Re-Imagining Fundamentalism in Traditional African Religious Thought: The Case of Ombatse in Nigeria

Abstract

This article re-imagines the conceptual and existential dimensions of religious fundamentalism, which is generally conceived as a belief in the literal interpretation of texts and their application in contemporary society. A major argument in fundamentalism discourse centres on textual religious or sacred texts of organised religions, from which inspiration is usually drawn to counter the corrosive effects of modernisation. The militarisation of sacred texts by religious fundamentalists—a kind of hardware—is predicated on the interpretation of the texts—the software—which provides ideological scaffold to religious fundamentalism. This article argues that though religious fundamentalism is extensively considered textual-based, the Ombatse traditional religious movement—a non-text-based religious movement—challenges not only many of the fundaments of traditional African religious thought but also the text-based thesis of religious fundamentalism. I suggest that Ombatse could be situated, epistemologically, in the locale of resistance to religious colonialism and political marginalisation.

1. Introduction

In this article, I challenge the position that religious fundamentalism is outright dependent on the literal interpretation of scriptures only. Logically, this assumes that there must necessarily exist religiously codified or canonised texts that are susceptible to literal interpretation by fundamentalists. I argue that the example of Ombatse in north-central Nigeria, an African traditional religious movement that has no canonised or codified texts like Christianity and Islam, has manifested the features of religious fundamentalism by having recourse to a deity—azhili—rather than literal text. I suggest that Ombatse could be situated, epistemologically, in the locale of resistance to religious colonialism and political marginalisation. This is grounded on the framework that the colonising effects of Christianity and Islam on Ombatse could have provoked a decolonial spirit, interpreted to have been pristine and autochthonous to Ombatse. This took a combative turn, which thus underscores the reality of religious fundamentalism. To be clear, colonialism is fundamentalism, and fundamentalism is colonialism. As Alkhouri (2024, p. 497) makes clear, “European imperial colonialism and Zionism have instrumentalized sacred religious texts to justify their domination, colonialism, and exploitation of the indigenous people.” I further argue against the position that African Traditional Religion is overarchingly peaceful. My reason is grounded on the fact religion of any kind serves human existential needs first of all, and when those needs are threatened, there are always resources within a particular religion to resist and fight. Such resistance or war can take on the togas of the supernatural, as sacred texts or oral traditions (in the case of Ombatse), are re-interpreted and militarised, often literally, to address the threats. The existential dimension of African Tradition Religion is sometimes most profoundly expressed in the abandonment of a weak and irresponsive deity for a more potent, active, and responsive one (Ibitokun 1995). So, if Ombatse found active force in azhili, this means that it is potent enough to help them address their alleged existential marginalisation and threats against their survival.

Interestingly, the interest in fundamentalism as a religious concern was revived globally immediately after the 9/11 attacks. Before then, many scholars and practitioners of religions, as well as political authorities, were more theoretical than pragmatic in discussing religious fundamentalism, particularly in the West. With the seeming triumph of secularisation, it was thought that religion had lost its sting in the public space. The assumption was that although fundamentalism was a potential area of conflict, its full explosion was not to be expected so soon (Herrington et al. 2015). Al-Qaeda changed that vista of thought when the World Trade Centre and the Pentagon were attacked, leading to the deaths of thousands of persons on 11 September 2001. The 2004 Madrid train bombing and the July 2005 London suicide bombing, among others, also heightened the interest and concern about global terrorism, religious fundamentalism, and ‘peace-waging’. The literature on fundamentalism after then rose astronomically, such that most came to believe, with justifiable reasons, that political Islam or Islamophobia portends more lethal dangers in the 21st century. But the definitions of fundamentalism mostly centred on organised, text-based religions and how they have always engaged in literal interpretation and recourse to their texts in responding to the alleged corrosive effects of modernism. This locates the conflict between modernism and fundamentalism.

For instance, the radical Islamic sect in Nigeria called Boko Haram (i.e., literally, “Western education is evil”) represents a fundamentalist movement that derives its ideology from Islam. The movement is also an insurgent one in nature, portending towards some form of religious nationalism. The goal of this insurgent group is to construct a national contour that will operate sharia, an Islamic legal system believed to be devoid of corruption, which modern democratic systems ensconce. In order to mobilise towards this goal, the group teaches that the democratic institution ‘created in the image’ of Western civilisation, education, and democratic institutions must be destroyed and replaced with sharia. Boko Haram’s literal interpretation of Islamic texts provides a critical mass of support for its insurgency (Igboin 2021). As Alkhouri (2024, p. 488) notes, “sacred texts have frequently been used to legitimize the oppression and extermination of native peoples.” Alkhouri further argues that literal interpretation of sacred texts has, more often than not, resulted in the “militarization of sacred texts” (p. 497) Most profoundly, he articulates the point that such militarisation of texts also becomes critical instrument for the justification of religious fundamentalist violence or war. He buttresses this position by arguing that the literal interpretation of sacred texts is the ‘software,’ that is, the ideological scaffold of religious fundamentalists, upon which the ‘hardware,’ that is, violence, is empowered. Within it lies the assumption of divine mandate to fulfil a self-styled design or existential project. The susceptibility of sacred texts to human instrumentalisation has continued to fuel global religious fundamentalism and religious war.

However, the emergence of Ombatse—a traditional religious movement in Nasarawa State, north central Nigeria, that also claims that Christianity, Islam, and Western democratic systems are ‘colonial’ in their disposition towards traditional religions and particularly antagonistic to the traditional belief of the Eggon people, from whom Ombatse evolved—almost entirely followed a similar trajectory, except that it is a non-text-based religious movement. Ombatse’s recourse to ‘revelation’ from God (as other organised, text-based religions, like Christianity and Islam, as will be argued below) as the inspiration for their activities, is instructive for the reason that it tends to posit a kind of radical agenda for traditional religion that has been held to be a generally peaceful religion (Wlodarczyk 2013). I argue that Ombatse demonstrates religious fundamentalism by having recourse to a pristine authority in order to respond to the challenges of modernity. This recourse, as Wlodarczyk (2013) argues, is as a result of African Traditional Religion’s ability to adapt to Western religious and secular influences that it has come in contact with through the slave trade, missions, and colonialism. In any case, “as opposed to variants of Christianity and Islam, the common themes of African religion are not so much enshrined in doctrine or even narrative but rather in non-text-based, yet shared approaches to the nature of power and to man’s and the world’s relationship to it” (Wlodarczyk 2013, pp. 154–55). This suggests that religious fundamentalism of any kind is a human and existential response to threats that can be interpreted as religious or divine.

This main question this article seeks to answer is the following: can a religion that has no canonised text have recourse to religious fundamentalism in thought and practice? This research question has not been addressed in the literature on African Traditional Religion in particular and religious studies in general. Consequently, this article argues that Ombatse, a traditional religious movement in Nigeria, provides a critical lens through which scholars of African Traditional Religion and African Studies, broadly speaking, can begin to re-imagine religious fundamentalism. Using both primary and secondary sources, this article analyses Ombatse’s religious fundamentalism and its implications for scholarly discourse in fundamentalism studies. This article contributes to the literature on religious fundamentalism by challenging the prevalent claim that religious fundamentalism exclusively belongs to text-based religions.

2. Engaging Religious Fundamentalism

The first major blow that religion received, according to Abraham (2015), came from Charles Darwin’s theory of evolution. That theory negates the claim of the creation story, which came to be known as a myth, cleverly created by religious people to explain the origins of humanity. Darwin’s theory was received with eagerness and applied to almost every discipline, even religion itself. For instance, the proponents of the science of religion such as Max Muller and C.P. Tiele, among others, utilised the evolutionary theory to explain the origin of religion. According to Abraham, the Enlightenment furthered the cause of rationalism, wherein any aspect of knowledge that was deemed unable to pass through the ‘eye’ of rationalism could not be admitted into knowledge categories. Then came scientism, which insists on experimentation as the only basis for ascertaining knowledge and truth. The secularisation thesis also further denigrates the influence of religion and its values in human life and society (Abraham 2015). Thus, the response of religion to all of these modern developments is to have recourse to its pristine, sacred text(s), from which fundamentalists point to a system of values that modern society should revolve around. This is the basis of the conflict, namely modernity’s forward-looking movement versus fundamentalism’s backward-looking movement. However, if the conflict were as simple as this, much energy would have been spared; unfortunately, it is more complex than forward-looking or backward-looking movements.

The ‘spirit’ of fundamentalism is most apodictically demonstrated in religious revivalism. Religious revivalism is in response to progressive secularisation. Fundamentalists’ enthusiastic revivalism appears to not be confined within religious spaces alone. The belief is that identity politics has a strong influence on how religion is conceived, treated, and related with in society. This is why some forms of fundamentalism have a stringent political agenda. It is this agenda that has led to the portrayal of fundamentalism as a political movement and strategy for survival and expansion. Examples can be found among Jewish people in Israel, the Muslim Brotherhood in Egypt, Muslims in Pakistan, Nigeria, and Palestine, in the Russian regions of Dagestan and Chechnya, where Saudi Wahhabism has a strong hold, in Sikhs and Hindu people in India, Christians in America and Ireland, and Buddhists in Sri Lanka, Afghanistan, Palestine, and so forth (Makofsky and Unal 2022; Holborn and Haralambos 2008, p. 444; Zablocki and Looney 2004; Igboin 2014).

Fundamentalism is a contested concept—expanding, accommodating, and excluding economic, political, cultural, pro- or anti- situations, and so forth (Sutherland 2025, p. 8). Even though fundamentalism has come to be understood as, or generally identified with, violence, it is not historically associated with it. For instance, white collar fundamentalism does not result in violence in most cases. It is intellectual stimulation and a set of activities to demonstrate to those outside their group that there is an enlivening side of religious belief (Obadare 2007, p. 518). Conservative Evangelical Protestants who evidently acquired the badge of fundamentalism in the United States were not physically violent. Their goal was to restore the fundamentals of their faith, which they believed modernity was destroying. Thus, with the publication of The Fundamentals (see Torrey and Dixon 1917), certain aspects of their faith believed to be negatively affected by secularism were brought back. Theirs was to insist that society should obey the age-long, inerrant biblical texts (Igboin 2012). However, political fundamentalists have always acted in a way that suggests that political power is necessary in order to defend, protect, and impose their notion of the authenticity and infallibility of the texts of their faith on society. This is obviously the most visible aspect of fundamentalism (Igboin 2012).

Consequently, Bruce (2000, p. 94) defined fundamentalism as anti-modernist “movements that respond to problems created by modernization by advocating society-wide obedience to some authentic and inerrant text or tradition and by seeking the political power to impose the revitalized tradition.” On the other hand, Almond et al. (2003, p. 17) defined fundamentalism as “a discernible pattern of religious militance by which self-styled true believers’ attempt to arrest the erosion of religious identity, fortify the borders of the religious community, and create viable alternatives to secular institutions and behaviors.” Understood this way, religious fundamentalism tends to define identity in religious terms. Thus, those who are outside a particular religious movement are regarded as unsaved and unsafe. It is this that introduces the ‘us’ versus ‘them’ antagonism. It is also from this thesis that fundamentalism seems to appeal to traditions to confront modern forces that tend to ‘de-traditionalise’ and modernise society. This is why Giddens (1994) defined fundamentalism as a “tradition defended in the traditional way.”

Although these three definitions are similar, Bruce’s appears to concentrate on a movement that claims authority from a pristine text and seeks society-wide obedience. If we emphasise this aspect of Bruce’s definition too much, much will be bracketed out from the understanding and application of fundamentalism. For instance, it will show that non-text-based religions, like Ombatse, as we will shortly articulate, cannot be considered fundamentalist even though they project the other dimension of fundamentalism, for example, political power and a desire for their revitalised belief imposed on society. It has been argued, although controversially, that religions having multiple texts or those without a single text struggle to develop fundamentalist groups because sacred texts are a sine qua non for rallying people around a fundamentalist cause (Almond et al. 2003, p. 445).

While Almond and his colleagues’ definition captures salient points in fundamentalism, Giddens’ supplies such elements that encapsulate a traditional belief system without strict reference to written scriptures. Accordingly, Sakuba (2008, p. 388) argues that although traditional African Religion does not have scripture as do Christianity, Islam, Judaism, and so on, it cannot be wholly said that it has no religious referent. In this case, in examining fundamentalism in traditional African Religion, “the ancestors take the role of ultimate authority” (Sakuba 2008, p. 388). From this point of view, fundamentalism will be understood as a radical religious movement that seeks to maintain and protect its pristine belief and values, and also attempts to convert society to its fold, sometimes through the use of force. With this, we can argue that Ombatse is a fundamentalist group, which has azhili, a traditional deity, as its referent.

One must add that religious fundamentalism, as Ombatse portrays, is a deliberate act; it is as identity-based as it is religious. Its actions are pre-meditated and planned to have a desired impact. Religious fundamentalism, generally, makes sense to fundamentalists in a particular situation of violence. For them, violence is morally justified because victims are carefully selected and targeted. Religious fundamentalists believe that their violence is targeted at the architecture of hegemony and the superstructure of identity politics that victimised them in the first place. The moral intelligibility of religious fundamentalism is predicated on the goal of virtuous violence—that is, moral actions are related to the moral situations in which they find themselves. The moral situation can also be judgemental in relation to the social context. In the following section, I will briefly describe the ethno-religious background of Ombatse among the Eggon people.

3. The Eggon and Their Belief Systems

Like many ethnic nationalities in Nigeria, the Eggon people would not have been recognised unless for their religious fundamentalist actions that drew them to public attention. This is because of the overarching dominance of the Hausa, Yoruba, and Igbo ethnicities in the polity. These three ethnicities heavily define identity and politics, while those outside their remits are regarded as minorities. In a polity where minorities are hardly recognised, and sometimes denied some privileges, agitations for secession or recognition by any means possible may not be completely ruled out. This seems to apply to the Eggon people. The Eggon are mostly found in the modern Akwanga, Lafia, and Nasarawa-Eggon Local Government Areas of Nasarawa State, the fringes of Kaduna State, and Abuja (Nigeria’s capital), with a population of about 750,000 people (Odiri and Kanu 2018). The main towns of the Eggon people are Akwanga, Nasarawa-Eggon, Kagbu, and Wana. The name Eggon refers to the hill where the people settled before migrating to the plains. Literally, Eggon means “a good sense of hearing or perception ability” (Hepburn et al. 2006, p. 2). In the earliest times, the Eggon were ruled by a chief priest called Adanashim. The people were governed by religious laws. On complex medical, political, and spiritual issues that threatened their communities, seers were consulted to determine their cause and cure (Hepburn et al. 2006, pp. 3–4).

The Eggon, like any traditional African, carries his religion “to the fields where he is sowing seeds or harvesting a new crop; he takes religion with him to the beer party or to attend a funeral ceremony; and if he is educated, he takes his religion with him to the examination at school or in the university; if he is a politician he takes it to the house of parliament” (Booker 2010, p. 79). The belief in metaphysical forces and their impact on human existential life cannot be easily denied. From time immemorial, the pre-colonial Africans believed as well that “Gods satisfied will grant you, their clemency bless your fields and crops bring prosperity to your trade routes or fill your markets with distant and refined products. By cons with the gods unhappy, expect the worst disasters; buildings destroyed, devastated fields, and worse”, which represents the ambivalences of the belief in a Supreme Being (Marlin 2012).

The Eggon believe in the existence of Supreme Being—Ahogben—who created the universe and lives beyond the sky. Ahogben is believed to own everything; he is described as omnipotent, omniscient, and omnipresent. The Eggon communicate with him through Ashim or other sacred objects kept by the people. According to the Eggon, Ahogben ensures that the ethics and morality of the communities are observed (Hepburn et al. 2006, p. 5). In addition, the Eggon have Ashim, Gango, Yamba, Akuk, and Arikya as individual, family, or clan deities to whom they offer sacrifices in times of crises and communal festivals (Hepburn et al. 2006, p. 6).

However, the religious cosmology and cartography of the Eggon would change when in 1920 Mr. Ivan Hepburn of the Sudan United Mission, with the active assistance of some fellow missionaries, brought Christianity to the Eggon. The chiefs warmly received them and demonstrated their acceptance by allowing their children to worship with the missionaries and attend their schools. By 1938, the Roman Catholic mission arrived at Eggon, and with the advent of the Hausa and Fulani, Islam came to be practised also among the Eggon. The emergent, religiously pluralistic Eggon were open to religious diversities and divisions. The resultant religious competition or scrambling for souls to be converted and space to be dominated laid the seed of irreconcilable differences, as evident in other climes. While the Mada Zube are friendlier with Christianity, the Mada Tara are mostly Muslims and traditionalists. There was a long-standing feud between the Mada Tara and the Mada Zube, which affected their religious affiliations. This does not suggest that both groups are not represented in all the three main religions. Traditionalists have continued to offer strong resistance to both Christianity and Islam. For the Eggon, the corrosive effects of Christianity and Islam should be stopped. Despite the fact that traditional beliefs may have been weakened by the influence of Christianity, Islam, and Western civilisation, there seem to be many traditionalists who uphold their indigenous religion. For instance, “the Ashim cult is still strong among Eggon people. This cult is greatly feared by every Eggon person” (Hepburn et al. 2006, p. 7).

From the abovementioned information, we can glean a picture of a pluralistic society, where different ethnic groups, religions, and cultures exist. As I will elucidate hereunder, there was an ethical or normative kind of pluralism among the Eggon. Normative pluralism, as Sutherland (2025, p. 1) points out, has “moral and political norm espoused by individuals and groups, but also projected onto societies.” Although this ought to have projected a form of legal toleration and recognition of diversity and identity, the case of Eggon shows a contrary curve. As Alozieuwa (2016) analyses it, the pluralistic nature of the Eggon brought with it hegemonic, identity, and cartographic politics. The domineering and exclusionary politics became the scaffold for political contention that assumed the portraiture of religious fundamentalism. Alozieuwa (2016) argues that the exclusionary politics of Islam and Christianity is antithetical to the communal and inclusive values that indigenous Africans had imbibed over the centuries. The character of hegemonic politics is that it subjugates, represses, and excludes, and also provokes reactions from the oppressed.

But it must not be lost on us that the advent of Islam and Christianity into the Eggon also brought some form of radicalism into their indigenous belief system. As Wlodarczyk (2013, p. 154) observes, African Traditional Religion has “a repository of oral traditions without a single founder or central sacred text but, nonetheless, a striking number of coherent themes across this vast continent.” Most of these themes are weaved around the belief in the presence and powers of the ancestors, to which the Ombatse group would have recourse to in their projection of religious fundamentalism. It is for this reason that Marlin (2012) suggests, “The Africans should return to the lens of their ancestral beliefs, or at least revisit the principles governing them, and try to update them in a sort [of] reculturation, self-determination of the faith; for in many ways we are what we believe.” The recourse to self-determination is instructive in discussing Ombatse religious fundamentalism.

4. Ombatse as a Religious Fundamentalist Movement

According to the Ombatse group’s former chairman, Haruna Musa Zico Kigbu: “The religion had existed since time immemorial with a shrine ‘Azhili’ interceding for the people. People who identified with the ‘Ombatse Group’ usually ask the shrine for rain, good harvest and many other fortunes. Therefore, Ombatse Group is not [a form of] witchcraft; neither does it have anything to do with “fighting wars”” (McGregor 2013). For Kigbu, the Ombatse group, from time immemorial, was a peaceful one, which aligned with traditional religious thought of the Eggon people. As a non-violent group, the Ombatse engage in fellowship with those who believe in its powers to bless, whether or not they officially belong to other religions. Wlodarczyk (2013) observed that the traditional religion had mostly been peaceful until its exposure to Western religions. According to him,

Unlike some of the other world religions, however, African Traditional Religion has rarely been the cause (real or proclaimed) of wars. Because of the lack of central doctrine and, therefore, hierarchy and institutions, it has never become the powerful tool for state conquest that Christianity or Islam have become. Although traditional religious explanations for misfortune have helped legitimize the cause of many insurgent groups and aided their recruitment, this has tended to be on a smaller scale than state-sponsored warfare. In part, this is because of the cultural disconnect between most African states at a central level and the local authority structures within them—both during and after colonialism.

(Wlodarczyk 2013, p. 159)

Ombatse, which means “time has come” (this sounds prophetic), or “we have arrived” (sounds audacious) (Onwubiko 2013) is one of the religious movements of the Eggon people. Even though it claimed to have existed for a hundred years, little or nothing was known about the movement until 2012, when it started appearing in newspapers, depicting and deploying its violent capacities. Chris Mamman describes “a spiritual tradition which was handed down to the Eggon people 100 years ago” (Ayuba 2014, p. 55). The historical evidence to substantiate the claim that Ombatse has existed for thus long has, however, been disputed, with this claim suggested to be an invention of history. It is also suggested that Ombatse could have originated in 2002, 2006, or 2007 (Ayuba 2014; Ali 2014, p. 195) in response to the alleged political and ethnic marginalisation of the Eggon.

In any case, the challenge anchors on moral and spiritual decadence believed to have been orchestrated by Islam and Christianity, unfavourable power politics in Nasarawa State, which has continuously undermined the Eggon, and the incursion of Fulani herdsmen into their territory, thus depriving them of much needed access to grazing land for their animals. The Ombatse religious movement maintains that abandonment of traditional religion and its values is responsible for the moral degradation in the country. The group argues that the cure for societal decadence is a return to the indigenous faith, hence its attempt to convert Muslims and Christians to the autochthonous religious faith. Apart from the moral issue, indigenous religious Eggon adherents also believe that conversion to Christianity and Islam, and the overarching influences of these religions, have robbed them of political relevance in the state (McGregor 2013) while corroding their moral space (Odiri and Kanu 2018).

Another account states that Ombatse could have been formed consequent upon “a revelation received in a dream that called for male Eggons to purify society and rid it of social evils such as promiscuity, adultery, crime, alcohol consumption and smoking” (Zenn 2013). The idea of revelation is crucial here because it is hardly stressed in traditional African religious thought. Unlike Christianity and Islam, African Traditional Religion relies mostly on the instructions of the ancestors passed on to their progeny. If there was what could be referred to as revelation, it could hardly be understood in the sense of text-based religions. Again, it is well established that revelation in African Traditional Religion relates mostly to offering of sacrifices to the gods or ancestors as a consequence of desecration of the land. To purify society through physical rather than metaphysical or spiritual actions sounds prophetic, a dimension that might not be too prevalent in African/Nigerian traditional religions.

Odiri and Kanu (2018) miss the religious referent when they describe Ombatse as a militia group. In fact, one of the challenges in dealing with religious fundamentalism is taking it out of its religious referent and context. The implication of this is that, in trying to remedy its effects, wrong tactics are applied. Ombugadu (2021) articulates the point that Ombatse’s resurgence is predicated on the abandonment of indigenous religious practices. According to the President of the Eggon Cultural Development Association (ECDA), Chris Mamman, Ombatse’s ethical and prophetic vision is akin to biblical injunction such as “thou shall not kill… thou shall not join secret society or witchcraft, and thou shall not sleep with your brother’s wife or engage in actions that are detrimental to the greater goal of a community” (Ayuba 2014, pp. 55–56). This sounded more prophetic when he explained the reason for the restoration of the Ombatse religious movement. He says:

Now, what led to us bringing back this traditional worship to our people is because of the complaints we receive every now and then from our people about the evil and vices that have pervaded our society and our state. These things were not there according to what our fathers told us. The society used to be serene and orderly till the advent of the foreigners. Some of those societal ills include murder, theft, rumor mongering, secret society and witchcraft. Some of these evils were not there before now and even where they existed, there are quick ways of punishing people who were involved which was based on the azhili occult who through intercession, mediate between the people and the god of azhili. Some elders from Eggon land have received instructions by one form of inspiration or the other to resort to azhili who can bring back sanity to the land again.

(Daniel 2012)

Prophecy and revelation are critical to religious fundamentalism. Some African scholars of African religious thought, such as the influential scholars Mbiti (1969) and Idowu (1973), denied prophecy and its agency in African Traditional Religion. According to Idowu (1973, pp. 52, 140), revelation as a universal, theological word cannot be restricted to any particular religion since it involves divine self-disclosure and a rational agent that receives and apprehends the revelation. However, he did not relate it particularly to African Traditional Religion. Idowu (1996, pp. 99–100) talked about revelation in a limited sense, which has to do with predicting the future. This is not neatly separated from the functions of clairvoyants. Nevertheless, priests, more often than not, act in many ways, such as guiding the lives of worshippers. But the priests may not essentially be prophets. As Idowu (1996, p. 220) put it: “There arose no ‘prophets’ to awaken and keep alive in the people the sense of the primitive purity of their religion and save the religion from the retrogression which thus became inevitable.” Mbiti (1969, p. 190) clearly stated: “In the strict biblical sense of prophets and the prophetic movement, there are no prophets in African traditional societies.” Even though there could be those who consider themselves prophets, and apparently function as prophets, it is possible that they might just be playing political, moral, or legal roles. He added that they could be specialists or mediums in their communities, which does not qualify them to be regarded as prophets. Therefore, he concluded: “I do not know of ‘prophets’ in traditional societies who claim to be the prophetic mouth-piece of the Supreme Being, in the manner similar to biblical or koranic prophets” (Mbiti 1969, p. 191). Mbiti and Idowu were heavily influenced by Christian theology, being Christian leaders themselves. However, Walinga (2015) partially agrees that there were Christian and Islamic influences on the African religious prophetic movement, but there were African prophets like prophet Kinjikitile of Tanzania who inspired the Maji Maji rebellion of 1905–1907 against colonialism. In Senegal, the prophetess Alinesitoue also called for a boycott of French colonial economic policies.

As Sakuba (2008) notes, ancestors are religious referents for African Traditional Religion, from whom Africans receive revelations. Although there might not seem to be prophets in the magnitude of Christianity or Islam as Mbiti (1969) and Idowu (1973) claimed, there could have been prophets who were limited to their localities. The understandings of Mbiti and Idowu can be analysed to mean that prophecy in African Traditional Religion is a post-colonial practice, influenced by contact with Christianity and Islam. However, Ombatse’s claim to have received a prophetic revelation to purge society is critical. From the very name, Ombatse, which means ‘time has come,’ one can sense a kind of prophetic tone. If Ombatse members acted the way they act in the present, and claim to have received revelation from azhili, their deity, it appears that their actions are predicated on a literal interpretation of their oral tradition. Therefore, Ombatse’s recourse to azhili (which literally means ‘head pad’ (Hepburn et al. 2006, p. 35)), as the source of this revelation becomes an idea to further explore.

In the meantime, some may want to argue that the idea of prophecy is a revisionist strand of traditional religion in Africa, assuming that prophetism in its strictest sense has become admissible in traditional religion. According to Mbiti (1969), there are specialists in traditional religion who seemingly function as prophets. If we follow this line of thought, we may argue that reference to azhili must have come as a result of syncretism, as influenced by Christianity and Islam, two monotheistic prophetic religions Eggon people have come to live with. Azhili, as an intermediary, therefore, can be regarded as an ancestral spirit that has become the ‘ultimate authority’ for Ombatse. Historically, different religions were influenced by the cultures and religious practices that they encountered. In this sense, if Ombatse has been influenced by Christianity and Islam, it does not invalidate the claim to prophecy and revelation. The following may also be contested: since Ombatse does not have sacred texts, the verification of such prophetic revelation becomes problematic. In response, one can argue that before the canonisation of the texts of Christianity and Islam, for instance, their revelations were transmitted orally. This supports our argument that religious fundamentalism does not necessarily have to be confined exclusively to text-based religions.

What can be gleaned in the case of Ombatse like in all text-based religious fundamentalisms, is the fact that the Eggon people want to revert to their age-long religious traditions and value them as a guide against the corrosive effects of modernity and the religious colonialism of Christianity and Islam. But since there is no text, is it possible to have a religious guide to the values that are traditional to them? The answer, it seems to me, is in the affirmative. Zachary Zamani Allumaga’s responses above have shown that oral tradition has a place in keeping religious continuum. If text-based religions have had recourse to oral tradition and inspiration, it seems unlikely that traditional religion will deny them. As Sakuba (2008) argues, the ancestors are the guide in African Traditional Religion. The idea built around the mystique of ancestral powers and influence, as demonstrated by Ombatse, cannot be waived off without consequences. Sakuba (2008) reiterates the argument that the presence and strength of the African family and clan system has continuously given direction to ethnic nationalism in Africa among their folks and against external influence. Even though this may be termed political, the reality in most parts of traditional Africa is that there is no neat separation between religion, culture, and politics. Therefore, when people ascribe political meaning to Ombatse’s religious fundamentalism, it is indeed the case that there is a rejection of the dichotomy between the sacred and mundane, spiritual and secular, or incorporeal and material dimensions of life.

In this regard, Mayson (2007, p. 2) argued that “religious fundamentalism in Africa must be seen first in the context of traditional African spirituality.” Mayson however rejected any aspect of violent fundamentalism as un-African since the prime aim of religion was to generate life and not to diminish it. According to him, “the crucial spirituality of African civilisation has nothing at all to do with religious fundamentalism” (Mayson 2007, p. 4). Mayson’s defence of the vitality argument—that is, belief that the life-force or spiritual energy derives from God and permeates the entire community—does not completely represent the historical past of the African. To support his position appears to isolate Africans from the reality of being. As with other religious fundamentalism, Ombatse’s religious expression of fundamentalism can be situated within the frames of fear of its religious extinction, marginalisation, and so on. Karen Armstrong expressed this sentiment thusly: “Every single fundamentalist movement that I have studied is rooted in a profound fear”, whether Christian, Jewish, or Muslim, “that modern secular society wants to wipe out religion” (Mayson 2007, p. 7). Hence, we can say that, as with any other form of fundamentalism, Ombatse fundamentalism was founded in reaction to existential or political fear.

One root cause of fundamentalism is injustice. Fundamentalist beliefs and commitment are stronger and recruits made easier when there is gross injustice. In this case, members are mobilised almost effortlessly to fight against the common enemy. Injustice provides ideological cohesion to fundamentalists; religion may just be the rallying point, as demonstrated in Ombatse and any other political fundamentalist movement. Thus, membership may not just be drawn from the down-trodden; almost all strata of society may feel sympathetic to the cause and therefore offer some assistance or co-operation. Hence, when policemen of Eggon nationality were accused of allegedly leaking security information to the Ombatse that the latter would be attacked, assuming this is true, it can be understood from the perspective of sympathy to a common cause/enemy for/of the Eggon (Onyeacholem 2013).

It has been established that fundamentalists believe that access to political power will foster their cause, which is the ability to restore traditional values and possibly impose them on society. Since fundamentalists always believe that they have a common enemy, they necessarily mobilise all resources to engage and defeat the enemy. It is this that results in a violent approach to the fundamentalist pursuit. It has also been argued that when fundamentalists are unable to sway a democratic structure to their advantage, they resort to disruptive means. This can be seen in Ombatse’s activities, especially in its anti-state violent attacks. The political dimension of Ombatse fundamentalism can be pictured in their claim of marginalisation in the politics of the state. According to Allumaga,

The reason why there is serious animosity against the Ombatse group is simply because they are aware that we went to azhili and prayed for the political landscape of Nasarawa state to change for good, and indeed it changed. Our prayer is working. As 2015 [general election] is approaching, we are aware that some people are planning to ensure the Eggon nation is dislodged from the political landscape of the state, so they call us all kinds of names so that they can hang us. But I can assure you, we are prepared to pray to azhili with all legitimacy. Sooner or later, everything will come out clear.

(Daniel 2012)

Allumaga opines that Ombatse ‘was’ a peaceful religious group, dedicated to the well-being of the Eggon. It was not until the continuous invasions of other neighbouring groups that the Ombatse religious movement started protesting against encroachment of their right to free worship and association, as constitutionally guaranteed. The movement may have evolved partly as an effort to “rally the frequently disunited Eggon behind a single purpose through oath-taking and appeals to traditional norms” (McGregor 2013). Oath-taking is taken seriously in order to ensure radical and total compliance and commitment from members (Ozzano 2009, pp. 128–29) of a group. In the case of Ombatse, oath-taking apparently became crucial because of the belief that azhili is quicker in dispensing justice. According to Allugama, “One thing you need to know about this cult is that it has no form of moderation unlike what the Christians or Muslim will tell you that God will punish anyone who commit (sic) atrocity and may be forgiven if they ask God for forgiveness or that God can allow them live until the judgment day, thereby allowing the offender to move about freely” (Daniel 2012).

5. Conclusions

This article challenges two positions: firstly, that religious fundamentalism is fundamentally based on the teachings of ethical monotheistic religions that are naturally jealous and heavily exclusive, and secondly, that religious fundamentalism is intensely text-based, where sacred texts constantly provide the sources and resources for the organising of society and religious thought. I argue that religious fundamentalism is human and existential, although religious texts and history play critical roles in its ideological formation. I have offered an argument that traditional African religion cannot be insulated from the human psychology and self-preservation that text-based religions express through religious fundamentalism. To do so is to appear to describe the indigenous religions and their adherents as unfeeling—unhuman—and irresponsive to the threatening realities that contemporary religions and politics have evidently instigated.

Ombatse clearly have an ideological grid in common with the religious and political aspects of text-based fundamentalism. In essence, Ombatse has widened the realm of conceptualising fundamentalism by its recourse to oral tradition rather than militarising the interpretation of canonised texts that has been captured in the fundamentalism literature for a long period of time. It has changed that vista and status quo. In reality, any form of radical fundamentalism violates others’ fundamental rights, although fundamentalists will counter-argue that modernity invades their rights also. Fundamentalism is in constant search for security in a seemingly collapsing world. Ombatse inserts itself between Christian orthodoxy (i.e., holding on to belief) and Islamic ortho-praxis (i.e., demonstrating religion through actions) to challenge the colonising and corrosive effects of other religious and political praxes.