The concept of ọmọlúàbí can be described as an ideological-cum-identity construction phenomenon among the Yoruba all over the world. It is a philosophical concept that defines the core value(s) of the people. Dasylva (2016: 65) defines an ọmọlúàbí as an “ideal persona”.
Some of the moral values that define an ọmọlúàbí, among others, are selflessness; hospitality; avoidance of wickedness; truth and rectitude; kindness and generosity; due respect and honour to parents, elders and those in authority; chastity in sexual matters; avoidance of stealing; avoidance of hypocrisy; dependability in keeping covenants and bonds; straightforwardness; and protection of women as the weaker sex.
In Ogundeji’s (2009:73) opinion, ọmọlúàbí implies “ọmọ-tí-olú-ìwà-bí/ọmọ tí ó ní ìwà ìbí (rere)”, meaning “a person born and raised by someone with good character and, by implication, a person with good character himself or herself”.
On top of that, Awoniyi (1975) opines that an ọmọlúàbí leans on the principles of good behaviour, social harmony and integrity, and socially appropriate manners. These principles manifest in all aspects of their (the Yoruba’s) socio-cultural lives, including their eating habits, marriage, system of governance, dressing, and language, as evident in their linguistic expressions of politeness, morally-induced encounters and socially ingrained exchanges (Odebunmi, 2015: 2); and, interestingly, their conflict resolution system. Ajayi (2017) adds that ọmọlúàbí is the bedrock of the peaceful coexistence of people in Yoruba society, as it is a veritable tool that guides the Yoruba’s daily interaction, even in periods of conflict.
While I will not dwell on how the hip-hop music emerged in Nigeria, it should be mentioned that the 1990’s witnessed the development of computer-aided music production, and its entrance into Nigeria has made the production of songs both easy and affordable, compared to the days when a musician would need to be signed by a recording company or record label.
To fill the gap created by the mass exit of popular artistes, youth with budding musical talents but no recording companies around to develop them, resorted to making music digitally and cutting promotional CDs for radio stations and DJs (Adedeji, 2013).
Undoubtedly, Nigerian hip-hop has occupied a place of relevance in global music to the extent that the fourth richest man in the world, Bill Gates, mentioned some Nigerian artistes during one of his recent visits to Nigeria. While this is a booster to the country’s economy and arts, this treatise will emphasise certain anti-ọmọlúàbí features which are preponderant in the Nigerian hip-hop songs and make a position thereafter.
Among the many phenomena Nigerian hip-hop artistes sing about and reiterate in their songs are money, sex, women (for male artistes), materialism, and a lifestyle of splendour. As such, they often demonstrate their unbridled quest to be rich, influential and famous at all cost in their lexical choices of lyrics.
The lines “K’émi ṣá ti lówó; olè ló bọmọ jẹ́… Ó lè jẹ́ wire wire” (I just want to be rich. Only stealing can be considered immoral. I could be rich through cyber fraud) from Alexander Abolore Akande’s (9ce) song epitomises the get-rich-quick syndrome which the Nigerian hip-hop artistes sometimes promote.
One, then, wonders if cyber fraud is anything different from stealing. Through this illicit undertaking, many Nigerian youth, under the guise of being unemployed, have scammed thousands of unsuspecting foreigners, defrauding them of their hard earned resources and sometimes hinging this dastardly act on retaliating on behalf of their forefathers who were enslaved. Other songs like Kelly Handsome’s “Maga Don Pay” have also entrenched this culture of Internet scam.
That is not all: the entrenchment of violence and gangsterism is another anti-ọmọlúàbí feature in Nigerian hip-hop songs. Gangsterism is the practice or act of perpetrating violent criminal activities like street fighting, mugging, thuggery and public peace disturbance.
This negative phenomenon is accorded prominence in Nigerian hip-hop music, perhaps as part of the influence of the American hip-hop culture. With lines such as “So bi gobe sele ninu hood mi. Te ba gbo bajinotu, e ma r’awon goons mi; poka” (when there is violence in my neighbourhood, and you hear the sound of gunshots, you will see my squad) from Olamide, one sees a conscious or unconscious attempt at promoting gangsterism and rascality. In this regard, D-Banj’s (Dapo Oyebanjo) track “Don’t Tell Me Nonsense” is similar to Olamide’s.
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Further to that, the tacit reference to sex and sexual activities is another dominant anti-ọmọlúàbí feature of the Nigerian hip-hop. In the African sociocultural milieu, a verbal description of sex and sexual acts, especially in open discussions, is frowned on and considered taboo mostly among Yoruba people.
Although some sexual organs are found to be adopted in many Yoruba proverbs (see Fakoya 2007), these are only deployed for their pragmatic relevance. Issues concerning sex and virginity are held in high esteem in the Yoruba culture. Against this backdrop, the numerous examples of sex and sexual parts, in addition to the commodification of women, should be abolished in Nigerian hip-hop.
As I round off this piece, I must mention that many Nigerian hip-hop artistes such as Folarin Falana (Falz), Adekunle and Simisola Kosoko (Adekunle Gold and Simi), and Olamide have used their music to speak to power and correct social ills. Nonetheless, a lot still has to be done to ensure decency in the content of Nigerian hip-hop to safeguard the African sociocultural values such as the Yoruba’s ọmọlúàbí.
