As a child, I was often beaten when seen with books —Elebuibon

Poet, author and writer, Ifayemi Osundagbonu Elebuibon is a renowned culture promoter. In this interview, he told TUNDE ADELEKE his life story.

How do you think indigenous knowledge can help the nation out of the current challenges?

All the nations created by God have their different customs and traditions. Looking at it, the culture of India is different from that of China, and that of China differs from that of Africa. All of them have their different ways of solving problems as they arise.

Before the advent of different foreign religions, there was hardly any problem in Africa, particularly in Yoruba land, that so much defied solution that we would have to look for help from elsewhere, say Saudi Arabia or India. There’s no challenge whatsoever that’s beyond indigenous knowledge to surmount. But at a point, everything turned upside down and we started feeling inferior because the two dominant foreign religions (Islam and Christianity) always looked down on our indigenous religion with contempt. That is why we maintain the kind of disposition we have towards our indigenous religion. Whereas, there is no problem so insurmountable for indigenous religion.

 

  Can you tell us a little about your background?

I come from a background that’s so steep in Yoruba tradition.  I am from Oluode Aturuko family in Osogbo. Olutimehin and Olarooye founded Osogbo. I descended from Olutimehin lineage and our major occupations included hunting and other indigenous practices. My father was a herbalist and a hunter. He had six wives; the last wife was my mother and she had two children before me. My immediate elder, Ajitoni, it was believed, was born and died several times before she finally survived.

My parents were confronted with a lot of challenges before my conception. Pregnancies got aborted several times and children died in infancy. All sorts of challenges made my mother be bombarded with all manner of herbal concoctions. But it got to a stage my mother was instructed to stop taking any further medications. It was revealed to her that her next child would be a male child. My mother was further instructed to do just one thing; appease Osun, the river goddess, and drink water from the river. That’s the origin of my name ‘Osundagbonu’ because my mother was only drinking water from the Osun River before I was conceived.

It was foretold that the child to come would be famous, and a herbalist and that’s all that I am today.

At the time I was born, the oracle was usually consulted on the third day a child was born, to know what life had in store for the newborn. My name, Ifayemi, came through divination and Osundagbonu was given to me because water from the Osun River was my mother’s only medication before I was conceived; she had to shun all herbal preparations. So, that’s how I came about the name Ifayemi Osundagbonu Elebuibon.

I was four years old when my father started introducing me to Ifa corpus, as he noticed that he had started ageing. He was always telling me ‘nobody knows the time’ (in apparent reference to the time of his departure to the celestial realm).

I was still in my mother’s womb when it was divinely revealed to my father’s ‘second-in-command’ that the baby my mother was carrying would be a male child and that the man was the one to train the child in Ifa. My father told him that he might not be around again, but that he should not fail to carry out the instruction. So, my father died in 1957.

 

 Did you have the opportunity to acquire a formal education?

In 1955 when the Universal Primary education was launched, I was about 12 years old. Government officials were going from house to house to register grown-up children at the time. I was with my father in the house of the then-head of hunters when we saw two persons passing by. We thought they were visitors coming to consult my father. They came close and told my father ‘Let’s register your son for primary education.’ My father declined, and told them that was not my way; and that I was going to be trained in divination. All the persuasion to allow me to attend school in the morning and resume apprenticeship in divination in the evening fell on my father’s deaf ears. He said the ones that embraced education before me did not look back again, and would, therefore, not be so careless as to allow me to tread that path. That was how I missed the opportunity to benefit from the free education of that era.

After my father’s death, I left our house to live at Oke-Popo, under the care of Chief Faniyi Agbongbon for my divination training. The house where I lived at the time was directly opposite Mbari Mbayo – the late Duro Ladipo’s house. In our house, about three of us were little children. There was a draughtsman living in the house too. So, he was the one teaching the other children and I usually joined them. I tried to imbibe what they were being taught as I watched from the sideline. I also bought an exercise book and a pencil and struggled to write the little I could, but as we were being taught, I assimilated quickly.

I had a friend whose father was living in Gold Coast (Ghana before independence). The father was always sending money to him, though he was a dullard. He then approached me for spiritual assistance to aid his understanding of what he was being taught and I obliged. Each time he came back from school, he would show me what he was taught. Little by little, I continued learning.

One day, the draughtsman teaching my friends asked them “Who among you can pronounce shokolokobangoshe?” The oldest among them pronounced ‘sokolo’ and ended there; the next could not say anything, rubbing the back of his neck, same for the third person. I asked the man to be allowed to make an attempt. He responded, “Are you learning, is it not divination training you’re undergoing?” A woman passing by at the time then said “Let him try if he claims to know it.” The man then gave me the chance to attempt an answer and I pronounced it correctly. The man was amazed that the ones he was teaching officially could not pronounce the word, that it was someone listening by the side that got the pronunciation right. The news went around the town that I was brilliant.

Then, my friend, Sule whose father was in Gold Coast stumbled on a correspondence course and came to persuade me to consider it, since I was not allowed to go to a formal school. We then went to purchase a money order at the post office for the exact prices of the books. Tests would be sent to me and I would attempt and send my responses back. They would mark my scripts and return them to me. And with time, I improved tremendously.

Now, the man I was staying with had a friend whose name was Salau, from Ile-Oluode Popo; he was living in Kofodua, also in the Gold Coast. He was always writing letters to my boss, who was then in charge of his family here in Nigeria and was always keeping him abreast of the goings at home. One Gabriel Odunlade was the one helping my boss to write the replies to the correspondences. It happened that Gabriel Odunlade had to travel to Omituntun, an Ife farmstead, with his sewing machine. All the letters from my boss’ friend, about nine of them, got piled up awaiting Odunlade’s arrival as there was no one to read them.

The man in Ghana was agitated that there was no reply to his letters. He then sent a message, wondering why there was no reply to his letters. He did that several times, and on the third occasion, my boss called me to come and ask if I could attempt to read the letters. I then opened the nine letters and read them all.

My boss gave me nine pence to go and buy an airmail (usually the paper for overseas correspondence at the time). I then helped him write the reply and posted it. When the reply came, I was also on hand to read it.

One day, the man came home from Gold Coast. He asked my boss who helped him write a letter in which a particular issue was discussed. My boss then mentioned my name. They immediately called me. I was frightened because each time my boss saw me with a book, he would beat the hell of me. I was often beaten and my only offence was being seen with a book.

So, my boss’ friend said “So you’re Yemi”, and then turned to my boss and told him “This boy should be the person to write letters for you because before he took over, it always took two to three people to read before we could understand. But since he started writing letters for you, his letters are easily read and understood.” He then asked, “Where are you from?” I told him. He exclaimed, “Your father was the diviner who told me not to stay in Accra where others were trooping to, but that it’s Kofodua where my prosperity lay!” He said he heard that my father was late and I said yes. He gave me a gift of two shillings. That was how I intensified efforts in learning both Western education and divination.

 

Can you tell us about your career journey?

Mbari Mbayo was founded in 1962. There was a white man in Osogbo, Ulli Bier, the husband of Susan Wenger (Adunni Olorisa) who was living in Osun Grove at that time. Ulli Bier, Prof Armstrong, Duro Ladipo and others were all present when we were celebrating a festival with Oba Ataoja. My boss was Ataoja Adenle’s consultant diviner. My friend, Olaniyi and I were neck deep in carrying out our assignments at the event when Ulli Bier pointed me to Duro Ladipo and said “Look at this boy.” But I didn’t know what they discussed. Duro Ladipo later called me and asked whether I heard what the white man said and I said no. He then told me that Bier told him I should be coming to Mbari to work with them; and that they needed my knowledge. Bier then dipped his hand in his pocket and gave me money. But I dare not tell my boss that I was going to Mbari, the cultural centre where Duro Ladipo was using for exhibition, dance, drumming, plays and others.

Ulli Bier would send for me to ask for Ifa corpus which had to do with whatever he was writing at the time. Duro Ladipo too would enquire from me details about some aspects of Yoruba culture — burial, chieftaincy installation, panegyrics and others. As I kept working with them, I got more and more interested in what they were doing. But if I went there, I wouldn’t let my boss know because he would beat me. I didn’t have that freedom at the time. Each time Bier sent for me, I would go because I knew he would give me money. So, I would lie that I was going somewhere and if Bier should bring me in his car, people would go and gossip to my boss, who would, as a consequence, query me, and then beat me.

At times, they would send for me and I would tell them that my boss was a bully. Duro Ladipo would then advise me to tread softly and bid my time, saying ‘Be soft with an aged man, he’ll soon finish his race.’ That was the situation till 1967 when I obtained freedom from my boss. I then became free with Ulli Bier and Duro Ladipo, going about with them. They sent me on errands to all parts of Yoruba land and also asked for my contribution to their writings. For instance, half of what Bier wrote in his book that had to do with Yoruba mythology, came from me.

That was where I learnt about Yoruba poetry, playwriting, and researching and became a poet and an author. Together with Duro Ladipo, we took plays to Germany and America, and through the length and breadth of Nigeria, we staged ‘Obakoso’. We went to America, Brazil, Yugoslavia, Europe and other places. That was how I became an author and poet, and continued my practice as a herbalist.

 

Can you recollect some of the challenges you had?

One thing I have noticed is that most of the things I laid my hands on would initially appear as if they would not be successful, but would eventually end successfully. For instance, when I wrote Ifa Olokun, the weekly play on NTA, Ibadan, I took the synopsis to them, but the programme manager said it was meaningless. After their meetings, they reviewed it and said what’s Ifa Olokun? and just wished it away. Three times, I wrote the synopsis.

But I wouldn’t know how Dr. Yemi Farounbi got to know about it. One day, he saw me, called me and asked what had happened to the play I intended to do. I replied that I didn’t know, having submitted the synopsis three times. He then directed me to go and write another one and submit it to him directly. I complied. The following Monday, I went there, and the secretary said he was in a meeting and that it was going to take some time. I told the secretary I would wait. About 20 minutes later, he opened his door and saw me. He invited me in and took the paper from me.

He later tabled it at their meeting and told them it was a new programme to be aired. The others dismissed it, saying Ifa was no longer relevant and that there was no fund. He then persuaded them to try it, at least, the first 13 episodes, and watch the response of the audience.

Sometime later, they sent a producer, Prince Oyebanji from Ibadan, who came to tell me at my father’s house at Oluode that my programme had been approved – the entire 13 episodes.

 

What was your immediate reaction?

I was pleased, after all, even if they didn’t continue after the first 13 episodes, it would be on record that I did it during my lifetime. That was how we started.

By the time we finished the 13 episodes, Susan Wenger sent her adopted son, Sangodare Ajala, that I should see her. On getting to her, she said she wanted to go to Lome for an exhibition and that I should help her transport her artwork with my vehicle and meet her at Lome while she travelled by air. Of course, we had finished recording by that time and I wasn’t expecting further recordings. So, we went to Lome and spent three weeks there. By the time we came back, my wife told me they had come to look for me from Ibadan three times to tell me the programme should not stop, and that I should, therefore, come with more recordings. I then went to Ibadan to see them at NTA. At Ibadan, people were looking at me with a changed countenance; the ones that were not favourably disposed to greeting me hitherto started to greet me. I went straight to the programme manager, who stood up from his chair and embraced me. He told me they had started running the programme and that public response, including letters from the university communities, had been overwhelming. He then said the programme should not stop and asked if I had come with another synopsis. But I told him I only came to honour his invitation. That was how we continued till we hit 500 episodes. All sorts of challenges confronted us when we started.

Ifa Olokun was transmitted on Sundays. Christians later wrote to the station to protest that the programme was distracting their worshippers with the attendant low attendance at Sunday services. I also met my friend, the late Moses Olaiya (Baba Sala) one day, who said he didn’t know I had started a TV programme. He narrated the story of his uncle, who would abandon Sunday services halfway and rush home and start to shout “Dejumo, put on the plant”. He said though he always ordered that the plant be put on, it took him a further probe to know that it was my programme the old man rushed home from the church to watch. Baba Sala then embraced and congratulated me.

The programme was moved from Sunday to Friday to please the Christian community, but it wasn’t long before Muslims too kicked, saying it was wrong to fix the programme for the Jumat service day. That was how the programme was eventually moved to Saturday.

There was a day I went to Ile-Ife for a programme, I then saw a newspaper vendor passing by and I got a copy of the Daily Sketch. I opened the paper only to discover that they had been debating on the programme for about three weeks, saying Ifa Olokun was setting society back to the dark age. A contributor to the debate then pointed out that what Yemi Elebuibon was doing was right, arguing that if a man doesn’t know his past, it would be pretty difficult for him to understand his future. I was so surprised that people were discussing me without my knowledge. So, just as some were against the programme, many others were in support of it. That was one of the challenges, but we thank God, we were able to overcome.

 

Do you have any experience you regard as unforgettable?

So many of them. They are uncountable. But I’ll briefly mention the most important ones.

When I was with Duro Ladipo, he was the one taking us overseas; so, our travel documents were with him. But there was a time when an invitation was sent to me from Brazil. I then went to him to tell him and asked for my travel papers. But instead of releasing the documents, he said I should tell those who invited me to include him so that we could go together. I told him it was one air ticket they sent.

Looking for a way out, I decided to go for another passport, unknown to me that it was illegal. After obtaining the passport, I had an invitation from the American Embassy. I thought of going to obtain an American visa first. I left Osogbo at 5:00 am and got to the embassy by 8:00 am. I was then asked if I had been to America before. Sensing that there might be trouble if I said yes (with a new passport), I said I couldn’t remember. The officer then left and came back with a card bearing my name and my passport photograph and asked “Who is this?” I confessed I was the person. After some time, he called me and gave me my visa around 11:00 am.

Then I had to go, en route to London, and would have to obtain a transit visa in under 24 hours. When I alighted in Florida with a traveller’s cheque of N500, they asked me how long I intended to stay and I told them. They said the money I had on me was not enough for the period I wanted to stay with the status of the hotel I wanted to lodge in. The people that invited me, incidentally, were already outside waiting for me. The embassy officials put my card aside and attended to others. I then sensed trouble. But after a while, their supervisor called me and said I should come and collect my documents. He handed everything to me, saying that they got a call from the Mayor who invited me. I was left off the hook.

There was also a time we went to Miami Beach for Ifa Olokun. We went there with a ram, eggs and banana for a sacrifice, not knowing that the Animal Rights officials were parading the beach. They had a device with which they were monitoring everything around them.

My host for whom we came to do appeasement was to carry a pot on his head. So, as we were coming, we fell into the hands of the Police. They asked me what was in the pot on the person’s head. We lied and an argument ensued. I then asked if it was their head that they put the pot on. The others with me promptly cautioned me that the people arguing with us were law enforcement officers and urged me to mellow down and start to look for a spiritual solution. They hinted to me that if the officials should see the sacrifice we performed at the beach, then we might be in for serious trouble.

The Police asked for my identity card and passport, but I didn’t have any of them on me. We subsequently kept quiet. But the Police didn’t move a step further down to where the sacrifice was. They then took the address and phone number of my host, warning that should they find anything incriminating, they would get us. The wife of my host had known that we were already in trouble. By the time we blew the horn, she was at the gate waiting. How she got to know, I didn’t know. That was in Miami in 1978.

 

 How did you meet your wife?

I have four wives. My first wife is from Osogbo. her family hails from Ido-Osun. Their compound is Ile-Oluode Popo. She was a tailoring apprentice in our area then.

I got married late. Among my peers, I was the only one that didn’t marry early. It got to a stage where the late Duro Ladipo once asked what the problem was.

There was a lady in our team at that time – Airolape. She was so close to me that people thought I was going out with her. But I dared not because I was afraid. She had told me everything about herself and divulged all her secrets, including ailments and other challenges. So, the fear of being overwhelmed with her problems made me not make love advances to her. I knew she actually liked me and was looking forward to hearing from me.

So, when Oga Duro asked me, I told him I was not ready yet. He then asked ‘What about my sister?’ ( referring to Airolape). I said we had no such agreement. He then said I should go ahead with her. That was the situation until I met the woman I first married.

As I earlier said, she trained as a tailor. Her brothers were in Benin at that time. Having completed her training and preparing to buy her equipment, she left for Benin. That was how I lost contact with her.

But one day, she came home from Benin to deliver a message to her parents. I then asked where she had been all the while. She said she hadn’t forgotten what we discussed if I was still interested, saying she was ready if I was. That was how she didn’t go back to Benin again and we got married eventually.

I later proceeded further to marry a white lady and others, totalling four.

 

What’s your favourite food?

Though I love all Yoruba foods, I have a soft spot for pounded yam. I loved pounded yam so much when I was very young. The day I tasted eba, I wept profusely.

I was a privileged child – I am a child diviner who was revealed would come and take after his father. So, I was so privileged. But when I got to Popo, they tolerated me for a whole week, serving me with pounded yam on demand. But by the second week, they told me that I would have to make do with eba. I wept. That was the day I realised that my father was no more. They said I just had to take eba.

 

What genre of music do you prefer?

I love traditional music – Ijala, rara or any traditional music.

 

How do you relax?

I rarely rest. Whenever there isn’t much to do, they will ask me to go and rest. But I hardly stay without having something to write. Anywhere I find myself, I always like to have pen and paper because something may just come up like a poem or whatever.

At times when I feel like resting for a week before I know it, there’ll be things to do again. However, as a child, I was following Ojoge, an elderly person. He was very dexterous at using the catapult, killing birds, rats and other games. So, I learnt that from him. I love hunting with catapults so much.

READ ALSO: Hausa communities in Ibadan express commitment to orderliness at Sabo