๐๐ก๐๐ญ ๐๐ ๐๐๐๐ค ๐ข๐ง ๐๐จ๐ค๐จ๐ญ๐จ ๐๐ฌ ๐๐ฅ๐ซ๐๐๐๐ฒ ๐ข๐ง ๐๐ฎ๐ซ ๐๐จ๐๐ค๐๐ญ
๐๐๐๐ฆ๐ฎ ๐๐ซ๐ข๐ฌ๐, ๐๐ฒ๐จ, ๐๐ง๐ ๐ญ๐ก๐ ๐๐๐ฒ ๐๐๐ ๐จ๐ฌ ๐๐จ๐ง๐จ๐ฎ๐ซ๐๐ ๐๐ญ๐ฌ ๐๐ง๐๐๐ฌ๐ญ๐จ๐ซ๐ฌ.
๐ต๐ฆ: ‘๐๐๐ฆ๐ ๐ด๐๐๐๐๐ฆ๐
โแนkan tรญ ร ลwรก lแป แนขรณkรณtรณ, wรก nรญ ร po แนฃรฒkรฒtรฒ.โ
๐๐ก๐๐ญ ๐ฐ๐ ๐ฃ๐จ๐ฎ๐ซ๐ง๐๐ฒ ๐๐๐ซ ๐ญ๐จ ๐ฌ๐๐๐ค ๐ข๐ฌ ๐๐ฅ๐ซ๐๐๐๐ฒ ๐ข๐ง ๐จ๐ฎ๐ซ ๐ฉ๐จ๐๐ค๐๐ญ.
This proverb framed my thoughts as I stood on the historic grounds of Tafawa Balewa Square, Lagos Island, on the 27th day of December, in the year of our Lord 2025. It is not a saying of complacency; it is a declaration of abundance. It reminds us that Nigeria already possesses what many nations are searching for, culture, history, creativity, resilience, and identity. We have no business chasing what is not lost.
To be among the photographers documenting the Adamu Orisa Play, staged this year to honour departed pillars of Lagos and Nigeria, is an honour that will remain etched in my memory. This was not merely an event. It was a ritual of remembrance, a civic thanksgiving, and a cultural homecoming.
I arrived at TBS the night before and stayed until about 2 a.m., walking the grounds in quiet contemplation, studying angles, anticipating movement, imagining light. I wanted to know where history would best reveal itself through my lens.
That night, providence placed Mr. Seni Makanjuola, one of the engine rooms of the Lagos State Ministry of Culture, Tourism and Arts, in my path. With warmth and efficiency, he ensured my crew and I received our passes. In moments like that, one is reminded that culture survives not only through spectacle, but through the diligence of those who quietly sustain it.
By 9 a.m., I was back at TBS. Even then, Lagos had already announced herself. Roads were jam-parked, and I walked from Independence Bridge to the Square, camera in hand, spirit light.
Security was firm and reassuring. Military men and police officers were stationed everywhere, ensuring safety for the general public and for the President of the Federal Republic of Nigeria, President Bola Ahmed Tinubu, GCFR. Access was smooth. Order prevailed. And then I saw the stands. They were nearly full. I paused, not in surprise, but in awe. Lagosians had come out in their numbers. Culture had called, and the people had answered.
The Yoruba say, โรrรฒhรฌn kรฌ รญ tรณ ร fแปฬjรบ bรก.โ ๐๐จ ๐๐ฑ๐ฉ๐ฅ๐๐ง๐๐ญ๐ข๐จ๐ง ๐๐ช๐ฎ๐๐ฅ๐ฌ ๐ฐ๐ก๐๐ญ ๐ญ๐ก๐ ๐๐ฒ๐๐ฌ ๐ฆ๐ฎ๐ฌ๐ญ ๐ฐ๐ข๐ญ๐ง๐๐ฌ๐ฌ.
I plunged into work immediately. My intention was clear: to produce a book on the Adamu Orisa Play, its history, its meaning, and its place in the evolving story of Lagos.
As I moved around the stands, Lagos revealed herself fully. Men and women dressed in splendid Yoruba attire, aso-oke, adire, lace, damask, paired with elegant sunshades, carefully chosen shoes, and matching bags. It was colour upon colour. Confidence upon confidence.
๐๐ซ๐ฎ๐ฅ๐ฒ, ๐๐ค๐จ ๐ข๐ฌ ๐๐จ๐ซ ๐ฌ๐ก๐จ๐ฐ.
To understand the Adamu Orisa Play is to journey into the spiritual and historical heart of Lagos.
Adamu Orisa predates its modern staging by centuries. Oral tradition situates its first formal performances in mid-19th-century Lagos, during the era of early Obas such as Oba Akitoye and Oba Dosunmu. This was a period of profound transition, political, spiritual, and social.
Adamu Orisa emerged as a sacred ritual performance, created to honour the passing of revered leaders and elders whose lives shaped the moral and civic order of Lagos. It was conceived not as entertainment, but as a rite of passage, a way of guiding the departed into the ancestral realm while restoring balance among the living.
In its earliest form, Adamu Orisa was community-bound. It took place within palace courtyards and sacred routes on Lagos Island. Participation was restricted, movements were deliberate, and symbolism was paramount. Every chant, step, and costume carried encoded meaning.
From this ritual soil grew one of Lagosโ most enduring cultural institutions.
From Adamu Orisa emerged Eyo, not merely a masquerade, but a living philosophy. Clad in flowing white robes (agbada funfun), wide-brimmed hats (ร kรจtรจ), and carrying the sacred รฒpรก bร tร , the Eyo represents transition, from life to ancestry, from silence to continuity, from the visible to the unseen.
Historically, Eyo festivals were performed to:
Honour the death of an Oba of Lagos, commemorate the passing of distinguished chiefs, and prepare the spiritual ground for the installation of a new Oba.
Eyo is authority in motion. Tradition demands reverence. Footwear must be removed, and the รฒpรก bร tร enforces respect without words.
Over time, the institution became structured into recognised groups with defined lineage and roles.
The five principal Eyo groups traditionally recognised are:
Eyo Adimu, the most sacred authority
Eyo Laba (Agere), the path-opener
Eyo Oniko, guardian of discipline
Eyo Ologede, symbol of fertility and continuity
Eyo Agere, reflecting the fluidity of oral tradition
In contemporary Lagos, additional recognised groups, including Eyo Elemoro, identified by its pink hat, participate under strict traditional regulation.
Today, there are over seven registered and traditionally recognised Eyo groups, their legitimacy rooted in lineage, history, and ritual continuity.
The 2025 Adamu Orisa Play carried profound significance. It was staged to honour towering figures in Lagosโ political and social history, all now ancestors:
Mobolaji Johnson, the first Military Governor of Lagos State
Alhaji Lateef Kayode Jakande, the first civilian Governor of Lagos State
Chief Michael Otedola, former Governor of Lagos State
Alhaja Abibatu Mogaji, Iya Oloja General and mother of President Bola Ahmed Tinubu
These were not ordinary names. They were builders of modern Lagos, figures whose lives shaped governance, commerce, and the soul of the city. To honour them through Adamu Orisa was to acknowledge that leadership, too, must pass through ritual remembrance.
What made the 2025 Adamu Orisa Play extraordinary was its intentional relocation, from sacred inner spaces to the civic grandeur of Tafawa Balewa Square. This was not dilution. It was declaration. By situating Adamu Orisa within Detty December, Governor Babajide Olusola Sanwo-Olu affirmed that culture is not frozen in time. It can breathe, evolve, and still remain sacred.
One Eyo group followed another, measured steps, chanting voices, ancestral authority unfolding before tens of thousands. Old and young alike eagerly sought photographs with the Eyos as they completed their parade.
Behind the splendour were tireless hands: the Chief of Staff, to Mr Governor, Mr. Tayo Ayinde present early to ensure order; Mrs. Toke Benson-Awoyinka, who stayed until after 1 a.m.;
Mr. Idris Aregbe, whom I left at 2 a.m. and met again at 9 a.m., having departed only at 6 a.m.
Culture does not happen by accident. It happens because some people refuse to sleep.
As I prepared to leave, I turned back and looked at the crowd. I saw pride. I saw belonging. I saw hope.
Lagos is blessed.
Nigeria is blessed.
๐๐ข๐ญ๐ก ๐๐ฏ๐๐ซ๐ฒ๐ญ๐ก๐ข๐ง๐ ๐ฐ๐ ๐๐ฅ๐ซ๐๐๐๐ฒ ๐ฉ๐จ๐ฌ๐ฌ๐๐ฌ๐ฌ, ๐ก๐ข๐ฌ๐ญ๐จ๐ซ๐ฒ, ๐๐ฎ๐ฅ๐ญ๐ฎ๐ซ๐, ๐๐ซ๐๐๐ญ๐ข๐ฏ๐ข๐ญ๐ฒ, ๐ฐ๐ ๐ญ๐ซ๐ฎ๐ฅ๐ฒ ๐ก๐๐ฏ๐ ๐ง๐จ ๐๐ฎ๐ฌ๐ข๐ง๐๐ฌ๐ฌ ๐ฌ๐๐๐ซ๐๐ก๐ข๐ง๐ ๐๐จ๐ซ ๐ฐ๐ก๐๐ญ ๐ข๐ฌ ๐ง๐จ๐ญ ๐ฅ๐จ๐ฌ๐ญ.
May Lagos continue to rise, a city where culture is preserved, celebrated, and rewarded.
May Nigeria remember herself, confident, just, and prosperous.
May those who lead us be granted wisdom beyond politics, vision beyond today, and courage beyond fear.
May Governor Babajide Olusola Sanwo-Olu be strengthened to do more, to do better, and to leave legacies that time itself will applaud.
And may we, the witnesses and chroniclers, never grow tired of believing that Nigeria will be better, not someday, but in our lifetime.
