When a Name Becomes a Prayer: Reflections on Ancestral Invocation

Some names are not simply spoken — they are remembered, as if the earth itself has been keeping them safe until the right moment.

Barika. Malkia. Wasame.

Three names, braided together like stories passed through fire, ocean, and song. When I first began shaping the Oríkì — an ancestral invocation rooted in Yoruba praise tradition — I felt as though I wasn’t writing something new. I was uncovering something that had already been waiting.

In Yoruba culture, Oríkì is more than praise. It is remembrance — a calling forth of lineage, spirit, and possibilities that exist beyond the limits of the present moment. It honors the path walked by those before us and affirms the power already living inside us.

And so, the inscription became a doorway.

Blessing: Barika — Ọmọ ìbùkún

Barika means blessing — not the fragile blessing that depends on luck, but the kind that flows from deep wells.

When we call someone Ọmọ ìbùkún, “child of blessing,” we are acknowledging divine favor already at work. It is a reminder that abundance is not merely material — it is spiritual resilience, community, protection, and the ability to transform scarcity into possibility.

Barika is the calabash that never empties.

Royalty: Malkia — Ayaba

Malkia speaks of sovereignty — not crowns made of jewels, but crowns made of dignity.

To call someone Ayaba (queen) in Yoruba consciousness is to recognize a spirit aligned with purpose. It is to honor someone whose posture refuses oppression, whose presence disrupts injustice, whose laughter dismantles fear.

Royalty here is not domination — it is responsibility. It is the quiet strength of someone who remembers that ancestors walk beside her.

Peace: Wasame — Ohùn àlàáfíà

Wasame carries the vibration of peace — not silence, but wholeness.

Àlàáfíà is the peace that allows breath to deepen, families to heal, communities to flourish. It is restoration. It is the knowing that freedom is sacred.

When peace becomes a voice, it heals without violence. It mends what the world insists on breaking.

Walking With the Ancestors

The inscription reminds us:

Àwọn Baba ń rìn pẹ̀lú rẹ — the ancestors walk with you.

There is comfort in knowing that we are never moving alone. Each step is echoed by those who survived storms, carried traditions, and dreamed futures they never got to see.

Ancestral invocation is not nostalgia. It is activation.

It calls us to stand taller. To honor our names. To live in alignment with the prayers spoken over us — whether whispered by elders, carried in ritual, or discovered through our own healing journeys.

Rising Forward

In calling the name Barika Malkia Wasame, we are also speaking to our own spirits:

Rise.
Remember who you are.
Walk with blessing, dignity, and peace.

The inscription became more than words — it became a declaration that identity is sacred, and lineage is a compass.

May we all learn to carry our names like light.

Àṣẹ.