Àjà Ló Lerù by Oladejo Okediji– Yoruba Proverbs and Idiomatic Expressions

Languages are never static, they
constantly evolve. Reading “Àjà Ló Lerù” was a trip down memory lane of what
the Yoruba language used to be.  Of
course, spoken language and written language are not exactly the same thing. Àjà Ló
Lerù
was written in 1969 but I could not help but compare Yoruba as spoken today to
Yoruba as deployed by Oladejo Okediji in Àjà Ló Lerù.

The lasting impression that would
remain with me is the sheer richness of the language – in the hands of a master
like Okediji. The title of the ten chapters was either a Yoruba proverb or an
idiomatic expression. The book opened with a chapter called “Elefo Aatan”. Efo is
spinach. The prefix “El” before efo turns the word to seller of spinach,
somebody who hawks spinach). Think of aatan as a site where food wastes (and
worse things) are dumped. Those conversant with Yoruba language would
straightway know that this is a fragment of one Yoruba proverb.

The proverb in question fits a situation
where somebody is defensive and self-justifying because he or she has something
to hide. Once you come to the end of chapter one, you have a perfect
understanding of why it had that title. In chapter one, Lapade, the main
character, discovered a loot of money and pocketed it and as soon as he pocketed
it, the Inspector of Police turned up and started discussing a spate of crime
and not surprisingly, Lapade was suspicious and defensive.

I counted thirty-six instances of
proverbs, idiomatic expressions and various figures of speech in this chapter. Here
is one of these expressions: “bí ológbò ti í rìn ti enikéni kì gburo esè rè ni Lapade
nrìn lo ninu papa”. This is where I struggle to think of a translation that
captures what I read in Yoruba. My attempt at translation would be “as a cat
creeps around unheard, Lapade crept along in the plain”. Irrespective of how it
is translated, it takes a skilful user of Yoruba language produce the original
expression.

The following paragraph captures the
beauty of the language in the hands of the experts:

“Lójijì ni ó gbó wéré nínú ìgbé. Ó wo
ibè kò rí nkàn kan, kò rí enikéni, kò rí ohunkóhun. Ó wo iwájú, kò rí eniyan. Ó
wèhìn, ó sì rii pe afí abiamo ti oun sèsè kò lona ni o wa lehin. Awon eiye paapaa
kò fò mó lójú orun. Oju-orun mó teúteú. Pápá lo pereu lotun-losi, ó té salalu bí
òsà, o se minimini, o nséjú wínwínwín ninu òòrùn”. My attempt at translation is
this:

“Suddenly, he heard a faint noise in the plain. He turned to look in the direction of the noise, but he saw nothing. He looked ahead, there was nobody in sight. He turned to look back and observed the woman he passed earlier. Not a single bird was in flight and the sky was very clear. The plain was vast to his left and right, and as flat as the lagoon (???)…..”

I had to give up on the translation. I just don’t know how to put the expressions “o se minimini” (which I understood to capture the calmness of the whole environment”) and “o nseju winwinwin ninu oorun” (which I understood to express the oppressiveness of the afternoon sun) in the context of the whole paragraph.  

In that paragraph, I translated “Igbe”
as plain instead of bush because the whole passage gave the impression that the
event took place in the dry season when the vegetation had turned into a sparse
forest as the trees shed their leaves. Also, I translated “abiamo” woman, but
that is not a precise translation. Abiamo is a woman who is also a mother.  

I have only covered a couple of paragraphs from one chapter and
there are many more captivating examples that I can’t show here.

To me, we have stripped our mother tongue down to just the basic
vocabularies and expressions that are just enough to transact everyday affairs.
Most of us can’t even speak a sentence of Yoruba without adding several English
words.  

Should anybody care about this? Let me know what you think (either
by posting directly on this page or mailing me).