Tiwa n' Tiwa

Yoruba people are amazing people…Haters stand aside (-_-).

Truth be told, they’re also an incredibly hilarious race. They have to be, to converse on the phone the way they do.

You see a Yoruba babe on the phone. She’s talking to her grandma, perhaps. She respectfully kneels down when she’s saying ‘good morning’. She answers questions with nods and head-shakes. Apparently, grandma can see her from thirty miles away. Once, I saw a chic trying to direct someone to where she was over the phone. First, she moved to a spot where there was enough space to move her hands around. Then she started pointing and demonstrating to her friend (over the phone) how to get to his destination.

Yoruba people are also very ‘seniority’ conscious. They can break somebody’s head on top of a 2-month gap. “Am I your mate?” “Am I your father’s mate?” When you remind them it’s just two months and they should take it easy, they go, “Can you buy two months in the market.” Dem no dey take ‘Aunty’ or ‘Uncle’ or even ‘Boda mi’ play. When a woman marries into a Yoruba family, she can’t call anyone in the family by name – not even if she’s twenty years older than them (I don’t get my people). As a Yoruba girl growing up, and even now, it has not been easy. I wouldn’t know how to tell those who should be calling me aunty apart from those that I should be calling aunty. So I developed the NO-NAME skill.

If I see someone and I’m not sure, I just smile and say “good afternoon” (you also have to be very careful not to speak Yoruba. They have pronouns for older people (it’s hard work). If the person is not looking at you, tap him or her lightly on the shoulder and say what needs to be said. If you eventually have to call the name by force by fire, depending on how much is at stake, improvise. Some people, once you call them by name, your whole family will hear and start calling you names. “Omo ti o l’eko….Rude child…” Etc.

Yoruba people like plenty activity…plenty ‘owanbe’. They like to party. If you see a Yoruba woman owing a lot of debt, trust me she used the money for aso ebi. There’s a party next weekend and the lace they’re using is about 30 thousand naira. Rather than repair the small fridge that spoiled, she will buy the aso ebi. The best part is, she doesn’t know either of the people getting married. The bride’s friend’s friend’s friend’s brother’s cousin’s step-sister invited her. Still, she buys the lace. Who wan carry last??

I like how my people are very respectful. Very. Very. Respectful. Even when they’re insulting someone. Say an elderly man vexes a young Yoruba girl. She would look at him calmly and ask…“Excuse me sir, ejo e ma binu o. Se ori yin pe rara bayi?” Translation à “Excuse me sir, please don’t be angry. Is your head correct at all like this?” Some of them will even kneel down to ask (-_-).

I think the most superstitious people in Africa, probably the world, are Yoruba people. If you hit your big toe on a stone in the morning, go back home. If you beat a child with a broom, his ‘something’ will disappear. Pregnant women should not go out in the sun or they should put like two hundred pins on their bodies to ward off the every spirits *shivers*. If you take too much sharwama, you’ll grow a second head (ok that one’s a lie). But you get my drift, no?? Must have been hard growing up in them days. 

The Yoruba people are also know as the “H’ people. Vowels can never stand alone. They come with a specially packaged ‘H’. If you hear someone say, “Ham not hallowed to heat ere hagain”, do not be afraid. It’s a Yoruba person come into town. They put the letter H where no one else can, and remove it when no one else can. My suspicion is that the first few Yoruba men (Oduduwa and co), were created the same day God created the letter ‘H’. If you’ve got another explanation, please free to share.

Ham a Yoruba girl hand ham proud of hit (if you can successfully read that, you are certified to marry any Yoruba person you like.) I love my people. They’re very respectful and very friendly and very family oriented…plus loads more. We rock o jare. *winks*

Yours truly, Rantalot