Olufioye, The First Lord Of Gbongan Poem by Timothy Faboade

Many an unharped name had gone
Into the running wind and air
Of time, sometimes with a snare
When the bearer of it was done
In this wide weary, whirling world
Though his deeds be big and broad,
Of him not heard was one word
Even from his surviving child or ward.

Millions of fames of the Black Race
Not bisected in the history Book
After centuries of unique phase
Possess a vague and fading look
And later, not able to survive time
In the modern memory mildly die
Because they are not sublimed.
So, away into the Space the memories fly.

Unlike there in the foreign lands
Very far, very far to our reach
Various trained and taught hands
With memories the Books bleach,
Hence, hold that the forgotten names
Here never for once in this world be
And that mere lies were the fames
And the said accompanying glee.

Muse! Remember your favour to Homer,
Whose hands moulded the Greeks
And their democratic Athenian creeks
The book-painting makes them formal,
What of Virgil and how the ill-fortune Troy
Like dead trees mysteriously fell
And became in the Greek hands a toy
After the hexed Paris-Helen love knell.

Muse, let these beautiful, witty bards
As I embark on this voyage of memory
Be my ever reliable and trusted guards
To paint for the world the true story
Of my race, my soaring clan, tribe,
Which grows from the old Oyo Empire,
And its ways of life till now we imbibe
And erect amazingly our own empire.

No Prince wouldn't desire to climb
The throne, and have on his head
The coveted crown when the clime
Of his king-father passed, and weld
His bossom to the sacred stool
Won majorly by blood, and often war
With the blood-thirsty, deadly tools
And, then, perchance, many more.

Olufioye was a valiant, an ambitious Prince
In the defunct, known Old Oyo Kingdom
Which during its prime knew no boredom.
A Kingdom trailed the birth of the Prince,
Who ceaselessly eyed the beaded crowns
That commanded honour and wealth
And so many servants with various clowns,
Who all helped the Crown's perfect health.

King Abiodun Adegoriolu ruled Oyo for years,
He had many Princes and Princesses
Who all grew up royally with cheers.
He was with no known weaknesses.
Olufioye, a royal, brave and happy son
Whose vision and mission transcended
The perfectest and strongest sun,
Hoped to soon the throne ascend.

After his father had gone to meet
The ancestors, Olufioye began his struggle
To inherit the priceless, golden seat
Known with cymbals, drums, lute and bugle.
So, he sought for with sacrifice grace
From all the cannonized, adored Gods
To give their respective, expensive nods
To him to rule and lead the Yoruba race.

He met with the Oyomesi, a Seven-man
Group that had unspeakable power over
The Choice of a King and the lucky man.
They said the Oracle would preside over
The kingship matter for peace to reign
In the ancient, art-rich, powerful town
That needed new blood in its vein
After the descension of the fallen Crown.

The epoch widely opened doors
For all the newest ancestor's children
And his numerous living kindred
To flex their muscles in the kingship war
And have their luck tried before
The holiest, most righteous Ifa Oracle
Which was always their decisions' shore
And their then chiefly meetings' table.

The flame of the over-heated tussle
Spiraled and soared to the silent sky
That watched the Princes' waxing muscles
Just like an innocent passerby.
It got fiery, became a furore and tense
As they were waiting for Ifa to talk
To their two-side broad sense.
Muse! Wouldn't he be later mocked?

If thumbs could be allowed to count,
If the teeming, praising voices
Fuming from all those many mouths
Could seal their lone out of the Princes choice,
Olufioye would have had his way
To ascend his father's best heritage
And put the burning power fire at stay
With his endowments and courage.

All the rituals and atonement the Gods took
From this noble Prince with ambition
Of writing his name in the Great Book
Of oral history on all the condition.
But nothing to show of the sweat
As his dreams hit the evil rock
That never saw him wearily wet,
And perhaps pitied the looming shock.

The Ifa Oracle spoke and all obeyed
The divine voice as the last order
That they couldn't lead them astray.
His mind crossed the last border,
Ran quickly out of the precious palace
Down to the far away, very far wood
Which needed him be more gallant.
Towards his newest goal he stood.

Sometimes human sight can be short
And desire very tiny and so small.
He thirsted for the already-built court
With a strong and muraled wall.
Yet he was dark to the written fate
With which he had been heavenly attached,
Though in the illusion he'd fair faith.
From this he could never be detached.

Leaving the stage when the page
Of tussle was still very, very high
Was cowardice during his unrecorded age,
But he should rather away shy,
Perharps there as it was then written
Lied that which was said belonged
To him, to be happy as a kitten,
Where round him million would throng.

In pieces he gathered his broken heart
And with the flowing stream of tears
A new life and dream he planned to start
Amidst fears of failure, far and near.
Once the old Kingdom failed to contain
His lofty quest, he sought somewhere else
To test his bravery and have a domain
And leave for other Princes the mess.

At one dawn he found his narrow path
With some who shared in his dreams,
In the forest of many abysmal parts
That could consume the dreams' gleams.
They all left without a fair farewell
Willing willingly a huge of what they earned
To the city where they'd never dwell
Again. A plougher shouldn't look back, they learned.

Let all Angels and host of holy Heaven
Lead this lone leader in the league of trees,
Oduduwa, Oranmiyan, provide a haven
To him. Obatala, slap these tall trees.
Oh! You gods! Rise for your blood,
Ogun, man him from the boisterous beasts
And the irked, howling sandy flood
That moved to have on them feasts.

They cleared the thicket with their feet
Which were naked and hardened
By the ferocious soil and its burning sheet.
Greatly, yet they were strongly gladdened,
And had on the rise their infallible hopes
To get soon to the perceived Promise Land
As they mounted hills, and descended slopes.
Olufioye, the Prince, led the united band.

The ancestors never reneged the vows
To among all Jerichos be his sheer shield,
And to the foes be a sacred cow
As to their divine orders he totally yield'd.
Unlike the God's people in the wilderness,
Unto his great Guards he didn't rebel
But honoured them more in the wilderness
And built in the Wood for them a new Babel.

His followers in the tangled thorny bush
Watered his high visions with cheers
Despite the torrent of hunger crushing
Their desert stomachs. That's a mere
Test of their bravery to form a new nation,
They held that holily to their breasts.
How tasking could a nation creation
Be. Failure shouldn't lead to jests!

With the beaded crown with which
He dreamed to rule his own state
Bond and wove together with no stitch,
Among the people to create a caste,
He rowed the howling wood and forest
Letting Ogun tear down the tall stands
Thick and thin, the forest's fortress
With his bare sharpest blady hands.

Muse! Why didn't Poets this journey weigh
Like Alighieri's, Ulysses', and the Greeks'?
Wasn't Olufioye brave enough, Muse, nay!
Names and fames they all rose to seek.
Then, loftier was this noble Prince's quest
Solely with all heavens as his beams
In the dark daring all evils with his vest
Of valiance and bravery as he could deem.

New days were born and later died,
The sun and moon had their own time,
All in the nature law fearfully abided.
In the forest for a complex clime
They were, walking, running, jumping
Sometimes dolorously when tired,
Many a hill, mountain, through climbing
They suppressed and without gun fired.

Many a sea, a river their legs kicked
Out of the way while touring the warful wild,
Though some of their drops they picked,
Especially those that looked somehow mild.
Like birds they made their rest on trees,
Valleys, hills roof, and sometimes their feet,
With a joy that they were (or would be) free
Or for then and later would make a feat.

He tarried at Songbe to have his luck
Perhaps he had had the promise of Heaven,
The Ifa's soothing mouth he knock',
To its words his ears he never deafened.
He offered goats, sheep and all nuts
To this Guard for a good, valid lead
That possessed no human-known buts.
That had been his only hallowed shield.

His men, wearied, famished, unburdened
Their heavy heads while Olufioye sought
The face of his Guard. He unladen
His soul with water he from a lake brought
As they all looked up to the Divine Oracle
Seeing smokes of their sacrifice in the skies
Spiraling, springing without an obstacle.
Hence, unlike Cain he had nothing to vie.

A league of livid dooms from his fount
The Guard, whose eyes knew all, foresaw
And his dreams soon hit a hexed mount.
Ah! Behold the winding, hovering war!
See your blood from Oyo horsing
Behind you with guns, arrows and bows,
Axes, swords, all out fire fiercely forcing.
Oh! Noblest of all Princes, leave now!

The holiest of all Yoruba Gods spoke
And without cloud warned of the dark,
That him from his slumber awoke.
Would Oyo still be another giant shark
In his surging stream of tortured life?
He helplessly in his closet bitterly wept
As he felt in his fair heart the knife
So sharp and venomous as it in crept.

Their eyes were fixed, glued to the door
Behind which their Aeneas was sobbing
Ruing how he had his pride on the floor,
His pierced heart was bleeding and throbbing
For he pitied with him all the wandering legs
Trembling and sweating in the sun and rain.
The two servants of Heaven he beg',
Muse, but he did this all in vain.

Muse! Who can be brave in the wind?
What tool can help fight a raging winter?
Can the two be subdued and bow to bind?
On the poor mind they gradually tinker
Rowing, whirling the embittered soul
With their crooked, contemptuous fists
Trampling on the soul with their soles
How can one rise to the peak in their mists?

'My dear people', facing the crowd
He said, 'In unity we've our strength',
His voice friendly though loud,
'And this has taken us to this length,
Without fear of beasts and wilds
We embark on this long journey
Having our hope so high and wide
And our tongues shall taste the honey.'

Cheered, they clapped for the motivator
After a chorus of Amen from their tongues
And their souls put on the elevator,
They in unison like Angels sang some songs.
All their sorrows at once evaporated,
And griefs resulting from pains vanished,
Their confidence couldn't be overrated,
His sobs and worries too he varnished.

'Ours in this quest isn't to relent
Though today we may be running about
And because of our mission be bent,
We will till we find our home scout
All the whole wide world,
Let's button all our poor shirt
And hearken to what Ifa has said
And our trabour won't be a mirth.

'Here isn't our dreamed abode yet,
There Ifa and our living-dead fathers
Have prepared for us. So, I say let
Us head our loads and move farther
Till we will get to our own land
Revealed to be full of honey and milk,
There, brothers, we'll sing as a band
In beautiful, shining, colourful silks.

'Oh! Mothers, Daughters and sisters
There our children'll like lily grow
Sisters won't be any more spinsters,
Our joy shall be great and as sun glows,
Pains today, heaps of gains tomorrow
If infallible our collective effort
Despite the torrent of tempest and sorrow
Oh! My blood! This isn't our resort.'

None treacherous then there seemed
Though behind was a mild uproar
Struggling to be amidst cheers deemed
His tongue in their labyrinths was sore:
They never though desired much,
Hence, saw as a waste the Prince's quest
And quite (you may say) ignoble as such
That clung as fern to palm tree to his breast.

The tempted minds were meekly soothed,
All wearied hearts in the camp appeased
Then, they prepared for the path, so smooth.
In Songbe they couldn't for a while cease
For the windful war of Oyo might come
While they're thinking of having a rest
In the peaceful village though some
Weapons were in their various vests.

Olufioye, Son of Peace, who's well bred
A finger against his father he'd not raise
Nor a gun point at Oyo though his bed
He had elsewhere, with little praise.
He became an Abraham being led by
His fair Fate and divine diety through
The thickets that were very high
And amidst hostile nature, too.

He led and was followed by his wives
Who mothered his various sons
With whom they spent their lives
In the storming rain and burning sun
All in the raven-dark, dire region,
Of a world where that light
Led to a hidden, but deep dungeon,
And dream died before the sight.

'My crown', she before Olufioye knelt
And the dovely mouth soothingly said
These in his heart he happily felt
'We're going as we're being led
And from this quest we won't cease
For waiting for us are the rewards
That King Aole can never seize
From us, our children and wards.'

Tejumade, the first wife of his,
Worshipped their Lord, Olupe's son,
Together with other women of his, viz
Abedide, Olatundun, and with fun
Oyinlola, Kofoworola, the symbols
Of beauty, virtue, charity and faithfulness
Sung with lute, drums and cymbals
To celebrate his uncommon braveness.

'Mothers of my many successors,
The greats behind my high quest
Of making myself a predecessor
Like my forefathers in their very best
Bestowed to us a name full of glory
In Oyo and Ile-Ife, my meek mind
Cheers though now we've a sour story
Because you my pillars I find.

'For our children, your children I build
My dreams without a known sleep,
And for others to form a great guild
With affection and harmony so deep.'
He said and each of them embraced
With eulogies, love and perfect praise
With which he often them lavishly laced
Like noble, humble men of the aged days.

All his followers who he with reverence
And honour in their best form treated
And among whom he planted no difference,
Bowed, and in their journey wouldn't retreat.
At once they left Songbe and the clan
Towards North in the wide wood
With a farewell from the friendly fans
That owned Songbe in a nice mood.

They rowed the green leafy creatures
Whose heights were a wordless threat,
Though the travellers by this feature
Were not quaked for they'd read,
No, assured by Ogun, God of iron,
Honesty, charity, nobility, and oath,
Whose rage can silence an irate lion,
That he would be their blade, an oath.

Sango, the fiery Lord whose look
Can pluck out one's heart from the cage,
Who holds the pillar of the cloth sky
And with his tongue he hooks
Thunders and lighting, symbols of rage,
Helped seized the host of the sky
From descending on the Questing Team
Though implausible this may seem.

They got to Iwo when a new day broke
And the sun was igniting its power
In the horizon, when the town just woke
With spiraling smoke on short towers,
Goats were bleating, corks crowing
Little ones, stark naked, in ecstasy
Played with the nature, the crawlings
Were elated by their mothers' back delicacy.

Green Natures decorated by meek waters
Neat and clean finely added more
To the offer to the eyes without altars,
Colourful flies in millions had their shore
On the beauties of the alluring figures
Who gave the sights a sweet company
That added more to their vigorous,
The team's joy, Muse, should be many.

There Prince Olufioye was welcomed by
The King and chiefs, sons and slaves
Urging him not to later say a bye
For obvious was his undaunted bravery.
The crown from Oyo he in his hand bore
Announced his noble peaceful mission
And that he didn't emerge for any war
Nor come unlike others for a division.

'Dear King, ruler of this loyal nation,
All the Princes and Princesses, Chiefs
I with my small wandering nation
Salute you as we come though in brief
From Oyo through the buses we pass
Looking for a land to settle our long legs
And to rise to grace from the poor grass,
So, your Highness, a single route be beg.'

The crowned head on the high throne
Pleased with the Prince and his people
On whose foreheads greatness shone
And on them all he saw a new people,
Then with worthy wit released his reply
That portrayed friendliness and humility
Quite enough for them on to rely
As they did to the inherited divinity.

'Denying seeing an elephant is a lie
Even to that blood-y thing in the womb,
Talking to me, dear Prince, is the tie
That joins your father though in tomb
And me. That royal symbol says
A lot about you and your able dream
And I must not support you less
Now that your bright glory beams.

'Building a name takes a stream
Of pains mixed with boiling sweat,
But there will be joy when the cream
Comes and on the path is no death.
It's a pain-gain journey of life
That can at the later end either fend
The traveller within himself strife
Or all the sheer shames of life bend.'

Well said, for the King they bowed,
Then the bards' tongues rented the airs,
Rendering the eulogies of then and now
Moving all Iwo's bloods on their chairs.
'Iwo Olodu Oba Omo ateni gba ore',
They began to chorus in one voice
Their ancestral songs to the core,
Then, there was no foreign choice.

Before the travellere was a long table
Which carried Eko, Akara and other
Good things to devour, fresh, not stable,
Before they in their journey went further.
Their desert tongues got deliverance,
Their plaintive stomachs ceased the protests
And their inaudible, poor utterance.
They ate and drank as if in a contest.

Fresh palm tree blood and its glory:
White foam in neat, ancient calabash
Was gulped to end the tongues' story
After libation to the Gods to a crash
Avoid as the watery food flowed
Down to the grumbling fleshy tanks,
These they did till corks crowed
After which they said their thanks.

When all the village had gone to rest,
And the whole nature got their beds,
Some high they had their nests,
Towards a silent chamber Olufioye was led
By his Host, with a burning lamp.
Behind the King Olufioye slowly walked
Like an about-to-be-muttoned lamb.
There the two Lords nobly talked.


'Dear Prince', the Oluwo commenced,
When the two had got their seats
Facing each other: a sign he's reverenced,
'You're about to set a new feat
In this world of ours. You have come
Thus far, very far from to have a name,
Listen to my words and the gnome
And in the mission you'll have no shame.

'In the dreams there will be some storm
Raging and rocking the sheer sea
On which you travel, this is a norm,
Tempest comes before the glee,
And above all these, my son, rise
With your oar and mind strongly,
And not be drowned by their size
As this will be, my son, very wrong.

'Many a foetus dies before birth
And flowers before becoming fruit,
Yes, some see it as a bestial brute
My son, life itself, to me, is a mirth.
Stand still even if the wind howls
Let not the waxing waves shake you,
Pains, fears and tears may grow,
But your lofty dream will come through.'

The words watered his heart more,
He greeted the King once again,
A blood-father he took him for.
He began to talk but from the main
Which drove him out of the Empire
To a new land he did not know,
With a divine order not to retire
Nor in the journey down slow.

'My Lord, my journey isn't a tour
In the wilderness of tension and terror
Nor its end, sir, I pray to be sour
Or full or fear and furore or error.
I rose to wear my father's shoes
After he's gone to his ancestor.
All Princes jostled but only two
Had theirs resisted the compressor.

'In vain I sweated, struggled to win
The seat, all sacrifices, Father, were
Taken from me. Yet with no sin
Cowardly, my lot fell through on a mere
Soil. Tears became my only drink
And branded sorrow my daily bread
All my hopes, joy were on the brink
And my poor life on blood red

'My heavy heart heaved hairless wings
And flew to where I never know
Though to Akiriwaye I hope a king
Become when my poor fate glows.
Aole in the tussle, Father, was favoured,
And I had my hope hit the high rock
Even though a thousand clamoured
I be the next King without a mock.

'Being with Aole in Oyo is sacrilegious,
Sometimes amounts to a deadly treason.
Hence I have to be very courageous
To elsewhere have my saint season
With some in me who have beliefs
And to me show acquiesce and love
All which have been my reliefs
Even though the path is quite rough.'

His eyes loosed their full lakes,
Ah! A once happy Prince behold
Muse, these were not for empathy's shakes,
But the stream of his life to hold.
Leaving a Kingdom for a possible doom
In such a manner with no destination
Could perhaps make depression loom
Or integrity upon a valid evaluation.

'My son, if eye can tomorrow see',
The host began to reply, and said,
'Life would have been easy for you and me,
'If good and evil could be read,
Easily we would find our paths
Out of the numerous before us
And stop on our lives boring maths
Your present is better than what it was.

'I said this because plain are your goals
Almost secured despite the various odds
On that land you'll soon set your toes
For by your sides are all our Gods
Whose piety, shields cover your journey
So far among the acrid nature and wilds
Which are these days, Son, very many.
Forever in the land shall be your Guides.

'Distance can't stop a hen from reaching
Her eggs, a heart can't be away from his place:
These have been our forefathers' teaching
Taken though like laws as a grace.
From today on we sign a mutual accord
Sealed not by hand or blood, but truth,
And between us, Olufi, there be no discord,
And our sons and daughters shall like the fruit.'

He smiled, his rising joy knew no bound.
He bowed before the crown's beaded feet,
And beaded hands raised him from ground
Back to the brown oval oak seat.
In unity the two men's hands confluenced
With cheers beamed on their appearances:
They each other positively influenced
Even after the travellers' disappearance.

The new day arrived more brightly
The travellers slowly left their beds
Made of bamboo and somehow lightly
Their moved when to the palace led,
Where heavens through the host king
Rained blessings and abundance on
Them: he was one of the many links.
And happily, comradely they rode on.

Muse, so cheerful, charitable a giver
The king was. A load of raw fine gold,
The lion's old hides and canned liver
Neither to be, then and now, bought or sold,
A heap of clothes and royal beads,
And money were given to the Prince
To please some more immediate needs:
He had been foretold by Akiriwaye since.

They resumed their journey with a heart
Of reaching their destination much sooner
While looking up to their main part:
Akiriwaye on whose words to faster
Move because remaining was a few
Miles to hoist their folded flag
And make their name, fame new,
None anymore seemed to nag.

'Oh you Prince! Where this piece falls
Shall you build beautifully your first hall
Where your children, wives friends and all
Others shall gather upon your clarion call.'
On his departure this was foresaw
That that which them all were led
Would on his shoulder carefully craw
And thence lay for itself a lasting bed.

There where it fell should the nation
Rise like the morning sun in the east
As promised as a would a creation
Then, there they should have a feast,
Unto the Gods offer their appreciation
With rites, burning flesh and libation,
Call on all his father's father's father
And should not attempt to move farther.

Amidst the Philistine trees they found
The special mappy Piece missing
Hence, they were divinely bound
To there despite all the hissing,
Groaning, protesting even from his blood
That the wild wasn't meant for man
Because soon, they thought, a flood
Of animals might sweep away the clan.

How short could human mind be?
Just once threatened it forever frails
Oblivious of the not-far-coming glee.
It sees green light yet chooses fail
For once before it is ephemeral threat
Behind which lies the sought honey
On which it's placed its very best.
And so renders a waste the journey.

Their voices roared days and nights
Propelling him to their tune dance
Or else prepare for many fights
With no hope of giving him any chance.
Shaggy, impotent, and very weak
They held the land was. And never
Would they take it not being sleek
Or else they would denounce him forever.

Where could legs go without the head?
Or the diving fish without the sea,
Can the blind be without being led
Or the unvocal ones who can't see?
Can the clay question the moulder?
When it comes to games of wit
Can the younger challenge the older?
He was never shaken by it a bit.

After many blurred and blue moons
Still at the foresaid place in the wild
They began sickling the bountiful boons
With smiles that made them mild.
There in ten folds they apically grew,
Plants conceived, and bore sweet ones.
Then, there would be a need for a crew
To pilot the newest land as one.

Prince Olufioye became the first Lord
Steering the wheel and enormous affairs
Of Gbongan (shaggy land) with a board
Of chiefs taken and coronated with fair.
At the heart of the village was a Palace
Where the Prince-King led and ruled,
And rewarded gallantry and valiance.
With the old Oyo edicts they're glued.

(Narrated orally by Chief A. O. Faboade, a Prince)