In Yoruba land, the birth of twins is a sacred event and a divine gift that transforms a home. As the late Kayode Fasola sang in his soulful melody, “Ti mo ba bi ejire, inu mi a dun o”—if I birth twins, my heart will sing with joy. The arrival of ejire, the twins, is heralded with the oriki chant: “Ejire to wole, alakisa to so o d’onigba aso”—twins who enter the home, turning rags to riches, weaving prosperity into the family’s fabric. A mother’s name shifts from, say, “Mama Bola” to Iya Ibeji, the revered mother of twins, her identity forever tied to this sacred duality. Yet, beneath this celebration lies a timeless Yoruba debate: who is the elder, Taiwo or Kehinde?
Yoruba cosmology offers a vivid lens for this conflict. Taiwo, the first to emerge, bears a name meaning “the one who tastes the world” or Tayelolu—“Taye is the Lord.” Taiwo is the scout, the pioneer sent to test the waters of existence. Kehinde, the second to arrive, is “the one who comes after,” their name suggesting a deeper wisdom, a quiet authority. The proverb “Akeyinde gba egbon”—the one who comes last claims the elder—captures the belief that Kehinde, in divine patience, sent Taiwo ahead as an emissary, retaining the mantle of leadership. This notion is reinforced in the saying “Kehinde ni baba, Taiwo ni omo”—Kehinde is the father, Taiwo the child—tilting the scales toward Kehinde’s supremacy.
Yet, Taiwo’s name, Tayelolu, asserts its own claim, suggesting lordship and primacy. The very meaning contests Kehinde’s assumed eldership, sparking a debate that has echoed through generations. Yoruba elders, gathered under ancient iroko trees, have long wrestled with this question. Wole Soyinka, in his acclaimed autobiographical memoir “Aké: The Years of Childhood” (1981), recounts cultural beliefs and practices surrounding twins in Yoruba society - “The villagers believed twins brought prosperity to a household and would hold elaborate naming and blessing ceremonies, for their spirits were thought to be linked with divine forces.”
This reverence is echoed by Amos Tutuola, in his classic novel “The Palm-Wine Drinkard” (1952) “And there appeared two spirits alike in form and voice, who spoke with one tongue but had two hearts.”
Yet, the question of eldership persists, a riddle woven into proverbs and songs.
Consider the Apala maestro Ayinla Omowura, whose song “Ibeji lo l’aye, ibeji lo l’owo”—twins own the world, twins own wealth—extols their divine favor. While the song unites the twins in glory, the cultural narrative often leans toward Kehinde’s wisdom. The proverb “Kehinde ni egbon, Taiwo ni aburo”—Kehinde is the elder, Taiwo the younger—seems to settle the matter for some. Elders cite this to affirm Kehinde’s authority, arguing that the one who waits, who sends the other forth, holds the true mantle of leadership. Yet, Taiwo’s supporters counter that the first to greet the world, to bear the name Tayelolu, embodies the boldness of an elder.
This conflict, though spirited, is but a fleeting shadow in the radiance of twins’ presence. During the Odun Ibeji, the festival of twins, communities gather amidst bata drums and the aroma of Beans and palm kernel oil. Here, the debate takes on a festive air, with voices rising in song and laughter. The oriki resounds, praising the twins’ indelible mark on their people. In these moments, the question of eldership feels ephemeral, overshadowed by the unity of ejire. As the proverb declares, “Ibeji ni orisun ayo”—twins are the source of joy. Their presence is a divine gift, eternally cherished, their bond transcending any contest of primacy.
In the end, the Yoruba embrace both Taiwo and Kehinde, not as rivals but as two halves of a sacred whole. The debate, though rooted in proverbs and songs, serves only to deepen the reverence for twins, whose arrival heralds joy and transforms the world they touch.
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