Lagos Fringe Festival 2025: Myde Glover’s “Irin Ajo (The Journey)” Embodies The Myth of Reincarnation

Yoruba metaphysics categorizes human existence into at least three cyclic stages: the worlds of the unborn, the living and the ancestors or dead. Soyinka, in his book Myth, Literature and the African World, introduces an additional, less explored fourth realm, which he describes as “the dark continuum of transition” and a home for “the ultimate expression of cosmic will.” His poem, Abiku, addresses the phenomenon of a child trapped in a continuous journey between life and death, presenting a fragment of this complex universe. A closely related concept, Akúdàáyà, which refers to spirits of the dead that return to live among humans in disguise, has lately been expressed in mainstream Nollywood, evident in Yoruba epics like Femi Adebayo’s King of Thieves and Kunle Afolayan’s Anikulapo franchise.

With his short film Irin Ajo (The Journey), Myde Glover revisits this age-old concept of Akúdàáyà in a modern setting. The film follows Emmanuel Okolie and Trisha (also known as Abeni omo Ajike) who embark on a road trip with their five-year-old daughter to visit the woman’s parents in a local town. The couple have been married for six years during which the man has not met his wife’s relatives. On the way, Trisha excuses herself to visit a friend, with the promise of meeting her husband at their destination. But when Emmanuel arrives in the town, he is shocked to learn from her parents that their daughter died seven years ago.

Irin Ajo interrogates the belief in tradition, spirituality and reincarnation, showing the fluid, complex inter-relationship between life, death and the afterlife. Popular belief has it that when someone dies unexpectedly, usually by accident, without fulfilling their original destiny, they may return as Akúdàáyà. The Akúdàáyà often inhabit their previous earthly body and relocate to a different environment where they assume new identities. They may procreate, create new families, and lead successful lives, all the while staying away from people and places associated with their erstwhile existence. These sentiments are expressed in Glover’s film, though not with as much breadth that the Afolayan franchise offers.

Beyond the tight, microscopic focus of the short film, larger questions arise about the truthfulness of its belief and representations. Are there real, verifiable accounts to support the existence of this phenomenon, or are the stories merely hearsay? In the film, Emmanuel claims to have been married for years without ever meeting his wife’s relatives. How plausible is this? Even if, as she claims, her parents had disowned her, why didn’t he insist on meeting other members of her family before the marriage? After all, what right-thinking Nigerian man or woman gets married without knowing their spouse’s family?

Family reunions are supposed to be moments for reconciling old differences and sharing beautiful memories with absolute joy and satisfaction. But in Irin Ajo, it opens the door to bitter memories and sombre reflections. Amidst this atmosphere, the film maintains its grip on fate, grief and the inscrutable forces that bind the living to the dead. What Irin Ajo, at the end of the day, reveals is not an attempt to resolve its metaphysical conundrum, but an invitation for contemporary audiences to relish its ambiguity while having a mild taste of Yoruba belief.