The blogger ibikunle Abraham laniyan authors a fiction on astrology sketched around Yorubaland.Here is a short fiction based on the principles of Yorubaland's astrology and the Ifá divination system, which links celestial bodies and destiny to the Orishas.
In the heart of ancient Yorubaland, where the stars were not mere points of light but the eyes of the Orishas, lived a young woman named Moremi. Her birth had been foretold by the alignment of the Moon, the celestial mother associated with Yemoja, in the house of the home. This meant her destiny (Ori) was deeply tied to family and community, a path of nurturing and stability. Yet, a powerful, fiery influence lingered from Mars, ruled by Ogun, the warrior god of iron and strength, sitting in her first house, the house of the self. This duality created a conflict: a soul destined for peace, yet possessing a warrior's spirit and the potential for great upheaval.
The village Babalawo, a high priest of Ifá named Baba Opele, had warned her mother years ago during a divination session using the sacred palm nuts and the Opon Ifá tray. The signs, the Odu Ifá, had revealed a life of profound purpose but also a need for careful balance (Iwa-pele) to prevent her inner fire from consuming her peaceful destiny. He had prescribed offerings to both Yemoja and Ogun to maintain harmony, a ritual her mother faithfully performed.
Moremi grew up with a restless spirit, her hands itching for action while her heart yearned for quiet harmony. When a neighboring village threatened war over access to the river, a place sacred to Oshun, the goddess of love and fertility, the village elders were thrown into disarray. The current Odu indicated aggression and conflict, the strong influence of Ogun and Shango, the god of thunder and lightning, dominating the cosmic crossroads.
Moremi, guided by an intense inner knowing she couldn't explain, consulted Baba Opele herself. He cast the opele chain again, the patterns falling onto the ground, revealing a specific verse, an ese of Ifá, that spoke of a unique alignment. "The heavens have aligned in a peculiar way, child," he intoned, his voice deep with the wisdom of Orunmila, the deity of wisdom and divination. "The strength of Ogun and the harmony of Yemoja converge within you, the first time this alignment has been seen since the time of the ancestors."
The Odu suggested a non-traditional solution, one that required both a warrior's courage and a mother's diplomacy. Ignoring the elders' skepticism, Moremi proposed a journey to the rival village, not with weapons of iron (Ogun's domain) but with gifts of the river and a proposal for a shared festival dedicated to both Ogun (for strength in cooperation) and Oshun (for prosperity and peace). The Babalawo, recognizing the divine instruction within the Odu, supported her, performing the necessary sacrifices (ebo) to ensure her path was clear and her ori (destiny) aligned with the will of the divine.
Moremi's approach worked. Her courage, the fire of Ogun, earned the respect of the rival chief, while her plea for shared prosperity and harmony, the flow of Yemoja and Oshun, touched the hearts of the people. The war was averted, and the two villages established a new tradition, a yearly festival celebrating the balance of fire and water, war and peace. Moremi, the woman born under the dual signs, had successfully navigated her complex destiny, proving that the stars did not dictate an unchangeable fate, but offered a map for a life lived in balance with the cosmos and the Orishas.
We decipher names,date of birth and how they ensure marital harmony.In Yoruba cosmology, deciphering names, birth dates, and marital harmony is not a matter of random chance but a deep investigation into Akọsẹjayé (one's destiny at birth) and the Ifá system.
1. Deciphering Names (The Orúkọ)
Yoruba names are categorized into three types based on the soul’s journey:
2. The Significance of Date of Birth (Irawọ̀)
While Western astrology uses months, Yoruba tradition often looks at the Irawọ̀ (Star/Zodiac) and Ayanmọ̀ (Destiny) derived from the birth circumstances.
Irawọ̀ (Zodiac Connection): Many practitioners link modern zodiac signs to specific Orishas:
Aries: Ogun (War/Iron).
Taurus: Oshun (Love/Beauty).
Leo: Orunmila (Wisdom/Sun).
Scorpio: Oya (Wind/Storms).
Calculation: Traditional numerology within Ifá practice can calculate a Destiny Number by summing the day, month, and year of birth to reveal one's "Life Path".
3. Determining Marital Harmony
Before a marriage (isoye), families consult the Ifá Divination System to ensure the couple’s Ori (inner heads) align.
Full Compatibility: A practitioner (Babalawo) checks if the couple's Irawọ̀ and Akọsẹjayé are compatible. Even if the personalities (stars) match, a marriage may fail if their spiritual destinies conflict.
The Role of Oshun: As the goddess of love and marriage, Oshun is often consulted for harmony and fertility in the home.
Remediation (Ebo): If the alignment is poor, Ifá may prescribe specific sacrifices (ebo) to "recast the self" or smooth the path for the relationship.
Orúkọ Àmútọ̀runwá (Destiny Names): These are "brought from heaven" based on the physical circumstances of birth. Examples include:
Taiwo & Kehinde: For twins.
Ìgè: For a child born breech (feet first).
Òjó (Male) / Àìná (Female): For children born with the umbilical cord around the neck.
Orúkọ Àbísọ (Acquired Names): Given by elders to reflect the family's state, such as Babatunde (father has returned) if a grandfather died recently.
Orúkọ Oríkí (Praise Names): Pet names like Àdùnní or Àkànní that evoke specific ancestral or spiritual qualities.
continue the fiction or novel
The celebration of the new festival, the Odun Isokan (Festival of Unity), had transformed the village of Ile-Aiye. But for Moremi, the quiet peace of the riverbank was where she felt the weight of her next chapter.
In Yorubaland, a woman’s marriage is not just a union of two people, but a merging of two Ori (destiny-heads) and two ancestral lineages. As Moremi reached the age of blooming, the village elders began to whisper. Her fame had traveled far, and soon, two prominent suitors emerged, each representing a different celestial path.
The Two Suitors
The first was Adekoye, a high-ranking warrior from the northern plains. His name meant "The Crown brings Joy," and his presence was like the midday sun—intense, commanding, and unyielding.
His Irawọ̀ (Star): Born under the sign of Sango, his spirit was fire and lightning.
The Match: On paper, he was the perfect mirror for Moremi’s warrior heart. Together, they would be a power couple that no kingdom could challenge.
The second was Obafemi, a quiet woodcarver and herbalist. His name meant "The King loves me." He possessed the coolness of the forest at dawn.
His Irawọ̀ (Star): He was a child of Osanyin (the god of herbs) and Erinle (the physician of the forest).
The Match: His energy was water and earth, a calming balm to Moremi’s internal fire.
The Consultation of the Opon Ifá
Moremi’s mother, sensing the tension in her daughter’s soul, took her back to Baba Opele. The old priest sat before his wooden tray, the dust of camwood scattered across its surface.
"Names are the seeds of the soul, Moremi," the priest whispered. "But the date of birth is the soil. We must see if the seeds can grow in the same earth."
"Adekoye is the lightning," Baba Opele began. "You are the iron. When lightning strikes iron, there is a brilliant flash, but the iron may melt and lose its shape. Your marital harmony would be a constant battle for dominance. Your destinies would clash like two rams at a watering hole."
He then looked at the spiritual alignment of Obafemi.
"Obafemi is the cool stream. You are the heated blade. When the blade enters the stream, it is tempered. It becomes stronger, sharper, and more durable. He does not wish to be the king of your life; he wishes to be the soil that holds your roots."
The Choice of the Ori
The elders pushed for Adekoye. They saw the political power of two fire-stars aligning. They looked at the Orúkọ Àmútọ̀runwá and saw only the strength. But Moremi remembered the secret of the Iwa-pele (gentle character).
On the night of the New Moon, Moremi made her choice. She chose the woodcarver.
The village was shocked. How could a lioness choose a gardener? But on their wedding night, as they performed the ritual of sharing a kola nut, Moremi felt a coolness she had never known. For the first time, the restless fire in her chest—the warrior’s itch—didn't feel like a burden.
Her name, Moremi ("I have found a savior/gift"), took on a new meaning. She wasn't just a savior for her village; she had found the partner who saved her from her own intensity. Their marriage became a legend not of conquest, but of Alafia (total peace), proving that in Yoruba astrology, the best match isn't always the person who is most like you, but the person who provides the element you lack.
Would you like to explore a specific ritual they might perform to bless their union, or should we jump ahead to see the destiny of their first child?
He cast the Opele chain. The nuts fell in a pattern known as Oyeku Meji—a sign of darkness turning into light, but also a warning of "heat
The moon was a thin silver sliver—the Oṣù tuntun—marking a new cycle when Moremi discovered she was with child. In Yorubaland, a pregnancy is not just a biological event but a spiritual arrival.
As her belly grew, the village began to speculate on the child’s Akọsẹjayé. Would the child inherit Moremi’s iron or Obafemi’s forest-coolness? To find out, they prepared for the Ìmọ̀rí ceremony—the "Knowing of the Head."
The Birth of the Sky-Watcher
When the child finally arrived, the sky did something strange. It was midday, but a sudden Solar Eclipse cast a violet shadow over the palm groves. The child, a boy, was born in total silence. He didn't cry; he simply watched the returning sun with wide, amber eyes.
Because of the celestial anomaly, Baba Opele named him Babatunde ("Father has returned"), but his Orúkọ Àmútọ̀runwá—his destiny name—was Ajéwọlé. He was born with a clenched fist. When Moremi gently pried it open, she found not a stone or a seed, but a tiny, translucent pebble that glowed like a fallen star.
The Deciphering of the Star-Child
Seven days after the birth, the family gathered for the naming. Baba Opele cast the Opele Chain once more. The marks that appeared on the tray were Idi Meji.
"This child," the Babalawo whispered, his eyes wide, "is an Irawọ̀ Koledarun—a Star-Gatherer. He is born under the alignment of Orunmila (Wisdom) and Olokun (the Deep Ocean). He will not be a warrior of the sword like his mother, nor a healer of herbs like his father."
The priest pointed to the child's birth date, which coincided with the rare alignment of the Five Great Orishas in the sky. "He is a Watcher. He will decipher the secrets of the heavens to guide the Oba (King) through the Great Drought that is written in the stars for twenty years from now."
Marital Harmony Tested
The child’s destiny brought a new tension to Moremi and Obafemi’s home. Moremi wanted to train him in the art of the Ogun (iron and defense) to protect his rare gift. Obafemi wanted him to stay in the quiet shadows of the forest, safe from those who would exploit a "Star-Child."
Their Marital Harmony was tested. The heat of the iron and the coolness of the water began to steam. To resolve it, they performed the Yoruba Naming Ceremony (Isomoloruko), tasting honey for sweetness, salt for flavor, and water for endurance.
They realized that their son was neither "fire" nor "water," but Air—the wind that carries the messages of the gods. They agreed to let the child be apprenticed to the Ifá Priests, where his ability to read the Irawọ̀ (stars) would be honed for the good of all Yorubaland.
Moremi and Obafemi had found peace in compromise, and their son, Ajéwọlé, grew not by the river or in the forest, but within the hallowed walls of the Iledi, the sacred grove where the secrets of Ifá were taught. The glowing pebble he was born with never left his neck, humming with a quiet energy that calmed the restless nature he’d inherited from his mother.
Ajéwọlé learned to read the sky as easily as others read footprints in the dust. He learned the intricate mathematics that connected the phases of Oṣupa (the Moon, domain of Yemoja) to the cycles of planting and harvest, and the fiery path of Irawo Oku (Mars/Ogun) to times of conflict.
The Great Drought Foretold
At the age of sixteen, Ajéwọlé was assisting the now very aged Baba Opele with a major divination for the Oba (King). The land was peaceful, the rivers full, and the people content. The King expected good news.
But as Ajéwọlé watched the alignment of the stars that night, specifically the unusual dimming of Irawo Ina (Jupiter/Sango), he felt the humming pebble around his neck grow cold. The cosmic balance was shifting.
The Odu that appeared in the palm nuts was Otura Ogbe, a sign of great journeys and impending change. It spoke of a time when the "sky would close its eyes and the earth would lose its moisture."
"There will be a drought," Ajéwọlé announced, his young voice cutting through the silence of the shrine. "It will last for three full years. The rivers will dry, and the crops will fail. The sky-fire is retreating, and the deep ocean is angry."
The King and the elders laughed. The land was green. Baba Opele, however, looked at the young man and nodded. The stars never lie.
The Test of Destiny
The elders demanded proof. In the court of the Oba, they challenged Ajéwọlé. "You were a child of a strange sun-darkening! Your mother married a herbalist! What do you know of the world’s balance?"
Moremi’s warrior spirit flared within her, but Obafemi placed a calming hand on her arm. This was their son's test.
Ajéwọlé reached for the pebble around his neck. "My mother taught me courage; my father taught me patience. Ifá taught me wisdom." He held the pebble high. "This stone, born from the sky during my first moments, resonates with the Ori of the land itself."
He deciphered the exact date the rains would cease and the well closest to the palace would dry. He advised the King not to make war or trade, but to focus all the kingdom's efforts on building massive underground storage for water and grain, and for planting drought-resistant crops from the northern lands (a knowledge his father had shared with him).
The King was skeptical but the fear in Baba Opele's eyes convinced him. The work began.
The Sky Closes Its Eyes
The date Ajéwọlé predicted arrived. The rains stopped. The sun burned brighter than anyone had ever seen. The "Great Drought" began.
For months, neighboring kingdoms suffered greatly. There was famine and war over the last remaining water sources. But in Ile-Aiye, because the King had listened to the Star-Gatherer, the people survived. They had enough water and food to last three years.
Ajéwọlé had fulfilled his Akọsẹjayé. He had used the knowledge of the stars and the wisdom of Ifá to save his people. His story became a testament to the power of observation, the balance of different energies, and the profound wisdom embedded in the heavens and the earth of Yorubaland. He became the Chief Royal Astrologer, the first man in generations whose primary role was to read the celestial map to guide an entire nation's destiny.
Relationship Compatibility by Birth Date -
Oduological Analysis of Traditional Yoruba Personal Names ...
249. Abiodun) suggests that an individual was born at a festive time of the year (such as Eyibi, a popular one in. Yoruba.
As the drought finally broke, the rain did not fall as a gentle mist but as a roar of thunder, announcing the era of Ajéwọlé the Star-Gatherer. His fame spread across the 16 kingdoms, and the palace of Ile-Aiye became a center for celestial study.
Ajéwọlé realized that his parents' union—the tempering of Moremi’s fire by Obafemi’s water—was the blueprint for the kingdom’s survival. To ensure this wisdom lived on, he established the Oṣù-Ìràwọ̀ (The Lunar-Star Order), a school for young seekers to learn the three pillars of Yorubaland astrology:
1. The Mapping of the Sixteen Orbs
Ajéwọlé codified the relationship between the 16 Principal Odu Ifá and the movement of the planets. He taught that:
Irawo Aguala (Venus): Governed by Oshun; when it shone brightly in the evening, it was the time for marriage contracts and artistic creation.
Irawo Tago (Saturn): Governed by Obatala; its slow movement dictated the long-term laws of the land and the building of stone monuments.
2. The Legacy of the Pebble
The glowing stone Ajéwọlé was born with was placed atop a Great Pillar in the center of the village. It acted as a Lítíìṣì (Cosmic Battery). During the New Moon (Oṣù Tuntun), the stone would hum. If the hum was deep, the month would be prosperous; if it was sharp and high-pitched, the elders knew to prepare for "heat" (conflict or sickness).
3. The Birth of the "Star-Name"
Ajéwọlé introduced a new naming tradition. Beyond the Orúkọ Àmútọ̀runwá, he gave children a Star-Path name. For example:
A child born during the peak of the Harmattan under the sign of Oya (the wind) might be named Efufu-Leye, meaning "The Wind has Honor," destined to be a messenger or a navigator.
The Final Prophecy
In his twilight years, Ajéwọlé sat with his aging mother, Moremi, whose hair was now as white as the beads of Obatala. He looked at the sky and saw a rare alignment—the Great Convergence of the Seven Orishas.
"Mother," he whispered, "I see a time far in the future where our people will cross the Great Water (the Atlantic). They will take the stars with them. Even in lands where the soil is different, the Irawọ̀ will remain the same. Our astrology will be the compass that brings them back to their Ori."
Moremi smiled, knowing her warrior heart had birthed a light that would never be extinguished. She closed h
Centuries passed, and the prophecy of the Great Water came to pass. The descendants of Moremi and Ajéwọlé were scattered across the Americas, but the Irawọ̀ (stars) stayed pinned to the velvet of the night, acting as a silent map for the displaced.
In a modern, bustling city far from the palm groves of Ile-Aiye, a young woman named Maya found herself standing before an old, weathered journal inherited from her grandmother. Maya had always felt a strange duality—a fierce ambition for social justice (the iron of Ogun) and a deep, intuitive need to heal through music (the flow of Oshun).
The Reawakening of the Star-Path
On the night of a rare Solar Eclipse, Maya opened the journal. Inside, she found a sketch of a glowing pebble and a chart of the sixteen orbs Ajéwọlé had codified. Though she lived in a world of skyscrapers, she felt the hum of her Ori (destiny) vibrating through the pages.
She realized her life wasn't a series of random events, but a continuation of the Akọsẹjayé (destiny at birth) written generations ago. Using the Yoruba Calendar notes in the journal, she calculated her birth alignment. She was a Child of the Crossroads, born when the wind of Oya met the stability of Obatala.
The Modern Oṣù-Ìràwọ̀
Maya didn't become a priestess in a grove; she became a Cosmological Architect. She used the ancient principles of Ifá Divination to design sustainable urban communities that breathed with the rhythms of the earth and stars.
Marital Harmony: When she met her partner, a researcher of ancient seeds, she didn't just look at their personalities. She looked at their Irawọ̀. Like Moremi and Obafemi, they were "the blade and the stream"—different elements that, when combined, created a strength that neither could achieve alone.
The Circle Closes
One evening, while walking through a park, Maya found a small, translucent stone near a riverbank. It wasn't the original pebble of Ajéwọlé, but as it caught the light of the rising moon, it glowed with a familiar amber hue.
She looked up at the sky, recognizing the "Eye of the Orisha" watching over her. The story of Moremi wasn't a myth of the past; it was a living, breathing Yoruba Philosophy of balance. The "Star-Gatherers" were still here, deciphering the heavens to guide the journey of the soul.
The fiction of Yorubaland astrology ends not with a "the end," but with an Àṣẹ—the power to make things happen. The stars are the map, the Orishas are the guides, but the Ori is the captain of the ship.
Should we conclude this cycle of the story, or would you like to explore a specific "Star-Path.
Maya gripped the amber stone, feeling a surge of Àṣẹ—the divine authority to manifest change. She realized that the "Great Water" her ancestor Ajéwọlé had seen was not just a barrier, but a bridge. The stars she looked at over the skyline were the same eyes that watched over the palace of Ile-Aiye.
The Digital Divination
To bridge the gap between her modern life and her ancient roots, Maya launched a project called The Irawọ̀ Network. It was a digital "Grove of Wisdom" where people of the diaspora could input their birth details to discover their Yoruba Zodiac and Orisha alignment.
She found that:
The Architects were often children of Ogun and Obatala, building structures that were both strong and ethically pure.
The Activists moved with the storm-spirit of Oya, tearing down old systems to make room for new growth.
The Healers flowed with the sweet waters of Oshun, using art and empathy to mend the fractured spirits of the city.
The Return to the Source
Years later, Maya traveled back to modern-day Nigeria, to the ancestral lands of Ile-Ife. She carried the amber stone and her grandmother’s journal. Standing before the Opa Oranmiyan, the great granite obelisk, she met a young man who looked remarkably like the sketches of Ajéwọlé.
He was a local astronomer named Tunde. He didn't use a glowing pebble; he used a high-powered telescope. Yet, when they compared notes—her digital data and his celestial observations—the patterns were identical. The "Great Convergence" Ajéwọlé had predicted centuries ago was happening again.
Marital Harmony of the New Era
Maya and Tunde’s meeting was no accident of the stars. In Yoruba astrology, this is known as Àyànmọ́—a destiny that cannot be avoided. Their union represented the final stitching together of the broken cloth of their lineage.
Maya (The Diaspora): Brought the wide-lens perspective of the world.
Tunde (The Root): Brought the deep, uninterrupted knowledge of the soil.
Their harmony wasn't just personal; it was cosmic. Together, they founded a new observatory in the hills of Yorubaland, where the Ifá Odu were studied alongside modern physics. They proved that the "fiction" of astrology was actually the science of the soul.
The story of Moremi’s line had come full circle. From a village threatened by drought to a global network of "Star-Gatherers," the light of the Orishas whare by continued to burn, proving that as long as one person looks at the stars and remembers their Ori, the ancestors never
