The patio in Ikoyi Club is about the best place to stay if you want to kill time at the club. Most people going to other sections pass through the place. And when they are done with whatever has brought them to the club, they have to  pass through the patio again. This to and fro could be a distraction depending on your state of mind since not everybody is quiet as they walk or waltz through the pathway- some in fact, could be quite noisy.

Another form of distraction could be attires in their kaleidoscopic varieties. Many, under the guise of dressing for sports or recreation, reveal more than they conceal. But these, rather than be a distraction, could provide entertainment and engagement if like I said, your purpose was to pass time. Last week found me in a rare situation where I needed to kill about three hours. I chose to have lunch at the patio and to observe the goings on. I had my laptop in the car in case things got too boring but I was hoping I wouldn’t need it.

I just wanted to beanelder–whichIamattheclub–and enjoy the activities and idiosyncrasies of youth. A top sports personality who owned Radio and TV stations, came in quietly, ordered a take-away and just as quietly, made his exit. I wanted to make eye contact but decided against it. He might not have the luxury of time I had and we were not buddies anyway. Not so quiet was a retired High Court Judge who knew – and greeted – at least one person on almost every table. He is, from the look of things, a regular at the club.

Possibly another regular is a very popular actor and compere who was seated with his computer a few tables away from me. I was about thirty minutes into my meal before I noticed that a once very pretty lady but now in her late sixties, had seated a table behind him. Actually, it was their conversation, which somehow carried over the surrounding chatter, which drew my attention.

Someone had apparently hinted one of them that they both grew up around the same area in Ibadan. The conversation started with a confirmation of the hint before they made nostalgic trips into their childhood years. I know a bit of Ibadan so the area in question was not unfamiliar to me and this made me to identify with the narrative.

Occasionally, a few names common to both of them, popped up and this increased their excitement and flow as to be expected in elders who find themselves reliving their childhood memories with an ally. Eventually, the conversation touched the current state of the area and their property.

Neither of them apparently, was a native of Ibadan. But Ibadan was the capital of the old Western Region and their parents might have been there as Public Servants and eventually settled there.

They had both gone back there at different times after a long hiatus and found the place dirty and congested –and in the words of one, totally unconducive.

Their conversation ended on a sad but predictable note. These two people and their siblings no longer found any use for their childhood homes and besides, there was no unanimity among them as to what to do with the homes. So they had them sold. And to our brothers from the South-East.

This conversation intrigued me in many ways. The first time I went to my pre-teen home at Ilesha in decades, I found it rather small, almost claustrophobic. I wondered where what I thought were the expansive playground and courtyard that still lurked in my mind as our playground, had gone. I also found the surroundings dirtier and more congested than I ever imagined.

Still, there was an emotional connection and gratitude that the place still existed. This is what these two people had traded off. The second reason the conversation intrigued me is what is looking like a gradual take-over of space and property in the South-West. A lot of property in the South-West is being taken over by people in the South, particularly a section of the South. And a lot of spaces are being taken over by those from the North.

While those from the South use money, sometimes diaspora funds, to outbid other interests in property, those from the North use weapons, including ‘bold face’ to take over the forests and open spaces. What is intriguing is that the phenomenon is not repeating itself at the same rate in other zones of the country. It makes one wonder what is so special about the South-West that is creating this interest.

Especially when those who are largely showing this level of interest, are resisting incursions into their homesteads. While the situation in Lagos is easier to understand because of its commercial, cosmopolitan nature, that of the other towns especially in Ogun and Oyo States is more confounding. Even Ondo and Ekiti States are not left out. Already, farmlands are giving way as settlers come in numbers.

The realization that Yorubaland might not be able to feed itself, house itself or even govern itself at some time in the future should be dawning on all of us from this zone. The realization that our great grandchildren might become minorities or even strangers in their ancestral homes should spur us to action. The relative peace and security the zone boasts of and which might have attracted people, are already being threatened.

As the influx of people, and the resultant closing of space, create tension, the inevitable clashes along cultural, economic and even political lines, are just a matter of time. It is good to be liberal minded and I believe the Yoruba race is very liberal minded; whether it is acknowledged let alone appreciated is another thing. But it is high time strategic, long term effects of losing large chunks of your land were considered.

Land means more to a people, particularly in Africa, beyond commerce and the economy. It has deep cultural and spiritual connotations. Land is a means of identity. It is brotherhood. It is home in a deeply spiritual way. it would be disconcerting to have Yoruba children in the diaspora come home, as we all hope they would one day, to find their culture and language supplanted. Or worse, not to find any homestead they can call theirs.

Makes one wonder what is so special about the South-West that everybody wants a piece of its pie.