Ayinla: A Timely Call to Duty, for the Reignition of our Cultural Heritage.

   

Ayinla: A Timely Call to Duty, for the Reignition of our Cultural Heritage.

Tunde Kelani, director. Àyìnlá. 2021. 1 hour, 58minutes. English and Yoruba, with English Subtitles. Netflix Production. 

[Like the Yoruba aphorism does have it; Owe l'ẹṣin ọrọ; bi ọrọ ba sọnu, owe la a fi nwa, which invariably and equivalently has its interpretation thus; Proverbs are apparatuses of words; when the word is missing, we utilize proverb for its search]; so has Ayinla, a documentary movie, (based on the story of Alhaji Ayinla Omowura Egunmogaji, the Apala musical legendary) taken us back to past events and life and death of the eponym, dated back to the mid-80s, and by extension, in the course of unfurling the storyline, our eyes are made wide naked to the Yoruba culture. We become culturally conscious; from the employment of proverbs to the in-depth inducement of fine use of languages as social-cultural tools. A lot of cultural endowments are brought to the fore—with more and more yearnings, as the play unfurls until it comes to resolution. Is it to say that Tunde Kelani decided to usurp his leisures to bring to our views the cultural aesthetics of Oduduwa's descendants? Although, of late, the Nollywood filmmakers, the likes of Tunde Kelani, Biyi Bandele, Kunle Afolayan, and Kemi Adetiba, among others—have been doing us proud and amazingly well in showcasing our cultural values to us Nigerians, both home and abroad (and extended to the Westerners); so this is not an exception. Because if we do not write our own story, who then does we expect to write it for us?

This, over time, I have always thought about what might become of us: of our culture; of our local languages; of our homemade cuisines; our religion and traditions: What will become of them? Will they just perish abruptly like infatuation?  Those there, have become my myriads of questions. And recent answers from the Nollywood industry have proved me mistaken. Hardly will you see a movie coming from the movie industry without entrenching itself in cultural affinity, especially in the Yoruba language—code switch or code mix, either of them. But then, Ayinla is a colossal project; richly soaked and immersed in the richness of Yoruba cultures and traditions—different from what we have been feeding our eyes of late; fit for a 21st-century generation that has long excommunicated from the cultural norms. Thus, some related works in past years that conveyed the center of discourse here include Efunsetan Aniwura (1982), Kosegbe (1995), Saworoide (1999), Oleku (1997), and Agogo Eewo (2002). Well, I would confess that it is an offshoot of global recognition. A way forward to smudge the image and legacy of Yoruba culture.

Proverbs, as earlier stated, are the apparatuses of words. In Ayinla, there are several occurrences where Yoruba proverbs are used transactionally and palatably well amongst friends, families, and enemies inclusive. Like Chinua Achebe put it thus in Things Fall Apart: “Proverb (it) is the palm oil with which words are eaten”; so is in Ayinla—a conversation, discussion, or dialogue never goes without the inclusion or induction of Yoruba aphorism.  It may behove you to know that proverbs have had their functions. Aside from being known popularly to be wise sayings, they are also made to be induced for different occasions, events, and situations that befit them, (i.e. different proverbs for different situations). In other words, different strokes for different folks. There are proverbs for diligence in one's work; there are proverbs for warnings against an impending doom; there are proverbs used to instigate hope during tough times; there are proverbs for revelations; there are some for the declaration of facts, and so on.  Take for instance, as induced in the movie: bawoni ọbọ ṣe ṣ'ori ti inaki o ṣe [literally meaning, we are all equals]; aṣọ ala  ro'wọ, jina s'elepo [when you're wearing white, keep away from the palm oil merchant]; ba o rẹni gbẹkẹle, a tẹra m'ọṣẹ ẹni [if there's no one to depend on, be diligent in your work]; ebi ki npa igun d'ọjọ alẹ [vultures never go hungry until night falls]; all these afore proverbs set to induce fact, warning or prophecy or revelation, diligence in one's work, fact, respectively. Although most proverbs in the documentary have the infusion of Egba dialect, it could be hard to deduce for someone who is a non-Yoruba or whose hoofs are not yet rooted in the earth of the Yoruba language.

Besides the employment of proverbs, there is also prominent use of “play-on-words/pun”, which is equivalent to ‘ifọrọwọrọ-dara’ in Yoruba parlance and scholarship. Below are the following use of play-on-words in Ayinla: Pala pala, ilu apala (which literary meaning; what a bunch of garbage!); Oniroyin abi oni irọyin? (A reporter or a peddler of lies?—this here is used as a touch of sarcasm in response to a reporter called Jaiye). Ayinla as well, unconsciously, predicts  what would lead to his hamartia or death when he is requesting the payment for their last outing from Bayewu, and the latter replies that he had used the token amount for his upkeep. With the subtle use of language, Ayinla captures and replies thus: “K'oma jẹ iku yin loma pami o” [I hope you don't KILL me with your problems]. It does occur too in one of his encounters with the traditional priest, where he predicts his downfall with the use of a proverb, thereby warning him thus: “Aṣọ ala r'ọwọ, jina s'elepo” [when you're wearing white, keep away from the palm oil merchant]. With these, they  prove the vitality, potency, and efficacy of the Yoruba language.

Extensively, the documentary also draws our attention to songs. Songs—aside from their primary purpose, entertainment—are also richly used as an effective device. They are used as a correctional tool; also to address societal issues; to incessantly keep people abreast of their social and cultural responsibilities, and to settle feuds between friends (or sometimes communities) at loggerheads. Like the Yoruba mantra would have it: Igbadun ṣubu l'ayọ [enjoyment intertwines with pleasures]; in Ayinla, it is ayẹyẹ ṣubu l'ẹkọ [entertainment interlocks with teaching/enlightenment], which this could be moral-like,  social-like, cultural-like, political-like, etcetera. Songs in Africa are an embodiment of our culture; more or less a daily routine in the primitive society. At work, we sing. At ceremonies, we sing. At celebrations, we sing; while we dine and wine with the celebrant[s]. At our worse and happy moments, we sing. Come what may, music has been our therapy before the advent of the colonialists in Africa. But in Ayinla, it is more of a mixture of modernity with culture, yet the essence of African songs never loses its significance in most of his music dispensation, and live performance. He relates them well with contemporary social-cultural issues. And this had been seen done by our forefathers [read the rise of Alarinjo dancing troupe], even before Ayinla came to the limelight. Most of the songs in Ayinla are composed to satirize and complain about the hills and haphazardness in his contemporary society. Some of the lyrical lines from the hero in Ayinla are quoted thus: 

“Paṣanga ranti ọjọ ọla;                                     Prostitutes, think about tomorrow

Paṣanga ranti ọjọ ọla                                       Prostitutes, think about tomorrow

O jẹ rori rẹ wo, kotun bọ                                  Think and repent

Awọn to dara ju ọ, kini won ni?                          Those better than you got nothing

Gbogbo Awọn to dara ju ẹ, kini wọn ni?                All who're better than you, what did they get?

Iwọ na a wọ latesti...”                                       You'll also wear the latest fashion...

This in the afore aims at admonishing those who sell their bodies in Ayinla, and he further preaches repentance to them to own the future. Below are other excerpts from his lyrics that exalt the exuberance of youthhood and womanhood, and subtly  the themes of deceit and civilization:

“Wọn pe ẹ ni Sisi, inu ẹ a dun                            They are calling you Sisi, and you are happy

O mọ ara Ẹko, O mọ ara Ẹgba?                          Don't you know Lagos men, Egba men?

Wa sọ ẹ di apẹrẹ ajaṣẹ, inu ẹ a dun...”                  Lady, watch out for them!

Another from Ayinla's album is he exalting  the benefit of a wife's obedience to her husband, as is known that Yoruba culture is rooted in patriarchal shuns the habit of gossipy and loquaciousness amongst womanhood. Check below:

“Iṣe ile niyo ru wọn deta                                  Their conduct at home will follow them outside

Iyawo oṣi, ẹlẹjọ wẹwẹ                                      Foolish and gossipy wife, I'm telling you

Mo wito, ki ẹ gbọran s'ọkọ yin lẹnu                       Listen to your husband

Iyawo, awigbọ yin ndẹ pọju                                Wife, you don't listen and do disobey

Ṣebi awọn Baba yin laya nle                              After all, your fathers have wives at home. 

While Ayinla is being interviewed by members of the press, he also answers one of the reporter's questions with songs. Check below for some of the poetic lines: 

“Ẹni r'obi simi, ibi a ba             Whoever thinks evil towards me, will see evil

Iya yin ni wọn ma jigbe                         It's your mother they'll kidnap

Kori fun wọn, ohun tẹba ro ko jẹ tiwon   As they think of me, so shall it be for them

Ẹgbọ pe wọn ji Olumọ Ẹgba ji laye?   Ever heard of anyone stealing Olumọ-Ẹgba in the world?

Ẹru ẹlẹru ni wọn gbe kari      They're carrying other people's affairs on their heads

Wa fa tiwọn lọwọ gẹgẹrẹ      While they neglect theirs in great jeopard

All this enclosed in the aforementioned is sung in response to a question from a reporter, which is asking if Ayinla was kidnapped. Instead of Ayinla responding in anger, he finds a better song fit for the question. In the song, he points out the theme of impossibility, and rebellion, among others. Beyond entertainment, to  Ayinla, music is his weapon, like the pen is to a writer or journalist. He fights the known and the unknown with it. Besides, he does use his song for the proposition of appreciation, as an extension of greetings, and also for self-eulogy.

Ultimately on this note, is the display and exhibition of Egungun (masquerade) which add beautiful color to the fabric of Yoruba culture, as is an essential part of the culture. Makes the documentary a whole lot. In Ayinla, lots of the villagers are seen holding canes in accompaniment to the ancestral god; they are in ecstasy, awe, the fullness of joy, and in one accord as this emphasizes the communal life of the Yoruba people. Even though Ayinla is a Muslim, he embraces the tradition and religion of his forefathers; (hence, from whence he earns the name Egunmogaji) he offers an offering to the ancestral god as a mode of acceptance, and exchange of divine blessing, abundance, success, protection, and provision. The ancestral god blesses his wife and wishes him well in his music career and future endeavors, (as is believe that the Egungun serves as an intermediary between the people on earth and Olodumare, God/god), although on the other hand, the wishes are ironies. Inclusively, is the inclusion of materials like damask, lace, and ofi, which all portray the aesthetic of the Yoruba culture.

Mojí Oṣó,

Ondo, Nigeria.

wizardmoji1@gmail.com

09039436649

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FELIX Ayodele Mojisoluwa [with the pseudonym Mojí Oṣó] is currently a student of English at OAU, Ondo Chapter. He's a poet, creative writer, & essayist . He's a philosopher, a mobile photographer, a melophile, also an aficionado of everything protruding the aestheticism of art and nature. He was the 2nd runner-up in the NASEL SOUTHWEST ESSAY COMPETITION, 2021. His poem[s] has featured in Xpressit anthology and are forthcoming in online journals. If you do not find him writing, he is busy surfing for good music on Boomplay to while away time. He writes from Ondo State. You can find him on Twitter and Instagram: @fmojisoluwa. Simply call, Moji Wizard/Oṣo.