To many people today, the Yorùbá name for Satan or the devil is Èṣù, but this is incorrect. It is a fact I have seen the likes of Professor Wole Soyinka speak about quite so often – how Èṣù is a Yorùbá deity, an entity on his own, rather than a dialectical mock-up of the biblical Satan in Yorùbá language.This summarily is the premise of Ibrahim Babátúndé Ibrahim’s short story titled ‘Of Works and Workshops of the Devil’ which was recently published in Sundial Magazine, a literary platform dedicated to publishing historical fiction from around the world.
The first interesting thing about this story is the fact that it actually contains another story, ‘The Work of Èṣù’ which was originally published and translated to French by Interpret magazine. Set in 1912 colonial Nigeria, the main story starts slowly with the description of a typical evening in a Yorùbá household. The moon is in the sky and the father is relaxing on a mat after having his supper. His daughter is washing plates and his son is spreading cocoa seeds. His wife enters the scene singing the popular Olúronbífolklore song and activities pick up from there.
The father is not a fan of western education even though his father was a book enthusiast. His wife is, however, as keen as his father was. Having gone from god to god and shrine to shrine for many years before finally having a child, a lurking fear of Olúronbí’s fate had driven her to find solace in the promises made by missionaries who wanted to have her kids in their school, of an everlasting saviour who could save her if any of those gods come after them like the Ìrókò did Olúronbí’s.This fear is made even more potent by the erratic manner in which her first child behaves, bullying fellow students in school, staying put in one grade without progressing, and getting into all kinds of trouble. The younger sister is the exact opposite, picking up her mother’s love for books and sharing things she learns in the classroom with her family.
When later that evening, the little girl makes her mother read her a story from her late grandfather’s library, it is one about Èṣù, his mischiefs, and some of the punishments he meted out on erring villagers in an ancient age. The girl is convinced she knows Èṣù because her teacher had told the class about him in his many stories from his religious book, the Bible. This alarms the father because he knows exactly who Èṣù is and can clearly see the misinformation.Despite his outbursts, when just moment after, a mob beats and marches his son home from peeking into the window of a neighbor’s daughter, all the consolation his daughter can give her weeping mother is that ‘it is the work of Èṣù’, a statement which is today a common excuse for misdeeds and questionable acts in the remixed form of:‘it is the work of the devil’.
The writing is simple, yet elegant, painting vivid imagery that sits the reader in the midst of all the action. You can inhale every smell, hear every echo, feel the breeze on your skin. The way Ibrahim inserts an entirely different story in the plot and still made it all into one is masterful. I especially like how the historical essence of the story is so well formed. I was indeed taken back in time to 1912. Asides being exquisitely written, the story is a culturally important one especially at a time when much of our identity as a people has been eroded by the gusts of popular culture. I also find it interesting that it was written by a practicing Muslim whose social media presence says much about his steadfastness to his faith, rather than a traditionalist or Èṣù activist. This highlights the fact that truth is truth regardless of who is saying it.
As someone who was once a TV channel manager at Nigezie, a publicist for several top-rated artistes, and general manager at both Euphoric Heritage Records and Aquila Records, it’s amazing how Ibrahim Babátúndé Ibrahimhas seamlessly transitioned into the literary world, winning prizes, and getting nominations as well as other recognitions in such little time. He is definitely one writer that has all my attention now.