Long before the concrete roads and electric poles crisscrossed Ogbomoso…
Before the hum of motorcycles echoed through its dusty paths…
And even before the name “Ogbomoso” became a household word in Yoruba land —
There stood a tree. Not just any tree, but Ajagbon, the timeless giant.

Nestled in the heart of the old town, Ajagbon was more than a botanical specimen. It was a living monument — a towering iroko whose roots drank deep from the soil of history and whose branches whispered secrets to the wind. Generations of Ogbomoso indigenes grew up under its leafy shade, and for many, Ajagbon was the first storyteller they ever met.

It stood at the junction of memory and myth.

Elders would gather beneath it on market days, sharing kola nuts, wisdom, and stories of warriors past. Children played in its shadow, their laughter echoing through the open courtyards. Hunters and travelers returning from distant journeys would pause to pay homage, resting beneath its majestic limbs and offering silent gratitude for safe return.

They said the tree could “hear” — and maybe it could.

A Symbol of Unity and History

Ajagbon wasn’t just a tree; it was a symbol of Ogbomoso’s identity. It marked a central point in the town’s physical and spiritual geography — a meeting place, a judgment spot, a spiritual checkpoint.

According to local folklore, it was under Ajagbon that many community decisions were once made. From settling land disputes to discussing impending wars, it stood as a quiet observer of Ogbomoso’s unfolding destiny.

It was also deeply tied to traditional rites. Drummers would gather during festivals, their talking drums resonating with chants that the old tree had heard for centuries. In many ways, Ajagbon was like an oracle — a bridge between the past and the present.

A Lost Gem, Yet Not Forgotten

Sadly, as development crept in and the new age advanced, Ajagbon eventually gave way to time and urbanization. Whether it fell naturally or was felled by human hands, no one can say for sure. But ask any true son or daughter of Ogbomoso, and you’ll see a flicker of sadness when they mention it.

Yet, even in its absence, Ajagbon remains alive — in memory, in folklore, and in the spirit of Ogbomoso.

A Call to Remember — and Reimagine

Today, as Ogbomoso rises once again — reimagining itself as a center of commerce, culture, and tourism — the story of the Ajagbon Tree begs to be revived.

What if we recreated the spirit of Ajagbon?
What if a symbolic replica was planted at a historic site — not just as a tree, but as a heritage monument?

Imagine a serene park with a plaque that reads:

“Here stood Ajagbon — the tree that knew Ogbomoso before we did.”

Such a site could become a key tourist attraction, drawing people into the deeper layers of Ogbomoso’s past. A place for students to learn, elders to reminisce, and tourists to wonder. A spot where culture, memory, and storytelling live on.

Because the soul of a people is not only in their monuments, but also in the trees that shaded their beginnings.

And in Ogbomoso’s story, Ajagbon was the first storyteller.