|Title:||'Alternative history': the world of Yoruba chroniclers|
|Publication info:||Ann Arbor, Michigan: MPublishing, University of Michigan Library
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'Alternative history': the world of Yoruba chroniclers
Evanston, IL: Program of African Studies, Northwestern University
no. 6, pp. 2-3, 6, 1993
|Author Biography:||Toyin Falola is a member of the Department of History, University of Texas at Austin.|
'ALTERNATIVE HISTORY': The World of Yoruba Chroniclers
Academic history in Nigeria did not grow from an indigenous tradition, even if it has profited from it in seeking the sources to sustain itself. As a child of a Western formal system, the academy traces its own beginning to Herodotus, the so-called father of history. In a sense, this is both a blessing and a tragedy. It is a blessing because academic history is connected with a long established Western tradition of historiography which provided it with ready methods, tools, and ideas. It is a tragedy because it dissociates itself from a more vibrant indigenous tradition. Academic history has also set itself on a path of self-destruction. It is a caricature of a Western tradition, failing so far to generate any respectable domestication, unable to give birth to any large body of autonomous theories and ideas, always borrowing, giving little, and is as yet to connect with any tangible reading public. The academy arrogantly blames its failure on the absence of and/or the gullibility of a reading public. This is unfair: there is a reading public, very discriminating in what it consumes, preferring instead products by other 'historians,' ranging from old classics, such as Johnson's History of the Yorubas, to recent controversial ones such as Obasanjo's Not My Will.
The challenge to academic history from within the national frontiers is as important as the external critique from the members of the heritage to which it is proud to connect itself. Before the 1950s when academic history began its journey, there were distinguished predecessors in such forms as 'itan' [oral accounts] and chronicles written in Arabic and indigenous languages. All these forms remain important.
Today, there is a new aggressive partner: 'hagiography'. The Nigerian civil war and the high turn-over of regimes have produced hundreds of "saints" who want to impose on the public their biographies to explain their extraordinary careers. "Hagiolaters" abound in large numbers, and the field is flourishing with works by military generals, politicians, ambassadors, etc. describing themselves as authors and historians. In these works, the celebration of 'peasant success,' the 'historian' is at the same time a salesman with an ideology to market, an achievement to announce and a failure to explain. The prominence of these authors raises the issue of power and the production of knowledge. Whereas this is a time of decline in academic publishing when journals and publishing houses are dying, it is a lucrative time for 'hagiographers' who have the money to subsidize publishing or pay for an entire print run. In addition, they have the political clout to invite wealthy people and those in power to grandiose launching ceremonies where a book sale generates much money. The book industry survives, but not to the satisfaction of the academy.
The old and new 'alternative' histories constitute an assault on academic history in many ways. At the local level, traditions and chronicles enjoy more respect and credibility than academic works, except those that say what the communities want to believe. At the national level, 'hagiography' reigns supreme. Its creators are already well-known as public figures. They are able to tap their network to advertise their books, sell sufficient copies and reward publishers. A good number of these authors lay claim to history writing, and are gaining credibility in some quarters.
Why the Nigerian public tends to confuse local history, biographies and reminiscences by public figures with scholarly works is an issue that has to be explored more fully elsewhere. Not many people will disagree on the fact that chronicles sell more than scholarly works: they are simple to read, languages of communication are accessible, and the books are cheap and easy to acquire in such places as motor parks, markets, and street corners.
The academy shares the blame in promoting the confusion that I have just alluded to. Several scholars render services in the writing of such works, as the acknowledgements show. There is nothing wrong with this. What is wrong is the politics of collaboration. It is dirty for a scholar to ghost-write for pay, as is alleged in some cases. The author who claims credit appropriates intellectual discourse through corruption, and scholarship is debased. Meanwhile, the false author wears an academic gown and is justified in being contemptuous of scholars. There is a respectable collaboration in which the scholar simply makes suggestions, but the 'hagiographers' turn this into an approval to build reputation and credibility.
With respect to local history, several scholars are poaching into this territory. They write academic works on the one hand and chronicles on the other. Their chronicles are not in any way better than others, as those by Abogunrin, Oni, Adefila and Dada, all authors with University diplomas and teaching careers, attest. Indeed, the ones by Adefila and Abogunrin are disappointing in their quality and are nowhere near as good as the established ones. Scholars poach to fulfil narrow political and cultural agendas of lending their academic weight for partisan considerations. By so doing, they promote the idea that scholarly works and local history can be assessed by the same criteria and share similar ideologies and constitutions.
So far, I have indicated that the terrain is not dominated by one genre, and it is certainly not controlled by the academy. I now turn to the elaboration of one of the 'alternative' histories—local chronicles—to bring out the major elements of a distinct tradition. Chronicles began in the 19th century, as a cultural project by a new intelligentsia interested in presenting to the European world a rich and different heritage. This intelligentsia was connected with the Church, and believed in 'legitimate' commerce and the ongoing Westernization process as long as it did not rob Africans of power. During the colonial period, local history was promoted by the educated elite for the additional reason of responding to colonial reforms on local government, political reorganisations, resource allocation, etc., which involved the competition of groups. Many chroniclers abandoned the pan-Yoruba nationalism of the 19th century in favour of a sub-group identity to defend local interests. Progressive Unions organised along ethnic lines emerged, and part of their strategy was to sponsor local histories to provide charters to legitimize modern-day claims and negotiate political alliances at the regional level.
Chroniclers see themselves as 'patriots,' writing for no monetary rewards or glory, but only to help their people to understand and appreciate their past. They usually choose their towns or sub-group as the focus; most of them write in Yoruba, and those who do so in English are mainly Christians. All keep to serving 'the cause of truth, and of public benefit'.
They create a group perspective, promote ethnocentric values, project a glorious past, and seek the cause of progress for future purposes. History is relevant to the past (rehabilitation, glory), the present (legitimacy, pride) and the future (progress, nationalism). They all see themselves as 'thorough' researchers who collect extensive oral data and read whatever is relevant before they make their sound judgements. They lay claim to no monopoly of knowledge: they challenge others to write, and many present their works as tentative and promise subsequent revisions. They seek no peer evaluations for publishing; instead, they raise the resources to self-publish and to depend on hawking and small bookshops for distribution.
There have always been consumers of local histories. There is no chronicler without a constituency. As patriots and nationalists, they have a mass appeal for their ability to present and project the culture and aspirations of their constituencies. As guardians of histories, they build pride. As knowledgeable people, they use the past to legitimize the domination and control of the contemporary elite. Chroniclers always connect with the beliefs of the key members of their constituencies, and their conception of history is similar to that of the public they serve. In many instances, a chronicle becomes the official history of a people [e.g., Eku Apa, Akinyele on Ibadan, Bada on Saki]. In cases like this, the accounts by chroniclers keep closely to the oral official accounts—the court histories—which represent the consensus of the dominant elite.
Historical narrative is the key medium by which chroniclers present their studies. In general, they present the history and culture of their people in descriptive terms, focussing on stories of origins, ancestral heroes, great warriors and traders, gods, goddesses, festivals, rituals, etc. There is a common pattern: accounts of myths of origins, establishment of dynasties, a list of principal lineages and compounds, important wars and crises, contemporary history (the coming of Islam, Christianity and the British), and socio-religious institutions.
The meat in the presentation is political history. Irrespective of what a chronicler addresses, he is conscious of its political significance. Chroniclers are interested in social and economic issues to the extent that they have connections with politics. Slaves, trade and the poor are instruments of use and manipulation by a dominant elite. Chronicles are not 'annals of the poor.' In celebrating the political evolution of the state or community, praising heroes of the past, eulogizing leadership, constructing chronology, etc. chroniclers are efficient and comfortable with the production of elite history. In a sense, they connect with the essentials of 'itan' ('history' in local idioms) and of oral traditions. In yet another sense, chroniclers are themselves members of the 'ruling class' and their work is a representation of class interest. There are cases in which a chronicle received the sanction of an Oba and chiefs before publication [e.g.,Atundaolu on Ilesa; Morgan on Ibadan]. Contemporary struggles and problems within the class are woven into the dynamics and construction of the past to derive legitimacy and credibility. Once a chronicler gains respect, he also acquires the power to be credible in feeding the past with the food of the present. When a chronicle is an official history, it is a well-embroidered political document, carefully crafted for propaganda. Even when a chronicler has no power, he can turn himself into a nuisance by parasitizing on contemporary problems: the past becomes an instrument with which to organise present-day conflicts, as in the cases of political rivalries in Ilorin (between the Fulani and Yoruba) and in Ile-Ife (between the Ife and Modakeke).
In the historical narratives, the stress is on inherited traditions, but interpreted by the chronicler to construct a past which has a relevance for present politics. Most chroniclers do not see myths and oral traditions as too complicated to be managed and edited; they recognize versions, but settle for the one that suits them, or report all of them without dismissing any. Chroniclers have no trouble presenting as reality what scholars will dismiss as fabrications. A hero might have disappeared with a chain to the high heavens or lived for over a thousand years. What is important is the ideology, message and claims in such a mysterious disappearance. Whoever wants to put the chronicler to test is expected to do so not by challenging the impossibility of elements in the stories, but by offering other stories.
Chroniclers, however, interpret traditions in an eclectic manner, sometimes in ways that some may even characterize as ambiguous. Space does not permit any full elaboration of this important point, but I will bring out what I regard as the various viewpoints.
There is a minority which tends to treat certain aspects of Yoruba traditions as a liability for contemporary society and the future. The Christian converts reveal an ambivalent attitude to traditions. While they do not dismiss all aspects, some chroniclers tend to denigrate indigenous religion in preference for the new one of Christianity [e.g.,Olorunyomi]. Some want the rapid spread of Christianity, Western education and 'civilization' defined in Western terms. If a number of chronicles want change in many aspects of Yoruba tradition, they however do not want any wholesale change. Without a single exception, all chroniclers detest the racism and arrogance of Western imperialism, and they express their objections by asserting Yoruba/African values. Nationalism is a counter to Western racism and cultural corruption.
While the majority of academic historians bemoan the loss of African traditions and construct a golden age, some chroniclers propose a contrary thesis by talking in terms of the failure of traditions. The European conquest, new technology, etc. are interpreted by some as the inability of the old gods to protect the people. It is possible to see those positions as expressions of a colonized mind, acting in response to an alleged superiority of Western culture. But it is more than this; when a chronicler queries tradition he is not necessarily advocating the importation of another culture. There is a rather complicated project of culture reforms whereby the society should be able to return to a 'pure period' in its history when its traditions were uncorrupted. To others, cultural synthesis is an ideal project whereby a 'pure' Yoruba culture is combined with either the Islamic or the Western to produce the 'best.'
To many chroniclers, traditions are employed for legitimation and identity. Traditions are presented to enhance the reputation of individuals and communities and to construct a coherent ideology on origins. History glorifies the individual heroes of the past. Oriki (appellations) of successful individuals and episodes in the community's history receive space. Chroniclers are comfortable working with 'big men' and big events. Once the chronicler identifies his 'big man', he uses his data to point to worthy qualities of wealth, power, generosity and wisdom. If he was a warrior or leader, attributes of courage, sometimes of ruthlessness and compassion are added, especially when dealing with the turbulence of the 19th century.
The most common attitude to tradition is to seek a blend between indigenous culture and a foreign one. Most chroniclers seek a cultural synthesis. A 'purely native mind,' to draw from the beautiful phrase of A. K. Ajisafe, is necessary to study Yoruba laws and institutions so as not to criticize them un-necessarily. But the motive is to edit and synthesize the 'best ones' with the European culture. Many are deeply suspicious of those who want to supplant Yoruba culture with a Western one. In calling for synthesis, chroniclers are united. In the details of what to synthesize, there is a lot of disagreement on the aspects to select from the different cultures. By identifying 'pure elements' of indigenous culture, chroniclers make an excellent contribution to cultural reformulation. By identifying those elements in the Western culture they prefer, they embark upon a difficult but challenging project of the understanding of the other. The construction of a Euro-African culture has been one of the most engaging problems since the 19th century. The answers to the problem are many, but it is doubtful whether the right one has been found.
The celebration of the individual is in part to bring out the essence of leadership, and to contrast a successful past with a troubled present. What defined reputation in cultural terms can be found in the text: money, followership, intransigence, and commitment. The power of the individual, especially of kings, high chiefs, priests, etc, is described in the framework of a religious ideology. Such individuals were not ordinary human beings; the king was closer to the gods. A successful reputation was rewarded with a large followership. The pattern is replicated in modern society: an ambitious individual surrounds himself with a crowd, pays prominent musicians and entertainers to salute his wealth, and displays generosity. Chroniclers connect their successful heroes with the community: they were saviours at critical moments, or at best visionaries. But chroniclers also stumble: the ruthlessness of the hero reveals a trait of self-aggrandizement in which the hero was no more than a self-serving 'cowboy' kicking everybody on his path to a glorious destination. In a sense, self-aggrandizement is recommended as a model of behaviour, since successful 'heroes' or aspirants to fame tap into the same culture and play a similar game of mobilizing people as followers. The ultimate has always been to acquire a chieftaincy title, partly to connect to a followership, to celebrate the self and to have an edge over an enemy. Chroniclers use heroes to moralize on leadership for contemporary society. They have no problem with courage, valour, wealth, followership, generosity, etc. and they recommend all these. What they seem to have a problem with is the inability of a contemporary figure to use his influence for the benefit of his town or people.
For those who did not make it, chroniclers construct an ideology of subservience. Constraints imposed by political and economic limitations are rationalised in cultural terms. To those who lacked freedom and opportunities—people like slaves—religion provides an explanation for their fate, and the concept of destiny to legitimize their status.
The identity of communities is always connected with that of individual actors. On the issue of identity, chroniclers work with two paradigms. The first is usually on the identity of their own town or sub-ethnic group. They use myths of origin and dynasties to show that the people of their community are united by common values and a common ancestor. The allegiance to the cults and gods is used to unite everybody, irrespective of differences in lineages and religions. For most chroniclers, the issue of power within the region is always important. Their groups are old, sometimes pre-dating or starting with Oduduwa, the ancestral founder of the Yoruba [Abiola; Oguntiyi; Ashara; Opadeji]. Kingship is always important, with a history sometimes connected with migration from an advanced civilization [e.g., Johnson, Morgan]. Inter-group relations are presented to show the importance of the area in regional politics and economy [e.g. Oguntuyi; Ashara] while domination is underplayed as in the Igbomina chronicles.
The second is the identity of a single Yoruba ethnic group. Unifying themes are sought to build cohesion and strengthen collective identity. The trouble is the presentation and interpretation of rivalries and competitions among the Yoruba groups. The pan-Yoruba nationalists among the chroniclers lament the lack of unity among the group. There is, however, a political reason for promoting a collective identity. The desire is for the Yoruba to have more control in a federal Nigeria and to be able to acquire more resources in competition with other large ethnic groups. Faith in Yoruba 'national leaders' is questioned not because they are bad people but because they are 'bad Yoruba' for failure to use their positions to further an ethnic cause.
The resolution adopted by chroniclers is what the Yoruba politicians have also resorted to since the 1940s. This is the ideology of homogenization: there are 'national' gods like Obatala and Ogun; Olodumare, the supreme being, is universal; there is Oduduwa, 'the father of all Yoruba'; similar language, common culture, etc. Those who are sensitive to intra-ethnic competition add yet another dimension to their discussion: the superiority of the Yoruba in wisdom, education, culture and wealth compared with the other ethnic groups in the country.
Irrespective of how chroniclers interpret and present traditions and individuals, they are concerned with progress. Whereas scholars are criticized for choosing themes irrelevant to the aspirations of modern society in a hurry for change, no one can say the same of any chronicler who sees a book as a political manifesto and a blueprint for change. To a chronicler, a book fulfils a definite mission for representing the aspirations of a sub-group or community. One can argue that chroniclers share the concern for progress with all elite members. However, unlike the intelligentsia, chroniclers do not always talk in the context of assimilation to Western values, or conceive of change to follow only a path already charted by Europe. There are chroniclers who can be grouped along with the intelligentsia because of their connections with the Church and formal education [e.g., Adeyemi]. The provision of more schools, health facilities, employment, roads, electricity, pipe water, industries, etc. define the very essence of progress. Some will add the recognition of their local leaders in regional and national politics and enhanced reputation for their towns. One crucial requirement in bringing about change is leadership. On this, chroniclers comment on chieftaincy politics, call for conflict resolutions in such a way that power rivalry will not pull apart a town, and demand a productive alliance of all elites, traditional and modern.
There are tensions and conflicts within local history itself. Differences focus on how to use traditions to enhance or marginalise the reputation and pre-eminence of one group in relation to the other. For instance, the Oyocentredness in Johnson provoked a response by Ijesa authors like Oni and Abiola. There are occasional disputations over interpretations, as in the case of two Egba authors, Ajisafe and Solanke. The manifestoes of chroniclers can clash in the process of establishing hierarchies of power and marginality among groups and dynasties. Every town wants to become the headquarters of a province, state, region, or at worst a local government. The head of every town or major village wants to wear a crown. Every head wants to be paramount in order to connect with the other members of the ruling class. These ambitions often require the rehabilitation of the past, substantial editing of pre-colonial history of political control and imperialism, and an impressive construction of a trans-continuous history of the present with a glorious past. Trans-continuity is inevitable, because once part of the chain is broken, the chronicler is faced with a difficult problem of explanation. Failures of past leadership and wars are cleverly rationalised by under-reporting them or by presenting others as brutalizing, godless hordes. Even in failure, local victims are identified and condemned. Heroes always emerge: if actual historical events will expose their failure, the chroniclers can fall back on myths and oriki for rehabilitation. The trouble in the strategy is that the claim of one group is contradicted by the other. This is the zone of tension and disputations in chronicles. The fight is more about power, and less about the contents and 'global' theories of knowledge.
In recent time, the tension is about religious ideology as Muslims challenge the presentation of progress in secular terms and criticize a number of authors for promoting the cause of Christianity or for interpreting traditions in ways that suit a Christian elite. I have been studying this dimension for quite some time, but my data are incomplete at the moment. What is clear is that Islamic authors, presenting the cause of Islam or defending Muslim leaders, criticize the presentations of certain events by the Yoruba who employ local mediums or who are influenced by a Christian-oriented project. For instance, Sanusi Harun disagreed with I.B. Akinyele on the power tussle in Ibadan early in this century and celebrated the emergence of a Muslim leader, and the venerable Samuel Johnson's treatment of Ilorin is criticized by a number of Muslim scholars.
The origin of this counter-tradition lies in the growth of Islam and Arabic literacy which encouraged writing on religion, history, etc. The latter-day guru is the late Shaikh Adam Abdullahi al-Iluri (in short, Adam Iluri) who established a major religious college in Agege and crowned a long academic history with a Medal of Excellence of the First Order in Arts and Sciences awarded by President Mubarak of Egypt in 1990. Highly respected as a scholar and adored by his students, Iluri was a prolific writer whose contribution to contemporary historiography is now being recognized. His 'radical,' anti-Christian and anti-traditional statements are scattered in sermons and pamphlets but those listed in the bibliography below are likely to endure. Like many other Islamic scholars, Iluri was primarily concerned with Islamic issues, but he was responding to anti-Islamic positions and strengthening an Islamic and sub-Yoruba identity. His Aslu qabaili Yuruba is, however, devoted to an Islamic presentation of Yoruba origin. Iluri offers a different interpretation of origin from Samuel Johnson, creating a connection between the Yoruba and the Arabs. He provides accounts of the spread of Islam, treats some of the Yoruba wars of the 19th century as efforts at Islamic propagation rather than power politics and dissociates Ilorin and Muslims from the fall of Oyo. Iluri stands as a class by himself for his severe condemnation of Yoruba religion and aspects of culture (e.g., names, prostrating for elders, festivals) that he dismisses as 'pagan.' To protect Islam, Iluri urges Yoruba Muslims not to associate themselves with the local gods and to sanitize themselves from Christian values.
Counter-historical presentations, in whatever form, also have a market. In the recent example that I have just provided, history is relevant to the creation of a sub-Yoruba Islamic identity.
Clear conclusions from scholarly studies do not necessarily represent hegemonic views. Myths of origins and their interpretations by local historians are as current as ever and certainly more consumed than scholarly works on state formation. The de-mystification of heroes by scholars is rejected. The motives of history, as defined in indigenous terms, remain important. Scholars must never behave or present their works as if in competition with local chroniclers. If they do, they are sure to lose. We stand to benefit by encouraging the production of local histories, if only to contribute to historical consciousness, promote literacy, and understand the production of knowledge.
It is useful for scholars to continue to treat chronicles as source materials. Within the paradigms established by the academy, a chronicle may be good or bad. However, we have to move beyond this narrow assessment to treat chronicles as texts with a different voice, agenda, ideology, and introspection. The chronicles and scholarly works will combine with others for a future generation to construct the history and society of this century. In some respects, the chronicles may have an edge, especially in such issues as culture change, identity construction, and the impact of literacy on thought-processes and philosophies. Academic history is usually an external construction of a community's life, contrasting with the self-conception offered by chroniclers. How communities produce and use knowledge, constitute themselves, construct reality and identity, define spatial and external relations, manipulate symbols, and reconcile with collective disasters are presented by chroniclers within the framework of distinct ideologies and constitutions.
In commenting on chronicles and all other forms of 'alternative' history, the academy should be cautious in using its power and privilege to dominate them, should promote the development of all kinds of intellectual discourse, and must retreat from an arrogant pursuit of seeking to influence the values and directions of a vibrant intellectual culture with a distinguished history and legitimate motives. For now let us talk about others, but we need to discover what chroniclers think about the academy—as the prolific chronicler, Chief Ojo, the Bada of Saki, told me about this interaction:
When the cat sees a lion and calls it a dog to the public, the cat is not blind but mischievous.
Is the academy a blind or mischievous cat?
Abiola, J. D. E., Babafemi, J. A., & Ataiyero, S. O. S., Itan Ilesa. Ilesa: self published, 1933.
Abogunrin, O. Itan Ilu Omu-Aran. 1978
Adefila, J. A. Historical Facts About The Origin and Settlement of Ora. Ile-Ife, 1978.
Ademakinwa, J. A. Ife, Cradle of the Yoruba. Lagos, 1958
Adetoyi, A. A Short History of Ila. Ila, 1974
Ajisafe, A. K., The Errors and Defeat of Ladipo Solanke. Lagos, 1931
Atundaolu, H., "A Short Traditional History of the Ijeshas and Other Hinterland Tribes," Lagos Weekly Record, 6 parts, June/July 1906.
Eku-Apa Community, A Short History of Alapa of Eku-apa Land. 1983
Ashara, M. B., The History of Owo. Owo, 1952.
Atolagbe, D., Itan Ore, Otun at Moba. Ikire, 1974.
Babatunde, A., Ila-Orangun Traditional Rulers. Ila, n.d.
Bada, S. O., Iwe Itan Ondo. Ondo, 1940.
Bakr, A., Ta'lif Akhbar al-qurin min umara bilad Ilurun. 1912.
Dada, P. O., Yoruba Oloyinmomo, Itan Oro-Ago. Oyan, 1963.
Dada, P. O., A Brief History of Igbomina (Igboona) or the People Called Igbomina/Igboona. Ilorin, 1985.
Fasogbon, M. A. Original Home of the Yorubas. Ile-Ife, 1973
Fasogbon, M. A., A Short History About the Founding of Modakeke, n.d.
Folami, T., A History of Lagos, Nigeria New York:Exposition Press, 1982
George, J. O., Historical Notes on the Yoruba Country and Its Tribes, Lagos, 1895.
Iluri, A., Al-Islam fi Nijiriya wa Shaykk dan Fudi. Beirut, 1971
Iluri, A., Nasimu' s-saba fi akhbari 'l'Islam wa ulama biladi Yuruba, Agege, 1982.
Iluri, A., Mujaz tarikihi nijiriyal-qadim wa'l-hadith. Agege, 1963.
Iluri, A. Aslu-qabaili Yuruba. Agege, 1972.
Iwo Aborigenes Society, The Iwo Chronicle. Ijara Isin, 1983
Leigh, J. A., History of Ondo. Ondo, 1917
Morgan, K., Akinyele's Outline History of Ibadan. 3 vols. 1970s.
Oba Progressive Union, The History of Oba. 1975
Ogundeji, J. O. A., Itan Ilu Iwo. Kano, n.d.
Oguntuyi, A., A Short History of Ado Ekiti II. Self-published, n.d.
Oyebanji, J. A., Itan Igbagbo Ilu Oke Onigbin. Ilorin, n.d.
Oyerinde, N. D., Iwe Itan Ogbomoso. Jos,1934
Olorunyomi, J. O., Isin Ofosi no Igbede. Ilorin, 1914.
Omu Aran Students' Union, Agogo Olomu Aperin. Omu Aran, 1981.
Opadeji, S. O. History of Oba. mimeo, 1972
Solanke, L., The Egba-Yoruba constitutional Law and Its Historical Development. Lagos, 1931.
SELECTED SCHOLARLY STUDIES
Biobaku, S. O., Sources of Yoruba History. London, 1973
Falola, Toyin, ed., Yoruba Historiography, Wisconsin—Madison, 1991
Falola, Toyin, ed., The Pioneer, Patriot and Patriarch: Samuel Johnson and the Yoruba. Wisconsin-Madison, 1993, forthcoming.
Falola, Toyin, ed., African Historiography. Longman, 1993, forthcoming.
Falola, Toyin, "A Research Agenda on the Yoruba in the Nineteenth Century", History In Africa, 15, 1988, pp. 211-227.
Falola, Toyin, "Kemi Morgan and the Second Reconstruction of Ibadan history", History in Africa, 18, 1991, pp. 111-132.
Falola, Toyin, "The Minor Works of T. Ola Avoshe", History in Africa, 19, 1992, pp. 237-62.
Falola, Toyin, "Thirty Years of African Research and Publication," Geneve-Afrique, XXX, 2, 1992, pp. 193-7.
Falola, Toyin & Doortmont, M., "Iwe Itan Oyo: A Traditional Yoruba History and Its Author", Journal of African History, 30, 1989, pp. 301-329.
Law, R., "Early Yoruba Historiography", History in Africa, 3, 1976, pp. 68-89.
Peel, J. D. Y., "Making History: The Pat in the Ijesha Present", Man, 19,1, pp. 111-32.
passages | http://quod.lib.umich.edu/p/passages/