Lifestyle
Oloolu: The Most Feared Masquerade in Ibadan and Yorubaland (PHOTOS)
The Oloolu masquerade occupies a place of singular reverence in Yoruba cultural life, and nowhere is this more pronounced than in the city of Ibadan, where it is hailed as the father of all masquerades. Its origins, however, lie not in Ibadan itself but in the rugged hill town of Ogbagi-Akoko, present-day Ondo State. In the nineteenth century, when Ibadan stood as a formidable military power in Yorubaland, its warriors waged campaigns across vast territories, and among those who marched to battle was the famed Ayorinde Aje, a fearless fighter who fought alongside legendary Ibadan warlords such as Oderinlo, Ogunmola, Ogbori-Efon, and Ibikunle.
During one of these campaigns, the Ibadan forces came against Ogbagi-Akoko, whose most feared protector was not merely a man but a sacred war masquerade known as Oloolu. This figure was no ordinary festival spirit; in Ogbagi, Oloolu was regarded as a living force of war, feared for its supernatural might and invincibility in battle. Warrior after warrior shrank from confronting it, for none could match its power, until Ayorinde Aje stepped forward. In the clash that followed, Ayorinde subdued the bearer of Oloolu, stripped the masquerade of its sacred regalia, and took the custodian prisoner, a victory that would mark the beginning of Oloolu’s journey into Ibadan’s history.
With the war won, Ayorinde ordered that the sacred costume be carried back to Ibadan. The captured custodian was instructed to accompany it, and his wife was commanded to follow. The woman refused outright, and her defiance enraged Ayorinde, who in a moment of wrath beheaded her. He then ordered that her skull be fixed permanently upon the crown of Oloolu’s attire, a grim act that would seal the masquerade’s most enduring taboo. From that moment, women were forbidden to behold Oloolu in person, for the belief took root that any woman who gazed upon it would suffer grave spiritual consequences, her menstrual cycle disrupted, her health broken, or her life cut short. This prohibition has endured to the present day.
The name Oloolu itself, as preserved in the oral accounts of the Aje family (the hereditary custodians of the masquerade) derives from a warning uttered by the captured custodian when Ayorinde approached the shrine in Ogbagi where the regalia was kept. He cautioned the warrior that “o lu nkan,” meaning “you will put your life in peril,” if he came too close. Ayorinde heeded the warning but nevertheless ordered the regalia taken to Ibadan, along with its bearer and the skull of the executed woman.
When Oloolu first appeared in Ibadan, the city was in the grip of famine, sickness, and unrest. The chiefs and elders sought remedies without success until Ayorinde proposed that Oloolu be used in a ritual to appease the gods. The masquerade was brought out with offerings and sacrifices, and according to tradition, rain fell soon after, the famine eased, and peace returned. From that day, Oloolu was no longer merely a war trophy but a sacred presence in Ibadan’s spiritual life, invoked in times of need and celebrated as a bringer of blessings, fertility, and protection.
The Oloolu festival, held once each year in the month of July, is the single moment when this fearsome figure moves openly through the streets. Its appearance is shrouded in awe and strict ritual law. It is believed that the first person Oloolu sees on his initial outing each year will fall fatally ill unless swift and costly rites are performed. No other masquerade dares to share the streets with him; as preserved in oral accounts, in the reign of Olubadan Dada, an egungun known as Iponri-Iku attempted it and paid with his life after Oloolu challenged him to pick up a cowry imbued with mystical force. The challenger’s backbone snapped instantly, and he died before the day was done. Communities that have confronted Oloolu in defiance, such as the Opopo Yeosa district, are said to have suffered repeated bloodshed thereafter.
Physically, Oloolu’s appearance is unlike any other egungun. The costume forms a towering, elongated pyramid stitched from multicoloured cloth and netting, crowned with the bleached skull of the beheaded woman. The bearer never wears shoes, must abstain from marital relations for a full month before the festival, and, in the days before Oloolu emerges, all women must leave his household. He must not carry a child upon his shoulders during the festival period, nor bear any load upon his head.
As he moves through Ibadan accompanied by the deep, hypnotic rhythm of his drummers, the skull atop his crown sways with every step, a constant reminder of the story that gave birth to the most feared masquerade in the city’s history.
Though dreaded for his power to kill or curse, Oloolu is also revered as a source of good fortune. Those who serve him faithfully speak of children granted to the barren, businesses made prosperous, and lives protected from harm. Yet the respect he commands is inseparable from the fear he inspires, for in Ibadan’s cultural memory, Oloolu is both a divine benefactor and a reminder of the city’s warrior past, a living link to the time when Ibadan’s might was measured not only in the strength of its armies but in the sacred power it could command.
FOLLOW US ON:
The Funkees were among Nigeria’s leading Afro-funk innovators, blending highlife, funk, rock, and Afrobeat into a distinctive sound that resonated across Africa and the diaspora. Formed in the late 1960s, their story reflects both Nigeria’s post-civil war cultural rebirth and the wider global appetite for Afro-inspired music in the 1970s.
Origins and Formation (Late 1960s – Early 1970s)
Emerging in the aftermath of the Nigerian Civil War (1967–1970), The Funkees began as an army band created to entertain soldiers and communities recovering from conflict. Over time, they shed their military function and became a creative force, experimenting with funk, psychedelic rock, highlife, and the Afrobeat movement led by contemporaries such as Fela Kuti.
The founding members included Harry Mosco Agada (vocals/guitar), Chyke Madu (drums), and Jake Sollo (guitar). Deeply influenced by African rhythms and Western acts like James Brown, Jimi Hendrix, and Santana, they forged a new sound that embodied post-war Nigeria’s experimental spirit.
Breakthrough and Early Success (1973–1975)
The Funkees built a reputation through electrifying live shows in cultural hubs such as Enugu and Aba. Their bilingual performances—switching between English and Igbo—gave them mass appeal across regional and social divides.
In 1974, they released their debut album, Point of No Return. With its groovy bass lines, sharp guitar riffs, and tight percussion, the album established The Funkees as bold Afro-funk innovators. Its mix of infectious rhythms and social commentary made it a landmark in Nigeria’s 1970s music scene.
Peak Years and Relocation to the UK (1976–1978)
Their second album, Now I’m a Man (1976), marked the band’s peak in Nigeria. With more polished production, it solidified their status among the top Afro-funk groups of the decade.
That same year, the band relocated to London, joining a wave of African acts—including Osibisa and Fela Kuti—who sought to connect African sounds with Western audiences. In the UK, The Funkees became a staple of the West African and Caribbean diaspora scenes, performing in clubs, festivals, and community gatherings. While they gained recognition within these circles, they never broke into the British mainstream charts like Osibisa, underscoring both the opportunities and limitations facing African musicians abroad.
Decline and Breakup (Late 1970s – Early 1980s)
Internal disagreements over direction, management, and finances began to fracture the band by the late 1970s. Members pursued separate paths:
Harry Mosco Agada launched a successful solo career with albums like Country Boy (1978) and Peace & Harmony (1979), leaning into disco and pop.
Jake Sollo became a respected guitarist and producer until his tragic death in a 1985 car accident.
By the early 1980s, The Funkees had effectively disbanded.
Musical Style and Legacy
The Funkees’ sound fused diverse elements into a uniquely Nigerian groove:
Afro-funk foundations – heavy bass lines meshed with African rhythmic complexity.
Psychedelic and rock guitars – reflecting Hendrix-inspired experimentation.
Highlife roots – grounding their music in pre-war Nigerian popular styles.
Bilingual lyrics – in English and Igbo, touching on love, resilience, and social themes.
Though their career was relatively short, their records became cult classics, later reissued to global acclaim.
Today, The Funkees are celebrated alongside BLO, Monomono, and Ofege as part of Nigeria’s 1970s experimental wave that bridged local traditions with international funk and rock.
Their music continues to inspire modern Afrobeat and Afrofunk revivalists, reaffirming their place in the lineage of African innovation.
From their post-war army-band origins to their London years, The Funkees embodied the turbulence and creativity of 1970s Nigeria. They may not have reached the global commercial heights of Osibisa or Fela Kuti, but their bold sound carved out a lasting legacy. With landmark albums like Point of No Return and Now I’m a Man, The Funkees remain one of the great innovators who helped shape how Afro-funk is remembered today—vital, experimental, and timeless.
Left to right: Jake Solo, Emma Lawson, Pat Finn, Jeff Afam and Jerry Jiagbogu
FOLLOW US ON:
Theresa Onuorah, celebrated as the Queen of Egedege Dance, is one of Nigeria’s most enduring cultural icons. A singer, dancer, and innovator, she has elevated Igbo performance traditions onto a grand stage while safeguarding their authenticity. Through her artistry, she demonstrates how heritage can remain alive, dynamic, and relevant across generations.
Early Performances and the Birth of Egedege
Before 1985, when she formally established the Egedege Dance Troupe of Unubi in Anambra State, Theresa Onuorah was already captivating smaller community gatherings with her commanding stage presence and sonorous voice. Her natural talent quickly made her a local favorite, laying the foundation for what would become a cultural revolution.
The name Egedege refers to a royal-styled Igbo dance once reserved for kings, titled men, and the wealthy elite. Originally performed under moonlight as a symbol of prestige, Onuorah reimagined it as a theatrical art form open to wider audiences.
By infusing Egedege with elaborate choreography, resplendent regalia, and layered musical arrangements, she democratized a once-exclusive tradition, transforming it into a performance that combined palace grandeur with communal celebration.
The Regal Style of Egedege
What makes Egedege unique is its aura of majesty. On stage, Onuorah appears in rich Igbo attire adorned with coral beads, moving with the dignity of cultural royalty. The performance often begins with the piercing melody of the flute, signaling reverence, before swelling into call-and-response chants led by her commanding voice.
Traditional instruments—ogene (metal gong), drums, and flutes—blend with synchronised dance movements, all designed to embody dignity, identity, and pride. For the Igbo, Egedege is more than entertainment; it is a living archive of heritage and a display of social prestige.
Rise to Fame
By the late 1980s and 1990s, Theresa Onuorah’s troupe had risen to prominence across southeastern Nigeria. She became the preferred performer for royal households, cultural festivals, and national celebrations, earning the title “Queen of Egedege Dance.”
Her popularity reflected her ability to combine authenticity with modern showmanship—positioning her as both custodian and innovator of a revered cultural practice.
Renewed Recognition in the 21st Century
While her name remained synonymous with cultural pride, Onuorah’s artistry found new life in October 2021 with the release of Larry Gaaga’s hit single “Egedege,” featuring Flavour N’abania and Phyno.
The collaboration fused Afrobeat with traditional Igbo sounds, introducing Egedege to a new generation.
In the music video, Onuorah appeared in her full regal splendor, a reminder of the timeless authority she carries. The moment echoed how Afrobeat legend Fela Anikulapo-Kuti preserved and globalized Yoruba rhythms—both artists turning indigenous traditions into modern cultural exports.
Legacy and Impact
Theresa Onuorah’s genius lies in her ability to preserve and adapt. By elevating Egedege from palace courtyards to festival stages, she safeguarded its cultural significance while ensuring it resonates with younger audiences.
For the Igbo, her performances embody heritage, dignity, and identity. For Nigeria and beyond, she stands as a living symbol of African resilience and creativity.
As the Queen of Egedege Dance, Theresa Onuorah is not only a custodian of the past but also a cultural bridge—showing that tradition, when nurtured, can shine eternally in modern light.
FOLLOW US ON:
Vladimir Putin to visit India in December
NOA condemns indecent acts at students’ sign-out parties
EFCC arrests 38 internet fraudsters in Lagos raid
‘Sleeping Prince’ of Saudi Arabia dies after 20 years in coma
How A Class Of 24 Students Produced 2 Presidents, 4 Governors, 2 Ministers, 4 Emirs, 3 Justices, 4 Ambassadors and Other Influential Leaders
Why Do You Continue To Lie Against Your Motherland? Presidency Calls Out Kemi Badenoch
-
Lifestyle12 hours agoEl Mafrex (born Mfreke Obong Ibanga; 14 May 1984)
-
Business5 hours agoGTCO injects N365.9bn into GTBank to meet CBN capital requirement
-
Lifestyle12 hours agoThe Funkees: Nigeria’s Afro-Funk Pioneers (PHOTOS)
-
Lifestyle12 hours agoPHOTOS: Theresa Onuorah The Queen of Egedege Dance
-
Sports5 hours agoGarnacho arrives at Chelsea as £40m move from Man Utd moves closer
-
Crime6 hours agoTraders – How N8,000 dispute led to Lagos market killing
-
News7 hours agoFG defends passport price hike to N100,000, N200,000
-
Education5 hours agoFG and ASUU clash over 2021 agreement