Among the Yoruba, an enduring proverb echoes through generations: “Ọmọ Ọ̀rúnmìlà kò lè sọnù” – the child of Ọ̀rúnmìlà can never be lost.
It is a declaration rooted not merely in folklore but in the vast treasury of Ifa, where countless verses uphold the conviction that the offspring of the sage who witnessed destiny can never wander beyond the reach of providence.
Yet, hidden within the same sacred corpus, lies a haunting paradox.
Ifa preserves the painful account of a time when the child of Ọ̀rúnmìlà was not only lost but, in a cruel twist of fate, was sacrificed in error. That tragedy became the watershed that ended the practice of human sacrifice in Yorubaland. So, whenever anyone hastily labels the Yoruba—or indeed the Black race—as practitioners of human sacrifice, this ancient narrative deserves to be told before judgment is passed.
In the days when myths breathed alongside men and the ant was said to tower above the elephant, there lived a woman whose greatest sorrow was barrenness. Year after year, she remained childless, becoming, in Yoruba expression, “obìnrin tó fi ọwọ́ ọ̀sùn nu ògiri gbígbẹ” – the woman who wiped her camwood-stained fingers on dry walls. Despair eventually led her to the doorstep of Ọ̀rúnmìlà. She desired nothing extravagant—only the privilege of motherhood before death claimed her.
The great sage, mindful of the kindness the woman had once shown him, cast the sacred divination. Ifa unveiled only two paths before her. She could remain childless and live a life of peace, for, after all, whether a woman bears children or not, there will always be hands to commit her body to the earth when her journey ends.
The second path promised motherhood, but at a devastating cost. She would conceive through a man endowed with profound wisdom, yet destiny decreed that the child would not survive to bury her mother. There was no third option. Heaven had spoken. Such is why Ifa is revered as Eleri Ìpín – the Witness of Destiny.
Without hesitation, the woman embraced motherhood, regardless of its bitter end. And in that age, there was no man whose wisdom eclipsed that of Ọ̀rúnmìlà himself. Their union blossomed into conception, and in due season, the woman brought forth a daughter whom they named Ọlọ́mọ.
The little girl grew under the roof of Ọ̀rúnmìlà, nurtured by both father and mother. Then, one mysterious day, mother and child vanished without a trace.
Ọ̀rúnmìlà searched relentlessly. The finest Babaláwos of the age consulted the Oracle, yet every divination returned the same immutable verdict: the prophecy pronounced at Ọlọ́mọ’s birth would surely be fulfilled. Time might delay destiny, but it could never defeat it.
Years later, calamity descended upon Otu Ife, the ancient cradle of humanity. Disorder engulfed the land, and the people sought divine counsel. Ifa demanded a human sacrifice. Yet Ọ̀rúnmìlà laid down an unbreakable injunction: the child of an initiate must never be offered upon the altar – “A kì í fi ọmọ ọ̀rẹ́ bo ọ̀rẹ́.” He therefore instructed the young men to venture beyond the town’s boundaries in search of a stranger suitable for the sacrifice.
After days of raiding a neighbouring settlement, they returned with a beautiful young woman captured as a slave. Without consulting Ifa to determine whether she was acceptable to the gods, they hurriedly offered her in sacrifice.
Heaven responded with ominous signs.
Alarmed, Ọ̀rúnmìlà once again sought the counsel of Ifa. The revelation shattered him. The young woman slain upon the altar was none other than Ọlọ́mọ—his long-lost daughter.
Overwhelmed by grief, the sage mourned not only the death of his child but the terrible consequences of human error. From the ashes of that tragedy emerged a decree that would forever alter Yoruba history: never again would human sacrifice be practised in Yorubaland.
To seal the covenant, Ọ̀rúnmìlà prepared a symbolic offering with iyerosun (divination powder) ikin mẹ́rìndínlógún (16 divination chains), roasted yam and seven wooden combs. Then he proclaimed another timeless ordinance: no father or mother whose child has gone missing should ever cease searching or speaking until that child is found.
From that solemn declaration sprang yet another enduring Yoruba saying: “Isu àtẹnumọ́rò kì í jóná” – the yam of one who never stops reminding others never gets burnt. As the sacrificial yam roasted, Ọ̀rúnmìlà repeatedly urged his apprentices to keep turning it. Their vigilance preserved the meal, just as persistence preserves hope.
That ancient injunction came rushing back to memory on the morning of Friday, May 15, 2026, when heartbreaking news emerged from Oríire Local Government Area of Oyo State. Armed bandits had invaded schools, abducting pupils and teachers. One teacher was reportedly killed during the attack, while another, Michael Oyedokun, was later gruesomely beheaded in captivity.
Shock rippled across Nigeria. Yorubaland descended into collective anguish. Mass abduction of schoolchildren was never considered one of the afflictions of Oduduwa’s homeland. Instinctively, the Yoruba remembered Ọ̀rúnmìlà’s timeless command: no parent must remain silent while a child is missing.
The cry for justice became deafening. From newspaper columns to radio studios, from community meetings to the bustling streets, voices rose in unison. Journalists, public affairs commentators, traditional leaders and ordinary citizens refused to let the story fade. The search for the missing children became a shared moral obligation.
So, the noise in the South-West was deafening. Virtually everyone was involved in the search for the missing children and their teachers. Columnists, opinion leaders and public affairs analysts did not sleep. Musical artistes and content creators including Simi, Baeyu Barbie among others, did not relent in their ardent cries for the release of the victims.
While Simi went to the studios to produce one of the most tear-inducing lyrics of our age, David Adeleke, popularly known as Davido seized the opportunity of a global audience to drum up the beat for a prompt release of the Oriire abductees. It was like there had never been a mass abduction of school children in Nigeria before the Oríire incident.
At the forefront stood Governor Seyi Makinde of Oyo State. Rather than embark on the familiar pilgrimage to Abuja in search of sympathy, he remained rooted in Oyo, directing efforts from the state where the tragedy occurred. He appeared to understand that leadership, in moments of crisis, is measured less by ceremony than by steadfast presence.
I don’t want to go into the politics of the abduction and the loud silence from the highest quarters over the issue. We would leave that for posterity to judge. Nevertheless, we must record it that the Oríire abduction, and the ‘rescue’ or ‘release’ of the victims, 56 days later, leaves an ugly indelible mark in the history of politics in Nigeria.
Governor Makinde himself noted that on Friday, July 10. While speaking in Bauchi State, he said that Nigerian politics, especially as it affects the opposition, “…is very toxic. It is in the darkest moments, I can say that to you.” Nothing can be far from the truth. We all can only hope, as the governor expressed that the day would break and Nigeria would experience “a new dawn…when “the sun will start rising again for Nigeria.”
It was in that Bauchi engagement that Governor Makinde made the most instructive statement about the Oríire abduction, when he submitted thus: “You need to situate things in proper perspective… The insecurity you mentioned happened two months ago, May 15. So, for several years, we didn’t witness anything like this in Oyo State. I declared to run for the presidency of Nigeria at 4 o’clock. And by 9 a.m. the following morning, the children were abducted.”
I said the “most instructive statement” because while the saga lasted, a lot of government apologists castigated those of us who insisted that looking for the pupils, rescuing them and bringing them back to their parents is the sole responsibility of President Bola Ahmed Tinubu, who is the Commander-in-Chief of the Armed Forces. We owe nobody any apology for that stance. The latest event over the matter has justified our stand on the issue.
And Makinde, again, hinted at that when he quipped further in Bauchi, that: “And it’s so unbelievable. When Chibok happened, it was the fault of President Jonathan. They went all over the world, asked Jonathan to bring back the children. But this happened, now and, it is the irresponsibility of the State Governor and the State Government.”
He enunciated this by stating that the appellation of ‘chief security officer’ given to any state governor is a huge joke. No governor, Makinde reiterated, has control over the Commissioner of Police, the Director of the Department of State Security (DSS) or the State Commandant of the Nigeria Security and Civil Defence Corps (NSCDC).
This is why it is heartwarming that President Tinubu rose to the occasion and hours after Makinde alluded to the coincidence of his declaration for the nation’s presidency and the abduction of the school pupils and teachers, the victims were ‘rescued!’ Nigeria is indeed the seventh wonder of the world!
My initial reaction to the development was: May Nigeria witness more of such ‘rescue operations.’
Irrespective of our political inclinations, we must all recognise the importance of the ‘rescue’ mission. And in doing that, credit must be given to President Tinubu for not allowing the Oríire incident to be another Chibok in the dark history of Nigeria. The initial un-statemanly posture of the President notwithstanding, he has, in my own estimation, done what is expected of him as a leader, a father and most importantly, a human being. Everything should not be about politics.
We must also praise the gallantry of the members of the various security agencies for making the ‘rescue’ happen with minimal casualty. We knew, right from day one, that given the right encouragement, members of our security architectures can do wonders. Our prayers therefore go to the family of Lieutenant Felix Adere Isaac, who paid the supreme price during the operation to bring back the captives. May his sacrifice never be in vain. And to those members of our Armed Forces and other Paramilitary agencies, who might have sustained any injury during the operation, we wish them the quickest recovery ever.
But more importantly too, we must also recognise and appreciate the ‘benevolence’ of the bandits who kept those children, among whom was a two-year-old child, in good condition for the 56 days they spent in the National Park forest, where we were told they were held captive!
I saw the video of the jubilant kids, the enthusiastic adults with sparkling attires and the immaculate hijab of the two girls among the victims, and my mind raced to Eda Oníyò Ekiti and the kidnap victims, who, when they were released after 65 days in captivity, could hardly stand up!
The picture of the 16-year-old Eda Oníyò female victim, who could not hold the bottle of Coca Cola given to her keeps playing in my head; while the video of the Oríire victims, mostly children, especially the four-year-old kid, jumping cheerfully, would not go away! To think that only nine days separated them from their Eda Oníyò Ekiti fellow victims shows that God works in diverse ways! May His name be praised for ever more (Amen)!
No doubt, only a benevolent bandit, only a compassionate terrorist, and only a loving-doting depraved mind would kidnap children, keep them for 56 days and still ensure that they all had nice haircuts, looked healthy and their clothes washed and, possibly, ironed, when ‘rescued’!
Their abductors, surely, must have been so generous to have provided the children with blankets to shield them all from the cold weather, during the rains! How we wished the felons responsible for the Eda Oníyò Ekiti incident were this compassionate. One day, our day shall surely break in Nigeria!
The greatest lesson from the entire saga is the urgent need for a restructured Nigeria. This is the message, methinks, Governor Makinde was trying to pass across, when he refused to rush to Abuja to brief the President about the incident.
It is high time we decentralised our security architecture. A situation like we had in Oríire should not require the office of the National Security Adviser (NSA), or the Presidency to coordinate the ‘rescue operation’. It is an assignment a state governor should be able to execute, clinically, without recourse to a President acting like the typical Captain John Good of Rider Haggard’s world! This, to me, is the correct definition of True Federalism!
This is why Governor AbdulRahman AbdulRazaq of Kwara State should borrow a leaf from Governor Makinde on the matter of the rescue of the 179 victims kidnapped in Woro, Kaiama Local Government Area of Kwara State, since February 3, 2026! It is obvious, with the Oríire incident, that being a member of the party in government at the centre does not solve any security issue.
Whatever it will take the Kwara State governor, he must ensure that those victims, who, by today, would have spent 168 days in captivity, are ‘rescued’ and reunited with their families. The situation in Kwara is totally unacceptable. Governor AbdulRahman AbdulRazaq must know that the delineation of Kwara as a Northern Nigerian state notwithstanding, majority of the people there share affinity with the Ọ̀rúnmìlà, who instructed, eons ago, that no parent, whose child is lost, should rest or stop talking about it, until such a child is found!
Finally, while we clap, loudly too, for President Tinubu over the ‘rescue’ of the Oriire pupils and teachers, he must know, like our elders say, that: Ó kù ni ìbon ún dún (a gun once loaded, can shoot multiple times). The President can only drink water now, but he cannot put the cup down yet, until every Nigerian in captivity from Woro in Kwara to the remotest village in Borno is released. This is the job he signed for; the security of every soul in Nigeria, their property and the territorial integrity of the entire nation. I am sure this is harder than the job of a firewood hewer!
