Kiriji War Memorial

Attended a more unique "cultural" event in September. It was the Kiriji war anniversary celebration in Imesi-Ile. I happened to be there because that is my boss’s home town.

Until late 1800’s different Yoruba groups (towns/language groups/clans?) had continually fought against each other for land/power etc. The anniversary celebrates the "last" war between these different Yoruba groups before they’d had enough and decided not to fight so much any more.

After turning up and sitting down amongst the few hundred spectators I was once again called (though as usual, slightly embarrassed) to sit at the high table. No matter where I go here, for the simple fact that I errr… stand out in the crowd, people seem to think I am a person of some importance (which of course I am not) and want me to join the big boys (VIPs, traditional rulers etc.) up the front of any ceremony. So after some debate I joined the big boys at their high table for the official proceedings.

The man I was sitting next two I didn’t know but I actually saw his photo in a magazine the next day (by some bizarre co-incidence) and he was named there as the chief priest of Ifa. The others were various important Yoruba figures and traditional rulers. Each in turn gave his speech about something or the other (I had no idea mostly as it was in Yoruba). The one particularly animated bunch came in making a hell of a racket.

Seems these boys were carrying guns from the original war (or replicas) because they were almost as long as they were, and were those old kind were you had to pack the bullet/gunpowder down with a long stick thingy (don’t ask me I don’t know much about guns, let alone the names of the old-timey versions). They look fragile and like if you would fire them they would break apart. But that’s where looks were deceiving. For when they fired them, they sounded and felt much like canons going off. Anyway, these boys fired their guns in the air, made music and sang, the big boys gave them money and off they went.

This whole circus ended and everyone who had one, got in their cars and headed off to another part of town where a monument had been erected (deep into the bush of course so we had to get out and walk some way). After that they were supposed to head off to various other locations but we instead headed home.

I could have gone back the next day for a masquerade, but had already promised a work friend of a friend’s I would come to his daughter’s "freedom" celebration. For apprentices (e.g. this girl was an apprentice tailor/dress maker), when your supervisor decides you are good enough to go out on your own you have a kind of graduation celebration (despite the fact there is no graduation ceremony she was still wearing the gown and cap!). It was enjoyable enough as the father blew probably half a year’s salary on a party to feed random acquaintances such as myself. The only penance being that most of us were obliged to spray money on his daughter. This is something that happens at most similar celebrations (weddings, burials etc.) where the celebrants dance and everyone else comes up in turn to produce various sized notes of local currency (or American dollars if you want to show off!) and proceeds to stick them to the face of the dancer. Normally a friend will collect these notes for you into a plastic bag. The friend is also busy changing big notes from would-be sprayers into lots of little notes so it will seem like they are giving more. I also drank several litres of palm wine, no wonder I felt it was such an enjoyable event.