By Yinka Orewi
When the late Awujale of Ijebu-Ode, Ọba Sikiru Kayode Adetona, was laid to rest according to Islamic rites, it was a solemn and respectful farewell to one of the longest-reigning monarchs in Yoruba history. But in the wake of his burial, a familiar debate has resurfaced—loud voices from within the camp of Yoruba traditionalists decrying the departure from ancestral customs.
To them, it is an affront to tradition that a Yoruba king—a custodian of culture—would be buried without full traditional rites. They argue that anyone not ready to submit wholly to Yoruba traditional religion should not ascend the royal throne in the first place.
It is a sentiment charged with emotion, identity, and history. But it also raises fundamental questions: What exactly is culture? Is it fixed in time? And is it truly indistinguishable from religion?
Let us, for the sake of argument, agree with the purists that culture and religion are inseparable twins. Even then, they must confront an uncomfortable truth: tradition itself has not remained unchanged.
The Ghosts of Abandoned Customs
Once upon a time, the death of a Yoruba Oba was not a solitary event. It marked the end of a reign and the beginning of a dark chapter for several others—namely, the Abobaku. This appointed individual was meant to die with the king, following him to the afterlife to continue his service. A chilling practice, immortalized in Professor Wole Soyinka’s play “Death and the King’s Horseman”, and now adapted into a Netflix movie.
But where are the Abobakus today?
They are gone, along with the gruesome tradition that bound them to a king’s fate. Modern Yoruba society has quietly retired this custom—not out of disrespect for heritage—but out of evolving moral consciousness.
It does not end there. History tells us that slaves were once buried alive with a king, believed to serve him in the spirit world. Likewise, male palace servants were often castrated to prevent them from defiling royal women. These practices, once considered essential elements of royal tradition, have been discarded—not by outsiders, but by Yoruba people themselves, who recognized the need to evolve.
If all these customs have been left behind, then the loud insistence that Obas must be buried according to traditional rites rings hollow. It is selective traditionalism, cherry-picking rituals that support a nostalgic narrative, while ignoring those too barbaric to defend.
Culture is Not a Museum Piece
Culture is not a fossil frozen in time. It is a living, breathing organism—dynamic, adaptive, and ever-evolving. To insist that a 21st-century king must observe the same practices as his 18th-century predecessor is to misunderstand the very essence of culture.
Facial tribal marks once distinguished families, towns, and clans. Today, even the most fervent defenders of tradition have quietly refused to inscribe them on their children. Is that not a break from tradition? Or is it merely a necessary evolution?
We must ask: Is tradition valuable because it is old—or because it still serves a meaningful purpose in a changing world?
Religion and Culture: Intertwined, Yet Distinct
Religion and culture often move hand in hand, but they are not one and the same. Culture is shaped by geography, history, and collective experience. Religion is a matter of faith, conviction, and divine submission.
A Yoruba Oba who is Muslim or Christian is not less Yoruba than one who practices Ifa. His faith is personal; his cultural identity is communal. We must allow room for both to co-exist without forcing one to cancel out the other.
Indeed, the very fact that many Yoruba Obas have been devout Muslims or Christians for generations—and yet continue to perform their cultural duties—shows that the Yoruba worldview is naturally pluralistic and tolerant.
The Real Threat to Culture
Ironically, the loudest voices claiming to defend Yoruba culture often fail to understand its deepest strengths: resilience, adaptability, and accommodation. By insisting on a rigid, unchanging version of tradition, they risk turning culture into a relic—something to be displayed, not lived.
True custodians of culture know that tradition must bend if it is to survive. It must make space for new realities without losing its soul.
Conclusion
Ọba Sikiru Adetona was a reformer, a man of deep intellect and personal conviction. That he was buried according to Islamic rites does not make him less Yoruba. It reflects the complexity of modern identity—a blend of heritage, belief, and personal choice.
Rather than argue over how kings are buried, let us reflect on how culture lives on in language, values, art, kinship, and storytelling. Let us celebrate the elasticity of Yoruba culture—its ability to honour the past without being enslaved by it.
For in truth, it is not the abandonment of rituals that kills a culture, but the refusal to let it grow.
By Yinka Orewi
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