Opera in Nigeria: the case of Duro Ladipo's "Qba Koso."

There are conflicting accounts of Duro Ladipo's year and place of birth, which may be the result of inaccurate documentation. A number of sources point to December 18, 1932, but two other sources, which can be considered more authentic, state that Nigeria's famous dramatist Duro Ladipo was born on that date in 1931. The first of the latter sources is the University of Ibadan Official Bulletin no. 452 (March 1978), the second is Ladipo himself. As to his place of birth, most sources suggest Osogbo; a negligible few others say that he was born at Ilobuu, a couple of kilometers from Osogbo. Although the dramatist never corroborated either claim, records show clearly that his childhood was spent at Osogbo, the present capital city of Osun State in Nigeria. This evidence, moreover, tends to refute a third suggestion, that he was born at Ogbomoso, a town about seventy kilometers west of Osogbo.

The dramatist's forename is suggestive of the circumstances surrounding his birth, growth, and death. To understand its derivation, one must turn to Yoruba traditional philosophy. "Duro" is a partitive name, fully realized as "Durodola," which literally means "stay and enjoy honor." "Ola" is an attribute of the larger family and recurs in the surname "Oladipo." In connotation, "Duro" refers to a child who has been born several times and has died several times. In the cycle of birth and rebirth, according to Yoruba belief, children in this category die not long after their birth but are reborn, only to die and be born again.

Rituals surrounding the death of an infant are meant to ensure that after the next birth the child can remain in the world of humans. One of the rituals is the inflicting of cuts on the corpse of the child before burial in order to prevent a rebirth, thus paving the way for a different child. If the rituals fail, the child is born again, with the scar of the earlier ceremony. The rituals of survival are then invoked, including the magical "padlocking" of the child's gateway back to the ethereal world. If this effort is successful, the child survives and grows to adulthood. A child with this peculiarity is usually referred to as "Abiku" (born to die). Duro Ladipo must have gone through the cycle of birth, death, and regeneration a number of times. That he finally survived for over forty-six years qualified him for the title "Abiku Agba" (the elder Abiku), referring to the fact that he died at a comparatively early age.

The account of Duro Ladipo's childhood tells of his contact with an Ifa priest (a Yoruba divination priest and medicine man) who was nicknamed Baba Agadagodo" (the padlock father). Duro is said to have dreaded this man because he was believed to have shut the gate to Duro's wandering in the spiritual world. As if time were out to prove the potency of the medicine man's "padlock," no sooner had the medicine man died, in 1977 -- an event that Ladipo considered good riddance -- than Ladipo himself died, on March 10, 1978 (Ogundeji 1988, 96-99).

By the standard of the time, Duro Ladipo was highly literate. As the son of a clergyman, he had the opportunity of acquiring primary and middle school education in a mission school. Through in-service training he obtained Grade Three and Grade Two teacher's certificates, in 1955 and 1958, respectively.(1) In spite of his Christian background, Ladipo secretly embraced the Egungun (ancestral/masquerade) cult and participated in its festivals. He was known to have worn the Egungun mask on several occasions. Ladipo authenticated this assertion himself:

From my childhood, I showed a keen interest in traditional Yoruba culture

and customs.... I followed closely the activities of different masquerades

and cultists, often to the dismay of my father. The Egungun and Ose

festivals ... the Obatala, Sango and Otin festivals ... were some of the

important festivals in which I showed my interests as a very young man. (Quoted

in Ogunbiyi 1981, 334)

Ladipo's affiliation with various traditional forms of worship and his exposure to modern Christian culture and Western education made him a man of dual cultural outlook. This duality was reflected in his dramatic work, although it also estranged him from the church. An example will suffice here. In 1960 All Saints Church in Osogbo invited him to stage an Easter cantata. To the astonishment of the congregation, Ladipo introduced the traditional talking drum into the performance, an innovation that the church authorities considered deviant, even sacrilegious, and caused them to stop the performance.

Undaunted, the dramatist simply moved into the secular area. Years later he established the Mbari Mbaro (Popular) Theatre, where his tradition-based innovations were neatly woven into biblical adaptations. Ladipo's new method was a visionary response to the wind of change that was to permeate the traditional culture in years to come. Adrift in mid-position as he was, it was inevitable that he would embrace the old and the new; in doing so, he helped the old to survive. A comment by Nigerian playwright Wole Soyinka (1988,191) interestingly expresses the situation:

The history of West African theatre in the colonial period reveals itself

therefore as largely a history of cultural resistance and survival. Confronted by

the hostility of both Islamic and Christian values in addition to the

destructive imperatives of colonialism, it has continued until today to vitalise 

contemporary theatrical form, both in the traditional folk opera and in the

works of those playwrights and directors commonly regarded as

"Westernized."

A. J. Odunsi and Alex Peters, who were two of Duro Ladipo's head teachers in his career as a schoolteacher, helped to discover the dramatist and actor in him. He met Peters in 1947, when the latter's theatrical troupe came from Ilesa for a performance at Osogbo. Ladipo was struck by Peters's art and opted to join him. The young man was offered a job in Peters's school. When Peters was transferred to Kaduna in 1949, Ladipo went with him, but he did not return with Peters in 1951 when his mentor was transferred back to Ilesa. This gave him the opportunity to establish an independent troupe, which made its debut four years later with an adaptation of Shakespeare's As You Like It.

When Ladipo lost his property to thieves in 1956, he returned to Osogbo to get another teaching job. He also served as a box office collector and handbill distributor for the Ajax Cinema and ran a beer parlor, the Popular Bar. This drinking place soon played an important role in his growth as a theater artist. There he came into contact with Ulli Beier, a University of Ibadan extramural tutor in Osogbo, who shortly thereafter made the place an evening relaxation resort. Ladipo's invitation to Beier to attend his Easter cantata in 1960 marked a turning point in the young dramatist's career. When the performance was canceled, as noted earlier, Beier not only encouraged him to produce the cantata at the Popular Bar, he also alerted the University of Ibadan to Ladipo's genius. This recommendation soon paid off well, as the university's Institute of African Studies gave him a grant of two hundred pounds. With the special support of Ulli Beier and Susan Wenger, he was able to convert his Popular Bar into a cultural and literary center, renamed Mbari Mbaro. It was patterned after the Mbari Club of Ibadan, a gathering place of literary scholars from the University of Ibadan.

The demands of the new center were such that Duro Ladipo lost his teaching job. But this was a hidden blessing, as he could now go into full-time acting. The center's commissioning by the traditional ruler of Osogbo, the Ataoja Oba Adenle, on May 17, 1962, was marked by the performance of Ladipo's Oba Moro (The Ghost Catcher), the first of a trilogy.

The Plays and Operas of Duro Ladipo

It is a common idea that the opera in Nigeria was a literary and musical subgenre borrowed from the Europeans; Nigerian opera was not the brainchild of Duro Ladipo, but he made the most innovative use of the form. In addition, the pioneering effort of Hubert Ogunde (1916-1990) ought to be acknowledged here, for he was not only the first Nigerian to use the opera in a secular context, he also removed it from the grip of the church, where it was first used, and gave it to the public. Ogunde's operas deviated greatly from the European archetype because of their three-act form, comprising an opening glee, the opera proper (the unfolding of the plot), and a closing glee. Ogunde's formula was a conscious imitation of the Alarinjo (itinerant) Traditional Theatre, which followed the Yoruba masquerade cult (Adedeji 1970; Clark 1980).

However, the colonial European influence cannot be disputed, since the majority, if not all, of the artists who drifted toward Lagos lost their traditional outlook to modern European influences. This loss of tradition would have gone beyond retrieval but for the rescue efforts of Duro Ladipo, whose innovations and inclusion of indigenous elements were evident from the moment he made his debut with his own National Theatre. His limited use of the established dramatic forms and substantial deviations from the pattern used by his predecessors were informed by his prime purpose, namely, propagating Yoruba culture.

That Ladipo's plays were mostly operas can be accounted for by the fact that music, with or without accompaniment, is an essential aspect of any traditional Yoruba performance -- without music it is incomplete. The idea of an opera would not be seen as novel by a traditional Yoruba artist. It is this correspondence that made it easy for Nigerian artists to adopt the operatic form, which they did first as church drama.(2) In most cases, all actions are accompanied by music. The plot is acted out by the singers, but in some cases the libretto is sung and the corresponding actions enacted by silent performers. In terms of literary sources and thematic concerns, Ladipo's operas can be classified in three categories: traditional-biblical adaptations (morality plays), secular plays, and mytho-historical plays.

The first of these categories requires some clarification. The conflation of traditional and Christian themes is the result of the dual cultural background from which Ladipo was writing. The adaptations look biblical to the churchgoer, but in the eyes of the Yoruba traditionalist they seem to be based on the corpus of Ifa divination narratives. This fact lends credence to Ladipo's denial of an exclusively biblical source. His titles point to neither source, but the plots embrace both sources. It is most probable that the dramatist married the two sources because of their cultural parallels. Thus, by the "traditional-biblical adaptations" we mean works adapted from either Yoruba or Christian traditions, or both. In either case, they are better regarded as morality plays.

Some illustration is necessary here. The plot of Ko Bi Idi is similar to the story of David and Goliath but also correlates with the competition or rivalry in Osa Meji, from the Ifa corpus, in which the less rated but more patient rival triumphs. Similarly, Jaleyemi seems to be fashioned after the story of Samson and Delilah but also parallels the story of the betrayal of Iku (Death) by his wife in Oyeku Miji in the Ifa corpus. Afolayan relates the story of Joseph the Dreamer, who triumphs over his older brothers, which is quite similar to the Ifa divination story in which Eji Ogbe, the youngest of the children of Orunmila (the divine figure behind Ifa corpus), hated and neglected by his elder brothers, surpasses them through the virtues of perseverance, humility, and honesty. The plot of Oluorogbo (1967) might have been informed by the nativity story in the Bible; its title, however, suggests a popular story in the Yoruba myths of origin and survival, as does the title of Moremi (1966). Finally, Eda (Man, 1970) is often considered an adaptation of the medieval story Everyman (the translation by Hugo van Hofmannsthal was likely to have been made available to Ladipo by Ulli Beier). But the traditional materials overpower the medieval content. For instance, the dramatist does not emphasize the theme of retributive justice, which is universal, as much as the theme of reincarnation, which is strong in traditional Yoruba philosophy.

Most of Duro Ladipo's secular plays and operas -- that is, those based on neither biblical nor traditional Yoruba themes -- are satirical and didactic plays scripted for television. However, two are adaptations of Shakespearean plays. Otun Akogun (The Field Marshal) is a variant of Macbeth, while Omonide (The Precious Child) is similar to As You Like It.

In purpose, Duro Ladipo's television productions can be classified into two broad groups. There are the satirical anticolonial plays portraying the Yoruba colonial experience, such as Gbadegesin (the title is the name of the eponymous protagonist); Bode Wasimi (1975), set in and named after Ladipo's home district in Ibadan; and Oyinbo Ajele (The White District Officer, 1986). The second group comprises highly didactic plays, as the titles suggest: Alagbara Ma Mero (Possessor of Zeal Without Knowledge), Ma Gbara Le Won (Do Not Rely on Them), Igberaga Ni i Siwaju Iparun (Pride Goes Before Destruction), Ologbon Aye (The Wise Man of the Universe), and Omulemofo (Seeker of Naught).

Besides writing plays and acting them in the operatic mode, Ladipo also wrote narrative serializations of literary texts for radio and television. Eda Onileola (The Man of Property and Honor) was broadcast in the 1960s on the radio service of the Nigerian Broadcasting Service. In the 1970s, for the Nigerian Television Authority, Ibadan, he adapted D. O. Fagunwa's prose fiction Ogboju Ode Ninu Ibgo Irumole (recently translated into English by Wole Soyinka under the title A Forest of the Thousand Demons).(3)

In the period between 1968 and 1973, Ladipo succeeded in publishing most of his plays and producing gramophone records of his collection of cultural songs and some of his operas. He also served as a source for oral and written material on some Yoruba age-old interethnic war stories and other heroic events. Consequently, the following plays emerged: Jalumi (literally, "Fall into Water," but in thematic translation, "The Battle on Water") and Skiti Parapo (an alliance of Ekiti ethnic groups in battle). There were also plays whose themes border on the epic: Oke Ibadan (The Hill of Ibadan) is a retelling of the history of the Ibadan people; Olum Olumo (an allusion to the rock in Abeokuta) is a play on the aboriginal history of the Egba (Abeokuta) people; Ajagunla focuses on the epic achievement of the Ondo cultural group, while Iremogun does the same for the Ekiti group.

Duro Ladipo's literary dexterity was rewarded at both the national and international levels. In 1963 he became the first dramatist to receive the Nigeria Arts Trophy from the Nigerian Arts Council. In 1964 at the Berlin Arts Festival in Europe, Ladipo, whose company was the first to travel out of Nigeria, won the first prize in drama. This performance also earned him an invitation to perform in the commonwealth Arts Festival in London in 1965. In the same year, in recognition of Ladipo's talent and in appreciation of the fame he had brought to the country, the Nigerian government honored him with the title Member of the Order of Niger (M.O.N.).

Background to Oba Koso

Having discussed Duro Ladipo's operas in general, we will now turn to the specifics of Oba Koso (The King Did Not Hang). It is the second of a trilogy, the other two being Oba Moro (The Ghost Catcher) and Oba Waja (The King Is Dead). Ladipo's trilogy was never intended to embrace the classical or Sophoclean concept of the word. Rather it was an attempt to reenact three crucial stages of the ancient Yoruba kingdom of Oyo. One of the dramatist's primary sources is Johnson's classic History of the Yorubas ([1920] 1973). The story of Sango, the fourth Alaafin of Oyo, predates written history, so Johnson's retelling ([19201 1973, 149-152) was based on oral accounts. The plays, made to wear the heavy robes of the oral tradition, are so constructed that none of the trio can be considered either a complete historical play or one dominantly grounded in folklore; rather, they are a mixture of both. The high degree of drumming and dancing involved, in Oba Moro especially, relegates the plot to such a degree that the play becomes more a subject of choreography.

The trilogy was published in translation in 1964 as Three Yoruba Plays. The translation, by Ulli Beier, calls into question the European influence on Duro Ladipo's dramatic career as it affects his operas. A recording of Oba Koso, sponsored by the Institute of African Studies at the University of Ibadan, was made two years later, employing a translation by Robert G. Armstrong.

Oba Koso, Ladipo's most successful play, won him fame beyond his national boundaries. Between 1963 (when it was premiered) and 1973, the opera was performed in about twenty countries in Europe, North America, South America, and the West Indies.

Ladipo's primary source of raw material was the oral tradition. In order to discover the extent to which he was faithful to his original sources, we must make a short excursion into these mytho-historical sources; without this, the story of Oba Koso may not be clear to the majority of readers. One of the authors, Gboyega Kolawole, a folklorist by training, collected data in the field on the dual origin of Sango, the opera's tragic hero, who is conceived of by the Yoruba people as either a primordial god or a deified hero.

Among Africans in general, and the Yoruba in particular, the chain of being begins with the supreme God, Olodumare, the be-all and end-all of the entire universe. He is at the top of the hierarchy. Next in rank are the other gods and goddesses, some of whom are primordial, the rest deified humans. These divine personages are intermediaries between humankind and God. Each has his or her particular "portfolio." For example, Obatala is the archdivinity and molder of human beings, Ogun is the god of iron and of war, and Sango holds the prominent office of god of thunder -- an instrument of poetic justice. The Yoruba also believe in the existence of spirits, who are next in rank to the gods and goddesses. This is not to say that the belief in these divinities and spirits amounts to polytheism; these supernatural figures are only a means to an end -- they commune with the Supreme Being on behalf of humanity. Their role as intermediaries is similar to that of the Roman Catholic saints, who are asked to intercede with God in response to earthly prayers.

In Ladipo's opera, Sango is initially a king and becomes a god when deified at the end. There is contradictory evidence in Yoruba myth about whether Sango's origin was human or primordial. In one tradition he is mentioned alongside other primordial divinities during the descent from heaven. In fact, the seere (an important Sango symbol) and apo laba (Sango's bag) are said to have been handed to him by Orunmila before the dispersal of the gods, according to Okanran Meji, in the Ifa corpus. However, all other myths indicate that Sango was once a human who was deified on his death or after a mysterious disappearance. The conflicting accounts of Sango's origin may be resolved by accepting that they derive from two different traditions and refer to two different individuals of different periods who bear the same name and exhibit many similarities in character.

Our informants on these matters are leaders of Sango worshippers. They bear the title Mongba, which means "he who saves the victim from Sango's wrath," which refers to Sango's bosom friend, to whom Sango bequeathed his seere and laba bag. These sources' accounts are virtually identical and seem to corroborate some written sources. The most prominent of these is that of Adefabi Akanbi, who claimed that a forebear of his was the closest of the friends of Sango, who was the Alaafin Oyo-Oro. "Alaafin" is the title of the sole ruler of the Oyo kingdom. His territory covers the largest part of Yorubaland and his supremacy is so limitless that he is often addressed as "Kabiyesi" ("Who dares to question your action?").(4)

Alaafin Sango Olufiran had extraordinary powers, which were afforded him by the charms he possessed. He was obsessed with the search for a particular charm, which he rated as the most potent. Sango got the charm but it ruined his career. According to Courlander's account (1973, 81-82), Esu, the Yoruba divine messenger and trickster, prepared the charm in question.(5) The oral tradition also has it that Oya, Sango's most beloved wife, was given the special assignment of conveying the medicine (see Fig. 1). Out of concern for her husband, rather than curiosity on her own part, she tasted the potion. On arriving home, as she attempted to greet Sango she emitted fire, to Sango's embarrassment. Sango, who consumed the whole potion, continuously emitted fire, which outraged the Oyo citizens, who had already borne too much of his tyranny. The uncontrollable charm is said to have set part of Sango's palace ablaze, burning many of his household to death. The bereft Alaafin Sango then sent for his closest friend, to inform him of his decision to commit suicide. This was considered good riddance by the Oyo citizens. But he was saved from hanging by his friend.(6) In appreciation of his friend's steadfastness, Sango bequeathed to him his seere and laba bag. He then wandered for seven days, after which he vowed to revenge his humiliation on the Oyo people, adding that his anger would not be placated until his friend came to save (gba) the situation.

Sango then resorted to the power of transmutation, which heroes of his type enjoyed in those days. He beat a heavy chain on the ground, at which the bowels of the earth opened up and swallowed him. Sango's power then struck: thunder crashed, setting houses ablaze, until his friend interceded, earning his epithet Mongba. He soon became the head of Sango worship, and subsequent holders of the office were addressed as such. Even today, only the Mongba can preside over the rituals performed on those whom Sango has struck or whenever Sango's thunderbolt (edun ara) has struck.

Three of Sango's wives, in sympathy with their husband, also transmuted: Oba, Osun, and Oya are believed to have changed into rivers, which still flow today and are dedicated to them. At Sango's shrine, the statues of these goddesses conventionally surround the image of Sango.

Another myth holds that Sango was half Nupe (a tribe of the Nigerian middle belt). Oranyan, his father, had married a Nupe woman, Torosi, and Sango Olufiran was born an oke (a child born with an unruptured placenta). Because this was an abomination in Nupe belief, he was abandoned in the bush, where he was nursed by a tiger. This connection is said to account for Sango's ability to spit thunderbolts and emit smoke from his mouth and nose. In the Nupe language, "Sango" means "the powerful one." His strange powers and charisma made Ajuan, his elder brother, abdicate the throne in his favor (Johnson [1920] 1973, 148). These two written sources (Courlander and Johnson) agreed that Sango was capable of spitting fire.

In Oba Koso, Ladipo largely follows the traditional accounts but deviates a little by saying that Sango's abdication was prompted by his fruitless attempt to get rid of his fiercest warriors, Gbonka and Timi of Ede, whose rising influence was a threat to his power. In Ladipo's version, Sango devises the intrigue of playing both ends against the middle. When the men realize Sango's trick, they incite a rebellion in which Sango loses his throne and influence.

Sango's symbol of power is a double-headed axe. It signifies that his power cuts both ways. The broader meaning is that Sango stands for poetic justice and that erring individuals against whom Sango's wrath is invoked are within his easy reach. Sango is said to have sixteen eyes, eight covering heaven and eight overseeing the whole earth; they symbolize his omnipresent power.

Taboos attached to Sango are strictly adhered to by his devotees. They must not weep when Sango's thunder strikes someone; when it rains, they do not look in a mirror, carry a light, or sit on mortar. Also, no Alaafin may enter Sango's shrine except on the occasions of his coronation and his death; a proverb associated with this custom, "The elephant and its calf do not trumpet at the same time" (Erin kii fon ki omo re fon), implies that Sango detests rivalry.

Sango's meat is that of a ram, on which the blood of the cockerel must be sprinkled. His favorite dish is amala (paste made from yam powder after thorough kneading) and gbegiri (bean soup). He detests esuro (antelope), sese (beans), and ago (rat).

Sango is worshipped annually immediately after the Egungun festival, which lasts thirteen days and is a community affair. The total cost is supposedly borne by the natural ruler (Oba) of the town. This is the case in Oyo and Iseyin in Oyo State of Nigeria. The ceremonies usually revolve around a session of Sango invocatory chants, accompanied by bata drums, and presided over by Sango's ranked surrogates, the Mongba, the Adosu, and the Elegun. The Adosu are male devotees distinguished by their peculiar hair weave; the Elegun are carriers of Sango's fire and are named after the ecstasy into which they far in the course of worship.

Accounts of various performances of Oba Koso point clearly to the flexibility of the text and the great deal of improvisation involved. Indeed, it could be asserted that, like any oral performance, every performance of Oba Koso had a different text. For example, the length of the scenes of incantations rendered by Gbonka were shorter or longer, depending on the time at Ladipo's disposal or the kind of audience. The flexibility of the text of Oba Koso is also probably connected to the fluidity of the sources manipulated by Ladipo.

It is only because of the poetic license allowed the artist that Ladipo cannot be accused of anachronism, for the incident involving Gbonka and Timi postdates the reign of Sango. But the dramatist was apparently not interested in the boomerang effect of the charm that befell Sango, thus his blending of the traditional account of Sango's fall with the Gbonka-Timi story to "get rid" of Sango in his own way.

The title of the opera itself points to the innovative prowess of Ladipo. If considered literally, it would seem that the title, "The King Did Not Hang," contradicts the plot because Sango does hang on the ayan tree. But the title is only contradictory to the literal minded, because no sooner has he hanged than he disappears and manifests himself in thunder and lightning.

The Plot of Oba Koso

At this point, a critical analysis of the plot is in order. The opening scene is ushered in by dancing and the briskly fitful drumming on the bata (a double-headed tension drum). As the drumming approaches a crescendo, Iwarefa, Sango's eunuch courier, shouts Sango's common appellation in a shrill voice, "Death, father, mother, second in command to the gods!" Meanwhile, the royal wives sing in chorus, "His majesty!" The drumming and dancing continue, accompanied by songs informing the audience of the triumph of the Oyo kingdom over others during the reign of Alaafin Sango. In an apostrophic rendition, Iwarefa chants in high pitch the Alaafin's physical and psychic attributes, preparing the audience for the entrance of the fierce, daring figure of Sango. The ensuing praise of Sango is rendered in alternating tempos. Iwarefa's presto lead voice is chorused by the allegro of the townspeople, who repeat the stanza after him:

Only the one Kogila strikes

Only the one Esu, tricks

Could attack Esu

Could attack Sango

Whom Sango will kill

The masquerade that emits fire from the mouth

Possessor of eyes white as bitter kola nuts.

This piece only adds to the impression of Sango's forbidding nature, which is expressed metaphorically as

The monstrous sacrifice that frightens the vulture 

The first morsel that goes forcefully down

The leopard in relaxation that frightens the hunter.

Bata drumming and dancing continue with songs in praise of Sango, and in due course Sango thunders in, shrieking and puffing out flames. He then calms down and responds gratefully to his praise-singers. He adds that he has no regrets about descending from the hill of Igeti like his fellow divinities (a reference to his primordial origin). Drumming resumes, rising to an astronomical tempo and inciting Sango's spirit to near ecstasy. The scene then terminates abruptly.

The second scene is an exposition of the character of Gbonka, the first of Sango's two warriors. He saunters into the scene and in free rhythm sings, in modest self-praise, of his might and magic. He prostrates himself before Sango, who acknowledges his qualities and achievements. This exchange is intermittently punctuated by drumming and dancing. Gbonka almost immediately recites an incantation, in a manner that is to recur in the drama, invoking divine support in his ventures. Timi, the second warrior, appears. He and Gbonka sing to Sango, again in free rhythm, of their military expeditions, in which fifty-two towns and villages have been captured, and acknowledge Sango's support. This is interrupted by the sound of the dundun (talking drum), complemented by the bata, after which the Oyo Mesi (council of chiefs) walk in singing a complaint about the discomfort, deprivation, and death the incessant wars have brought upon the Oyo people. Timi and Gbonka look on disapprovingly and walk out on them. Rashly and with hesitation, Sango dismisses the complaint. In prompt counterblast, the Oyo Mesi leave the palace, giving the impression of imminent mutiny against Sango.

The Oyo Mesi are chiefs whose advice the Alaafin seeks on knotty issues. The Alaafin is said to be infallible as long as his decisions are guided by the council. But if the Alaafin continually disregards his advisors, he is deposed. This is handled by the Ogboni cult, a caucus of more powerful chiefs within the Oyo Mesi who enthrone and dethrone. In the latter event, the Alaafin is presented with a covered calabash containing the head of a parrot, which signifies that he should commit suicide.

From the moment he first snubs the council in Oba Koso, Sango rarely consults with them -- a clear indication of his complacent and opinionated nature. This attitude prepares a fertile ground for his political Waterloo. Oya, who has read the writing on the wall, pleads immediately with him to hearken to the voice of the people. As she tries to evoke pathos in Alaafin Sango, Oya's voice trills naturally and she sings slowly

The two warriors are invited to Sango's palace, one after the other; each is heralded by the fitful drumming that symbolizes their trade and in response they boast of their might and warlike mien. Hardly has Sango spoken of the purpose for which they were summoned than the two, in an unrhythmic polyphonic singsong, shock Sango by announcing that they are prepared for another campaign. Sango does not consent, and although his harsh voice still predominates, his words are those of a plea. The warriors will not be dissuaded; they war Sango that he is risking a mutiny. Abruptly, they walk out on him.

As the soldiers depart, the townspeople make a second appearance; pressing further, through the council of chiefs, they present their initial demand that Sango put an end to the incessant warfare. The homage paid to Alaafin Sango this time carries a high degree of irony. Non-Yoruba audiences must have marveled over this salute by citizens who are no longer on good terms with their ruler. However, this song, rendered in the same manner as the first, is only a matter of protocol, rooted in the Yoruba pragmatics of politeness. Even sworn enemies swallow their bad blood and force out white spit when greetings are formally exchanged. In other words, the rebellion is still being nurtured. The proof of this comes in a matter of minutes, when Sango requests advice on how to get rid of his two erring, wrongheaded warriors. In an about-face, both kingmakers and citizens spitefully hurry out, charging him with the care and peace of Oyo and reminding him of the significance of posterity. Here the moderately slow tempo of Sango's singing and the pathetic quality of his voice is submerged by the rapid and reproachful voice of the citizens. This tense situation is relieved by Iwarefa, who chants Sango's praises. Suddenly, it dawns on Sango that his indulgence of the two warriors is the sole cause of this embarrassment: unwarranted familiarity, they say, breeds contempt. As a last resort, Sango turns to Oya, his favorite wife and confidante, for advice. Her approach is mainly candid and pragmatic. In her usually piercing voice, she suggests that Alaafin Sango send Timi to the frontier of the Oyo kingdom as gatekeeper of the border post at Ede, as there is a high probability that he will be killed by marauding bands of Ijesa people.

A loud heralding of Timi ushers him in. In another example of ironic civility, Sango sings his praise ("possessor of the arrow that triggers fire") and expresses gratitude for Timi's long devotion to duty. In compensation for this steadfastness, Sango says, he is sending Timi to Ede as gatekeeper. Every toll, in cash or kind, will be his; Sango's gesture is meant to make him a wealthy man. Passively, like Shakespeare's Hamlet, Timi accepts his new title and seemingly without apprehension moves to his supposed death trap. His song of acquiescence is echoed by the chorus of citizens.

Timi's promise to Sango of great news to come from Ede adds another element of irony, as Timi's next song and the subsequent action show. The song alludes to Ifa (the Yoruba divination corpus), in which it was predicted that Timi would be given a title. The tune he uses here fits the subject matter; it is a tune associated with Ifa divination chants (iyere Ifa). It is moderately slow and the intonation highly melodious. This song is performed in a call-and-response between Timi and his followers; the moderate tempo in the call alternates with the fast tempo of the response. As if sensing the speed at which news spreads, which could make his real intention known to Sango, Timi cautions his followers:

Don't say where I went.

The little bat never says where the big bat went.

Don't say where I went.

Don't say where I went.

Timi leaves for Ede and reaches the border in the third scene. There he renders an incantation, invoking the love of the Ede people. The rhythm is strict, as in any incantatory performance. Each utterance is echoed by the talking drum.

I have arrived in the town of Ede today!

It is the free-flowing wind that forces you (the Ede people) to

flow to me.

It is the Afondiyaya that forces you to trail me.

Erije is the father of Erije.(7)

Erije is the father of Erijeje.

It was divined that when the Ogburo pigeon parches,

All other birds must hearken.

Needles in multiples of two hundred,

The forked pole in multiples of two hundred prop up the

house.

The lizard in multiples of two hundred prop up the wall.

Let everyone prop me up.

The incantation is based on the logic that like begets like; the various allusions point to the support he seeks from the citizens of Ede. As if assured by the divine, Timi leads a can-and-response rendition of a folk song warning against contempt:

Any bird that fails to cultivate the friendship of the vulture

Let the net net them, dragging them to me.

Timi has no sooner arrived than he accepts the kingship of Ede, thus making a mile of the yard that Sango has afforded him. The open arms with which the Ede people receive him proves the efficacy of his incantation. The people assure him that all subsequent rulers of Ede will answer to the title of Timi Agbale (Agbale being a new lexical adoption indicating that Ede would henceforth be called Agbale). Jubilation and merriment follow, sustained by the interchange of restless bata beats and the stately rhythm of dundun drums and sekere (gourd rattles).

The scene shifts to Sango's palace, where the seemingly devoted citizens are found singing Sango's praises. The song is in measured tempo, each line governed by the strict time of the bata. The gathering is soon informed by a native gossip and alarmist of the enthronement of Timi in the vassal town of Ede. The implication is that Ede is now independent of the Oyo kingdom and that Timi now has the same status as the Alaafin. Sango seeks the counsel of the citizenry and they readily give it, in a tuneful chorus: that Gbonka be ordered to take up arms against Timi, as the death of one of the warriors is certain and the threat to Sango will thus be reduced. Gbonka is summoned and directed to bring Timi to Oyo dead or alive. To provoke his wrath against Timi, Sango flatters Gbonka, saying he should have been the rightful occupant of the post that Timi has usurped. As Gbonka dashes off, the beat changes from a slow rhythm to a fast, warlike tempo.

Gbonka's arrival at Ede through the thick forest brings us to the fifth of the opera's eight scenes. It is introduced by the piercing but sweet-sounding tune of the ogo (hunter's flute). As a strong believer in the efficacy of charms, Gbonka chooses to make his assault on Ede a war of nerves rather than one of might. He alerts the witches to his presence through an incantatory performance, seeking to subdue the spirit of Timi. The flute, which intones each line of the chant, plays the dual role of amplifying Gbonka's voice and evoking the pathos of the witches. In a shrill call of "Timi O!" repeated three times, the voice of the intended victim is heard to answer submissively. This portends an effortless victory for Gbonka. The prediction is fulfilled when Gbonka appears physically at Ede and lures Timi to sleep amid the festivities in which he and his subjects are engaged:

The grass that we place on the right palm remains ever there.

The one that we place on the left palm remains ever there.

The ifon sleeps endlessly ever.

The rafter remains in unbroken slumber ever.

Timi, sleeeep!

Without any physical contact between the opponents, Timi lies motionless on the bare ground.

The scene swiftly changes to Sango's palace, and Gbonka appears bearing the body of the slumbering Timi before the Alaafin, who is as dumbfounded as his baffled subjects. Without expressing any felicitations before Gbonka leaves, the nervous Sango inquires of his citizens what other strategy he might devise to get rid of the duo. They advise him to order that the fight be repeated in the market square to confirm Gbonka's supremacy. Gbonka is called in and informed accordingly Even though Sango's reason for a rematch makes him suspicious, he readily acquiesces. The town crier goes to work, beating his gong to win attention and informing the townspeople of the impending fight.

In the sixth scene, Gbonka resorts to the forest of the witches to seek divine intervention. The trip to the witches' enclave has been strenuous, but Gbonka's invocation is just as taxing, for the witches do not respond until he has called seven times:

You who eat meat from the inside

You who eat the heart from the liver,

This is my case, O O O, this is my case you elders.

This is the seventh time.

I say you should respond.(8)

The response to Gbonka's invocation is positive. The witches direct him to rapidly gather two kola nuts, the head of a dog, and the legs of a snake, then to pulverize them and apply the mixture to "appease" his head and his nose. The implication is that the potion gives protection against all machinations and that his ori (which literally means "head" but connotes the guardian angel or spiritual self) will restrain him from taking a dangerous path.

Gbonka returns to the market square and readies himself for the encounter. In the fight, Gbonka not only fells Timi effortlessly but butchers him in order to vanquish any controversy or doubt. The townspeople watch in total disbelief. Suddenly, Gbonka turns to confront Sango, accusing the Alaafin of plotting to silence him. As if to put to the test the efficacy of his charms, or perhaps his own invulnerability, Gbonka challenges Sango to prepare a bonfire and throw him into it. Fearing Gbonka has committed a suicidal blunder, the townspeople sing of his downfall, emphasizing that the price of contempt for or defiance of Sango's supremacy is humiliation:

He will be disgraced, he will be disgraced.

Whoever shows contempt for Sango,

He will be disgraced.

Gbonka is bundled up and thrown onto the bonfire. The result is astonishing: Gbonka is incombustible, like the biblical Shadrach and Abednego; he saunters out, unhurt. Then, pressing his advantage, Gbonka casts a contemptuous look on Sango and orders him to abdicate:

Sango, I wonder where you could find an escape.

Before five days, rise and move out

To the land of Tapa, the abode of your mother,

Where you were born.

This gives rise to a shocking development. The citizens, who should have resisted Gbonka's move, since it was they who advised Sango on this line of action, now turn against Sango, applauding Gbonka's order and insisting that the Alaafin must comply. In no time, the palace is deserted. Sango's abdication is inevitable -- surely a good riddance to tyranny.

The seventh scene is Sango's scene of remorse. It dawns on him that he is a tragic hero, better dead than having. He is only a shadow of himself. The subjects he has repeatedly dehumanized have now left him. Even the drums have deserted him. Sango's tragic flaw is hubris -- unwarranted pride and wrongheadedness. He has relegated his council of chiefs, carelessly flouting the dictates of tradition. Sango confesses that a good number of his chiefs have been killed on his orders. Ironically, it was his failure to carry his chiefs along with him that enabled Gbonka to topple him with ease. With the support of his council, no citizen would be uncontrollable and Gbonka would never in his right mind have dared to risk offending the menacing power of the Oyo Mesi and especially the Ogboni cult, when it was the same council that initially had protested the activities of Timi and Gbonka. Gbonka's contempt for and humiliation of Sango was prompted by the latter's inability to maintain a sense of neutrality at the scene of the duel; Sango's opening remark was that Gbonka deserved a defeat. This implies complicity with or favoritism toward Timi and goes against the grain of royalty. The boomerang effect of Sango's action is often expressed in the traditional wisdom as a situation in which the red-flanked duiker (esuro) being hunted by the dog (aja) swiftly turns to prey upon the dog.

Sango and Oya vacate the palace as if setting out on an endless journey, Sango's consolation being Qya's moral support in this trying period. But Sango is mistaken and gets a rude awakening: Qya defects, opting to return to her original home, Ira. The situation is unbearable. Sango cannot summon Job's patience and informs Qya that his only option is suicide. A duet follows, Sango singing of suicide and Qya dissuading, at the end of which Sango fulfills his intention and hangs himself on the ayan tree. Sango's means of dying is considered the most ridiculous among the Yoruba. People who die by suicide are not accorded conventional burial rites, nor are they buried among those who die conventional deaths. They are left to be feasted on by birds of prey. But it would have been more humiliating for Sango to have been directed to open the calabash by the Ogboni cult.

The last scene opens with a funeral dirge and an invocation of Sango. The ceremony is presided over by Sango's friend and head of the Sango devotees, the Mongba. The people express growing skepticism about Sango's second coming. The Mongba assures everyone that Sango will keep his word, for "Sango is the banana [tree] on the bank of the river, which, when cut down, springs up again!" Suddenly, thunder strikes, bringing everything to a standstill, and Sango's voice is heard echoing from above:

As I did for the king of Ara that made him to prosper

As I did for the king of Ajero that made him comfortable

As I did for the king of Ila Orangun that made his arena

peaceful,

It is Sango speaking.

Another thunderclap punctuates his speech, and the voice reechoes, revealing his deification and promising divine protection:

People of Oyo and Yorubaland,

Worship me from today on

And I shall support you.

The changeable nature of the citizenry is revealed once more, as they reverse the message of their initial song, that Sango did hang, and sing, "The king did not hang!" On this note, all exit and the opera concludes.

Beyond the surface level of the plot, some ideas and customs are at work that serve to illuminate peculiarities of some of the major characters' actions. An example is the place of praise-name poetry (oriki). Etymologically, oriki means "the hailing of the ori [head]." Ori here connotes the addressee's figure and his spiritual self, and the chanting of his oriki is intended to give him spiritual uplift, spurring him to act and perform feats of which he would normally not be capable. Sango's fitful movements, which at times culminate in near ecstasy, and his spewing fire are usually preceded by the rendition of his oriki.

The behavior of Gbonka and Timi indicates that they must be descended from the lineage of the Olukoyi, who are professional warriors. They cannot survive either economically or psychologically without going to war because the booty of war gives them economic sustenance while victory in war gives them professional satisfaction. This is why they cannot be dissuaded, even by Sango, from going to war in spite of the hue and cry of the people, who have suffered so much deprivation and death.

The case of Gbonka as a performer of magic or maker of charms shows an interpolation of two lineages, the Olukoyi and the Aagberi, who are professional medicine men. It thus does not surprise us that each of Gbonka's appearances in the opera is marked by the performance of some magical feat. Most of the time, he uses the spell called gbetugbetu, the potency of which is seen in the trance it induces in the victim, such as the sleep that overcomes Timi. Jeyifo's investigation (1984, 98-99) showed convincingly that Ladipo gave the role of Gbonka to Lamidi, whose father was an expert in charms. The incantation Timi recites before stepping onto the soil of Ede is called by the Yoruba afose ("let my command [or wish] be so"), and the reception accorded him on his arrival and his subsequent enthronement point to the power of ofo (incantation). When Gbonka cuts Timi down on the Oyo market square, it is an act of faithfulness; to do otherwise would have gone against the grain of his lineage of innate vengeance seekers.

Music in Qba Koso

The nature of Qba Koso is melogenic, that is, the melody and words are of equal importance. The operatic mode dictates this because the dramatic plot is sung to accompaniment throughout the opera. The variations in a given melody, appealing as they are in themselves, are worthy of comment because they illustrate the fact that in the African tradition there is absolute dependence on improvisation and residual knowledge of previously learned songs. This confirms Akin Euba's observation that "African traditional music is performed without notation" (1982, 232).

If the melogenic quality is characteristic of opera in general, the performance practices in this opera may be seen as peculiar to Qba Koso. The songs can be divided into the following categories: solo, duet, trio, chorus, and solo and chorus (responsorial). A ritualized variant of the responsorial performance is also employed. While the performance of a good number of the songs is chosen by the dramatist, in quite a few of them the purpose of the singer(s), the dictates of the culture, or the Yoruba tradition rules. Some illustration is necessary.

The instances of solo performance in Qba Koso are both direct address to another character, physically or spiritually, and self-address. In general these songs are slow or moderately slow because they are laden with emotion. In scene 1, Qya, shocked by the showdown between the warravished Oyo people and the nonchalant Alaafin Sango, sings to evoke Sango's sense of compassion, reiterating the people's complaint against Timi and Gbonka. The effect of the slow tempo is felt in Sango's immediate summoning of the warriors and his dissuasion of them. This solo is reprised later in a related but contrasting scene between the couple. It is scene 7, the occasion of Qya's desertion of Sango after Gbonka has forced him to abdicate. Sango, who has sought refuge in Qya's company, is baffled when she refuses to go further on the journey into exile. In her solo, Qya justifies her action by referring to her initial warning to Sango of the consequences of his high-handed treatment of his subjects. The first solo performance is an appeal, the second is a reproach and dismissal.

Two other examples of solo performance are found in the first scene. One is Timi's boastful exposition of his own character. He appears in response to Sango's loud call, but before he presents himself to Sango he indulges in self-revelation before the audience. The rendition, with no identifiable melody, can only be described as a declamation. Gbonka's own introductory solo follows Timi's, informing the audience of his invulnerability against any might, physical or supernatural.

Choral performance predominates in this opera. This is not surprising, since the theme of Qba Koso is the ousting of the tyrant, which is a community affair. The townspeople must speak in one voice, and they frequently come together as a group to express their opinion. The opera opens with the citizens coming on stage to salute Alaafin Sango and to inform him of their plight. This is the exposition. They also appear on other occasions to assess the situation, like the Greek chorus.

The responsorial performance is closely related to the choral in that both involve predominantly group renditions. The difference is that the responsorial involves an interchange between a soloist and the group in which the former's voice is punctuated by the interjections of the group or by a choral refrain. In scene 1, there is the chanting of the praise-names of Sango by the palace eunuch, Iwarefa, who pauses regularly to enable the chorus of townspeople to corroborate his claims. The chorus does this by declaring Sango's near-omnipotence through the use of epithets such as "Your majesty," "Lord of life and being," and "Commander, second to the gods!"

Other responsorial performances take the form of verbatim repetition of the lead singer's stanza by the chorus in refrain. In Timi's song after Sango grants him the power to collect tolls at the Ede border, the stanzas, which are partly in praise of Sango and partly words of acceptance, are repeated by Sango's wives in refrain. The same applies to the scene of dramatic resolution in scene 7. Sango's requiem, a single long stanza sung by Qya, is repeated by the wives and townspeople. Sango's deification ceremony, presided over by the Sango surrogate, the Mongba, is in the form of a call-and-response, although the response here is a simple expression of awe over Sango's transmutation, which is the Mongba's subject matter. This is achieved through vowel lengthening in the mono-syllable Huuuun! and consonant lengthening in the sound Hmmmmmm!

Set performance style is also found in this opera. As its name suggests, this kind of performance is a formulaic rendition that allows hardly any deviation from its historical structure. Three occurrences in Qba Koso are ritualistic in function, thus their rigidity. Gbonka is associated with two of them, and both of these are on the occasion of his communion with the witches in scene 5. The first is his invocation of the witches for the purpose of seeking assistance against the forces of Sango. The address is strictly incantatory; chants in this category are frozen in structure and in performance, lest they lose their potency. The second is the exchange between the senior witches and the lesser witches following Gbonka's request. Although its responsorial nature makes it also a group performance, it is set because of its resemblance to the Ifa incantatory chants (iyere Ifa).

Timi is the other character who uses the traditional form. In another ritualistic performance, he recites an incantation evoking the spirits of the Ede people to support him. Deviation is forbidden in the interest of the efficacy of the ritual. The achievement of Gbonka's purpose in his victories over Timi and even Alaafin Sango lends credence to the assertion of ritual infusion.

Musical Instruments

In view of the peculiarities of the musical instruments employed in this opera, either to the Yoruba culture or to the context of performance, it is imperative to highlight their forms and functions. Although instruments are often surrogates for human speech -- an assertion that is corroborated by the profuse use of the African talking drum in this play -- Qba Koso is at the same time a clear example of the integration of voice and instrument.

The instruments featured in Qba Koso can be classified into three categories: membranophones, idiophones, and aerophones. Membranophones are the most frequently used, appearing in virtually every scene. The Yoruba have three context-free sets of membraphones, namely, the dundun (talking drum) set, the bata (stammerer drum) set, and the sekere (gourd rattle) set. Three other sets, the igbin, the ipese, and the agere, are context bound to the rituals of Obatala (the Yoruba moulder god), Ifa (the god of divination), and Ogun (the god of iron and of war), respectively.

The dundun set comprises five double-headed drums -- iya ilu (the lead drum), gangan, kanango, isaju, and kerikeri -- and one single-headed drum, gudugudu (i. Except for the gudugudu, the drums in this set are essentially talking drums, which Walter Ong (1977, 411) described as "acoustic surrogates or sound substitutes for ordinary spoken words." This effect is achieved by using one hand to beat with a drumstick on the membrane and the other to apply varying amounts of pressure to the strong leather strings bound to the drum heads.

The bata set is made up of four drums: iya ilu (lead), emele abo (female), emele ako (male), and kudi. These drums are also double-membrane, although their bottom membranes are much smaller in diameter than the upper. These drums are also long and conical, unlike the wider cylindrical dundun sets. The bata is called "the stammerer" because it "talks" less accurately than the dundun. Also, the bata, is the tension, or high-pitched, drum and thus has less variety of tone than the dundun.

That these two sets, dundun and bata, feature greatly in the opera is in consonance with the cultural setting and the thematic preoccupation of the work. These drum sets are permanently stationed at important Yoruba palaces, especially that of the Alaafin, and they are handled by highly skilled drummers who also double at times as praise-singers (asunrara or akigbe) who drum to alert the Alaafin of the arrival of important visitors. But the dundun is not as prominent in the opera as the bata, solely because the dundun's contrasting pitches are not as relevant to the mood of the piece as the constant tension the bata evokes, climaxing at Sango's abdication and subsequent death. A good example is the scene in which Timi is sent to Ede, when each line of Timi's song in praise of Ifa is intoned by the talking drum. In the relaxed and jubilant scene of coronation, the sekere set is played in conjunction with the dundun lead drum.

The sekere percussion set, which is also common in the Oyo-Yoruba area, is featured only once in this opera, during Timi's investiture as king at Ede. This set is mostly used for ceremonial celebrations, which explains its silence during the scenes at Sango's palace, where there is no cause for merrymaking. The lead instrument of the set is the sekere (the big gourd), to the body of which are strung cowrie shells, whose contact with the dry gourd effects the desired percussive sound. Other instruments in the set are the aro (two thick iron rings), the koso (double-membrane drum), and the bembe (similar to a modern bass drum). The latter is never played during this opera.

The use of percussion idiophones is less prominent in Qba Koso and is dependent on other sets. For example, the aro mentioned above is used only with the sekere set. The agogo (bell percussion) is an instrument that may be used freely with other instruments or solo. In this opera it is played solo, on the occasion of the town crier's heralding of the royal order of the rematch between Timi and Gbonka in scene 7. This iron bell, which is beaten with a stick, is used to carry sound throughout the vicinity, a traditional method of disseminating information.

There is only a single appearance in the opera of an aerophone. This is when Gbonka plays the ogo (Yoruba hunter's flute) in the forest. It is a context-bound instrument, used only in ijala (Ogun invocatory chants). Gbonka's use of the ogo is symbolic; he employs it only when seeking divine intervention from the supernatural realm. Its piercing sound, wailing through the ethereal realm, captures the attention of the witches, who understand its meaning and respond.

Accompaniment is the linchpin in Qba Koso. The music in the piece is its great sustaining element, without which any performance is incomplete. In many cases it functions as interlude or relief, in others it necessarily accompanies symbolic actions. For example, the rendition of Sango's oriki (praise-song chant) is both preceded and followed by serious bata drumming. The effect is that while the oriki gives Sango a swelled head, the fitful drumming spurs him into fretful action and the spitting of flames. This is the effect of trance. Awe (1975) and Adelugba (1981) have carried out studies of this process. The thunder that accompanies Sango's divine voice in scene 8 is heralded by a stampede of bata drums to a crescendo, followed by abrupt silence. All the songs except the requiem for Sango are accompanied. Dirges are rarely accompanied among the Yoruba; drumming is considered inappropriate here because dirges are traditionally sung in a slow tempo. In addition, the dramatic action has subsided with the death of Sango, thus rendering the bata drumming irrelevant.

The dramatic movement enacted in the opera's eight scenes, the connections to ritual history, and the creative spaces filled by music are an responsible for the immeasurable success Qba Koso has enjoyed at home and abroad.

DISCOGRAPHY 

Ladipo, Duro. Qba Koso. Nigerian Cultural Records, 1971.

--. Eda. Nigerian Cultural Records, 1971.

INTERVIEWS

Chief Adefabi Akanbi (Sango surrogate [Mongba]), October 22, 1992, Kooso, Iseyin, Oyo State, Nigeria.

Madam Sangotayo (Sango female devotee [adosu]), October 24,1992, Apongba Compound, Igbo-Ora, Oyo State, Nigeria.

REFERENCES

Adedeji, J. A. 1970. Alarinjo: The traditional Yoruba travelling theatre. In Theatre in Africa, edited by Oyin Ogunba and Abiola Irele, 2749. Ibadan: University Press.

Adelugba, Dapo. 1981. Trance and theatre: The Nigerian experience. In Drama and theatre in Nigeria: A critical source book, edited by Yemi Ogunbiyi, 203-990. Lagos: Nigeria Magazine.

Awe, Bolanle. 1975. Notes on oriki and warfare in Yorubaland. In Yoruba oral tradition, edited by Wande Abimbola, 267-292. Ife African Languages and Literatures Series, no. 1. Ile-Ife: University of Ife Press.

Clark, Ebun. 1980. Hubert Ogunde: The making of Nigerian theatre. Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Courlander, Harold. 1973. Tales of Yoruba gods and heroes. New York: Crown.

Duro Ladipo: Teatro musical da nigeria. 1975. Program booklet, Oba Koso performance, January and February, Brazil.

Euba, Akin. 1982. Introduction to African music. In african history and culture, edited by

Richard Olaniyan, 224-236. Lagos: Longmans.

Jeyifo, Biodun. 1984. The Yoruba popular travelling theatre of Nigeria. Lagos: Department of Culture, Federal Ministry of Social Development, Youth, Sports and Culture.

Johnson, Samuel. [1920] 1973. The history of the Yorubas. Lagos: CSS Bookshops.

Ladipo, Duro. 1964. Three Yoruba plays: Qba koso, Qba moro, Qba waja. Translated by Ulli Beier.

Yoruba Collection of William and Berta Bascom, vol. 339. Ibadan, Nigeria: Mbari Productions.

--. 1972. Qba koso. Ibadan: Institute of African Studies, University of Ibadan. Ogunbiyi, Yemi, ed. 1981. The popular theatre: A tribute to Duro Ladipo. In Drama and theatre in Nigeria: A critical source book, edited by Yemi Ogunbiyi, 333-356. Lagos: Nigeria Magazine.

Ogundeji, R Adedotun. 1988. A semiotic study of Duro Ladipo's mythico-historical plays. Ph.D. diss., University of Ibadan.

Ong, Walter. 1977. African talking drums or oral noetics. New Literary History 8, no. 3:411-429.

Soyinka, Wole. 1988. Theatre in African traditional cultures: Survival patterns. In Art, dialogue outrage: Essays on literature and culture, 190-204. Ibadan: New Horn Press.

(1.) In Nigeria, the sequence is descending rather than ascending as in the United States.

(2.) "Church drama" in this sense does not imply the medieval meaning of the term. These church dramas are identical to operas in form, except that the plots are dominated by the story of the birth, life, and death of Jesus. The fact that the term "opera" is not used in this context may be connected to the connotation of opera as entertainment, which runs contrary to the didactic and instructive purpose of the church.

(3.) Dates of the stageplays, provided when known, are those of publication. The exact dates of composition for many of Ladipo's works are not known. Some of them have never been published but remain in manuscript. The dates given for radio and television plays are the years of production.

(4.) Oya-Oro was the nineteenth-century name of the kingdom. The present kingdom, called Oyo-Ile, is ruled by the Alaafin Adeyemi III, who also chairs the Oyo State Traditional Council.

(5.) Esu, or Kogila, is a near equivalent to the Christian Devil or the Muslim Shaitan.

(6.) Johnson ([1920) 1973, 151) made a different claim, stating that Sango did hang; however, no other source has confirmed this version.

(7.) The word "Erije," varied in tone and syllable length, is a play on words through tonal contrast and tonal counterpoint for sound effect.

(8.) Seven is a potent number in Yoruba magic and medicine. The other powerful numbers are three, nine, and twenty-one. The more deadly the charm, the higher the number.