Ogbanje: How Often Can They Reincarnate?
You can cry, plead, and charm all you want. However, an Ogbanje will keep coming and going
“Coming and going these several seasons,” begins the poem Abiku by renowned Nigerian poet, J. P Clark.
Abiku is a Yoruba word that can be translated as “predestined to death”. It is from (abi) “that which was born” and (iku) “death”. The melody and rhythm of the poem, have stayed with me for over fifteen years since I first heard it as a fresh-eyed literature student in my secondary school.
The poem didn’t sit with me because I was particularly fascinated with death but with a similar kind of Abiku, that we have in my culture — ọgbanje.
Ogbanje is the Igbo word for an evil spirit that keeps reincarnating. An Ogbanje, like the Abiku, is born as all humans are, but, they are destined to die.
In his poem, Nigerian Noble Prize Winner, Wole Soyinka, called Ogbanje, Wandering Child. Listen to this,
In vain your bangles cast
Charmed circles at my feet
I am Abiku, calling for the first
And repeated time
Calling for the first (An Ogbanje must come) and for the repeated time (continuously), no matter what you do (bangles cast and charmed circles). The job and joy of an Ogbanje is to cause hardship to the family and untold grief to his parents, particularly the mother.
The evil spirits are said to have stones called iyi-uwa, which they bury somewhere only they know about. The iyi-uwa is the Ogbanje’s excuse and permission, to return from the spirit world to the human world. They keep coming and going because no one finds these stones where they hide them.
Why?
Really, who knows? But when an Ogbanje is suspected, people speculate that the woman or the family is either being punished for something they did wrong (usually in secret for which they are now being openly punished) or that a mischievous ancestor has just decided to come and torment the family — for fun.
So when a woman suffers miscarriage repeatedly, an Ogbanje is suspected: Coming and going these several seasons.
Sickler children were also attributed to Ogbanje. Today, we understand sickle-cell anemia better but in the old days, they were Ogbanje too because of the endless hospital visits where doctors worked their best to keep the child alive — often futile.
When an Ogbanje is suspected, native doctors are brought in to appease the spirit and encourage them to stay.
Finding the evil spirits’ iyi-uwa is the job of an experienced native doctor who finds the stones and ensures the Ogbanje would never again plague the family with misfortune.
One of the signs of an Ogbanje is serrated lines that mark their face, back or other parts of their body. This is because, during rituals over a Sickler child, native doctors use razors, knives, or some other sharp objects to cut deep into the skin of the child.
We know the knife scars
Serrating down your back and front
Have you seen any older Africans bearing such markings on their body? Usually, it is made by a native doctor but hush…we are all Christian converts now so don’t pry too deeply.
Growing up, an Ogbanje used to be a big deal. These days, not so much. Science has brought a lot of information that past generations did not have.
My paternal grandfather was interested in science and medicine and converted to Christianity. My grandmother, his last wife of four, kept their marriage because she assured him that she would convert to Christianity for him. The man was many years older than her so once he was dead, my grandmother was back to the worship of our cultural gods.
As a child with a grandmother who had a big heart, was extroverted and, hopped from one shrine to the other for almost thirteen years, in her desire to get a male child (my father), her home was a hub for sorrowing infertile women and I got to hear a lot about Ogbanje.
Infertility remains a hot topic even today as many women have fertility issues. Many women also have miscarriages frequently. Infertility has a lot of underlying causes according to science but could some women’s infertility be because of an Ogbanje?
All an Ogbanje does is bring pain unfortunately which is why Clark’s piece ends with a plea for the mother’s pain:
Step in, step in, and stay
For her body is tired,
Tired, her milk going sour
You can cry, plead, and charm all you want. However, an Ogbanje will keep coming and going, just for fun or until you locate its trans-world pass: iyi-uwa.
But as real as the Ogbanje lore is to my people and many people swear this is more than a lore, they do not claim victory in this story.
Victory belongs to mothers — ever resilient; conquering Ogbanje after Ogbanje, to continue the human race.
Thank You For Reading.
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