On a chilly, very cold dawn, Alabahun, the Tortoise was caught red-handed by his father-in- law harvesting tubers of yam. The father-in-law was so furious that he decided not only to punish Alabahun but also to disgrace him. Fortuitously for the father-in-law, it was a market day when the whole village gather to buy and sell.

He tied Alabahun up hands and legs, dragged him to the market road and displayed him conspicuously by the wayside, along with the stolen tubers of yam, and with a sign that reads: ‘Shameless thief, caught harvesting yams.’ Alabahun was duly insulted, buffeted and spat upon by people going to the market.

The father-in-law law enjoyed the spectacle so much that he decided to keep Alabahun tied up all day so his humiliation can continue when people return from the market. All day long Alabahun was tied up, tired, hungry, disgraced but kept his mouth shut, not saying a word.

At dusk, people returning from the market were surprised to see both of them still there in same condition: the father-in-law sitting in the shade, occasionally hitting Alabahun, repeating his offence to everyone. One after another the people turned on the father-in-law, calling him terrible names, describing him as wicked, unforgiving, vengeful and inhuman.

Rather than relent, the father-in-law persisted, hoping that the next group of market returnees will support his actions. None did. Everyone now blamed the father-in-law. The most common refrain was ‘yes, Alabahun stole your yam but he wasn’t going to consume all by himself; your daughter, his wife, and your grandchildren will also partake therein’. Thoroughly chastened, the father-in-law had to untie Alabahun, had to leave the stolen tubers of yam, and went away disgraced, with Alabahun becoming an unlikely victim and hero.

This is the story behind the Yoruba saying: ‘A lo ni ti Alabahun, Abo ni ti Ana e’,: translated as ‘justified insults on Alabahun by market goers, the opprobrium on his in-law when returning’. The Alabahun story reveals the nature of the traditional Yoruba society. Its abhorrence of crime, and collective determination to ensure that no individual disrupts the ethos of the society.

It demonstrates societal notions of crime and punishment. Offenders are universally condemned and punishments are communally inflicted. It is the society that punishes, not individuals; an injury to one is an injury to all. However, the society also dislikes excessive behaviour. It condemns wickedness, unforgiveness, and vengeful actions.

Crime and punishment is equally mediated by rehabilitation and forgiveness. No one is eternally condemned and dismissed as beyond redemption. Especially close family members. ‘Omo eni o ki buru, ka gbe f’ekun pa je’ (regardless of how prone a child is to errors, one does not feed him/her to a leopard). Extreme injustice usually results in collective sympathy for the victim.

The Alabahun story also invites a careful scrutiny and beyond-the-surface examination of interpersonal relationships among family mambers. There could be more than is generally known. In this instance, there’s a compelling need to understand the erstwhile relationship between Alabahun and his father-in-law that probably explains the excessive actions of the father-in-law.

This is the crux of the whole story: An examination of the character profile of main protagonists in all situations. The story also directed attention to a curious cultural practice, not only in Yorubaland but in most African societies: What do you do with your wealth? With whom do you share your good fortune?

From where does your charity begin? At home, with your closest and dearest, or with no one? The community members were philosophically raising these issues when they asserted that Alabahun wasn’t going to consume the stolen yam alone. This is not about the stolen loot but about the consumption pattern and societal philosophy.

It is necessary to now interrogate Alabahun’s relationship with his traducer before the unfortunate incident. Alabahun’s father-in-law was the most influential person in the community: rich, feared and respected. His word was law. No one dared to cross his path. He was intolerant of opposition and could not stand competition.

He helped no one, mentored no one. And he certainly cannot stand those who aspire to be like him. Alabahun was his employee. Hard working, dedicated and industrious but came from a humble background. The rich man’s daughter fell in love with him and insisted on marrying Alabahun despite her father’s expressed disapproval.

Since then, Alabahun was a marked man; but because of his industry and business acumen in managing his father-in-law’s farm, he wasn’t dealt with immediately. Alabahun’s fate was sealed the day people began attributing the man’s increasing prosperity to Alabahun. He was summarily dismissed. He was also blacklisted.

No one dared to assist him or employ him for fear of offending the father-in-law. Gradually Alabahun sank into penury, starving along with his wife and children. All entreaties to the father-in-law proved abortive, until one day Alabahun decided to furtively harvest yam from his father- in-law’s farm. And he got caught.

Soon after, a curious twist of fate began to happen. Alabahun became gradually integrated back into the society. Through thrifty management of resources and relentless hard work, he was becoming successful. His father-in-law began to experience serious negative and disruptive business fortunes. His earlier treatment of his son-in-law caused his workers to be over cautious in handling his business, thereby losing to other competitors.

The community members shunned his business, preferring to deal with less vengeful customers. Almost without warning he was facing not only bankruptcy but also physical, mental and reputational ruination. Not many people would assist him. He had helped few, mentored none. Perhaps the only person who can turn his fortune around was Alabahun, who posseses all the needed skills and knowledge required. But pride would not permit him to acknowledge this. He would rather sink than admit his error. ‘What would people say?’ All his life he must be the only one that matters in his family, either him or no one else.

A Yoruba proverb applies to this situation: ‘E ni t’oni ki ara ile oun ma se rere, koni r’eni sa si l’ojo isoro’. A man that would want success for others rather than for his own relatives would have no one to run to in days of trouble. Charity they say begins at home.

But times change and societies are transformed, and the concepts of home, family and neighbours also became more expansive. In multicultural societies group membership can run into hundreds and even thousands with corresponding increase in expectations and obligations.

Interpreting the Alabahun story in present day Nigeria is an exploration into the deepest recess of human complexity. It is like the Herculean task of attempting to count Adepele’s fabled dentition, with its numerous shape-shifting composition: multiple incisors intertwined with canines, errant premolars and molars struggling for space within the confines of a single mouth, each type sometime distinctly recognisable, at times barely identifiable.

Professor Omololu lectures at the Department of Sociology, University of Ibadan