When I finally yielded to family pressure to visit one of Nigeria’s most historic cultural landmarks, Olumo Rock, located at Ikija Area of Abeokuta, in Abeokuta North Local Government, and fixed the date for Friday, August 29, 2025, a wave of excitement swept through our home. From the base, Olumo is 137 metre above the sea level, and almost 450 feets tall. It had been far too long since we went out together as a family, and the children could hardly contain their joy.
Overview of Abeokuta from the Topmost of the Rock
The youngest was especially thrilled. With a wide smile, she exclaimed, “Daddy, this is the first time I’ll be traveling out of Ibadan. I’m so happy that Ogun State, my state, will be the first I’ll know apart from Oyo State where I was born. Dad, how close is Abeokuta to Imala, our town?”
“Thirty minutes’ drive,” I replied.
“Can we take the opportunity to visit? I want to know my roots,” she pressed eagerly.
I smiled and answered gently: “It will take the whole day to explore Olumo Rock. This is what we’ll do – first, let us dedicate a day to Olumo Rock. Afterwards, we’ll return to Abeokuta to drive around and see other historic places: Itoku where Adire is sold, the Ogun River, the governor’s office and House of Assembly, the cultural centre, the MKO monuments like MKO Stadium, and MKO Polytechnic, formally known as Ogun State Polytechnic, the Alake’s Palace, the national libraries, schools like Federal College of Education, Osiele, Federal College of Agriculture, Abeokuta (FUNAB), and more. We’ll also visit family members. After that, we’ll go to Imala, where we may spend a few days.”
Since my grandparents passed away, visits to our hometown had slowed down. The family house is now occupied by caretakers. That little conversation with my daughter rekindled something in me. Preparations began in earnest.
My wife, ever practical, insisted that we travel light but well-prepared. She packed jollof rice, fried chicken, and chilled drinks in coolers, knowing full well how hunger or fatigue can sour the spirit of an outing.
The children, meanwhile, were more fascinated by the prospect of the train ride than the rock itself. To them, boarding the Ibadan-Lagos standard train was the true adventure. Their eagerness infected me, turning my own anticipation into childlike wonder.
We set out early for Moniya station. The morning air was crisp, filled with expectation. Veering off the main Moniya Road, the road leading to Obafemi Awolowo Train Station is untarred – quite detrimental to vehicles just like the road from Olokuta to Prof Wole Soyinka train Station in Abeokuta. At the gate, we paid N500 parking fee to leave our car in the station lot, relieved that it was safe and secure until our return. Cars that are only dropping passengers without waiting are charged N200. To avoid this charge, passenger disembark at the entrance of the car park, which makes no difference in term of the distance to where the train will be boarded. In the waiting hall, different train staff approach the passengers to beg for money – quite embarrassing. This act is peculiar to all the train stations.
Finally, we boarded. Inside, boarding the train felt like stepping into another world, the coaches were clean, even the restrooms were sparkling, the seats comfortable, and the gentle rhythm of movement soon lulled us into quiet reflection. Meat pies and soft drinks sellers were moving from one coach to the other and passengers were buying. Immediately the train moved, many passengers begged for the air condition be switched off – rather than granting the request, it was adjusted for everyone’s comfort.
Through the wide windows, the countryside unfolded: bush stretching endlessly, villages flashing by, the lush green of Oyo State giving way to the hill landscapes of Ogun.
At one point, my youngest leaned close to me and whispered, “Daddy, I feel like we are not going to alight from this train maybe stay inside for more hours.” We laughed, but inside me, gratitude swelled. In that moment, the train was more than transport – it was memory in the making.
Within an hour, we rolled into Prof Wole Soyinka’s Train Station, Abeokuta, where the announcer announced, “ladies and gentlemen, we have arrived at Prof Wole Soyinka Train Station, Abeokuta. For our passengers alighting, don’t forget to take all your belongings. The train will stay for just three minutes and afterwards, proceed.” Anyway, at Abeokuta, the real adventure was about to begin.
The station buzzed with life. Taxi drivers, commercial motorcyclists popularly called “olokada” in Nigeria and tricyclists popularly called Marwa drivers swarmed, each vying for passengers to exploit. But before we could step out, something caught my attention: a handful of railway staff quietly approaching passengers, almost sheepishly, to beg for “something small.” It was an odd, disheartening sight, government employees reduced to pleading, as if the dignity of their uniforms no longer carried weight. I slipped them nothing but couldn’t shake the thought that even here, Nigeria’s economic struggles showed themselves. Shame to the successive capitalist governments, that have pauperized their citizens, making them to live far below a $1 per day.
Road from Olokuta Junction to Soyinka Train Station
To avoid the exploitation of the shylock commercial motorists, cyclists, and tricyclists, we moved away from the train station as a kind man advised if we wanted cheaper transport fare. Then came the ritual of bargaining the transport fare.
“₦1,000 to Olokuta,” a transporter announced confidently.
“That’s too much,” I countered with a smile.
Back and forth we went until we agreed on a fair price. It was not just about the money; it was about engaging the city on its own terms. My children watched with fascination, amused by the performance of it all.
As we navigated through Abeokuta, the city revealed its character. Streets teeming with traders, colonial-era structures struggle for their spaces with modern buildings, and the rocky terrain seemed to echo the resilience of its people. Indeed, the state capital has been transformed. Overhead bridges everywhere. Even, the road to Olumo Rock has been widely dualized. For me, it was nostalgia; for my children, discovery.
Nothing prepares you for the first sight of Olumo Rock. Rising like a giant sentinel, the granite outcrop has watched over Abeokuta for centuries. For the Egba people, it is not just stone but a symbol of survival, a fortress that sheltered them from invaders during the 19th-century inter-tribal wars.
At the gate, we paid our entry fees of N3000 and N1500 respectively for the adults and children not more than 14 years, the fees considered high as we were told that the Ogun State Government just hike the entry fees.
Tour guides were stationed at each historic spot to gives historical facts of the centre. “Climbing Olumo Rock is not just exercise,” one of them said. “It is walking through history.”
The children’s eyes widened. The climb had begun. Step by step, we ascended until we got to where the first set of tour guide were, who welcomed us. “You have climbed 120 steps to get to this spot called Lisabi Garden. The garden was named after Lisabi, the leader of Egba warrior, who defeated Oyo warriors that usually invaded the city. This tree by my left side is called Igi Dongoyaro. Its leaves and bark are medicinal and cure all manner of malaria sickness. As you climb, you meet other tour guides who will tell you more about this place”, she said.
From this spot, the rock started revealing itself in layers: ancient caves that once sheltered warriors, shrines still maintained by traditional priests, carvings etched by history’s hand.
Shrine Custodian
The second spot is called Ojubo Orisa Olumo as revealed by Salawu, the second guide spoke with reverence: Pointing to the shrine, he said, “the city paramount ruler, Alake and the chief priest are the only ones that can enter into this closed shrine. They do this annually in the month of August. Alake will pray for the nation, Abeokuta, tourists who come here, pray against accident on the rock.” An old man in “Ankara” attire was sighted putting hot drink, gin in his mouth and spitting it on the white cloth spread as a curtain. He made incarnation and pray. He is the custodian of that shrine. He cannot enter into that small house. He resumes work here in the morning and return back to his house by 5pm. Anybody who comes to the shrine to pray will hold the white cloth and ask for whatever thing he or she want and he or she will receive according to his faith. After prayer, they will give the man money”, Salawu told us. Two of the tourists later came, off their shoes and made supplications at the shrine, after which money was offered to the shrine’s custodian.
A Tourist Praying in Ogun Shrine
We moved forward to the next spot called, “War time hideout”. A lady, the third guide explained the significance of the cave. “There are five rooms under this cave but only one is remaining. This is the place the rock was named after, “Olumo” The Egba people said, “Nibi ni oluwa fi wahala ati idamu aye wa mo” (This is where god end our trouble), and shortened it to Olumo for better pronunciation”, she said.
She added “Egba people met a man called Adagba, an hunter inside the cave. What happened was that one day, Adagba, the hunter observed that there were some people down looking for where to hide during the war. He went down and invited them to join him under the cave. Egba people also migrated to Abeokuta, where they met some people including that hunter Since then, whenever there is a war, the Egba people would hid their valuables under the cave and their warriors would go and confront the enemies.” .
We moved on to the next historical spot but the guide was unavailable to attend to the tourists. It was gathered that it is a spot managed by Iya Orisa (mother custodian of gods). Different houses accommodating different gods were sighted. One is manned by a woman selling provisions and the other by an old man. Since nobody was found manning the other shrines, it was assumed that these people we met there are the one in charge of all the shrines around that space. The woman only said that she is one of the custodians of the shrines adding that if we were interested in more information, we had to pay her N2000. It was also gathered that that one of the unmanned shrine belong to “sanponna god” shrine (god of chickenpox). “If anyone is afflicted with sanponna (chickenpox) and such person is brought here, sanponna custodian will pluck certain leaves and bath the person with certain spiritual water, using the leaves to scrub the person. The person will be healed”, a man, who is intuited to be one of the senior officers of the centre said.
The man confirmed that these women are the priestess in charge of the shrines spread around this spot. According to him, they are also the princess of longevity, thereby anybody they pray for will have a long live.
Moving on, another friendly guide received us at the entrance of a tunnel. Before allowing us to continue the journey, he explained some art works in front of the tunnel. “These art work on the floor mean somethings. Thee two heads standing symbolizing the survival of the war and the one on the floor symbolise those that died during the war. The cowries spread around them were the money being spent at that time.”
“I will want to tell you that you have two options here to get to the peak of this rock. One, passing through this tunnel or using the staircase”, he revealed We chose to explore the tunnel and he added, “Once you enter the tunnel, you cannot turn back half because it is abomination.” Deal, we agreed. The most scary and rigorous adventure started. I never knew I would make it to the top because I’m an acrophobia but with the encouragement of the guide, I made it panting.
“Daddy, do people still worship here?” my daughter asked.
“Yes,” the guide answered. “Olumo Rock is not just history; it is living tradition and a place of indigenous religion.”
Though, the climb was demanding, every pause offered a new story, every ledge a fresh perspective.
Finally, we reached the top and the last guide received us. From there, we saw the city at a glance. Among the conspicuous things we saw are the first church in Nigeria, St Peter Anglican church, Ake, built in 1824 by Samuel Ajayi Crowther, NTA, Abeokuta, Baptist Boys High School where Chief Olusegun Obasanjo, the former military head and two term president of Nigeria and Chief MKO Abiola, the winner of June 12, Presidential Election whom the military government headed by the Northerner, General Ibrahim Badamosi Babangida and his cohort denied his mandate and the rare privilege to govern the country, the first mosque in Abeokuta called central mosque, which was rebuilt in 1925, and Chief MKO Abiola’s family house in Gbagura, where he was born and brought up. The tour guide also showed us an Iroko tree which has been there for over 350 years, Ogun River, where Ogun state derived its name from in 1976. The river cut across four states namely, Ogun, Oyo, Ondo and Lagos, and run to the Republic of Benin. The view was nothing short of majestic. Abeokuta stretched endlessly below, with Alake’s Palace standing proud, but most arrogantly are some telecommunication masts, rooftops old and new intermingling in a tapestry of time.
We stood in silence, breathing in the panorama. For me, it was a moment of connection to my state capital. For the children, it was wonder, the world suddenly larger, history suddenly alive.
On the topmost of the rock, we were entertained by a modeling group who was there to shoot a scene out of the many scenes of the project the group was working on. We all danced to their traditional musical instrument mainly assorted drums. We made momentary friends.
The descent was gentler, though our legs trembled with fatigue. We came through the staircase since the lift was not working. At the base, vendors greeted us with souvenirs. We visited the two private art galleries. The first, Nike Art Gallery, is mainly a gallery of painting art work, with each painting telling either personal or community stories. There are some painting narrating stories of colonialism, collective Yoruba story and the struggles of mankind. Conspicuously celebrated is late Fela Anikulapo, the afrobeat music icon and an activist. Some paintings depict different aspects of his life. Other celebrated people in the gallery are Wole Soyinka, Governors Dapo Abiodun, Ademola Adeleke and Babajide Sanwo-Olu of Ogun, Osun and Lagos States. There were iron works of two giant guitars, cameras standing on tripods with their operator symbolizing the relevance of music and journalism in Abeokuta. It was even stated that journalism in Nigeria started from Abeokuta with the Henry Townscend’s Iwe Iroyin, a bilingual Yoruba and English newspaper. Other iron works that adorned the gallery are giant lions, oxen, and horse.
Nike Art Gallery
The other gallery is historic gallery where different locally made products were displayed. Among them were beads, Aso Ofi and adire, black soaps, cowries, Yoruba books, carvings, books, local hats, local baskets, herbs, Igbako (scooper), drums, sekere, piggybank, sculptures, stones, shoes, historical pictures, among others. All the materials available in these galleries are for sale.
Historic Gallery
We refreshed ourselves with jollof rice and chilled drinks and laughter. The day had taken its toll, but it had also gifted us something priceless.
As we prepared to leave, my youngest tugged at my hand. “Daddy,” she whispered, “Can we come back again? I’ll never forget it.” Those words sealed the day.
We found our ways back to the train station around 4:40pm and by 5:40pm, we had secured our seats which had been hijacked by some passengers. It took the intervention of the train staff to help us claim three of the seats which were illegally resold to other passengers. The train staff were able to secure one seat for an elderly man, who occupied our seat but was unable to secure seat for a youth corps member, whom a old woman offered her kid’s daughter to and lapped her till they got to Omio-Adio were they disembarked. The other lady had to stand till we got to Ibadan around 6:50pm. We arrived back home around 8pm. While dinner was being prepared, I slept off, and tomorrow was another day.
Travel, I have learnt, is not only about destinations. It is about journeys, about family, about rediscovering the threads that bind us to our heritage.
Olumo Rock reminded me of the resilience of our ancestors, the richness of our traditions, and the responsibility we carry to pass these stories to our children.
For my family and me, that climb was more than a tourist outing. It was a pilgrimage, to history, to memory, and to the roots that make us who we are.
And as the train carried us back to Ibadan that evening, I knew we had planted something lasting in the hearts of the children: the knowledge that they belong to a story far older and larger than themselves.
