24/07/2026
For over an hour, everyone was praying because the groom couldn’t be reached… and just then, the Ìyàwó Ilé spread their wrappers across the gate.
What happened next reminded me that even the most beautiful traditions have the right timing.
As an Alaga, I’ve anchored countless traditional weddings, and one of the moments I always look forward to is when the Ìyàwó Ilé playfully stop the groom or his family at the gate.
They spread their wrappers, sing, dance, and refuse to let the groom and his family pass until they are appreciated. It’s a beautiful Yoruba tradition, and everyone usually enjoys the moment.
But this wedding was different.
The engagement ceremony was scheduled to start at 8a.m. The bride’s family had arrived early and were already seated, waiting patiently for the groom’s family.
When the groom’s family eventually arrived, they refused to enter the compound. Not because they didn’t want to. They were waiting for their son.
Unknown to many, the groom and his friends had attended his bachelor’s night the previous evening. They had overslept, and worse still, neither the groom nor any of his friends was answering their phones.
The atmosphere changed immediately.The bride became worried. I went inside to encourage her, reassure her, and pray with her.
Outside, the groom’s parents were visibly anxious. The family had already instructed me not to begin the programme until their son arrived safely. Even though we could have started entertaining the guests, they simply wanted to see their son first.
Then I looked towards the gate. About seven or eight Ìyàwó Ilé had already tied their wrappers and spread them across the entrance, ready for the traditional rite.
I quietly walked over to them. “Mummies, please, not yet. Let’s wait for the groom to arrive first. Everybody is worried. We don’t even know where he is.”
One of the women looked at me and said, “ E ko ju si nkan to gbe yin wa bi (Madam, face the job they paid you for). Don’t tell us what to do.”
I calmly replied, “Ma, with respect, everyone is praying because we haven’t seen the groom. This isn’t the right moment.” They still wouldn’t listen. So I left.
I sat beside my colleague and quietly said,“Let’s pray” because I was also very worried.
Honestly, we didn’t know what had happened to the groom. After a while, the Ìyàwó Ilé noticed that the groom’s family wasn’t paying any attention to the wrappers because they were too worried about their son. They quietly packed them up.
One of the women later came to apologise for how the other woman had spoken to me. I smiled and told her not to worry. I explained that the Ìyàwó Ilé would definitely have their moment. It was simply a matter of timing.
About twenty minutes later, the groom and his friends finally arrived. The relief on everyone’s faces was priceless. I immediately informed the bride that her husband had arrived safely, and we quickly began the ceremony because we had less than ninety minutes before everyone had to leave for church.
As I welcomed both families and invited the groom’s family to dance into the compound…The same woman who insulted me earlier spread the wrapper across the entrance again.
This time, something was different. The groom’s family stopped. Nobody danced forward. Nobody stepped on the wrapper. Nobody reached for money. You could see it written all over their faces. The earlier incident had left an impression.
While they had spent over an hour worrying about the safety of their son, all they could remember was seeing wrappers spread across the gate.
At that moment, I knew I had to step in. With a smile, I turned to the groom’s family and said,
“E ma bi nu Idile Oko alayo (Please don’t take it to heart, happy groom’s family ). This is our beautiful tradition. These are the Ìyàwó Ilé—the women who have cared for your bride, celebrated her, and stood by her until this special day. They deserve to be honoured.”
Then I turned to the Ìyàwó Ilé, praised their leader, celebrated them with songs, and reminded everyone of the special role they play in a Yoruba traditional wedding. The atmosphere changed immediately. Smiles returned.
The groom’s family danced forward, honoured the Ìyàwó Ilé, and everyone laughed as though nothing had happened.
Watching everything unfold reminded me of something I’ll never forget.
As an Alaga, my job isn’t just to coordinate a programme. Sometimes, my assignment is to read the atmosphere, calm emotions, preserve tradition, and become the bridge between two families.
Culture is beautiful. Tradition is beautiful.
But wisdom is knowing the right time for everything.
What would you have done if you were there?
Do you think the Ìyàwó Ilé did too much, or were they simply following tradition?
I’d really love to hear your thoughts in the comments.
Awero S’ejod’owo Alaga…your traditional wedding is my joy.
