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Language is more than words. It is the vessel of our culture, the carrier of our worldview, and the keeper of our history. Every word we speak is a piece of our identity. When we begin to abandon our own words for foreign or borrowed ones—especially when we already have the right word in our mother tongue—we slowly erase ourselves.In today’s Nigeria, it has become common to hear Yorùbá people adopt words from other ethnic groups, or worse, to translate their foods and traditions into English in ways that do not capture their essence. This may seem harmless, but it weakens the authenticity of Yorùbá culture and gradually diminishes our linguistic heritage. It is time to correct this trend and proudly reclaim our true words.A language should only borrow when there is no equivalent expression within its system. Yorùbá is one of the richest languages in Africa, with words for nearly every aspect of life. Borrowing words unnecessarily not only reduces our vocabulary, it also disrespects the ancestors who shaped the language. For example, it is not Omugwo (an Igbo word for postnatal care). The Yorùbá equivalent is Òlójójò Ọmọ. It is not Swallow (a poor English attempt to describe a food category). In Yorùbá, it is Okèlè. It is not Efo Ugu (a misapplied Igbo-English blend). In Yorùbá, it is Èfó Ìròkò. It is not Ogbono (a distorted rendering). The true Yorùbá is Obẹ Àpọn. It is not Beans cake. It is Akara. It is not Beans pudding or Moin-moin/Mai mai. It is Ólèlé or Mọ́imọ́i. It is not Pounded Yam. It is Ìyàn.Each of these words carries cultural meaning that cannot be captured by borrowed or translated terms. When we say Swallow instead of Okèlè, we reduce a deeply cultural category of food into a mere physical action. When we say Beans cake instead of Akara, we strip away the cultural memory, the street-corner traditions, the taste of home carried in that name. Language is memory. Language is heritage. Language is power. If we do not guard our words, we allow others to define us.The way forward is clear. Parents and elders must intentionally use the correct Yorùbá words at home. A child who grows up eating Ìyàn should not think of it as “pounded yam” but as Ìyàn. When friends or family use the wrong term, we must gently remind them of the proper Yorùbá word. Schools, cultural organizations, and even restaurants should proudly display the authentic Yorùbá names of foods and traditions. Influencers, writers, and broadcasters must avoid lazy translations and model linguistic pride.The survival of a people is tied to the survival of their language. To lose our words is to lose our world. This is not just about food names—it is about identity. Let us correct ourselves and correct others. Let us speak Yorùbá with pride. Let us say Okèlè, not Swallow. Let us say Akara, not Beans cake. Let us say Ìyàn, not Pounded Yam.This is more than grammar. It is cultural survival. It is heritage preservation. It is respect for who we are.A kì í jẹun ká gbàgbé orúkọ rẹ̀. (One does not eat and forget the name of the food.)

Okèlè, Not Swallow: Reclaiming the True Taste of Yorùbá Language

Aerial view of Farm scene at dawn at Humber Station Road, Caledon, Ontario, Canada

Every Yorùbá state should have an Oko Ifá (Ifá Farm) just as we have Igbo Ifá (Ifá Groves). The time has come for us to build structures that not only preserve our spirituality but also sustain it in a practical, economic, and communal way. Spirituality cannot thrive without material support, and our sacred practices deserve an organized system that provides the very things we need to keep them alive.The vision of Oko Ifá is simple but powerful. Wealthy Ifá and Òrìṣà priests, priestesses, and devoted practitioners can come together to acquire hectares of land across Yorùbá states. These farms would be dedicated to cultivating and nurturing the herbs, plants, and natural resources we use daily for ẹbọ (sacrifice), rituals, divination, healing, and spiritual balance. Instead of searching endlessly for materials in scattered markets or paying exorbitant prices to middlemen, practitioners would have a direct, reliable, and sacred source of supply.This model creates several benefits. First, it secures the availability of materials that are becoming increasingly scarce due to urbanization, deforestation, and neglect of indigenous farming. Second, it ensures that these materials are cultivated with spiritual consciousness, in alignment with the sacredness of Ifá and Òrìṣà practices. Third, it allows affordability—priests, priestesses, and devotees can access what they need at fair and reduced prices, keeping spirituality from becoming a burden.Beyond this, Oko Ifá can create a new dimension of community wealth and empowerment. Young Isese practitioners can find employment and training opportunities on these farms, learning not just the spiritual uses of plants but also agricultural skills that sustain life. It can become a model of eco-spiritual entrepreneurship, where our heritage directly feeds both our faith and our economy.Imagine every Yorùbá state having its own Oko Ifá—a sacred farm that serves as a living library of our plants, a marketplace of our ritual materials, and a sanctuary where tradition and livelihood meet. This is how we preserve Isese in a fast-changing world. This is how we take ownership of our spirituality in both prayer and practice.The establishment of Oko Ifá is not just a dream. It is a necessity. If we do not create it now, future generations may struggle to find the very materials that define our traditions. But if we act, we leave behind a structure that secures our faith, supports our people, and reminds the world that the Yorùbá spiritual heritage is not only alive but also self-sustaining.

Why Every Yorùbá State Needs an Oko Ifá

Digital Map of Africa Continent With Futuristic Circuit Design

The problem is not that Africans engage with things that are not of African origin. The real danger lies in overindulgence, when we place foreign creations above our own while neglecting or even dismissing what belongs to us. History has shown that Africa has always been a land of innovators, creators, and custodians of profound wisdom, yet in today’s world, we often find ourselves replacing our indigenous systems, knowledge, and creations with external imports until we no longer recognize our own power.Over time, it has become clear that we, as Africans, have not truly mastered the art of adapting and transforming what comes from others to suit our needs and elevate our culture. Other civilizations do this seamlessly. The Japanese absorbed technologies from the West but transformed them into uniquely Japanese systems that today dominate the global market. The Chinese studied global trade and finance, and then built parallel models that serve their national interests first. Africa, on the other hand, often consumes without transformation, imitates without innovation, and in the process brushes aside its own heritage.The truth is that we do not yet know how to tap from others and make it serve our benefit. Instead of using foreign tools as raw material to advance our originality, we elevate them into gods while our own creations gather dust. Nobody will prioritize us but us, and if Africans continue to rely heavily on what they did not create—whether in technology, finance, education, or culture—they will remain perpetual slaves under the global ladder. Ownership is power. Creation is sovereignty. To be dependent is to be weak; to be creators is to be free.Africa must wake up to its creative spirit and believe in its ability to invent, design, and innovate from its own worldview. We must learn from others without worshiping them, transforming external resources to serve our needs. We must invest in local creation, from digital technologies to cultural industries, so that future generations grow up using African-built tools, reading African-authored knowledge, and celebrating African-made innovations as the standard.The future of Africa depends on creation, not imitation. As long as we merely consume what others produce, we remain trapped in dependency. But once we rise to create what we need, in our own way and for our own people, we step into true freedom. The world respects creators, not imitators. For Africa to rise, we must stop brushing aside our indigenous systems, use them as our foundation, tap from global advancements wisely, and build a civilization where Africans no longer beg at the world’s table but sit as equal partners. Until then, the chains of dependency remain.

Creators or Slaves: The Choice Before Africa

Millennial finance consulting investing financial data displayed on a touchscreen interface, emphasizing the speed and accuracy required for effective investment planning.

The time has come to onboard Ìṣẹ̀ṣe youths into the vast world of technology and finance. This is not just about crypto and Web3, but about equipping them with knowledge of the entire digital and financial landscape—from blockchain to artificial intelligence, from global trading to digital entrepreneurship.The Ìṣẹ̀ṣe youth community, both at home and in the diaspora, is one of the largest and most vibrant cultural forces in the world. Yet many of them are still on the sidelines of the fast-moving digital revolution that is shaping the future of wealth, governance, and society. If we delay, they risk being left behind.Onboarding them fully means teaching from scratch—coding, cybersecurity, blockchain, investing, digital payments, personal finance, and even global market dynamics. It is about building a generation of innovators who can not only participate in but lead the evolution of finance and technology. It means positioning Ìṣẹ̀ṣe youths not just as consumers of technology, but as creators, developers, and owners of their own platforms, coins, apps, and companies.Imagine an Ìṣẹ̀ṣe youth who understands both the wisdom of their ancestral heritage and the science of digital finance; one who can sit in global boardrooms and still stand proudly in the sacred groves of Òrìṣà worship. That balance of tradition and innovation is what makes this mission urgent and unique.This is not just education—it is empowerment, liberation, and ownership. The future belongs to those who prepare for it, and the future of Ìṣẹ̀ṣe youths must be secured through tech and finance literacy at the highest level.Now is the time to act.

Onboarding Ìṣẹ̀ṣe Youths Fully Into Tech & Finance: A Call for Urgency

Statue of Lady Justice. Symbol of fair treatment under law

A renewed call has been made for the legal recognition of Isese Law across Yorùbá-speaking states in Nigeria. This call becomes increasingly important in light of recent events affecting indigenous religious practitioners and traditional institutions.The appeal highlights the urgent need for constitutional and governmental acknowledgment of indigenous religious systems—not just in words or symbolic celebration, but in formal legal frameworks that grant equal protection and rights to practitioners of the ancestral Yorùbá religion.Despite the increasing visibility of Isese practices and festivals, especially across Lagos, Oyo, Ogun, and Osun States, there remains a significant gap in legislative protection. There are no enforceable laws that ensure the rights of practitioners to practice freely, to maintain their sacred spaces, or to guarantee the traditional procedures during critical life transitions such as birth, marriage, and especially burial.A clear example of this systemic vulnerability was seen during the burial of the late Awujale of Ijebu, Oba Sikiru Kayode Adetona. Despite being a royal custodian of Yorùbá heritage and tradition, the burial rites were conducted under Islamic practices, sidelining core traditional protocols. This is not just an isolated incident but a symptom of the broader marginalization of indigenous religious frameworks under the influence of foreign religions and a lack of legal protection.If there had been a codified Isese Law, it would have safeguarded the burial rites of traditional rulers and prevented the distortion or override of indigenous customs. It would also grant Isese adherents recourse when their rights are violated or their sacred practices are suppressed.Legal recognition of Isese will also:1. Allow for the creation of traditional courts or councils in line with ancestral values2. Empower communities to reclaim and protect sacred lands, groves, and temples3. Prevent the destruction of shrines and desecration of symbols by fanatical groups4. Ensure the inclusion of Isese festivals and practices in state calendars with public holidays5. Grant traditional leaders and custodians legal power to enforce cultural protocols6. Protect Isese children in schools from religious discrimination7. Encourage cultural education, language preservation, and tourism that benefits the economyThere is no reason Isese Law cannot be part of the legal ecosystem in Nigeria. Just as Sharia law has received state-backed implementation in the North, Isese law can serve as the moral and spiritual compass of the South-West—rooted in ancestral wisdom, justice, and communal order.It is time the South-West houses of assembly, traditional councils, and religious leaders come together to design and push a bill that will enshrine Isese Law within the framework of the Nigerian Constitution—protecting not only the faith, but the identity and destiny of the Yorùbá people.This is not just a spiritual issue; it is a matter of cultural survival and legal justice.

Why Isese Law Must Be Recognized in the South-West: A Call for Legal Recognition and Protection of Indigenous Faiths

Tattoo artist holding a machine while working in a studio

In Yorùbáland, Tattoo Artists are known as "Olóòlà", a highly respected and culturally rooted profession that dates back centuries. The role of the Olóòlà goes far beyond body decoration — it is spiritual, medicinal, social, and symbolic. Let us explore why Olóòlà exist, their significance, and what they represent in Yorùbá culture.Who Is an Olóòlà?The Olóòlà is a traditional tattooist, scarification expert, and sometimes even a healer in Yorùbá society. They are skilled professionals who use specialized tools to engrave indelible marks onto the human body for various purposes. Traditionally, they also performed circumcisions, scarifications, and in some cases, assisted in body modifications used for identity, protection, and healing. Why Do We Have Olóòlà?1. Identity and LineageIn ancient Yorùbá society, tattoos or scarifications served as a mark of lineage, identifying one’s clan, tribe, or family. This was especially crucial during periods of war, migration, and slavery when people could be separated from their kin. Through the marks made by Olóòlà, families could **trace ancestry and reconnect.2. Rites of PassageThe Olóòlà played a central role in rites of passage, such as:1. Birth or naming ceremonies 2. Initiations into adulthood 3. Induction into spiritual societies (e.g., Ogboni, Egúngún, Òrìṣà traditions)These body marks signify growth, maturity, and the beginning of a new spiritual or social phase.3. Spiritual Protection and PowerSome marks made by the Olóòlà are infused with herbal medicines, chants, and incantations. These are believed to provide spiritual protection, strength, or attraction. A person marked by an Olóòlà might be shielded from evil forces, fortified with courage, or imbued with blessings from the Òrìṣà.4. Cultural AestheticsScarification and tattoos were also seen as beauty enhancers. In Yorùbá culture, symmetrical, well-crafted patterns on the face, arms, or abdomen could signify elegance, bravery, or social rank. This is part of the Yorùbá aesthetics of symmetry (ìtẹ́lọ́run) and balance.5. Healing and MedicineOlóòlà sometimes doubled as herbal healers (oníṣègùn). They could open the skin through scarification and rub in potent herbs, serving as a form of spiritual or physical healing— a practice still seen in traditional medicine today. The Spiritual and Social Significance of Olóòlà1. Custodians of tradition: The Olóòlà preserve ancient knowledge, working with priests, elders, and healers to perform sacred markings that embody ancestral wisdom.2. Respected profession: Though modern society may see tattoos differently, traditionally, being an Olóòlà is a role passed down through family lines or through sacred training.3. Bridge between worlds: The Olóòlà serves as a connector — between the body and spirit, the seen and the unseen, the individual and the community.Modern RelevanceToday, while body art has become more mainstream and aesthetic, many still seek tattoos and scarification for spiritual or ancestral reasons. A revival of traditional tattooing is occurring among young Africans and diaspora communities seeking to reconnect with their roots. Modern tattoo artists who embrace this sacred heritage are reawakening the legacy of the Olóòlà. The Olóòlà is not just a tattoo artist — they are spiritual engravers, cultural memory keepers, and ancestral healers. Through their skilled hands, Yorùbá identity, heritage, and spirituality are permanently inscribed onto the canvas of the human body. They remind us that the body is not just flesh, but a living scroll of destiny, lineage, and divine connection.

Tattoo Artists Are Known As (Olóòlà) In Yorùbáland

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The website is dedicated to spreading the ancient wisdom, teachings, and spiritual guidance of IFA, the sacred Yoruba religion and divination system. We aim to educate, inspire, and enlighten individuals seeking deeper knowledge of IFA.

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Blog

Okèlè, Not Swallow: Reclaiming the True Taste of Yorùbá L...

Why Every Yorùbá State Needs an Oko Ifá

Creators or Slaves: The Choice Before Africa

Onboarding Ìṣẹ̀ṣe Youths Fully Into Tech & Finance: A Cal...

Why Isese Law Must Be Recognized in the South-West: A Cal...

Tattoo Artists Are Known As (Olóòlà) In Yorùbáland