The Story of Agbalọwọmeri

This painting is my visual interpretation of the traditional Yoruba story of Agbalọwọmeri: “the one who takes from those who have nothing.”

Shortly after Nigeria’s independence, in a bustling town that symbolised the nation’s newfound freedom, hope filled the air. The people believed that life would surely be better now that colonial rule had ended. But beneath that optimism lurked a familiar shadow, greed, this time dressed in native robes.

At the centre of the story stood Mr. Ade Agbalọwọmeri, a newly appointed local officer: educated, well-spoken, and proudly robed in his fine agbada. On the surface, he embodied modern progress; in truth, he was the very picture of corruption. He lived by a simple rule: no one received anything without paying something. From market women seeking stall permits to young men yearning for government work, Agbalọwọmeri collected his “fees.” His name soon became proverbial: “Agbalọwọmeri ni gbogbo ìlú n bẹ̀rù rẹ̀” — “the one who takes from those who have nothing; the town fears him.”

One day, a young man named Ajala arrived from his village. Having completed his studies, he came to town with hope in his heart and faith in his country’s promise. He entered Agbalọwọmeri’s office, bowed respectfully, and handed over his job application. The officer adjusted his cap, looked at the paper, and smiled.
“Young man,” he said softly, “this is Nigeria now. We help ourselves. If you really want the job, bring five pounds, not tomorrow, but today.”
Ajala’s heart sank. His father had sold a goat to pay his transport fare to town. He had nothing left.
“Sir,” he said quietly, “I have only my certificate and my faith.”
Agbalọwọmeri laughed, a deep, mocking laugh.
“Then go and tell your certificate to employ you!”

Ajala left in shame, but his conscience burned. The next morning, he went to the police and reported what had happened. The detective, a calm but determined man, decided to test the truth. He gave Ajala five marked pounds and told him to return to Agbalọwọmeri’s office. When Ajala handed over the money, the officer’s eyes gleamed. He tried to hide the cash beneath his blotter, unaware that the police were waiting just outside. Moments later, the door burst open, he was caught red-handed.

The case went to court. The courtroom was packed: traders, students, and elders all gathered to witness the verdict. Some whispered that Agbalọwọmeri would bribe his way out as usual. But on the bench sat The Incorruptible Judge, a man who valued truth above favour.

Agbalọwọmeri tried one last trick. He sent a bag of money to the judge, another bribe. But when the judge opened it, he thundered across the courtroom:
“This nation is sick, not because of the poor who steal to live, but because of the rich who steal from the poor!

Agbalọwọmeri, you are the enemy within!”
He sentenced him to prison.
The crowd erupted,  not in joy, but in reflection. For everyone knew there were a thousand more Agbalọwọmeris in offices, markets, and ministries across the new nation.