Bi baba bá kú, baba lo n’kù (When one father dies, another stands in).
– Yoruba proverb

“My people of Koko, I greet you. As you know, my father, the Baálẹ̀, is dead. And though I did not expect to take over his position at thirteen years old, it is with great humility that I accept the responsibility.” All around, townsfolk crane their necks straining to catch every word falling from my lips. They watch me and I too, watch them. I may be young, but I was born old, able to think wiser than my age.

As I watch, I notice old faces, those of my father’s chiefs and those older than him. They look back in challenge thinking, ‘what does this small boy have up his sleeve?’ I see young faces, restless for change hoping I’ll shake things up.

“Kara ole o, Baálẹ̀!” One of the elders, Chief Akingba salutes me bowing slightly. I acknowledge his greeting. “From time immemorial, your ancestors have been Baales of Koko as will your descendants after you.”

I breathe a sigh of relief. The Chief’s greeting legitimizes my rulership. If the elders accept me, those younger than them will do the same.

“I thank you, Sir. I thank everyone of you for welcoming me as your Baale. We have started well but we have a long way to go. I take the lead, not because it is convenient or because it is advantageous, after all Koko is only a small town on the side of the expressway between two large cities. I cannot from the position of Baale of Koko rise to political fame or great wealth. I do this because I love my community and I want to serve my people. I want to work with every one of you to move Koko into the 21st century and beyond.”

Heads nod across the room though I could sense I was already losing some of the youth. They were used to leaders making grand promises but delivering nothing. I must connect with them because they are vital to fulfilling the vision.