Respect - The Yoruba Way

 

The Yoruba differ from many other ethnic groups in southern Nigeria because respect for elders and people in positions of authority is deeply embedded in everyday culture. While outsiders may sometimes see this as excessive, pretentious, or even cowardly, in Yorubaland disrespecting an elder or other people reflects not only on the individual but also on their parents, family, community, friends, and peers. It can suggest that the person was not properly brought up. Yoruba take character, moral conduct, and existence, and being called ìwà, very seriously. 

I have seen this repeatedly in the UK. I have visited numerous homes of Yoruba friends and families, and parents often ensure their children, even when born and raised in Britain, greet an older Yoruba visitor properly. For a girl, this means kneeling; for a boy, prostrating. I have never asked or demanded that anyone do this. Many Yoruba parents regard it as an essential cultural courtesy. The thinking is that if a child cannot perform these basic forms of greeting, particularly when visiting another Yoruba household, the parents may feel they have failed to pass on an important part of their cultural heritage. It can be seen as evidence that the child has become completely detached from the culture in which the parents were raised.

On occasion, a young adult has gently touched me on the shoulder; women have knelt, and young men have performed a full prostration as a greeting. Although I hold a chieftaincy title from my village, very few people address me by it; most do so because of my age and the respect traditionally accorded to older people.

Yoruba culture extends this respect through an elaborate system of address and speech. Important distinctions exist between speaking to someone as an equal or younger person and speaking to someone older or of higher status. Pronouns, verb forms, greetings, titles, and the general tone of conversation can all change depending on the relationship between the speakers. For example, when speaking to a younger friend, you may use the singular form and speak in a familiar, informal manner. When addressing someone older or more senior, you may use the plural form as a mark of respect, even when speaking to a single individual. These conventions mean that, sometimes, within the first few sentences of a conversation, you can already tell how the speaker perceives the person they are addressing and the level of respect they intend to convey.

In this sense, language reflects character and upbringing. The words you choose, the way you greet people, and how you address them can reveal something about your family, your upbringing, and where you come from. Therefore, you have a strong social incentive to conduct yourself well, especially outside the home. You are not regarded as representing only yourself. Your behaviour reflects on your parents, your family and, to some extent, your community. That is why respect and good manners have traditionally held such an important place in Yoruba society.

Older Obasanjo (twice President of Nigeria) prostrating before a younger Yoruba King 

As a younger parent, when I saw comments in my children's school reports such as, "He is very respectful," "He is very disciplined," or "He is well behaved," it did not particularly surprise me. To me, that was simply what I expected of my sons. I don't know exactly where they got such good manners, though I suppose it must have come from us as their parents, especially since we didn't have many Yoruba friends around us. I had also assumed that, because school reports focused mainly on their educational progress, the teachers didn't need to spend much time commenting on their behaviour. Yet they noticed and thought it worth mentioning. The teachers echoed this during their end-of-term parent-teacher meetings, and they were all smiling.

It even worked in their favour when their younger brother subsequently went to the same school. The teachers already knew his older brothers and, because they had been "a pleasure to teach," they expected the same from their younger brother. I had never really thought of it that way. Looking back, I realise that I experienced something similar as a child. People who encountered me gave my parents constant feedback about my behaviour. And, in a sense, the same thing happened with my own children. Whether people knew they were my children or not, those who met them often gave me positive feedback about their manners and behaviour.

It made me realise you don't always notice good behaviour in your own children. You may simply take it for granted. But other people notice it—and when they do, their comments become feedback for the parents. In that sense, how your children conduct themselves can reflect their upbringing.

"Bi omode laso bi agba, ko le lakisa bi agba" 

("a child may have as many clothes as an elder, but he will never own as many rags as an elder")

In Yorubaland, elders are held in high regard, and this has little to do with money, wealth or social position. Once you reach a certain age, people are expected to show you a measure of respect. You don't necessarily have to earn it through your achievements or position; age itself carries significance. Of course, some people have abused this cultural respect. Some have used their age and reputation to manipulate others or con people out of their life savings. But once people know about such behaviour, they quickly stop listening. People may still acknowledge their age, but the authority and trust that came with it can disappear.

Interestingly, elders themselves seem to understand this social contract. In different settings at church, parties and other social gatherings, they often "respect themselves" by recognising that younger people also need space and time. Respect, therefore, is not entirely one-way; it creates an expectation of appropriate behaviour on both sides. We see similar principles in everyday life. On public transport, for example, a younger person might give up their seat for a pregnant woman, who might in turn offer her seat to an elderly person. There is a hierarchy of age and vulnerability, but also an understanding that everyone should show consideration to those who may need it most.

The Yoruba often find it uncomfortable to address certain people by their first names alone. They may add "Mr" or "Mrs" before the name, or use "Uncle" or "Auntie". Thus, someone named John might be addressed as "Mr John". Others may be addressed by their profession or a respectful title, such as "The Doctor" or "The Accountant". This is not mockery. Rather, it reflects a cultural discomfort with calling certain people by their first names, which may be considered appropriate only among particular relationships, such as parents, elders or peers. The choice of address communicates the relationship and the respect it carries.

I can give a personal example. I never addressed my senior brother by his first name alone; I always put "Brother" before it. Nobody instructed me to do so. Everyone around me did it, and I felt very uncomfortable calling him by his first name without that mark of respect. Another Yoruba tradition that outsiders might find strange concerns what happens when a woman marries and joins her husband's family. She is expected to show respect to the people she encounters in the household, often addressing them in ways that acknowledge their seniority, even when they are not older than she is. Some people may dismiss this as nonsense or an outdated custom. Yet, in my own extended family, the tradition was very much alive. All my uncles' wives call me "Uncle Tunde", even though they were in their twenties when I was still a teenager. The women who married into our extended family never addressed me by my first name alone; they used forms of address that expressed respect and deference.

When I married, my wife was not particularly familiar with our culture and language. I therefore explained some of our traditions to her and made sure she understood the appropriate forms of address and behaviour. When she later visited members of my extended family, they appreciated her effort to understand and respect their customs. They welcomed her warmly, and I believe her willingness to embrace these traditions helped her build a good relationship with them. Ultimately, these customs illustrate an important aspect of Yoruba culture: respect is expressed not only through actions, but also through words, behaviour, and recognition of relationships within the family and wider community. Although some traditions may seem old-fashioned to outsiders, understanding their cultural meaning helps explain why they remain important to many Yoruba people. Another interesting tradition I have noticed among us Yoruba is that your identity often changes once you have children. You become known as the father or mother of one of your children, usually the firstborn. So, Shade's father becomes Baba Shade, while Ade's mother becomes Iya Ade. If you have twins, however, you may acquire a rather special title: Baba Ibeji or Iya Ibeji, father or mother of twins. In some cases, people take on names so familiar within the community that I may not even know their real names! Interestingly, your profession or occupation can sometimes take precedence over the name you acquired through your children. My own grandfather, for example, was known as Baba Shop simply because he owned a small shop. A fascinating aspect of Yoruba culture is that people are often identified not just by their personal names, but by their family relationships, occupations, and roles in the community. In this way, a name becomes more than a label; it tells a little story about the person and their place in society. I didn't know my grandfather's name was James until after his death.

The Nupe, an ethnic group living north of the Yoruba, take formal greetings to another level. Their traditional greeting etiquette can involve elaborate gestures of deference, and a saying goes that whoever stands up first loses, turning the interaction into a contest of courtesy and respect.

The Yoruba have their own variations of this principle. Depending on the circumstances and the relationship between the people involved, a greeting may involve bowing, kneeling or, particularly among young men greeting an older man, a full prostration, sometimes with the chest or knees touching the ground. What may look extraordinary to an outsider is therefore not simply an elaborate ritual. It is part of a broader cultural system in which people visibly express age, courtesy, humility, and consideration for others through everyday behaviour.

In modern Yoruba society, people generally reserve full prostration for special occasions, such as weddings and other important ceremonies, and for showing respect to kings, traditional rulers, and certain senior leaders. In ordinary circumstances, many people will actually stop you if you attempt a full prostration. They assume you have made the gesture and don't expect you to go all the way to the floor. However, some hardcore traditionalists will insist on the full gesture. If you perform only the modified version, a partial or half-prostration sometimes jokingly described as "planting cassava", they may regard it as inadequate. They could be genuinely offended, seeing it as disrespectful. 

I have seen YouTube videos of foreigners embracing Yoruba culture, drawn to its distinctive traditions of respect, elegant dressing, music, and dance. One of the most striking aspects is the formal greeting: men prostrate themselves before elders, while women kneel, with the elders seated to receive them. It powerfully expresses respect, humility, and cultural identity, and it is fascinating to see people from other cultures appreciate and adopt these traditions.

This illustrates how Yoruba customs have adapted to modern life without disappearing. The underlying principle of showing respect remains strong, but its physical expression has become more flexible. For many people today, the intention behind the greeting matters almost as much as the traditional form itself.