Coming to Itesiwaju

Ubong Essien
This contents page is intentionally left blank.

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 Preface

“There is no point documenting this account.” For me, an impassive computer

technician, I considered it an exercise in futility, consuming the time I would have
used in writing computer programs instead of writing my adventures in an unknown
land. If I were to turn the wheel of ‘fate’ and write about fiction with contents on
such things as Miss Koi-koi, UFOs, aliens, dancing Hippocampus, etc. then chances
are that people would believe me. When I started posting short transit stories on a
popular social media platform, most of my readers didn’t accord it an iota of
credence. That was enough to deter me from documenting this. Yet, in spite of this
discouragement, I took to heart the words of some of my university lecturers that I
should pursue writing not just as a hobby but carrier. Anybody reading this — even
though I am sure it won’t see the light of print should not expect it to sound like a
bestseller. The author is a stolid computer technician that studied geography but
takes writing as a hobby. You see, I am just trying to balance my life on a tripod that
the legs are made of ice, fire and water.

I find it difficult knowing where to start. I have been writing academic projects but
they can’t help as a model here. Maybe a good place might be why and where the
trip all started. Despite the scolds from the moronic readers of my transit stories, I’ll
still have to go back to the transit. I know how boring it is to read about where you
have never been before, so to reward reading with pleasure, the first few pages are
written in such a way that you will join the author on a mental trip from Uyo to Oyo,
not rhyme intended.

This book is written to cushion the shocking effect of being thrusted into Otu, an
environment different and away from one’s comfort zone. Although written
specifically for visitors coming into Itesiwaju, the book can be enjoyed by anyone

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who wishes to peer into the Yoruba culture. It is written with simple terms so as to
be understood by wide range of readers. It begins with first impressions visitors
always have about the land and other preconceived impressions about the Yoruba
culture. There’s a shift towards the people, their culture and customs. Away from
that are tips on how to settle by finding an accommodation. But that isn’t the end,
your stay can’t be complete without immersing yourself into the cuisines of the land
and that can be complemented with tourism.

It is my hope that this act like a shock absorber to your coming to Otu and may you
find the tips on how to live, socialize, progress (Itesiwaju) and have fun in Itesiwaju.
In the words of the people: Ekabo si Itesiwaju!

Ubong Essien
May 2020

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 Acknowledgements

It is unjust attempting to delineate a few individuals from the multitudinous folks of

both Yoruba and non-Yoruba origin who made my stay in Otu a memorable
experience, but not attempting at all would be more unjust.

My thanks in no particular order goes to the good people of Otu who loved us with
arms open wide enough to accommodate us throughout our stay. Hope Emmanuel,
a dear friend and a quarrel partner who discovered the antidote to depression in Otu
(a bottle of chilled cocktail, Smoov Chapman). You know I loved you more than
every other person at home (I pray Tina shouldn’t see this). Bolanle, you were the
only one who could tolerate and understand my temperament and melancholic
humor. I wonder why you didn’t study psychology. Every so often, I’ve overheard
her speak in support of me that by now others should understand me. Clementina, I
won’t forget the efere mkpafere (If you’d ever read this, don’t ask for the
interpretation) that you prepared in a hurry. It was yummier compared to the one I
ate few days earlier when I went to Ini Local Government Area. You guys were the
best housemates I’ve ever associated with. I wish we could do it all over again.
Ifeoluwa, although you used to call me Mbong instead of Ubong, no problem. Those
days you used to check on me really helped me more than you will ever know. May
life smile on you all and bless you girls forever.

To you reading this, I offer my thanks to you too. To those that insisted I should
come back with the saga of my South to West relocation, I can say that you guys
cleared this temperate path for me and guided me gently onto it.

To members of Otu congregation, you were simply the best. You all have a special
place in my heart. The sacrifices, the love and the bond will not be forgotten in a
hurry.

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 Dedication

To an NYSC Retired Director

Chief (Mrs) Foluso Asake Lasaki

She altered my agelong perception about life in her 3 hours discourse.

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6
 Prologue

Monday, June 17, 2019.

It is three days before summer solstice’s night, the driver glanced up in annoyance.
Checking the fuel gauge of the car, he complained to us that the car was running out
of petrol. Meanwhile it was already late at night, all petrol stations might have
closed. Even if they were still on, where would we get money to refuel the car? Some
minutes previously he complained to us that they do not receive money for petrol
instead the company fuels the car with enough petrol for any trip they want to embark
on before leaving the park.

Well, that was his own predicament. Mine was how to get to my destination. “We
paid all that was required so what is left is for you to take us to our destination. Why
should we contribute money for petrol again?” Those were fellow passengers
sneering the poor innocent driver. As for me, I was drenched in misery and the little
energy that was left in me was reserved for breathing. I did my part to help find our
way but the suspicious driver didn’t accept the directives I gave him for direction
from google map. I was at the backseat of the Toyota Hiace blaming myself for even
choosing to go to school. The world was at rest but we were wandering in the middle
of nowhere trying to find our way at night. My saving grace was the duet I did with
Sandra (name has been changed) the previous night. We made a cover of Johnny
Drille’s “Wait for me.” I started with the first verse while she replied with the second.
The song served as a token to safeguard the long distance relationship we were about
to embark on.

Let me tell you a little about myself. My mother calls me Akanimoh while my father
calls me Ubong. Personally, I would like to be called Akanwealth but unfortunately
Ubong Essien prevails over the rest. In the region that my night trip later landed me,

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the name was slightly corrupted and some people started calling me Mbong. That
was the best way they could pronounce the name. Ubong is synonymous to ‘Glory’
in English language, it is a ceremony in which a king or queen is to be crowned.
Mbong on the other hand is the name used when referring to a group of kings and
queens. Hence, I did not really bother as to what they called me because the
corrupted version of the name had almost the same meaning with my real name. Few
erudite ones will always ask if I’m a Ghanaian. Reasons? I always tell people my
name is Akan Essien and according to them, my name ‘Akan’ is a tribe in Ghana
while my surname ‘Essien’ is the name of a Ghanaian footballer.

I am from the South-South region of the country Nigeria, Akwa Ibom State to be
specific but upon arrival, the inhabitants didn’t only succeed in changing my name
but also my state of origin. While some called me Omo Igbo, some called me Calabar
man. I will always spend minutes trying to root out their perception that any Nigerian
that isn’t Yoruba or Hausa automatically becomes Igbo.

Well, this isn’t a dictionary of names or an autobiography but the report of an

adventure into a spicy land. So let’s get down to where the voyage all started.

Tuesday, June 12, 2019.

My joy knew no boundary when I saw I was posted to Oyo state. It was where I
opted and prayed for. In fact, I had to read my call up letter over and over again until
I lost count on the number of times I glanced through the screen of my computer to
be really sure I was posted to Oyo state and not to camp there then later move to
another state to serve. I read it with a cheerful smile on my face as if it was a love
letter from a crush. I was so happy that I tore my medical report that I paid for. I was
hypnotized that I tore it into pieces smaller than that from a shredder.

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 Sunday, June 16, 2019.

The day for the long awaited trip finally arrived. I booked a seat with one of the
renowned transport companies that I won’t disclose the name. They promised to take
us direct to Iseyin camp of Oyo state but getting to the park things turned sour. A
glimpse of what happened is described at the outset on Monday, June 17. I wondered
and I’m still wondering why such a company with high repute should void their
contract terms at the expense of their clients. A bus that was supposed to go straight
to Oyo state only was now going to two other nearby states. Even an old woman in
the farm that has never crossed the boundary of the state before could tell that it was
not feasible for a bus leaving Uyo by 10am to get to Ogun, Osun and Oyo States on
the same day. The management persuaded the driver to take Oyo, Ogun and Osun
passengers that all three states were at proximity. The NYSC camp of those states
were not only miles apart but the locations were unknown to the driver. The only
thing they have in common is their initials and they are all Yoruba sates. Google
map was supposed to be our saving grace but the driver didn’t subscribe to our
suggestions. He derailed from the route and you can imagine what lay ahead of us.
Let me just leave it to your imaginations. Innocent passengers that were heading to
Ogun and Osun states were handed over to an unknown driver in the night speaking
a strange foreign language. The rest of us had to pull over somewhere so as to
continue the journey to Iseyin the next day. I was so desperate that I nearly spent the
night with an unknown member of the opposite sex in a room at a guest house (I
didn’t have money to pay for a separate room). A sacrilege I didn’t give in to. We
the penniless ones had to recline on the outside wall fighting with mosquitoes and
cold throughout the night, but I had a personal thorn in the flesh, I was also battling
with stomach upset! It was from the roadside food I ate that night when we pulled
over. How we survived the night can be narrated as a whole story book.

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 Tuesday, June 18, 2019.

We couldn’t wait for the break of dawn before hitting the road again. Poco a poco,
the dark night gave way to sunup. We were driving in the heart of the city. The rays
of the morning sun filtered brightly through the brown roofs to hit our faces. Fine
buildings, tall skyscrapers, estates, eateries and other amenities gave us hope. Alas!
We saw light at the end of the tunnel. There was this joyous smile on our faces and
it was a fulfilment of the phrase that joy comes in the morning. “Finally, Ibadan here
we come, we will enjoy this town,” announced my colleague from the front seat. As
a geographer, my interest was on the people, culture, urban planning, settlement,
transportation and the like. The beautiful morning of the city was enshrouded in
brown roofs that rhymed with the color of small taxicabs called Nissan Micra.

We left Ibadan, Oyo’s capital on a two-lane road heading to Iseyin. After asking
some early morning cab drivers for directions, we finally found our way out of the
silhouette of several blackish-brown roofs we were navigating in-between. The
terraces were an amazing display of beauty and ingenuity. The rocky and steeply
landscape makes for a good case study. You don’t need any measurement to be done
before knowing that the incline of some of the slopes exceed 50 percent. Some are
very old buildings and the ancient builders were not deterred by this. At such slopes
are several houses that appear like they are carved from the non-verdant hills when
viewed from afar. To reach the peak of some of the buildings, flight of stairs are
carved following the contour of the hills skyward. The city presented a feast for my
eyes.

Travelling on, we crossed an invisible boundary. We entered another zone. Trees

formed a green canopy over the road. Dense underbrush covered the floor of the
thick forest. This was far from the image of the shriveled shrubbery that obnubilate
the floor of the so called rainforest down the south-south region that I was raised.
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Ahead, a green signpost battered by rainfall, rust and dust identified the town as Ido.
It is not an exaggeration to say that travelling through Ido can make you feel you’re
in a time travelling machine travelling back in time to the 20th century. A traditional
pre-20th century African culture is portrayed in the linear housing pattern along the
road. Here, one can visit the past while in the present, maybe it is a survivor of a
bygone age. But what lies ahead, a community made of uneducated peasants or the
birthplace of stars? Let’s find out.

Finally, the resistive jerks, abrupt lurches, groaning and moaning of the bus came to
a halt. The road leading to the camp should be traversed by an old Land Rover with
good shock absorbers. If you’re coming from Ibadan to visit this part of the state,
you must note this small warning: If you’re the one driving and it is your first time
of going there you will be excused if you think that others driving in front of you are
intoxicated. Their meandering and twisting without warning is as a result of the
potholes that plague the road. To avoid these cavities, make sure you use an off road
vehicle and you should twist and turn also as you see them meander.

We’re now at our destination. Here we will be spending the next 21 days before
knowing if our anticipation of enjoying the amenities we saw at Ibadan will become
a reality. A towering barbed wired fence paints a picture of Nazi concentration camp
in Germany. Nearby, guards resembling custom control points inspected our vehicle.
A guard checked us in, turned the keys to lock the world outside the gate. We were
separated from the rest of the world.

Iseyin Camp

The camp is located in a large remote area far from the state capital, but despite its
isolation, the Iseyin camp was a hive of activity. About 5000 people congregated

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there for 21 days. And you can imagine how grim that could be. A camp is certainly
not a place most people would want to stay but Iseyin camp had much to offer. All
the essentials were there, food, water, shelter, electricity and even a health facility.
In the flurry camp market, one could shop for almost everything from colorful
fabrics of adire to delicious ewedu and amala. You can even have your cellphone
fixed.

The camp was a melting pot of cultures. It was a model Nigeria were each tribe,
culture and language agreed to stay in a mixing bowl. There was much to gain and
absolutely nothing to lose. It was very difficult for me to get along with others but
at some point I was able to adapt, which was the only resort for survival inside
Ajimobi hostel. We survivors of the hostel should be allowed to add it to our skills
and experience when writing our curriculum vitae. The 21 days stay at Iseyin camp
is a story I’ll carefully avoid because of fear of running out of words.

Monday, July 8, 2019.

The early hours of this day was not like the mornings of the previous 20 days. Instead
of waking up to the parade ground, I woke up to pack my belongings to my
backpack. It was the day we were all waiting for. Finally, we were free to walk out
of the gate we were locked in to see the world again. My joy knew no bounds, my
mood lightened and my spirits brightened. Hope of being free again bloomed inside
me and happiness glowed too. I was treasuring every moment apart from the
nostalgic feeling about the friends I’ve made.

Unfortunately, my joy and ecstasy didn’t last for long. It was announced that we
should go get our posting letters. I pounded my feet on the hallway that divided the
Ajimobi hostel. That was my final exit out of the place. I turned back like Lot’s wife

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to gaze at my bunk to be sure nothing important was left behind. But my vision was
blurry, it was disfigured as if I was looking through a fish-eye lens. In my mind’s
eye all I could see was my posting letter not empty bunks arranged like the Intensive
Care Unit of Florence Nightingale’s hospital after World War II. Someone from afar
could see my heart thudding in my chest. I was anxious like a promiscuous fellow
awaiting his HIV test result. My weak bones and muscles finally moved me closer
to the man that was issuing posting letters. I was also closer to knowing my fate. I
was posted to Itesiwaju Local Government Area!

My eyes were fixed on my posting letter and my phone screen simultaneously. I

dialed the number of a family friend and a secondary school class mate from Oyo
state. Prior to this time, when he heard I was posted to Oyo state he promised to help
when I was out of camp. I started muttering the name Ite-si-wa-ju to him as if I was
learning to read for the first time. “Where is Itesiwaju?” was his reply. “Was that a
rhetorical question? How am I supposed to know places in your own state?” I
retorted. “The name sounds strange to me” was his response. Olumide promised to
call back after making enquires. His reply was good enough to cause dismay. If an
indigene of the state is hearing the name for the first time then I’ve been posted to a
dismal prison, I thought to myself. Was it from the way I pronounced the name to
him? Do not even think so because he asked for the spelling too. Geographers
shouldn’t ask for directions and locations. I later realized it myself that I was posted
to a local government area that shares boundary with where I was standing. It’s not
too interior anyway, I consoled myself. But was my guess and consolation correct?

Come with me as I board a car again for the first time after 21 days, this time we are
heading to the Northern part of the state.

Getting to each destination was as easy as locating a car with a banner that bears the
name of the local government area on your posting letter. I was squeezed into a mini-
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caravan and we began the journey of about 50minutes drive. The road was a
continuum of the one that led us to the camp. The spasmodic jerks and twerks came
to a halt at the Local Government Secretariat. We had a brief lecture at the secretariat
and I can still recall the spokesman eulogizing the area saying that Itesiwaju means
progress and as such we should not relocate if we want to progress in life. Little by
little I was learning Yoruba. I groaned and sighed but to myself. The lecture was
over but my numbed and battered legs were asleep. I wasn’t feeling any sensation
again but they were not too weak to carry me along the paved sidewalk of the
secretariat complex to my new resident. I unconsciously followed the footsteps of
the crowed without being aware of my surroundings anymore. Like a person doing
Hatha Yoga, I was trying to restore my mental and emotional imbalances.

Ekabo si Otu.

I saw Otu as a village built with adobe bricks, yet it is undoubtedly the most
developed community in the Local Government Area and it is also the headquarters.
Being posted here was considered a privilege by others but was it worth the hype?
When I first typed the name in my phone to notify a friend of where I was posted to,
auto-correct changed it from ‘Otu’ to ‘Out’. At that point, my phone reminded me
that I was sent to the most distant part of the earth. Seriously I was “Out” of sight
from friends and the amenities I saw at Ibadan.

We finally arrived home. It was a weather beaten house that resembles a bungalow
when viewed from afar. We walked to entrance on broken shingles like prehistoric
Easter eggshells. The erosion-induced elevated building was accessible by steps so
narrow such that it would admit only one person at a time. The entry was open not
because people were already at home but because the door was hanging off its

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hinges. The pintle was already on the floor. The whole building was accessible only
through a corridor. A wreath was on the door post. With its faded color, you don’t
need carbon dating to tell that it has been frozen and thawed by a hundred harmattans
and summer sun respectively. The bricks of the wall of the corridor smelled dust and
age. Adorned with mosaic formed by cracks, the house provides a house for other
creatures like crickets, spiders and the like. The air here is fresher than that in a
utopian city. Beyond the thick walls I could hear the pounding of mortar and smell
the aroma of Ewedu. Goats outnumber the inhabitants and the former, the stunted
West African dwarfs have no fear of you. The aroma from the fireplace took me
back to my youth. The good parts were not so good anyway and the bad parts of
coming here were more frustrating. My first night, I was outside watching the starry
sky and couldn’t wait to return home. The night was a special kind of blackness.
Maybe a variant of vantablack. It was as if I was watching lights out in a cinema. It
was like Saturday, 28 March, 2020 at 8:30pm. Living in the city, I was used to having
glows of streetlight filter through my window into the room. The addled windows
were made like a Stevenson screen. The cold breeze that filtered through it to the
floor I laid was cold enough to stir up suicidal thoughts. But it was also my saving
grace, it was my little gateway to happiness. I was able to stare at the crescent moon
in the night sky through it. The look warmed my life like a fireplace on a cold winter
night. Many find it difficult falling asleep when they arrive a new place and I’m not
an exception. Even if I were to lie on a California king bed, I wouldn’t sleep let alone
the cold floor I found myself. The latter created an avenue for the demons in me to
come out for a dance to the rhythm of my heartbeat throughout that night.

I didn’t need an alarm clock to wake me. The rooster did its anticipatory predawn
crowing. I raised my head with bleary eyes and noticed the fading light from the

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moon like a bad stage light in a theater. It was ushering a new day, the day I waited
so long for.

Wednesday, July 7, 2019.

Like a hostage victim about to be released, my spirit bounded higher and I was
transported with joy to the garage. I admired everything that passed me by, I mean
those insignificant wonders that are significant to those with poetic eyes. For me,
happiness is in everything even in a nineteen hour ‘road journey’ that lay ahead of
me. Not just road, but a typical Nigerian road. The one that will rip off a stained
smile on your lips when the car enters a pothole.

For luxury and speed, flying is essential. For adventure, travelling overland is what
I always opt for. Well, the truism of the matter is that I had no money for flight but
that notwithstanding, the sense of wandering in a specific direction itself is heavenly
and indescribable. Flying aborts the splendor, the misery and the challenges of a
journey. In lieu of flying, I boarded 19 buses, 28 taxis, 16 tricycles and 125
motorcycles throughout my journeying in and out of Itesiwaju when this script was
being compiled. With my cellphone as my recorder, I was able to document
everything.

Saturday, September 10, 2019.

As I stepped out of the car I boarded from Otu to Ibadan into the tropical urban heat,
I spotted what seemed like a legion of Micras flowing with noisy honks in both
directions along one of the main thoroughfares of the city called Iwo road. It is
infrequent to find one without slogans, names, pictures, designs, and also dents all
over the body. Most have a name on them showing the route they ply. Some drivers
decorate it with their nicknames or other Yoruba slogans, pinup girls or religious
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emblems. Making stickers for cabs seems to be a lucrative business here because
drivers are always hungry for more stickers. Some will have unnecessary
paraphernalia attached to the small innocent car, splashguards that are bigger than
the car, pictures of musicians and other inscriptions are on the windshield and you
can’t help but to wonder if the drivers can see through the maze of graffiti they turn
their windshield into.

I never knew that those routes on the sides are names of Local Government Areas
and not necessarily where they are going to. To get to your destination, you have to
signal a speeding Micra with your hand. Some that are not fully loaded will attract
your attention by honking at you. Some will honk in such a way that it sounds like
they are playing a musical note with the horn.

Finally, I boarded a Micra. I was lucky to be the first passenger inside. “Wọle,” said
the driver. I didn’t understand the meaning of wọle but I knew it was an invitation
to hop in with the signal he made with his hand. How much is Iwo road? He replied
by saying Waso. Finding a driver that speaks English with you is like finding a four-
leaf clover. Since it was relatively cheap, I decided to pay for two seats for
convenience. He took my load to the trunk of the car. I tucked my knees under my
chin. “Business thrives when friends and relatives pay for their services” was written
on the windshield, this serves as a warning that all should pay for their fare. The
dashboard was covered with a black-brown velvet. The color must have changed
because of the dusty road. You can’t help but to ask yourself rhetorically why the
dials and the controls on the dashboard are covered, the fuel meter, speedometer,
etc. After few seconds, a passenger halted the driver, walked to the door to say
“Elo?” I mistook it for a greeting and I replied with a “Hi.” I learnt another Yoruba
word that day but through the hard way. I was glad it was only the three of us at the
scene. Elo or Elo ni later became an everyday word for me whenever I want to

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purchase anything. The drivers are very skillful in maneuvering through the thick
traffic, sometimes missing another car few inches because they drive without
keeping a safe distance. It was my first trip in a Micra, my eyes were glued to the
interior so I missed much of the scenery outside. Where was I heading to? I was
returning to my state of origin for the first time since Monday, June 17, 2019.

End of prologue

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There are many ways to get to Itesiwaju but just like so many people, I entered
through Ibadan. Don’t be shocked that when you alight from a vehicle at the garage
people will be running after you to grab your luggage. Do not ever try to stop them
because you may not be able to. Some will even start exchanging words with each
other in a strange language that you do not understand (except you understand
Yoruba), struggling with each other over your own bag. Each will claim they will
take you to your destination although they do not have an idea about where you are
heading to. Some are just people trying to help you so that you will find them some
money. If you do not need help because you are not too tired then just hold on to
your luggage and keep saying “rara,” the Yoruba word for no. sometimes even if
you do not need help they won’t let go of your bag so just be prepared by having
small denomination of naira notes with you so as to reward them.

Most sensible people will always visit the toilet before embarking on a long distant
journey, others go an extra mile by not eating. If you are to get that mother of all
diarrheas, make sure you use the one at the park (it is always a liberating experience)
before leaving because the journey you are about to embark on is approximately
3hours drive inland. Enjoy your cruise to Itesiwaju!

The Culture Shock

What does Oyo state mean to you? Do you think of it being an old city enshrouded
in brown roofs? Does it conjure a picture of people wearing tribal marks and Agbada,
eating amala ati ewedu on a Saturday evening with talking drummers entertaining
them? Do hearsays endure? When my friend heard I was moving to Oyo state he
poked fun of me saying I should be careful with pepper. He sarcastically added that

19
the defunct soft drink Dr. Pepper was produced in the state. He ended his satire by
saying if you can’t speak Yoruba then you’re On Your Own. I felt I was going to
starve to death or soil myself for not knowing how to say “food” or “toilet” in Yoruba
language. I felt I was going to lost my way for not being able to tell my destination
if stranded. To help solve the latter problem, I decided to digitize the map of the area
into my phone and it was always with me. Things were not as bad as I expected. At
some point, all my armors were no longer useful. Trying to generalize can be very
dangerous. It is also horribly unfair to single out Otu from other villages in Itesiwaju
as a case study but not doing so at all would be even more unfair.

It is not uncommon to hear visitors describe Otu as being displeasing, clamorous,

pricey, too interior, local and with other exasperating adjectives you wouldn’t use to
describe your enemy. Others, especially those that are not of Yoruba origin believe
their aim is to drain the purse of any stranger at their market. When I first arrived
Otu, seeing people wear machetes with sheath made me think they were xenophobes.
I never knew they were very kind and hospitable. If you are a tourist and you’ve
never experienced culture shock then chances are that you have never visited Otu.
Do you always trust your first impression to the extent of not giving a second or third
trial? Take advantage of the adventures Otu offers to her offspring and to her guests
for a day, week, months or years.

Geography

The Local Government Area covers an area of about 1,514km2 making it about half
the size of Lagos state. It is bordered in the North by Atisbo, South by Iseyin, East
by Atiba and Oyo West while the West is by Kajola and Iwayowa. The local
government area is divided geographically into seven communities and Otu is the

20
headquarters and the center stage of this book. Otu is named after the main river of
the town. The climate is not too distinct from that of the surrounding Western states.
Sometimes the weather can be extreme – too hot and dry and sometimes too cold
especially during harmattan. It can be so dry that almost all the water bodies in the
community will be dying of thirst. During my stay, I saw the rivers keep shrinking
until they were reduced to a mere trickle. Between the months of December and
February the river bed will be reduced to a saline desert. The greater percentage of
the region is covered in forest which makes the Local Government Area to be
completely agrarian. Logging and unrestricted hunting with frequent bush fires
during the dry season endangers the ecology of the area and one can imagine what
will come out of it in the next few decades.

21
During the dry season, almost all the water
bodies will be reduced to a mere trickle.
22
Settling in

Moving into a new place especially from an urban to a rural area can be very
frustrating unless otherwise you are used to rural areas or you have an adventurous
heart. If you’ve been probably using air-con Uber cabs from the comfort of your
home through a super highway to your destination, it’s time to adjust. Chances are
that your Uber will be a motorcycle, the pavement you used to use for a brisk walk
in the evening is used here for setting things on for sale. I felt I was taken back to a
different era, to an area existed in its own time zone far behind that of the rest of the
country. The frontispiece of some buildings are crumpling. Some houses are like
leftovers from the 19th century. At first sight, you’ll assume you are taken to a distant
past or exploring an outdoor museum of antiquities. One of my colleagues described
it as not making any move or progress instead being stuck in time. Thanks to the
Baptist church bell that reminds people of the passing of time. Otu is not too difficult
to adjust compared to other rural communities in the country that I’ve been to. Many
of the inhabitants speaks typical Yoruba though. I know of some Yoruba friends that
find it difficult to understand the Yoruba that is spoken here. You can only imagine
what will happen to someone without any prior knowledge of the Yoruba language
moving in. Meanwhile, the village offers a relatively high quality of life. Having to
deal with the intricacies of a distinctive Yoruba language and culture is not the only
first frustration (isn’t a first frustration but a lasting one) that hits you when you
touchdown Otu but the problem of having access to banking service, poor services
at restaurants, sporadic power supply are other problems you have to grapple with.

Despite the culture shock and other causes of frustrations that awaits you as a
newcomer, something more important to compensate also awaits you. Be assured of
a less stressful working condition, a relaxed pace of life, a safe environment

23
relatively free from pollution of all sorts, a rich cultural heritage and above all, good
West African dishes and almost cheap everything.

Standard apartments are currently springing up in the town. There are newer
compounds or nicely renovated ones with flush toilet and reasonable water supply.

24
25
It was the Baptist church bell that
used to remind me of the passage of
time.
Despite these, in your search for an apartment, it is very useful to know if there is a
toilet and water if you are interested in an old fashioned house. Because of the
geology of the town, most houses are without toilets and some houses are built on
rock outcrops. Based on my four months experience in one of these houses, living
in these compounds is a complete immersion into life as most of the locals live it.
Though some of the inhabitants of these houses do not have many material things
common to people in the cities, the joy on their faces everyday shows that a
satisfying life is not dependent on much material possessions. Goats pop in and out
of your apartment as they wish if you forget to lock the door. Unlike Ibadan, you can
get an apartment without having to pass through a realtor, of course that will cut
down on your budget on accommodation. There are no yellow pages so you have to
ask the locals for apartments that are up for grabs. There is an added advantage if
you speak and understand Yoruba. This will cost you legwork but be sure that you
take advantage of every insignificant detail you see. Your budget will determine the
type of accommodation you’ll get. From small mud buildings to gated apartments,
you have a wide range to choose from. Few estates are springing up but only few
apartments are up for grabs because most of them are built for family use only. So
far, there are no bad neighborhood so anywhere anytime, you will feel safe and
secure. You can be rest assured that your kids can feel safe and secured if they play
outdoor. You can enjoy unhindered strolls around the neighborhood during sunset.

Most of the houses are just so old that you don’t need to undertake carbon dating to
know that they have survived many decades if not up to a century. Electricity is
available in every part of the town but not in all houses and its supply is very
sporadic. Almost all the houses except new buildings lack modern toilet facilities
and water supply. Most of the houses are constructed with earthen bricks and some
are plastered with cement. Some of these houses are bungalows and it is such an

26
architectural feat how they have survived for such a long period of time without
collapsing. Some are constructed with high roofs that the roof becomes a storehouse
for grains and it can be accessed by a ladder always kept in the corridor.

27
Goats pop in and out of your apartment as they wish. They
used to stand here to peep through my wee window
waiting for me to leave so they can pop in. This picture
28
was taken right inside my room.
The people

In Otu, it is clear when you are a visitor. Unless you were born in Otu, then it will
be obvious you are not from the town depending on how fluent you speak Yoruba.
Blood is the determining factor of your citizenship. There is an adage that everyone
here sucked one breast. The social network here is very intimate and there is a
possibility that they all know each other by name. Surprisingly enough, in this day
and age where we live in a “me first” world, the people here still practice the honor
system. Like you’d expect, the greatest percentage of people living here are the
ethnic Yorubas. The remaining percentage can be divided into three major groupings
which can easily be distinguished linguistically, culturally and a little geographically
except for the Fulfulde speaking Fulani that have their own settlement at the suburb
of the town. Their settlement is marked distinctively by their dome houses supported
by compact millet stalk pillars. Some houses in their settlement are made of
permanent structures like mud or concrete and it shows a revolutionary adaptation
to the Yoruba culture. This attest to the saying that when in Rome you act like the
Romans. That notwithstanding, they still maintain their cultural identity. A visit to
their camp got me awestruck with their distinctive and micro culture. Most of them
can speak Yoruba fluently which shows how long they’ve been accommodated here.
Their surroundings are exceptionally clean, from the back of the cooking pot on fire
to the reed mat on the floor they will offer you to sit on. When you pay them a visit,
be ready to eat whatever food they present to you. They consider you to be an enemy
if you reject what they offer you. Depending on when you visit, you may be lucky
to be given a fermented milk out of a decorated calabash.

Second to the Fulani in terms of numbers but not of culture are the Hausas. They do
not have a designated settlement like the Fulani. Almost, if not all of them practice
Islam. This easily integrates them with the Muslim Yorubas. Such a tie is possible

29
because of the excellent and tolerant relation from both tribes. Religion forms a
strong covalent bond between them. They too like the Fulani speaks Yoruba as a
second language. In case you can speak Hausa, use it to communicate with them in
the market and chances are that you will buy from them almost half of the original
price. They like it when a stranger speaks their language.

30
The Fulani settlement is marked distinctively
31
by their dome houses and exceptionally clean
surroundings
The rest are my eastern brothers. Actually, I’m not from the East as you already
know but they claim I’m their brother. Of course, you should not expect them to be
lacking in any part of the country if not world. You know their essence, business!
I’m sure you already know about their strong business acumen and how they drive
the Nigerian economy. They are very few yet they maintain a very strong bond. To
expand their coast here, everyone from South-South automatically becomes their
brother. Twice I’ve been scolded by them in different communities for not being
able to understand Igbo. When I argued that I wasn’t Igbo instead Ibibio they insisted
I was.

Let’s talk about the native Yorubas. Warm, happy, friendly, smiling, etc. are some
of the endless adjectives you will use to describe these tribe when you meet them.
In keeping with the tradition of respect and hospitality, you will meet many strangers
with a call of ‘Ekabo’ and young ones that will rush to get your luggage and lowering
their hands to the feet in respect. Some of the most common names here will give
you a clue on where they belong in the social structure or even their religion. Some
names are of Islamic origin and history while some that bear Western and biblical
names are more likely to be Christians. People do not joke with their titles so try as
much as possible to address people with their correct titles when situation warrants
you to do so. Omitting one’s title can be insulting since respect is the hallmark of a
true Yoruba culture. If you must make a mistake, let it be that you are giving
someone a higher ranking title instead of reducing it. People, especially children like
nicknames. They are skillful in carving out a nick from their original name. Don’t
be surprised if you meet a child today with a different name from the one they told
you yesterday.

The Yoruba are what they wear. Their dress ─ like food, art, etc. reveals a lot about
their heritage, values, norms, adaptation and history. Dressing also reveals their

32
religion. For example, from the knit cap worn by men to the veil worn by women
shows one is a staunch Muslim. It is not just a religious identity but their form of
worship shapes and define the dressing. For the men, the long clothes do not only
cover their bodies that Islam encourages but it also helps them when bowing for
prayer. But never mind, as a visitor, with the influence of Western style of dressing,
you have at your disposal a wide range of clothes and style to choose from at the
local boutiques and market. You don’t have to dress in a traditional galabia, agbada
or dashiki to fit in. You can combine comfort, style and taste when choosing what
to wear but at the same time do not dress unclad to avoid catcalls and hisses as you
walk down the streets. Let your environment define your wardrobe style and choices.
Sometimes you have to blend.

A couple of times, I have been the only one wearing shirt and tie in a gathering where
everyone else wears a traditional attire. But just as in conferring titles to people,
overdressing by your standards to an occasion is preferable to underdressing.

Some women here wear hijab, a head covering worn by some Muslim women to
conceal their hair and neck. It is the Islamic practice of dressing modestly in clothing.
Some are large scarfs pinned under the chin while others are long cloaks that covers
the head and face apart from eyes. Some will also adorn their hands and legs with
gloves and socks respectively. Reasons for wearing ranges from showing that one is
a devoted Muslim or trying to be inconspicuous to using it to cover an unfixed hair.

Hospitality takes several forms here. It ranges from free rides or drives to sending
children help you carry your load to your destination. The ultimate is inviting you
for a meal at home. Generosity towards others especially strangers is deeply
embedded in the culture of this part of the earth.

33
Just like every other rural area, there is only a fairly good general health care service
available here. Before you move, make sure you bring prescription medication with
you if you must need a specific medicine. If there is a specific brand you use, bring
them with you or be ready to take a chance of using another brand. You eat special
food? Take a good stock of whatever food you can’t do without. As at the time of
this writing, there were no Afang, Editan or Atama leafs in the region, and as such,
if you’re coming from South-South and you subscribe to these delicacies, have a
good dried stock of them. On the other hand, all the things you need to make a really
good stew are here. Almost all the homes have a motorized grinding machine for
tomatoes and pepper. If you are the stew kind then you will do fine. The most
effective way to live here is to adopt local eating trends and habits. “Eat like the Otu
people when in Otu.” A principle that I later found to be very cost effective and
stress-free.

You’re lucky if you return the same size after visiting here. Chances are that you
will need to change your clothes because they may not size you again. You will gain
weight. Offering food to guests is part of the hospitality too. Some eat little when
they are offered food so as not to show they are gluttons. If you belong to the other
set, the class I belong, then you will eat and drop. Some consider it a bad taste if you
leave food on the table. But fear of offending your host should not make you eat
yourself to death. Some of the native delicacies may not look or smell inviting but
since I like experimenting, I personally eat almost everything with four legs except
the dining table. Come with me let us travel back to the home of one of my hosts
when I first got here.

34
(An evening in a Yoruba home)

Sunday, November 24, 2019.

Are you interested in having a taste of a typical Yoruba meal? Then come along with
me on a “mental trip” for I was invited to dinner by a Yoruba family. It is considered
a great honor to be invited to someone’s home. Having prior knowledge of kids in
the family, let’s stop by to pick up a small gift for them. Normally, the Yorubas do
not always require a gift in return for doing favors but while growing up as a kid, I
always expected visitors to hand me little gifts whenever I run out to welcome them.
I expected “little gifts” so that mum won’t be interested. Packets of Sopetie chin-
chin would be appropriate so you do not have to worry about wrapping paper and
ribbon.

The kids all ran to the gate to welcome me. Since they were told about my coming
they knew I was at the gate when they heard a knock. There were shoes neatly
arranged at the doorstep but they insisted that I shouldn’t worry about removing my
shoes. Anyway, that is a normal gesture of welcome for some people. But please do
not give in to their plea of going in without offing your footwear when invited inside
the house.

I stepped into an enclosed passageway. Several rooms open onto it. My host showed
me the room to enter. Some of the old houses here were not constructed in a way
that you first step into the parlor. The room is a special one, there are alcoves with
several heirlooms. There is a miniature talking drum inside one of the alcoves. My
host later told me the family was notable for playing talking drums and that it is even
reflected in their family name. Few minutes later, she came in to announce that
dinner will shortly be ready but on the dinner table she dropped a fruit cocktail. One
is considered inhospitable if they let the cup of the person sitting next to be empty.

35
The appetizer got us at the table filled and we wondered if there will be space for the
dinner but rejecting it would be disastrous according to her.

Finally the meal, or should I say banquet was ready. It took some minutes to arrange
the food on the table. The food is placed on a colorful tablecloth. It is a special kind
of table linen with several prints of tableware on it. One can’t help but to wonder if
food is a work of art here. The appeal it brings to the eyes can force you to eat the
food even if the flavor isn’t appealing to your palate. The bouquet of black morsels
in a white lacquered old tray is one of the favorites of the Yorubas ─ Amala. Each
piece is a carefully molded lump of paste made from yam. The yam is peeled, washed
and chopped into pieces to hasten drying. There is a platform made from bamboo in
almost all typical Yoruba homes used for drying the chopped yam. When completely
dried they are called elubo. The dried pieces will be taken to the mill for grinding
into a very fine flour, the flour is mixed with water and turned consistently. The
paste formed will be placed on the fire for it to be well cooked.

Another meal placed in front of us was boiled local rice. The rice is artfully arranged
in the tray in a crescent shape. The other gibbous part of the tray is used for a red hot
sauce made from chilies, red pepper and tomatoes. Visible inside the sauce is a
broiled fish with the head and the caudal fin intact. The rice is only for the brave
ones because of the hot spicy sauce or gourmets that are lovers of peppers or their
taste buds are used to hot spices from Yoruba kitchens.

“I am only skimming the surface, if you want to know how to cook these delicacies
come back to marry from here,” our hostess urged me. She insisted we start eating
because the food tastes better while still hot. “Don’t worry about the pepper, we
don’t add much pepper to the food we serve our guests.” The sauce was so hot that
it could induce hallucination. It was one of the spiciest food I have ever tasted. It is
for the brave hearts and strong stomachs. Although a rice freak, I had to let it go. I
36
resorted to the amala. “Here we do not eat with cutleries,” she warned. I didn’t have
any problem with that since I’m not from the orient so I was already used to eating
with my hands. Moreover, soups taste better when eaten with bare hands. You hear
and smell the food while it is being prepared. While eating, you touch and feel, see
and taste it so you employ all the five basic senses when eating without cutleries.

You want to eat? A special technique must be devised because of the type of soup
being served. Dip your finger either into the soup or any clean water so that the
amala won’t stick to your hand. Make sure all fingers are lubricated by the oil in the
soup and use your thumb, forefinger and middle finger to pull off an ample piece of
the amala, you don’t need to be told the size that will pass through your gullet. Create
a dimple on the morsel so as to trap the soup on it, a skill we used as kids to trap
periwinkles from soup. Do not let your finger go higher than your wrist so that the
soup won’t run down to your elbow. Trying to get a soup stain off your shirt in
someone’s house could be a new experience.

The mealtime was more than just a time to eat. Added to the meal was a good
conversation and warm association with my host and her family. It was a delightful
event that satisfied more than just my hunger for food but also my curiosity to really
get to know the culture, customs, language and people of the land.

If you are lucky enough to be invited for a meal, after the meal they may apologize
to you for the food not suiting your taste but that is not a literal apology but an
enquiry to know if you enjoyed the food. Even if you didn’t like the food, courtesy
demands that you compliment your host that it was delicious. They will be delighted
if you compliment them. The meal I was offered was fit for a royalty if not a palace.
I can boldly say that with the intention of my host and the effort that was put in place
to provide the meal makes it the best meal I’ve ever consumed anywhere in the

37
country so far. The Yorubas are always keen about you and what you think of them,
it will please them if you take an interest in them and in learning their language.

It was time for me to take my leave. When I got to the porch to wear my shoes, I
realized they were dust off and turned around in a position for me to just put my legs
and leave. How thoughtful and loving of them that after making me feel truly
welcomed, they still dust off my shoes for me. The whole family came out to tell me
Odaro and the kids that welcomed me in followed me to see me off.

Aren’t you glad that you came along with me for the visit? Well, if your mouth is
already watery, why not come for a reality tourism? Don’t forget to call or send a
thank you note to your host the next day. They like thanking people even after weeks
or months.

One can explore the culture, custom and cuisine of Otu in one place. Such a perfect
place is the market called Towobowo meaning “dip your hand into money.” It is an
open air market, the major and biggest market in Otu. Street vendors abound
everywhere and they sell almost everything. An observer sarcastically said that one
can stay at home to buy everything from hawkers apart from airplane and
motorcycle, yet a visit to the market is necessary if you want to have varieties to
choose from. A visit to the market will give you an insight into the people and their
lives. The market sells everything imaginable from the short stout brooms used in
cooking ewedu soup to imported mp3 players. Assorted bottles of aphrodisiacs vie
for space with dried toads (toad makes a good stew). Here in the market, time is not
at a premium, the market won’t close until nightfall and they start greeting each other
ekurole then ekale. Come with me let’s tour the market.

38
 Cross section of the market

Towobowo

Here, one can observe the people, taste their food and also buy wares. Sellers will
do their utmost to communicate with you no matter the language you speak. The

39
quickest way to get to the market no matter your location is to use a motorcycle. It
is not a daily market but a periodic market sold after every four days unlike those in
other regions that are opened after every seven days. On each market day, bikers are
almost at every street corner to offer rides to and from the market. You can arrange
for a ride depending on your location from the market. The market is a far cry from
the air conditioned shopping malls in the city of Ibadan. The market operate outdoors
under the hot sun of the savannah region so “Don’t forget your bumbershoot!”
Hordes of people, children not excluded, carry goods on their heads. Several other
goods are placed on wooden countertops while the rest are on the floor. Most times,
the tables are laden with mostly imported goods while the locally produced are on
the floor. Chances are that as a stranger you may not recognize all the produce
because some of them are local favorites that are consumed by the locals. Some
shades are so colorful with red peppers and tomatoes, they glisten in the afternoon
sun. Yams and cassava are the main tubers produced here and some of them are
already processed into flour or elubo. Most shades belongs to the Hausas and they
stand out not just because of their typical garments but also from the products they
sell.

A little farther from the main market are freshly butchered meat mostly beef. The
butchers, brandishing their knives with dexterity will invite you to buy from them.
Live goats and chickens are also on sale for those that prefer to do their own
butchering. A marketplace without a place to eat is unthinkable. There are no fixed
food houses but mobile food vendors. Most dishes are strange and as such you need
someone to explain to you what they are made of before you consider buying.
Getting food into your shopping bag and onto your table is a matter of utmost
concern. So how safe is your food-supply system? You do not have to worry about
where your next meal is coming from, just take a walk or ride to Towobowo and dip

40
your hand into your wallet to purchase from the source the foodstuff that will last
you for the next four days.

Dining out

Food is sold and oftentimes prepared amid the street jumble. Since most eateries are
open air, possibility of seeing a restaurant with a disinfected shiny interior is very
slim like you have in the cities. Candidly, when you arrive, you need to discard your
already perceived notion about how meals should be prepared. The lack of this
notwithstanding, there is a bright side to the meals prepared here. Unlike the way it
is done in other parts of the country, vegetables are not picked green and kept for
days to ripe. Here, they are picked at the peak of ripeness. One can see them
displayed in shops as you walk down the streets and they look so inviting.

When I first arrived here, I was advised not to drink the local water nor eat the food
on the street. If your stay is going to be prolonged and you plan to follow the
standards of hygiene you came with then you have to confine yourself into a five
star hotel room (there was not even a one star hotel in the area at the time of this
writing). I didn’t heed the warning so I spent my first few months in the hospital
more than my room at home. Maybe it was a normal adjustment in my body system
due to change of environment. At some point, my body’s immune system adapted
to the local food and even water. It is almost impossible to maintain foreign practices
you came with or you get the little germs and dirt get used to your system. If you
can’t do the latter then you just have to follow the precautions without a doubt. I
tried but could not continue for a long time. It wasn’t long before I forgot to brush
my teeth with sachet water, later it was boiled water and finally water from an open

41
well! The well I was running away from previously. Seriously, I didn’t die of the
diarrhea I was afraid of.

Wells are part of the cultural landscape of the town. You don’t need to be a student
of hydrology to detest the water drawn from some of these wells. Naturally, the water
table here is shallow and most times wells are at close proximity pit latrines with
water inside too. Motorized boreholes are available too but since they are not evenly
distributed and with the problem of sporadic supply of electricity, one must still
resort to these wells and some manually pumped taps. If you depend on the latter,
you will leave Otu with muscles as if you hit the gym every day.

Festivals

There are several festivals here and most of them last for days. If it requires curfew,
announcement will be made prior to the commencement of the festival. There is
something surreal about watching a troop of talking drummers suspend their drums
from a wide strap across the left shoulder and tucked under the left arm in their
different colorful attires. Shaped like an hourglass, the drums have heads at each
ends. They are made of thin tanned skin of an animal and both ends are joined by
thongs of leather. Drummers use curved drumsticks shaped like a crane’s bill and
are skillful in producing notes with range of an octave and imitating the rise and fall
of the human voice. According to one of the drummers, drumming is a complete task
that requires years of study and some families are notable for being good drummers.
Several kinds of messages can be transmitted using the drums. With the widespread
use of telephone and internet, one can doubt if the talking drums will survive the
next century. For several years they have they have served as the telegraph and
telephone lines for transmitting messages even across long distances not only in Otu

42
but in the whole Yoruba land. But lately, it seems folks prefer picking up a telephone
to the talking drum because the former is more convenient. If you visit this part of
the Yoruba land, make sure you listen to the talking drum although you may not
understand the language it speaks because chances are that the talking drums may
soon stop talking with the current trends.

Facial marks

Talking drum is an identity of the Yoruba culture but there is a better form of identity
here. Facial marks are a form of identity cards. Some people wear this permanent
identity card that can’t be “lost” or forged. This makes them stand out from other
ethnic groups. The marks are of different varieties and one skillful in reading them
can tell one’s ethnic group, town or even trace the ancestry of the wearer to a family.
From vertical marks on the cheeks like quotation marks to three horizontal marks,
one can tell who is from which Yoruba state or the town of the Alafin. Before coming
here, I never paid attention to the different shapes and styles of the facial marks. I
can recall a classmate with vertical tribal marks that were stained with a native dye.
We kids then unknowingly used to make fun of him by saying he has lines of latitude
on his face. I can now imagine the ridicule he must have suffered from us because
of relocating to where tribal marks were considered a taboo out of ignorance. As a
kid, I considered tribal marks to be associated with Spiritism not knowing they were
for ethnic identification. Now, I am feeling guilty of prejudice, stereotyping and
hasty generalization. Whenever I lounge about with the Yorubas, I notice that what
was seen as a reproach in my neighborhood becomes a pride when one wears it
among his clansmen. Many of the wearers deeply resent the marks. I know a lady
with narrow cuts on her cheeks that spends time doing heavy makeup to cover the
marks before leaving the house. Some applaud their parents for not giving them the
43
marks while some wear it with pride, considering it an insignia of patriotism. Most
people who wear the marks had no choice because they were marked at birth but
they now have a choice of whether they will do same to their children. Lately, it
appears the pendulum began to swing the other way. It seems this insignia is fading
little by little and in few years to come their identity cards will no longer be on their
faces and inside the wallets but only the latter.

Tourism.

I try so hard to think of something that can compete with sightseeing and tourism. I
believe that there are some that can let go a night at a five star hotel for ecotourism.
The enormous number of tourist sights here boggles the mind. Unfortunately, at the
time of compiling this report, a museum construction was still underway although I
don’t anticipate entering it soon. If you are not a fan of antiquities then you have to
beam your searchlight of tourism on other parts of Oyo state. Sometimes you might
not need a tour guide depending on where you are going and how comfortable you
are with Yoruba language. Many sites are good for just a day trip.

44
 Ado Awaye Suspended Lake

Ado Awaye Suspended Lake

When you hear of tourist towns which cities do you always think of? I am sure Paris,
Cairo, Athens and the like won’t miss from your list. What if you include Oyo State?
It will be odd on the list right? But if Oyo State is pitted against ecotourism, can it
pass the examination? Join me now on an adventurous and exhilarating trip to the
peak of Ado-Awaye mountain.

Far beyond all I read and the countless pictures I saw online, there it stood,
majestically, in all its splendor, in the aureole of the midday sun. I watched
spellbound, the massive rock in front of me. Click went my camera for the first time.

45
I know hundreds of other cameras have clicked to capture this mountain as excited
people from many parts of the world ended their trip at this spot — the base of the
mountain. We are at Ado Awaye Mountain — the mountain that houses the only
suspended lake in Africa and the second in the whole world. Situated at the
geographical center of Ado Awaye, about 20km away from Iseyin LGA of Oyo state.
I was finally seeing firsthand this awe-inspiring handiwork of God.

Why the hype and what’s so spectacular about it? One may groan. Of course, the
immense size of the rocky mountain is spectacular in itself, but the suspended lake
at the zenith of the mountain is what bring sighs and gasps to sightseers’ lips.
“Ejooor, mbok it’s worth the hype biko” because there are only two suspended lakes
in the whole world. The Colorado suspended lake in the United States and the
Second is right here in Oyo state.

I didn’t really get the historical aspect of the lake and the mysterious mountain
because my tour guide could not flow well in English and as such I will deliberately
omit that for fear of making Freudian slips. If you intend to visit, insist on an English
speaking tour guide unless you’re good in Yoruba. Those tour guides possess a body
of ecological knowledge that rivals the libraries of modern science.

I got an irrepressible urge to examine the intriguing phenomenon at close quarters.

Ado, unlike the Obudu Mountain Resort I visited in 2017 is a must climb. The latter
will give you the opportunity to view from the air via Cable car, or circumnavigate
by a motorcar.

360 defunct steps to step on without a rail attached for people to grasp as they climb.
Many unwary or overconfident climbers ignore to get a stick, inviting disaster. So
get a rod or stick and hold on to it. It might mean your life! And you cannot risk that
during rainy season unless otherwise you are going on a suicide mission not a tour.

46
I commenced with a flourish of enthusiasm that couldn’t last up to five minutes but
soon settled down to a slow, steady, uphill plod. There was need for periodic pauses.
But there were awe-inspiring views down there to compensate for these rest breaks.
Clicks went my camera for the second time as I take in the view that stretches
steadily wider as we ascend!

The brown roofs of Ado Awaye community viewed from my lens resembled that
captured with a canon drone. On up we go, ever upward. The steepest part is now
over, and there are no more steps. From here on, the climb is more gradual, you can
drop your staff, the tour guide ordered me. We wound among obstacles, up and down
smaller curves in the rock face and there were more rewarding scenes. At this point,
there are constant changes of contour, with a sculptured appearance of fantastic
designs. At this point you can engrave your signature or name, indicating that you
have made it to the top.

The lake has healing power according to my guide. It looks greenish dirty but when
you fetch it into jar it looks sparkling white. I had to refill my water bottle from the
lake. That reminds me, do not ever carry a 25cl water bottle. It will finish during the
first five minutes of climb. You will have to pursue “mountain goats” to fetch from
the same pool the goats were drinking to drink. Don’t carry handkerchief, it won’t
be able to soak the water coming from your sweat pores, a face towel is better. You
don’t need to be warned not to dive into the lake. The first two people that dived into
the water to measure the depth didn’t come out even at the time of writing this report.
Maybe they will come back someday but for over a decade now they have not
surfaced.

Do you want to climb to the summit of a mountain where you can see the city of
Ibadan and the country of Benin Republic simultaneously and other jaw-dropping
views? Then go visit Ado Awaye. A Russian proverb says, “Better to see something
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 48
I refilled my water bottle from
the lake
once with your own eyes than to hear about it a hundred times.” When you make it
to the top, try to fill yourself with a sense of how frail our existence as humans could
be when compared to the sturdier nature. The truth is that no word or picture can
really describe the tourist center.

Despite the enchanting hiking, there is a depressing picture. The United Nations
Environment Program sponsored the International Year of Mountains 2002. To
emphasize mankind’s dependence on the mountains, organizers coined the phrase
“We Are All Mountain People.” They aimed to increase awareness of the problems
facing the world’s mountains and seek solutions to protect them. The accelerating
rate of pollution and environmental degradation at Ado-Awaye mountain is a sign
that the battle to protect the mountain strongholds is not being won.

The Ado-Awaye mountain should be developed into a naturalist’s paradise and an

idyllic holiday destination by the ministry of culture and tourism in the state. With
that, it can be upgraded into a UNESCO World Heritage site and a popular tourist
destination in Oyo state and the country at large.

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 The brown roofs of Ado-Awaye

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Before you leave Otu, why not take a trip to Ado-Awaye? It will be exciting and
joyous to be so close to another wonder of our Creator’s endless creations. It will be
physically tiring but mentally and emotionally stimulating. You will see why He is
called the Rock of Ages.

Religion

On Sundays, people gather in a cathedral with a crucifix affixed to the wall. Some
wear rosary and they flock en masse to say prayers to Mary. A priest adorned with
a black garb will be there to direct them. There are chapels and churches also. If you
take a walk down the street on a Sunday, parishioners will pass you by with their
best cloths to congregate so as to hear sermons and sing hymns. Their clergyman
can easily be spotted wearing black suit with a special clerical collar to distinguish
him from the laity class.

On Fridays, you can hear the voices of muezzins. They summon the faithful to the
Jumat prayer. The call is made through horn loudspeakers. Even if visitors with non-
Arabic ear happens to live near the mosque for a long period of time, at some point
they will get to know the call off by heart due to its entrancing rhyming plagal
cadence. The call is repetitive throughout the year and as such, one can stay without
an alarm clock. They congregate at central mosque to hear Jumat lecture and offer
prayers.

Worldwide, varieties of religions have caused disunity and several wars have
undertones of religious instigations. Can different religions exist for years without
trivial disunity? Come let’s examine Otu. Before coming here, I used to think that
the North was synonymous to Islam. There are several devoted Muslims of Yoruba
origin here in the West too. As for the Christians, Sunday is the main day for

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religious activities but as for the Muslim, religious activities are scheduled for every
day of the week. Down south-south where few or no prayer rooms or mosques exist
at all, devout can be seen on a prayer mat on a leveled surface praying while facing
the appropriate direction. Here, most public buildings and even business offices have
a prayer room or mosque. It is not uncommon to see the driver of a public transport
pull over at a filling station not to refuel his car but to pray. The religious landscape
is shaped by many houses with horn speakers and crescent and star logo at the roof
top. Please remember that I’m a geographer and not an Islamic scholar so pardon me
if I make mistakes, these are as a result of mere observations.

Religion is never far from the people’s lips here. You can easily tell someone is a
Muslim by hearing phrases like Al-Hamdulillah and Inshallah meaning “praise be
to Allah” and “if Allah wills,” respectively. As for the Christians, a visitor may
likely say, “may peace be unto this house” and when leaving they will be told “may
God go with you.”

The inroad march of Islam and Christianity has failed to completely root out
indigenous superstitious activities and traditional religion in the region. This isn’t
far from the norm, such exists everywhere in the other parts of the world. Certain
parts of the market do a roaring trade in potions and other questionable materials.
You need to be careful especially at T-junctions so as not to step on broken bottles
of olive oil that people break at night. Some people wear amulets and others call on
pantheons to protect them. I was once advised by a kid not to walk in the road by
exactly 1pm because wicked spirits wreak havoc by the said time. At another
instance, I was stung by scorpion and was taken to get a vaccine, I was advised to
cut the stinger off the scorpion and swallow the whole body with the pincers.
According to those that attested to the claim, the act won’t only protect from future
stings but will also open your eyes to see scorpions even while asleep and that it

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needs to be renewed every year. Although I didn’t try or doubt the antidote, I do not
endorse it in anyway. You should carefully evaluate your options before making a
personal decision about any medication

If you want to study the unifying ability of religion then Otu is the best place to
choose as your study area. I’ve overheard Christians speak in defense of the Muslims
and vice-versa. Although there are some Christians and Muslim schools, admission
is not based on religious affiliation and employment is not segregated. I’ve attended
events that a Christian will say the opening prayer and will be closed by a Muslim.
I have a Christian friend teaching in a Muslim school. The unity here defies all
segregations I’ve ever known and seen.

Commerce

No matter where you find yourself, if you have a cultural eye you will find out that
each region has its own traditional art form peculiar to the place. Paintings, wood
carvings and even stained glasses can be part of the picture you’ll see. Most items
today have stickers and stamps which are mass-produced on them and this shows
that the items with the stickers were mass produced too. In a world of mass produced
items on the shelves of shops, can we still find items that are handcrafted with the
initials of the craftsmen on it instead of stickers? Come with me let’s go see a pottery
factory. Although an agrarian city, some inhabitants make a living through other
means. What captured my attention most was smelting and pottery. Children learn
the art of pot making at tender age. Aluminum and other special metals are fired in
dome-shaped kilns of burning coal at extreme high temperature. Some pots are
customized with the owner’s name on it while some have local trademark that

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identifies the producer of the pot. Hoes and other farming implements are also made
here. This does not only enrich the potters and scavengers but also promotes the rich
cultural heritage of the ancient town. Pollution is also checked because it encourages
recycling of metals. A visit to the potter at work is a sight to behold if not for the
scorching heat emanating from the furnace.

The smelter’s kiln shapes like a tapered chimney. There is a fire pit below and an air
blower is connected to it. A draft regulates the air up its chimney and heat is
circulated before passing out at the top. Your visit to a potter at work will leave you
with a lasting impression of an indigenous yet remarkable engineering feat. This art
has been passed on from generation to generation and I believe it will continue as
long as there is need for farming implements and urge to eat cooked food. I met a
fellow at the factory who said he learned the art from his father who in turn was
taught by his own father. When I saw his own children working besides him there
was no need to ask him if he was going to pass it to his own children.

Tons of old tins and plastics are scrapped yearly. To environmentalists, these creates
a serious environmental problem. Although the concept of recycling rubber tires is
not new, using tires to make sole of shoes was new to me when I first saw it. I saw
it first in Otu. “Old tires from trucks are very resilient,” said one of the cobblers.
Although they use very crude methods, soles of shoes made from these tires are very
rugged. They shoes and slippers made from the tires are perfect since the terrain here
needs a sole that can withstand wear and tear. Almost “everything” used in Otu are
made in Otu. These cobblers should be commended for helping reduce the enormous
mountains of trash of used tires that accumulates on the planet.

There are traditional crafts according to long standing local traditions and most
importantly – everyday needs. Most of them are no longer in used but are still kept
alive for cultural and regional heritage. Among the handicrafts includes Basket
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weaving. Basket making serves utilitarian purpose of preserving and transporting
farm produce to the markets, mainly tomatoes and pepper.

Apart from basket making, weaving is another distinctive and impeccable craft.
Several designs are made from wool, silk, cotton, etc. Among the best known
weavings is the asoke. Similar to weaving is embroidery. Variety of embroidery
types are used to prettify agbadas, dashiki, tablecloths, blouses, etc. There are several
designs and colors of adire printed cloths with symbols of Yoruba origin.

Basket weaving serves utilitarian purpose

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Farming communities

Since most of the town is made up of lush forest and farmland, the local government
is completely agrarian and it is depicted on her logo. They practice mechanized
farming except for the few that subscribes to manual labor from farm laborers. These
laborers work from sunrise to sunset. You can see them walking in echelon to the
farms with their hoe on their shoulders in the early morning hours.

The hoe and machete on

the logo of the local
government shows it is
completely agrarian.

Safety.

Otu is a safe haven to live and work. It is an oasis to farmers and a vacation home to
tourists. Strangers can walk alone in the early hours of the morning without fear of
muggers. Crimes are generally rare. A colleague once said that the police station
here is a waste, a claim I can attest to. Throughout my stay, I’ve heard no gunshots

56
apart from those from the hunters, I’ve seen no Tanks apart from Massey Ferguson
and John Deere Tractors going to the farms. I’ve heard no police sirens apart from
the sound of talking drums. If you leave your door open you should be afraid of a
goat entering the house instead of a thief. However, it is wise to avoid isolated areas
especially at night maybe not because of thugs or assailants but because of wild
animals and reptiles. I’ve been stung twice by a scorpion in Otu.

Walking

Although you can enjoy other forms of exercise, only few thoroughfares are perfect
for leisurely strolls or brisk walk especially in the dark. Not because of muggers or
landmines but because of something more dangerous – potholes! When walking or
jogging, watch out for potholes, meandering motorcycles, pointed irons from slabs
at foot level and mad people at eye level and things you wouldn’t want to have stuck
at the soles of your shoe. The terrain is rocky and as such, shoes with rugged soles
are perfect else be ready to change your soles twice a year if you always trek.

Economic sector

There is a defunct tobacco industry that was built and managed by the whites.
Currently, the town can still boast of few local craft industries. There are few steel
fabricating industries that produces processing machineries for farm produce.
Financial services represents a key sector that boost the economy of the town. Since
there are no banks, people can easily make transactions at kiosks that provide Point
of Sale services (POS). Agricultural production is an important part of Itesiwaju
identity. A trip to the suburbs reveals farming settlements, orchards, grazing and
pastureland. The greater percentage of the local government area is made up of
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farmland. The main crops are varieties of corn, rice, sugarcane, pepper, cassava,
yam, tomatoes, etc. The community is almost, if not sufficient in food production.
Together with agriculture, forestry also helps in boosting the economy of the town.
The region is covered with forest and wood. There are several sawmills that are into
wood processing. The forest is mainly made of Teak trees and few stands of
Baobab—the Upside-Down Tree. Other economic species like cashew and oil palm
are negligible. After years of exploitation, efforts are being made to reforest the
region. There is a botanical conservation farm just after the defunct tobacco factory
to help protect endangered species of flora. Products produced here are exported to
other countries via Lagos port and such products includes Timber, charcoal, cashew
nuts, etc.

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Most of the town is made up of
lush forest of teak trees

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 Do’s and Don’ts

Do you want to sidestep some cultural snags and other hitches while running around
Otu? Check out some of these hints.

Do’s

 Arrive exactly on or before time when attending social events.

 Keep telling people ‘thank you’ for things they did for you even after several
days.
 Always bow or tilt your head when greeting an older person irrespective of
their gender.
 Do treat royalty with the greatest respect, sometimes you have to prostrate.
The lower the head, the more respect is shown.
 Do learn to speak Yoruba even with blunders, it impresses the Yorubas to no
end. It will also help you to enjoy every aspect of your stay here.
 Do carry your phone charger wherever you go.

Don’ts

 Do not be surprise to see goats everywhere even at the table next to you in a
restaurant.
 Don’t renounce personal cultural values just to fit in to the Yoruba milieu.
Always remember that variety is the spice of life.
 Don’t be surprise if a woman should step down on a motorcycle and ask you
to sit in the middle if you are a man. It happened to me several times.

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 Do not drink concoctions or brands of liquor you do not know. Please do not
tempt your fate.
 Do not be surprise if someone is able to identify you by name even in the dark.
Everyone knows everyone else here.
 Don’t expect going straight into business, make enquires before venturing
because there are so many trade unions and associations here.
 Don’t assume that the too many curse words people use means hostility, they
are very friendly and hardly will they abuse a stranger.
 Do not be surprised if kids call you daddy even when you don’t have a child,
I later discovered it is a form of respect.
 Don’t wait for your phone battery to completely drain before charging it if
there is power supply, you just can’t be sure the number of days it will take
for power to be restored when taken.

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 Epilogue

Thursday, June 4, 2020.

Finally it was time. Little by little, my days in Otu were numbered. It is always very
difficult to leave a place where strong love grows. Hurt welled up in my eyes as I
packed my luggage out of my apartment. For decades, centuries and millennia to
come, I will forever cherish these memories. As I look back into these fascinating
months, I wouldn’t change them for anything. I consider myself lucky to have
walked this part of the earth. I turned the key to lock myself out of the gate. The
Micra driver was honking for me to come hop into the car. As he zoomed off, my
heart was shattered into fragments more than the grains of sand on the beach. Slowly,
we were drifting away from the town like a boat leaving the shore. The view began
fading but the memories didn’t. At this point, I had to face reality, the pains of
leaving a new found family behind and that of sitting in a car for over 16 hours. Both
combined were not as painful compared to viewing the wedding pictures of the
fiancée I left at home with a pleasant farewell. I mean the Sandra I mentioned at the
onset later got married and I was inside the car viewing her wedding pictures on a
popular wedding blog. I hardly travel without my headphones, it is always my saving
grace since I hardly talk to other passengers. I turned on the locks on my headphones
and was listening to Dirty Money’s “Last Train to Paris” album or should I say last
bus trip to Uyo? The track ‘coming home’ was a replica of my situation. I was not
just going home but was also asking the same rhetorical question “is a house really
a home when your loved one is gone?”

The End
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