The first Olu of Warri was Ogiame Ginuwa I, a fifteenth century Crown Prince of the Bini Empire. An Ifa oracle said Prince Ginuwa would never succeed his father, so Oba Olua sentenced the first sons of fifty to seventy Bini Chiefs to accompany his son on exile. Itsekiri metaphysics said they emerged from the Ologbo River in canoes that swam underwater.
Those were the stories that formed my bones.
One of my first memories of life was a four-to-five year old me playing inside the Foursquare Gospel Church in the Ekwedi-Itsekiri palace of the Olu of Warri. My maternal grandfather was translating the English sermon of our heavenly father into Itsekiri. He stood on the elevated platform with the preacher, in front of the congregation, but sitting behind them in the maroon-clad holy of holies was my royal father: Ogiame Atuwatse II.
Even at that age, I knew the hierarchy of life. My maternal grandfather had “given his life to Christ” only after I became conscious of my environment, after I’d sung the Itsekiri national anthem and paid homage to the King. Before my eventual Judeo-Christian brainwashing, I knew who was boss and I knew who I was. To remix Taiye Selasi: I wasn’t just a local of Warri, I was Itsekiri.
Itsekiri, a variation of that name, was a man who eased the passage of Ginuwa and his entourage into new land. Itsekiri was also a variation of “leaf” in Bini language. Warri was an Anglicised spelling of Iwerre. Iwerre was a Latin verbalisation of Aveiro.
Aveiro was the Portuguese name of the amalgamated lands and waters that formed the Itsekiri Kingdom in 1480. Joao Affonso d’Aviero was the first European envoy to the Bini Empire in 1486. I was amazed how the names of my bloodline evolved through time, not by accident but the deliberate will of man.
I was fascinated by the relationship between Ogiame Ginuwa I and Umalokun, the Itsekiri water deity. Unlike his Bini progenitors who were subject to the whims of gods, Ogiame was a God King.
The knowledge that my ancestors devised their own gods and rituals liberated my creativity. My mind was emancipated by the inspiration of Ogiame Irame, the third Olu of Warri, who banished three gods (Ibirikimo, Otueke, and Ike) and their worshippers from Ode Itsekiri, aka Big Warri, because of their incessant noisemaking.
In his dying years, Ogiame Atuwatse II sought to abrogate his Ogiame title and renounce his powers over divinity. Some blamed his western education and Christian faith but he wasn’t the first “Christian” Olu of Warri or university graduate to become Ogiame. In the sixteenth century, Prince Oyeomasan also known as Dom Domingos, studied Latin and Divinity at Santa Antao College and the University of Coimbra for eleven years and graduated in 1611 AD.
He was baptised Roman Catholic, became the ward of Filipe II of Portugal (also known as Philip III of Spain), married a Portuguese of noble blood and corresponded with Pope Urban VIII to send priests to Warri. After the death of his father, Dom Domingos became Atuwatse I, the seventh Olu of Warri. Like his father, his heirs and seven successive Itsekiri monarchs were confirmed Roman Catholics. Though they confessed the lordship of Jesus, Christianity was never a subject of state policy.
In 2014, Ogiame Atuwatse II, the nineteenth Olu of Warri, issued an edict against the singing of the Itsekiri national anthem, the rites of masquerades, the Ogiame title and other centuries-old practises. His submission of the crown to Christianity led to an Itsekiri rebellion that would have brought about the Second Interregnum.
The Interregnum (1848 – 1936) began when Olu Akengbuwa and two of his sons, Omatseye and Ejo, died in quick successions after they ignored the warning of a slain Ifa priest. Then the first Itsekiri politician and daughter of Olu Akengbuwa, Princess Udorolusan aka Iye, governed the kingdom with Machiavellian wits for the next three years.
She died when she sat on the chauvinistic chair of the Ogiame. From 1851 to 1895, the British colonial powers appointed Governors and Chief Nana Olumo reigned over the Warri Kingdom until he rebelled.
Then Dore Numa governed the Warri Kingdom and environs in a style reminiscent of the grand politics of Iye until his death in 1932. It wasn’t until the death of Dore, a signatory of the British amalgamation of the North and South Protectorates of Nigeria, that an heir of Olu Akengbuwa became Ogiame.
However, some loyal subjects such as the then Itsekiri Governor of Delta State reconciled Ogiame Atuwatse II to the desires of his Itsekiri nation. The Olu rescinded his edict and the Itsekiri protesters at the mouth of the Palace returned home.
As we celebrated that victory, I wondered how an Olu of Warri forgot his identity. Why the Ogiame of Itsekiri land, water and sky would wish to renounce his title? Why the Lord over death would reject the loyal lyrics of the Itsekiri anthem and the sung allegiance of his gods and subjects?
In September 2015, after twenty eight years on the throne, Ogiame Atuwatse II became history at the age of seventy. His successor has been named and has proceeded on Daniken—meaning “to hold with care”. After three lunar months, the Itsekiri nation would gather to sing their allegiance:
E E Ara Olorire
Olorire Afomaasin Olu R’omi
Ee Owa ene Ogie.
Ee Ara Olorire
Olorire Afomaasin Olu R’omi
Ee Owa ene Ogie.
Ira wo gba gba mi je
Mo ri gbeji were
Ira wee gba gba mi je
Mo ri guaragbuoro
Ee Ara Olorire
Olorire Afomasin Olu R’omi
Ee Ibaba Ogie
Ogiame! Suoo!
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Op-ed pieces and contributions are the opinions of the writers only and do not represent the opinions of Y!/YNaija
Amatesiro Dore is a 2009 alumnus of the Farafina Trust Creative Writing Workshop and 2015 Fellow of the Ebedi International Writers Residency.
He has been published in Kwani, Farafina, YNaija, The ScoopNG, Vanguard Newspaper, The Brittle Paper, Bakwa Magazine, The Kalahari Review, The Ofi Press; and forthcoming in Omenana and Chimurenga.
