeed and not for every back
Cordelia: Please tell me.
Ananci: I shouldn’t.
Cordelia: why not Fool?
Ananci: the Burden would become yours and I’m afraid

your...back seems inadequate. (16-7)
Ananci describes everybody’s (mis)demeanour as “baggage” which accumulate and

they bear while on earth. He also considers the secrets that Cordelia wants to acquire
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about Lear as part of his (Lear)’s baggage and thinks it’s too heavy for her to bear.
But she insists on knowing. When he finally whispers into her ears, she is shocked
and slumps to the ground (18). From that point, Cordelia changes her attitude
towards Lear. She decides not to say anything while he divides his kingdom among
his daughters:
Lear: Fairest Cordelia, what do you say?
Cordelia: Nothing.
Lear: Nothing?
Cordelia: Nothing.
Lear: Nothing? Then, nothing will come of nothing. (He grabs

her by the arm) out! Out! Stinking suzie, pretty pretty, upsetting
smell!!!
Goneril: he’s going mad.
Regan: going mad, he was mad. He’s either sane now or much
worse. (25-6)
As Ananci predicts, Cordelia is saddled with Lear’s “baggage” to the extent that she
begins a gradual process of transformation like Esu but, in her case, it is a descent
from honour to dishonour, compassion to aggression; she turns from the
compassionate young lady that we meet at the beginning of the play into a brutal and
callous (wo)man who declares war on her two sisters: Goneril and Regan, whom she
heard are planning to kill their father, “Your sisters heard that Lear went to
Gloucester to shelter...they are going to kill him” (34). In response to her sisters’
threat, she raises an army to disrupt their plans and possibly kill them. She also
orders the palace guards and soldiers to pick up arms against anyone who opposes
Lear’s monarchy, although she also says she hates him because of the brutal fashion
in which he seizes the crown.
Cordelia is different from her Shakespeare counterpart in terms of the brutal

manner in which she responds to opposition to Lear’s authority in Malick.Unlike
Shakespeare’s Cordelia whose “tongue-tied love conceals (and so reveals) true
emotion” (Maguire 40-1), the Cordelia that we are presented in Lear Ananci revels in
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irrationality and violence. She is also different to the way the Yoruba perceive their
women as the symbol of “ero” (coolness/compassion) which is an essential aspect of
the female principle. Although at first Cordelia rejects her father when she becomes
aware of how he is enthroned, “What could I say to such a man? I’ve unmasked the
devil and found that he is my father...from this day forth, all that King Lear shall hear
from me...is silence” (18); she turns around later, requesting for weapon to crush any
opposition to his monarchy (35). She insists that her father is divinely chosen to rule,
“despite the difference with him, we [will return] King Lear to his rightful place on
the throne” (35), and commands the palace guards to assemble and be ready to fight
and die to ensure her father seizes the crown. At that point in time, Ananci is confused
and wonders aloud, “What a contrary woman. You refuse to speak to your father
because of the horrible way in which he became king. Now you’re more than
[willing] to fight to the death to give him back the ignominious throne” (35). By birth
and association with Lear, Cordelia’s humanity is “destroyed”-- her sense of
womanhood and compassion is replaced by uncanny cruelty and sadistic temperament
similar to her sisters. She speaks unabashedly (15, 35), does not hesitate to mete out
punishment on her father’s subjects or push them beyond their limits (53). Thus,
Thomas’s reworking of Cordelia can readily be seen as an indictment of his society.
The Yoruba saying, “Omo t’eya ba bi, eya lo maa jo” (The baboon can only
produce its own species) or “Omo t’aye ba bi, l’aye ngbe jo” meaning circumstance of
birth often determines temperament, or even more specifically, society produces its
own kind of people, describes Cordelia in the context of the play. More so because,
like her sisters, Cordelia is the product of Lear’s violation of Malick’s irrational
social/cultural/spiritual law which stipulates that monarchs should not raise children,
whereas his affair with three different women produced three daughters named after
their mothers. Lear, in changing that status quo, also does it in the most immoral form
possible in a strict Yoruba sense---the women are mistresses and not legal wives, and
“each as arrogant as the court itself” (12). The law, a creation of Thomas, negates the
real essence of the spiritual signification of the throne or even the way the Yoruba
perceive life wherein marriage and procreation are a system of continuity. Lear’s
ascension to the throne through a perverted, albeit, horrific cannibalistic process,
suggests the kind of person that Cordelia could possibly grow up to become, knowing
that she is the product of a spiritually and mentally polluted person. Thus, Cordelia is
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presented as the most vivid example of how the perversion of the political process
impacts negatively on individuals in the society.
What Lear Ananci also presents in Lear and Cordelia’s relationship beyond
the father—daughter configuration is the perversion of the ako a t’abo (male/female)
principle, which indicates a breakdown of both cosmic and mundane sense of order
that governs the castle, the seat of power and Malick as a society. There is thus a
dangerous alliance between Lear and Cordelia especially because Lear’s “ako” with
which Cordelia’s “ero” should have a correspondence has been fouled when he,
“places his mouth securely upon Malick’s anus and sucks hard...and then belch[es]
loudly in celebration of having devoured stinking flesh” (7-8), thereby polluting the
air and throwing the society into dis-equilibrum.
The third “Esu moment” show how we can understand the play as an
indictment of the colonialists in the socio-political failure in the Caribbean. Although
Lear Ananci holds Trinidadian (and Caribbean) leadership responsible for the failures
that characterize postcolonial socio-political life in that region, it also indicts
Shakespeare (colonialists) in Caribbean affairs, through Shakespeare’s characters
from King Lear that it retains: Gloucester and his two sons, Edmund and Edgar who
are used to dramatize this particular point. These Shakespearean characters’ actions
recall the brutal economic and political activities of British companies in the West
Indies. These companies: the Company of Royal Adventurers Trading into Africa
(and the West Indies) and its successor, Royal Africa Company, controlled economic
activities, especially Sugar, Sugarcane and Slavery (the three ‘S’), from around the
1660-1698. After the British also camethe Portuguese, the Dutch and France. The
French Company of the West Indies was established in 1664 prior to officially seizing
what has come to be known as “French-Caribbean” shortly before the abolition of the
trans-Atlantic Slave Trade (Dunn 1972; Heuman 15-6). In the play, both Edgar and
Edmund fight over the land, swear to kill each other and claim divine right over it.
Ananci comments on this brutal exchange between the “colonial” characters when he
assumes the role of the Shakespearean Fool.
The “Esu moment” here deals withEsu’s call to people that an attitude of mind
must necessarily be cultivated to create a situation where they are not led into
assuming (encouraging/doing) what they cannot control; that is, the temptations to
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engage in self-destructive acts (Falola 14). Esu’s role as the orisa who whispers into
the human mind to cause confusion is shown at play here. Edmund, who had earlier
been disowned by his father, manipulates him to believe that Edgar is planning to kill
him. When Gloucester, worried that he has not seen Edgar for a while, wonders if he
has gone back to the library because he loves reading, Edmund quickly tells him that
Edgar is actually reading the story of Oedipus. He reminds Gloucester of how
Oedipus killed his father. Gloucester suddenly becomes afraid thinking Edgar plans to
kill him (19-22). Edmund succeeds in pitching Gloucester against Edgar. While
Gloucester proposes to banish Edgar, Edmund suggests, “He has to die. Banish him
and like Oedipus he will return to sever your head. He must die” (22). As with
Shakespeare’s characters, Gloucester thinks Edmund is helping him to get rid of his
problem, but cannot see that Edmund is acting in self-interest.
Gloucester tells Edmund howhe was abandoned by his mother, “the blasted
woman” who left him (Edmund) at his doorstep with a note, “illegitimate relations
bring legitimate guilt in swaddling garment” (20). Gloucester insists that Edmund’s
claim to his (Gloucester) property is unfounded and baseless. Edmund thinks “this
bastard thing” is “like the wind you never know it’s there until it affects you”; he
decides to fight for his right as the first son, “I will master the wind; I will be the
legitimate illegitimate” (22-3). Edmund also accuses Gloucester of killing his own
father to become Earl (21), and trying to rob him (Edmund) of legitimate claim to
land and property in favour of Edgar, who also swears to do anything to claim the
contested land, “This land is mine. It is my divine right...because it belonged to my
forefathers, God knows they fought the devil for it” (30). Meanwhile, Lear watches
them from a distance and plans to outwit the family, “like Raven they wait on my
throne...I need to...to give them a share before they devour me...give them a small
corner to govern, dull their ambition...whet their carnivorous appetite” (23). In order
to outwit his father and brother, Edgar aligns with Lear. The conflict involving the
Shakespearean characters and Lear’s with his people are not resolved. In fact, what is
suggested at the “end” of the play is that the actors have returned to the point where
they started, even as the situation that is dramatized reflects what happened in the
Caribbean past, “I’m afraid the situation here today is very much the same as before”
(65).While Lear Ananci depicts Lear’s flawed process of ascension to Malick’s throne
as a metaphor for the dystopia in Trinidad & Tobago, the conflict involving the
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Shakespearean characters shows the negative effect of external interference in the

country’s politics and Caribbean socio-political system in general.
In this section of the thesis, I argued that Lear Ananci uses the Yoruba
storytelling tradition through the Ananci/Esu archetype to examine the postcolonial
political failures in Trinidad and Tobago and the Caribbean as a whole. The play also
uses a number of Shakespearean characters to illustrate the adverse effect of
continued colonial influence on the Caribbean society.
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Djanet Sears’ Harlem Duet
Crying foul and ‘legitimizing’ the discontent of an Omo ale28
“Ibi ori da’ni si la a gbe”
[Wherever fate determines is home(land)].
--- Yoruba proverb---
“I think [Othello] is racist, and I think it is not. But Othello’s

example shows me that if I insist on resolving the contradiction,
I will forge only lies and distortions […] the discourse of racial
difference is inescapably embedded in this play just as it was
embedded in Shakespeare’s culture and our own.”
(Mason Vaughan 70).
In this section, I examine Djanet Sears’ acclaimed 1997 play Harlem Duet from a
Yoruba perspective, focusing in particular on the play’s dramatization of orirun.
Orirun is defined in more detail below, but generally speaking it refers to identity and
a sense of affiliation or belonging. Previous scholarship on Harlem Duet, and Sears
herself, have discussed the play in terms of identity and belonging, but never from a
specifically Yoruba point of view---even though Sears travelled extensively in Africa
before writing the play, and explicitly embraces African dramaturgy in her other
works. This section extends existing scholarship on Harlem Duet by looking at Billie
and Othello’s struggle for belonging from the framework of orirun. The three main
28 Bastard, not necessarily product of an illicit sexual relation.
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things I will focus on in the play to discuss orirun are: Billie’s handkerchief, the role
of music, and characterization.
Definitions of orirun are diverse, but derive from four related sources or
categories of understanding. These categories are: 1) filial ties between parents and
children, or spouses (Apter 363-5), and relationships constructed from sharing a
particular lineage (Olajubu 29-30); 2) social interaction or integration, or a sense of
communal belonging built on blood relationship (Akinjogbin 2002:104-18); 3) land or
spatial construct by which one recalls the first category suggested by Apter and; 4)
knowledge from totems or iconic objects/images by which the individual is able to
forge a knowledge of their orirun in regard to the aforementioned three categories. At
its simplest, orirun could be described as one’s sense of origin. People claim orirun
even after they have moved from their place of origin, either through physical
migration, or having been born by parents who have migrated to that new place prior
to the time they (children) were born.
I also construe orirun to mean the spiritual, psychological and/or (meta)
physical attempt by an individual to reclaim her/his ancestry in a new/foreign
environment based on that individual’s sense of her/himself. In this specific case,
orirun could be interpreted to mean “Identity”--- the sense of “who we are” in
contrast to “who we are not” (Apter 356). Mark Currie proposes two ways of identity
formation that are also relevant to what Sears has done in her dramaturgy. According
to Currie, a sense of identity can be expressed through relationship or narrative.
Identity could be relational, established through relationship with other people in
terms of understanding the difference between “us” and “them” and determined by
our own sense of self. On the other hand, we could use stories/narratives, especially
key events in our lives to organize and form a “precise” sense of ourselves. In other
words, stories that we tell, and characters through which we tell those stories, actually
represent who and what we think of ourselves (Currie 17). As I will show below in
Afrika Solo and Harlem Duet which concerns us, Sears has certainly demonstrated
these two ways of identity formation.
Harlem Duet was first produced in Toronto by Nightwood Theatre in 1997,
and has gone on to achieve considerable critical acclaim and commercial success
(McKinnon 2014:290-320). The play tells the story of an African-American couple,
Othello and Billie, whose marriage ends before the play begins, when Othello leaves
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Billie for a White woman, Mona. As the play unfolds, we learn that the collapse of
Billie and Othello’s relationship was, if not caused, then certainly hastened, by their
individual experiences of--- and reaction to ---racism and sexism. Sears mentions that
Harlem Duet began with her contemplation of the kind of mythic figure that
Shakespeare’s Othello symbolizes, “As a veteran theatre practitioner of African
Descent, Shakespeare’s Othello had haunted me since I first was introduced to
him…Othello is the first African portrayed in the annals of western literature. In an
effort to exorcise this ghost, I have written Harlem Duet” (“Notes” 14). Sears’s view
on the canon emphasizes her feelings of ostracism that her first encounter with
Othello provoked, noting that although artistic values are arbitrary but their socio-
political implications are not (McKinnon 2010:5); thus, “Othello” is a name that
conveys the emotion of the black experience that she narrates in the play and, in order
to “dismantle” that haunting image, Sears turns towards her own people, her “lost”
origin. She identifies “three steps of transformation” namely: identifying a place of
complaining, saying it aloud, and locating a creative point for its expression (14); and
she also adopts a narrative technique that incorporates the combination of both the
dramatic space and dramatic time that shows her implicit knowledge of the Yoruba
culture and aesthetic imperative.
Harlem Duet has enjoyed a rich production history and critical reception
which focuses on its response to American racism, and to Canadian fixation on the
Shakespearean canon. Linda Burnett examines the play as a response to American
racism. She argues that Sears uses Billie and Othello--- and the real-life crossroads of
Martin Luther King, Jr. and Malcolm X Boulevard in Harlem, where Billie’s
apartment is located—to represent two alternative responses to racism for African-
Americans: integration or separation. She contends that Sears shows internalised
otherness in Othello, who loses his own cultural identity by aspiring towards a White
culture (symbolised by Mona), while Billie transitions from an intense pride in her
culture through anger and suspicion to full-blown racism that nearly destroys her.
Burnett concludes that, “Othello and Billie shift from a middle ground of shared
cultural pride and sense of the wrongness of discrimination to a place where one
repudiates Black culture, the other White culture” (6). Peter Dickinson examines the
play beyond its “Canadian rendered, ethnic, racial and classed subjectivities,” using
Frantz Fanon’s postcolonial theory developed in his work, Black Skin, White Masks,
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to read Harlem Duet alongside Cesairé’s A Tempest and Carlin’s Not Now,
Desdemona, other Shakespeare adaptations that form part of Black people’s
“experience of colonization and the expression of cultural imperialism” (188-208).
Fischlin contends that Harlem Duet occupies a unique place in the performance
history of Black theatrical aesthetics in a Canadian cultural context, and fits in as part
of the multiple ways in which adaptations of Shakespeare have been deployed to
create Canadian national discourses (Fischlin 2002:313-4). In light of Sears’s
response to Othello, regarding her country’s obsession with a classical canon that
leaves her and her Black community feeling alienated and excluded, McKinnon
examines how the play “interrogates her Canadian society’s privileged narratives by
revisiting, restaging, and retelling [Shakespeare] from a previously marginalized
perspective” in order to “critique or challenge the cultural capital and hierarchies that
[Shakespeare] privileges” (2-4), such as by stripping “Othello” of his/its mythic
symbolism.
From a Yoruba perspective, Harlem Duet can be seen as an extension of the
playwright’s quest for what the Yoruba define as orirun, an interest she makes
explicit in her first autobiographical solo show, Afrika Solo, and continues in an
implicit way through Harlem Duet and Adventures of a Black Girl in Search of God.
Two proverbs are particularly suggestive of the dimensions of orirun that I talk about
here: “Orere oni jin ko ma ni’pekun” (No matter how far the horizon, it has an end)
and “Okun kii gun titi ko ma ni ‘bere” (No matter how long a rope, it must have
started somewhere) respectively. The alternate imagery of the end (ipekun) and
beginning (ibere) in both proverbs, underlines the cultural significance of origin.
Another proverb: “Ile l’abo isinmi oko” (There is no place like home) further
underscores the value of emotional/psychological means of reunion with one’s
ancestry.29
I will first outline Sears’s own personal quest for orirun, in order to help
establish the importance of orirun to Harlem Duet. While Harlem Duet clearly should
not be reduced to a reflection of Sears’s biography or intentions, she herself explicitly
draws readers’ and spectators’ attention to the real-life events she responds to in her
work, and therefore the reception of Harlem Duet has often been informed by this
knowledge.
29 This is not an adequate explanation but it does provide a sense of what is intended with the proverb.
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Born in England to a Guyanese father and a Jamaican mother and moved at a

young age to Canada where she now lives, Sears’s multi-ethnic heritage is not in
doubt; yet she also identifies strongly with Africa (and the Yoruba) both in her
outlook and craft. The autobiographical solo show, Afrika Solo, represents and
recounts Sears’s attempt to reclaim herself in Africa through self-knowledge. Afrika
Solo tells the story of how Sears purposely travelled to Africa to educate herself about
her past, and to draw from the performative and aesthetic tradition from that past. In
her own words, “I was in West Africa and we were getting ready to go into Mali when
we went through a town called Djanet. It seemed like I had discovered a little part of
myself so I made it mine” (Sears, qtd in Breon).30 More so, her demonstration of a
sense of orirun through claiming “her real name” in West Africa, corresponds to the
notion of remembering and/or reclamation which is “a metaphysical process that
involves crossing the boundaries of space, time, history, place, language, corporeality
and restricted consciousness in order to make reconnections and mark or name gaps
and absences” (Davies 17). In a conversation with Alison Sealy-Smith and Ric
Knowles, Sear affirms that “Only in the last thirty years have many of us [people of
African descent] decided, ‘oh my gosh, we are African’” (Knowles 1998: 29). Joanne
Tompkins observes that, “the identity that she [Sears] arrives at is a hybrid form of
Guyanese and Jamaican from her parents, British from her birth, Canadian from her
current home country, and the many African heritages she has ‘adopted’” (Tompkins
36).The fact that Sears recognises that she is African and proclaims amounts, in a
Yoruba cultural sense, to her own recognition of her orirun—exactly the import of the
two proverbs about ipekun and ibere above--- and by which she is able to escape
being described as an “omo ale” (a bastard).
Harlem Duet implicitly engages the same issue of orirun and sense of identity
through its dramatization of the story of Billie and Othello’s failed marriage. In the
“Notes” which accompany the play (as a preface to the published script, and very
often in the form of program notes distributed to spectators at performances of the
play) we are told that “Harlem Duet [is] a rhapsodic blues tragedy [which] explores
the effects of race and sex on the lives of people of African descent. It is a tale of
love. A tale of Othello and his first wife, Billie” (14-15). In performing this task,
Harlem Duet uses the eeta motif (three separate entities regarded as one in this case)
30She was Janet Sears before the trip to West Africa.
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as a narrative strategy, that makes it possible to have the same itan rendered in three
time-frames, linked by the same consciousness and purpose. Most of the play takes
place in the present, at Billie’s apartment in Harlem, locating the conflict in the
couple’s relationship in the context of contemporary American racial discourse. But
the struggle between Billie and Othello also takes place in two other narrative threads,
both explicitly tragic: in the 1860s plot, they (“HER” and “HIM”) are slaves planning
to escape to Canada, but at the last minute, Othello decides not to abandon his white
mistress, Miss Dacey. Later, we find him hanged. In another iteration of the story set
during the 1920s Harlem Renaissance, Othello (“HE”) is a minstrel actor longing to
act in a Shakespeare play in the legitimate theatre. When he forsakes Billie (“SHE”)
for a white woman, she slits his throat.31
Although several critics have commented on Sears’s innovative treatment of

dramatic time and space, none has connected this dramaturgy to Yoruba aesthetic
practice. But it should already be apparent to readers of this thesis that Sears’s plural
and non-linear treatment of time, space, and action---in which events happen not
once, but many times, moving both forward and backward in time--- can be seen (or
at least productively read as) exemplary of the key aesthetic elements of itan and the
Orisa-Shakespeare. Sears also mentions that she wants to write a “non-
chronologically itinerant prequel” (‘Testifyin’ iii), to Shakespeare’s Othello in order
to address the issue of African-American identity. The cyclical and seeming
indeterminate loop of the plot is in line with the nature of itan which, according to
Adeeko, emphasizes significant events and “makes explicit both its criteria of
deciding truly significant events and the methods in forming those criteria” (83),
along with articulating their pedagogical relevance. Other key features of the work
noted by critics also reflect the techniques and tactics of Orisa-Shakespeare, including
soundscape, symbolism and archetypal characterization. In the following paragraphs,
I will examine how these elements work together with the presentation of action in the
three timeframes to dramatize how diasporic Yoruba use Shakespeare to lay claim to
their orirun.
31Sears uses speech prefixes “Her” and “Him,” and “She” and “He” to distinguish the 1860s and the 1920s
versions of the characters, respectively, but also to signal that all three sets of characters are supposed to be played
by the same two actors. The play requires three other actors to play the roles of Canada, Amah, and Magi.
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From an Orisa-Shakespeare perspective, the spirituality of the experience that

we encounter in Harlem Duet, is symbolized by the corner of Martin Luther King Jr.
and Malcolm X Boulevard, location of the conflict of the Harlem scene set in the
present. The crossroads is an orita-meta (crossroads), an elaboration of the mystical
aspect of the eeta motif. The deeper Yoruba connotation of the eeta motif is located in
the orita-meta, which is a complex term that includes the front yard of a house and/or
point of extreme dilemma and confusion that are represented by both the setting of the
main plot of the play and Billie’s state of mind. As Dickinson writes, “the spatial
situation of Billie and Othello's apartment at the corner of Martin Luther King and
Malcolm X Boulevards [is] an intersection that reflects the sense of Billie being at a
crossroads, one that she in fact is unable to cross, of her being caught in a feedback
loop, where her life with Othello repeats itself constantly inside her head” (191), even
as she tries unsuccessfully to resolve the dilemma.
The connection of the three time periods to the same location shows that
Harlem is the initial notion of orirun shared by both Othello and Billie.32 It is “initial”
because as events unfold, we realize that Othello’s concept of orirun differs from
Billie’s based on experience and perception. Harlem’s connection to the history of
slavery and the Black Consciousness movement foreshadows the reactions of Billie
and Othello to the quest for lost origin/orirun. As Sidney Bremer writes, Harlem is
“an organic place, a birthright community” and “cultural institution” which embodied
the “history, images, social circumstances, and physical experience” (Bremer 47-8),
of Black people. Sears also mentions this point though differently:
The play is set in Harlem in New York…And it is, it’s a central

location in the psyches of Black people. Harlem is almost
mythological. It’s this place where the best and the worst of
everything Black exists or has existed. It has an extraordinary
history, a rich culture and my relationship to it is borderless,
very much like my relationship to Blackness. Harlem feels like
another country, not exactly the USA, a country unto itself that I
am part of as well. (Sears, qtd in Buntin)
32Searsseems to have been inspired by Harlem Renaissance writers/literature in her choice of setting. As Bremer
observes, the streets of Harlem Renaissance are often invoked by name and imbued with transcendent power in
Harlem Renaissance literature; and in so doing, Harlem transcended the limits of place by acquiring some sort of
sensory life-force (50).
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In the Act one scene four scene set against the background of the polyrhythmic chorus
of strings that accompany Martin Luther King’s speech, Billie and Othello recall some
edifice of historical landmarks and the landscape of Harlem, by which they
demonstrate their own psychological connection to Harlem as their place of origin:
Othello: I never thought I’d miss Harlem
Billie: You still think it’s a reservation?
Othello: Homeland/reservation
Billie: A sea of Black faces.
Othello: Africatown, USA.
Billie: When we lived in the village, sometimes I’d be on

the subway and I’d miss
(Pauses)
Billie: When we lived in the village, sometimes I’d be on

the subway and I’d miss my step…And I’d just walk. I
love seeing all these brown faces.
Othello: Yes…
Billie: Since they knocked down the old projects, I can

see the Schomberg Museum from here. You still can’t
make out Harlem Hospital. I love that I can see the
Apollo from our—from my balcony. (56-7)
Polyrhythmic music and speech by Martin Luther King in the background of the
scene further emphasises the couple’s psychological and mental connection to
Harlem. They both aspire to connect to it. In the 1928 Prologue scene, this sentiment
is expressed by Billie who tells Othello that, “Harlem’s the place to be now. Everyone
who’s anyone is coming here now. It’s our time. In our place” (21). “Time” and
“Place” are merged as imagery into Harlem, which corresponds to the cultural
significance of orirun and stresses psychological/mental connection that is unhindered
by spatial and temporal barriers. In recognizing Harlem as their orirun, they also
implicitly assert their identity as Black people. At that moment, we are also shown
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that their love for each other is strengthened by the connection that they both have to
Harlem. As they try to make love, Othello imagines that her body symbolizes Harlem
(and other American cities) of their dream.
In a flashback in Act II, scene seven set in Harlem Othello and Billie also
express the same sentiment about Harlem as “a sanctuary” and place of origin/orirun,
“filled with Black doctors and dentists.” They view Harlem as a protected place where
“Black boutiques, Black bookstores, Black groceries… Black banks [are] owned by
Blacks from the faintest gold to the bluest bronze” (106-7), even as they are protected
by law. This initial dream and sense of Harlem as orirun also serves to strengthen the
love that they have for each other---a love that is symbolized by the strawberry-
spotted handkerchief. While Harlem was the exotic place of origin that the couple
attempts to connect to psychologically, the handkerchief becomes a concrete symbol,
a material object of that quest, on which they both project the dream of unalloyed love
for each other, and filial relationship upon which they imagine a common source of
origin. The handkerchief becomes a physical object that binds the couple together and
a symbol that links their past with the present.
In the background to the 1928 scene between SHE and HE, a cello and bass
produce a melancholic kind of music that is accompanied by Martin Luther King’s “I
have a dream” speech which he appears to sing in a slow polyrhythmic
improvisational fashion. SHE recalls the genesis of the handkerchief:
Remember…Remember when you gave this to me? Your

mother’s handkerchief. There’s magic in the web of it. Little
strawberries. It’s so beautiful—delicate. You kissed my
fingers…and with each kiss a new promise you made…swore
yourself to me…for all eternity…remember? (21)
In this speech, SHE uses the handkerchief as a source of memory by which she tries
to remind HE of his orirun in terms of genealogy. She then expands the scope of the
handkerchief’s significance with an emotional appeal that uses the symbolism of the
mother (and its connection to the handkerchief) to effectively pin that emotional and
mental connection down. In another scene between HIM and HER set in 1860
Harlem, our attention is also drawn to the handkerchief. In the background a blues
music blends with an American voice reading from the Declaration of Independence;
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while HER admires the handkerchief, HIM uses its itan to trace his own orirun that
Billie in present day Harlem will make a recourse to later on:
Him: It was my mother’s. Given her by my father…from

his mother before that. When she died she gave it to me,
insisting that when I found…chose…chose…chose a
wife…that I gave it to her…to you [my] heart
Her: Oh…It is so beautiful.
Him: There’s magic in the web of it.
Her: So delicate…so old.
Him: A token…an antique of our ancient love. (35; emphasis

added)
In the two scenes above, our attention is drawn to two of the categories of claiming
orirun; namely, filial relation (motherhood and marriage) and an iconic object which
is the handkerchief. I will examine these two categories carefully in order to
illuminate Othello and Billie’s individual reactions to orirun based on their emotions
and experience.
In the Yoruba culture, the mother is regarded as the “unacknowledged”

primary source of a child’s orirun. She is “unacknowledged” in the sense that a
child’s lineage is primarily considered from the father’s line of descent; however, the
Yoruba also recognize that the mother’s womb remains the child’s first point of
contact with the earth and should have been her/his “original homeland.” As an
expression of that recognition of the mother’s unique place, the Yoruba consider her
as an orisa in her own right, hence the saying “Orisa bi iya osi” (No deity is
comparable to the mother). When Billie traces the handkerchief’s journey and how it
came to be in her possession, it is to that epistemic knowledge that she refers. In the
following scene where Othello presents a short itan regarding the journey of the
handkerchief, our attention is also drawn to the same belief, in regard to the
irreplaceable connection of the mother to the child, a connection wrought from the
womb, the significance of which is recalled from time to time and strengthened by the
blood ties between both the mother and the child. In the discussion of Otaelo, I
mentioned the “Mother within” as that metaphysical connection of a mother to her
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child--- a connection that also determines the fate/destiny of the child. The references
to the handkerchief are meant to recall that same connection, albeit from a slightly
different angle. In this case, a sense of continuity is suggested, in which case the child
is said to be the ancestor of the parent (through the symbolism of the handkerchief) in
a relationship that is reversed when the parents die.
Hence, the short itan that both scenes present of the handkerchief is to draw
our attention to the filial relation between Othello and his mother, which constitutes
his orirun. We should also have in mind that the assumption here regarding Othello’s
orirun through his mother, stems from the Yoruba belief that mothers possess certain
authority over their children; an authority that is strengthened by the “ikunle abiyamo”
and/or the “omu iya” (kneeling and breastfeeding) psycho-social and cultural
sensibilities identified with giving birth and nurturing. In this case, the potency of the
authority derives more from her spiritual rather than temporal position as a parent, and
is based on “adabi” (Except it is not so), that is, unless the child did not pass through
her womb or suckle her breast (Opefeyitimi 164-7). In drawing attention to the
handkerchief this way, Billie not only asserts its significance as Othello’s orirun, but
also brings up the importance of motherhood, which is reinforced by the images of
kneeling (ikunle abiyamo) and breastfeeding (omu iya).
While connecting the handkerchief to motherhood, Billie also draws our

attention to its connection to a spouse, an opening up possibility that she exploits later
on. In Act II, scene five, set in an unspecified “present” in Harlem, Othello is now
with Mona. But, when he comes back into Billie’s house to pack his things, both of
them realize that they still have a pull on each other, and end up making love.
Afterwards Billie says:
Sometimes…sometimes when we make love. Sometimes every

moment lines up into one moment. And I’m holding you. And I
can’t tell where I end, or you begin. I see everything. All my
ancestors lined up below me…like a Makonde statue, or
something. It’s like…I know. I know I’m supposed to be here.
Everything is here. (60; emphasis added)
Here, we are presented another perspective of how people can forge a sense of origin
which is through sexual union even as the motherhood concept is attached. The
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reference to the Makonde statue is relevant to this understanding. Noted for their
household figures, objects and mask carvings, the Makondes’ most important abstract
figures are the Shetani (from the Arabic word, “Shaytan” meaning “devil”) which
probably must be the one that Billie refers to here. The Shetani are sculpture of various
abstract, animal and anthropomorphic objects usually with a combination of attributes
that are deeply rooted in certain archetypes. They are basically products of mythology
and popular belief, often identified with malevolent spirits, ukunduka, for example,
which is thought to feed from sexual intercourse (Kingdon132; Hsu and Low 44);
while it is possible to view Billie’s reference to the Makonde ukunduka in relation to
the sexual relation between Mona and Othello as I will show later on, it also suggests
another aspect that connects to the filial relation between a mother and her child that
the memory of the handkerchief recalls.
Being a matrilineal culture, the Makonde trace their line of descent from a
female ancestor, and the origin of a child through the mother’s. Although this is in
contrast to the Yoruba culture, the connection could be found in the Yoruba akose
w’aye and imori (“Stepping into the World” and “Knowing the Head”) rites in which a
new-born’s entire life chapter, so to speak, is revealed through a process of Ifa
divination. What is unique about these rites is that, it is the mother’s name and
spiritual connection to the child that is required and not the father’s. This is one of the
points of reference that makes the mother an orisa as I earlier mentioned, and
strengthens the “adabi” as a tool by a parent to enforce obedience on their child(ren).
In this particular context however, Billie’s reference to Makonde (let’s have in

mind the aspect of sexual symbolism) stresses marriage and sexual union. Thus,
Billie’s speech above shows the spiritual power in sex and how copulation functions
as a way of connecting to a certain “moment” that defines one’s being, especially
when she adds, “all my ancestors lined up below me…and I can’t tell where I end, or
you begin” (60). In this case, our attention should be drawn to the cultural value that is
attached to “aya” (the female bosom) or, more specifically, “fifi aya lu aya” (Hitting
the chest against another) which is euphemism for sexual intercourse, that a mother
uses (also under adabi) to exact a will over her child(ren) through recourse to the
inherent power in the sexual relationship between her and her husband (the
children[ren]’s father). Billie uses a similar tactic, making a demand from her husband
as she does here while drawing attention to her breasts:
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Him: (Pause) I want to be with you ‘till I’m too old to know.
You know that.
Her: [E]ven when my breasts fall to my toes?
Him: I’ll pick them up and carry them around for you.
Her: And when I can’t remember my own name?
Him: I’ll call it out a thousand times a day.
Her: Then I’ll think you’re me.
Him: I am you. (35; emphasis added)
In drawing attention to the “aya” (breasts), Billie also draws from the authority that
she has acquired in her relationship with Othello. This is in the sense that the imagery
of the breasts recalls those of Othello’s mother and its’ expected function as a
psychological reconstruction of his source of origin as I have argued previously. In the
scene, it is clear that both HIM and HER understand the import of that symbolic
gesture, especially when HER says, “I’ll think you’re me” and HIM responds, “I am
you” to foreground the fact that, in as much as the orirun of a child could be traced to
the mother through filial relation, so too could a wife’s link to the man’s (husband)
source of origin. It is an intrinsic aspect of Yoruba culture that consequent upon
marriage, the couple’s identity has become shared, and connected as one--- a sense of
which we derive from the above conversation.
Billie is however persuaded to make a recourse to both this aspect of shared

orirun between husband and wife and the viability of sexual power to achieve the
same purpose due to her discovery that Othello is having an affair with Mona.
Although not seen but heard, Mona’s encroachment of their affair is very disturbing, at
least to Billie. When Othello comes to pack his remaining possessions from Billie’s
apartment, the stage direction provides a casual view of Mona’s “appearance” thus:
“We see nothing of her but brief glimpses of a bare arm and a waft of light brown
hair” (47), and through the short conversation that follows:
Othello: It’s OK Mona, she’s in there. Why don’t you wait in the car.
Mona: (Offstage) She’ll have to get used to me sometime.
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Othello: I’ll be down in a flash. It won’t take me that long (She

doesn’t answer)
Hey, hey, hey! (47)
By the time Mona returns in the next scene, Billie becomes aware of her strong hold
over Othello. He is completely rattled by Mona’s silence. At first Billie finds Othello’s
frantic reaction funny especially because Mona’s voice was only heard on the
intercom:
Mona: (Through intercom) It’s Mona. Could I have a word with Othello.
Othello: (Overlapping) Shit!
Billie: One second please.
(He rushes to the intercom, while attempting to put his clothes

back on […] He puts a finger over his mouth indicating to Billie
to be quiet)
Othello: Hey Mone…Mone, I’m not done yet. There’s more

here than I imagined. Why don’t I call you when I ‘m done.
(Mona does not respond. Othello’s demeanour changes)
Othello: Mona? Mona? I’m coming, OK? I’ll be right…Just

wait there for a second, Ok? OK? (61)
Although Billie does not react immediately as Othello tries incoherently to explain
Mona’s call, “I’ll be back in…She wants to help…help pack…I mean…I” while he
struggles to button his shirt at the same time. As the stage direction tells us, “Billie
does not move” (61). The silences here in this scene, Billie’s and Mona’s, say a lot
about the direction of the story from that point onward. As McKinnon rightly
observes, apart from Othello’s reaction to Mona’s silence confirming her power over
him, irrevocably shattering the renewed rapport between Othello and Billie and ending
any hope of reconciliation, her absence is even paradoxically more powerful,
“threatening [Billie’s] presence” and making us to “imagine the worst” (126); the
worst, being what Billie resorts to--- using the knowledge of Othello’s orirun to cast a
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spell on the handkerchief in order to get him back from Mona (and possibly punish
whoever touches the handkerchief).
At this point in the play, we begin to see two different attitudes to the same
notion of orirun: one driven by knowledge but marred by infidelity and the other by
emotion and vengeance, both of which are underlined by the sense of “who we are”
and “who we are not.” As I mentioned earlier, one can form a sense of identity through
relationship with other people even in a new/foreign land. Yoruba understanding
regarding connecting to one’s orirun this way is explained with the saying “Ibi ori
dani si laa gbe” that is, wherever fate determines is home/origin. While the Yoruba
notion of “Ibi ori dani si laa gbe” is to promote the sense of origin in one’s new abode
irrespective of spatial and temporal dislocation from one’s original homeland, it also
takes into cognizance the essentiality of harmonious co-existence. This belief is itself
underlined by their sense of a common humanity. When they also say “Aye kan lo wa”
(One humanity exists), it is to buttress the knowledge regarding locating home
wherever one resides, either by birth, sojourn, marriage or association of any sort so
long as the environment is characterized by harmony.
Othello’s action should be understood from this cultural perspective of “Ibi ori
dani si laa gbe,” which could be deduced from his remark, “My culture is
Wordsworth, Shaw, Leave it to Beaver, Dirty Harry” (73). As the titles of the
television programme, film and notable authors suggest, Othello’s idea of origin is
shaped by both a historical and contemporary worldview that privileges diversity
rather than that of a monolithic culture that Harlem has come to represent for him: a
source of origin that refuses to let go of its past history of violence, bitterness, hatred
and uncertainty that Billie abhors in her heart. Othello also realizes that his life can
only have meaning by coming to terms with his present reality, which includes dealing
with racism which he experiences from his colleagues in the office on a daily basis,
rather than holding onto a particular idea of home that exists only in his imagination.
In fact, in this same scene, Othello also expresses his desire for Harlem, his original
homeland, as much as Billie, “that distant thing I know nothing of, but yearn to hold
for my very own” (73). But he also reminds her that, “People change… That’s just
human nature. Our experiences, our knowledge transforms us” (73). He realizes from
experience that Harlem, with its history of slavery and racial struggles, will remain a
dreamland for both Billie and himself; an exotic place, an ideal place of origin only in
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their imagination, “We struttin’ around professing some imaginary connection for a
land we don’t know. Never seen. Never gonna see.” In that same scene set in the
present Harlem, with Malcolm X’s rhetoric in the background, he asks Billie, “What
difference does colour make?” and tells her that “You are the problem if you don’t see
beyond the colour of [your] skin” (73). Othello realizes that people around them have
become part of their new community, hence the need to establish a “new” origin in the
midst of people and relationship which affect them and they affect in turn, but devoid
of hatred based on racial difference.
However, given that Othello’s recourse to this cultural value is tainted by

infidelity, Billie interprets his posture differently and calls him “A Black man afflicted
with Negrophobia”; a “Corporeal malediction”, and “a crumbled racial epidermal
schema[…] causing predilections to coitus denegrification” (66). Brown-Guillory
contends that Othello is misguided and delusional (159), while Kidnie insists that
“Othello is selling out Black culture and heritage in a misguided effort to gain white
respect” (42). Although the type of racism that Billie experienced is not the same as
Othello’s, he brings to his own experience an understanding that allows him to see
clearly and to critically assess situation especially at his work place where he has to
prove that he is capable all the time, “any error […] only goes to prove them [his white
colleagues’] right” (54), and to relate with the same people without the kind of hatred
that Billie abhors in her mind, “[i]njustice against Blacks can’t be cured by injustice
against Whites” (53). Whereas Billie finds his explanation untenable, “Progress is
going to White schools…proving we’re as good as Whites…like some holy grail…all
that we’re taught in those White schools. All that is in us. Our success in Whiteness.
We religiously seek to have what they have. Access to the White man’s world. The
White man’s job” (55). Thus, by the time Mona eventually “shows” up and shatters
every possibility of mending the cracks on the walls of their marriage, and Othello
insists, “Things change, Billie. I am not my skin. My skin is not me” (74), as a final
note of registering his disposition towards the new society, Billie resorts to the same
handkerchief by which she recalls Othello’s initial orirun through his mother, and
projects her own connection to the same based on their marriage.
Billie’s frustration should be understood given herlevel of commitment and

investment to the marriage and Othello’s life. She educated him with the inheritance
from her mother’s wealth and suffered two miscarriages. She resorts to herbalism and
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a vengeful utilization of her aje which she projects into the handkerchief as the final
attempt to keep their marriage and make him respond to her own sense of self.
According to Teresa Washington, aje is the “biological, physical, and spiritual force of
creativity, social and political enforcement”; it is also “the spiritual vision, divine
authority, power of the word, and ase, the power to bring desires and ideas into being”
(Washington 13-4). The scene opens with Billie
[…] by the chemical factory at the table. The book of Egyptian

Alchemy sits open upon it. Something is boiling in the flask and
steam is coming out of the condenser. With rubber gloved hands
she adds several drops of a violet liquid into the flask. She picks
up a large white handkerchief with pretty red strawberries
embroidered on it.” (75)
Billie, having combined the required ingredients which she puts on fire to boil, she
chants an incantation--- itan--- tracing the “journeys” of the handkerchief, spanning
four generations from whom Othello has descended. This chant also centres
specifically on Othello’s maternal line of descent. She then invokes the orisa, “My
sable warrior…fight with me. I would fight with you…suffer with you…” (76), in
order to seal the process and which constitutes a manifestation of aje.
Billie’s manifestation of aje derives from the power to enact spiritual

communication through Oro (Power of words), and ofo ase (the power to pray
effectively), ayajo (power of incantations), and aasan (the power to curse and drive
insane) (Washington 14-7).33We are also informed through the stage direction that,
“The contents of the flask have been transformed from violet to clear. BILLIE places
the handkerchief onto a large tray. Then with tongs, she takes the hot flask and pours
the contents over the handkerchief. She retrieves a vial from the table, opens it” (76).
In a Yoruba context, the efficacy of Billie’s projection of the aje is possible through
her effective utilization of a form of Oro called gbolohun which, in this particular
case, is the itan of the handkerchief and the invocation of the orisa. These types of
Oro and gbolohun (incantations), include ofo/ogede and awure, which either work in
favour or against the individual, depending on what purpose they are directed. While
ofo/ogede refers to a powerful poetic genre considered intensely efficacious and
33 I have borrowed the term “manifestation of aje” from Washington.
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downright dangerous, and invoked by people (usually medicine-men and those versed
in the art) in order to realign the balance of spiritual forces so that they can work in
their favour (either for good or bad depending on intention), awure is usually derived
from the Ifa corpus, and are rendered to bring about blessing and good fortune (Barber
362-3). The former is often invoked basically to instil fear and engender compliance to
set conditions, while the use of the latter is driven by contrary emotions and intentions.
In this case, Billie uses ofo/ogede which she strengthens by aligning her own
consciousness with the cosmic through invoking the power of Oya, the “sable
warrior”; the female orisa noted for virulent anger and turbulence; and satisfied that
the potion is ready, she tells us “Anyone who touches it—the handkerchief, will come
to harm” (102), “anyone” as we imagine would be Mona, or even Othello!
We are also informed that this is not the first time that such a mystical ability
will be demonstrated in the play. In a scene set in present-day Harlem, Billie’s friend,
Amah informs Magi, Billie’s landlady of trying such a spell on her lover, Andrew,
“Once I buried his socks under the blackberry bush by the front door. Sure enough, he
always finds his way back home” (29). Amah tries this spell after a Jamaican lady told
her that she also rinsed her underwear and used the water to prepare a meal for her
lover, with the hope that their love would last for eternity. But from indications, the
spell doesn’t seem to have its desired effect, nor does Billie’s. The result is in fact
inverted, causing her madness and his own death by her hand.
By dabbling into herbalism without adequate knowledge (although Magi tries

to warn her), Billie violates a major rule guiding the use of the aje. Billie’s attempt
fails because she does not consider the rules and principles that guide against the
misuse of such an enormous power. While aje/Aje as both power and the wielder of
the power, possesses the “cosmic/elemental force” to bring desires and ideas into
being, the same are also subjected to strict rules of usage that guard against abuse or
even the deployment of that awesome/vicious energy under an intensely emotional
condition that is devoid of reason as we have presently. We come to this knowledge at
this point in Billie’s conversation with Magi who advises her to be careful of her
plans:
Billie: Can you keep a secret?
Magi: No, but that’s never stopped you before.
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Billie: Then sorry…
Magi: OK, OK. I promise.
Billie: I am about to plunge into a very dangerous waters. Give

me your word.
Magi: You’re not going to do something stupid, now.
Billie: Your word?
Magi: Yeh, OK.
Billie: I’ve drawn a line.
Magi: A line. A line about what?
Billie: I’m returning the handkerchief—the one his mother gave

him. The one he gave to me when we first agreed to be
together…
Magi: I don’t understand.
Billie: I’ve concocted something…A portion… A plague of

sorts…I’ve soaked the handkerchief…Soaked it in certain
tinctures…Anyone who touches it—the handkerchief, will come
to harm.
Magi: Now, that is not a line, Billie that is a trench. (102)
Billie is so much consumed by the thought of what she plans to do to the extent that
she does not recognize Othello’s voice on the phone when he calls at that moment. She
initially thinks it is Jenny calling. And when she realizes it is Othello, her response is
incoherent, full of agitation and excuses. Realizing that Billie is consumed with rage
by her actions, Magi attempts to dissuade her from this line of action:
Is everything about White people with you? Is every living

moment of your life eaten up with thinking about them. Do you
know where you are? Do you know who you are anymore?
What about right and wrong. Racism is a disease my friend, and
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your test just came back positive. You’re so busy reacting, you
don’t even know yourself. (103)
Billie had the opportunity to learn ogbon (discretion) from her landlord, Magi, who
also uses itan to remind her of slavery and to question the efficacy of using such a
power to avenge her disappointment by Othello, “Billie, if this kind of stuff truly
worked, Africans wouldn’t be in the situation we’re in now. Imagine all them slaves
working magic on their masters…if it truly worked, I’d be married to a nice man, with
three little ones by now” (102). Out of virulent anger and the desire to punish Othello
for infidelity however, Billie continues her dabbling into aje without adequate
knowledge of its use (75; 92-3), which eventually leads to tragedy and her admission
to a psychiatric hospital.
In fact, Magi’s story serves as an alternative to Billie’s own tragic fate and
sense of connection to homeland. Along with Amah and later on Canada (Billie’s
estranged father), Magi only appears in the present-day plot. In response to Canada’s
question about whether she has lived all her life in the same house she now owns,
Magi tells him a story that goes back into about four generations. Magi inherited the
house from its original owner, a White man, who apparently fathered children with her
own great grandmother. What it means is that even while she believes herself to be
black, she might have remotely descended from a White father, yet her claim over the
building goes back in the direction of motherhood, through a black woman. There is
also a suggestion of budding romance between Magi and Canada (and possibly the
occurrence of the “ifi aya lu aya” situation), when Canada tells Magi:
Canada: You sure know the way to a man’s heart.
Magi: Haven’t had any luck so far.
Canada: Yet (There is an awkward silence between them, after

which they both start speaking at once). (95-6)
Although Canada’s return is timely, Billie rebuffs him. Having been unfaithful to her
mother, not to mention his problem with alcohol, Canada’s arrival is less than
welcomed. Billie resentfully recalls how she and her brother Andrew were treated after
their mother’s death, when their father “hauled [them] all the way […] from Bronx”
(45). However, from the audience’s perspective, Billie would be well-advised to heed
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Canada’s the story about the man who died not because he was shot by an archer but
because he allowed the wound to fester without attending to it on time (83). Although
Billie does not listen, Canada’s story is an example of such itan that “gain their
authority from the distillation of past experience and entails connecting elements of
myth, history and events of the past through aroba (oral transmission) that is retold
over and again” (Barber 362). Such itan exemplify how people connect to their orirun
through narrative.
The significance of Canada’s story, that people can actually learn from the past
and prevent it from destroying their present and future by leaving that past “in the
past” where it belongs, is lost on Billie who is unable to forget Othello’s infidelity and
the pain that she has suffered through devotion to him. In other words, Canada’s story,
rendered in the form of owe onitan (proverbial story), stresses the danger in
perpetuating the notion of difference which was wrecking Billie from deep inside of
her at that crucial moment in the play. The play suggests how Billie is “defined by the
continuity of experience; [that] she is trapped in history just as history is trapped in
her” (Kaplan 101). Burnett maintains that in Harlem Duet, “Sears explores two
extreme responses to the racism faced in North American society—integration and
separation—and finds each lacking” (78). Instead, I argue that Othello shows that he
has fully, or willing to integrate into the society, by utilizing the knowledge from a
Yoruba cultural understanding that locates orirun/origin where one is born, unlike
Billie. Perhaps that is why Sears insists that the play is Billie’s story and notOthello’s.
Billie realizes too late both in the aspect of dealing with Othelloand how important her
father’s return would turn out to be, after the potion she puts on the handkerchief to
punish Othello (or Mona) backfires.
Although I agree with Dickinson, Tompkins, Kidnie and others regarding

Harlem Duet’s use of the handkerchief by Billie in a way that leads to disaster, the
play is not necessarily a tragedy. I agree with Kidnie on this point, when she insists
that, in spite of the outcome of Billie’s emotional and psychological breakdown
resulting from Othello’s betrayal of her love, Harlem Duet should also be viewed from
the perspective of how “it turns away from death towards hope and creative
inspiration, particularly as embodied by the children” (51). Kidnie refers specifically
to Jenny who, though never present physically on the stage like Mona, also wants to
support and help her aunt Billie overcome the throes of loss she has suffered by
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sending her, her portrait (Sears 84). More so, Canada’s return, and apparent
reformation, and his decision to nurture his daughter back to sound health, suggests an
optimistic future---albeit not for Othello, and perhaps not soon for Billie.
Although Shakespeare is the jumping-off point for the play through the
examination of the kind of “mythology” that Othello embodies, Harlem Duet---as its
title implies--- invests very heavily in music, a feature often lost on readers. As we are
informed in Sears’s “Notes” which accompany the play, “One voice does not a chorus
make” (12), which directly translates to “Eeyan kan kii je awa de.” This is Sears’s way
of saying that Yoruba ancestors are the touchstone upon which she built her vision:
she stands “on the shoulders of her ancestors” and has, “access to a choir of African
voices, chanting a multiplicity of African experiences” (“Note” 12-3). In an interview
with Stephen Hunt, Sears also admits to first experiencing her narrative/performative
style in Africa:
They’d be telling some traditional story in a language I did not

know. It was in a local language, not the colonial language […]
and this story, which everybody knew apparently, was told by
the narrator poet, but it was also told in parts by dancers, and
singers and musicians who told the story—sometimes better,
and sometimes separately! (2)
While previous scholars have commented on music in Harlem Duet, they have not
shown its explicit connection to Yoruba aesthetic. Yet, what Sears describes above is
essentially Yoruba narrative/performative style that incorporates audience
participation and group solidarity “in which the storyteller’s comments in response to
a wink, a gesture, the coming in of a member of audience or the message from his
master drummer, are within the setting of performance, drum, dance, and drama”
(Olatunji 113). The setting, audience and voices at the background, are part and parcel
of the storyteller’s performance.
In Harlem Duet, the essential Yoruba nature of the itan is also underlined by
the soundscape that foregrounds both the fictional experience of Billie and Othello
and its connection to Black history. As Knowles explains, the soundscape functions,
“not only within excerpts from musical expression that play against their Western
orchestral instrumentation even as the action of the play resonates against
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Shakespearean tragedy” (Knowles 2002:389), but also with speeches by historical

figures who have had similar experience to the one being addressed in the play. Also,
the call and respond melancholic blues created by the cello and bass combination,
functions to show Harlem Duet’s “kind of chorus to [the] re-writing of Shakespeare”
(Dickinson 192), and how Billie gets “caught in a feedback loop, where her life with
Othello repeats itself constantly inside her head, [and this quandary] is compounded
aurally on stage through the use of voice-over sound bites” (119). As it were, actions
do not just occur or stand alone, but are bound up with speeches of African-American
historical figures. The music and speeches by notable African-American political
figures like Malcolm X, Martin Luther King, Jr., Paul Robeson etc. along with the
orchestra, fuse together to form an “authentic source” of linking the past with the
present, as an excellent example of linking to orirun.
In addition to recalling history, the soundscape also functions as a unique form

of language that conveys emotions related to the actions being dramatized; as a
“rhapsodic blues tragedy,” the play “links tragedy with jazz, high-Western with Black
culture even as its musical bridges perform blues on orchestral strings” (Knowles
2004:150). In the stage directions, we are informed that the language produced by the
speeches and music should be interpreted especially in terms of the way they
accentuate the mood which underlies the interactions of the characters on stage at
every point in time. Examples include: in the background to the Prologue, set in 1928
Harlem, an orchestra of “the cello and the bass call and respond to a heavy
melancholic blues. Martin Luther King’s voice accompanies them […] in a
polyrhythmic improvisation” (21); in scene one, set in present-day Harlem, at the
background are “urban melody blues/jazz riff,” played on strings, and “accompanied
by the voice of Malcolm X, speaking about the nightmare of race in America and the
need to build strong black communities” (24); in the scene set in Harlem 1860,
involving HIM and HER, “the instruments sing a blues from deep in the Mississippi
delta, while a mature northern American voice reads from the Declaration of
Independence” (33); at Harlem in an unspecified present, “melodious urban blues
jazz” keeps time with an “oral address by Marcus Garvey on the need for African-
Americans to return to Africa” (39); and in another scene set strategically in Harlem,
at the corner of Martin Luther King and Malcolm X boulevards (125th & Lennox) and
with Billie in the living room smoking a cigarette, a “string duet croons gently” while
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Malcolm X speaks about “the need for Blacks to turn their gaze away from Whiteness
so that they can see each other with new eyes” (60). The music in the background
suggests that “the black community [is] a homogenous group” (Kaplan 39), and point
at “displacement and call for healing” (Brown-Guillory 163). In drawing from the
symbolism that the historical characters, their speeches and the musical
accompaniments represent and utilizing them to drive the actions at every
moment/time frames of the plot, Harlem Duet shows that Othello and Billie’s
predicament in the play is also the predicament of the African-Americans generally.
In addition to the Yoruba origin of the soundscape, characters in the play are
also invested with mythic properties derived from the Yoruba mythology. Billie is a
complex archetypal character who combines essential attributes of Osun, matriarch of
Yoruba female orisa, with those of Oya and the Iyaami. This changing characteristic
makes it possible for her to easily traverse the three levels of womanhood recognized
by the Yoruba: as daughters, wives and ancient mothers, otherwise known as the Iya
Moopo symbolic trinity. Because most scholars who have written on the play have
focused on the handkerchief and the spell, they have neither paid much attention to
how Billie transitions from a wife, sister, a child and even occasionally a mother (to
Jenny) through her relationship with the other characters in the play, nor the fact that
she is also invested with attributes of the iyaami cosmic element, as Mona whom I
discuss below.
Although Osun is recognized in Yoruba mythology as orisa belonging to the

“cool” class of the deities, and one who possesses sister-mother duality, much of
which Billie demonstrates in the way she nurtures Othello, in her relationship with
both Magi and Amah as well as Jenny. But, her vicious aspect comes alive when she
“transforms” into Oya. Billie’s name, “Sybil” meaning “prophetess. Sorceress. Seer
of the future” (Sears 81), given to her by her father, Canada, suggests that she
possesses such powers and ability as Oya, without her knowing until it manifests at
the height of emotional breakdown. This power comes in the form of aje (power to
control). As Washington explains, the matrix of aje that binds Orisa to historical
entity, and to fictive character(s), can occur through both unconscious and deliberate
attempts to “re-member” what is buried in the past by using Great Mothers and
powers (101). Billie unconsciously summons the power when she says, “my sable
warrior…fight with me. I would fight with you…suffer with me…I would suffer
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[with you]” (Sears 76). In Yoruba mythology, Oya is believed to possess a certain
sabre and whisk made from antelope skin. It is also interesting that Oya’s colours,
brown and/or burgundy (dark red), resemble the colour of the strawberry pattern on
the white handkerchief. Billie’s room is “a small chemical factory,” filled up with
materials suggestive of her mystical nature as Magi observes in scene three,
“Saracen’s Compound…Woad…Hart’s tongue… Prunella vulgaris [and a book]
Egyptian Alchemy: A Chemical Encyclopaedia” (40). In using the handkerchief
which she has infused with deadly potency “what I add to this already fully endowed
cloth, will cause you such…such wretchedness” Billie clearly demonstrates her Oya
quality.
Elsewhere, I explained that a character which assumes the personality and
archetype of Oya usually appears disturbed. This is exactly the case with Billie and
perhaps why she is unable to grasp the import of Magi’s metaphor about their slave
ancestors. At one time she is the dutiful and supportive wife to Othello, but, when he
rejects her for Mona, she assumes the character of Oya who brings about change
through rage and turbulence. This “disturbance” is expressed through the yoking
together of the elemental forces and the utilization of the femininity of Osun and the
masculinity (which borders on destruction) of Sango’s temperament. The
transformation is usually due to emotional depression that results in a brutal attempt
to exterminate the source of the oppression (Balogun 2013:23). Thus, when Billie
decides to respond to Othello’s abandonment, “My mate…throughout eternity. Feel
what I feel. Break like I break. No more—no less” (75), she summons a power so
enormous not for a wrong cause. And her inadequate knowledge of, and inability to
control, that power results in tragedy.
Sears invests Othello with the attributes of two male orisa; Ogun and Sango.
Othello betrays both the creative and destructive attributes of Ogun. Othello also
demonstrates the contrasting and contradictory polarity that Esu, the presiding orisa in
the Yoruba diaspora, manifests through his Ogun traits. Like Ogun in Yoruba
mythology, who dismantles obstruction in the undergrowth in order to make a passage
for the other orisa in the void of transition, Othello also believes in progress in the
New World through the capacity of education. He asserts “my culture is
Wordsworth…Spirituality beyond race bullshit” (Sears 73-4). This attitude aligns with
the assimilative principle of Yoruba culture which recognizes the concept of transition
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as a central principle of existence. As Wright explains, “the Yoruba view excessive

stability as undesirable because it induces stagnation and entropy” (12). Othello
believes that his own perception of life is to utilize the logic of Western education and
the opportunities that it provides, in order to survive in the new society, an attitude to
life which constitutes a recognition of orirun based on where fate and/or circumstance
has placed one. Sears herself illustrates such an outlook, insofar as she has made a
home for herself in the seemingly inhospitable landscapes she has lived in; her
“Notes” explicitly spell out her commitment to making Canada feel more like a home
to her nieces and her community. She mentions to Knowles, “Before Harlem Duet,
Canadian Stage had never produced a work by an author of [Black] African descent.
And the problem with Canadian Stage is that it’s called Canadian Stage, so it
represents Canada, and I’m thinking, ‘I’m Canadian, so it must represent me’”
(Knowles 28).34Othello demonstrates a strong sense of perception and social outlook,
a quick-witted perception of his environment and attitude that people have towards
him:
It’s implied…no one at school tells me I don’t know how to do

my job…I’ll be at faculty meeting, I’ll make a suggestion and
it’ll be ignored. Not five minutes later, someone else will make
the same suggestion and everyone will agree to it. Mona noticed
it too. They think I’m only there because I’m Black. I’ve tasted
it. (53)
Othello’s attitude shows his awareness that subscribes to the Yoruba attitude and the
epistemological assumption that life requires “the capacity to accrete and absorb new
forms and ideas for expanding identity beyond where most value systems would have
lost theirs” (Wright 13). Othello demonstrates how the Ogun archetype transcends the
orisa’s “cosmic functionalist framework” to embrace the symbolic representation of
“human dilemma of how to balance the need for constraint and the need for freedom”
(Barnes 18), and extends this awareness into his Sango characteristic traits.
Othello demonstrates Sango’s attributes through both his seeming “conquest”

of both racist attitudes and women. In Yoruba mythology, Sango is the warrior,
34
Sears also uses Afrika Solo to dramatize that recognition.
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military commander and hero-god who creates dynasties and makes a living by
breaking frontiers; the spirit that pushes nature to its limit by performing outstanding
feats. Othello demonstrates Sango’s ability to dismantle barriers by also overcoming
the initial racism he experienced among his colleagues in the university campus. He
also displays the hero-god’s randy, even amoral, attribute; a womanizer who derives
pleasure from sexual conquest and breaks boundaries in the process.
I prefer White women […]. We’d make love and I’d fall asleep
not having to beware being mistaken for someone’s inattentive
father […] and not be confused with every lousy lover, or
husband that has ever left them lying in a gutter of unresolved
emotions. It’s the truth. To a Black woman, I represent every
Black man she has ever been with and with whom there is still
so much to work out… I am a very single, very intelligent, very
employed Black man. And with White women, it’s good. It’s
nice. (71)
In his quest to be greater than his grandfather, Sango is advised to marry a river, a
mountain, and a forest, symbolizing Yemoja, Oba and Oya, three of the female deities,
which he does. Thus, Sango surmounts the seemingly insurmountable; the hero-god’s
greatness is intimately tied to the women’s, who represented different shades of
quality (fame/wealth, beauty/meekness and brutality/aggression) that he requires to be
successful. The archetypal Sango trait is also shown in the dispassionate manner in
which Othello tells Billie about the break-up of their relationship and his decision to
move in with Mona:
(They continue packing in silence)
Othello: We’re getting married.
(Pause)
Me and Mona. We’re engaged…Officially.
(Very long pause)
Billie: Congratulations.
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Othello: I wanted to tell you…Hear it from the horse’s

mouth… Hear it from me first. You know
Billie: Yeh…Yes. Yes. Congratulation.
Othello: Mona wanted me to tell you. (69-70)
Although her influence on Othello cannot be said to be witchcraft, if any of the female
characters can be called a witch, or has used witchcraft, it is Mona. In her brief but
significant “appearance” in the play, Mona shows that she belongs to the class of
women the Yoruba categorize as iyaami, or more specifically, “Awon obinrin/iya Aye”
(Women of the world). This description derives from Yoruba conception of “woman”
as a term that could be explained from the perspective of “woo” and “man” in which
the former could mean “lure,” “entice,” and “seduce” and by extension, the “wooing
[of] man” which implies women’s power and control over men. Also, the notion of
“Aye” here also adds a metaphysical dimension to the control such women exert over
men, and which may suggest “fear” or “anxiety” among other things (Opefeyitimi
121-2). Mona demonstrates attributes of archetypal characters the Yoruba note for
their “absent-present” personality and the ability to force obedience from people, even
when they are not seen but only heard as she does in the play. They are often
categorized as “atunnida” (Women recreators of humans). The presence of these
women and their ability to manipulate human beings and their fate in order to serve
their purpose are recorded in a particular odu Ifa:
Atunnida waa forii mi bun mi o o Recreators leave my fate as it is
Waa fori mi bunmi o Leave my fate as it is
Atunniyan da a Recreator of Man
Dakun waa fori i mi bunmi o Kindly leave my fate for me.
(qtd in Opefeyitimi 46)
The Yoruba also classify these women as eníyán (irregular human beings) who exert
tremendous influence over the lives of ènìyàn (regular human being). The odu Osa
from Ifa illustrates this point:
Paaka seyin kungii…Paaka stiffened his back into a lump
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Adia dun eniyan Ifa divination was performed for the witch
A bu f’eniyan Ifa divination was also performed for the human beings
Awon mejeeji n ti kole orun bo Both of them were coming from

heaven to wayeearth…
Eniyan bi oun ba de’le aye The witch said that when she arrives
on earth
Oun o ma aba ti gbogbo eniyan je ni She would be spoiling the

handwork of human beings
Igba ti awon mejeeji dele aye tan When both arrived on earth…
Lo ba di pegbogbo nkan ti awon eniyan ni All the belongings of

human beings
Ni awon eniyan nbaa je Were being damaged by the witch…
Eniyan won o je eniyan o ni isinmi The witch prevent human

beings from having rest. (47-8)
Through Amah and Magi, we are able to see the sister-daughter sides of Billie.
Rasheed Olaniyi contends that Yoruba diaspora and home ties are often articulated
through “identity-based” institutions. These come in the form of various levels of
associational and life structures, of religious, ethnic, and occupational nature. These
networks function as mechanisms for managing threats of insecurity. Sometimes, the
people draw on emotional resources, such as friendship and family visits, which help
to strengthen ethnic bonds, such as in the relationship between Billie, Amah and Magi.
These elements of mutual solidarity act as informal mechanisms of social safety and
security, especially in the time of perceived or great adversity. In the long run, the
social networks help the people to maintain, reinforce and extend their relationship
with the homeland and, at the same, they function as key resources in confronting
obstacles to successful adaptation in the diaspora (Olaniyi 237-8). Amah and Magi
play these identified roles, and utilize those identified mutual networks to forge mutual
solidarity with Billie, especially in her moment of crisis.
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Amah is Billie’s sister-in-law but she functions in a more “sisterly” role and
manner. In scene one set against the background of Malcolm X’s speech about the
nightmare of race in America and the need to build strong Black communities, Amah
comes to visit Billie and is also met by Magi. The three women share their experience
like sisters. They discuss the various disappointments they have had in relationships
over the years. They also mention the trade restriction imposed on black people by the
White authority. Amah mentions that she cannot work as a beautician without a
certificate, which she has to get by graduating in a course on how to plait White
people’s hair and apply make-up. As Magi says “each of [our] emotions sprout new
roots, long tangled things, intersecting each other like strangle weed” (30). The
emotional current which runs through the conversation is heightened by the
information about Billie’s miscarriages, the last of which she kept the foetus in a
fridge in the house.
In scene three set in present Harlem against the background of Marcus

Garvey’s address on the need for African Americans to return to their roots, Amah
comes to pay Billie a visit. When she sees Billie, she acts like a mother, and exclaims
“Child you look so thin” and soon starts to plait her hair (41). Like a daughter to her
mother, Billie also unburdens her mind to Amah, especially the grief of losing Othello
to Mona, and how she has tried desperately to prevent the break-up from happening
without success. She also mentions that the outcome of her marriage reminds her so
much of Canada (her father) and mother. She recalls how her father hauled her and her
mother back to Nova Scotia because of a White woman. She says that is why she feels
that “Nova Scotia was a haven for slaves” (45). However, Billie finds solace in her
niece, Amah’s daughter, Jenny, whom she refers to as “my baby.” In fact, she feels
like a mother with Jenny. Later on in another scene with Magi where there is a phone
call, Billie thinks it is from Jenny. She picks up the phone and exclaims with
excitement, “Jenny…Is that you Jenny. My beauty. My little girl. It’s Sybil…Auntie
Sybil…The woman who lives in the cave…” (103). Through Jenny, both Billie and
Magi relive the value of their skin colour. As Amah tells Billie “You tell Jenny
colour’s only skin deep,” to which Billie responds “The skin holds everything in. It’s
the largest organ in the human body. Slash the skin by my belly and my intestine fall
out” (44). They draw attention to the colour of their skin in order to emphasize the
value of their Black identity.
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The daughter/mother relationship is fully expressed in the encounter between

Billie and Magi. Set in present day Harlem, scene seven of Act Two, the dissonant
tone of the music in the background provides a foreboding of what is about to happen.
Magi’s opening speech about a certain Hakim with seven children but who never
married, is interspersed with the remembrance of Patrice Lumumba, the Congolese
independence leader assassinated in 1961 and the “Third World” rally. These
historical figures are similar to archetypal characters from Yoruba mythology. For
example, Lumumba was killed while defending his country, Congo. His sacrifice
recalls Ogun’s daring act in bridging the gulf of transition that occurred, separating
both human beings and deities, after Atunda’s dismantling of OrisaNla, while seven
(of the number of children) Magi mentions is symbolic. This is in the sense that seven
is a metaphor for a complete cycle that one could relate to both the itan being told in
the play, and her own life coming to a certain fulfilment as suggested by the possibility
of engagement to Canada.
More so, the import of Amah and Magi’s roles in Billie’s life is underlined in
scene ten which ends the play. Set in present day Harlem at the psychiatric ward,
Amah visits Billie. After much talk and as she is about to leave, Amah tells her “Some
of us spend our entire lives making our own shackles…and the experienced shackle-
wearer knows the best polish for the gift” to which Billie responds knowingly, “I
wanna be free.” Amah then counsels her on forgiveness “If I don’t forgive my enemy,
if I don’t forgive him, he might just set up house, inside me,” and in tearful
resignation, Billie admits “I just…I---despise---I know…I know…Moment by
moment. I forgive him now. I hate---I love so—I forgive him now. And now” (115-6).
Sears uses these women and the relationship between them to show the value of
community and brotherhood/sisterhood that she hopes Blacks in Canada and her
diaspora kin elsewhere can forge among themselves.
Canada is also invested with the Sango archetypal characteristic. Canada

stands for both “Canada” the country and character in the play. As a metaphor for
place, Canada represents for Billie, a site associated with numerous grievances and
humiliations involving her father‘s alcoholism; and Sears’s way of making her
Canadian audience to reflect on the significance of the name and its connection to the
kind of relationship that exists in the real and the dramatic world (McKinnon 134). As
a character however, Canada represents for Billie, the site where White women began
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to consume the Black men in her life, and most importantly, an example of how the
country has failed in his social relations, how it has become difficult for black men to
have a successful relationship with their own women. In this specific case, I refer to
Canada, the character’s abandonment of his wife, (Billie’s mother) for a white woman,
Debbie, including the serious psychological effect of that break up on Billie, especially
when it is repeated by Othello. However, Canada (the character)’s return and
subsequent decision to stay in response to Amah’s comment about missing him when
he returns to Nova Scotia, “Oh, I don’t think I ‘m going anywhere just yet---least if I
can help it. Way too much leaving gone on for more than one lifetime already” (117),
is both a reassuring statement that conveniently ties up with Stuart Hall’s remark that
“what is at issue [in Harlem Duet] is the capacity for self-recognition” (8), which I
believe that Othello demonstrates but Billie does not on the one hand; and on the other
hand, it underlines both the cultural and political significance of locating orirun/origin,
and/or one’s identity at every moment in time, irrespective of spatial and temporal
distance to one’s place of birth.
The Yoruba aphorism which summarizes this assertion is simple: “Eniyan bo

ni lara ju aso lo” (People are better raiment) which, at its deeply philosophical level,
emphasizes that people should live harmoniously among themselves, after all, as they
also say, “the same rain which falls on the sugarcane, also falls on bitter-leaf” (Ojo to
ro s’ewuro, lo ro s’ireke). Origin and identity (both term that can be used
interchangeably for orirun) are fluid terms, people’s response to either or both, is what
truly matters as the example of Billie and Othello that the play dramatizes.
In this section of the thesis, I have examined how Harlem Duet uses the story
of Billie and Othello to dramatize what the Yoruba call orirun, or identity. I argued
that while Billie assumes that Othello’s new relationship (to Mona) is borne out of a
sense of internalized otherness as opposed to her own sense of blackness and
solidarity, Othello regards her fixation on blackness as the perpetuation of the past that
is no longer helpful. Billie’s brutal response to Othello’s infidelity in his quest to
redefine his relationship to the society ends in tragedy. As Fischlin and Fortier
contends, Harlem Duet “is explicit in the way it constructs itself as a nexus for
different forms of black voices,” but of more importance is the way the play
dramatizes how “Billie’s struggle to deal with her own anti-white racism even as she
seeks to affirm her identity apart from white culture is the crucial contradiction [that]
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the play highlights” (286-7). I also emphasized that, in spite of the tragedy that
accompanies Billie’s attempted vengeance against Othello through the aje she works
on the handkerchief, her estranged father, Canada’s return and their renewed
friendship suggest, “the promise of a dialogue that begins to break with [the] historical
inevitability of racism” (287). I concluded that the essence of orirun is located in the
understanding which Canada offers her daughter, in terms of recognizing one’s
inadequacy in any circumstance and the effort to manage such inadequacy within both
the freedom and imitations posed by the society that one belongs.
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AFTERWORDS
Reflections on the analyses of the Orisa-Shakespeare
“Everything we think, say, or do relies upon ideas, words, and

cultural norms that pre-exist us.”
(Fischlin and Fortier 4)
Thus far, I have used the lens of the Yoruba epistemology and principles to examine
the cultural and political contexts of the Orisa-Shakespeare. I identified a number of
key cultural/aesthetic resources of the Yoruba that the adaptations utilized in order to
“use Shakespeare to create something new” and which I summarize below. These
include: story, naming, and language. As we shall see in the next chapter, these
resources are also central to the development of my own play.
Orisa-Shakespeare uses Shakespeare’s story but not necessarily his plot.

Whereas there is always a process of selectivity involved in adaptation in which the
adapter chooses aspects that are relevant to her/his own purpose, selectivity also
presents a special challenge in terms of the process of creating the new works, as well
as their consumption and evaluation (Adeoti 10). Selectivity is however not new in a
Yoruba context in which storytellers handle inherited materials which are continually
renewed, retold, refashioned and re-arranged over and again, so long as the needs of
the audience are met along with the overall psycho-social expectations of the exercise.
Orisa-Shakespeare also uses naming as an adaptive strategy to show the

difference from the Shakespeare text that have been adapted. In the “Author’s Notes”
to Otaelo, Yerima informs his audience that the name of his protagonist, “Otaelo”
means “a man who chews and swallows”--- to “chew and swallow” means to pursue
and accomplish a certain goal/set objective, except that Otaelo fails in this
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circumstance. In Wesoo, Hamlet!, the slain king, Sayedero (So-aye-d’ero), that is,
“make life bearable or worthwhile to live” is in contrast to his adversary, Ayibi’s
name: (Ayi-ibi), that is, “He who rolls/brings misfortune”, Leto (Ni-eto/Li-eto to
conform to the Ijebu dialect of the play’s setting) and Iyamode (Iya mo-odede) that is,
“The old woman who possesses the sacred secret of the palace” to name the central
characters. uMabatha utilizes phonetic correspondence in Mabatha’s name to
Macbeth, Dangane (unmistakable reference to Shaka’s half-brother and co-
assassinator, Dingane) for Duncan, Makiwane and Donebane for Malcolm and
Donalbain respectively. In Harlem Duet, Billie’s name is Sybil, “It means prophetess.
Sorceress. Seer of the future” (Sears 81), given to her by her father, Canada.
Naming in the Orisa-Shakespeare also allows us to allude to historical

personalities especially through the activities of the fictional characters in the
adaptations. In Wesoo, Hamlet! for example, the roles of Sayedero and Ayibi, as well
as Osofisan’s references to the 1950s, invite us to allude to historical characters
associated with the conflict surrounding Yoruba politics in the Western region of
Nigeria of that period. At the centre of the conflict were two prominent Yoruba
politicians: Chief Obafemi Awolowo and his lieutenant, Chief Ladoke Akintola.
Osofisan’s Sayedero represents Awolowo who was preferred by the Yoruba for his
charisma and exemplary leadership qualities, his political party’s commitment to and
success in providing the people with social amenities which ensured the far greater
development of the region compared to other parts of the country. Ayibi represents
Akintola who was tacitly supported by the Hausa/Fulani led government of Nigeria,
while Awolowo languished in prison, the consequence of which was the escalation of
violence that engulfed the Western region and Yorubaland (Abegunrin 334-52;
Afolayan 297-315), and which has continued to characterize not only Yoruba but also
Nigerian politics.
Orisa-Shakespeare make use of diverse forms of language as determined by

their setting: contemporary/everyday form of language in Lear and Ananci and
Harlem Duet, blend of both contemporary and traditional forms of language in
Wesoo, Hamlet! and traditional language in Otaelo. By traditional language, I mean
the use of owe (proverb), which is an example of a shared cultural material in all the
texts, and an essential trope in itan. Owe proved to be useful and I utilised it a lot to
explain “difficult” epistemological aspects in the texts, and to foreground the points
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that I was trying to make while analysing the Orisa-Shakespeare. As Hugh Quarshie
avers, “interpretation inevitably brings revelation: when we interpret Shakespeare’s
plays, we reveal something about ourselves” (4). Shakespeare adaptations is “a
postcolonial enterprise and a patchwork quilt of many perspectives.” It is not about
how “to rip out and replace old patches with new [ones] or to start the quilt from
scratch, but to add to an ongoing work” (Burnett 7). Essentially, my assumption is
that the Orisa-Shakespeare add their own “patch” to the larger and broader “quilt” of
postcolonial Shakespeare adaptation discourse, by mapping out how Yoruba
worldview and aesthetic principles can function effectively to explain what they mean
in their cultural and political contexts, without necessarily “writing back” to the
Shakespeare canon.
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CHAPTER THREE
Introduction: Retelling Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar
“How many ages hence shall this our lofty scene be acted over,
in states unborn and accents yet unknown!”
(Shakespeare, Julius Caesar, 3.1.111-3)
“The perfect narrative is revealed through the layers of a variety

of retellings.”
(Benjamin 6)
In this chapter, I will draw materials from Julius Caesar to write a new play, entitled,
Emi, Caesar! that addresses the danger posed by ethnic/tribal bigotry to the continued
existence of Nigeria. Although animosity among the tribal groups in Nigeria predates
colonialism, recent happenings show that the situation is more precarious and
terrifying.While Wesoo, Hamlet! and Otaelo engage some of the socio-political issues
plaguing Nigeria, none of the texts examines this particular potential danger. In
writing the play, I am persuaded by Benhabib’s notion of “the redemptive power of
narrative” (169), and the example of Shakespeare who wrote Julius Caesar in 1599 to
warn his own people about the danger of the outbreak of war over succession, having
seen the deadly alliances and schemes, following the aged Queen Elizabeth’s inability
to produce an heir and successor to the English throne.
In doing that, Shakespeare turned to ancient Rome and dramatized the story of
Caesar’s assassination and the violence which followed it, as well asits consequences
to the empire’s leadership. While some might argue that Caesar’s death does not mark
the fall but the rise of the Roman Empire, Nigeria may not survive its own crisis for a
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number of reasons. Apart from the diverse composition of the country that is made of
over 450 ethnic groups some of which harbour intense hatred and bitterness towards
each other, the situation is made more complex by the influence of religion,
corruption and differing political orientation of the people. However, before
discussing how I have used the key aesthetic resources that I identified in the analyses
of the Orisa-Shakespeare (see “Afterwords”) to write Emi, Caesar!, I will first place
the situation which the play dramatizes in context by citing specific historical events
that built up to it.
Emi Caesar! uses the story of Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar to depict events
preceding the collapse of Oyo, the last great empire of the Yoruba, in the 1830s.
During that time, Oyo was at the height of its power, which was achieved through the
military prowess of Yoruba leaders such as Adegun Onikoyi, Edun Gbogun, Timi of
Ede and Prince Atiba of Ago-Oja to mention a few. Unfortunately, where the Yoruba
Empire gained its renown was where it was also very vulnerable. This is because the
conflict between these powerful citizens also paved the way for the gradual
disintegration of the empire from within.
Although Oyo had been challenged before by external threats, none of these
compared to the internal wrangling among Oyo’s elite, who were torn between loyalty
to their own specific tribes and the empire. According to Funso Afolayan, at the
height of the instability from the crisis created by these power brokers, the Fulani
forces attacked, while Dahomey and many other kingdoms formerly under Oyo’s
control, seized the opportunity to break away and declare their own freedom. Oyo
collapsed not so much because of the threat from without, but disaffection among the
people within (Afolayan 298-9). I have chosen this historical episode not simply
because it marked the end of the last great pre-colonial Yoruba Empire, but also
because the collapse of Oyo from internal instability set the pattern that has
dominated Nigerian society and politics ever since, a pattern distinguished by
internecine strife and a failure to learn from the past.
History has repeated itself several times since. The 1914 merger enforced by
the British colonial government on the 450 tribes and kindoms inhabiting what is now
known as Nigeria, only intensified internecine strife. Elections in 1922 saw
skirmishes between Hausa/Fulani and Yoruba factions. In the 1960s elections in the
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then Western region, the same situation was repeated: serious disaffection and in-
fighting between the two prominent Yoruba leaders of the time, Chief Obafemi
Awolowo and his deputy, Chief Ladoke Akintola, led to the collapse of a common
front that could have resulted in the Yoruba gaining control of the political power at
the centre (Afolayan 300). The 1993 election was annulled by Gen. Ibrahim
Babangida---formerly a trusted friend of Abiola---to prevent the election of the
Yoruba candidate, M.K.O Abiola. Elections held since the death of Abiola have been
characterized by skirmishes among the Yoruba, and other tribes in the country, in the
fashion of the age-long feud. In the 21st century, Nigeria remains threatened by
internal divisions which pose serious threats to both the people’s unity and the
country’s continued existence.
In choosing to allude to Julius Caesar in my own play, I considered how

Shakespeare dramatizes the danger in political alliances prompted not so much by
national but more by personal interest, what Mark Antony in the play calls “domestic
fury and fierce civil strife” (3.1.263), which is also at issue in both past and especially
present-day Nigeria. According to Michael Hattaway, Shakespeare’s history plays,
including Julius Caesar, are bound up with tragedy not so much because they
concentrate on important personalities and how they deal with challenges and their
destinies, but because of how their actions often affect their societies. These plays are
remarkable “for their interrogation of sovereignty and the way they portray the horror
and savagery as well as the glories of war, suggesting throughout […] that the course
of human history is evidently ordained by the might of armies and the actions of
particular men.” Besides, considering that the focus of Shakespeare’s “history plays”
is politics, they could as well be considered “political plays in the way that they
reflect upon the course of actions and to historical processes” (Hattaway 8-14), as a
sort of defining structure of enquiry about both human actions and historical events.
As a Russian director, Grigori Kosintsev also asks, “Who said [Shakespeare] was
reflecting history? He was interfering with the present” (qtd in Hattaway 16), and its
likely future relevance.
In drawing inspiration from Caesar’s story to write Emi, Caesar! I use

Shakespeare’s text from this particular point of reference bearing in mind not only its
present, but also future, relevance to the survival and continued existence of Nigeria.
Thus, I also dramatize the alliances between Oyo elites and the consequences of their
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actions. Expectedly the new demand requires change in setting and thematic focus. In
my own play, the actions starts at Oja Oba, the King’s market, as Onikoyi (Caesar),
returns from a victorious battle against Nupe forces, accompanied by his lieutenants
Soso (Mark Antony) and Aroni (Octavius Caesar) and the other army generals,
notably, Edun Gbogun (Marcus Brutus), Timi Ede (Cassius), AreAgo (Cinna) and
Bada (Metellus Cimber). While Onikoyi addresses the jubilant crowd that has come to
celebrate his victory, Timi points out to Edun the danger in the growing popularity of
Onikoyi, a native of Ikoyi-Ile, a vassal state under Oyo, and how it poses a serious
threat to their own position in Oyo. Ifagbemi (Soothsayer) also arrives at the scene
and warns Onikoyi ofdanger to his life, which he (Onikoyi) promptly dismisses before
leaving. Two Oyo elders, Ogundele (Flavius) and Ajasa (Marullus) unsuccessfully
attempt to break off the excited crowd after Onikoyi’s exit.
At home in the company of his wife, Diekola (Calphurnia), Onikoyi sets two
of his slaves free and sentences another one to death for “mistakenly” killing his
friend. Although the condemned slave’s girlfriend pleads for her lover’s life by telling
Onikoyi that they are both expecting a child, Onikoyi insists on the judgement being
carried out. Meanwhile few days later, the other generals meet and decide to bring
Atiba (Publius Cimber), who had earlier been accused of misconduct and banished,
back to Oyo, knowing that Onikoyi will be against the decision, and thus create the
opportunity to take actions against him. After the other generals’ exit, Edun’s wife,
Rolake (Portia) pleads with her husband to change his mind regarding Onikoyi, by
considering the effect of his actions on the land, especially against the background of
the threat from Fulani forces. Ifagbemi also returns to Onikoyi’s house to warn him as
he prepares to attend the ijala that is organized in his honour; Diekola also tells him
about his dream in which she also sees danger. At that moment, Lagbayi (Decius
Brutus) one of Onikoyi’s trusted lieutenant, whom the generals have co-opted into
their plans, enters to persuade Onikoyi to attend the ijala where he is eventually killed
by the generals. Soso and Aroni, joined by Odekoya (Aimilius Lepidus) decide to
avenge Onikoyi’s death; while Oyo generals fight each other, Fulani forces attack and
destroy the empire.
While I use the story of Julius Caesar to dramatize the danger inherent in
tribal bigotry in Yorubaland and Nigeria, I also demonstrate a Yoruba understanding
of the dichotomy between fate/destiny and human action. In most of his history plays
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and especially Julius Caesar, Shakespeare also provides examples that, although a
certain divinity or supernatural force shapes human lives and destinies (which is also
a strongly-held belief among the Yoruba), people should also be held accountable for
their actions: “Men at some time were masters of their fates/The fault, dear Brutus, is
not in our stars,/ But in ourselves, that we are underlings” (1.2.140-2). With this
particular point in mind, I specifically chose the soothsayer’s scenein which a man
who claims that he can foretell the future warns Caesar that the “Ides of March” will
be a day of danger for him. As a source of dramatic action in my own play, I use the
Ifa priest’s scenes to also highlight the epistemological imperative between
fate/destiny and human actions. In those two scenes, I highlight the Yoruba context of
fate/destiny in the saying, “Ayamno o gboogun” (There is no armour against fate), and
Caesar’s comment, “What can be avoided/Whose end is purposed by the mighty
gods?” (2.2.27-8), in contrast to “Owo ara eni la fi ntun oro ara eni i se” (We choose
our path in life) and “Arigisegi to ba segi, ori ara e lo maa fi gbe” (The wood insects
which gather sticks always bear the load on themselves), which emphasize that human
beings are the architect of their own (mis)fortune.
Generally speaking, although my own adaptation is based on Julius Caesar, I

depart greatly from this Shakespeare play especially its plot; hence, my play should be
understood from the perspective of what Fischlin, in “Nation and/as Adaptation,”
terms “interpretive frission” wherein “recognizable aspects of the source-text are
interwoven into the new contexts, however defamiliarized, of the adaptation” (317).
First, in deviating from Shakespeare’s plot, I adopt the traditional Yoruba storytelling
form which is similar to, but also different from, Lear Ananci’s approach.35 While I
use human character (Baasotan) to tell the story, Lear Ananci uses a mythological
character (Ananci) that is invested with human qualities, and while the play begins
from the point of myth based on this fact, my own specifically delves into history
from the beginning.
Secondly, I delay the murder of my protagonist and have it occur towards the
end of the play. Whereas the assassination of Caesar occurs in Act 3, scene 1 which is
35 Although in my own play and Lear Ananci, the traditional call-and-respond between the storyteller and the
audience is discarded. In such an instance, the storyteller sets the stage for the narration by his call “A alo o” (Here
is a story) to which the audience responds “A alo o” (Let’s have the story), thus bringing into operation a different
kind of imagination outside of normal experience. At the end of the story, he says “Idi alo mi ree gbangbalaka/Idi
alo mi ree gbangbalaka” (This is the end of my story), through which he returns his audience into the world of
waking reality (Olatunji 201-21).
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the middle of the story because it allows Shakespeare to show the aftermath, I show
the aftermath of Onikoyi’s murder and the annihilation of Oyo by Fulani forces at the
beginning of my play. The market where the play starts is in ruins after Fulani
invasion and this beginning of the play is strategic. In the era that I depict, a market is
usually situated close to the palace which is both the seat of government and soul of
the land; and, once a market which represents the commercial nerve centre and means
of livelihood and often intimately tied to the palace is destroyed, the entire society is
destroyed with it.
What it means is that my play starts at the end rather than the beginning and
self reflectively moves back to tell the story of how this chaos came to be. I use this
approach to also show that my plot conforms to the Yoruba cyclical sense of time that
is often depicted in itan. Often times, itan presents to us the idea of walking backward
into the future. Even in Ifa divination which embodies the supreme source of itan for
the Yoruba, past events are usually narrated with the future in focus. In order to utilize
this sense of dislocation of time, I also use characters as symbolic representation of
time: Onikoyi as the past, Baasotan as the storyteller, and Boy, as the future. At the
same time, I allow these three characters to interact in a couple of scenes in order to
show how the three timeframes: past, present and future, intersect fluidly in the story
without any form of demarcation.
I also utilise the eeta motif: the entire play is divided into three acts, each
determined by the turn of events: Act One begins with Baasotan and Man at the
market in ruins. I introduce Onikoyi and the other Yoruba generals here and allow the
actions to progress to the point when Odekoya comes to inform Onikoyi of the ijala
being planned to honour him; Act Two begins with the meeting of the conspirators
and ends with Lagbayi’s successful attempt at luring Onikoyi to the ijala as planned
by the conspirators, against the advise of both his wfe, Diekola, and the priest,
Ifagbemi, about his death; Act Three begins at the ijala ceremony, Onikoyi’s
assassination and Soso’s revenge, to the conspirators’ desertion of Oyo and the
empire’s subsequent destruction as I present at the beginning of the play.
Again, I use the eeta symbolism through the three orisa: Ogun, Sango and Esu
that I place in Onikoyi’s compound. The presence of the orisa is also to highlight the
ritual/spiritual significance of the orisa in Yoruba social life and to show how
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Onikoyi fails in terms of his level of spiritual consciousness/connection to the deities.

Although he is the custodian of the shrines of the orisa who represent the regulatory
spirits of his life both in Oyo and in his compound, it is apparent that they do not
mean much to him even though at some point in the play, he propitiates them.
I relocate the setting of the entire play to Ikoyi Ile, Oyo and its immediate
environs, notably Kusu and Iju Sanya, which are historical towns and relics of the
tragedy that Oyo once suffered in the hands of Nupe. In my play, Ikoyi Ile replaces
Caesar’s house; Kusu replaces Sardis where Brutus’s camp is located after the
assassination; the Hunters’ enclave replaces both the Capitol where Caesar is
assassinated and the Forum where Mark Antony brings his corpse and makes his most
memorable speech about the conspirators; leader of the conspirators in my play, Edun
Gbogun’s house replaces Brutus’s house; Iju Sanya and bush paths replace other
locales in the Shakespeare play, especially the street where the poet, Cinna, talks
about seeing and eating with Caesar in his dream.
I also remove Mark Antony’s famous funeral speech, but have Diekola make
the speech. I aim to use this choice of dramaturgy for two reasons: to stress that the
Oyo empire that I tell its story here has no regard for the female principle, and to
show that Onikoyi and Diekola’s as well as Edun Gbogun and Rolake’s relationships
are representative of how the society does not respect the ako a t’abo (male/female)
principles. The attitude towards women in the play is similar to Caesar’s Rome that is
dramatized in Julius Caesar. According to Alexander Leggatt, women’s bodies have
great impact in Shakespeare’s Roman plays, especially because of the patriarchal
nature of their society, where women are just convenient values for their men, who
demand chastity, domesticity and silence from them (238). Elsewhere, I discussed this
male/female spiritual arrangement through the imagery of Ele, the female genitalia
and emphasized how traditional Yoruba were able to forge a culturally-stable society
and succeeded together by recognizing the collaborative role of the male (okunrin)
and the female (obinrin) (Balogun 2015:121-52). It is apparent that Oyo does not
respect the male/female arrangement.
Secondly, I also aim to show that my protagonist and his adversaries are
archetypes of behaviour that are prevalent in contemporary Nigeria, in terms of the
expression of ethnic/tribal emotions that encourage violence. In so doing, I invest my
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central characters with the sensibility of Ogun and emphasize the destructive aspect of
the orisa. To make these traits more visible in my characters, I strip their actions of
any morality. For examples, while Edun and others conspire to assassinate Onikoyi
because their own relevance is threatened by Onikoyi’s popularity, they use tribal
emotion to draw other people (especially Lagbayi, Ajasa and Ogundele) into the plan,
while Onikoyi is also a flawed character: he is arrogant and implacable in his attitude.
Onikoyi shares many traits of Caesar from the perspective of the Ogun
destructive attribute. The manner in which Calpurnia summarizes Caesar’s character,
“Your wisdom is consumed in confidence” (2.2.49), also describes the way Onikoyi
sees and carries himself in the play. Rather than heed the advice of his wife, Diekola
and the Ifa priest, Ifagbemi’s warnings, he shrugs them off. Thus, Onikoyi also shows
that, like Caesar, he is confident in his military prowess, “Danger knows that Caesar
is more dangerous than he is/ We are two lions littered in one day/, and I the older and
more terrible. And Caesar shall go forth” (2.2.44-8). He is also like Caesar in the way
he responds to both his wife and the Ifa priest; “Yet Caesar shall go forth; for these
predictions/Are to the world in general as to Caesar” (2.2.27-9) and “Shall Caesar
send a lie? Have I in conquest stretched mine arm so far/To be afraid to tell
graybeards the truth?” (2.2.65-6), when Caesar discountenances Calpurnia’s dream.
Onikoyi, like Caesar who refers to himself in the third person, “Caesar is turn’d to
hear” (1.2.17) when the Soothsayer calls him in the crowd, also refers to himself in
the same manner.
Although I use the exact names of the historical characters whose lives I
dramatize in the play (with the addition of a few fictional characters), I use the
strategy of naming in the title of the play. I use Emi Caesar! to show a corresponding
play on sound and meaning in relation to Yoruba words. As Osundare writes,
“sounding is meaning, meaning is sounding” more so because the articulation of
words operates “through a complex system of tones and glides; tone is the power-
point, the enabling element in a Yoruba communicative event” (Osundare 2002:8),
and in Yoruba names. In other words, the meaning of Yoruba words are, first and
foremost, determined by their tonal nature. The words are enunciated along a
continuum of tonal levels and diacritic marks (low///; mid/_/; and high/\/), or /mí/,/re/,
and /dò/, are placed on their heads respectively, to show this tonal difference. The
marks ensure that the proper pronunciation and meaning are given specifically
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sounded/articulated words. Without the diacritic marks, a written Yoruba word could
mean different things; for examples, oko (farm/village), oko (husband), oko (spear),
oko (hoe), oko (car/ship), oko (penis) etc. In the case of my title, “Emi” which prefixes
Caesar, it can be translated as either soul or spirit, or even the personal pronoun “I”.
Specifically however, I use the ambiguity of the title to suggest that my central
character is a “reincarnation” of Caesar, both in spirit and peculiarity of experience
even though they are also different from each other, even as they are separated in time
and place.
In my choice of language, I replace Shakespeare’s poetry with owe (proverb)

and verbal tropes like oriki, chants (mostly ijala) with which I dramatize the nuances
of Yoruba cultural life and expressions in the play. Following scholars like Karin
Barber and Adeleke Adeeko, I took advantage of how owe is used in everyday
conversation among the Yoruba and as a trope in their literature, specifically its
essential cultural/aesthetic possibility notably, the intellectual concept of its subject
matter, its mode of transmission which derives from daily habits and concrete images,
and its value in existential lessons.
Although these verbal resources are basically from a stock of expressions

some of which are used in everyday conversation by mostly elderly people, the owe
that I have used in this play are drawn from Owomoyela (2005), the ijala are from
Ajuwon (196-208) and the oriki of the orisa are from Beier (1970) including their
English translations. However, I have slightly twisted some of them to serve my own
purpose in this adaptation; and where I twist them, I reinterpret the translation. But, I
did all the English translations of the songs in the play although they are from Yoruba
folk music repertoire. I also emphasize the relationship between itan and iran
(spectacle) through the ijala--- which exemplifies Yoruba fusion of ritual, play,
performance and spectacle--- that I strategically present before the assassination of
Onikoyi.
Of importance however, is the question of my target audience which is crucial

to how I hope the play should be viewed. Specifically, I direct my adaptation to the
Nigerian audience at home and those in the diaspora, but who have nonetheless
experienced what I talk about in the play and are equally concerned about the
situation in the country. I also believe that the play will appeal to people in other parts
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of the African continent, most especially those who have experienced, or are
experiencing, the debilitating effects of ethnic/tribal conflicts. According to
Bergmann and Crutchfield, racial, ethnic/tribal bigotry often engender violence which
takes many forms: genocide, ethnic cleansing and civil wars which are its extreme and
visible realities, while there are some of its other manifestations, such as
rioting/public demonstration and hate crimes that are not too obvious, less organized,
but also significant in every sense (147). Given that the root cause of some of these
violent acts remain the dissolution of multi-ethnic empires by colonial powers as the
cases of Nigeria, the Tutsi and Hutu in Rwanda and the Kikuyu, Luhya, Luo, Kalenjin
and Kamba in Kenya have shown, the contribution of the colonial powers to the crises
cannot also be ruled out. However, I intend my adaptation to force a reflection on the
part of Nigerians and their expectations regarding the future of the country, which
hangs on a precarious balance at this particular point in time.
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Emi Caesar!
Cast in the order of appearance
Man
Baasotan --- the storyteller
Boy
Man (Caesar)
Adegun Onikoyi --- commander of the Oyo Army
Ajasa
Ogundele } Elders in Oyo
Aroni --- Onikoyi’s acolyte/praise singer
Diekola --- Onikoyi’s wife
Ifagbemi--- the Diviner
Edun Gbogun }
Timi Ede }
Bada } conspirators against Onikoyi
AreAgo }
Ikolaba }
Odekoya --- Leader of the League of Hunters

Odegbami --- his son
Rolake --- Edun Gbogun’s wife
Soso } Onikoyi’s aides
Lagbayi }
Hunters, Soldiers, Traders, Children, Crowd, Drummers etc
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ACT ONE
Scene One
Lights. An old market in ruins. Stalls are emptied of their contents. Small whiff of
smoke can still be seen in a few places, suggesting complete destruction. People are
seen siting in various groups, some moaning softly in pains. Baasotan walks in,
behind him is a boy and another middle-age man, who seems troubled by the sight)
Man
What is this place called?
Baasotan
Oja Oba…the king’s market.
Man
Market? But this doesn’t look… (Pauses and looks

around) What happened here…to the market…to these
people?
Baasotan
Plenty…plenty happened here, my friend. This place used

to be the heart of our land. People came from far and near
to trade with us. To buy from us, and, we, from them.
Money exchanged hands, as did laughter. We
flourished…but now? (Pauses) As you can see, that will
never happen again.
Man
These women used to sell things here?
Baasotan
All of them…and the men…and many of their friends and

women that are dead and those unaccounted for.
Gone…vanished.
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Man
Vanished? How?
Baasotan
How can we tell? We all ran…left everything behind

when Fulani forces came running down the hills, pounding
the earth with their horses, chanting with rage, shivering to
spill our blood. Those who couldn’t run…we have a whole
field behind over there where we buried them. My
daughter was also buried there…with her husband. I am
left with him…their son to take care of. But, how much
can an old man do? How much longer do you think I have
left before joining them in that field? Before this…this
war that has destroyed our lives…the lives of our children,
like my grandson here, we thought we were safe…
Man
Before the war…
Baasotan
You called what happened a war? When we couldn’t fight

but surrender to cruel, senseless slaughter? It was not a
war...it was an invasion!
Man
Yes…before the invasion—what was your own work?
Baasotan
I used to be a storyteller. Chronicler of lives. Mender of

souls with tales.
Man
So tell me what really happened…will you?
Page | 192
Baasotan
How shall I say it? What mouth will tell this kind of
story…what tongue will recall this? Who would care to
listen to how our lives were destroyed in one day?
Man
He will want to know…your grandson, he will want to

know what really happened to his parent…to your
people…these people and those buried behind that field.
Baasotan
He doesn’t need a story…he can see the story. What the

eyes can see never leaves the head—he won’t forget this
sight.
Man
But you owe him still…tell him.
Silence
Baasotan
Sometimes a man appears to bear the destiny of a land on

his shoulders. When he falls, the land falls with him. Oyo
didn’t know this on time…until the Fulani forces came
rushing down our hills, destroying everything that stood
on their way. But, it wasn’t the Fulani that destroyed Oyo-
--Oyo tumbled by its own very hands! But, how shall we
tell this kind of story…how shall we say it? With what
tongue…what?
(A man gets up to sing his oriki)
Man I
Baasotan.
Omo Otuugbedee
Page | 193
Omo Bebo wo,
Koo oto toko bo o
Iku nbe lobo Obinrin
Iku ti i pa ni!i
Baasotan
(Moved)
O seun gan an ni, Alade, omo Ogboja!
Emi o fo’gun to dun-un ‘le d’omo
Ma fo’gun to daa d’omo
Oka ku,
Omo re jo’gun oro.
Baluwe ku,
Omo re a si jo’gun ito.
Nijo moba ku,
Omo ni o jo’gun ise ati itan an mi
Omo naa ni o jo’gun oso eyin.ii
(Silence)
Tonight is a special night. And so I will tell a special story.

But first tell me this: why would the calabash-beater tarry
and refuse to take his leave when the funeral is over?
Woman I
Does he want to inherit the wife of the deceased?
Crowd
(Variously)
I wonder! Who knows! Nonsense!
Page | 194
Baasotan
Indeed! Tell me: what happens to the child that was never
taught how to behave at home, or that one who was taught
but refused to heed instruction?
Man II
It is from outside, right on the street, that they learn

wisdom!
Baasotan
Indeed! Why did we behave like the child who was never
taught wisdom at home, and the one who refused to heed
instructions that were given by the parent?
Crowd
(Variously)
A-ah! Howu! Ki lase? [What have we done wrong?]
Baasotan
If a man engages in a dangerous venture, he does not cast

discretion to the wind! (Pauses) That was what we
did…what he did! (Drumming is heard from afar. Praise
chants are also heard. Shortly a man, dressed in war
attires, appears followed by some men. It is Adegun
Onikoyi).
Man I
Onikoyi oo!
Eso Ikoyi omo adipele mo lo s’ogun
Onikoyi omo ekun Kaba Oke
Onikoyi omo ekun Kaba Lona-gbogbo!iii
Page | 195
Onikoyi
It is the deficiency of biceps that blunts the machete. If a

man has strong biceps, he can cut trees with a cudgel
(Chuckles, then addresses the crowd) Children of our
fathers, I greet you all! We have done what you wanted of
us. Nupe turned their backs on Sango, and dishonoured the
name of Arabambi, Olukoso arekujaye, sangiri ola’giri
ola’giri ka-a-kaa-ka f’igba edun bo!iv They threw dust at
Oyo. They threw ashes and pebbles at us. Isn’t that child a
bastard, who stands outside and throw pebbles into his
father’s compound? And Sango’s anger swelled,
overflowed its bank as the tides push waters ashore. Sango
said Oyo should teach Nupe a lesson, and we did!
(People jubilate)
Baasotan
The gods recognize their own when they see one. They
recognize the scorpion…he stings with his tail; he stings
with his whole body. They send their greetings to the son
of the lineage of conquerors!
Onikoyi
Is it my story you want to tell this time?
Baasotan
Why not?
Onikoyi
(Silence)
What voice do I hear from afar?
Aroni
The Ifa Priest comes to you!
Page | 196
Ifagbemi
(Entering) Beware, son of legendary warriors. That this

sun that shines much too soon might not set mid-day!
Onikoyi
What do I make of your tongue?
Ifagbemi
There is honour…abundant honour…but death stands by

its side.
Onikoyi
Whose death?
Ifagbemi
(Calmly) Yours.
Onikoyi
(Pauses) You saw my death while you divine? I just

returned from the battleground where death lives in
splendour. You see my death? How shall the world receive
the news?
Ifagbemi
If death can kill both the tortoise and the snail with their
iron-cast carapace, what spell does a rooster with its fluffy
feathers boast as armour against death?
Onikoyi
(Chuckles) What made you think of this?
Ifagbemi
You don’t believe me?
Page | 197
Onikoyi:
If it is war that you see, then let it come. Whatever is

becoming for a person is what is becoming; a noose is not
becoming for a chicken. If a warrior turned his back on
war when it is declared, what honour does he boast of…
what is left of him?
Man
I would listen to him if I were you.
Onikoyi
(Turns to Man) Who are you…your name?
Man
My name is not important…is it? But I will urge you to

heed his message.
Onikoyi
(Turns to his men) Who are you?
Aroni
I am Aroni, son of Orimadegun.
Onikoyi
And you?
Soso
I am Soso, son of Bateji, grandson of Aare Ona Kakanfo
Toyeje.
Onikoyi
And who am I?
Soso
You are my lord.
Onikoyi
Your lord who?
Page | 198
Soso
My lord Adegun Onikoyi, Yanbilolu, son of the lineage of
conquerors.
Aroni
(Chants his praise) Onikoyi! Eso Ikoyi..!
Onikoyi
Not now, Aroni! (Silence, he turns to Man) If your name
is not important, how can what you say to me?
(Pauses briefly and turns to his men)
Lead on home to Oyo. The next voice I want to hear is that
of our father, Alaafin Oluewu! (Onikoyi exits with his men
as his acolyte, Aroni, chants his oriki, Ifagbemi stands
looking at him as he departs).
Boy
Who is he?
Baasotan
I thought one of the men mentioned his name.
Boy
I was not paying attention. So who is he?
Baasotan
Come with me then if you want to find out. And, I have to
warn you: do not interrupt my story.
Boy
I promise. Shall we go?
(They all exit except the Generals: Edun Gbogun, Timi
Ede, Bada, Ikolaba, and AreAgo).
Bada
What shall we make of that?
Timi
To what are you referring?
Ikolaba
It is clear, isn’t it? When the evidence suggests an obvious
conclusion, one should not shy away from it.
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Edun
Perhaps our nobles will do well to speak to us in plain
tongue.
Bada
I thought it is matured rooster that settles disputes for
people in the dead of night. Incontrovertible evidence
settles all doubts and disagreement.
Edun
Yet, your tongues still remain twisted.
Ikolaba
If it is only Edun Gbogun that does not see potential
danger in the show that Onikoyi puts up before our very
presence, perhaps it was our mistake. Yet, we shall say to
be mistaken is not necessarily to be unwise.
Edun
Did you all really think I did not see that? Do we have to
make much of that? I thought the person who claps for an
imbecile to dance and the imbecile are no different.
AreAgo
Yet, an imbecile is acceptable in a town but not among
one’s kin.
Edun
They say the beak of a bird snatches whatever the bird
desires, but, believe me, the rock has nothing to fear from
the bird.
Bada
Indeed?
Edun
Indeed! If one laughs while stabbing another, does that
stop the dagger from piercing the skin?
AreAgo
We shall see.
Page | 200
Edun
All the same, we shall keep our eyes on him.
(They move out)
Fade
Page | 201
Scene Two
Lights. Road leading out of Kusu towards Oyo. Noise can be heard from afar. Two
men: Ajasa and Ogundele approach.
Ogundele
I hear voices.
Ajasa
Me too. Perhaps the market women. The King’s market is

not far from here and today is its busiest…so what do you
expect? (They pause to listen) Did you hear that? That
doesn’t sound like a market rant.
Ogundele
They say Adegun returns victorious. Nupe forces have

been defeated! (Song becomes louder as a crowd of people
appears. The people sing triumphantly)
Iwo lo ko je Baba o,
Onikoyi, iwo lo ko je Baba
Bi toro se kere, kii segbe sisi
Iwo lo ko je Baba!v
Ajasa
Peace! Now what is the meaning of this?
Woman I
Have you not heard? Oyo defeated Nupe…the

contemptuous rebels who think our compassion is a sign
of cowardice!
Page | 202
Woman II
And who could have done it if not the son of our fathers
from the lineage of conquerors? Who could have done it if
not Adegun Onikoyi, who could have done it?
Man I
At last we have taught Nupe a lesson that if a dog knows

excrement, and a pig knows a mud pit, the turkey should
also know to whom to direct its fart!
All
Not Oyo again! (They start another round of singing and

jubilation)
Iye ni won o maa wo,
Lehin eiye,
Won o l’eiye mu,
Iye ni won o ma woo!vi
Ogundele
Peace! Hold your peace! (Noise gradually subsides) What

nonsense! Is that why you have all left your wares in the
market unattended?
Ajasa
Aren’t you the same people who praised Edun Gbogun to

high heavens?
Ogundele
I thought these same people called Gbogun an orisa?

Didn’t you call Edun Gbogun an orisa, the saviour of
Oyo?
Page | 203
Man II
Wasn’t the same Oyo sinking beneath the yoke under the
very presence of Gbogun?
Woman II
Right in the very eyes of Gbogun, we lost Mugba

mugba…Abepo…and Kanla, right under his watch.
Man II
Did you mention Kanla? Who doesn’t remember the

defeat of Oyo at Kanla? That was when we knew why
failure dogged our path—why Oyo and the Yoruba
continued to stumble in defeat.
Woman I
Must we spell it out? Yesterday, the antelope was caught

in a pit trap; today the antelope is caught in a pit trap. Is
there no other animal in the forest beside the antelope?
Must we spell it out?
Woman II
I had thought Gbogun would have learnt wisdom from our

fathers: when one becomes old, one stops warring!
Man I
Indeed, when a kite hovers, a chicken does not hang onto

an insect. So in his aged wisdom, our father the king,
Alaafin Oluewu, summoned Adegun from Ikoyi Ile. And,
like his fathers, Onikoyi stood firm at the head of our
forces. Didn’t we all think our men have lost the fight in
them? But, Onikoyi, said they still have fire in them. Now,
what do we have here!
Page | 204
Ogundele
Enough! Enough of your ranting talk! If a tick clings onto

a fox’s nose, it is not a chicken that will remove it!
Ajasa
If Gbogun’s honour has lost its lustre and appeal, it is not

the untrained mouths of wayward children with bruised
tongues like yours that will announce it!
Man II
Is that? But there is something that I know: only two

things are proper for a warrior. A warrior either go to
battle and drives the enemy off, or he dies at the battle!
(The crowd resumes their celebration as they move off.

Ajasa and Ogundele watch as they depart)
Fade
Page | 205
Scene Three
Ikoyi Ile, Adegun Onikoyi’s agbole (compound), outskirts of Oyo.
At the centre of the compound are shrines of Esu, Sango, and Ogun, arranged side by
side. Drums swell lengthily as Adegun arrives with his entourage. He goes to the
shrines, squats and picks up the seere (a small metallic object, which produces a
sound when it is shaken) on the ground. Drums stop playing, everywhere is silent. He
shakes the seere briefly. He mumbles some prayers. He rises and turns. Aroni chants
Onikoyi’s oriki to the accompaniment of the drums. His wife, Diekola, comes out.
Aroni
Yanbilolu
Eso Ikoyi omo eru ofa
Agbon ti o ri ku sa
Omo asiju apo biri da ‘gba ofa so’fun
O po’fun yooyo da’gba ofa si ‘le!vii
Onikoyi
Wife, do we meet you in peace?
Diekola
As I should be, my lord (She embraces him excitedly)

How’s our father Alaafin Oluewu?
Onikoyi
Oluewu sits like a rock in Oyo, still his old self

though…frail and weak of course, but very wise.
Diekola
And the battle?
Page | 206
Onikoyi
Fought and won. Bloody of course, many men fell on both

sides. Well, what is war after all? But on the last count, it
was me and my men, Soso, Lagbayi and the rest, who
stood tall and alive!
Diekola
I am glad!
Onikoyi
But I was alone except for these loyal warriors. Why?
Diekola
Alone? How? Where was everybody...Edun Gbogun, Timi

Ede…the rest of the commanders, where were they? Why
would they leave you unprotected?
Onikoyi
Where were they? Good question. How do we tell? But, I

rose with all my strength, threw all caution to the winds,
and roused my bold and trusted and determined men with
my own battle cry. My men picked up their guns, amulets,
charms, and bows and arrows…everything at their
disposal. We pushed those bastards back, broke their
resistance and snatched honour from the hands of
dishonour!
Diekola
(Sighs) I am glad. I am truly glad!
Onikoyi
Same thing with me. You should have seen our people
when they met us at Kusu.
Page | 207
Diekola
It is amazing how words always travel very fast. We heard

everything here in Ikoyi Ile that the markets in Oyo and
everywhere were closed for days. People celebrated. They
wanted to see your victorious face… and your
men’s…your bold and enchanting faces, perhaps to catch
a glimpse of how you ravaged the Nupe forces!
Onikoyi
You should have seen how they danced all through the
path from Kusu right to the palace of Alaafin Oluewu in
Oyo. Defeat at battles was almost becoming a permanent
garment we wear all around.
Diekola
That’s in the past now I suppose.
Onikoyi
Certainly. And, talking about the past, summon everybody

in the compound, young and old, men and women,
everybody! (Aroni goes in quickly) We shall treat the past
tonight. Oh, how I feel like a god tonight! (Aroni returns,
followed by people of all age. Baasotan and Boy also
come in with them. Silence everywhere. Onikoyi surveys
them, and points at a young woman who gets up slowly,
frightened) Do I know your name?
Young Woman
(Shaking) Morenike. I am Morenike, my lord.
Onikoyi
Come to me. Don’t be afraid. You have done nothing

wrong. Diekola tells me you work with your heart. She
also tells me that you are cheerful, and laugh a lot. Your
Page | 208
hands are done cracking kernel in my compound. I think

you should set them to a more useful purpose (Pauses) Go
meet Aroni. Be a wife to him. Perhaps you will bear him
children who would be blessed with his kind of sonorous
voice (She is shocked, so is Aroni, who recovers and starts
to sing Onikoyi’s praise. She sobs with joy, runs to
Diekola and embrace her) Enough Aroni, I still have some
work to do! (Silence as Young Woman goes to meet Aroni,
who pulls her to his side, both giggling with excitement.
Onikoyi goes to an old man and crouches by his side)
They tell me you were a hunter and a very good one at
that. Perhaps it was only a rumour...what do you say?
Old Man
It is true, my lord. But it’s all gone…the strength is gone. I

can hardly load a gun by myself now, or strap a machete
to my side, or even carry my hunting bag.
Onikoyi
That is obvious, isn’t it? Lagbayi will teach you some new
skills. He is a good warrior and hunter, same with Soso
here. Perhaps one day soon we shall hunt together, you by
my side and, together, we would show the wild that men
can grow old, but not their skill no matter how slow and
weak it might have become (Old Man begins to sob) Oh
did you see that? He cries. Have I done something wrong?
Diekola
He is only happy, my lord (Lagbayi goes to the Old Man,

lifts him up and takes him to a corner) I will get him some
water to drink (She exits, returns with a bowl of water)
Drink. Be fine!
Page | 209
Onikoyi
Why did you do it, Alani? Tell me why! (A young man

rises slowly) We all thought Adelani was your friend, or
perhaps we were wrong?
Young Man
(Stammers) I…I am sorry, my lord!
Onikoyi
I only want to understand why you did it. He shouldn’t

have died…should he?
Young Man
I don’t know. I swear I don’t know.
Onikoyi
Nobody kills anybody without knowing. Common, talk to

me!
Young Man
I was annoyed. He provoked me. But, I swear I have learnt

my lesson. No day passes without my asking his troubled
soul to forgive me.
Onikoyi
Oh, so you also know that his soul is troubled. That is it

then (He goes to the shrine and picks up a cutlass, raises it
for everyone to see) Bear witness everyone. By sunrise
three days from now, Adelani’s troubled soul shall be
appeased (He calmly places the cutlass in its place) Soso,
make sure it is done!
Page | 210
Woman
Don’t my lord! (Silence, woman gets up slowly and walks

towards Onikoyi. She kneels a few feet away, sobbing) I
beg you my lord…let him live!
Onikoyi
Who are you?
Woman
Nobody.
Onikoyi
But you want his life spared?
Woman
I beg you.
Onikoyi
He was angry. We all get angry, don’t we? But only

fools fall victim of their anger. And Adelani’s soul thirst
yet. His soul is trapped, unable to join his ancestors. I
only want to do what needs to be done, and this “angry
man” here knows it.
Young Man
(Quietly) I know.
Woman
You don’t know! (Sobs) He…he doesn’t know, my lord

(Turns to Man) Why don’t you tell him? Tell
him…please, tell him!
Diekola
Tell him what? What should he tell my husband?
Page | 211
Woman
He cannot die. He must not die. My child needs his father!
Diekola
Your child?
Woman
I am with a child…his child. I am three moons gone!
Silence
Diekola
Did you hear that, my lord?
Onikoyi
Everybody heard (Pauses) But, what must be done, must be

done.
Diekola
You cannot do this, my lord.
Onikoyi
Do not tell me what I cannot do! (He exits. Diekola turns

to his men)
Diekola
Soso?
Soso
My lord commands, we obey! (Diekola is perplexed,

runs after Onikoyi. Woman cries loudly as Young Man is
being taken away. Others cry, some run out. Aroni goes
away with his new bride. Everyone else leaves except
Baasotan and Boy)
Page | 212
Boy
How could he do that? That woman said she was

expecting a baby for that man he just sentenced to death.
How could he not be moved by that piece of
information?
Baasotan
Boy, which one of your questions should I answer?
Boy
That was cruel!
Baasotan
You heard him, didn’t you? He said he had sworn by the

gods of his fathers?
Boy
The gods understand compassion, or they don’t?
Baasotan
“Nothing is either good or bad, but thinking makes it so,”

is that not?
Boy
Shakespeare didn’t mean it that way. You are

manipulating it all!
Baasotan
But, this is not Shakespeare’s story; this is mine.
Boy
Fine, but it doesn’t change anything. It was cruel and

brutal. And, how can you tell such a story?
Page | 213
Baasotan
You ask too many questions for your age.
Boy
You said it is fine to ask questions.
Baasotan
Good. Then, what other thing did I tell you while we were
coming here?
Boy
Which one?
Baasotan
About stories.
Boy
You said a story is greater and older than the storyteller.
Baasotan
So, if you want this story to be told, you need to be quiet

(Changes the topic) He comes out with his wife now. Will
you be quiet?
Boy
Whatever! I think we should go.
Baasotan
Yes, I also think so (They both exit, as Onikoyi comes out,

now dressed in dansiki and kembe [a small fitted top and
short that extends to the knees]). He is followed
immediately by Diekola, Aroni and some drummers)
Diekola
I think you shouldn’t have done that, my lord.
Page | 214
Onikoyi
Done what?
Diekola
The Woman. They are expecting a child together. Did you--
Onikoyi
I swore before I knew, Diekola. Stop pestering over what

cannot be undone!
Silence.
Diekola
Ifagbemi sent his boys to propitiate the orisa in your absence.
Onikoyi
Ifagbemi? He did? (Pauses) Why would…
Diekola
I had missed the count, so I sent for him.
Aroni
But the same Ifagbemi came to Kusu and told…
Onikoyi
How is your woman doing, Aroni? (Turns to Diekola)

Perhaps we should show our appreciation by sending him
some gifts (As he walks toward exit) And we should be
celebrating our victory too!
Diekola
(Goes to Aroni) What were you trying to say about

Ifagbemi?
Aroni
What I was trying to say?
Page | 215
Diekola
That he came to Kusu? What happened in Kusu? What did

he tell my lord?
Onikoyi
(He re-enters) He saw me crumbling even as my sun

shines brightly in the sky. What do I make of such a rant?
Onikoyi court battles; he will die at the front, not with his
back turned. Whatever the invalid craves is what causes
their death!
Diekola
(Sighs) Leave us alone, Aroni (Aroni exits with the

drummers) Few days after you left for battle I had this
dream. It was after news had reached us that your men
have been completely routed by Nupe forces and our
people lamented another heavy loss and defeat. I saw a
different thing in my dream. Blood was everywhere as are
mangled bones and bodies. At first I was terrified, then I
saw you standing tall, and I knew you would return to my
bosom. But, lately my dreams have not been clear!
Onikoyi
And you think it has something to do with Ifagbemi’s

message?
Diekola
It is only a small stream that a crab can produce its oil in,
when the water becomes huge and swift, it sweeps both
the crab and its oil away!
Page | 216
Onikoyi
(Chuckles) Indeed! Yet if the wind blew strong and wild

the water in a coconut still remain…you do know that? I
have honours to receive yet, not my death!
Diekola
You still remember the troubles you had when you did not
allow Oyo warriors to pillage Bariba after we defeated
them?
Onikoyi
I suppose that was in the past.
Diekola
Do you really think so? People want the right thing to be

done, but they also fight anyone who wants to do it.
Perhaps some of your men are still angry with you.
Onikoyi
How can they be angry with me? I have done everything I

had to do to keep us safe and sound. I have risked my life
more than anybody else. I have spent more time away
from my house…from you…what else does Oyo want me
to do?
Diekola
I am not saying you haven’t done enough.
Onikoyi
What are you saying? Why would anyone want my death?
Diekola
The same reason why they wanted you to keep Oyo safe.
Page | 217
Onikoyi
If I have truly done that…kept Oyo safe, then I believe it

is not death but honour that yet awaits me.
Odekoya
(Entering into the agbole with Odegbami) The more

reason we should return together to Oyo immediately.
Onikoyi
(Playfully) He comes! Son of the great humbler of the

wild!
Odekoya
And he stands tall among other men…son of the lineage of

legendary warriors. When a king is absent…
Onikoyi
We must salute his palace! (They embrace) Welcome to

my home, brave Odekoya.
Odekoya
Thank you. Here is Odegbami, my son from Amosa. You

remember my late wife from Gbere?
Onikoyi
We will remain grateful to them in Gbere for keeping our

father, Alaafin Onigbogi, safe when those bastard Nupe
first invaded Oyo and he sought refuge in Gbere.
Diekola
But, he also died in Gbere and could not return home to

his palace and people. What a shame for a king to die in
exile! Come Odegbami, let me show you some interesting
things in our agbole (She goes in with Odegbami).
Page | 218
Odekoya
That was really a shame…about Alaafin Onigbogi, don’t

you think?
Onikoyi
Indeed. What do you mean we should return to Oyo

immediately?
Odekoya
The league of hunters prepare a night of ijala to honour

you and our brave warriors. We shall assemble in three
days’ time.
Onikoyi
I am honoured! Just what I was telling my wife, but she

thinks otherwise.
Odekoya
Women…they always look for something to worry about,

don’t they?
Onikoyi
When was the last time you had a good meal in my house?
Diekola will prepare us a good one.
Odekoya
That won’t be necessary. We head for Gbere so that

Odegbami can meet some of his mother’s family, and have
to leave for Oyo on time before it gets dark (Diekola
appears with Odegbami. He is munching a bone) Oh, did
you see the poor boy! (They all laugh)
Onikoyi
Odekoya and his men plan ijala in my honour. In three

days’ time we have to be in Oyo.
Page | 219
Odekoya
You should both be at your best. We will surprise you (To

Odegbami) Come son, we should be on our way (They
exit. Onikoyi follows them. Diekola sighs)
Diekola
Ijala…is this what I saw in my dream? (Sighs) Is this…it?
Fade
Page | 220
ACT TWO
Scene One
Oyo. Edun Gbogun’s compound.
Edun Gbogun and Timi of Ede are in a crucial meeting. Present also are Oyo senior
military officers: Ikolaba, Bada and AreAgo.
Timi
The colombus monkey is never so reduced by

circumstance that it becomes a land-hugging creature. The
vulture is never so badly off that it becomes the equal of a
chicken. What has come over you? Why have you reduced
yourself this low that a child unweaned from his mother’s
breasts take the shine away from your table?
Edun
He doesn’t like me. That much I know.
Timi
And who should apologize for that? Me? He doesn’t like

you but it was you who stood your ground to have him
lead our warriors to battle against Nupe forces.
AreAgo
After what he did to our men in the Bariba case.
Edun
We couldn’t have won that argument. Our men wanted to

plunder Bariba, he stood against it, what should I have
done? He did what our tradition expected of us.
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Timi
Oh, you make me sick when you say this! Those men
fought to safeguard that tradition!
Edun
They deserved to be compensated, but not to plunder. We

were all clear about that. I couldn’t have prevented
Onikoyi for doing the right if our men were losing their
heads!
Timi
So, why cry to us now? I thought we have lost our heads.
Edun
This is a different case, is it not?
Bada
No, this one only makes it obvious. Because you fear

another defeat under your command. Because it would be
one defeat too many. Our people have not forgotten what
we suffered at Mugbamugba and Kanla.
Silence
AreAgo
Say something to that!
Edun
What should I say…that it is not true, that I am not

troubled? What should I say? (Pauses) Well, at least he
has proved me right, has he not? At least I made a good
choice...he is a good soldier...he proved it more than once!
AreAgo
And he proved something else again…about Ojo Amepo!
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Edun
What about Ojo Amepo? He was the Aare Ona Kakanfo

before me…what about him?
Timi
What about him? Amepo usurped your position. What

reason did he give? That you also usurped Toyeje of
Ogbomoso’s position…yet you cannot see all of the
shameful past coming back to shame you all over!
Edun
What? By our gods, Adegun is from Ikoyi Ile…he cannot

become the Kakanfo!
Timi
Are you listening to yourself? It is all too clear you are not
thinking.
Edun
Thinking about what?
Timi
That you are weak…and unreasonable...that this path you

tread will lead to your end!
Edun
What will Onikoyi do? Bring war on me?
Timi
What if he did? What if he rallied the men under his

command to challenge your authority?
AreAgo
Are we really debating this issue? Edun has been digging

his grave long before now. When Alaafin Oluewu said
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people of Ikoyi Ile and the other environs are all Oyo,
Edun was his voice. He endorsed Onikoyi’s appointment
as the field commander in the last battle against Nupe.
Now, are we debating Adegun Onikoyi’s identity? He is
Oyo, simple and clear!
Bada
When you say things this way, AreAgo, you make me

sick. When did the people of Ikoyi Ile become Oyo? The
monkey and gorilla may resemble, but by our gods, they
are not the same thing! That Ikoyi Ile shares her territories
with Oyo and pay allegiance to the Alaafin of Oyo do not
mean that we draw blood from the same loins!
Timi
This guinea worm is fast becoming an ulcer, lord of

Gbogun. No sooner was he appointed commander of our
forces against Nupe did he start to issue commands. No
sooner…and he starts to lord things over us…over me and
the rest of the soldiers that are senior in rank to him!
Bada
Because you, Edun Gbogun, allowed him, sanctioned him,

and established this error! When we sell our own people
cheaply at the market place, how could we possibly avoid
not paying through our noses to buy them back? We have
warriors, courageous men. But, you said ‘No’ to all of
them! You told Alaafin Oluewu, that none of our own men
was good enough. That our assault are not more than
scratches by a baby trying to suckle from his mother’s
breasts, unless the strength of an atohunrinwaviii was
added to boost our feeble claws! Now people say the
guinea worm you are nursing is fast becoming an ulcer,
lord of Gbogun, you tremble. Can’t you see? The wound
Page | 224
left by a cutlass may heal, but the one left by speech never
heals.
Edun
And you believed them? Is that what this is all about?
Timi
An unpleasant inside is what a venerable elder should

have, not an unpleasant mien. Have you heard how the
people of Oyo praise him lately? Better and above your
name! Yet it was because you elevated him! The day an
elder dies is far better than the day an elder is disgraced!
Edun
The spinach is never disgraced in the gathering of

vegetables!
Timi
Really? Why did you summon us? Answer me!
Silence
You say nothing. Indeed, only one day brings disgrace to a

person, the shame is experienced every day!
Edun
Are you blaming me for all this? (Walks away) It is all my

fault. You don’t have to force it down my throat. I know.
Timi
You miss the point again. Who talked about blaming you
or anyone? We are not interested in what is your fault.
What are you going to do about it? That is what we want
to hear!
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Edun
See...that is the problem (Pauses) I don’t know what to do.

I swear by Ogun, the god of War…I don’t know!
Timi
You like the way things are? Is that what you are telling
me… telling us? That the best that is good for Oyo can
only come from Ikoyi Ile, but not from our own loins?
From the fringes of Oyo but not from her very own heart
and bosom…is that what you are saying? (Chuckles) Look
at you…you can’t even sleep soundly any more. It tears
you from the inside…gnaws at your liver, twist your
inside so much that sleep parted from you many moons
ago. Your young wife told me how...
Edun
What? Are you out of your mind? You go behind my back

hopping around my wives?
Timi
I didn’t ask. She told me! (Pauses) You are troubled,

aren’t you? She thought you were losing your mind.
Aren’t you losing sleep because an upstart warrior takes
the shine from you? Miserable Edun, “that General of
yesterday!” Are you not losing your mind…are you not?
Silence
Edun
(Mutters) It’s a shame! It is my shame…I agree with you.
Bada
It is not a shame to be troubled, lord of Gbogun. It will

become a big shame if you cannot do anything about it.
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AreAgo
You have to return to your days of glory. It is another

person’s divination that one does not repeat, not that
which concerns one. Snatch honour from the cursed hands
of dishonour… and do it quickly.
Edun
How?
Ikolaba
How...you ask? Be the Generalissimo that you once were!
Silence
Edun
When is Atiba returning to Oyo?
Bada
Atiba cannot come to Oyo. We banished him and swore an

oath to keep it that way.
AreAgo
Did Edun Gbogun forget that?
Ikolaba
I believe he must has got used to living with his mother’s

people in Ago Oja.
Edun
Obviously you are not thinking with me.
Bada
What do you mean?
Page | 227
Edun
To kill a partridge on one’s farm, one has to be cleverer

than the partridge. Send words to Atiba. And you should
all prepare yourselves!
Fade
Page | 228
Scene Two
Onikoyi’s agbole. Adegun is with his trusted soldiers Soso and Lagbayi.
Onikoyi
Atiba returns to Oyo? Is that supposed to be a rumour?
Soso
His wife and children arrived last night. Our men said
they sighted his caravan moving towards Oyo.
Onikoyi
His Caravan? How do you mean?
Lagbayi
As usual…isn’t it? The caravan bearing his family and

household before he showed up…like a king even when
he is not the one wearing the crown in Oyo.
Onikoyi
Edun Gbogun…Timi Ede…our Generals…do they know

Atiba plans to return to Oyo?
Soso
Our men say Atiba couldn’t be this bold without their

knowing.
Onikoyi
Perhaps now I have the answer to my question.
Soso
What question?
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Onikoyi
Nothing.
Lagbayi
They went straight to Timi Ede’s house.
Onikoyi
And Atiba?
Lagbayi
We suppose Atiba will arrive Oyo in time to attend the

ijala that was called in your honour.
Silence
Lagbayi
You are not saying anything?
Onikoyi
Intention is the eldest, contemplation is the next, and the

plan of action is the third. Atiba couldn’t have planned this
alone. But why are these old men doing this…taunting me,
is it? Does he know about this…Alaafin Oluewu…does he
know?
Soso
He is as confused as you are. No, he doesn’t.
Onikoyi
What can an old man do to reverse all of this…not with

the threats from the Fulani and the little annoyances from
Dahomey…what can he do?
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Soso
Some traders from Oyo were attacked few days ago by the
raiders from Bariba.
Onikoyi
But Timi and Edun are planning to bring Atiba back to

Oyo, these cowards… they could not even deal with
Gezo’s warriors. I whipped their backs and drove them
back. Only cowards fear them… Amazon warriors, they
call them, but I whipped their buttocks and sent them back
to their husbands’ bedroom where they truly belong…I
did!
Diekola
(Enters) If Atiba returns to Oyo, or if Edun Gbogun and

Timi Ede want him, so be it. He is a prince. He is
Oluewu’s cousin.
Onikoyi
I know everything Atiba is, and what the bastard will

never be!
Diekola
You are angry but may I say this is no time for anger? You
have a duty…a task to perform. Isn’t that why Alaafin
Oluewu wanted you and made you the Kakanfo? Like
chained buffalos the Fulani forces still rumble from the
North threatening to overrun our territories. Nupe will
return after their wounds must have healed. The Amazons
of Dahomey will regroup to face our soldiers. You don’t
imagine King Gezo will fold his arms if he truly wanted to
free his people from Oyo’s eternal control, did you? If
Atiba wants to return to Oyo, so be it as long as you are
able to discharge you duties to your king and people.
Page | 231
Onikoyi
So be it? What about the oath we all swore regarding

Atiba? The sanctity of the oath sworn in the very presence
of our gods? Where is that honour? Does it mean it is
nothing…that there is nothing of sacred value in that oath?
Diekola
What about duty?
Onikoyi
What about it? (Pauses) Oh, it’s now all too clear to me. Is
this Oyo politics? Are you…are they using you against
me?
Diekola
Me? Use me against you…how?
Onikoyi
Why would you tell me to close my eyes to this kind of

thing, in spite of the obvious treachery, this gang up
against the Alaafin, against the throne?
Diekola
Are you saying this to me…accusing me?
Onikoyi
Who can I trust again in this part?
Diekola
Even me…your wife?
Onikoyi
(Goes to her, she moves away) In my kind of business,

trust can be a burden you must understand.
Page | 232
Diekola
Even in your house…with your wife…with me?
Onikoyi
Make light of this conversation, Diekola, but think of what

concerns this land. When Ojo Amepo conquered Iware,
where was Atiba? Where was he when we conquered
Okiti, Ajamu, Koto, Ajaba…all of those threats… when I
fought alongside Aare Ona Kakanfo Ojo Amepo? Is Atiba
not a soldier… and a prince? I thought he should be more
concerned about saving Oyo…saving the throne, where
was he while Amepo and the rest of us fought to save
Yoruba land?
Diekola
Atiba was at Gudugbu. He had to go to Ago Oja to attend

to his ailing mother.
Onikoyi
The lie he told everybody! The lie cowards and shameless

opportunists like him tell to win people over to their side,
only to disappoint them in grave consequences!
Diekola
If that was it, why not let him continue to live the life of
lies that he had chosen?
Onikoyi
No, I cannot, Diekola. I cannot. I shall not!
Diekola
Why not?
Page | 233
Onikoyi
Because the men who died… brave men who laid down
their lives defending the honour and integrity of Oyo
would have died in vain. Because Atiba’s return to Oyo
makes a mockery of their sacrifice!
Diekola
(Turns to the men) I want you men to leave us

alone…please I beg of you.
Lagbayi
We came…
Demoke
I know you came to give him a report as always. But,

please I want to speak to him…as my husband, not a
warrior (Pause, no movement) I said I want…!
Onikoyi
Diekola!
Silence. Onikoyi gestures at the men to leave.
Onikoyi
Stay with Aroni at the grove (Men exit) What is this

about? You do not shout at these men…ever!
Diekola
(Kneels) I think there is something you are forgetting. As

the bee hums and the small calabash containing charms
also hums, the intestine must not be silent. One should not
ignore one’s problems in spite of other people’s
preoccupation.
Page | 234
Onikoyi
And what do you think is my problem?
Diekola
Everything else but Atiba.
Onikoyi
Atiba is my problem! Our problem! Atiba is the problem

of Oyo!
Diekola
(Sighs) There is a particular way a man would eat his food

and people would call him a thief. Familial obligations do
not extend to diseases; let each person look well to their
arms!
Onikoyi
Really? What is this about, Diekola? You don’t believe

that what I am pursuing here makes sense, or should be of
any importance? What is this about?
Diekola
That is it.
Onikoyi
That is what?
Diekola
Then you have not heard them…what they say? You are
not even an Oyo man. Perhaps not a proper Yoruba!
Onikoyi
Whoever is saying that? Who is saying that? My father

fought battles and died defending Oyo. My father’s fathers
shed their blood, laid down their lives so that Oyo may
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continue to stand. I have fought battles all my life, not

only to defend Oyo, but Yoruba land…who is vomiting
such poison? Who wants me out of the circle after staking
my claim at the centre of it?
Diekola
Are you really sure you have staked enough to lay that
claim at the centre…by their own standard?
Onikoyi
Whose standard?
Diekola
We will remain small groups of people divided by what

should ordinarily unite us…unless--
Onikoyi
Unless what…tell me!
Diekola
You have something else to fight than fighting Atiba. I

even wonder what his return to Oyo will add to what we
already are.
Onikoyi
What some of us have spent a greater part of our lives

fighting…treachery!
Diekola
Yet you have something more to prove than fighting Atiba.
Onikoyi
(Exiting) I have nothing to prove to anybody!
Page | 236
Demoke
Then you should listen to my dream!
Fade
Page | 237
Scene Three
Edun Gbogun’s house.
Edun Gbogun meets with Lagbayi, Ogundele and Ajasa are also in attendance.
Lagbayi
I don’t understand, my lord Gbogun. You said I should

serve him. You said I must trust him with my life as my
father trusted you. You said…
Edun
Do you think I am too old to remember what I said? But

right now, I want you to listen to what I am saying. Is that
difficult for you to do? (Pauses) This song has to change
as its dance step.
Lagbayi
Now you want me to switch allegiance?
Edun
You still don’t understand, Lagbayi? An abandoned well

kills a horse and we rejoice but the same well will in time
kill a human being if we do not take precaution. This is
taking precaution, Lagbayi (Pauses, sees that Lagbayi is
not convinced).This is not about what is right or wrong; it
is about doing what is necessary…for Oyo.
Lagbayi
But I thought everything Onikoyi has done is for Oyo.
Edun
Any proper Oyo man would have done same. You could
have done the same and much more!
Page | 238
Lagbayi
But, he is our field commander…General of the Day. You

appointed him. And you asked me, and all of us, to obey
him…take instructions from him, and trust him with our
lives. And like your obedient son that I have always been,
I gave him my total allegiance.
Edun
That is the point: loyalty. That is why Oyo is different. We

understand what loyalty means, we stand by it, and die for
it if necessary. You have shown example.
Lagbayi
Thank you my lord.
Edun
You should thank me when everything is returned to their

proper places and everyone where they truly belong
(Pauses) There is no stopping Atiba from returning to
Oyo. When locusts are done feeding on a farmland, they
return home. Atiba’s sojourn is ended, must we deny him
a return to his father land? And it is not just having Atiba
return to his father’s house, it is also about making sure we
do not repeat past mistakes…ever again!
Lagbayi
So where is lord Atiba now?
Edun
Where he is supposed to be.
Lagbayi
In Oyo?
Page | 239
Edun
Where else do you want him to be?
Lagbayi
And, he will attend the ijala in honour of my lord

Onikoyi?
Edun
Perhaps. It all depends on you.
Lagbayi
Me? How?
Edun
See to it that Adegun attends the ijala.
Lagbayi
Why is that necessary? He knows he is being honoured,

why won’t he?
Edun
Make sure he doesn’t change his mind.
Lagbayi
And when he attends?
Edun
For our collective good. Especially yours.
Lagbayi
What are you talking about?
Page | 240
Edun
Let us just say Edun Gbogun wants to right what he did

wrong (Pauses) See to it that Adegun doesn’t change his
mind.
Silence. Lagbayi exits
Ajasa
That is it! It is the goat that dies at the time of the

harvesting of yam that asks to be eaten with pounded yam.
Edun
It is too early to rejoice. I doubt if my words sit well in the

veranda of his ears.
Ogundele
If he needs further prodding, that is not a difficult task. We

can ensure that happens.
Edun
Thank you. It will not go unnoticed.
Ajasa and Ogundele exit. Edun paces about. Romoke

enters, stands by the entrance.
Rolake
Come to bed, my lord. It is getting late.
Edun
I can see it is getting late.
Rolake
Then, come to bed.
Edun
(Sighs)
Page | 241
Rolake
Your men say he is not an Oyo man. But does that really
matter after everything that he has done for Oyo? You
recommended him to lead our warriors and stood by his
choice because you believe in, and trust him.
Edun
I must have been beside myself when I did that.
Rolake
Because he deserves it. Because he has shown the strength

and skill deserving of a commander and he has not once
failed you since he took charge...not once. Why are you
not considering that, my lord?
Edun
Whatever you have in mind, just say it.
Rolake
One arrives according to one’s worth; a horseman often

arrives with hoofs and stirrups. Onikoyi arrived! You need
to let go of this feeling… please!
Edun
What feeling?
Rolake
You know what I mean, my lord. No matter how tall

Onikoyi rises, he will still remain under your shadow. You
do not need to limit his height...or his effort to rise.
Edun
If the leopard does not act mighty, won’t people take it for
a cat?
Page | 242
Rolake
Oyo chews more bones which can injure the gum. That
should be a matter of concern than waste time debating if
a bush fowl had enough meat. Besides, I don’t think Atiba
is a good bait in this affair. You do not cause a flood
because you wanted to catch a rodent that run into your
bedroom. Atiba isn’t really the right---
Edun
Who has been telling you things about Atiba?
Rolake
Or what you have been telling me in your sleep? You

hardly lie down by my side every night before the whole
business of the day is laid bare in my palms. You have not
had a sound sleep in many days. You even age quickly
now. Why not let things be, my lord? Whatever a man
cannot cure, he must learn to endure.
Edun
You are a woman. You understand very little.
Rolake
But I do understand that if a man has to recite genealogies

to establish his claim to inheritance in a place, it means he
has no claim to patrimony there in the first place. You do
not need to go to great length to assert your authority and
honour. As long as Adegun is victorious, the honour still
comes back to you for making the right choice!
Edun
Then you know very little about the way of this life.
Page | 243
Rolake
(Pauses) I will be on the bed…waiting for you.
She exits. Silence
Edun
I will have my honour back!
Fade.
Page | 244
Scene Four
Along a bush path.
Ajasa and Ogundele quickly catch up with Lagbayi.
Ajasa
So, what are you going to do?
Lagbayi
What am I going to do? It doesn’t make sense at all!
Ogundele
Good things don’t usually make sense at the initial stage.
Lagbayi
What is good about this?
Ogundele
Everything is good about this.
Ajasa
Lagbayi cannot understand because he has made up his

mind not to understand.
Lagbayi
Because you haven’t seen Adegun at the battle ground.

You cannot understand his sense of patriotism. I have
never seen anyone so bold… determined…committed—all
for Oyo! And, how can I understand when we start talking
about who is from Ikoyi Ile, and who is from Oyo. Aren’t
we all Yoruba?
Page | 245
Ogundele
The palm tree and the coconut tree may stand tall and
resemble each other, but we all know which is more
productive. We all know the difference when it matters.
Ajasa
Because you were not really listening to the people when

Onikoyi returned from battle, it is difficult for you to see
why Edun Gbogun wants Atiba. What do you think will
happen if Alaafin Oluewu dies tomorrow? I wonder if you
still remember the story of Bashorun Gaha, the kingmaker
and king destroyer. You do not want that history to repeat
itself.
Lagbayi
You think Adegun Onikoyi could become another Gaha?
Ajasa
It is a trap that the giant rat disdains that wrenches its

testicles backwards. Dangers that one belittles are likely to
cause great havoc.
Lagbayi
Not him…not Onikoyi.
Ajasa
But, he dispenses justice, his kind of justice that is bereft

of feelings.
Lagbayi
He had one of his servants executed, is that what you

wanted to tell me?
Ogundele
After pleading he was going to be a father!

Page | 246
Lagbayi
His wife pleaded, not him. I was there.
Ajasa
What difference does that make? He killed him anyway!
Ogundele
Bashorun Gaa, the kingmaker and king destroyer…that

was how he started. May our gods forbid that another
Gaha should rise in our time…before our very eyes…and
all we do was urge him on!
Lagbayi
And, why bring Atiba? Until a king joins his ancestor,

another one is never crowned. Alaafin Oluewu yet lives!
Ogundele
An old and weak king?
Lagbayi
It is sickness one can cure not old age, isn’t it?
Ajasa
Edun Gbogun says, bring Adegun to ijala. That is simple

enough, isn’t it?
Lagbayi
Simple? How can you know? That was a declaration of

war. You are farmers, aren’t you? How can you possibly
understand what Edun Gbogun meant? They know too
well that Onikoyi will stand against Atiba’s return to Oyo.
Are they planning to start a war when we are still
struggling to drive away our assailants?
Page | 247
Ogundele
Well, in that case he should be up to the task.
Lagbayi
It doesn’t make sense! He will only see treachery in this

move, and why won’t he?
Ogundele
If you ask, I think war and treachery are different ways of

describing the same thing.
Ajasa
Didn’t you tell me: a warrior must do something much

more important than killing the enemy at the battle
ground; that he must also stay alive and master the art of
surviving; that he must do what is necessary at every point
in time? Isn’t that what makes him different from farmers
like us…why you are different?
Lagbayi
And you think that’s what we need…at this time?
Ogundele
Why are you really making much of this simple task?

Ensure Onikoyi attends ijala, is that too much to do?
Lagbayi
I didn’t say that, did I?
Ajasa
Then go on and do it.
Lagbayi
I only fear what could happen if Atiba also attends the

ceremony.
Page | 248
Ogundele
These are old men, Lagbayi. They can take care of

themselves.
Lagbayi
Really?
Ajasa
The person digging a grave is the one performing funerary

duties, those crying are merely making a noise. Prove
yourself a warrior; when a duty is one’s turn, one does not
dodge it!
Lagbayi
It is not out of fear that the palm tree pleads to be allowed

to stand; it is on the account of tomorrow’s palm wine.
Ajasa
Except that what we have the good sense to preserve today

will yield benefits for us all in future. Think about it!
Fade
Page | 249
Scene Five
Ikoyi Ile.
Onikoyi’s agbole. Adegun Onikoyi is by the shrine. He squats and pours libation.
Dirge at the background
A o m’eni fe t’eni o
A o m’eni fe t’eni
A ri won l’oju, ari won ni ‘rin ese
A o m’eni fe t’eni.ix
Onikoyi
Esu Laalu
He is Esu,
Who turns right into wrong, and wrong into right
He is Esu,
Who throws a stone yesterday and kills a bird today!
Esu slept in the house,
But the house was too small for him.
Esu slept on the veranda,
But the veranda was too small for him.
Esu then slept in a nut,
At last he was able to stretch himself!
Page | 250
He is Esu,
When he is angry, he hits a stone until it bleeds.
When he is angry, he sits on the skin of an ant.
When he is angry he weeps tears of blood.
Esu do not fight me!
But, is this you, Esu? Is this you playing your pranks,

pitching brothers against themselves? When two brothers
fight over a piece of rich farmland, a stranger reaps the
bounteous harvest. Isn’t that the wisdom of our fathers? Is
this you, Esu, at your deceitful best?
Sango, I salute you!
Soldier. Emperor. Scourge of felons
Who rides fire like a horse.
The god who died in the market place
And woke up in the house
Sango walks alone but enters into town
Like a swarm of locusts!
Sango, why are you silent when your throne is being

desecrated? I do not understand your silence when your
vicegerent, Alaafin Oluewu, is being humbled and
disgraced wrought by the hands of some of your bastard
children…why Sango?
Ogun Onire.
God. Pathfinder. Needle that pricks at both ends!
Page | 251
Ogun kills on the right and destroys on the left,
Ogun kills on the left and destroys on the right,
Ogun kills in silence.
Ogun do not fight me, I belong to you!
When the path became clogged at the earliest time, it was

you, Ogun, who broke resistance and paved the way for
passage. My path is strewn with treachery, Ogun give me
your strength!
Ifagbemi
(Entering) How about a person who vows to disgrace you,

and you respond that there is no way he can succeed, but if
he spreads the word that you did not clean yourself after
defecating, to how many people will you display your
anus to prove him wrong? What if a devious person goads
one to confront a leopard and fill one’s quiver with broken
arrows, what then shall we do?
Onikoyi
(Turns and rises) Whatever the rest of the world does, I

will not forswear! (Ifagbemi sits, brings out his opele and
divines, Onikoyi sits on the ground with him)
Ifagbemi
Asadanu, asadanu l’omode n sakuta Ode baale
Adia f’aye
Ni jo t’oun ati isekuse jumo n s’ota
Nwon ni ki aye ru’bo
Aye ko ko ru
Esu ba ni ki awon mejeeji wo ijakadi
Page | 252
Isekuse ba gbe aye sanle
Won ni: E ma wo o
Isekuse de’le aye o.x
(Pauses briefly, then continues)
Bi e r’aye e sa f’aye
Bi e r’aye e sa f’aye
Isese waye ijimere dudu
Aye naa lo t’aso ijimere b’epo
Aye naa lo p’ogidan
Ogidan oloola iju
Bi e r’aye e sa f’aye.xi
Silence
Onikoyi
Why are you not talking?
Ifagbemi
This is not looking good…not good at all!
Onikoyi
Still what you read from your opon Ifa is my death?
Ifagbemi
And for a start do not attend the ijala.
Onikoyi
That was called in my name and honour?
Ifagbemi
And be vigilant!
Page | 253
Onikoyi
(Rises) Whoever does that…hide somewhere…when

people aim to honour him?
Ifagbemi
(Sighs) Then say nothing… and do nothing.
Onikoyi
Even if circumstances demand that I do otherwise?
Ifagbemi
Say nothing
(Ifagbemi packs his stuff and rises, moves towards exit and
stops)
Do nothing.
Onikoyi
What are you trying to make of me?
Ifagbemi
Do not say…
Onikoyi
I came back from wars that should have terminated me, so

do not tell me what you think I should not do…ever! If
your opele insists that Onikoyi will die tomorrow or even
tonight, my fathers’ say, NO, he yet lives. Yanbilolu will
not die before his time! (Silence, Diekola enters
unnoticed)
Ifagbemi
The insect which the woodpecker kills suffers from one of

two things: it is either deaf or stupid. You came back from
war, but you have not finished the battle.
Page | 254
Onikoyi
I am Odumbaku. I died many years in the past. What is

left is my after-life, believe me! (Walks away and sees
Diekola) See to it that his gift is well packaged.
Ifagbemi
I do not need your gift.
Onikoyi
But you need to leave my house… now. And do not return

unless I send for you!
Ifagbemi
Of course, son of legendary warriors (Ifagbemi exits.

Onikoyi stands looking at him as he exits. Aroni enters)
Onikoyi
Aroni, go and get my things ready and get yourself

prepared as well. We have an ijala to attend in Oyo
tonight. We must leave on time.
Aroni
I wanted to report…my lord.
Onikoyi
Not now. Go get prepared (Aroni exits. Onikoyi turns to

his wife) Are you coming with me to Oyo?
Diekola
The Priest…he wants you to stay at home, isn’t it?
Onikoyi
He wants nothing like that from me. Are you coming to

Oyo or not?
Page | 255
Diekola
You don’t lie to me. Please, don’t start now…my lord.
Onikoyi
How can he insist on that? Me? Sit at home and be quiet

even if the occasion demands that I speak?
Diekola
Because that is the sensible thing to do.
Onikoyi
Or, the most cowardly?
Diekola
Only that one who is insane will ever call you a coward
(Silence) I had another dream yesterday. Three times I
have had the same dream.
Onikoyi
(Going towards the inner room) I will listen to your

dream, but not now.
Diekola
Because you know it’s about you?
Onikoyi
(Stops) About me? Your dream is about me? Come then,

let us hear it.
Diekola
Plenty celebration, a lot of dancing, and chanting.
Onikoyi
The ijala in my honour is tonight. There will be a lot of

what you saw.
Page | 256
Diekola
Everybody was there, but you were not. I searched

everywhere, yet couldn’t find you.
Onikoyi
You have not been sleeping well lately. Your heart is

heavy. Never mind, after tonight, we shall have enough
time to cuddle and make love.
Diekola
You think my emotions make me unwell and disturbed?
Onikoyi
What else could make a woman lose sleep?
Diekola
You don’t know when to stop, do you? When your mind is

made up about something even if it means hurting people
close to you?
Onikoyi
What do you want me to do, Diekola? Say it. But not to sit
at home and pretend to be unwell when I am hale and
sound. What do you want me to do?
Diekola
Listen to me.
Onikoyi
I am.
Diekola
No, you are not (Pauses) A horse is powerful, it runs and

gallops with strength that even a thousand animals can
Page | 257
never muster, but, sometimes it falls. Can’t you

understand that as well, my lord?
Lagbayi enters.
Lagbayi
Do I meet my master in peace?
Onikoyi
Come on in, Lagbayi. You are just in time. Diekola

worries for my safety. She thinks I am in danger.
Lagbayi
Danger? Well, I won’t say that.
Diekola
Because you don’t know?
Lagbayi
Because when we start living our lives governed by fear,

the land itself will tumble---buried in uncertainty. And,
come to think of it: who really understands what danger
means than the son of Onikoyi? When people go to war,
they go with their hearts. They go with their heads. When
we slaughter them, we cut off their heads and then remove
their heart from their chest, leaving them to meet their
ancestors as empty shells.
Onikoyi
Did you hear that? Lagbayi always speaks with sweetness,

as his strong arms that I trust at the battle ground. But,
Diekola sounds very convinced. Perhaps you will send
words to Odekoya and his men…
Page | 258
Lagbayi
You are not thinking of calling off the ijala…because she

fears for your safety, are you?
Diekola
There will always be some other time to honour him. Tell

the nobles other pressing matters came up that Onikoyi
must attend (Aroni enters) Go with Aroni and give them
our regrets.
Lagbayi
Everybody is waiting for him…those who matter both in

Oyo and its environs.
Diekola
He sends his regards and never intends to disrespect anyone.
Lagbayi
The horse in front is the one that leads a race for others
behind to set their own pace…never a trembling horse.
Diekola
He is not shrugging off his duty. He is just taking the right

steps.
Lagbayi
This is fear…simple and clear. How can I say it to our

men, that the man I fought by his side at the battle ground
hides under the thighs of his wife because she is afraid?
The man who led the onslaught against Bariba, Dahomey
and Nupe, crushing them in brutal rage, how shall I deliver
the news? Fulani forces are lurking at the corner. How can
we stand tall and bold in front of the threat when our
Page | 259
Generalissimo, my lord Adegun Onikoyi, buries his head

in fear?
Diekola
Tell them whatever…
Lagbayi
That he chose to hide under the skirt of his wife!
Onikoyi
Enough!
Silence
Lagbayi
My lord, I will tell our men that you are unwell if that is
what you want.
Onikoyi
I said enough!
Lagbayi
Enough? When you still stand here swayed by her

emotions? Could we have won those wars you led, the
battles I stood beside you fighting in unfriendly territories
where the sound of swords and piercing arrows are the
only thing we were hearing, if we were afraid? You didn’t
tell me you will come home to become soft and easily
manipulated by your wife, or hide under her thighs when
you saved me in the hands of the Dahomey warriors. You
should have left me to die rather than be the one to stand
in the presence of the Generals and lie to them that you are
unwell because your wife wanted you to be unwell!
Diekola
Stop telling him things!

Page | 260
Lagbayi
Why? Because he will change his mind?
Diekola
Because you will only hurt him!
Lagbayi
Hurt him? I am not the one hurting him, you are.
Onikoyi
Get me my apparel.
Diekola
My lord?
Onikoyi
You heard me… get me my apparel.
Diekola
You cannot attend this gathering.
Lagbayi
Why?
Diekola
Because… (sighs).
Lagbayi
Because…say it.
Diekola
Don’t prod me!
Page | 261
Aroni
(Enters with Onikoyi’s apparel. He changes his clothes on

the spot as they speak)
The report my lord?
Silence
It is urgent, my lord!
Silence
Onikoyi
Speak.
Aroni
Words just came in…Fulani forces routed Bariba two days

ago. They moved down across the river towards Gbere,
destroying everything along their path. Nine Gbere
soldiers managed to escape. They brought the news.
Lagbayi
Did you hear that, my lord? Remind me of the time we

ever slept soundly without a sigh and a moan, when worry
and despair weren’t mixed up with our sleep? That is what
happens when fear lives right inside the heart of anyone
(Turns to Diekola) Shall we not listen to this?
Onikoyi
It is enough, Lagbayi.
Lagbayi
Whatever you say, my lord. But, I think it is below you to

say you are unwell.
Onikoyi
(To Aroni) Where are the men who escaped?
Page | 262
Aroni
Under Soso’s care. They told us Fulani forces push

forward. Closer to Iju Sanya after which they will head
straight for Oyo!
Diekola
I would rather these threats should be of more concern

than the ijala upon which my lord disparage the voice of
Ifa and mine.
Onikoyi
But entertain fear that could dampen the morale of our

men and kill their zeal to crush our enemies?
Diekola
This isn’t the first time Oyo will succumb to threat.
Onikoyi
But, we won’t because of that fail to attend tonight’s ijala.

After this night, we shall meet the Fulani forces strength
for strength and teach the ambitious fools new ways of
fighting and routing stubborn enemies!
Aroni
May I ask a question, my lord?
Onikoyi
Still on the Fulani?
Aroni
No my lord, what Ifagbemi said…
Onikoyi
(Sternly) He said nothing!
Page | 263
Aroni
What do you want me to do, my lord?
Onikoyi
Tell your wife her thighs must wait tonight. You come
with me to Oyo.
Onikoyi
Lead the way Lagbayi, Aroni will join us.
Diekola
Wait! Wherever one finds the greatest disaster, one also

finds the greatest lamentation. Just so you know what you
are bringing into this house with your resolve (Onikoyi
exits with Lagbayi, Diekola sits apparently sad. Baasotan
enters with Boy. They both look at Diekola)
Boy
Well, he is off to the feast, isn’t it?
Baasotan
It seems so. Well, he has to.
Boy
What do you mean he has to? Why can’t he just listen to

somebody? The priest for instance; his voice was clear
“with a clear tongue shriller than all the music.”
Baasotan
Now Boy, will you leave Shakespeare out of this? This is

my story!
Page | 264
Boy
Then change something in this story. Or just say

something to his wife, assure her of his safety…change
something…please!
Baasotan
The story—
Boy
Is greater and older than the storyteller, I know!
Baasotan
Well, if you want to change something, it’s not here

anymore.
Boy
(Interested) Where?
Baasotan
We have to get to Oyo in time before the ijala starts (He

dashes out)
Boy
(Running after him) You can’t leave me behind, old man!
Fade.
Page | 265
ACT THREE
Scene One
Oyo. The Hunters Enclave.
The League of Hunters and all Oyo’s military Generals are in attendance. The ijala in
honour of Adegun Onikoyi is in progress.
1st Hunter
Ogun o o!
Ogun Onire oko o mi.
Igba akoko t’Ogun mbo wa ‘le aye
Aso ina lo mu bo ‘ra ewu eje l’Ogun wo sorun
Ire lode lo d’ologomo aso
Ti n wo mariwo s’orun!xii
2nd Hunter
Yanbilolu oo!
Ikoyi eso omo adipelemo logun
Bi ng ba n re ‘le oga mi
Adegun omo asaju inu agbo.
Eruwa o gbodo sun ‘gbe omo eru ofa.
E ma a bo e wa m’okoo mi
L’ogun ba kan ‘lekun kokoko o.
Aya Olukoyi ni “Baale mi okoo mi.”
‘Un to mu o leekini
Page | 266
Ti ko lee mu o
To mu o leekeji,
Ti ko lee mu o.
Kinni ohun lo tun n pad abo yi.
Sebi ajagun ni babaa re?
Gbera nle o dide o bogun lo.
O ni “Bi a bi ni si lomokunrin wa
Sigidi owo otun dide Ologun lo
Eyi to leti o leti mo
Sigidi owo osi dide o logun lo
Eyi to lenu o lee fohun mo
Taarin gungun
Gbera nle o dide o logun lo.
Eyi to lese ko lee dide mo
Legun ba ra girigiri solukoyi
Olukoyi ni “Ng o se seyi se?”
Omo akin se i dojo.
O ni “Firifiri luju i se ti fii wo ‘mu.
Googoo laguntan i wo.
Bi osan bi oru ni i salaso dudu
Bi tasa ba ‘bode a fe e ku.”
L’Olukoyi ba lo mogun lowo.xiii
3rd Hunter
Yanbilolu o!
Page | 267
Eso Ikoyi omo eru ofa
Jagun to gbomo re lowo ole
Gbonya danu ni ara ana re
O gbe egbaa junu
Fara mo ‘ra
Ara lo n gbe ni.
Egbaaa o gbe ni.xiv
Bada
Stop the proceedings!
Silence
Ikolaba
Before a ram’s tethering rope slips to its horns, shall we

dwell on matters which concern us all?
Onikoyi
I thought we are here to drink and merry. Wine and

serious talk are not the best of friends.
Timi
Except that this matter concerns you in the main.
Onikoyi
Like I said, lord Timi, this is hardly the place for any
serious talk. If this matter which concerns me is so
pressing, I would rather it is discussed when are all sober.
Timi
In time before Prince Atiba returns to his father’s house

tonight?
Page | 268
Onikoyi
(Chuckles) Perhaps his mother’s people have pushed him

away because he shames them with his cowardice.
AreAgo
That is an undignified way of talking about a prince!
Onikoyi
More undignified than a prince turning his back on his

people…his land of birth when it mattered? (Rises) What
was more degrading than his cowardly conduct when Oyo
came under heavy attack, when our territories were
ravaged by war and aggression? What was more
degrading, I ask you!
Odekoya
Relax Adegun…you speak in the presence of honourable

men!
Onikoyi
Then tell men like AreAgo to choose their words carefully!
Timi
Sit down!
Silence, Onikoyi sits calmly.
Edun
You insult my presence, Adegun.
Onikoyi
Apology, my lord.
Page | 269
Edun
What Timi said about Atiba…isn’t that the right thing to

do?
Onikoyi
I didn’t hear what he said. Perhaps I was not really

listening.
AreAgo
But you just reacted to—
Timi
It’s all right!
Edun
It’s all right, AreAgo. Of course we weren’t all paying

attention, were we? But I wonder, whoever prevents a
man from returning to his father’s house? Why prevent
Atiba from returning to claim his place in his father’s
house? Aren’t treading against customs?
Onikoyi
I had thought a certain kind of glory was in exile for a man

who fled his father’s house in the first place. I am certain
we are all aware Atiba fled Oyo on his volition…he chose
to live in exile!
Bada
Listen to that rudeness!
Edun
Since he asked to return, shall we prevent him?
Onikoyi
After we all did, I wonder?
Page | 270
Edun
If you really have anything to say, Adegun why not say it?
Onikoyi
If Atiba was here, I would have loved to ask him some

questions.
Bada
But now that he isn’t?
Onikoyi
It’s a shame…a big shame certainly.
Edun
Let us hear them... your questions.
Onikoyi
(Rises) At Kanla when we first met the Fulani forces, Bale

Ago Oja chose to fight by my side. As our men advance
during our onslaught, we crushed Esiele. We humbled
Popo. Their men swore allegiance to us and fought
alongside our own warriors. But we retreated because the
Fulani forces proved to be stronger, and formidable, to
push forward was to drive our men into their death. Ago
Oja is Atiba’s maternal place of birth, where was he when
we fought to save his mother’s people?
Ikolaba
But you were the one tasked with holding our north post at
Ago Oja, not Prince Atiba!
Onikoyi
But, it wasn’t also Bale Ago Oja’s duty, was it? But his
territories, Atiba’s territories, were closer to Katunga, and
much closer to the Fulani controlled enclave, and was in
Page | 271
danger of being seized by the Fulani forces. Does it not

make sense what Bale Ago Oja did? It would also make a
lot of sense if you don’t interrupt me! (Pauses) Next
question: on our second meeting with the Fulani, despite
his failing health, the brave Generalissimo, Aare Ona
Kakanfo Ojo Amepo led that Oyo attack. I fought by his
side together with Atiba and saw how a man, Ojo Amepo,
fought and died with honour as a soldier. We thought we
had secured victory after nine days of heavy fighting, but
something strange and terrible happened. Suddenly,
Amepo was surrounded by Fulani forces after we had been
pinned down up the north towards Katunga. At that time
Atiba suddenly disappeared. How did the Fulani forces
know that Amepo was going to be at Wonworo? How
come only untrained and ill-equipped warriors were with
him? Amepo couldn’t even find his horse. His charms and
amulets failed him. He was captured…our field
commander captured, stripped naked, paraded round the
town and slain in the most disgraceful fashion, his head
and limbs decapitated and sent as present to the Alaafin in
Oyo, with a message that his own fate will not be
different. While we mourned and buried our dead, all
Atiba did was to leave for Ago Oja. He didn’t even attend
Amepo’s burial and give him his last and well-deserved
respect! Of course, what will a nestling do for its mother
than become mature and fly away?
Timi
Are you accusing Atiba of conniving with the Fulani?
Onikoyi
I am not. I didn’t. We all did. Was that not why we all

swore that Atiba must not return to Oyo? Was that why his
flight out of Oyo was construed to be treachery
Page | 272
consequent upon which he remain banned from entering

Oyo?
Bada
And you make a case of such a simple oath?
Onikoyi
An oath we swore in the presence of the Alaafin is not a

simple oath. An oath we swore in the name of our
ancestors, in the name of Ogun, Sango and Esu, is
never…ever a simple oath!
AreAgo
Wasn’t the same Amepo you glorify now as treacherous as

Atiba if his case with Toyeje of Ogbomoso is anything to
go by?
Ikolaba
If this was time to share blame, then Atiba should not be

held responsible for Oyo’s defeat by the Fulani when
Afonja was as guilty of the same offence.
Onikoyi
What are you talking?
Bada
What do you stand to gain if Atiba remain banned?
Onikoyi
Are you asking me, lord Bada? Why are you doing this? Is
this how low Oyo politics has sunk?
Bada
What did you just say?
Page | 273
Onikoyi
You heard me! When status and rank determine the nature
of our laws in Oyo? And we cannot even preserve a word
upon which we placed our honour and stood on oath, in
the name of the same ancestors we claim to live by? Is this
what Oyo prides herself upon!
Timi
Did you hear that again? Twice now he insults Oyo!
Odekoya
Please I beg, shall we go on with the feast? I am sure there

would be a better time or place to address Prince Atiba’s
return to Oyo.
Onikoyi
Atiba may return to Oyo on one condition.
Edun
And what is that?
Onikoyi
If he will come to stand trial and prove his innocence in

the disgraceful death of Kakanfo Amepo.
Timi
Never!
Onikoyi
If shame means nothing to us…to the way we want Oyo to

be seen, it’s a shame!
Edun
(Rises and charges at him) I hate your tongue!
Page | 274
Edun stabs Onikoyi. He staggers, stumbles and quickly

gets up, but not in time before the rest of the conspirators
stab him repeatedly. He falls down again groaning in his
pool of blood. He manages to stand, staggers towards
Lagbayi and embraces him for support. Slowly, Lagbayi
brings out his own dagger, raises his hand and stabs him
at the back.
Onikoyi
(Groans) A-ah! And you, Lagbayi?
He slumps and dies. Everything happens so fast that the

hunters are taken by surprise. Aroni recovers and runs
out. Unable to speak and trembling, Odekoya goes to
Onikoyi’s corpse and bears it tenderly. Finally, he regains
his voice.
Odekoya
What have you done? In the name of our fathers, what

have you done!
Bada
It is either you are with us, or against us!
Odekoya
I am not with you! (Bada brandishes his dagger, advances

toward Odekoya, who stands boldly waiting for him) Do
it. Go on…bury your dagger in my chest…do it!
Edun
Bada! (Pauses) Our task is done!
Edun Gbogun exits. The other conspirators follow him

quickly. Confusion in the Hunters’ grove
Fade.
Page | 275
Scene Two
Dawn next day. Same place. Onikoyi’s corpse is now covered with palm fronds as if it
is a sacrifice for Ogun, the God of War. Dirge at the background. Baasotan enters
with Boy.
Irukere nro oo
Gbede gbede gbede!xv
Baasotan
Well, Boy, we are too late!
Boy
Is he dead? (He goes to the corpse, kneels and touches

him) He is still warm. Is he really dead?
Baasotan
If he wasn’t, he won’t be on the ground.
Boy
(Sighs) A-ah! “If there were reasons for these miseries,

then into limits could I bind my woes. When heaven doth
weep, doth not the earth overflow?” (Pauses) “No man
shed tears for him. He lived in fame and died in virtue’s
cause.”
Baasotan
Shakespeare again!
Boy
He lived and died according to your story. You wanted

him dead!
Page | 276
Baasotan
Me?
Boy
You did. So that his wife and friends should “weep their
tears into the channel, till the lowest streams do kiss the
host exalted shores of all”
Baasotan
You are clearly obsessed with Shakespeare. Who taught

you all of this? (Aroni and Soso enter).
Soso
Where is he?
Odekoya
Just over here (Soso goes to Onikoyi’s corpse just in time

for Boy to move away. He removes the palm fronds slowly.
He is clearly sad) It happened so fast. Nobody expected
anything!
Soso
(Calmly touching Onikoyi and feeling the stabs) So fast

you couldn’t even stop them…or kill at least one of them?
(Dirge grows louder) They have to see him.
Odekoya
Who have to see him?
Soso
The people…can’t you hear them?
Odekoya
Nobody will enter into our grove. This place is sacred.
Page | 277
Soso
Sacred? Did you just say sacred? This place stopped being
sacred the very moment Adegun shed his blood here!
Odekoya
(Hunters quickly draw their weapons) Nobody will enter

into this grove!
Soso
Really? Is this what you want? (He removes his upper

clothing in readiness for a fight) Then you will have more
than his death on your head!
Aroni
Stop…please! (Pleads with Odekoya) Diekola…his wife is

out there too. She can’t see him? Even for the last time
before his corpse is taken away for a warriors’ burial?
Boy
(Whispers to Baasotan) They will allow her, isn’t it?

(Pauses) Say something old man!
Baasotan
I don’t know, Boy. It’s their house. We are all trespassers

here.
Boy
But, she deserves to see her husband at least for the last
time!
Aroni
We cannot shut her out today of all days!
Boy
Say something old man!
Page | 278
Silence
Odekoya
Let her come (Aroni goes out, returns with Diekola after
a while. Aroni points at the corpse. She goes to Onikoyi’s
corpse and kneels slowly. She sobs. Aroni sings Onikoyi’s
praise)
Aroni
Onikoyi oo!
Iku pejo, iku porooo
A—jo—logun ma jee yan je.
Eyi a ba se la a ka.
Yanbilolu lo logun ile,
Eso Ikoyi lo logun ode.
Iba somo elomiran lo lagbara bawonyi
Won o ni je a mii
Iba somo elomii lo lagbara bawonyi
Won iba ti je a rin
A o romi lodo eja a wale
A o r’Onikoyi niwaju Ogun, imo omo ogun o jo
Yanbilolu
Orun un re rereereeee!xvi
Diekola
(Caressing Onikoyi’s body) Son of those who dance to

meet battle. Is this really you…cold and silent? Death that
kills swiftly and never flinches with regret, is this you?
(Sighs, controls her tears) Is this the best Oyo thought that
Page | 279
you deserve? It is with stone that the vulture is greeted in a

foreign land; only where the vulture is known is where it
receives favourable treatment. How different from
vultures are these people who surround you? Is Oyo now
not a foreign land? After everything you did for her, all the
sweat and pain of lonely nights in the cold, in enemies’
territory and yet you are not accepted? But a dog never
forgets its benefactor; only human beings do! If you had
listened to me. My tongue is weak, but not as weak as my
body and I never for once lied to you…not once. You
should have listened to me! (Sobs. Stops suddenly and
rises) Do we still have enemies threatening us from
outside? Do we truly have enemies…any at all? What
about the thought we nurse in our hearts against
ourselves? How we conceive of ourselves through our
differences and those things that divide us instead of the
ones that should bind us together? (Rises and turns to
Soso) He is all yours. Honour him!
(She exits. Aroni goes to Onikoyi’s corpse, covers it up

with the palm fronds and sits by the side sobbing quietly
while intoning a dirge)
Soso
If the earth is unkind and kills a helper on a farm, the

responsibility falls on the owner of the farm. (Leaving) It
is your sacred grove, take care of it!
Odekoya
Wait! I was only doing what I had to do.
Soso
What you and your cowards here could not do when they
stabbed him to death?
Page | 280
Odekoya
We are no cowards! How could we have known that they

planned to kill him here? We only wanted to honour him.
Ogun bear us witness!
Soso
Do not swear or Ogun kills you this instant!
Others
We swear by Ogun!
Silence. Soso walks away visibly angry. Aroni goes to him
Aroni
We cannot honour him this way…fighting each other!

(Pauses) What are we going to do?
Soso
You do not kill the son of Onikoyi and live the rest of your
life in peace. Lagbayi has to explain to me why he was a
part of this.
Aroni
But, we first have to take care of his body.
Soso
You do that. Lagbayi is mine! Tonight we will pull down

his house and destroy everything and anything that stands
in our way!
Odekoya
After that?
Soso
We go after the conspirators…starting with Edun Gbogun!
Page | 281
Odekoya
Gbogun will be expecting us.
Soso
That is the point. We will go as warriors, not as farmers or

chanters.
Aroni
I am first a warrior, before becoming a chanter. Do not

worry about me.
Soso
Exactly what I want to hear because when we start this,

there is no going back until the conspirators all pay for
their crime. Are we together in this?
Odekoya
My men are ready!
Soso
(He picks up a cutlass, the weapon of Ogun, and bites. He

scoops up sand from the ground, touches his head and
chest with it, then throws into the sky. The others do the
same thing) On this very oath, on OgunOnire and ile
atepe, we all stand. May Ogun and ile guide us!
All
Ase! [So be it!]
(They all exit, except Baasotan and Boy, who sits

dejectedly on a low stool)
Baasotan
Well, shall we leave too? (Pauses) We will miss the best

part of the story if we tarry long here.
Page | 282
Boy
You have told the best part of the story. And it is sad.
Baasotan
You remember Shakespeare but forget my own rule.
Boy
The story is greater and older than the storyteller. I said

that before!
Baasotan
But he is going to be avenged; that’s the best part.
Boy
(Rises, speaks as he goes to Onikoyi’s corpse) I know he

will because “he sits high in all the people’s hearts, and
that which would appear offence in us, his countenance
like the richest alchemy will change to virtue and to
worthiness.” (He kneels by the corpse and touches the
ground) “O pardon, thou bleeding piece of the earth.” (He
exits) Old man, I am done with your story!
Baasotan
Now, what do I do with this boy!
Fade
Page | 283
Scene Three
Lights. Lagbayi’s house. A middle-aged woman and a young girl are busy preparing
a meal. Soso suddenly enters with some warriors. Woman tries to run.
Soso
Stay Labake, I am not here for you! (Petrified, both

woman and girl lie face down on the ground). Come out
Lagbayi. Be a man at least for the last time! (Silence) I
will not say it twice. I will have your entire household
pounded, every living male child cut into tiny bits and the
dead exhumed and killed all over again (Pauses, no
movement) And the women, starting from the ones here,
taken naked out into the forests and tied up for the entire
people to have a glimpse of their womanhood before
slitting their throats (Women and young boys run out from
the inner room, sprawling on the ground and begging for
mercy. Lagbayi comes out quietly behind them. Soso
motions his men to seize him). Look at you…why?
Lagbayi
Gbogun only asked me to ensure Onikoyi attends the ijala,

I didn’t know he had other plans, I swear to you!
Soso
You of all people should know (To his men) Tie him up.
Lagbayi
You can’t do this to me (Men tie him up) You are my

friend. You won’t do all those things you threatened.
Soso
You stopped being my friend the moment you drew your

dagger. It shouldn’t have been you.
Page | 284
Lagbayi
At least spare my family...please, I beg you!
Soso
Onikoyi also had a family. He had a wife. Did you think

about that before you and others buried your daggers in his
chest and back? Did you? But I know why you did what
you did. At the end you realized Onikoyi knew you were
part of the conspiracy, whether by your design or
foolishness, so, it was best he died for you keep your
secret. But, you were wrong...all of you, you were wrong!
Lagbayi
But please spare my family!
Soso
Sensible men think about their family before starting a war

(Lagbayi’s family cries) Quiet! (Turns to Lagbayi) Do you
remember what happened at Wonworo? What we saw of
the remains of Kakanfo Ojo Amepo? He died for
something...unfortunately, I can’t say the same about you
(To his men) Take him out! (They drag Lagbayi out, his
household in tears) As for these people, and everything
that stands here, bring them all to ruin!
(He exits)
Fade.
Page | 285
Scene Four
Lights. AreAgo’s compound.
AreAgo is with his two sons. The mood is pensive.
1st Son
What are you going to do? Soso and his men come for
you. They are seizing people…they called them
conspirators. And they mentioned your name too.
2nd Son
Why would they mention your name? What did you do

father?
Silence
1st Son
Say something father, you can’t just ignore us!
AreAgo
I will not run. Let them come.
2nd Son
Then it is true what people are saying.
1st Son
Let them come. Did you hear that? Let them come so that
you can be taken to who knows! Right in our presence and
we do nothing?
2nd Son
He won’t come alone. He will come with his fierce dogs.

What can we do?
Page | 286
AreAgo
Then, do nothing.
2nd Son
Do nothing and watch while they cut you into tiny bits?
AreAgo
You don’t understand, do you? I am not going to run from

an upstart we trained how to load a gun. I will stay and
save what is left of our family honour.
1st Son
What honour? By getting yourself killed like a common

rooster?
AreAgo
You don’t talk to me like that. I am your father!
1st Son
Then go out there and meet him, fight him like a man
instead of waiting for him to come and get you here. If
you truly want to save what is left of our honour, go and
meet him, don’t let him come here!
2nd Son
Do you know what people say he did to his friend,

Lagbayi, did you? He killed him and his whole family,
men and women, and children!
1st Son
You started this fire, quench it!
2nd Son
Otherwise you are nothing! (They both exit. AreAgo paces

about)
Page | 287
AreAgo
I will not be shamed. Rather than die, the earth shall

wither!
Fade
Page | 288
Scene Five
Along a path towards Kusu.
Timi Ede runs along with Bada and AreAgo, with a few soldiers.
Bada
We can stop here and rest!
AreAgo
It still beat me how Soso and his men managed

it…breaking the walls in Gbogun!
Timi
Edun should have listened to me!
Bada
He chose the path of honour.
Timi
What honour? That was suicide!
AreAgo
It was the way they killed him…cut him into bits and
pieces right in the presence of his wives and household.
That was callous. They should have at least showed his
family… his children some compassion.
Bada
They are animals!
AreAgo
As a warrior, I have never seen such fury all my life.
Page | 289
Bada
We wanted this, AreAgo. No one should expect killing

Onikoyi won’t have consequences (Pauses) Any word
regarding Atiba?
Timi
He returned to Ago Oja.
Bada
He returned?
Ikolaba runs in with some warriors. Bada and the rest

scamper for cover.
Ikolaba
It is only me!
Timi
I thought they said Odekoya and his men had besieged

your hideout.
Ikolaba
They did, but I managed to escape. A hundred warriors,

see what is left…four of us! Now, they even manage to
infiltrate our rank, how do they manage to do that?
Bada
Traitors! Many of them are traitors.
Timi
Then, you must move cautiously and tell no one your plans.
Bada
So is it true Atiba left for Ago Oja?
Page | 290
Ikolaba
Atiba never came to Oyo in the first place.
Bada
He did not?
Ikolaba
Of course he did not. I thought you knew this.
Bada
I knew and was still asking you?
AreAgo
So, Edun Gbogun only used us?
Ikolaba
You wanted him to act...to do something. Well, he did

what we all wanted I suppose.
Bada
How long have you known this?
Ikolaba
From the moment he mentioned it. The idea came rather

too suddenly, only a fool would believe that.
AreAgo
So what are we then...fools?
Ikolaba
Well, you should know. For me, I never liked Onikoyi. I

saw an opportunity and used it. That was all and how I
liked it!
Page | 291
Bada
(Suddenly grabs Ikolaba and pins him down) Give me one

good reason not to slit your own throat...tell me, you
conniving bastard!
Ikolaba
(Pants) Fulani forces advance towards Oyo. They have

completely routed Katunga. A-ah! Katunga smoulders in
the distance. The people of Oyo are moving out in their
hundreds....you need me to fight by your side!
Bada
No, you are no good to me. You lied and connived to

deceive me!
Ikolaba
No...I swear it was not—
AreAgo
Fulani forces close in on Oyo, Bada. We need all our

strength if must survive!
Silence, relaxes his grips on Ikolaba
Bada
Where are they headed...the people of Oyo?
AreAgo
Who knows? They are just going…running

away…everyone, young and old.
Timi
They will run right into the hands of Dahomey Amazons.

If they are moving out of Oyo that is at least safe…
Page | 292
(Ikolaba suddenly twists and turns Bada face down on his

stomach, putting a knife to his throat).
Ikolaba
You think you can threaten me..uhn? Cowards don’t play

this game!
Bada
(Panting with anger) I am no coward!
Ikolaba
Then, you tell me what will happen after I slit your throat.
Timi
(Puts a knife to Ikolaba’s neck) You slit his throat and I rip
yours from the back of your head!
AreAgo
Stop...will you all stop this madness! We can’t survive by

fighting each other. Oyo is far from being safe, so are we!
(Ikolaba moves slowly away from Bada, who sits up

rubbing his neck).
Bada
Oyo is far from being safe. So, where the people are
headed is? (Pauses, rising suddenly) Perhaps we shouldn’t
have done this? If Dahomey Amazons are moving towards
Oyo from Aja, they should be in Oyo in a few days
(Pauses) This is not the best of time.
Timi
Surely not the worst of it!
Bada
We shouldn’t have done this!
Page | 293
Ikolaba
Done what? Allowing this…this slaughter?
Sounds of gunshot in the distance.
Timi
Is that our own men? Or the Fulani forces? Or the

Dahomey Amazons?
Ikolaba
How can we tell?
Bada
And you still think it is not the worst of time for us…for
Oyo?
They all leave in a hurry.
Fade
Page | 294
Epilogue
Lights.
Baasotan is still with the crowd.
Silence.
Baasotan
Indeed. It was the worst of time. The Fulani forces

invaded Oyo. It was a complete rout. They made good
their promise to Alaafin Oluewu. In the open space in the
palace courtyard, they slaughtered him like a dog that was
sacrificed to calm the wrath of Ogun. The palace was set
ablaze. Our people scamper out in fear, in all directions,
seeking peace, finding none. Dahomey didn’t have to fight
to win their freedom (Sighs) Well, Boy, shall we go home
to your mother now?
Boy
I want to stay for a while. My new friend just gave me

this: “Who’s there?” (He raises a copy of Hamlet) And, I
have to read it before coming home.
Baasotan
Hamlet, Prince of Denmark. Hm! “To be, or not to be?”

You want to hear that story too?
Boy
I have had enough bloodshed tonight.
Baasotan
But that one too is not so much different from the story I
just told.
Page | 295
Boy
I won’t see it. I saw yours (Turns to his friend) Shall we

go now? (As he exits with his friend) Tell my mother that I
am not coming home tonight. She doesn’t have to prepare
dinner for me.
Baasotan
(Chuckles) What a boy!
Fade to final blackout.
Page | 296
CONCLUSION
“B’oko ba ro’kun, bo r’osa, dandan ni ko f’abo f’elebute”
[After the ebbs and tides, the canoe must return to the shores]
--Yoruba proverb--
According to the Yoruba, the end of a particular journey is not the end of the world,
as research of this nature is expected to open up a new area of research in the
field/subject. Hence, from a Yoruba perspective, a “conclusion” is not necessarily the
end but a “new” beginning. As I discussed in the introduction, I do not assume that
cultures are an open window to each other, but the values which this thesis has
brought to Shakespeare adaptation scholarship can also be offered by other cultures
which are peculiar to, or different from, the Yoruba culture. The Igbo culture, for
example, shares a palpable resemblance with the Yoruba culture yet it is unique in its
own way. Its application to understanding postcolonial Shakespeare adaptations can
prove to be very rewarding, much as the Zulu culture can as well.
Extensive scholarship about Shakespeare adaptation emphasizes how

adaptations work in their “deliberate and announced difference” (Hutcheon), how the
adapters transform an inherited tradition through the “power of imagination and
innovation that triumphs over nostalgia and authenticity” (Bradley), and how the
adaptations also function as “canonical counter-discourse,” by being “culturally
affirmative as well culturally oppositional” (McKinnon) even as they use the past to
write about the present (introduction 15-8). This thesis consolidates and extends
existing scholarship on Shakespeare adaptation from an alternative perspective to the
aforementioned, by exploring how Yoruba and Yoruba-influenced writers adapt
Shakespeare.
For examples, building on previous understandings of Aimé Césaire’s Eshu, I

have traced Césaire’s Eshu (Esu to be precise) to its origin in the Atunda personality,
to whom he is directly related in Yoruba mythology. Similarly, building on previous
scholarship on Harlem Duet, which scholars have always read in regard to Sears’s
Page | 297
engagement with the issue of race and class in multi-cultural Canadian society, I have
demonstrated how Sears draws from and adds to a specifically Yoruba frame of
reference. My analysis shows how the power Billie invests in the handkerchief,
interpreted mostly as “juju”, “voodoo” and “magic,” is more specifically and more
accurately a manifestation of aje. I proved that Billie’s effort combines Oro (power of
the Word), ofo ase (the power to pray effectively), ayajo (power of incantation) and
aasan (the power to curse and drive insane) in order to will something into existence,
which she intends to use in the hope of punishing Othello for his infidelity.
The new interpretation that this thesis has offered as shown by the above
examples is only possibly through the knowledge of the Orisa and the Yoruba
worldview. By introducing Orisa from the Yoruba worldview which represents the
past together with Shakespeare in this thesis, I have also been able to prove that future
possibilities are also rooted in past experiences, and that the Yoruba epistemology and
aesthetic principles can also function effectively in this regard.
At the same time, I also acknowledge that the Yoruba precepts which I
identified and analysed as parts of the cultural significations of the Orisa-Shakespeare
could face challenges in view of contemporary realities. For instance, it is possible to
consider Othello’s quest for his orirun as a rationalization of infidelity or at least
dishonesty towards Billie. However, far from being a “fixed social reality,” Yoruba
rituals are also marked by their malleability and possibilities to change; yet, that do
not deny them of their essences and validity as psycho-social and ritual practices
some of which have survived until now.
Earlier on, I mentioned Jane McLuskie’s misunderstanding of the cultural

reality behind uMabatha she saw in performance (introduction 15). In the same article
however, she also makes a very valid submission---which speaks to what I have done
in this thesis--- that there is also the need to consider the play as a repeat, revival and
a tribute to Shakespeare which offers a way of understanding the process by which
theatre practice is connected to political and aesthetic discourse, the way one culture
connects to another, whether these connections are historical or geographical, Zulu or
English, pre or post imperial, pre or postmodern. McLuskie’s statement is true of the
texts that I have examined in this thesis. They are both theatrical and textual
Page | 298
adaptations, some of which are written into different cultures, but which I have
analysed from a specifically Yoruba cultural perspective.
The knowledge of the Yoruba provenance also informed the way that I have
structured the thesis. Broadly, I have divided the thesis into two parts: exegesis and
creative component, which tallies with the duality of the Yoruba world. At the same
time, I have structured the thesis to reflect the tripartite (three levels of existence)
structure of the Yoruba universe: Chapter One introduces the Yoruba culture, ritual
and belief and other aspects of life that influenced the drama/theatre. In this chapter, I
also developed the theory of analysis that I used to examine the texts in this thesis.
Chapter Two contains the textual analysis of the texts which cover both the
“Home/Africa” and the “Diaspora” of the Yoruba. In Osofisan’s Wesoo, Hamlet!, I
examined how the play dramatizes continued political rivalry in Yorubaland through
the conflict between its protagonists, and alludes to the violence associated with oil
exploration in the Niger Delta region of Nigeria. In Yerima’s Otaelo, I explored the
play’s dramatization of the tragedy surrounding the Osu, an agelong cultural system
of segregation being practiced in some parts of Igbo land, and how the play is also
useful to address the ongoing agitation for the Republic of Biafra by the Igbo
populace in Nigeria. In Lear Ananci, I examined Thomas’s use of the play to
dramatize the failure of postcolonial leadership both in his country, Trinidad and
Tobago, and the Caribbean Island in general. In Sears’s Harlem Duet, I explored a
cultural angle to the breakdown of Billie and Othello’s marriage, by looking at orirun,
or identity, in the context of the play. In Chapter Three, I used the insight gained from
the theory and its application to explore the cultural and political contexts of the
aforementioned texts, to write a new play which alludes to Julius Caesar, and
addresses the current socio-political situation in Nigeria. What comes out most
strongly from the analyses of the Orisa-Shakespeare and my own play, is the fact that
human society continues to evolve ways to deal with issues by drawing from the
knowledge of the past, represented by both Shakespeare and the Yoruba tradition, in
tandem with recent knowledge that is represented by the adaptations.
My thesis has also uncovered new areas of knowledge which might be of

interest in such fields as Cultural Studies, Anthropology and/or history, although I
have not concerned myself so much with those areas of studies but to focus on the
dramatic/theatrical elements. I also admit that I have not fully elaborated on the values
Page | 299
of the Orisa in this thesis, or even the Yoruba culture itself in its entirety. What I have
done is to use a small aspect that has the potential to engender further research in a
productive way.
In this light, further research may focus on either the male/female Orisa and
examine them fully, or examine the viability of the attributes of such orisa in relation
to Western theories such as feminism for example, or even focus on areas that could
pose challenges to the utilization of such attributes in modern society.
Another area of further research that I would suggest is to engage how the
Orisa-Shakespeare can be more effectively integrated into the broader discourse of
post-colonial theatre in general. In this case, other plays which resonate with Yoruba
aesthetic principles, such as Orson Welles’ Voodoo Macbeth, Derek Walcott’s A
Branch of the Blue Nile, Murray Carlin’s Not Now, Sweet Desdemona, and Abdulai
Sila’s The Prayer of Mansata, can be introduced, alongside those that I have analysed
in this thesis, bearing in mind their areas of convergence and/or critical departure
from each other that would in turn serve as points of entry to examine their post-
colonial significance.
More so because the Yoruba are well aware of the geographical, racial and
ideological differences among people, any of the approaches that I have suggested
above is valid, so long as it aids in the expansion of the frontiers of knowledge and
establishes the fact of the Orisa-Shakespeare as valid examples of a new sub-genre of
the Shakespeare adaptation scholarship. To this end, when the Yoruba say “Aye kan lo
wa” (One humanity exists), it is to express such an understanding. This is true, most
especially when we look at the Orisa-Shakespeare (and my play) from the perspective
of what they are saying about their own societies and not in opposition to
Shakespeare’s canonical status.
Page | 300
Appendix of Yoruba expressions in Emi, Caesar!
i
Baasotan
Son of Otuugbedee
Examine well the female organ,
Before you go to bed,
There is Death in the female organ,
Death that kills one!
ii
Thank you so much, Alade son of Ogboja.
I will leave behind a good name for my children
I will pass over a good legacy to my children.
When the cobra dies,
Its children take over a legacy of poison.
When the bathroom dies,
Its children take over a legacy of urine.
Whenever I die,
My trade and skill of storytelling shall pass over to my children.
Your own children will share your legacy.
iii
Hail, Onikoyi!
Son of the lineage of warriors who dress up in heavy accoutrement to face battles.
Onikoyi offspring of the leopard at Kaba-on-the-hill,
Onikoyi offspring of the leopard at Kaba-on-all-sides!
iv
The lightning that strikes and destroys with ferocious anger!
v
You are the first among equals,
Onikoyi, you are the first among equals.
A toro coin may be small in size but it is greater than sisi in quality and value,
vi
They will only watch the fluttering feathers of a bird
as it soars in the sky,
Not catch it!
vii
Yanbilolu,
Warrior from Ikoyi,
The wasp that carries death about and is never afraid of it.
One of the lineage of warriors who swallow a thousand bunch of arrows,
And spit the same with the skill with which they swallowed them!
viii
a stranger, usurper, persona non grata
ix
One does not know whom to trust.
Faces conceal intentions,
Gestures do not reveal them.
x
It is exercise in futility for a child to pick rolling stones at the King’s courtyard
This was what Ifa said to Aye
When earth and evil were in enmity
The earth was asked to offer sacrifice
But she refused
Esu asked both of them to wrestle,
Evil then overcame the earth
Therefore, people said:
“Oh come and see,
Alas, evil has entered into the earth!”
xi
If you encounter aye, flee from aye
If you encounter aye, flee from aye
The primeval ijimere was black
This aye, it is that soaked ijimere clothes in palm oil;
This aye it is that slew ogidan
Ogidan the surgeon of the wild.
Page | 301
xii
Hail Ogun!
Owner and lord of Ire, my father!
When Ogun first descended onto the earth,
He was draped in a hoop of fire and loincloths of blood
Ire it was where he changed his apparel into limitless clothes sewn of palm fronds!
xiii
Yanbilolu
Son of the lineage of warriors who dress up in heavy accoutrement to face battles.
I should like to salute my master’s lineage
Adegun, offspring of one who leads a gathering.
Eruwa never sleeps in the forest, offspring of a load of arrows.
Let war come forward and take my husband
War approached closely.
Olukoyi’s wife said, “My husband,
What tried to capture you the first time,
But failed to do so.
What tried to capture you the second time,
But failed to do so.
That thing is back again.
I hope your father was a renowned warrior
xiv
Yanbilolu,
Warrior with a quiver of a thousand arrows,
Bee of the virile sex who, like a bee,
Stings a child with resulting protracted pain.
Jagun who rescued his child from sloth.
And shook off misery from his relative-in-law.
He overlooked a loan of sixpence,
And drew a relation to himself.
“It is our relations who rally round us,
Sixpence can’t rally round us.”
xv
The horsetail bends slowly
Slowly and slowly and slowly!
xvi
Yanbilolu!
Death kills snake, death kills poison.
A warriors’ President who never cheats.
Reference is normally made to one’s achievements
Yanbilolu owns the inside Ogun
Son of Onikoyi owns the outside Ogun
If it were other people who wielded such a high authority,
They would suffocate us.
If it were other people who wielded such a high authority,
They would confine our movements
Without water in the river, there won’t be fish,
Without Onikoyi at the head of the army, soldiers will be in disarray
Yanbilolu,
Rest in peace!
Page | 302
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Illustrations.
Fig.1. Opon Ifa.1000+ images about Yoruba/Opon Ifa on pinterest.736x732. 3 March
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Ayodele, S. V. Personal Interview. 24 February 2015.
Babalawo Ifasogbon, A. Personal Interview. 21 January 2015.
Chief Oluawo Sofolabo, A. Personal Interview. 13 January 2015.
Chief Priest Fabunmi, A. Personal Interview. 15 November 2014.
Dr. Oguntola-Laguda, D. Personal Interview. 24 February 2015.
O/I Canon Adetayo Ifaniyi, B. Personal Interview. 13 January 2015.
Page | 315

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Orisa-Shakespeare:

A study of Shakespeare Adaptations Inspired by the Yoruba

Olalekan Is’haq Balogun

A thesis submitted to the Victoria University of Wellington in fulfilment

Victoria University of Wellington

Iba Olodumare----Olojo, Oyigiyigi, Atererekaye, ojiji-biri a ji p’ojo iku da!

At the Victoria University of Wellington, I was welcomed by a multi-talented

Concomitantly, I thank Dame Dawn Sanders (ONZM), the Chief Executive

Dr.Bosede Ademilua-Afolayan--- sister, friend, mother, and source of

And to my lovely daughters: Queen Moremi Ololade (Moremscoco!); Princess

aasan---the power to curse and drive insane.

adabi--- Except it is not so.

Agemo--- a mask ritual popular among the Ijebu in Yorubaland.

ajegbogbo ti nwe’ni kun ‘ra ---The haughty fellow desperately in search of

Aje---power to enact spiritual communication.

ako a t’abo--- male/female principles.

Akunleyan---that which is chosen kneeling.

Aroko--- a coded metaphor/language formed from a combination of

Ase/Ashe---the force and/or power by which things come into existence,

atubotan ---essence of life.

Atunda—the mythical personality credited with the coming into existence

aworan--- a generic term for any artistic representations in two or three

ayajo/awure--- the opposite of epe (see below).

Ayamno o gboogun---There is no armour against fate.

Ayanmo---that which is chosen or affixed to someone.

aye---the visible and the tangible world of the living.

Bara--- (royal mausoleum) often set up for kings or royalty.

Bibii re ko see f’owo ra; ki a bi’ni ko to ka tun ‘ra eni bi ---Financial/social

Candombles—(Dance in honour of the gods), a creolized version of

E gba mii, kaa ma kan?--- Oh dear, what is this?

eeta motif ---three separate entities regarded as one.

eni-ori-sa-da--- the Select Heads/Deities

Eniyan bo ni lara ju aso lo---People are better raiment.

eniyan rere/daadaa--- (good person) or eniyan buruku (bad/haughty

epe--- curse, or strong diabolic words hauled at someone/thing at the height

Esu ma se ‘mi, omo elomiran ni o se---Esu, do not tempt me or make me

etutu/ipese--- various forms of appeasement often prescribed to a client by

gbolohun--- tone of finality with metaphysical correspondence.

Ibi ori da’ni si la a gbe--- Wherever fate determines is home(land).

Ifa, a body of knowledge about Yoruba epistemology and its aesthetic.

Ile Ogere--- (Sacred/Mother Earth).

Ile Yoruba—Yoruba land.

imo---mastery of time-honoured conventions.

imori--- Knowing the Head”; akin to the previous.

Iroke--- divination tapper.

Isebo isoogun, bi a ti yan ki a to wa s’aye laari--- In spite of sacrifice and

itan—story, narrative, history.

itumo--- to untie or unknot knowledge.

Iwa ni Orisa, bi a ba ti huu sin ii fii gbe ni---Character is an orisa, as we

O ku tan, o d’Oosa, o d’eni a-kunle-bo--- Having died, he became a Deity,

ofo ase---the power to pray effectively.

Ogbon die, were die--- Much wisdom, little foolishness.

Ojo to ro s’ewuro, lo ro s’ireke--- the same rain which falls on the

oju inu--- literally “inner eye” or “insight.”

ojuimo---lit. “artistic eye.”

Opon Ifa--- divination tray.

Opo-sisu--- the custom of leviration.

Ori--- “head,” an individual’s spiritual essence, the controlling feature of

ori inu--- inner essence.

Orirun---source, origin, identity.