30 years after: No Man Fits Into Duro Ladipo’s Shoes - Moremi

Abiodun Duro Ladipo

Abiodun Duro Ladipo is the wife of Duro Ladipo, one of the best known African dramatists from the Yoruba nation, who was born in 1931 but died in 1978 at the age of 47. She is popularly known as Oya or Moremi in the writings, plays and other works of her husband, some of which captured the symbolic spirit of Yoruba myths and mythologies.

Duro Ladipo’s works were solely in Yoruba language but some were later adapted to photography, television plays and cinema, most famous among them being Oba ko so (the king did not hang). Oba ko so was a reflection of the traditional Yoruba story on how Sango became the god of thunder. At the 1961 Commonwealth Arts Festival, the play received international acceptance where a Berlin critic, Ulli Beier, who later taught at the Institute of African Studies, University of Ibadan (UI), compared Duro Ladipo with an Austrian orchestra, opera conductor, Herbert von Karajan, whom the New York Times described in his obituary as “probably the world’s best-known conductor and one of the most powerful figures in classical music.”

In this interview, Oya speaks with YEMISI AOFOLAJU and SEYI GESINDE about herself, husband, life after her husband’s death 30 years ago and other sundry issues. Excerpts:

By March, it will be 30 years since your husband died. How has it been?
I thank God Almighty for He has been faithful. There were series of problems. You know it is not easy to lose a loved one. You know the type of person my husband was and you can imagine that type of person, with all that he possessed, to have died unexpectedly. That destabilised a lot of things. But God proved Himself to be the living One. I’m also grateful to friends, family members and admirers for their support. It is not easy but that I’m still alive 30 years after is by God’s doing. Where do I start from? Is it the children’s schooling? Coping with theatre work, especially where my husband left it - without him around? Or fending for myself and general home keeping? It is God.

You’ve alluded a lot to God in your response, which portrays the image of a Christian faithful. This is somehow contrary to the image of Sango (god of thunder) your husband was known for on stage, as well as that of Oya as displayed by you. Many people believe that you and your husband are fetish. Is this so? What is the truth?
Well, a good observation. But one thing people need to understand is that culture and religion are the same thing and none of the two affects each other. Both stand separately. I’m a devout Christian and do not joke with church attendance. Or you want me to call my pastor now? I will gladly call him so you can confirm from him my stand in Christianity. I don’t joke with God because I know that instead of running after man for help, it is better to run to God. God himself spoke with me. I heard His voice. He promised to be with me and I believe in Him. He has done a lot and I believe He will still do more. That is why I arrogate a lot to Him in my conversation.

How old were you when you got married to your husband?
I should be around 23 years old and we spent just 14 years together before he died.

What was your growing up and parental background like?
I’m from Ijero Ekiti, but the particular location is four miles away from Ijero. The place is called Epe. You know I’m a princess. My father was a devout Christian. He is also a chief. His name is Chief Joseph Olufarati. So, my maiden name is Caroline Abiodun Olufarati and I stopped my education at the secondary level.

With the tough image of your husband, even the audience were always scared seeing him on stage. Were you not afraid to stay with that kind of man? Or did you too have some kind of supernatural power?
There is nothing of such. All powers belong to the living God. No power can supersede His. But one thing I know is that both of us understood each other. You know at times God will match two people’s destinies together but the onlooker may not understand that. Many people do not really understand why we got so fond of each other. Only God understands.

How did you meet?
It wasn’t in any unusual manner. It was just like any lady meeting a man. But one thing is that when we got talking, I felt God chose me to help him, especially when he told me about his status then.

What kind of status?
He was a teacher for several years. But you know, if someone hasn’t got a niche for a breakthrough in life, such will just be struggling with life. That was his status then. But it was a period we got so involved and he picked up the theatre work again (from its dying state) and restored life back into it. He brought out diggers and shovel to search for its root. It was exactly at the time he found it that he died. But he found it.

Maybe you’ll tell us what type of person Duro Ladipo was. Many see him as something of a freak, full of supernatural powers – like Sango?
Haaa! He was the kind the Yoruba call abiku (someone believed to have died several times before his actual birth). He was a very strong man – a rare kind. You see in that aspect, God too knows he created him a rare kind. I was very close to him and I know him very well. Though I didn’t know he was an abiku before I married him, it was later he told me he was one. One day he told me the meaning of Duro; that it was an abiku name. At that time it was too late for me to call it quits. Then I asked myself what to do? There was nothing else than to stay.

There was this aspect of his life on stage – he emmited fire from his mouth, just like Sango. Was it real fire or make-belief?
That aspect of his life I can’t explain. I don’t understand! Duro Ladipo has taken that away. I don’t know its root. Sango lo mo di ara, Oya lo mo di afefe, (only the god of thunder understands how it strikes and only Oya knows where air comes from). This aspect, Duro Ladipo has gone with it. I don’t know. Let’s talk about something else.

But is it really true that he conjured flames – naked fire – from his mouth?
Yes! It was real. Sometime in Brazil, we went there for a show and he appeared on stage. By the time the fire came out of his mouth, the whites around began to light their cigarettes from it. It was real – real fire! Likewise, when we went to London for the Commonwealth festival. We performed on stage for about 17 days. There was this particular white photographer who was monitoring Duro Ladipo. He actually wanted to capture him live with his camera as the fire came out of his mouth. It was so strange to him that he came with six cameras. We told him to move back, he refused. He was so determined to get his shots. He monitored us to the last day that Sango came on stage.

But when Duro Ladipo appeared as Sango, this paparazzo eventually missed the shot. He felt so bad that he smashed all his cameras on the floor. He got so angry and disappointed.

But with this his strange power, did he know he was going to die? Or did you see any sign that he was going to die?
The only thing I suspect (because we studied each other a lot) was that, that particular day, I saw his eyes were very reddish. It was so much that it even had some stripes. It was too scary that no one could look him eye-to-eye. I called him to ask what was wrong. But he simply told me that it was a sign of good health. Was that not surprising? But that was his response!

I told him that people would be too scared to look at his face. He asked me if I could. I said yes. And he said if I could, I should forget about the rest. But in a short while, I observed that the eyes were becoming whitish. I called his attention to it and he subtly asked me: Are they now turning white? I said yes. He now told me that was a sign of sickness but that everything would soon be alright. That was only what I observed.

For how long did that condition last?
Like 10 days.

Then...
He was hospitalised. But I remember that sometime back, he was admitted in a hospital and he had walked out to stage a show – Ita’dogun Ifa, at the University of Ibadan, right from the sick bed. I said he was ill and shouldn’t go, he said no and left.

What exactly was the nature of the sickness?
I don’t know.

The doctors didn’t diagnose anything?
No. No one even had time to ask. Everybody was troubled and the whole town was in a mourning mood.

Back to your early days with him, how did you introduce him to your parents as someone you wanted to marry?
It is a long story, we can’t finish that in a day.

Can’t you just give us the salient parts of it?
The first time I introduced him, his height was really intimidating to them. They asked: what kind of a strange man is this? I said but he is a human being. They took a second look from his head to toes. They were baffled. Knowing that he was from the (old) Oyo State, they disapproved of our marriage. They said that being from Ekiti, they would not want me to marry a foreigner. They said Oyo would be a too distant place for them to monitor me as their daughter. They said they preferred someone from Ekiti or nearby towns. This would have been the position but for my father’s earlier promise that he would allow me marry anyone I like. It is a long story.

Then...
Okay, we used to have a white mentor, his name was Ulli Beier, at the Institute of African Studies, UI, and he took a lot of interest in the arts, and took a great interest in me. In fact, if I had wanted to marry a white man, we would have got married. But in a way, he cajoled my husband one day, calling him, ‘Duro, if you want your work to continue, you have to marry Asake (that was my stage name then).’ So, later, I didn’t know how they went to my father with ‘aroko’ (traditional Yoruba way of formalising requests). With Ulli Beier, they went to the Orangun of Ila, the oba on the throne then, all to convince my father to release me to them in marriage. It is a long story.

Since after his death, what are the challenges you have faced?
A lot. There was no money and nobody to run to for help but the living God and the little work I could do. I was committed to it. I was not a lazy person. Initially when we met, I didn’t know things would turn out in that manner. But God later took control.

What is it that you missed most in your husband?
What is it that wasn’t lost? Which one will I say? I missed all about him! Because later, people began to ask me that won’t I remarry? I was just laughing.

Which of those experiences is still fascinating to you?
There was a day I was at the Cultural Centre in Ibadan to stage a show Oya sings,’ then there came this man who climbed up stage and walked directly to the back stage where I was to change my dress. I was surprised to see him coming in when I was almost undressing, saying he wanted to see me. I was shocked and told him to let me dress up and come later. He then asked to see me in camera, preferably in my house. I told him to say whatever he wanted to say; that people didn’t just come to my house. He said no; that I should please oblige him. So, I obliged.

Then he showed up one day (what a memorable day!) It was drizzling this particular day as he came in. He was just blabbering, that could I now see that after my husband’s death, everything had gone down to almost wrecking the family. So I should look for someone for support and he would be willing to give a hand if I would marry him. I burst into laughter. I was just laughing; I couldn’t utter a word. He got so embarrassed and asked what was wrong with me. I said I couldn’t figure out any sense from his all he said. I then asked what assistance he could offer; from where would he start? Could he offer all Duro Ladipo offered? I said he shouldn’t add his own problem to mine.

What were those things Duro Ladipo did that he couldn’t measure up to?
No, don’t ask me that... (Laughs).

Maybe you tell us one or two...
You see, he knew me more than I could even say of myself. It always flips to my mind. For instance, now that the weather is cold, owing to the harmattan, he would have been telling me: ‘Go and cover up; if anything happens to you, you know it is my problem.’ I would have been telling him to leave me alone, but he would have insisted. He saw ahead of situations. Whenever any unfriendly weather or situation was on the way, he would warn me before hand – even in most cases that I would be ignorant of the consequences of such.

Who is that person that will do that for me? Like I told that man, how much of his own problem did he understand, not to talk of adding my own to it? (Laughs).

Could it not be that your outright objection to remarry, even at that relatively young age you lost your husband, was borne out of this popular belief that if one marries a strong man like Duro Ladipo, there would have been a covenant to restrict the wife from marrying another man after his death?
Well, I’ve said it, the foundation of our marriage was laid on Biblical injunctions. That day is still fresh in my memory. As a Baptist, you know, the son of a catechist, he was just promoting the culture with his plays and stage performances. We even started with taking Biblical situations to act our plays. God is the foundation of our marriage and I still remember him till date in my prayers whenever in need.

So, no covenant...
Which other covenant is greater than this? You see, if you love someone, this covenant people talk about bothers on love. If you make any covenant and there is no love, it can’t work. Our own covenant is love. Though when he was about to die, he told me something, and I’m not the type that will betray all we discussed together. Even if I do that, can I throw his children away? I can’t do it. So, that is it.

Are you the only wife of your husband?
No, there are other wives.
How come you were his favourite?
It is God that determines this. I won’t go further than that.

So, which of the past works of your husband did you like most?
It is Moremi, because I was the star artiste from the beginning to the end...

Your best food?
Of course iyan (pounded yam).

What of your happiest day?
The day I gave birth to my first child and simultaneously the Federal Radio Corporation of Nigeria (FRCN) radio was playing one of my songs. It was then called Radio Nigeria. We just did some recordings with the station then and particularly, I love to sing about children and co. Incidentally, the song was about children and it was being played when I was in labour. So, I was very happy that night. Everybody was congratulating me that my song had eventually come to reality.

Can you sing the song?
Omo mi o akuru be te ku be,
Omo mi o akuru bete ku bee!
Ki m’eku o, me ra’so i o,
Ki m’eku o me ro’gba okun,
Ogba okun omo is’omo lorun,
Eru mo ra ni apon e ka o,
Akuru be te ku be... (Laughs)

What has been your saddest moment?
It was the day my husband died. May God never allow me see such a black day again.

As things stand now, if any of your children wants to go into acting, will you support such?
Yes. They are even already in it. I have a daughter who heads the Arts and Culture Department in Osogbo. Then, my last born is already a dancer.

Take a look at the ladies of today, do you think they have this kind of understanding you exhibited in your marriage, and your kind of patience after the death of your husband? And your advice?
Before a lady concludes on marrying someone, such must have considered all the options. Think deep before going into it because it is not a place you go with the mind of coming back home. More so, there is no honour in returning to your father’s house after marriage, especially when you’ve had children for each other.

Rather, be tolerant and have a lot of patience. It’s not all odds you give attention to. There is no woman that does not have a problem she is coping with. But those who cannot adapt to the situation are those people talk about. They are bad examples to the women folk because they’ve deserted their husbands who should be the crown over them. So, in a way, they’ve lost their crown.

Then this present day artistes, their styles seem different from that of your generation. Why?
The only thing I observed is that it is not the love of the job that motivates them into acting. It was love that motivated us. But today, money is the motivating factor. It is now a business. Again, the type of clothes the ladies acting these days wear on stage is horrible. They create wrong impression to their audience. They should think of their names and the future of everything they do.