On Rainmaking, Modernity and Indigenous Knowledge Systems

 Recently I stumbled upon Niyi Akinmolayan’s documentary Rainmakers where, with Ade Obatoyinbo, he explored the phenomenon of “rainmaking” and “rainholding” amongst the Yoruba of Ogun and Oyo, including a guild of indigenous medicine men from Edo State who also moonlight as rainmakers.

I was especially struck by the mystical undertones of rainmaking in these places, particularly amongst the Ṣàngó devotees of Oyo town. While they acknowledged some uncertainty regarding the nature of rainmaking—since the outcome of their work is dependent on Ṣàngó’s good pleasure—there remained aspects of the practice shrouded in mystery, something Akinmolayan did not really explore in the documentary.

One would have expected some exploration of how rainmaking itself supposedly works. Is it simply the use of locally acquired and transmitted ecological observations? Fortuitous timing of rainmaking rituals? The use of chemicals capable of disrupting aspects of the hydrological cycle? Mythic meaning-making? Et cetera.

The story of rainmaking amongst the Yoruba is a fascinating one. 

Apparently Ọ̀rúnmìlà had planned  to  throw a  party  for  his  401 irúnmolè friends. Naturally in a Yoruba story, his enemies heard about this and vowed to do their best and ensure such a party never holds. Their plan was to employ the service  of rain so the party cannot hold and Ọ̀rúnmìlà  unable to jiggy-jagga.   Ọ̀rúnmìlà however being the boss man Yoruba demon that he is told everyone his party was going to hold.

On the day of the party, Ọ̀rúnmìlà gathered materials such as imí ọjọ́ (sulphur), òrí (shea butter) and  opón ifá ( ifa divination tray).

He ground the sulphur, spread this on his divination tray, then  impressed the pattern of two odùs (òtúrá méjì and ìká méjì) on this and he put the shea butter in between these two verses.

Subsequently, he took this to his courtyard, and began to chant:

A mó roro lorúko tí àn pe ọjọ́,

Ẹ̀ dà gìrìgìrì wọ jà lorúko tí àn pe òjò,  

A dí fá fún Ọ̀rúnmìlà lọ́ jọ́ tí Ọ̀rúnmìlà fẹ́ se ìnáwó fún àwon òkànlénírinwó irúnmọlẹ̀

Àwọn ọ̀tá Ọ̀rúnmìlà ní ìnáwó rẹ̀ kò ní ṣe ṣe

Wón ní tó bá sé se èjì ni won á fi bàjé       

Òrúnmìlà ní yó ṣe ṣe torí

amó roro tí se ọjọ́ ọ̀rẹ́ mi ní se

Ẹ̀ dà gìrìgìrì wọ ‘jà tí se òjò ọ̀rẹ́ mi ní se

A mó roro ìwọ ni mo pè loni o 

Ẹ̀ dà gìrìgìrì wo jà, èmi o pè o loni

Imí ọjọ́ ní àbúrò òrùn

Ní ọjọ́ tí òrí bá yọ́ kan imì ọjọ́                  

Ní ọjọ́ náà ni òrùn ran, 

Ní ọjọ́ tí órún bà ràn ni òrí n yọ́,                 

Ẹ̀là gbòrùn, ìwo ni mo pè ló ní o      

Ẹ̀là gbòrùn, ìwo ni mo pè ló ní o    

Ẹ̀là gbòrùn, ìwo ni mo pè ló ní o    

Ẹ̀ dà gìrìgìrì wọ ọjà mi ò pè ó lóní o

Kí ìwọ òjò kí o rèé máa rọ̀ sí igbó àti ijù

Kí o rèé máa rọ̀ sí ibòmírìn

Ò tú ra ìká, wá lo rèé ká òjò ní lè lónìí;      

Kó tú ká, kó mà lọ rèé rọ̀ọ̀ sí igbó 

kóo máa lọ rèée rọ̀ọ̀ sí júu.

Crystal clear is the name by which the day is called

The disorderly rush into the market is what the rain is called 

We divined Ifa for Orunmila

on the day he was to host a feast for the 401 spirit beings

The enemies of Ọ̀rúnmìlà vowed his party would not hold

That if it does, they would disrupt it with rain

Orunmila said the party would hold because

Crystal clear which is the day is my friend

The disorderly rush into the market which is rain is my friend

I call on you today the clear as crystal 

I do not call on the disorderly rush into the market

Sulphur is the sun’s younger sibling

When sheabutter melts and gets in contact with sulphur 

That is the day the sun shines

Sheabutter melts when the sun shines

The bright sun I call on you today

The bright sun I call on you today

The bright sun I call on you today

Disorderly rush into the market I do not call on you today

You rain; go and fall in the forest and the thick bush

Go and rain elsewhere

Ò tú ra ìká go and hold the rain in his home today

Let the rain be dispersed to the forest and thick bush

Following this he placed the tray on top of his roof and thus forestalled the rain! Party held, the drummers drummed, the dancers danced, Rice and Soup was Very Plenty and palm wine flowed like water.

This mythic poetry is a beautiful use of language, intonations, rhyme and symbolism and its beauty is best enjoyed with some facility in the Yoruba language.

Over the years, rainmaking especially amongst the Yoruba have acquired a plethora of “magical” elements with the use of  àfọ̀ṣẹ, herbs, incantations and other rituals only known to practitioners.

These ritual undertones are not, however, unique to rainmaking—or indeed to African indigenous knowledge systems. They are a worldwide phenomenon. Every guild, in its attempt to gatekeep specialised knowledge and skill, creates around itself certain rituals known only to practitioners. Such systems create the “ins” and the “outs.” This may include the use of obscure language (like lawyers speaking antiquated Latin), doctors in their white coats, the special uniforms worn by soldiers, judges, and clergymen, all of which distinguish the awo (the initiated) from the ọ̀gbẹ̀rì (the uninitiated).

There are at least two important things to note here.

Firstly, because the entire enterprise is steeped in mysticism and ritual, the objective and empirical elements become inseparable from religion. With the advent of modernisation and proselytisation, converts and modern people often discard the whole system wholesale as mere superstition. But once the ritual forms and religious aspects are rejected, the technical knowledge embedded within them (where this actually exists) is frequently lost as well.

Secondly, a new generation will emerge fascinated by these indigenous knowledge systems and begin to assume that accepting whatever objective truths they contain necessarily entails embracing the ritual forms themselves and rejecting modernity as merely the baggage of the colonial master. What may not immediately occur to them is that even while attempting to revive neo-indigenous faith traditions, they continue to do so using the colonial master’s language, technology, educational categories, and media infrastructure.

So what then is the way forward?

I am not going to suggest anything new or groundbreaking, but rather a clearheaded retrieval that seeks to understand, isolate, and standardise. Historically, modern chemistry is the child of alchemy; surgery emerged in part from the work of barbers and battlefield practitioners; philosophy itself was once inseparable from religion and myth.

The task of the Nigerian intellectual, therefore, is to carefully delineate empirical observations, social structures, symbolic meaning, metaphysical claims, and ritual forms without either dismissing or romanticising the whole package. 

This, ideally, ought to form the vision statement of our institutions of learning, rather than the vague ambitions they currently advertise—being a top-rated university in Africa, a world-class institution, or a centre for academic excellence. It ought to shape the ethos of our faculties of humanities, science, and technology alike.

The Nigerian university should not merely exist to reproduce imported categories of knowledge, but to critically retrieve, examine, refine, and standardise the intellectual inheritances embedded within our own societies.