For a masquerade, the Oloolu is ritually stern and unforgiving. At least to the people of Ibadan, Oyo State. Left to its initiates, it is constitutionally immune, thus beyond reproach.
Fusing gothic ritualism with hieratic deterrence, the Oloolu’s expressiveness commands the grotesque, as evidenced by the grisly fate of Wasilat Olalere, a young TikToker.
In a viral clip, Wasilat sits morosely, swathed in a ceremonial red wrapper with her shoulders bare. An equally distraught female, identified as her mother, is seen shaving her head while she despondently responds to questions from an Oloolu initiate.
Previously, she was forced to carry a sacrificial goat through the streets of Ibadan. Her alleged offense was filming with her smartphone and posting on Tiktok, a street procession connected to the Oloolu masquerade.
Rumour had it that Wasilat submitted herself for ‘cleansing’ and ‘atonement’ rites after suffering a ‘spiritual bleeding’ crisis. But Wasilat later disputed this, claiming it was a scripted narrative. Wasilat, following her ‘confession,’ swiftly withdrew her claim, alleging that she had been coerced and extorted of N400,000. The Olubadan’s palace had previously clarified through Chief Adeola Oloko that Wasilat did not record the masquerade but mistakenly captured the Alawo Oloolu, a traditional figure associated with the festival.
Oloolu’s devotees argue that public reaction has so far been triggered by a misunderstanding of the incident. Their preferred response to the masquerade’s procession would be: abject fear. Considered to be the most feared ancestral Egungun (masquerade) in Oyo, the Oloolu is deified by its devotees as a benefactor capable of gifting them fertility and economic prosperity, but its public appearances are strictly policed by a framework of supernatural taboos and rituals.
Its physical appearance is deliberately designed to evoke dread as its primary costume forms a towering, elongated pyramid made from a patchwork of multicolored, heavy clothing and intricate netting.
The most defining and chilling feature of the masquerade, however, is its macabre crown: the actual bleached skull of a woman attached to the apex of the headpiece. As the masquerade moves, the bearer prominently displays a human thigh bone, reinforcing its historical connection to war and mortality. According to oral history, during an ancient war, a renowned warrior named Ayorinde Aje captured an opposing town’s Oloolu masquerade bearer.
The bearer’s wife refused to let her husband be taken away, and in a fit of rage, Ayorinde Aje beheaded the woman and ordered that her skull be permanently attached to the top of the costume. This allegedly informs why women are forbidden from looking at it. As the Oloolu’s procession meanders through Ibadan, no other masquerade dares cross its path.
Before its procession begins, the Olubadan of Ibadan issues a public decree that directs all women, commercial photographers and videographers to clear out of the procession areas. It is believed that if a woman views the Oloolu, she will experience immediate cessation of her menstruation or a continuous, unexplained internal bleeding. The traditional cleansing as was the case with Wasilat, requires bringing the victim to the Oloolu shrine for a rite that involves shaving the victim’s head completely with razor blade, dressing her in a ritual red garb, presenting sacrifices of rams, goats, and giant African snails to appease the ancestral spirits, and having the person circle the Ogun shrine.
Yet, no matter how sacred a tradition is deemed, it mustn’t violate Nigerian laws. The actions of the Oloolu custodians, allegedly extorting a citizen and forcing her to shave her head as an atonement rite, cannot be excused as ‘cultural preservation.’ Such misdeeds are constitutionally classified as assault, illegal restraint, and extortion.
Culture thrives as an informal societal norm incapable of functioning as an independent justice system. And when a traditional institution deploys public humiliation and financial exploitation to enforce its rules, it shows weakness rather than authority. If a cultural boundary is crossed, traditional leaders should explore civil dialogue or legal means, rather than resorting to vigilantism.
The Oyo State Police Command’s statement that it received ‘no formal report’ reflects a failure of public duty. When evidence of physical abuse and extortion is broadcast to millions online, law enforcement needs no formal complaint to start an investigation. By treating this as a private community matter, the state passively allows local shrines to operate outside the law. This sets a problematic precedent, suggesting that constitutional rights of certain classes of citizens are not guaranteed.
Would the Oloolu’s custodians, for all their sternness, exert such a penalty if the errant female were the daughter of an incumbent governor, the Inspector General of Police (IGP) or European envoy?
Should culture and religion exploit fear? The Oloolu’s devotees must understand that for all their bid to assert the masquerade’s fearful, warlike roots, it is preferable to court love, goodwill and tolerance of non-devotees in particular.
Fear, when arbitrarily exploited eventually casts a culture or tradition as something to be dreaded. This has often been the Achilles heel of many a zealot chanting creed or slogan to instill fear. Neither tradition nor religion must be weaponised into a vampire of social or political order. Yet, each persists, from time to time, as either a temptress whose seductive wile both entices and warns away, or a benefactor swathed in craven brutality.
While Wasilat’s harsh experience must be condemned, her actions also highlight a significant lack of situational awareness characteristic of the digital generation. Driven by the desire for increased social media views and engagement, many content creators view the physical world simply as a background for their next post.
But like Wasilat, many of them would find that while freedom of expression is a fundamental right, it does not grant unlimited access to every space. Agreed, she did not deserve to be maltreated, but her choice to record a restricted cultural event was reckless. Now, she appreciates that despite the false sense of security gifted by the internet, a smartphone screen protects no one from real-world consequences. Her ordeal shows that physical spaces have real boundaries, and failing to respect them can lead to unpredictable reactions.
To prevent these kinds of conflicts in the future, individuals and cultural institutions must adopt a more balanced approach that combines clear public regulations with digital self-restraint. Also, the state must investigate and prosecute those who deploy physical force and extortion to enforce tradition. This will send a clear message that local customs are secondary to national laws.
Traditional institutions must learn to adopt modern crowd-control methods; using clear signs, security barriers, and public announcements during festivals is far more effective than punishing people after a violation occurs.
The government must also actualise stricter enforcement of digital privacy regulations. Recording individuals or sensitive cultural spaces without consent should carry clear legal penalties. When content creators face financial or legal consequences for violating privacy, the tendency to chase internet fame at all costs will likely decrease.
Wasilat’s ordeal, whatever the truth eventually revealed, should not be reduced to arrant gossip or momentary spectacle. The incident signposts a deeper malaise: a society caught in an aggressive digital culture that respects no boundaries and a terrifying traditional system that enforces its rules through intimidation.
But much as we urge traditional institutions to respect human rights and the rule of law, netizens must equally learn to use technology with greater restraint and respect for the people and spaces around them.