By Muyiwa Adetiba

An unusual picture came into my phone from one of the news blogs on Tuesday morning. It was that of the Ooni of Ife, Oba Adeyeye Enitan Ogunwusi at a Muslim prayer ground in Ife. He was hardly distinguishable—in posture and dressing—from any of the Muslim faithful around him. It was a poignant, meaningful picture because as far as I know, the Ooni is a devout Christian; it was also a calming picture because Osun State had been at a tipping point of religious tension in recent times due to an unfortunate directive that tended to accentuate rather than blur the differences between Christianity and Islam.

We all worship the same God and whether we like it or not, we are going to be around one another till kingdom come. Neither of the two religions is going away soon. The Ooni’s gesture in my opinion, tended to address this common goal, this common destiny and the need therefore, to respect and tolerate ourselves. It was also a picture of obeisance and humility before God irrespective of his preferred religion.

The picture also reminded me of my growing up years in that ancient state. The ‘Ileya festival’ as we called it, was one of the most important festivals in our otherwise routine calendar. Apart from the break from school, it also allowed us to indulge—in food and rascality. Actually, the rascality started a few weeks before Ileya. Everyday immediately after school, we followed the rams as they went in search of grazing fields.

We didn’t go to farms neither did we carry AK47. We were not herdsmen but school kids who had the afternoons to kill. The rams were usually held by long ropes, but it was not unusual that some kids either through acts of omission or commission, would let the ropes slip. It was our duty to chase after the fleeing ram and bring it back to the fold. We often engaged the rams in combats and often placed bets on the ‘strong’ rams.

We even went in search of local champions so they could fight themselves. We goaded them until the weaker one backed off and the chest of the ‘owner’ of the stronger one would swell with pride. It never occurred to us that they could actually die as a result of the head butts. We also occasionally rode on their backs until they threw us off. Those who could stay long on the backs were considered champions of sorts. What all this did was to cure me of any fear I might have had of these four legged animals.

We awaited the D-day itself with fervent anticipation. Very few non—Muslims would cook on that day because there would be no point. Depending on how affluent the neighbours were, our parents sometimes got raw meat to be cooked later. Bowls of steaming jollof rice would be sent to parents who would empty them into their own dishes and return the bowls with some coins to the little messenger that brought the food. The kids had a more communal meal. We were made to sit around a tray heaped high with rice and strewn with meat.

An elder would oversee to make sure nobody ate meat until the rice was finished or ate more than one piece of meat afterwards. I should quickly add that in that circle would be Muslims, Christians, Ogun and Ifa worshipers. If we noticed, we didn’t pay any heed. We were neighbours (aladugbo,) brothers and sisters who often watched each other’s back.

It is unfortunate that we lost this sense of brotherhood in our adult lives when we should be in a better position to appreciate that what makes a good person is not necessarily his religion. A cleric once said, ‘if you want to know the religion of a man, do not look at how much he prays and fasts. Rather, look at how he treats people’. I once expressed a similar sentiment to a pastor friend. I told her that I stumbled over the notion that only Christians will enter the kingdom of God.

I have met many Muslims who have genuinely good hearts and who devote their lives to good causes. I have also heard of Muslim clerics who see visions and perform many of the miracles that our Christian prophets perform. Are they not heaven bound? Does the Almighty not listen to them? She hushed me as if I was committing blasphemy. ‘Have I not heard that only Jesus is the way’?

‘Have I not read that we are not going to be saved by our works alone’? She admonished. I tried to counter by asking that it could very well be possible that the Quran also has passages that say only followers of Prophet Mohammed could make heaven. We argued back and forth. In the end I had to leave her to her self-righteousness. I am convinced however, that there are many things we don’t know about this world and the one beyond; about heaven and hell and what qualifies one for either. In the meantime, all we can do is strive to make this world a better place than we met it.

Is it not instructive that the most backward countries are the ones that have put religion in the front burner? Some of these countries are very savage in the practice of their religion. Meanwhile, those who put premium on equality, social justice and hard work seem to fare much better. Individuals who serve humanity with their time and money are outlived by their good works while those who preach what they don’t practice are like bamboo flames; here today and gone forever tomorrow.

I long for the day when our choice of friends, business partners, life partners or employees is not influenced by religion; where family members have people of differing faiths and still relate as members of a family like we used to do in Yorubaland.

The Holy Bible says we should work out our own salvation with fear and trembling. This makes it an individual thing. In other words, it should be a personal thing between us and our maker. Let us keep it that way for the sake of our country; for the sake of our children. And finally, for the sake of the brotherhood of man.

I wish the entire country a belated Barka De Sallah.