Ilekewu Agaka Oke Alfa: The Home of the Old Qur’an in Ilorin By Basheer Luqman Olarewaju
During the PRNigeria Young Communication Fellowship, I came across a captivating report about a 200-year-old Qur’an preserved within the Ilorin Emirate. The account was detailed in a book titled Arabic Manuscripts in the Ilorin Emirate, edited by Professor Moshood Mahmood Jimba and funded by TETFund.
According to the report, the historic Qur’an was brought to Ogbondoroko, a village in the Ilorin Emirate, from the ancient Kanem-Borno Empire by the great-grandfather of Mallam Yushau Shuaib—the publisher of PRNigeria and our host at the PRNigeria Centre in Ilorin.
“Many reciters extensively used the manuscript for both learning and prayer. Due to its age and frequent handling, about fifty-two folios have had to be replaced,” the report noted.
That discovery sparked a more profound curiosity—compelling me to visit Ilekewu Agaka Oke Alfa in Ilorin, the spiritual cradle of this legacy.This sacred institution lies in the heart of Ilorin, where the early morning breeze still carries the echoes of Qur’anic recitations. Before classrooms bore whiteboards or digital tools, Ile Kewu Agaka Oke Alfa was etching knowledge into memory using ink, slate, and disciplined devotion. It was not merely a Qur’anic school; it was the forge of Ilorin’s soul—a place where spiritual formation and intellectual identity were inseparably intertwined.
Founded in the early 20th century by Alhaji Ahmad Rufai, a man whose lineage traced back to the Kanuri people of the Kanem-Borno Empire and whose roots had sunk deep into Ilorin through Ogbondoroko, the school began modestly. Its greatness, however, unfolded under the stewardship of his son, Alhaji Shuaib —a man of discipline, compassion, and visionary purpose.
Shuaib did not simply instruct; he transformed. His teaching philosophy was steeped in the belief that knowledge was sacred, and its pursuit a lifelong jihad. Students did not merely memorize verses—they internalized values. Under his guidance, they emerged literate in Arabic script, grounded in character, and enriched with spiritual consciousness. He exemplified the Islamic ideal of the scholar-teacher: a moral compass and academic anchor.
The family legacy is both deep and wide. Ahmad Rufai’s three sons—Yahaya, Zakariyau, and Shuaib—established intellectual dynasties that would define Ilorin’s religious and scholarly identity. Yahaya became the patriarch of Sheikh Ambali, Mallam Adebayo, and Alhaji Baba. Zakariyau nurtured eminent minds including Professor AbdulBaqi, Zarat, and Alfa Abdulazeez. And Shuaib extended this scholarly heritage through his own children—Mallam Ahmad, Dr. Abdulhameed, Ustaz Abdulganiy, Nimat, Aishat, and Alfa Ibrahim.
Yet, what elevated Ile Kewu Agaka into historical prominence was not just its teachers, but its students—many drawn from the royal and elite families of Ilorin. Among them was Alhaja Aishat Nma, daughter of Emir Abdulkadir, who reigned from 1919 to 1959, and mother of the current Emir. She began her Qur’anic studies around 1929 under Shuaib, sitting cross-legged with a slate in hand. She was joined by others such as Prince Abdulkadir Saliman (Daudu Balah) and the future mother of Emirs Aminu Ado Bayero of Kano and Nasir Ado Bayero of Bichi. These were no ordinary students—they were the spiritual aristocracy of Ilorin, shaped in the quiet sanctity of Agaka.
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The learning process at Ile Kewu followed a ritualistic rhythm filled with symbolism and communal significance. When a child mastered Suratul Fil, the family marked the achievement with a humble feast of beans, symbolizing nourishment of both body and soul. Reaching the first Juzu called for the slaughter of a chicken—half for the teacher, half for the student—celebrating knowledge as a shared inheritance. The crowning achievement, however, came with Suratul Baqarah, when a white ram was offered in celebration. Families gathered, drums echoed, and the air filled with traditional songs like “Ẹyin tẹ kewu ẹkú ìya, awa njàiye kalamu”—an anthem to the trials and triumphs of Qur’anic mastery.
These rituals did more than commemorate academic milestones; they wove education into the cultural and spiritual fabric of the community. Knowledge here was not abstract—it was experiential, symbolic, and sacred.
The alumni of Ile Kewu read like a scroll of Ilorin’s most revered personalities: Alhaja Aminat Abdulkareem Pesere (Iya Ilekewu)—who tragically lost her husband and son in the 1973 plane crash—Alhaji Anafi Agaka, Alhaji Babatunde Agaka, Alhaji Muhamud Naibi Agaka, Alhaja Sarata Olomu Oyin, Alhaji Jimoh Biri Idiagbede, Nagbamosi of Ile-Osa, Alhaji Larongbe Alege, Alhaji Huseini Alege, Daudu Kawu Agaka, and many more. These individuals became custodians of a heritage that radiated from mosques and homes into every sphere of public life.
Behind the school’s enduring success stood the quiet strength of its matriarchs. Alhaja Maryam and Hajia Salamat, the wives of Alhaji Shuaib Alabi, were more than homemakers. They were pillars of the institution—upholding discipline, nurturing students, and embedding the values of respect, humility, and spiritual devotion. Maryam, warm and motherly, offered comfort to young learners, while Salamat, firm yet kind, ensured that the values of Ile Kewu resonated beyond the classroom.
In a time when female roles in Islamic education were often overlooked, these women were silent revolutionaries—ensuring that the sacred transmission of knowledge was a family mission, not just a man’s duty.
Today, Ile Kewu’s legacy lives on through its founders’ descendants. The children and great-grandchildren—some now blending tradition with modern pursuits—are living testaments to the school’s enduring impact.
But like all great legacies, time has left its mark. The once-ubiquitous slates (Wala) and ink (Antu) have largely disappeared, replaced by printed Qur’ans and digital tools. The chants and celebratory rhythms of Qur’anic milestones now echo faintly in the memories of ageing alumni. Today’s teacher, Alfa Ibrahim, continues the work with dignity and dedication, though the cultural cadence has softened with the years.
Yet, Ile Kewu Agaka Oke Alfa remains more than a relic of the past. It stands as a philosophical mirror, reflecting the timeless truth that education is not just the acquisition of knowledge—it is the preservation of identity. In Ilorin, education was never simply about literacy. It was about character, spiritual depth, and the sacred obligation to pass wisdom from generation to generation.
In a fast-changing world where automation threatens tradition, this ancient Qur’anic school reminds us of the enduring value of heritage. Before keyboards, there were slates. Before algorithms, there were verses. Before progress, there was purpose.
The ink may have dried. The slates may be gone. But the spirit of IleKewu endures—etched not just in memory, but in the soul of a city that once sat on the floor to learn, and rose to illuminate the world.
Basheer Luqman Olarewaju is a PRNigeria Fellow and writes from Ilorin
