Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.
William Butler Yeats’ prophetic lines, “Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold,” echo with chilling relevance in the tumultuous world of Basorun Gaa. This cinematic masterpiece, directed by Bolanle Austin Peters, is a visceral exploration of power, family, and the corrosive nature of betrayal.
Although I have read the book and know the story of Basorun Ga’a the son of Yau Yamba to a point, I wanted to see how this story would play out on screen. I wasn’t sure what the hype about this movie was all about.
So, on a tired night, taking a sip of The Macallan 15-year-old with peppered lamb chops, I wondered, as I settled down to watch the movie if I would be watching a depiction of The Lord of the Rings, The Witcher, or A Game of Thrones told in African folklore.
The film plunges us into the heart of the ancient Oyo empire, a realm where ambition and bloodlust intertwine. Basorun Gaa, a complex figure, is both a revered warlord and a monstrous patriarch. He is a man defined by extremes, a fervent believer in family yet capable of the most heinous acts.
Austin Peters masterfully weaves together a narrative that is as epic as it is intimate. The sprawling saga of the Oyo Empire serves as the perfect background to the deeply personal tragedies of Gaa and his family. The film is a visual feast, with stunning cinematography capturing the grandeur and brutality of the era.
At its core, “House of Ga’a” is a story about the destructive power of unchecked ambition. Gaa’s obsession with power eclipses his humanity, leading to a chain of events that will shatter his family and kingdom. The film doesn’t shy away from the darker aspects of human nature, exploring themes of love, murder, and betrayal with unflinching honesty.
Basorun Ga’a was depicted as a menace that every society needed. Although the ills of the old Oyó empire weren’t the focus of the story nor detailed enough to justify why the warlord did what he did, Basorun Gaa was a story of blood told in poems.
Something must kill a man. For some, it’s the striking note from a jigger that shivers down the throat, for others, it is the love of money and the merrier things it would buy but for our warlord, Basorun Gaa himself, it was a bit of everything man stood for. An appellate yet aberration to morality, Gaa had the uniqueness of an African man, he was a communist who held family above all else
Family is the backbone of every society. Ga’a’s obnoxious love for his family was decorated throughout the movie, from the opening scene with his victorious entourage where all his children were a part of his army that had just invaded, conquered Nupe kingdom and was set to share the spoils of war.
However, the idea of family in itself is flawed by Basorun Gaa. The way he treated and disgraced his brother, Olubo, tagged him as a drunkard and discarded him because of his found pleasure in alcohol, showed how flawed his idea was. He went ahead to install his brothers across the empire as chiefs and lords and left Olubo out of the equation despite showing us in act and war what family meant to him.
King Abiodun, The Alafin of Oyo and a puppet ruler installed by the powerful Gaa was plunged into a maelstrom of grief and rage when Gaa murdered his daughter. Driven by a father’s vengeful spirit, Abiodun would later command the wrath of a pained father, unleashing a brutal massacre and wiping out the entire lineage of Gaa, including innocent women and children whom he feared might revolt against him.
In a chilling display of ingratitude, after being assisted by Olubo to wipe out his own family, Abiodun, in turn, repaid his ally, Olubo, with treachery, by beheading him, betraying even the man who helped him in the annihilation of the Basorun family. This stark betrayal goes on to show the ruthless nature of politics, where loyalty is a fickle commodity, wielded by those in power as a tool of manipulation.
Another bit that was a stronger part of Gaa yet tamed was his love for women. I said tamed because when it came to the love of women, Gaa had the least of it. It would be an eyesore to mention the biblical king Solomon, King Akbar or Genghis Khan and Gaa in the same sentence. If they had sewn a kaftan, Gaa wouldn’t have measured a quarter of their emblem.
The film’s exploration of the complex dynamics of family is particularly compelling. Gaa’s distorted view of familial love is juxtaposed with the genuine affection shared by other characters. The love between Oyemekun and Agbonrin is a poignant counterpoint to this pervasive violence.
Gaa would have been the young Asta of the Black Clovers whose sword cleans the magic of darkness that has bitten deep into the land albeit, Gaa was the darkness himself, even to his own family.
Yet, amidst the darkness, the man with many wives will still take the woman favoured by his first son as a wife and would later commit an atrocious act that his son would never forgive, but did Gaa care?
Basorun Gaa in his utmost shamelessness looked his son Olaotan in the eyes and took the slave girl he had set his eyes on as his wife. Olaitan was furious but as the Yoruba would say “Ti Oba ni ase” (The king owns all authority).
Nonetheless, it wasn’t the love of a woman that killed Gaa or set Oyemekun into a deep sea of his creation. It was the lack of boundaries that made Gaa a raging lunatic chasing after whirlwinds.
After the death of Olukoye, Agbonrin’s husband and Gaa’s younger brother. Agbonrin and Oyemekun were happy. Despite what their love had passed through, fate would once again bring them together in matrimony. One he promised he would forever cherish. Basorun Gaa has first pushed him aside by betrothing Agbonrin to his uncle and now, he had hoped his father would rewrite the wrong and join him and Agbonrin together.
The family had gathered in the hall of the Basorun to mourn the death of their son, Olukoye. Amidst their sorrow, Agbonrin’s beauty was a radiant beacon. Oyemekun sat by his father, struck by the beauty of Agbonrin that he could not take his eyes off her. Her gorgeous face, despite birthing a son for his uncle, her beauty had not faded a bit and it was in this ailment of love, the stare of love that he did not hear his father claiming Agbonrin as his wife.
It was when he saw the string of tears flowing from Agbonrin’s eyes that he realised his father’s sin. And once again, that which he wanted, the only thing he had ever wished for in his entire life was once again taken away from him by his father.
Betrayal, a bitter pill, forced Oyemekun to confront the monstrous side of his father. With a heavy heart and a spirit crushed, he abandoned his family, carrying the weight of his shattered dreams and the burden of igniting the fire that would raze his entire kinsmen.
The once joyous family transformed into a scene of horror as Agbonrin’s tears mirrored the pain in Oyemekun’s heart.
Basorun Gaa’s paralysis was a cold one. It struck at the height of his power, a cruel twist of fate. Desperate to regain his mobility, he turned to his herbalist, who sought divine guidance. The oracle demanded an Agbonrin, a rare antelope, as a sacrificial offering. Gaa unleashed his army into the unforgiving forest, but the elusive creature remained hidden. As days turned into weeks, Gaa’s impatience grew. When he pressed his herbalist for answers, without mincing words the blunt reply came: “We cannot find Agbonrin.”
Gaa’s response would send a cold down their spine, Gaa turned around on his bed and looked out to the window “There’s Agbonrin”. In a moment of monstrous desperation, Gaa ordered the unthinkable. Agbonrin, the princess, was to be sacrificed to restore his health.
The herbalist was surprised “My lord, it is Agbonrin the animal that we need not Agbonrin the human “ but Gaa would care less and Agbonrin the princess was pounded in a mortar and used as a concussion for Gaa’s restoration.
Killing a man’s daughter while he is still alive is a different sacrilege of epic proportions but to kill a king’s daughter while he is alive must be narcotics. I am not sure if opium existed in the old oyó empire but I’m sure Basorun Gaa must be sniffing on it or something close. The depths of Basorun Gaa’s depravity are unfathomable.
Betrayal is a poison that corrodes from within. Its taste is bitter, its consequences are deadly. King Abiodun, a father consumed by grief and rage, embarked on a perilous journey to meet with Aaare Oyabo to seek vengeance on Basorun Gaa. His appearance, a stark contrast to the regal bearing expected of a king, was as shocking as the news of his daughter’s murder. His attire and manner made me remember the story of Alameiseigha.
As Nicolo Machiavelli rightly puts it “The best fortress is to be found in the love of the people, for although you may have fortresses, they will not save you if you are hated by the people.”
Ga’a, ever the opportunist, sought refuge among the Oyomesi, a powerful council. He swore allegiance, forging a pact of mutual protection. Yet, as fate would have it, these supposed allies were as treacherous as the man they had welcomed into their fold. Their ultimate betrayal was a dagger to the heart of trust and loyalty.
“House of Ga’a” is more than just a historical drama; it is a cautionary tale about the dangers of unchecked power. It is a film that will stay with you long after the credits roll, prompting reflection on the nature of good and evil, love and hate, loyalty and betrayal.
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