HE DINES AND DIES

(A tale of Abóbakú, a Yoruba chief)

It’s a term I have always heard but I have never paid that much attention to, and so when Tope mentioned that she would be Abóbakú while roles were being assigned for a church drama, I became fascinated. I laughed at it like everyone else.

"This one is offering to be Abóbakú." The lady beside me said, "You want to die with the king? I pity you."

I don’t know if she said more or if it was just that, but it woke me, woke all my senses. Someone would be buried alive with a king? With his eyes open? She nodded, and that was the rude awakening. This was not the first time I had heard the word, but this time it was sparking a different reaction.

A few days before that, I saw a Yoruba movie where a man volunteered to be a young king’s Abóbakú, and surprisingly, the king died early, and that was when his dilemma began. It didn’t mean so much to me as I laughed it off with my siblings. The fact that he volunteered and began panicking after the king’s death made it funny.

A couple of days later, Oba Adeyemi Lamidi, the Alaafin of Oyo, died, and then it was on the news that the Abóbakú had fled for his life.

I was surprised. I didn't think it was still a tradition.

For my non-Yoruba readers, Abóbakú means "one who dies with the king." A better meaning would be “one who dines and dies with the king.” It’s an age-long Yoruba tradition, more of a chieftaincy title, where someone is assigned, could be voluntary or involuntary, to die with the king.

It was not exactly strange, but I didn't know much about it, so I decided to talk to people I knew would have answers.

Once upon a time, when a king died, it was believed he couldn’t go alone; he would need people to see him off, like a governor with his escort, to the afterlife, and to also serve him since he was a king in this life, he would also be a king in the afterlife, and so able-bodied men, quite a number of them, sometimes slaves, were buried alive with the king.

A popular story in my church is about a man whose family never had a man reach the age of forty. They would usually dream of seven able-bodied men carrying a coffin days before their death. This man had that dream before his fortieth birthday and rushed to a church where thorough deliverance was carried out, and it was revealed that his forefathers were kings who had practised this kind of ritual, and one of the men that would also be buried cursed the entire lineage that none of the men would cross forty.

I don't think this particular practice was limited to Yorubas alone but was a barbaric culture in Nigeria.

So in Yoruba land, an Abóbakú is chosen, always a man. The people I have talked to about this have various answers. Some believe you would be chosen (usually from a lineage of Abóbakús) and others believe you can decide to be one and that it was a position that so many people used to fight for.

Strange, right? I thought so too. Why would anyone fight to get into a death trap?

The Abóbakú during the reign of the Óbá (the king) would enjoy every benefit. By every benefit, I mean all that the king would enjoy and be entitled to. They would have houses, lands, women, and so much more at their disposal and were usually the closest to the king. They would even taste the Óbá’s food before he did. As long as the king lived, he was entitled to all of this, but after the king’s death, that was it. He would also die.

It was also a way of ensuring the king’s safety. The Abóbakú knew better than to be a part of a plot or to even plot against the Óbá because the death of the king would also mean his death. If one was lucky, he would be assigned to an Óbá that had a long life and if unlucky, a short-lived one, but one would enjoy life to the fullest. That was the part that caused the tussle for the post.

The Abóbakú culture is one of the barbaric cultures in Yoruba land and, according to my mum, is some kind of human sacrifice, even if some would argue.

I'm not here to condemn or approve of this culture, but to open your eyes to one of the many cultures in Yoruba land.

I hope you enjoyed reading this.

Love and Light.