In the turbulent years of old Oyo Empire, when commerce flourished alongside violence, Apòmú now in present day Osun State stood as one of Yorubaland’s busiest commercial centres. Traders from far and near converged on its famous market, making the town a strategic hub in regional commerce. Historical accounts even trace the roots of the Owu Ijebu conflict to tensions linked with activities around the Apòmú market.
Yet prosperity came with danger. Kidnapping, slave raids and marauding attacks became rampant along trade routes connecting Oyo and Ife territories. The situation deteriorated so badly that traders from Oyo reportedly abandoned journeys to Apòmú out of fear for their safety.
Disturbed by the worsening insecurity, Alaafin Abíódún Adégóròlú was said to have sent stern messages to both the Ooni of Ife and the Olówu, demanding urgent action within their domains. Orders subsequently reached the Baálẹ̀ of Apòmú, who immediately moved to restore order.
Then came the incident that would alter the destiny of the town.
One day, the Baálẹ̀ received a troubling report that an Oyo prince had allegedly sold his own companion to slave merchants. Shocked by the development, he swiftly organised a search party. The victim was eventually rescued at a location now remembered as Àpáta Òdájú, “the cruel rock.”
Investigations later identified the accused prince as Aólẹ̀, a member of the Oyo royal household. Summoned before the Baálẹ̀, the prince reportedly appeared arrogant and unrepentant. Though reluctant to impose severe punishment on an Akéyò, an Oyo prince, the Baálẹ̀ nevertheless ordered that he be flogged.
What appeared at first like a joke soon turned into humiliation for the prince as lashes descended on his back. Enraged and disgraced, Aólẹ̀ reportedly swore revenge.
Fate, however, soon placed power in his hands.
Following the death of Alaafin Abíódún, Aólẹ̀ ascended the throne as Alaafin. His first major act, according to oral tradition, was to send an àròkò ogun, a symbolic declaration of war, to the Baálẹ̀ of Apòmú through an emissary known as Agbeni Má F’ọ̀hún. The message was simple and terrifying: surrender within seven days or face destruction.
Fear gripped Apòmú.
The Baálẹ̀ understood the weight of Oyo’s military might and realised the town could hardly survive a full scale assault from the empire. While the king’s emissary and his wife lodged near the town entrance, the Baálẹ̀ reportedly made desperate attempts to seek refuge or intervention from the Ooni’s palace, but to no avail. The offence, after all, was against the Alaafin himself.
Each passing day deepened the tension.
At intervals, the Oníbodè Apòmú, the town’s border guard, would ask the emissary, “Ìlọ yá àbí?” meaning, “Are you ready to leave now?” And each time, Agbeni would reply, “Ìlọ kò yá,” meaning, “No, I am not ready.”
On the sixth day, the inevitable happened.
Unable to watch his people perish in war, the Baálẹ̀ made the ultimate sacrifice. According to legend, he took his own life to save Apòmú from destruction. His severed head was placed in a calabash and handed over to Agbeni as proof of submission to the Alaafin.
But tragedy did not end there.
Before Agbeni could depart, angry residents of Apòmú reportedly destroyed his lodge and sold his wife into slavery in retaliation for the mission he carried. Devastated and confused, the emissary turned to Ifá for guidance, bringing out his òpèlè divination chain. In a cruel twist, a dog suddenly appeared and ran away with it.
It was at that moment that the Oníbodè approached him once more and asked the now famous question:
“Agbeni, ìlọ yá àbí?”
Broken by grief and misfortune, Agbeni finally answered:
“Ìlọ yá oo, Oníbodè Apòmú.”
That dramatic exchange eventually birthed the enduring Yoruba proverb:
“Ìlọ yá Oníbodè Àpòmú; wọ́n kó ni’fá, wọ́n gbà l’obìnrin, ọ̀pẹ̀lẹ́ tí yóò tún fi tọ ẹsẹ̀ rẹ̀ ajá tún gbé lọ. Wọ́n ní, ‘Ìlọ yá àbí kò yá?’ Ó ní, ‘Ìlọ yá.’”
Loosely translated, the proverb reflects a state of overwhelming loss and hopelessness, when every support system has collapsed and one has no choice but to surrender to fate.
Beyond folklore, the story remains a haunting reflection on power, vengeance, sacrifice and the heavy burden leadership sometimes demands.
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