The Tale of Oníbodè Lálúpọn and the Dundun Drummer

Long ago, in the ancient city of Ibadan, famed for its warriors and sprawling hills, there lived a gatekeeper-warrior stationed in the outskirts of the city, in a settlement known as Lálúpọn on the way to Ìwó. His duty was clear: to watch the road, collect tolls, and guard the passage of traders and travellers entering and leaving Ibadan. Because of this important task, people called him Oníbodè Lálúpọn; the Gatekeeper of Lálúpọn.

Though he was not particularly comely, Oníbodè was respected, feared, and wealthy. Traders returning from distant markets paid their dues into his hands, and he in turn maintained peace on the busy route.

In the same region lived a cheerful dùndún drummer, a man who journeyed from town to town bringing music, praise, and merriment wherever his talking drum echoed. He was one of those rare souls who could coax human speech out of leather and wood.

Whenever the drummer passed through Lálúpọn, he never failed to stop before the warrior’s post. There, he would play special rhythms to honor Oníbodè. The warrior loved these performances so much that he rewarded the drummer generously with money, cloths, kolanuts, and sometimes even livestock. Among all the drummer’s styles, there was one particular talking-drum rhythm that thrilled the warrior the most; whenever the drummer desired a blessing, he played that rhythm, and the warrior’s heart would melt.

But not everyone rejoiced in this friendship.

Soon, a group of jealous, wicked men began plotting to destroy the bond between the warrior and the drummer. They whispered poisonous lies, claiming that the drummer was mocking the warrior each time he played.

At first, Oníbodè Lálúpọn dismissed the accusations.
“No,” he said, “the drummer has done me no wrong. He honours me. Why would he abuse me?”

But the wicked men pressed further. They told him that what the talking drum truly said was:

“Ẹ wẹnu ìmàdò, ẹ wẹnu àáyá, ẹ wá wẹnu Oníbodè Lálúpọn.”
“Look at the mouth of a warthog, look at the mouth of a monkey, now look at the mouth of Oníbodè Lálúpọn.”

Hearing this, the warrior’s pride burned in his chest. Rage clouded his mind, and in his anger he agreed to punish the “ungrateful” drummer. The conspirators rejoiced; their mischief had succeeded.

One day, as fate would have it, the drummer returned from a long journey. From afar, he saw Oníbodè Lálúpọn standing at his post and joyfully launched into the special rhythm—the very one he knew the warrior cherished. But instead of smiles, showers of gifts, and warm greetings, he received a different welcome.

Oníbodè descended on him with heavy blows.

The drummer was beaten, thrown to the ground, and his clothes torn to pieces. Confused and gasping, he cried out:

“Baba! What is my offence? What have I done?”

The warrior told him the alleged insult.
But the moment the drummer heard the claim, he shouted in shock:

“Ha! That is not what the drum says at all!”

He explained that the real message of his talking drum was:

“Mo jẹun Ìbàdàn, mo jẹun Ìwó, mo wá jẹun Oníbodè Lálúpọn.”
“I ate well in Ibadan, I was honoured in Iwo, and now I have come to be blessed by the Gatekeeper of Lálúpọn.”

The warrior froze. Slowly, like mist lifting from a hilltop, the truth dawned on him. Shame washed over him. He realized the wicked men had manipulated him into harming a loyal friend.

He helped the battered drummer to his feet, apologized deeply, and said:

“Àwọn ènìyàn ayé ni wọ́n kọ́ mí sí ọ.”
People of this world misled me into this evil against you.”

To make amends, he compensated the drummer with even greater gifts than before and restored their friendship.

From that day, a lesson spread across Yorùbáland:
Only the drummer truly knows what the talking drum is saying.
It is easy for outsiders to misinterpret its message, for the drum speaks a language only its master fully understands.

Thus came the saying:

“Kò sí ẹni tó mọ̀ èdè Àyàn bí ẹni tó mú pọ̀pá ẹ̀ lọ́wọ́.”
No one understands the language of the talking drum more than the one who holds its handle.

Cheers.

Immortal Stories of Alàgbà Adebayo Faleti.

Translated and retold by Bode Oje
©Bode Oje