THE LAST AWOROSASA: END OF THE OLD STOCK
…A Dirge for Pa Reuben Famuyide Fasoranti, OFR
By Oloroogun Sola Ajisafe
Pa Fasoranti is gone.
He has gone at above 100, and with him has gone a species. Not just a man, but a memory. Not just a life, but a library. He was the last of the real Aworosasa.
In Yorubaland, the Aworosasa are not made by titles. They are forged by time. They are the initiates. The holders. The keepers of the flame that does not burn out. In their hands rests the secret of the society. In their minds, the map of the community. In their silence, the weight of values that were never written down but were always obeyed. Some of what they know is spoken. Some is acted. Some is etched only in the memory of the people, and can only be seen in dreams and said in passing. That was Baba.
He was disciplined when indiscipline became fashion. He was cultured when culture became costume. He was restrained when restraint became weakness. He was deep in a shallow age. He worked hard when shortcuts became creed. He was loyal to an idea of Yoruba that was bigger than himself. He was joined, like iron to iron, by a sense of history, by a hunger for cultural renaissance, by a nationalism that did not need to shout.
Sometimes he was unbending. But even his unbending was measured. Even his anger was tailored. He taught not by lectures, but by living. He taught values by becoming them. That is how the old stock passed things down. Not in workshops. In example.
They were not afraid to be different. They were not afraid to be alone. Their convictions were morally frank, and once resolved, they did not bend. They made sacrifices in silence. With equanimity. They could disagree inside the room, and still walk out as one. That was the discipline. That was the stock.
Baba was an epitome of what an Aworosasa should be. Frugal. He did not chase excess. A teacher of values. And the greatest lesson came in 1999. The governorship of Ondo was given to him on a platter of gold. He refused. On principle. On conscience. On the quiet belief that some things are not taken because they are offered. Such things no longer happen now. Now we scramble. Now we negotiate. Now we explain away principle. Baba did not.
He led the Yoruba race for many years. He led Afenifere. And here is the truth we must not bury with him. The house broke while he held the keys. The split with Ayo Adebanjo never went away. Two elders. Two visions. Two camps. And it remained, raw and open, until both of them have now become memories.
That is the burden history will ask him about at the gate. What will he tell Oduduwa? How will he report to Awolowo? What news will he deliver to Ajasin? Did he say we kept the covenant, or did he say we fractured it?At both ends, the living needs a rethink
And what of those he raised, those he walked with, those who sat at his feet? Oba Olu Falae. Basorun Arogbofa. Korede Duyilemi. Abagun Kole Omololu. Olusegun Mimiko. Dare Babarinsa. How would they treat Oba Olaitan and Sola Ebiseni? What did he teach them? What did he pass on? The Yoruba ideology. The Yoruba oneness. The idea that we may argue in the inner chamber but must never bleed in the public square. Who will now hold that thread? Who will now mend it?
The splitting since De Rovan in 1999 was a sore that would not close under his watch. The inability to helm us together. That was the great ache. A leader is measured not only by what he builds, but by what he could not hold. And that, too, must be said plainly. Because the old stock did not lie. Not even in mourning.
As he departs now, he leaves a challenge. Not a eulogy, but a task. To those who will take his seat, his staff, his name: how will you restore Yoruba solidarity? How will you bring back Omoluabi? Not the word on banners. The value in conduct. The value in restraint. The value in putting the race above the self. That is what seemed to have been lost. And that is what must be found. Or else the ideology dies with the men.
So we sing him home with the last stanza that has always called us. Written by the great Awo. A creed for the Yorubas.
_Omo Odua dide.
Bo si po eto re.
Iwo ni, iwo ni.
Ogo adulawo_
Children of Oduduwa, arise.
Take your rightful place.
You are, you are.
The pride of the Black race.
Baba has taken his place.
Now we must take ours.
Oloroogun Sola Ajisafe writes from Akure, Ondo State
