The first illumination.
Unsurprisingly, Asizwe, near Bakongo, never gets enough credit for his masonry. But more on that later. We are, after all, explaining the reasons the institution of the Alaafin holds such fascination to those
spirits with the ability to retrieve history's subtlest innuendo.
So, and in this regard, Prince Aromolarun's metallurgy and his being "omo Ogun" divert our sensibilities and give us a view of Alaafin Shango's merin-dilogun methodology.
We have become sure, utilizing any variety of examination, that security is the initial exigency of a collective. The use of metals to assure such can be viewed multi-dimensionally, as, of course, can the use of stone. The charge maintains that Azanian civilizations, Pharaonic Egypt aside, are by-and-large distinguished by a lack of sophistication in masonry. Yet, it is true that even this lack of sophistication in masonry must only have yielded an overcompensation in other areas.
To this end we tackle the concept embedded at the heart of Western Azania in those early days,
migration. Because we have a metric, masonry, to date Western Azanian civilizations of that era in light of the process of growth and decline of civilizations of note, we can suggest that Ade-tun-reh's domain, but just generations removed from Alaafin Shango's, was not "in the know" as regards the legend of the young boy and "Banubian Astronometry."
But, and this is unmistakable, the trip to the "big-city" is central to understanding the role of pre-renaissance Mecca, Morocco, and other centers of civilization of that era that attracted the attention of indigenes of the Lokoja settlements and trading cities south.
It is undeniable that, since security was the major exigency, and since masonry was at the more infant stages of Azanian thought, protocols existed for the safe passage of designated
citizens of General Oduduwa's domains and beyond. These united kingdoms were bound together by socio-economic sensibilities and held tight by the cultural representation of the very protocols themselves.
On the outskirts of this Kingdom were "Banubia" to the East and "Morocco" to the North. Obviously, then, a knowledge base also existed for the safe passage of citizens of General Oduduwa's domains once in Morocco or Banubia. This knowledge base, clearly, expanded
with each traversal of culture and space, and Alaafin's Shango's merin-dilogun system hold the keys to elevating our understanding of how order was preserved at the peak of the civilization.
We continue our look into Ajantala's movements and now see the relevance of information storage, such as is at the heart of any civilization, whether it is able to sustain its growth or whether it peaks and is unable to adequately counter the wear and tear that comes with the
constant improvement of a knowledge system.
Ajantala's arrival in Ade-tun-reh's domain was heralded, first by incessant rumors of a mighty warrior with eight heads and the breath of fire, "in whose eyes lived the stars." And then, you
guessed it, by a preponderance of gold-embroidered linen. By the time he made it to the large trading city near Ile-Ogbomosho, there was not enough skin for the talking drums to tell the story of this great Son of Oduduwa whose fame had taken his Great-grandfather to Mecca
and brought this mighty descendant back safely.
Ade-tun-reh, threatened in his bid to become the next Alaafin, was obviously uneasy
about this. But Baba Ibn-Ajantala, at least of his own admission, was no threat to Ade-tun-reh. He had only returned to be of service. Nothing more. But his gold sword told a different story.
It was this sword that gave him the name "Oro-emi-Aiyeni"--the wisest of the poets whose words speak life into being. The Alaafin had given no such sword to anyone else, so, Ajantala's authority and decision-making capacity were not in question.
In order to keep the population happy, for they had taken to Ajantala, Ade-tun-reh was forced to create sixteen "reflections of the sun" in the sixteen major trading cities surrounding the royal settlement. These Baale's would have all the decision-making capabilities regulated by Ajantala. This is to say that the expanse of their abilities would be based upon Baale Ajantala's.
Ajantala's own administrative domain was Ikpe-Otumodun, near Ile-Ife, and here he would administer for five years, creating the largest and most affluent of all the trading cities, rivaling the Alaafin's power in foreign affairs. It is worth our while, then, to study Ajantala's administrative and political skills, for during his reign the entire Kingdom, and largely due to his prowess, enjoyed unparalleled success and stability, expanding even all the way towards Morocco.
By now you have surely heard the spirits whisper of Ajantala that he was the "renaissance man" of that era. It is no secret, however, that being born "on the way home from the big city," the
Alaafin's Chiefs were concerned that he was only an "honorary son of Oduduwa." But this fallacy is put to rest if we consider that it was his great-great-great-grandfather that Alaafin Shango took under his wing and personally tutored on how to be a "worthy ambassador" of The Kingdom. That his own great-grandfather eventually made it to Mecca speaks volumes of Ibn-Ajantala's lineage.
Eventually, passionate tales of the days of glory of Chiefs gone by, the glitter in their
character, these are the preserve of ubiquitous griots, telling of the greatness of this and that--ancient spirits jostling for position in the book of life.
And so, then, on this score, we must be beset with surety that we are indeed without question. Ajantala's knowledge of "merin-dilogun" could only have come from a pure, if not eerily lucid,
in-depth impartation of this knowledge upon him. And his story is no secret. His story is no secret.
Ajantala's five hands open up the keys to how he ran his domain. Ikpe-Otumodun.
It is the quiet beating of a bata drum that provides the opportunity for order where chaos might have found a nesting place. The first hand he used for beating his drum every morning. It
was a tune he enjoyed, his little secret. Before anyone was up, but the Royal Guards, Ajantala was up beating this quiet drum.
The drum told the drummers in the towns that over each family flew a bird. And that the birds gathered near a big tree after the olodus, the highest of all astronometrists, had seen the appropriate heavenly sign. At this tree would these birds discuss those very things that were exactly relevant at the time. The citizens of the royal settlement, however, used the ceremonial harvest as a metric of importance. It was administering this delicate balance that earned
Ajantala his reputation as the keeper of his royal line.
In all his time, Ajantala and his entourage were able to create, preserve and maintain order. For the young ones, seeing this in one's lifetime can be an interesting experience. The forest Chiefs did have to think about these things, because of Eze. Prince Eze. Yet, the contention
over Eze's glyphs, the staff or walking stick, the cap, and then the creature that might be a large bird, allow us observe the vast difference between the Banubian Astronometry and Ajantala's
merin-dilogun system.
Ajantala's merin-dilogun system took into account the nature of a corporate entity, while Eze's was entirely concerned with the value of talent. And here we find the link to Alaafin Shango. His glyphs emphasize, among a robust compilation of other indices, ordered merit systems. In this regard, attempting to personalize the glyphs of men such as these may sometimes be seen as a socio-economic activity worth understanding.
Because the olodus had been sharpening their skills continuously, the most recognizably accurate olodu was Ajantala's chief guard. This, as you might imagine, constituted something that could have been chaos had not both Ajantala and his chief olodu had to continue to sharpen their divination skills. It is recorded in history that the one time any hint that progress did not occur in this wise suggested itself, the entire region surrounding the two men regressed in time.
That aside, the forest birds often suggested that this progress had to be sustainable. That the entire region had to progress by introducing more accurate olodus until order was attained in relation to the value of the culture. Ajantala cautiously smiles when we mention "manrun." He looks incredulously and wonders if it is true that a "forest Chief" can be that intelligent.
"It really was all about data," he sighs, almost whimsically. "I had to establish a Kingdom where not only near-chaos reigned, but this near-chaos was actually the carcass of an old system."
Incredulously he looks, again, but this time, he is leaning towards a crow and wondering. "Can a forest Chief be this intelligent?" The bird whispers to him that they can, then he adjusts his sunglasses.
The aroma of his pipe fills the space, soon, and the European man with sun glasses sips on a Fanta through a straw, pen and pad in his hand. He mutters the words, "can a forest Chief be this intelligent?" then writes them down.
Data. Efficiency. Communication. Just how accurate where the olodus of Ajantala's time?
The big men these days, they blow winds here and there. The deserts of Kano are full of tales of the Old Empire. But no one will want to tackle the olodus. How accurate were the olodus? If they understood data, how accurate is that? If they understood data and information, how accurate is that? If they understood data and information and communication, how accurate is
that? Was there a chance in history that one forest Chief could have been that intelligent? And his second-in-command that intelligent?
The reasons for Ajantala's five hands give economic historians access into Ikpe-Otomodun--the land where the beating bata drum told the heartbeat of the day.
We will continue this discussion.
Guides
