Walking Back Across The Bridge To The Past – We Need To Do So. By Chief A A Ehindero

Walking Back Across The Bridge To The Past – We Need To Do So.                       by High Chief Alphonsus Abiǫdun Ehindero 

High Chief Alphonsus Abiǫdun Ehindero 

A good brother once told me that we cannot build a bridge to the past because a bridge to the past leads to nowhere.

I humbly disagree with his view since I know that visiting the past provides the flashlight to see the present and probably the future more clearly. It does not mean going across to haul the garbage of the past and dump such in our today. A bridge to the past even in personal, tribal or national and international relationships that went sour, in most cases, lead to better understanding, respect and true friendship both in the present and in the future. It leads adversaries to identify what should not have been done at all; what could have been done better.

It leads to searching and excavating the past which lies across the bridge, picking, sieving for the good and bringing them across to our new location – our today, while rejecting the bad or abominables which have not naturally dropped off our 'luggage.'

So my point is this: A bridge thrown across to the past is not 'could be useful' but 'is useful' and should be maintained to haul across whatever good stuff we believe might be useful for us now and the future.

All over the world, bridges are thrown across to the past to mine ideas, lessons to enrich the present.

The Lagos Nigeria Festival of Arts and Culture in 1977 (FESTAC 77) where the entire black race countries and entities met in an exposition of Black Arts and Culture was a gigantic bridge to the past.

The archaeological location and excavations of the great Mayan civilisation in West South America displaying to the entire world the unbelievable architectural and civil engineering marvels of about two thousand years or more is a bridge in the past.

The discovery and exposition of the ancient Mayan civilisation is said to have influenced future empires and indeed the world. The Mayan's astrological study and advancement resulted in a scientific calendar which is comparable to the modern one.

The amazing awe inspiring pyramids of Giza Egypt; the excavation of the various tombs of great Pharaohs and the numerous archaeological diggings in the Middle East and elsewhere are bridges to the past.

The discovery of the Dead Sea Scroll in the Cave of Cumran near the Dead Sea by a Bedouin Arab, though not a planned walking the bridge to the past, was still a bridge to the past of our Christian faith. He saw a cave. He entered and found the bounded piles of manuscript - things of the past. Got curious and dug up – he walked the bridge – the whole Christian world walked the bridge to the past with him! The books, the manuscript – the scroll of the Bible books!

The Public, the Scientists or rather the Archaeologists and Historians walk the bridge to the past – to Amesbury in Wiltshire, England to Stonehenge, trying to unravel, in their minds, this mystery of the past.

The people of Ogidi-Ijumu and those of Nupe land are walking the bridge to the past – the past of war and bitterness- to harvest a rich future of love and cooperation. The armies this time; Peace armies; have established bridge head and will be breaking out of this bridgehead with cooperation unlimited!! Who says the bridge to the past leads to nowhere?

O yes, others did walk back too, and have harvested real friendship from visiting their past. The United States of America now has a blooming relationships with North Vietnam despite almost 60,000 of their dead during the Vietnam war. The USA walked the bridge of the past -the second World War (World War II) and despite Hiroshima and Nagasaki, is a great friend of Japan. Germany and the USA are great partners in Europe despite America's role in the devastation of Germany.

South Africa also walked the bridge to the past, courtesy of The Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC), after the end of Apartheid. It provided an opportunity for both the victims and perpetrators of violence to meet and come to terms with their past, a prerequisite for reconciliation and moving forward.

We in Ela must visit our immediate past not our ancient past – walk the bridge and like other, win back our peace and love.

Ogidi-Ela has great and unparalleled attributes. We are very generous in giving. Very accommodating with visitors and strangers and the crown of our generosity is enshrined in our famous Oriki – Cognomen - “Ogidi-Ela, a ghun ni omo toun tobo idi re!”Did I hear some non Ogidi citizens say “E ti mo ja hile?” Never mind, you just cannot understand, for it is deeper than you think – very deep indeed. So let us leave our credits and list our debits.

The abominable things of our past that thankfully withered away and did not hang on to our today and tomorrow among others are:

The elimination of twins soon after delivery - multiple birth was an abomination.

The sacrificing of slaves to accompany their lords as a burial ritual.

The destruction of genius babies when their superior speech and mental development exhibited.

Regarding a miscarriage of first pregnancy not as a disaster, but the cleansing of the womb which should not sadden the heart. Female genital mutilation. This still crawled into the recent past or our early today if you like, but I believe education and sophistication have eliminated this among the “book people.” Somebody should tell me the situation among the illiterate folks, I do not know. Have you heard this maidens moonlight play song - “Keregbelu” - before? It is genital mutilation identification song. The harvesting and eating of the dung-hill margot’s has mercifully disappeared, probably under incessant attach by the department of Health – Wole wole and the education of the children.

I believe the year was 1959. I had come home from my school in Aliade, Oturkpo on an end of year holiday. The Christmas holiday period was always a great fun time. That Christmas, we organised an excursion to the top of Ayin-Orunro Mountain. One, to relish the bird's eye view of Ogidi town. Two, to demonstrate the geographic fact that “the higher you go, the cooler it becomes.” It was the harmattan season and we debated what effect that would have on the scientific fact. The third, and most interestingly was to find out if it was true that when a piece of grass or leaf or indeed any debris was thrown into the gnammas atop this mountain, swallows would dive across the water and remove whatever debris was there.

From the mountain top, we counted the number of houses in the town that were roofed with corrugated iron sheets. They were six or thereabout. All the other houses or sheds were grass thatched and mud walled! These formed about 98 per cent of the town's buildings. Now, all house roofs are of corrugated iron sheets or aluminium corrugated sheets and in many cases asbestos sheets. And now there are probably a hundred per cent more houses than in those days.

I grew up as a boy to accept the presence of a full sized palm tree at the peak of Ayin-Orunro mountain. At first, it amazed me, for I thought there was no soil up there but all solid granite. We existed together (the palm tree) until it died in the year 2004. That is 62 years after I was born!! My father said of the palm tree, “that was how we met it on the mountain when Lord Lugard forced us to come from the mountain and highland to the North to this location in 1916. May be not as large.

I have a framed picture of our mountain and its crown – palm tree in my house. It is an elegant piece. I walk pass it a dozen times in the day where it hangs on the common passage to my living room, bed room and dining area. Now when I look up the mountain from the frontage of my home, the magnificent rock appears naked, devastated because of the absence of the palm tree. I miss my palm tree on the rock. The framed picture I see daily on the corridor walls makes its death more painful. And so too the death of those of my generation that lived viewing daily the palm on the rock and now gone away too. Beni Gbangba, Tobi Soje, Steve Bada, Lawrence (Perm Sec) Medupin, Biodun Oludoyi, Biodun 'Sibe sibe' Ibiteye, Idowu Alaremu, Ojo Obola, Ade Ajayi, Paul Ola 'Baba rere' Medupin, Z A Oloruntoyin, Olanrewaju 'AG', Mooto Adeyanju, Alfred Owonubi, Dorothy Obasa, Jommy Summy Olujumu, Lamidi Bose, etc, etc, etc. The generation has thinned, dwindled drastically and we are the remnants of that generation, looking forward to that day too; one day, when our allotment shall be dug too!

Do you know what really worries me? It is not the nearness of the end – death; since death is the new beginning. So, it is not the high percentage takeover of black by gray on my crown or the ridges, wrinkles and sagging flesh on my face. I am not worried at all about the dwindling effectiveness of the eyes and ears because of relatively effective counter measures. I have not forgotten my generous mid-section and muffin tommy – the result of a strong alliance with fast food! I am not at the least worried for that since it is regularly burnt on my road walks. And what else? All other vagaries of old age I happily contain.

So, what worries me is the fact that I have become ancient, not old. My generation has become ancient. I worry when I go through the list of those things that my generation and that of those before me and that immediately following used to do which today are alien to this generation that is harbouring me.

The foods and delicacies we used to delight in that are abomination, totally repulsive to the present day generation. The Caterpillar delicacy from Nupe country across the Niger was magnificent in Efo-Egunsi soup. That is gone. After a late noon shower, put your lamp outside with a wide receptacle of water in the night and catch hundreds of winged termites in Nuptial flight! The water helps to remove their delicate wings when caught in it as they flirt with the light or flame. Bake or fry these with or without a pinch of salt; Wow! It is a buttery delight.

How about the fat ugly dump hill (Etiton) Catapillars dug out from the soggy, smelly really stinking dump hill of house sweepings and human/animal wastes! Great delicacies when processed cleaned and fried!! Disgusting you say? Not then.

Would you want the pounded yam when you have no soup ingredients? No fish and no meat? Yes, you can still enjoy your precious meal or its black alternative Elubo substituting apolomolo for soup. Pepper, well blended on the grinding stone with good portion of Iru- fermented locus beans, or Ogiri , a little palm oil, salt and nothing more. When properly blended, it tastes uniquely delicious and loses its hotness. All sat or stoop around the grinding stone with individual calabash of Iyon or Elubo using the paste as soup.

Do you say you will not touch it because it is raw, uncooked? Well that is precisely why you should for freshness undestroy nutrients by heat. All that is gone, ancient meal.

This Apolomolo thing reminds me of other delicacies of my era – the ancient people. When last did you taste Akara -eka? Or Akara popolo? What about delicious Akara ogede – plantain loaf – abari? And delicious Asikolo cake/loaf made from water yam? All these have disappeared in Ogidi – condemned and buried with the past instead of being celebrated like in other places. Thank God that Akuku, Tankelekon and Isakoro/Isapa are still around. But except we start cultivating Akuku, it may soon become extinct since the Fulanis grazing cattle have destroyed them very significantly on our lands.

Enough of the food stuff and let's talk about social things. Activities that are social binding glues so to say, that are now extinct! Declared ancient just like me.

Moonlight plays of the girls:-

Kere gbelu kere gbelu

Kere gbelu, keregbe ale

Omoye mogede tuso were muri woriwo idi re

Obo re hunwa ya nikon regbede!

A play protest against female genital mutilation!

And the mixed plays – boys and girls

Marriage enactment plays

Cooking activity plays

Home chores and village activities plays, etc

All gone! Ancient and discarded or at best, some thinning down almost to lowest ebb.

Nigh time fables, or folk or tales – replaced

Moonlight wrestling contests in the village sands – all gone

Archery called Ubo, gone

Daytime games like Omembolo, Berekesele, Ego, Tufe, etc

The Olaga maids dance around the town topless! Priceless. All have disappeared – gone with the wind.

I remember clearly so many times in my childhood when the gong peeled and the town crier announced the work programme on the Kabieyesi's farm. Free service rendered to the royal by every able bodied male of the community! The same valued service and other related assistance on a smaller scale like thatching-grass harvesting, house building (mud walling, mud moulding, roofing, farm crop harvesting, etc, were enjoyed then by heads of families, chiefs and other senior citizens.

The churches used to have a day set aside for mission yard cleaning, manual labour. Today, these cooperation, the community labour are sneered at and regarded as servitude and economically unrealistic.

Every activity must yield cash! Nothing done for free, not even for God!. It beats me hollow and I feel a stranger in the present. Hence, I refer to myself and my age group as definitely ancient!

One area where I feel quite happy being ancient, even as a minority in the Church, is in my love for the ancient Chant of the Catholic Church – The Gregorian Chant. I am prepared to live in the past till my death. That is why I made Pilgrimages to the Monasteries’ of Europe via dozens of music tapes and discs for four good years – 2001 – 2004 to learn them anew. Seventy Seven or so formally unfamiliar chants now I can do! - I own a personally handwritten chant book. Before you voice it out, let me say this: I have a cross sectional love for all music – even your modern hip-hop madness!

I can read your mind you know. You want to know if I am living in the past politically? Yes, I am to some extent. I prefer the peace, the orderliness, the lack of chaos of the colonial administration; the pre-independence era. I prefer the British Governors of the Regions and their head at the centre to the mobs parading now.

I prefer the quality of our past education. Our university College Ibadan and its teaching hospital ranked next to London in those days. I prefer the British-led Police force to the present “Nigerian Police Curse”! I prefer the West Minster, the British Parliamentary democracy we ran to current counterfeit American democratic style government with thirty-six economic sink holes called states. Of course the largest and the deepest bottomless sink hole is the Abuja territory Sink hole called the Federal Government.

I surely prefer the well managed Railway and the well scrapped and filled earth roads of the past to the thousand deep jaggard-edged pot holes per kilometre tarred or asphalt roads of the modern time.

I enjoy and sing with gusto the British Anthem, our colonial 'God Save Our gracious Queen..... more than “Arise O Compatriots......” one third of which lines I mumble when singing. Patriotism made me to learn them by heart and sing without missing a line of our former Anthem“Nigeria we hail thee...”. But I soon lost hope in that present and also lost interest in the current “Arise.” As for “God save the Queen.” I can still sing it in both English and Yoruba through its entire stanzas. So I am politically living in the past as well. If I were an American, I would probably be a member of the Republican Party, but a liberal one.

Did you say, local politics – Ogidi politics?

What do you expect from someone like me so ancient. Yes, of course I am living in the past. But I have enough roots penetrating the soil laterally and giving out offshoots into the present and the future. So I can claim to be an Arinu-rode!

That is why I sincerely want a modernisation of the nomination of an Ologidi of Ogidi through the appointment of a very representative Council of kingmakers – Afobaje, while still living in the past with our cherished two ruling houses of Okelare and Itaji. I am quite comfortable with that hybrid of past and present. If the state government and my totally modern brothers/sisters- advocates of total change or cleavage decide otherwise, so be it.

So I suggest we fight our political battles the beautiful way the fathers of old fought theirs. The ways Oba Asilila, Oba Amujabi, Oba Ogunleye, Olojo Ogungbamiwa, Pa Olowo, Pa Olupeka, Pa Olojo Alafiatayo, Baba Elekiya, Baba Alamo, Baba Olayinka, Baba Elega Medupin, Olojo Odundun, Olojo Obihomoaporo, Olojo Aroburuejeya.

In the bitterness of their political confrontation, Oba Ogunleye did send his beloved sick son to the geat Pa Olupeka for herbal healing. The child slept on the same bed with him until he was back to good health and returned to his 'enemy'!

High Chief Clement Melaiye Medupin was called to 'Owa-lodo and tongue lashed over his stand in the obaship tussle and yet Olojo Ogungbamiwa gave him a daughter for a wife.

The revered High Chief Olupeka of blessed memory received Chief Elega Medupin (RIP) and this writer, then a little boy, there in his home on several occations during the supposed tumult in Ogidi. There was always food for us and palm wine to be shared untested first by the host! Trust, love!

Eleta (Itaji) grew annoyed with late Olojo Ogungbamiwa once during a visit I was told for tasting first the palm wine he brought under his agbada garment from Okoro to be shared before serving his host. “Oo! Kiya le to be Olojo? Trust, love, deeply rooted togetherness that no political tussle could uproot.

In the dead of night, despite their sectional rivalry, if you may call it so; one particular Kabiyesi (the wise one of “three nights ago” –if you know who I am referring to) would meet the headship of OWA-LODO or his lieutenant at Kolubeti – Agegbe (The culvert at AGO- EGBE ) which marked the boundary of Ilaare and Okoro quarters.

There the two would dissect the knotty disharmonies candidly in the absence of their hawks. While I was not told that they shared Kola-nuts at such nocturnal talks, I am sure they did. I bet you they did in love. The spirit of Ogidi demanded it. We must emulate our fathers from now on.

Yes!, they “barked” and “spared” verbally in the day but shared in the night. Now, we battle in the real sense. We cut off all relationships. We hate. We kill ourselves when we kill the love between us; and we kill the Christ in us (those of us Christians) when we kill love.

I end my random thoughts by asking that we resume singing and beating our drums of disagreement laced with lots of love and oneness. Whenever chiefs and elders of the court from Okoro trouped up to Ilaare for an occasion, their drummers would drum thus-:

Ogbo ke ti de, Aginmi we sowo yin o wu ghon!

This means, It is because the Ogbo people have not arrived that Aginmi people are doodling or disorganized – engaged in their various trades!

But then, they never stopped loving. They never stopped attending each other’s occasions – chieftaincy celebrations, burial ceremonies and celebrations, Agbo celebration, meetings and other important events organised by Owa-Loke and Owa-Lodo or taking place in their respective areas. They were members of the same large family.

And when next the Ilaare chiefs and elders were invited to Okoro in return for feferity or other doings, they drummed down to the appointments; the drum proclaiming-:

Aginmin ke ti de,Ogbo we sowo yin o wu ghon!

The same meaning as for Okoro's drumming only a change in the name of the accuser. Of course they would arrive at the pick of activities so that every attendant would see them. This was how in love our people trivialised their family problems and continued living in love. The disputes never got precipitated to the surface forming a scum or erupted showering hate.

Yes! Either side beat and sang their own supposedly ridiculing lines on their movements to attend occasions on either side of the town. Getting there, ate, drank and danced without fear.

Chief A A Ehindero

19 March 2016