Celeste’s Ojatula’s “Oya Wa” Is a Nostalgic Celebration of Owambe Culture

If you’ve been on TikTok recently, or any social media space that allows video content — which is practically all of them now — then you’ve probably come across the videos about the opulence and grandeur of Nigerian weddings. It’s become a meme of sorts, aided no doubt by Keys The Prince’s “Gele,” the soundtrack for many videos celebrating that very opulence. For Celeste Ojatula, Nigerian weddings, specifically an owambe, was the most obvious and culturally meaningful backdrop for the story she intended to tell with her single, “Oya Wa.” 

An indie artist operating in a niche genre, Ojatula wants to challenge preconceived notions and leave her mark in the Afrojuju space. With “Oya Wa” came a chance to explore that ethos a bit more. It was foundational in the creation of the song: “I wrote this song, between 2019/2020, during the lockdown. I was free, so I listened to a lot of music, part of which was the genre of King Sunny Ade. I noticed that there [aren’t] a lot of women in the highlife space, and I decided that I wanted to rewrite that story. For me, it was also a rebellion of some sorts, because growing up, there had been so many restrictions on what I can and cannot do as a [woman].” 

After producing the song with Rhaffy, a producer at St Claire’s Records, to give it more of that Afrojuju juice, she shared it with loved ones, and it became a joyful anthem for them. The video director, Jenrola Lawore, who is also a film and creative director  (To Kill A Monkey), shares her sentiment: “When I think of ideas around her music, I think from a place of joy, tranquility. And yes, I know an owambe is the last place for tranquility, but [Oya Wa] felt like a celebratory song. It makes you want to dance, and the most obvious place to dance is a Yoruba wedding. The song is Yoruba culture.”

That’s a major detail in the video that Ojatula and Lawore hope that people notice and don’t miss. “I want people to see the owambe-ness. Not necessarily only related to Yoruba people, but to Nigerian culture of celebration. Regardless of whatever tribe you are, if you go to a Yoruba wedding, you kinda have to dress that way, etc, match colors, etc. It’s now more than simply a party; it’s now a movement,” Ojatula tells OkayAfrica.  

The use of vibrant color — a cornerstone of traditional Nigerian weddings — was instrumental in shaping the pair’s visual approach to the video. 

“Colors were very important in [creating] this video. Jenrola was very intentional with the backdrop and set design. When I saw the video the first time, I remember thinking, ‘This is so colorful,’ and it felt lived in. It felt like a call-back to more colorful times,” Ojatula shares. Indeed, the video feels like a nostalgic representation of dreamier times with lots of vibrant hues and shades. For Lawore, the references were more tangible, rooted in her technical expertise and creative direction: 

“Celeste and I are both obsessed with color, so we did a lot of research. A lot of our references came from lived experiences; going to weddings, our love of color, etc. When I was shooting, I wanted the camera movement to make the viewer feel like they were people-watching, which is why there was a lot of panning and crash zooms. I wanted the viewer to imagine they’re seated at an owambe, just watching people. The entire video is dripping with Yoruba nuance; it’s like a visual representation of everything we are. For both of us, the entire video, its personality, the colors, everything is a cultural representation.” 

Oya Wa: A Collaborative and Community Effort

As an indie artist working in an industry with little to no support, the creation and execution of Ojatula’s vision was a collective effort. She did the thing everyone tells young people just starting their careers to do and leveraged her personal network: “I wasn’t able to produce [the song] when I first wrote [it], but eventually I learned a few things and collaborated with Rhaffy to make it more of an Afrojuju vibe. When the song was ready, I started sending it out to people I wanted to work with, like Jenrola Lawore, who directed my first music video. Working together was a no-brainer. I also worked with a scriptwriter called Funmi, who created this elaborate story out of how the song made her feel — she said it felt celebratory. Eventually we streamlined it into the video you see today.” Ojatula says. 

For Lawore, she followed in the footsteps of the song’s creator, utilizing any and everything they could gather from their community: “I basically followed Celeste’s footsteps. What’s important as an indie filmmaker is to create with what is available around you. There’s nothing more authentic than that. We utilized her friends and family, the studio she had access to, the backdrops, her network. To me, there’s nothing more real than that. Creating this with her was very wholesome.” 

The team worked with Stella Damasus, a popular Nigerian actress and producer, for the creative endeavor.

“She was open, kind, and humble, which was surprising, given my previous experience working with celebrities. Having to do things as an indie artist in Lagos has you moving like a founder. So it’s always beautiful to experience people wanting to help and support. I met her through Dwin’s label, St Claire’s Records.”

For Ojatula, if she could leave the viewer with one feeling as they watch the video, it would be the organic joy of being at a delightful party, celebrating: “Some of the things I incorporated were my lived experiences, balancing my culture as a Yoruba woman with my life as a modern woman. I want it to feel beautiful, and like you're living a full experience whenever you listen to the sound.”