One of my fondest memories as a four/five year-old growing up in Ilesha, was sharing time with someone I considered a kind, loving old man. He would tease me about my girlfriends and I would protest vehemently that I had none. He would mention a few female names and I would protest more vehemently. This would go on for all of five minutes sometimes before moving to other things. The elders, especially my mother, would be amused at what seemed like serious exchanges. In the end, it was my mother who bailed me out when she felt it had gone on long enough. She simply advised me to say ‘she is fine’ whenever the old man raised the issue. Immediately I said the magic words, he knew I had been schooled. The issue never came up again. But it didn’t stop our friendship.

He was a devout Muslim. He loved the rituals that went with his regular prayers and went through them meticulously. He had a special mat made from the skin of a ‘sacrificial ram’ on which he said those prayers. I loved the feel and coziness of the fur, especially when he had just changed it – which I suspect he did almost after every ‘iIeya’ – and I would sit or lie on the mat whenever and however I wanted. No one else, not even his children, enjoyed that privilege. And no one admonished me for it. No one called out the difference in religion because it wasn’t an issue. I learnt to keep quiet when it was time for his prayers and even learnt a few words in the process. No one, including my parents, feared I could be drawn into Islam. Part of my reward for the special relationship was that I got a special attention when it came to the distribution of Sallah meat.

On a street not too far from ours was a famous traditionalist nicknamed ‘the father of many kids’ because of his love for kids. He had an expansive compound that kids loved to roam and play in. The one exception was a secluded place which was out of bounds and everyone respected that. The kids also knew not to engage him whenever he was coming from the place. His knowledge of herbs and roots was legendary and both Muslims and Christians patronized him for medical solutions. Some also did for spiritual solutions. That was the Yorubaland I grew up in. Your religious belief was private and you were not judged by it. Only by the content of your character. The Yoruba interpersonal relationship is anchored on the saying that ‘Aniyan l’oju’. (Your thoughts or intentions are what matter). Incidentally it almost tallies with the Christian belief that one is influenced by what forms in the heart as opposed to what comes into the body. Which explains why inter-religious marriages are hardly ever frowned at among Yoruba. Which is why there is hardly any home in Yorubaland that does not have Muslims and Christians. Which is why some of my closest friends today might not be church going Christians. Which is why my favourite place for the yearly Sallah get together is the home of a couple who got married the same year and month as ours some 45 years ago. The man has grown in faith to be a latter day devout Muslim and is now a ‘Baba Adini’ while the wife has also grown in faith to become a lector in a Catholic Church. That he does not drink anymore has not stopped alcohol being served in their home. It has also not stopped Christian prayers being said. Her being a devout Catholic has not, on the other hand, stopped her from overseeing the early morning meals that are symbolic of Ramadan. More importantly, their religious preferences have not affected a loving relationship of almost half a century.

The Yoruba culture is a very liberal one. At the core of it is a strong belief in a live and let live doctrine which abhors extremism in anything. To the Yoruba, religious extremists are said to have ‘accepted madness’ with their religion. (‘Won gba were m’esin’). So when they see someone who wears religion on their sleeves and has, as a result, become intolerant of other religions or even traditional culture, they give such a fellow a wide berth because the person is deemed to have imbibed insanity with religion. A heartwarming but typical example is an area in Lagos where Muslims, Christians and traditionalists co-worship without any rancor. That used to be the Yoruba way. But it is way that is being upended by those who are imbibing insanity with religion. These are the empty drums causing cacophony in Yorubaland. It is laughable when some people state that Muslims have been marginalized in Yorubaland because there is no data to support such a claim unlike some parts of the north where Christians have been. There is simply no systemic marginalization of any kind in the whole of Yorubaland. And such a policy cannot stand in the South-west Zone. To the best of my knowledge, Sharia laws have always been there for those believers who wish for them and some Muslims have ordered their lives according to Sharia injunctions without shouting to the roof top. Just as ‘ayelala’ or other traditional methods of adjudication have always been there for those who choose to live by them. What we don’t have and don’t want, are religious enforcers. What we reject is political Sharia.

It has been roughly twenty years now since Zamfara State led about ten Northern states to adopt Sharia judicial governance; or political Sharia to put it bluntly. What has happened to those States since then in terms of political and economic progress? In terms of peace and equity? In terms of even corruption? Are they not battling one terrorist organization after another? And going from one chaotic situation to another? Would those States not have been deemed ‘failed’ if the resources at the center derived mainly from the South, have not been poured to defend and stabilize them? Is that what the proponents of Sharia in Yorubaland wish for that land? Are they envious of the religious harmony in the Zone and want to put an end to it? Is there an agenda from within and without, to disrupt the religious, economic and political stability of Yorubaland? Or is the Usman Dan Fodio agenda still alive in the minds of some people? Questions, questions.

A Yoruba proverb says you need to first see what whoever wants to give you a dress is wearing if it is clean or tattered because nobody can give what they don’t have. We are sorry, but from what we can see, the garment of Sharia in the Northern States is not what we want to dress our people with.

•Muyiwa Adetiba is a veteran journalist and publisher. He can be reached via titbits2012@yahoo.com