By Wale Ojo-Lanre Esq.
Yes.
You read that right.
Once upon a time, Ladoja was cursed by an Olubadan.
Not just any Ladoja.
Yes—that Ladoja.
The present Olubadan of Ibadan, Rasheed Adewolu Ladoja.
I know what I am saying.
Pause.
Let it sink.
This rare breed of a human being.
The brilliant student of Oliver Heights Grammar School, Oyo.
The maritime business mogul.
The Senator of the Federal Republic of Nigeria.
The man who ruled Oyo State twice within a space of four years.
Yes.
That man.
I am telling you—without blinking—that he was publicly cursed.
Not in the dead of night.
Not by political jobbers.
Not by WhatsApp prophets.
But in the open.
Before chiefs.
Before the crowd.
Before history.
And wait—
At that time, he was the Osi Olubadan.
And no, he was not cursed by only an Olubadan.
A cleric also stood up and sealed the spell.
Now you are asking yourself:
“Is this man serious?”
“Is he lying?”
But you know me.
I do not lie.
This was the same man who, when crowns were being rushed, refused to rush.
When some of his peers were lured into a muddy and combustible traditional controversy, he stepped back.
He refused to hastily wear a crown.
He refused to jump the Ibadan queue.
That refusal—
That stubborn loyalty—
That irritating discipline—
—was what provoked the moment.
On that day, the then Olubadan, the late Oba Aje Ogungunluso, did not merely speak.
No.
Kabiyesi rose.
He summoned tradition.
He summoned symbolism.
Then—in my imagination—he brought out a white horn.
Not an ordinary horn.
A horn filled with honey.
Ibadan people know what that means.
Honey—not bitterness.
Sweetness—not poison.
Longevity—not destruction.
The Olubadan lifted the horn before gods and men and cast the so-called “curse.”
He did not shout.
He did not threaten.
He did not frown.
He invoked.
He declared that this Osi Olubadan—faithful, patient, disciplined—
would live to mount the throne of Ibadan.
That his loyalty to tradition would not bury him.
That his refusal to cut corners would not ruin him.
And as if the spiritual realm demanded double confirmation, a Chief Imam—indeed, a distinguished and respected cleric— stepped forward at the praying ground and did the unthinkable.
He reinforced it.
Publicly.
Without hesitation.
Without fear.
Two authorities.
One ritual.
One destiny.
Now tell me—
If this is a curse,
then may Ladoja live long.
I prefer this kind of curse to bitter prayers fermented in envy.
Okay.
If you say I am lying—check the video.
Video lies not.
And if this is a curse,
I don’t need another prayer.
May Oba Ladoja live long—beyond our imagination.
Hoobi.
Come and beat me.
I am in Ashipa Village,
Oluyole Local Government,
Ibadan—
eating àmàlà and gbègìrì, not pounded yam.
Happy New Year.
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