The Bane that is The Yoruba Culture
As told by a Millennial in commemoration of Mental Health Awareness Month.
Disclaimer: This article is solely based on my past and current realities so all views are mine. I did not carry out any research to corroborate or justify the opinion that the culture might be a pain in the neck. I speak only for myself and a few others that might share this opinion with me. In no way do I intend to demean or condemn the elite ethnic group to which I belong and have belonged all my life. The Yoruba tribe and dynasty is one I still respect and most times, proud to be a part of. Please note that the emphasis is on the bane that the culture is and NOT the bane that the tribe is. Thank you.
Bane: Torment, Menace, Suffering, Distress, Pain, Nightmare, Curse, Woe, Misery, Despair.
So a little re-introduction. ̶S̶o̶m̶e̶ ̶o̶f̶ my names are Tolulope, Oluwabukola, Oluwatobiloba, Esther (hehe, because middle name), Oluwadamilola, Ajoke, Agbeke, Ibukunoluwa; but I like to go by the pseudonym Toolz O. even though it’s just the remake of my first and last name. By the way, jokes on you if you read the title of the article and assumed I must be from South-East Nigeria, or of the Igbo tribe — the often perceived cultural enemy of the Yorubas. Don’t worry just yet; I am not the enemy and in a bit, I will explain my ancestry to you to the best of my knowledge.
I was born and bred in South-South Nigeria(Port-Harcourt) and morph(ed)ing into adulthood in South-West Nigeria(Lagos). In Nigeria, as we all know, your state of origin or citizenship is popularly tied to your paternal ancestry and not necessarily the place of your birth. How do I explain that I am originally from South-West Nigeria(Kudeti, Ibadan) — with the side gist that my ancestors are actually from North-Central Nigeria (somewhere in Niger State) but migrated to Ibadan eventually — without even visiting both places up to count on both hands?! My paternal progenitors never even grew up in Ibadan though they say there is a house owned by my great-grandfather in Kudeti compound and that’s all of our heritage in Ibadan! Can you imagine? So, I literally come from no village nor had any village to travel to during the holidays. I only hail from Ibadan on paper and from Niger state in folklore. Talk about a National Identity crisis! Also, it is in your best interest not to find out the meaning of ‘’Kuudetty’’ but when you do (from a Yoruba speaking individual preferably), because I know you will😒, don’t you even begin to affirm the reason why such a place is located in Ibadan (lol, no hard feelings).
So…there you have it, my detached ancestry which makes me wonder;
How do you come from a place you do not live in, weren’t born in , don’t acclimatize to then become part of a tribe you do not exactly identify with, associate with, relate to or connect to???
How?!
Well, to answer that, I do not know how but if you do know HOW and WHY…, please do not hesitate to explain it to me!
But the fact remains, I am a Yoruba girl in all my glory! That’s the only culture I know even though I would like to be Igbo on some days, Spanish & French in some weeks, and American in some years, lol. I was brought up to admire the Yoruba culture and exude it in all its forms especially with showing ‘respect’ to the deserving and undeserving. This reminds me of how Obinze, from Adichie’s book Americanah, describes his wife’s pious greeting — which is something I agree with it as regards the Yoruba greeting culture and from where my gripe with the culture actually stems —
‘’There was something immodest about her modesty: it announced itself.’’
A few weeks ago, I responded to a tweet on my Twitter timeline. I would put up a screenshot here but I deleted the tweet because of the raised brows and unsolicited questions I received thereafter. Someone tweeted something about the Yorubas being so “adorable” or so and I retweeted with a comment- “Dirty people, Dirty culture”.Contrary to what you might think, I didn’t mean that literally. Well, I got lucky and wasn’t dragged out there or anything because people must have thought that for a “Yoruba” girl to speak that way, things must have gotten real in her life, lol. The person whose tweet I responded to even commented/concluded that I must be having issues in my non-existent Yoruba marriage, LMAO.
Now, the culture — ideas, customs, social behaviour, attitude, food (AMALA people, please don’t gather here for a selfie, not exactly one of you🤪) art, music, tradition, beliefs, values, morals, heritage, lifestyle, philosophy — of the Yorubas in entirety should be everything but a bane considering how admirable it is, but you see that part of the culture that has to do with GREETING?
Yes,that part that requires you to show utmost respect to the elderly and to those older than you (even by a millisecond) by genuflecting to show deference,kneeling to the floor to embody servitude and bowing to /prostrating on the floor to show reverence because it is in our “custom”to and the only true measure of the “RESPECT” currency; this is the part I find an extreme bane, a pain, a nightmare and in fact, an inherently “dirty” custom for a “dirty” people which I spit on,too.
If you can see or hear through the statement above, you will sense that there are still many other sentiments and experiences hidden in the plain sight of those embellished words. I give myself credit for even employing euphemism(s) to describe my loathing though you might not think of it as one. Also, I use the word -utmost- to imply that you’re not even trained or taught to show God (or a god) that kind of respect 24/7, which is the irony of it all. Their way of greeting to prove respect for another one doesn’t come from a place of truly wanting to honour themselves, at least not all the time…take it from someone whose grandmother has praised her for being the best “kneeler” amongst her 21 grandchildren. Don’t get me wrong, I adore and revere my grandma.
An even sadder irony is that the Yorubas seem to be one of the most disrespectful bunch out there, no questions asked! It’s almost like you are born respectful but innately disrespectful by default! Think about it for a minute..and by ‘’disrespectful’’, I mean VERBALLY ABUSIVE, ill-mannered, extremely rude, eye-rolling, bad-mouthing, teeth kissing, arrogantly behaving, loud talking, aggressive personas who are two-timing, betraying, hypocrites; cunning and superiority complex(ed) for people who have been kneeling and prostrating their whole lives!
Phew! That’s some steam that let off and por favor, no offense to your identity.
Now I realize that not all Yorubas might share this same reality with me even the slightest bit (note that it is not just an opinion), but those of you who do and can relate to this, probably have been nodding all up to this point because it’s true and really annoying.
It is annoying to require that your children, every single morning, kneel to greet you in the five seconds they sight you when they awake because it pleases you and would also please their future in-laws. It is annoying to demand that with every return to your house from the outside, comes a new greeting with new kneeling. It is… well, quite okay to ask that they kneel when showing gratitude but it is annoying to demand that a girl/lady/woman genuflect to greet you at work because she is the same age as your daughter at home. It is highly annoying to condemn other tribes and cultures for not greeting in the same subservient manner and therefore views their culture as less superior. It is really annoying to approve of siblings and cousins within the same age bracket referring to the oldest ones as ‘’Aunty’’ or ‘’Uncle’’ when it only widens their relationship gap. In fact, it is highly disgusting to demand they kneel to apologize to you after you offended them but tell them they offended you. It is appalling to train children to live a servile life only to use their mastery of it as a personal trophy. It is just unbelievable to always ask that the younger one -in every scenario imaginable- lay down their life for the older one, almost literally.
Before you hold me to conjecture and refuse to accept this truth, try to see how you might have fallen prey or predator to this culture and what service or disservice you might be bringing or have brought to yourself, your generation, or the society at large while trying to enforce or imbibe this kind of culture. If you haven’t, lucky you! I sure don’t wanna end up as a parent who only cares about training their child to look and act modestly to the outside world while omitting the training of respect/modesty for the inside world as regards to SELF -respect for self, respect for mental health and respect for emotional health-important things a child should take seriously as well…but, I plan to still pass down the Yoruba traditions and cultures in a mentally healthier way without reducing their self-worth to being a ‘’kneeler’’ or letting respect be the only thing they come to know about my relationship with them. Modesty, really should not announce itself…the sole reason for which it is described as mOdEsTy.
As much as I shun the pious, excessive, entitled greeting culture of the Yorubas, you would probably still catch me trying to bend a knee to greet a ‘’beggar’’ older than I am which is why I still wonder what truly defines RESPECT. Should respect be hinged on age differences or true value for one another? Should respect be reciprocal or conditional? Should respect be seen as the emblem of ethnicity or a societal norm? So much I’m yet to understand.
Well, you can think ‘bout it too while I try to think of a befitting concluding statement for this ‘’treason’’ of an article, lol.
Now, I’m still on the ‘Yoruba greeting culture being a bane’ matter and my last two cents would be “NEVER HIDE BEHIND CULTURE TO TEACH RESPECT”.
To the ones who might never see this,stop demanding that with every sight of an elder,follows a greeting or gesture that is not genuine. Stop training children to appear their best before extended family and friends without training them to act same in the midst of their of their friends/peers…ask the grown-ups who remember how rude or verbally callous their Yoruba friends were to them as children.Stop demanding respect from your siblings,cousins,children,friends,colleagues or employees when it’s your spouse you really desire it from or vice versa.Really,just stop asking for respect as a reward for your aging behind!
To the victims of this “baneful” culture, refuse to allow your worth come from people showing you respect on the basis of age and emphatically, refuse to think that all you have to offer is respect and honor to become a saint in Yoruba Heaven. Your kneels ,head,spirit ,mind and soul can be used for much more than greeting or servility. Emancipate yourself from the constant wondering of ‘what others will think’ if you get it wrong or even right.
I only started writing again because I decided to rekindle the flame of an old passion. An old passion that helped me express my opinionated, impassioned self without being called to question, at least not directly. A passion that is now helping me climb out of high-built walls with iron-steel bars and helping me break free from age-long rusty chains. Since I needed to leave Jericho, this was my only praise. Writing, found me again when my Mental Health needed me the most. After 7 ‘’published’’ articles on Medium, I exit Jericho on the high horses of this eighth article hoping never to return. I fought all enemies of self-doubt and the need for approval to earn this taste of mental freedom and awakening.
‘’Since I needed to leave Jericho, this was my only praise.’’
Books and Biros will always be my favourite form of mental emancipation and my favorite ticket to a World of Escape but I am learning to be FREE even in an imprisoned mind or home and till I attain that kind of true liberty, true unparalleled freedom, I’d keep fighting to keep my head above water. Depression -and the lack of joy- is a mighty ugly well.
So, in commemoration of Mental Health Awareness month (and maybe Children’s Day) my only kind advice to you my dear readers would be to FIND YOUR PRAISE. Break free from those mind shackles, from Chi.dult.hood and from whatever wiles that be, then fully embrace yourself alongside your idiosyncrasies, you know, those peculiarities that come with being you, without holding yourself to expectations of any man.
I really hope your passion finds you but more importantly, I hope you find your praise(s) then fight mercilessly for your freedom:
Freedom from whatever keeps you sub-par, freedom from whatever keeps your head bowed, freedom whatever incarcerates your spirit, cages your mind or traps your soul, freedom from whatever makes you question your self-worth and freedom from sin.
See you in your World of Escape.
Xx,
Tee.
P.S- Happy Children’s Day! In my folks’ opinion, Children’s Day has everything to do with me still being their bonafide child and nothing to do with my age🙄…We have cake and ice cream to celebrate today so cheers to celebrating the 27th of May forever then!
P.P.S- I’m quite open to continuing this culture gist on Twitter, Instagram, or LinkedIn if you like.
P.P.P.S- Stay winning!
Originally published : May 27th ,2020
