Re-reading History

For the past few days, I have been reading Nigeria’s history (again), especially as regards military politics and the slow and significant steps that brought us to where we are today. The curious search began with a visit to Ilorin and Kaduna where I first heard of Ibrahim Taiwo road. Now Ilorin and Kaduna are both very distant places from each other and the Yoruba military man must have been significant to have had a major road named after him in two (perhaps more) states in Nigeria. I came online, and I was led from one relevant link to another until I satisfied my curiosity.

At the end of two full days of reading through a verifiable history that has also been written about in many other publications, I came to very many realizations. One of them of course was that the civil population never stood much of a chance from the beginning, especially since military tasted power. Ego, politics, greed and corruption took over and we have not remained the same ever since, nor has the players since independence really stepped aside for others or dialogued with alternative viewpoints, for the most part. We could say that much of Nigeria’s military history shares the stage with much of its political history.

There were very many complex stories many of which lent itself to interesting engagement. The first coup and its ethnic sentiments, the counter coups and military politics, the civil war heroes and villains, the players and the losers, and the very many incidental occurrences that read like stuff for movies or great literatures. General Gowon stands out with his far-reaching reforms, his engaging personality, and his position at a crucial time in history. In comparison, he is the only one of Nigeria’s leaders that could stand in Mandela’s image. At the end though, placed beside the reality on the ground where at fifty years we have not been able to supply electricity uninterrupted to all parts of the country, all the gallantry and “gentlemanliness” or the Nigerian military officers (who have interestingly all remained in the political and diplomatic limelight since then) all fade away into the murk of irrelevance. A waste.

Much of those stories can be found online at Dawodu.com. People interested should check here, here and here for detailed analysis of the first coups and how it changed the course of the nation’s history.

Waffi No Dey Carry Last

A joke.

A man walked into the produce (foodstuff) section of a supermarket in Port Harcourt, Nigeria, and asked to buy a half head of lettuce. The boy working in that department told him that they only sold whole heads of lettuce. The man was insistent that the boy ask his manager about his request.

Walking into the back room, the boy said to the manager, “One idiot wan buy half head of lettuce.” As he finished his sentence, he turned to find the man standing right behind him, so he added, “but this Oga here don kindly agree to buy the other half.” The manager approved the deal and the man went on his way.

Later the manager said to the boy, “I was impressed with the way you got yourself out of that situation earlier today, we like people who think on their feet here”. “Where are you from, son?”

“Warri, sir.” the boy replied.

“Well, why did you leave Warri?” the manager asked.

The boy said, “Oga, nothing dey there apart from ashawo* and footballers”.

“Really?” said the manager. “My wife is from Warri.”

“Really?” replied the boy. “Which club she been dey play for?

______________

Culled.

*ashawo = Prostitutes

Faculty of Arts

I took these random shots at the Faculty of Arts, in my former University in Ibadan, a few days ago. I also discovered that the very first female Head of the Department of Religious Studies since 1948 when the Univeristy was founded, has just been appointed, effective August 1st. It’s a positive news, tinted with the disillusionment that this should have been commonplace since very many years ago. I took these pictures from the balcony of the Department.

Going Way Back

I stumbled on a pack of seven albums of a legend called Odolaye Aremu a few weeks ago and my life has never been the same again. The famous exponent of a brand of poetry/music/chant called Dadakuada recorded more than two dozen albums of his brand of art between 1977 and 1990 in Ibadan. He himself is a product of the town of Ilorin. His art spanned decades of politics, religion, social issues, love, lust, feud and music itself, and my first intimations of it must even be earlier than I can even pinpoint, way back to pre-youth, when music was played only on record plates. The reproduction of the albums by the original production company (ORC) in Ibadan for mass distribution in today’s world there is a very welcome development. I’ve particularly had a very pleasant time reconnecting with the curious mix of musical styles hidden within the vein of this particular peculiar art form never since reproduced on this scale by any other indigenous artist before and since the death of Odolaye.

Dadakuada stands in equal stead with Apala, Awurebe, Ijala, amongst many other distinct indigenous styles of musical poetry from the sixties that have all but died off in their original forms. Thanks to digital technology, we still have enough of them now to remind us of the richness of Yoruba poetry, especially of the performance kind that, though commercialized, retained much of their original distinctness.

Funny

I saw this online yesterday… Click to enlarge.