History is not simply a collection of myths told around firesides; it is the living memory of a people, their compass, and their inheritance. For the Yoruba, one of Africa’s most culturally sophisticated nations, history has too often been bent into convenient shapes to serve politics, throne rivalries, or colonial reconstructions. Few debates ignite such passion as the relationship between the Ooni of Ife and the Alaafin of Oyo, and the wider question of Oduduwa’s true legacy. If we are to be historically correct, culturally faithful, and respectful of the integrity of Yoruba identity, then we must peel away the myths and return to the core of tradition and fact.
The Ooni of Ife was never the grandfather of the Alaafin of Oyo, nor was he ever a biological descendant of Oduduwa in the genealogical sense in which some court traditions attempt to frame him. This narrative, which continues to circulate, is anachronistic and historically misleading. Oduduwa, the progenitor and culture hero of the Yoruba, did not father the Ooni. What Oduduwa did was conquer and consolidate Ife, imposing his power upon its pre-existing people and institutions, and transforming it into his ritual and political headquarters. The Ooni’s throne, therefore, derives from Oduduwa’s conquest of Ife, not from direct filiation. To confuse ritual primacy with genealogy is to distort Yoruba memory.
Oral traditions preserved across Yoruba towns and codified in the great 19th-century chronicles, such as Samuel Johnson’s History of the Yorubas, agree that Oduduwa had only one son, known as Okanbi, whose children dispersed far and wide to found dynasties. Okanbi’s lineage produced seven children, all warriors and adventurers, who established the kingdoms of Oyo, Ketu, Sabe, Popo, and beyond. Oranmiyan, perhaps the most celebrated of them, became the founder of Oyo and played a decisive role in the Benin monarchy. These lineages, together, form the backbone of what later became known as the “children of Oduduwa,” the constellation of Yoruba kingships with shared ancestry but independent sovereignties.
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In this picture, where does the Ooni stand? Historically and ritually, the Ooni occupies the sacred stool of Ile-Ife, the city regarded as the cradle of the Yoruba people. But being the custodian of sacred shrines, the guardian of Oduduwa’s symbols, and the head of Ife’s ritual hierarchy does not make the Ooni the biological father, grandfather, or genealogical senior of the Alaafin of Oyo or of any other descendant of Okanbi. At best, the Ooni represents ritual primacy because Ile-Ife is revered as the spiritual and cultural source. At no time in Yoruba history did the Ooni exercise political supremacy over Oyo, nor could he summon the Alaafin or other rulers at will. Indeed, tradition remembers that in gatherings of Oduduwa’s children, the Ooni could only appear if invited. This reflects the reality that Ife was never an imperial power like Oyo, Dahomey, or Benin. Its primacy was sacred, not imperial.
Archaeology supports this distinction. Excavations at Ife have uncovered magnificent bronze and terracotta masterpieces dating from the 12th to 15th centuries, demonstrating the city’s position as a sacred and artistic center. Scholars like Frank Willett, Suzanne Blier, and Jacob Olupona have shown that Ife’s significance lay in its ritual sophistication and symbolic centrality. The Obalufon copper mask, the Wunmonije bronzes, and the shrines of Ifa and Obatala attest to a civilization that was deeply religious and ceremonial. Yet the archaeology also confirms what history tells us: Ife was never the seat of empire. It was the source of ritual legitimacy, not the wielder of armies. The Ooni presided over ceremonies, not conquests.
By contrast, Oyo rose to political greatness under the Alafins, whose cavalry armies dominated the savannah belt of West Africa. From the 16th century until the collapse of Old Oyo in the 19th century, the Alafins were the unrivalled military and political leaders of the Yoruba world. Alaafin Abiodun, Alaafin Aole, and Alaafin Atiba shaped not only Oyo’s destiny but that of Yoruba and West African geopolitics. It would be historically absurd to suggest that such imperial figures were “grandchildren” of the Ooni, or that the Alaafin owed fealty to the Ooni’s throne.
The confusion arises from a misreading of Yoruba kinship language. In Yoruba culture, seniority is often expressed in the idiom of parenthood. A priest is called “father” to his initiates, a community elder is “mother” to the people. In the same way, the Ooni, as custodian of Oduduwa’s shrines, was metaphorically referred to as “baba” in ritual language. But metaphor is not genealogy. To turn ritual fatherhood into literal ancestry is to betray the subtlety of Yoruba thought.
Ifa, the sacred divination system of the Yoruba, clarifies this distinction. As Professor Wande Abimbola and other scholars of Ifa have argued, the Odu Ifa preserves compacted historical memory within its myths and proverbs. Ifa recognizes Oduduwa as a foundational ancestor and culture hero, but it does not place the Ooni in a genealogical hierarchy above the other Yoruba kings. Instead, Ifa emphasizes the interdependence of the orisa, the balance of powers, and the sacred duty of each ruler. The Ooni’s role is sacral and priestly, not paternal in the biological sense.
The narrative of the Ooni as grandfather of the Alaafin is a distortion that took deeper root in the colonial and postcolonial era, when court traditions were rewritten to assert prestige in a new political order. Each throne sought to project itself as the senior custodian of Yoruba identity. In this context, Ife emphasized its ritual centrality, while Oyo pointed to its imperial history. Colonial administrators, unfamiliar with the subtleties of Yoruba political theology, often privileged one version over another, creating hierarchies where none historically existed.
To be faithful to the truth, we must affirm that Oduduwa was the progenitor; that Okanbi fathered the warrior-children who spread Yoruba rule across West Africa; and that the Alaafin of Oyo descends through Oranmiyan, not through the Ooni of Ife. We must also affirm that Ife’s sacred primacy does not translate into genealogical superiority or political authority over the sons of Okanbi. The Ooni is custodian of shrines, not overlord of empires.
This clarification is not meant to diminish the Ooni’s sacred stature, nor to elevate one throne above another. On the contrary, it is to honor the integrity of Yoruba tradition by restoring distinctions where they belong. The strength of the Yoruba world has always been its plurality—many towns, many thrones, one heritage. The Alafin in Oyo, the Ooni in Ife, the Awujale in Ijebu, the Oba of Benin, the Onipopo of Popo, the Alaketu of Ketu—all are branches of the Oduduwa legacy, each with its own weight and dignity. To collapse them into one false genealogy is to weaken the very foundation of Yoruba identity.
This distinction is not a rivalry but a balance. The strength of the Yoruba has always been its plurality: many thrones, many dialects, one heritage. To honor this truth is to honor ourselves, for history is not a weapon to be twisted but a lamp to guide the future. The fall of Oyo and Benin was hastened by colonial conquest; the confusion of our history today is fueled by political mischief. If the Yoruba people are to remain strong, we must reclaim the integrity of our story and pass it on without distortion.
Let us, therefore, reject distortions and selective narratives. Let us document with accuracy and transmit to our children the truth: that Oduduwa was the founder, Okanbi the progenitor of dynasties, and that Ile-Ife remains the sacred cradle, not the throne of political supremacy. In this truth lies the pride of every Yoruba son and daughter, for our history is richer than myth, and our future depends on the clarity of our past.
For in truth lies freedom, and in clarity lies unity.
