D.A. Obasa and Yoruba Poetry
Denrele Adetimikan Obasa (1879-1945), often cited as D.A. Obasa, is one of the earliest Yoruba poets to work at the intersection of oral performance, print culture, and public intellectual life. Akintunde Akinyemi's 2017 study in Africa describes him as a poet, culture activist, printer, newspaper editor, and local intellectual whose work moved Yoruba oral resources into written poetry and journalism. That combination makes him especially useful on Yoruba.ca, because he shows how Yoruba literature moved through speech, writing, and the printed page at once.
Why Obasa Matters
Poetry as Public Speech
Obasa's lines do not read like private lyric alone. They sound like speech delivered in public spaces: entering a compound, greeting elders, announcing oneself, or challenging listeners to recognize the speaker's authority.
Print and Performance Together
One of the clearest things in the selected passages is that Obasa does not separate oral poetry from literacy. He presents himself as a chanter, a scribe, and a printer, someone moving Yoruba expression from voice into text without losing its force.
Literature with Social Weight
The excerpts linked to his work are not decorative. They are about etiquette, recognition, public conduct, memory, and reputation. In that sense, Obasa belongs naturally alongside Yoruba proverbs and praise poetry, but also alongside early modern Yoruba journalism and public commentary.
Selected Lines from Ìkíni
The selections below come from scan images matching the poem Ìkíni in the published supplementary material linked to Akinyẹmi's 2017 article. The Yoruba text is Obasa's, and the English beside it follows the published translation shown in the scanned pages.
Homage Before Entry
Agò o! Agò o!! Agò o!!!
Homage! Homage!! Homage!!!
Onílé mo kàgò, kí n tó wọlé.
I pay necessary homage to the homeowner before I enter.
Ewúrẹ́ wọlé kò kàgò, ni wọ́n bá mú un so;
A goat that enters the house without paying homage opens itself to entrapment, or tethering to the post.
Àgùtàn wọlé kò kàgò, ni wọ́n bá mú un so,
A sheep that enters the house without paying homage opens itself to entrapment, or tethering to the post.
Agbà t'ó wọlé tí kò kàgò, ò di mímú so!
Any adult who enters the house without paying homage opens themself to entrapment.
These lines make greeting and acknowledgment part of moral order. The point is larger than manners: entry without recognition is treated as a social failure with consequences.
Who Is There?
Onílé ní: “Wọ ta ha nu-un?”
The homeowner says, “Who is that?”
Òjògbọ́n ní, “Who is that?”
The white man says, “Who is that?”
Èkó ní, “Ìwọ ta ni yẹn?”
The Lagos-Yoruba speakers say in Lagos dialect, “Who is that?”
Ẹ̀gbá ní, “L'é yẹn?”
The Ẹ̀gbá-Yoruba speakers say in Ẹ̀gbá dialect, “Who is that?”
Ìjẹ̀bú ní, “L'és òun wa?”
The Ìjẹ̀bú-Yoruba speakers say in Ìjẹ̀bú dialect, “Who is that?”
Ìjẹ̀ṣà ní, “Ìwo yèsí?”
The Ìjẹ̀ṣà-Yoruba speakers say in Ìjẹ̀ṣà dialect, “Who is that?”
Ifẹ̀ ní, “Ìwo yèsí rè ní?”
The Ifẹ̀-Yoruba speakers say in Ifẹ̀ dialect, “Who is that?”
Ọ̀yọ́ ní, “Ìwo ta'a ni i ni?”
The Ọ̀yọ́-Yoruba speakers say in Ọ̀yọ́ dialect, “Who is that?”
Obasa turns one simple question into a map of speech communities. The poem records dialect difference without losing the common social act underneath it: recognition.
Recognition in Darkness
Òru kò m'ọl'ọ̀wọ̀, ló dà fún “Wọ ta ha nu-un?”
Darkness is no respecter of anybody, hence we ask for the identity of people we meet in darkness.
Mo ní, “Bí ẹ kò rí mi, ẹ kò mọ̀ ni?”
I ask, must you see people face to face to recognize them?
Bí ẹ kò mọ̀ Ọ̀ṣà, ẹ kò jíyò l'òbẹ̀? Ìgbẹ̀ àtẹ̀ ẹ kò mọ̀ mi, ẹ kò gbóhun mi?
Even if you have not been to the sea, have you not tasted salt? If you do not know me in person, can’t you recognize my voice?
Here Obasa moves from literal darkness into a meditation on recognition. Voice, reputation, and prior knowledge matter; identity is not only visual. That is one reason the poem feels at once proverbial and performative.
The Poet, Scribe, and Printer
Emi l'Akòwe Akéwì, emi l'Akéwì Akòwe.
I am the poet’s scribe; I am the literate poet.
Bí mo ti ń ké kíké, bẹ́ẹ̀ náà ni mo ń kọ kiko!
As I chant what is to be chanted, so too I write what is to be written.
Emi a sì máa tẹ l'òtítẹ́; ìkèwì mi kò jọ t'ara oko.
And I print what is to be printed; my poetry is not like that of the poets domiciled in the countryside.
Ìkèwì mi kò jọ t'agbẹ́; ẹ̀kà tí mo bá kà tí kò bá pé, k'ẹ́gbẹ́ ò bọ mi lásọ̀.
My poetry is not like that of the farmer turned poet; if my rendition is incomplete, others should strip me naked in public.
Ẹ́ sì gbà mí ní fila, at'aṣọ àti fila.
And take away my cap, both clothes and cap.
This is the most direct statement of Obasa's literary importance. He identifies himself not only as a poet but as a mediator between oral tradition and print culture. For Yoruba literary history, that is a foundational claim.
Dedication and Editorial Memory
Gbogbo yín ni mo kí, “Mí ki l'ólódì kan!”
I greet you all, without any exception.
B'ẹ̀kòló bá júbà, ilè a la'nu; ìbà tí mo jú' un t'Ọgá mi ni: Ọgbẹni G. A. Williams onínúure!
If the earthworm pays homage, the ground will split asunder; that homage is for my boss, Mr. G. A. Williams, the good man.
Editor àgbà ní'lé-Èkó - oun l'Ọgáa mi.
The renowned editor in Lagos, he is my boss.
Oore t'ó ṣe fún mi, n kò ní í gbàgbé láéláé.
His good intention towards me, I cannot forget ever.
Oun l'ó kọ mi n'ìṣẹ́, tí mo fi ń jẹun; ni mo fi joyè Editor.
He taught me the art of the printing press, the work by which I live today, in my present position as editor.
Welcome, Response, and Arrival
B'ilé lo bá wà, o w'òde.
If you are home, look outside.
Bí yàrá l'o bá wà, o w'ọdẹdẹ;
If you are in the room, look at the corridor or the passageway.
B'ẹ̀hìnkùlé l'o bá wà, o w'ẹ̀kànkàn ilé.
If you are at the backyard, look at the entrance to the house.
A-pẹ-e-jẹ; njọ bí òkú orùn!
To fail to respond to calls is to pretend to be dead.
Ẹ bá ṣe mí ní, “Pẹ̀lẹ́, máa wọlé, máa rora.”
Say “Hello, welcome” to me. “Watch your steps.”
Mo dé o! Mo dé o!! Mo dé o!!!
Here I am! Here I am!! Here I am!!!
Mo dé wéré bí eji alẹ́, mo dé kèsì bí eji àwúrò;
I have come unexpectedly as the late night rain. I have come unannounced as the early morning rain.
Mo dé páápáá-pá bí eji ìyálẹ́ta!
I have come speedily like the midday rain.
In this later passage, Obasa turns everyday courtesy into dramatic entrance. Being present is not passive: you look up, answer, welcome, and announce yourself. Even the speaker's arrival becomes a sequence of poetic comparisons, measured against different kinds of rain.
Greetings, Family, and Consequence
Àwọn ìyàwó ń kọ?
How about your wife?
Àwọn ọmọdé ń kọ?
How about your children?
Ẹṣin kò ní j'oko bí?
Is the horse grazing?
Kò s'ọ́hun bọ́ dun l'Eyọ, bíi k'a jí k'ára ẹni lẹ!
The Ẹyọ-Yoruba say: health is wealth.
A kì í jẹ́ m'Orìṣà n'ìyíi.
The dignity of the deity is in its unresponsiveness to greetings.
A kì y'awó kò jẹ́, a fún un lówó, ò gbowó lọ.
The bride that refuses to acknowledge our greetings takes our money and disappears.
Ọmọde tí kò kàáre, sisinni ló ń sinni.
A child that is not lazy will have enough rest later in life.
Èni tí kò kí ni “Kú àbọ̀,” ó pàdánù “O kú ilé.”
Whoever forgets to say “Welcome” should not expect the person coming in to say, “I'm happy to be back home.”
This passage shows how expansive greeting language is in Obasa's poetry. It reaches from household welfare and health into labor, reciprocity, marriage, and the ethics of response. Greeting is never just a formality; it is a test of social seriousness.
Reading Obasa on Yoruba.ca
On Yoruba.ca, Obasa belongs within the wider story of language and literature rather than only inside a list of famous names. He helps explain how Yoruba writing preserves social protocol, public memory, and spoken artistry. He also shows that print did not replace oral tradition; it became another way of carrying it forward.
If you are exploring Yoruba literature for the first time, Obasa is a strong bridge figure between oral praise traditions, proverbs, early newspapers, and modern literary self-consciousness.
References and Source Trail
Primary scholarly source
Akintunde Akinyẹmi, "D. A. Ọbasa (1879-1945): a Yoruba poet, culture activist and local intellectual in colonial Nigeria," Africa: Journal of the International African Institute 87, no. 1 (2017): 1-15.
Why this source matters here
The Cambridge article supports the biographical claims on this page, including Obasa's dates, his training in printing under G. A. Williams, his establishment of Ilarẹ Printing Press in Ibadan, and his role as editor of Yoruba News. It also notes that the online supplementary material contains fuller poem samples with English translations introduced and annotated by Akinyẹmi.