IN 2023, I declined an invitation to give the 1st Coronation Anniversary Lecture of the late Olubadan (king) Lekan Balogun. It would have been the biggest and most colourful event I would have ever spoken at, but I would rather not give that lecture than betray my conscience.

For people not familiar with Ibadan chieftaincy system, here is the context: Essentially, new chiefs join the rank from the bottom of the ladder and are promoted through natural succession. At least 40 chiefs must die before you can become the king. Everyone wants to be king, but no one wants to die.

On the surface, the Ibadan system is a political institution, but when you look deep, it teaches the limits of ambition, the beauty of waithood, and honour of death. There is dignity dying while waiting for something that is honourable. Death doesn’t cancel the honour of waiting. If you die waiting for what is honourable, you are not a loser. Death doesn’t invalidate the honour of waiting for something honourable.

For purely political reasons, Governor Abiola Ajimobi, during the reign of Olubadan Saliu Adetunji in 2017, decided to mess with the system, turned the senior chiefs against one another, promoted some to “kingship” status, and blessed their self-validating crowns in a mass coronation ceremony—a spectacle of ignominy.

But one senior chief stood against this politically motivated attack on a beautiful tradition. Senator Rasheed Ladoja not only refused to take the baby kingship, he also took the state government to court. In 2022, there came the first test of Ajimobi’s new system, when Olubadan Saliu Adetunji died. A clear crisis emerged because, in reality, you can’t be a king before becoming a king. If the pre-Ajimobi status quo had been maintained, Ladoja was the rightful claimant to the throne because he didn’t accept the government kingship.

Instead of fighting dirty, Ladoja entered an agreement that his co-senior chiefs would stop parading themselves as kings. They all agreed. After Balogun became the king (in 2022), they reversed the status quo and began to reassert their government-kingship. It was a clear betrayal of trust. A classic example of the Layipo metaphor.

Still, Ladoja didn’t set Ibadan ablaze. He didn’t selfishly believe that his ambition was more important than the lives and property of innocent people who would suffer in the aftermath of violence. He would rather take their government kingship than cause violence. He waited. And waited and waited. And his time finally came. On September 26, Ladoja will be crowned as the 44th Olubadan of Ibadanland. Kabiyesi o!

I know some people would call me “arrogant” for declining a coronation anniversary lecture because I felt our elders shouldn’t have messed with a political arrangement that teaches young people about the virtues of patience. Some would even query — what does he think he knows about Ibadan politics and history? Yes, I don’t know much about Ibadan politics; thankfully, I know the best amala restaurant/buka in town!

Ladoja My Lover

So sad I’m a man

I would have married you

Adewolu oko mi (in Odolaye Aremu’s voice)

Oun to lo fe da

Lo ti da yi o!