Olubu: Of gods, men and fate
At the heart of the fatalist tale is Olubu (the title character in the 67 page play) who is cursed by default from birth. Not many people know the truth about his paternity. One of the few who know is his supposed uncle, Tobi, who refuses to accept Olubu as his kin. Rumours persist as […]
At the heart of the fatalist tale is Olubu (the title character in the 67 page play) who is cursed by default from birth. Not many people know the truth about his paternity. One of the few who know is his supposed uncle, Tobi, who refuses to accept Olubu as his kin. Rumours persist as to the truth about the circumstance of his birth and this, unfortunately, causes the entire community to treat Olubu as a pariah.
Oblivious to the truth about his ignominious conception, Olubu, like every other young man, seeks to live a normal life and even dares to pursue love. But soon enough, his love interest, Omokun, rejects him because of the questions surrounding his ancestry. The situation was so bad that even drunks deride him.
But for some reason, Olubu did not think the matter serious enough to confront his mother, believing all this while that her late husband, Tade is his father. But when he is advised to consult a seer, he finally learns that his mother has questions to answer. And given a chance to redeem himself, his mother lies to him.
By then, the damage has been done. Tobi, Olubu’s supposed uncle, who knew for certain that Olubu was not his brother’s son has died in mysterious circumstances after persecuting the bastard. His death forces an inquest by the village authorities and finally the truth has to be told. Olubu was conceived amidst a series of crimes forced upon his mother by circumstances. The shame of the revelation results in a tragic ending.
Set in ancient days were gods reigned supreme, Aliagan’s play, while demonstrating the communal need for piety and identity, also demonstrates how merciless the gods are in condemning an innocent man to pay for a crime he knows nothing about.
Both Olubu and his mother, Obutun, are victims of the gods’ cruelty. That her son was conceived out of wedlock was not in the least her fault. But the gods nonetheless chose to curse her and the son as Olubu notes: “My fate, thus scripted by the gods and acted by men, has come to pass.”
Yes, he was condemned by the gods, it was the men that played the gods’ hands. It was the society that, through condemnation and name-calling, forced Olubu to engage his supposed uncle in a fight – which ironically he did to defend his honour, it was society that forced him to lose whatever chance of happiness he had with Omokun and it was the same society that cast him out when the truth was revealed.
Like the classic greek play, Oedipus Rex by Sophocles, or nearer home, Ola Rotimi’s The Gods are not to Blame, Olubu demonstrates the inevitability of fate. But unlike his fellow tragic hero, Oedipus (who killed his father and married his mother unknowingly) Olubu did not even have the fortune of being informed about his future. He bumbled through life in utter ignorance of the fate that awaits him due to the circumstances of his birth.
In this play, however, the most fundamental issue the author captures is the power of men’s perception on the psyche of individuals. Olubu did set out to live a normal life, but everyone else believed he was bad – everyone excluding his mother and his love interest, Omokun. His honour was constantly poked and he, like most honourable men would do, resorted to fighting to defend his honour. And when Omokun, growing increasingly tired by the controversy surrounding Olubu, urges him to disregard what people say about him saying, “We are what we call ourselves, not what people want us to be.” Olubu was already so damaged by the society that he sees no good in himself and responds thus: “No matter what you say, I am bad.”
Olubu is a play not short of drama and interesting characters, even Jogo the village drunk who is hopeless, homeless and faithless but manages to retain some pride in the fact that he exists – not unlike many nigerians. But the play could have used some improvements in editing. The lack of transition from scene to scene, perhaps deliberate, comes rather jarringly, sometimes forcing the reader to do a double take each time the action moves from one scene to another.
But regardless, Isiaka Aliagan with his play Olubu captures the law by which our fathers lived and demonstrates the emphasis they placed on identity and paternity. It is an interesting read for lovers of tradition and values in society.