Opinion
Day Ayinla Omowura and Ayinde Barrister dueled in Philadelphia
Bala-blu-blu-bulaba, All Progressives Congress (APC’s) festival of incoherences, should attract a writer. So also the celebration and justification of its impending fatality. Feeble and laughable as it may seem, Festus Keyamo’s Ananias and Saphirra role in this frightening reality too should not escape a dissection. I would have loved to ask Keyamo, in the words of Peter Tosh, “Where are you gonna run to” on judgment day? However, about the time of this meaningless waffle, I was presenting a paper entitled Between Ayinla Omowura and Ayinde Barrister: Conflicting Notions of Superstardom in Fuji and Apala Music at the African Studies Association (ASA) conference which ended yesterday. It was held in Philadelphia, United States.
You will recall that I began the discourse on the theme of that paper in my piece of December 20, 2020, which I entitled Ayinde Barrister: In memoriam of a musician who peaked by Ayinla Omowura’s graveside. Permit me to share my abstracted arguments and submissions at the conference, after defrosting the paper of its academic niceties, below:
The death of Ayinla Omowura, a popular Apala musician, in 1980, is a watershed in Yoruba popular culture. The vacuum left by his demise could not be filled by any other Apala artist. Rather, another artist, Sikiru Ayinde Barrister, who played a different genre called Fuji, rose to the limelight from the shadows of invisibility. This presentation places the careers of Ayinla and Barrister in perspective. It engages with major economic transformations in the 1970s and 1980s in Nigeria which aided the rise of these powerful artists and the musical genres they played. The creation of superstardom in the art cannot be separated from contrasting notions of “good” and “bad” and “new” and “old” music. This problematic schematization of sound and art played a significant role in the rise of these two artists and the public politics built around their personalities.
Stars are creations of the media and their audiences are called fans. Stardom or superstardom is worthy of study because it has a cross-cutting relevance and implication for society. Indeed, musicians are linked to the social health of society and have a sweeping hold on the public sphere, so much so that they compete for attention with politicians and statesmen.
Ayinla Omowura and Ayinde Barrister (born Sikiru Ayinde Balogun) attained superstardom images in their respective genres among their Yoruba people. Their audiences constructed different and differing natures of the worth of their stardoms. While Omowura was arguably one of the foremost and most original musicians to sing the indigenous musical genre of Apala in Yorubaland, Barrister pioneered Fuji, and both shared stardom at about the same time.
In his creation of the Fuji music genre and taking it to the height it currently enjoys in popular culture music in Yorubaland, Ayinde Barrister made a mastery blend of existing traditional musical genres that ranged from Apala, Sakara, Awurebe, and others, making them into a fast-paced, danceable and modern genre. He projected the traditional African values of the Yoruba, and their daily struggles against life’s forces and in the same vein captured the attention of a modernist world which looks out for racy, entertaining music, Ayinde Barrister is reputed for his unexampled creativity.
Ayinla Omowura was bohemian, profound and unarguably, one of the most original Yoruba musicians of post-colonial Nigeria. He was highly talented and between the period of his superstardom, 1970 to 1980, and the time he got killed in a barroom brawl, he straddled the musical scene of western Nigeria and the west coast like a colossus. Using dense imageries, literary allusions, proverbs, and wise sayings, Omowura constructed sceneries that loom large in the subconscious of his listeners. Imageries of animals, human engagements and the blacksmithry where he once worked with his father, Yusuff Gbogbolowo, were deplored with relative ease in his songs.
Ayinla was apparently aware of the talismanic hold of his superstardom and the awesome powers of his talent. He flaunted these in the face of his musical traducers and competitors. This mastery of the geography of music and his flaunting of this understanding verged on arrant arrogance which rebounded on many of his contemporaries. This probably got him relentless combat against a string of enemies which even a combination of a thousand people would probably engage in their lifetimes. Yet, Ayinla was diffident and confident about conquering them all. His confidence was in his unique talent and in the talismanic powers of African traditional medicine.
While they were both reputed for their contributions to popular music and traditional culture in the southwestern region of Nigeria, scholarly arguments have ensued on the comparative weights of their individual stardom. The arguments began while they were both alive but it has outlived them at their passing. It was developed by their fans, out of engrossment with their talismanic and prodigious musical enchantments that still endure. More than four and one decades respectively after their departures, the most recent of the theses on their stardoms is that if Omowura, who pre-deceased Barrister, had not died, the stardom of Barrister would most probably not have had the sweeping hold it had on the dancehall for three decades before his own passing.
Of a truth, Ayinde Barrister, between 1980 when Omowura died and 2010 when he eventually passed as well, garnered a huge contemporary audience than Omowura probably gathered in his lifetime. Both of them rose to stardom in the period of Nigeria’s immediate post-civil war era beginning in 1970. It was a time of economic boom which came after the discovery of oil in abundance in the country. The petro-dollar craze in Nigeria at the time resulted in an era where there was a stampede by virtually all sectors and individuals to take a bite of the perceived surplusage that was touted in the Nigerian economy. It was also a time that witnessed an upshot in the craft of popular music. Musicians were forced to also engage in major economic transformations during the period of the 1970s and 1980s to ply their trades. The economic boom of this period, in no small measure, aided the rise of these powerful artists and the musical genres they played.
Their fans were the first to decipher the geography of consent and dissent from darts thrown at live music gigs and then smelled a mutating tiff between the two musicians. Omowura, however, burst the bubble in an album entitled Omi Titun (Vol.17) and laid bare the supremacy battle between him and Ayinde Barrister.
In a track of the album, he first began by cloaking who the subject of his harangue was. A man known for his cantankerous musical darts on his musical adversaries, He sang: Ayinde, ma je ki n gbo/ pe mo ji e l’orin lo/Ko je je be, oro apara ni…/E ma de ma gbe’ra san’le ni’waju iru wa/To ba se pe e gbe’raga ni iba san/A nroju je’ko obun lowo/Obun lohun nse fuji ni’gboro/O nf’owo y’okun, okuta nbo/Eyin ko mo pe, ka to p’elede, ese a pe/Ka to p’aja, ese a p’egbeta ndan?/Eni ba fe wo’le odu, a se’tutu…
Translated, it read, Ayinde, perish the thought that I stole a line of your song/This allegation cannot be so; it smacks more of a huge joke…/Don’t pump up a non-existing ego before a musician like me/If you really want to articulate your supremacy over me, say so for the world to hear/I merely honoured you by taking a sip of what belongs to you/Just like sharing a bite from a meal in the hand of someone sworn to a life of filth/This filthy Fuji musician now announces his worth and supremacy to the world by reason of my condescension/Don’t you know that music is like a coven and anyone who desires to share the dais with us will make sacrificial offerings?
In the same track, the next stanza saw Omowura going rather frontal, with an effusion of acidic diatribes against the said Ayinde. He sang: O fe je soda ni’le orin/Ayinde, o fe je soda ni’le orin/Ohun t’enikokan ki je laye/Eni to yo, to npanu e nile orin/Eni ti o yo lohun o ran’kun/N’isoju ojogbon, se lo mi a be…
Translated: He really wants to commit suicide on the bandstand/Ayinde wants to swallow a soap/A deadly poison that no human being who values their existence will ever contemplate/That move is comparable to someone going beyond their reach/The end result will be cataclysmic.
Barrister’s reply to Omowura in a track entitled Awa o ja was more mature than that of Omowura. He said that his own “Ayinde” could not have been the referent in the song by one Alapala – an Apala singer – attacking “one Ayinde” in an album. He said there were many Ayindes in the musical community and wondered why the said musician must choose him for attack since they didn’t engage in any duel over the snatching of each other’s wife. Even if he was the one that the said musician was attacking, said Ayinde, it was a reflection of his rising stardom. I gathered that the reason for Ayinla’s diatribe was that someone mentioned to him that Barrister claimed that a musician plagiarised his song and that description fitted Ayinla.
Based on secondary information gathered in the course of interviews with surviving family members, band members and close associates of the late Apala maestro, I had narrated elsewhere in a biography on Omowura (Adedayo: 2020) how there existed mutual friendship and veneration of individual talents between the duo, prior to this public spat. The relationship was really very cordial until 1974 when Ayinla invited Barrister to sing at the naming ceremony of one of his children which was held in Mushin. Barrister’s singing talent was unfolded here, to the admiration of Ayinla Omowura’s core financiers and backers present. He won the hearts of many of Omowura’s fans, one of whom was Alhaji Bejidande who was President of Omowura’s Fans Club. This apparently angered Ayinla Omowura.
The uniqueness of Barrister’s singing talent was his ability to code-switch, mime the song of whichever musician he desired and perhaps even outshine the originality of the musician. Coupled with the fact that he was possessed of a humble disposition that contradicted Omowura’s audacious underscore of his musical elan, to the chagrin of his contemporaries, it became rather easy for Ayinde Barrister to harvest admiration of fans and musical backers of Omowura. For those who knew Omowura, with his open demonstration of musical envy, this unsolicited harvest of affection and admiration by Omowura’s fans was akin to crossing the borderline..
During the Islamic pilgrimage to Mecca the next year, 1975 which the duo undertook differently, Ayinde Barrister attempted and did secure a thaw in the frosty relationship that existed between Omowura and another musical rival of his, Fatai Olowonyo. They had both been engaged in a very frightening musical war. Barrister sought a resolution of this spat in the bid to ingratiate himself to the heart of Omowura who was generally dreaded on the music scene. However, upon the resolution of this spat, in a seeming ad-lib track entitled Ade Oluwa, Omowura briefly referenced the resolution of the fight and neither acknowledged Barrister as one who ensured its resolution, nor did he give it more than a cursory mention.
A conflicting narration of what eventually became the denouement of the conflict between the two artists was an event that happened in 1978, two years prior to the murder of Omowura. Many sources close to the two musicians confirmed its veracity. Omowura had reportedly personally visited Barrister’s music organization’s booking office in Lagos to request that he sang at his (Omowura’s) child naming. Meeting Ayinde Barrister’s Secretary in the outer office, the Secretary reportedly asked that Omowura should fill out the guest’s request form before he could have an audience with her boss. Enraged by what he perceived as diffidence on the part of Barrister, Omowura reportedly stormed out of the office and proceeded to Ijebu-Igbo home of another great Apala musician, Haruna Ishola, to request that he sang at the said ceremony.
There is no doubt that mutual reverence of stardom existed between the two artistes, even though they both operated from different genres of traditional African music. To reinforce the notion of this mutual reverence, Ayinde Barrister competed in a keenly contested election for the Captaincy of Ayinla Omowura’s Fans Club. Wasiu Bejindade, famous Lagos auto dealer, emerged chairman of the Club in the election. While Barrister’s essentialization of Omowura must have made this possible, the decision by Omowura to invite Barrister to sing at his child naming ceremony, twice, must also have resulted from his underscore of Barrister’s superstardom too.
Yet, Ayinla Omowura was acutely jealous and abhorred rivalry and as such, the rise of a junior musical colleague like Barrister would naturally rebound with him. During my fieldwork penultimate writing his biography, virtually all respondents who interfaced with him testified to this. He fought musicians who tried to spar with him and he was dreaded for his spirituality. In one of his songs, he declared that any musician who dared duel with him had invariably received a visa to journey out of this world – Olorin to ba f’oju di mi lode, jije mimu e tan n’le aye. Omowura was feared like the cult world dreaded the Capon.
Barrister had shown huge telltale signs of superstardom as at 1980 when Ayinla died. Far more educated than Omowura who didn’t go to school, Barrister had even embarked on musical tours out of the country, a feat that Omowura couldn’t attain till death came calling. Though quantification of stardom is subjective, appreciation of the duo’s songs by their individual and most times, the interwoven sprawling clientele of fans at the time, which spread across the Yoruba-speaking western region, was dispassionately in favour of Omowura.
In his posthumous tribute to Omowura in his album, Aiye (1980) while he struggled to deflect arrows shot at him by allegations that he had a hand in the murder of the Apala musician, Barrister acknowledged Omowura as Baba wa – our father.
Again, Barrister’s copious lapping up of Omowura’s songs without attributions after his demise is reputed to lend credence to an appreciation of the latter’s musical supremacy. One of such songs was Omowura’s Ajikogba ede track. Omowura composed and sang the song at live performances before his death. Ayinde Barrister subsequently lapped up this track. There are also many lines of Omowura’s songs which, after his passage, Barrister copiously re-sang without an acknowledgement.
Many schools of thought say that there was no need for a comparative analysis of the duo’s superstardom-ness because they sang different genres of traditional African music. In Ayinla Omowura: Life and times of an Apala legend (2020) I attempted to state that in the history of Yoruba traditional music, there had always been seemingly fratricidal wars between musical counterpoises, their different musical domiciles notwithstanding. While there are no recorded tiff between Abibu Oluwa, forerunner of Sakara genre of music and Lefty Salami Balogun, S. Aka Baba Wahidi dueled with fellow Egba kinsman, Yusuff Olatunji because they sang same Sakara. Kasumu Adio, born 1928, who died very young, dueled with Haruna Ishola as well as Raji Owonikoko, leader of self-styled Kwara System Originator Band. However, Ibadan-based musical anecdotist, Epo Akara, who, genre-wise, was in a world of his own, engaged in musical supremacy and occupation of the stardom world with fellow musicians who sang variants other than his Awurebe genre. As such, genres may be different, the topmost echelon of stardom is coveted by these African musicians and the race to the top necessitates rivalry, backbiting and musical brick-bats against one another.
This problematic schematization of sound and art played a significant role in the rise of Ayinla Omowura and Ayinde Barrister, as well as the public politics built around their personalities. My submission is thus that, though Ayinde Barrister appropriated and approximated the absence of Omowura in an awesome way to flourish musically, even dying greater than Omowura, the death of the former gave fillip to this massive superstardom among the Yoruba audience of his Fuji music. I thus submit that, if both musicians had existed side by side into 2010 when Barrister died, the latter could not have been able to unbuckle the musical shoes of Omowura who bestrode the Yoruba traditional musical scene of the 1970s like a colossus.
Our panel, tagged Fuji: An African Popular Culture, paraded very interesting papers as well. Professor Saheed Aderinto of the Western Carolina University, a known Fujician and amala cuisine promoter, presented “Musicians Should Avoid Partisan Politics”: Sikiru Ayinde Barrister and Political Fuji, 1980 – 2020, while Ayorinde Oladele of the Dept of Folklore and Ethnomusicology, Indiana University, Bloomington presented Ayinde Barrister and this “complex whole” called Fuji: Notes on Genre-making and agency in African popular culture and Stephen Boluwaduro of the University of Wisconsin-Madison presented Negotiating Body, Sex and Self-fashioning in Fuji Performance. Aderinto thawed the ice when, upon the refusal of the Power Point gadget to work, he jokingly told the audience that the spirit of Ayinla Omowura was in the hall and was probably angry.
I must thank Professor Aderinto who invited me to the ASA conference and for the delicious amala he treated me to inside the Marriot hotel venue of the conference. I also thank panel discussant, Jesse Weaver Shipley, an ethnographer, filmmaker and artist, who is also John D. Willard Professor of African and African American Studies and Oratory, as well as Panel Chair, Dr. Rosemary Popoola of the University of Wisconsin-Madison. It was also an opportunity to meet young Nigerian scholar mentees of Aderinto who hovered round him like bees do nectar. I was excited to meet Mojeeb Akanji Jimoh, a graduate student of Duke University and my classmate in the UI Law class who flew in from Durham, North Carolina solely to listen to my presentation. After the event, I fled in search of my rascally friends – Wale Adebanwi and Ebenezer Obadare – who were part of the several scholars from across the world who attended the ASA conference. It was an opportunity to fill in the gaps of space and time that separated us.
Celebrated columnist, journalist and Lawyer, Dr. Festus Adedayo writes from Ibadan, Oyo state
On Monday and Tuesday last week, workers and political operatives within the precincts of the new Senate building in the National Assembly complex, Abuja, were treated to a replica of the Theatre of the Absurd. This type of drama originated in Europe and later spread to America in the 1950s. It was influenced by existential philosophy and Albert Camus’s essay The Myth of Sisyphus.
In that work, Camus captured the fundamental human needs and compared the absurdity of man’s life with the situation a figure of Greek mythology, Sisyphus found himself, where he was condemned to repeat forever the task of pushing a boulder up a mountain, and repeatedly sees the same roll down the hill as he approaches the top.
He, thereafter, juxtaposed life’s absurdities with what he called the “unreasonable silence” of the universe to human needs and concluded that rather than adopt suicide, in frustration, “revolt” was required.
82-year-old Dr. Muhammed Adamu Fika, former Clerk to the National Assembly and former Chairman, of the National Assembly Service Commission (NASC), who calls himself the “smaller Adamu Fika,” must have come across the Camus essay in deciding to lead an emergency meeting of the Council of Retired Clerks and Secretaries of the National Assembly on November 18. The emergency meeting, which was jointly held with members of the Association of Retired Staff of the National Assembly was meant to salvage the pathetic plights of the National Assembly retirees.
Eighty-two-year-old Fika can hardly gather the pace to navigate round the corners of the National Assembly, but he insisted on making the trip to enable him to preside over the meeting as the Chairman of the Board of Trustees of the Council of Retired Clerks and Secretaries. As his retiree colleagues, many of whom are far younger, saw him struggling to walk the required distance from the Bola Ahmed Tinubu Library, originally fixed as venue to the new Senate building, they had to provide some shoulders to lean on. At one stage, an office chair was converted to a wheelchair to ensure the elderly Fika got to certain locations. It was a sad tale, especially if you look at the essence of Fika’s trip to the National Assembly. He was there to preside over a meeting to press home the need for the payment of the entitlements of National Assembly retirees. An alarm had earlier been sounded on the different Whatsapp platforms of the retired workers of the National Assembly to the effect their members were dying in numbers. It was revealed that no fewer than 20 retired workers had died awaiting the payment of their entitlements in the recent past. Another set of retirees numbering 12 were said to have been bedridden in different hospitals across the land. That alarm was more than enough to prompt Fika and his retiree colleagues to an emergency meeting. But the sight of an elderly man, fighting a just cause on an improvised wheelchair was more than absurd.
Payment of the entitlements got stalled after former President Muhammadu Buhari assented to the National Assembly Service Pensions Board Act, 2023, which mandated the National Pensions Commission (PENCOM) to hand over assets of the staff of the National Assembly in its custody after the passage of the National Assembly pension law.
In the beginning, there were no signs that things would go south on the implementation of the Act. Three months after the National Assembly Service Pensions Board Act came into effect, PENCOM had written the management to convey its decision to hand off the pension assets of the staff of the National Assembly, while requesting the National Assembly management to provide it with account details to remit the accrued funds. The 10th Senate and the House of Representatives also provided hope for the retirees by providing a take-off grant to the tune of N2.5 billion in the 2024 budget. However, the NASS management could not comply with the request from PENCOM because the Pensions Board had not been inaugurated. Months after months, the retirees waited. Those who were already enjoying their benefits when PENCOM was administering had the payments terminated, while the waiting game ensued.
In trying to fast-track the implementation of the Act, Fika, as the Chairman of the Board of Trustees of the Council of Retired Clerks and Secretaries had forwarded a letter to the President of the Senate, Godswill Akpabio, and the Speaker of the House of Representatives, Tajudeen Abbas, intimating them of the council’s recommendations for positions in the National Assembly Service Pensions Board.
Fika said in the letter, dated February 27, 2024, that “Considering the pathetic health conditions of our retired colleagues, Your Excellency will agree with me that the establishment of the National Assembly Pensions Board is overdue five (5) months after Mr. President’s assent.” He said that his letter was premised on the provisions of Sections 2 and 17(3) of the National Assembly Service Pensions Board Act, 2023, which indicate that the presiding officers of the National Assembly shall make the appointments subject to recommendations of the Council of Clerks and Secretaries. But some persons are insinuating that the undue delay might have been instigated by two strange bedfellows-politics and money. Where the two are involved, simply things hardly follow a straight course. However, nothing justifies the nearly 20-month delay in inaugurating the Pensions Board.
At the end of the emergency meeting on Monday, further meetings were said to have been scheduled at the instance of the Senate President, Akpabio, his deputy, Jibril Barau and others but there were no conclusive steps, yet.
A communique released after the meeting indicated that the retirees observed that the National Assembly Service Pensions Board Act, 2023 went through full legislative process in the 9th National Assembly and was assented to by President Muhammad Buhari. It further noted that the delay in implementing the Act has caused undue and untold hardship to the retirees who are unable to access their retirement benefits, adding that while a number of the retired Staff have died, many others are bedridden due to sufferings occasioned by the non-payment of their entitlements.
According to the communique, the meeting decried the pains the retired staff have been subjected to and recalled that appropriate recommendations as per the composition of the Pensions Board have been made to the Presiding Officers of the National Assembly, in line with the enabling Act.
Like every lover of Yoruba traditional music, language and culture, I have of recent been inundated with requests to lend a voice to the newest raging fire in the Fuji music genre. Since the passage of Alhaji Sikiru Ayinde Balogun, popularly known as Ayinde Barrister or Agbajelola Barusati, there have been longstanding tiffs on whom of the trio of Ayinde Omogbolahan Anifowose, KWAM 1; self-named King Saheed Osupa (K.S.O.) and Wasiu Alabi Pasuma, was the “King.”
These musicians’ recent quest for supremacy is not new. From time immemorial, supremacy battles have been part and parcel of Yoruba music. Apparently now tempered by modernity, in the olden days, the battles were fought with traditional spells, incantations and talisman aimed at deconstructing and liquidating their rivals. Mostly fought on genre basis, I submit that pre and post-independence entertainment scene would have been livelier, far more robust than it was but for the acrimonious liquidating fights of those eras.
In the Sakara music, Abibu Oluwa, a revered early precursor of this Yoruba musical genre, who reigned in the late 1920s and 1930s, had Salami Alabi Balogun, popularly known as Lefty Salami, Baba Mukaila and Yusuff Olatunji as members of his band. Oluwa praise-sang many Lagos elites of his time, especially Herbert Macaulay to whom he sang his praise in the famous track named “Macaulay Macaulay.” In it, he sang the foremost Nigerian nationalist’s alias of Ejonigboro – Snake on the Street and prayed that he would not come to shame.
Sakara also produced the likes of S. Aka Baba Wahidi, Kelani Yesufu (alias Kelly). It was sung with traditional Yoruba instruments like the solemn-sounding goje violin whose history is traced to the north, and the roundish Sakara drum, beaten with stick and whose appearance is like that of a tambourine. Sakara music is often called the Yoruba variant of western blues music because of its brooding rhythm though laced with a high dosage of philosophy.
When Oluwa died in 1964, he literally handed over to Lefty who, born on October 1913, died December 29, 1981. Lefty, a talking drummer under Oluwa, churned out over 35 records before his demise, one of which was a tribute to Lagos monarch, Oba Adele (Adele l’awa nfe – Oba Adele is the king we want) and another to the Elegushi family. I dwelt considerably on Sakara because it is believed to have had considerable influence on other genres of traditional African Yoruba music, especially Apala and Fuji, with the former sometimes indistinguishable from Sakara.
Apala music, whose exponent is said to be Haruna Ishola, originated in the late 1930s Nigeria. Delivered with musical instruments like a rattle (Sekere) thumb piano, (agidigbo) drums called Iya Ilu and Omele, a bell (agogo) and two or three talking drums, Apala and Sakara are the most complex of these genres of traditional Yoruba music, due to their infusion of philosophy, incantations and dense Yoruba language into their mix. Distinct, older and more difficult in mastery than Fuji music which is considered to be comparatively easy to sing, Ayinla Omowura, Ligali Mukaiba, Kasumu Adio, and many others were Apala leading lights of the time. The three genres have very dense Islamic background.
The latest entrant of all the three genres is Fuji. Pioneered by Ayinde Barrister no doubt, for an Apala musician biographer like me, I am confused that Omowura, as far back as early 1970s, asked listeners in need of good Fuji music to come learn from him – “Fuji t’o dara, e wa ko l’owo egbe wa…” Sorry, I digressed.
While KWAM 1 emerged with his Talazo music from the ashes of his being a music instrument arranger for Barrister’s musical organization in the early 1980s, the feud in the house after Barrister’s death erupted when narratives allegedly oozed unto the musical scene that KWAM 1 referred to himself as the creator of Fuji music. He however promptly denied the claim. For decades, Osupa and Pasuma were locked in horns over supremacy of the Fuji music genre. In August 2023, the two however seemed to have decided to thaw their feud as they shared stage with Wasiu Ayinde, at Ahmad Alawiye Folawiyo, an Islamic singer’s 50th birthday celebration in Lagos. KWAM 1 glibly acted as their senior colleague at the event.
As an indication that they are no bastards of the teething and recurrent supremacy battles that emblemize traditional Yoruba music, the three Fuji music icons seem to have gone into the trenches again. It first started with Taiye Currency, an Ibadan-based alter-ego of Pasuma picking a fight with the musician who self-styled himself Son of Anobi Muhammed’s Wife. In a viral video, Currency had disclaimed reference to Pasuma as his “father” in the music industry. In another video not long after, KWAM 1, like some kind of father figure, was shown asking Currency to apologize to Pasuma.
A few days ago, a video of Osupa went viral. Therein, he was chastising a particular hypocrite he called “Onirikimo” and “alabosi”, who is “stingy and is ready to shamelessly collect money from those under him.” Osupa also claimed that this “shameless elder” had strung a ring of corn round his waist and should be ready to be made fun of by hens. Watchers of the endless tiffs among these Fuji icons swear that KWAM 1 was the unnamed Fuji musician Osupa was casting aspersion on.
The trio of Sakara, Apala and Fuji music also witnessed such petty squabbles. While many claim that the fights were promotional gambits aimed at having their fans salivate for their hate-laced musical attacks against one another, some others claim that the rivalries were genuine. In the Apala music scene, Haruna Ishola and Kasumu Adio fought each other to the nadir, with Adio, who sang almost in the same voice and cadence as Ishola, suddenly vamoosing from the musical scene. Rumours and speculations had it then that a mysterious goat bit Adio and rendered him useless. While Ayinla Omowura also fought Fatai Olowonyo, Fatai Ayilara, among others in the Apala genre, the duo of Yusuff Olatunji and S. Aka also feuded till their last days. This is not to mention the interminable fight between Kollington Ayinla and Barrister.
If the tiff between the trio of KWAM 1, Osupa and Pasuma is about age and Yoruba traditional respect for elders, KWAM 1 would easily go away with the trophy of the best of the three. However, if philosophical depth, musical elan, research of lyrics and deployment of Yoruba language are at issue, none of the other two musicians can unbuckle Osupa’s sandals. Osupa began his musical career in 1983 as a teenager and has gone through the mills, his late father being a musician, too and Awurebe music lord, Dauda Epo Akara’s musical contemporary.
Unlike their predecessors, the three Fuji musicians are literate and should thus address their musical issues in more mature manner. Osupa even recently bagged a degree from the department of Political Science, University of Ibadan. One thing they should know is that, whether one is supreme to the other or not, their fans will readily queue behind the brand that delights them.
Two incidents happened during the 1994/95 NYSC service year, which I was part of in Birnin-Kebbi, Kebbi State, and they gave me profound culture shocks that I still remember till today. I would equally say that those incidents probably justified the Federal Government’s decision to float the scheme.
We were told that part of the reasons General Yakubu Gowon floated the NYSC was to ensure national integration, cohesion and exposure of young Nigerians to cultures of other parts of the country other than where they were born.
First was the shock of seeing a director that I was attached to in the then Government House, who had just taken a new wife, and sat among drivers, gate men and other junior staff to dine. I saw them seated round a huge iron pot of Koko, a local delicacy, exchanging one big spoon made of calabash, as each took turns to use the spoon to eat the delicacy. It was as if I was witnessing a scene where children of a big family were struggling to catch a portion of food or where people were eating Saara, as they say it in Yorubaland.
As I walked past the noisy crowd, I was transfixed seeing the newly-wedded director among the lot. He saw me standing still, as I couldn’t comprehend what he was doing there, and he got the message. ‘Taiyo, (as he used to call me) you won’t understand,’ he said as he waved to me to keep going. When we later saw, he explained that what he just did was a way of assuring the commoners that ‘we are all one,’ as they felicitated him on the new bride. But I could not fathom how the occupant of a ‘huge office’ as that of a director in a Government House , would sit among “commoners” on a tattered mat to share a single spoon and eat in public.
The other incident was quite pathetic. My friend, Tunde Omobuwa, was posted to a school in Yauri, in the southern part of the state, for his primary assignment. But he found the place boring on weekends. So, he arranged to always be with me on weekends.
One such weekend, we decided to take a stroll round the streets near the Government House. We took off from the place of my primary assignment, the Federal Information Centre; bought corn beside the office, and started ‘blowing’ the ‘mouth organ’ as we strolled. We were too engrossed in our gist and the sweetness of the corn to note that some young boys were trailing us, praying that some leftovers of the corn would drop for them to scavenge. Somehow, the two of us dropped the corn cob almost simultaneously. We were more than taken aback by a commotion that erupted at our back. Four eight or nine year-olds had descended on the supposed leftovers and broken the corn cobs into pieces. I was again transfixed as if one was hit by an electric shock. Remember that feeling when you play with electric fish?
I was moved to tears as I had never ever seen a group of children scavenging on nothing as it were. I beckoned to the kids and offered them N20, which was the highest denomination at the time, and with some smattering Hausa words told them to go buy their own corn from the same place we got ours. As they left, heading to the corn seller, I couldn’t erase that ugly sight from my mind. Was it really possible that some people scavenge on nothing this way? I was later to see incidents of children swarming around restaurants and pouncing on near empty plates.
These incidents told me clearly that the North was a different place and that the life of the boy child is not only risky and endangered but sold to stagnation and deprivation, unless you are one of the lucky few.
Having benefited from the free education policy of the Unity Party of Nigeria (UPN) between 1979 and 1983, when the Second Republic was terminated, I knew that there is a lot the government can do in educating the children. In my secondary school days, I was the Library Prefect at one point, and so I saw an excess of books supplied by the government to our school. So, I was an example of the feasibility of free education. It was the same way the Action Group government had handled education in the years preceding Nigeria’s independence and the First Republic.
So why can’t the state governments in the North declare free and compulsory education for the young ones out there? Why should children be made to scavenge on empty corn cobs just to see if they can find pieces of seeds left over?
And why was my director giving drivers and gate men in the Government House false hope that they were all the same, instead of him to challenge them to seek to lift themselves up the social ladder?
I think there was no excuse for the North not to have adopted a free education policy, just as Chief Obafemi Awolowo did in the South-West. And if we say the North needs to look itself in the mirror, you again remember the efforts by President Goodluck Jonathan to educate the multitude of Northern children through the Almajiri Schools. That government built more than 400 of such schools, which were abandoned because it could upset the oligarchy. The oligarchs forgot the truism that the children of the poor they refuse to train today won’t let their children sleep peacefully.
But the governor of Borno State, Prof Babagana Zulum, appears to have got the message. Last week, I was thrilled to see him organise a summit to reform the Almajiri system.
The Almajiri education system is a traditional Islamic method of learning widely obtained across states in northern Nigeria. Through that system, which is tied to Islamic teaching, youths, especially boys are kept out of the formal western education system. I don’t know why the teachings by Islamic scholars cannot go alongside that of Western education as it obtains in Saudi Arabia, Iran, Iraq and other Islamic countries that are doing well economically and in the world of science, technology.
While addressing the summit, Zulum had mentioned the need to address the root causes of insecurity through the provision of education for citizens of Borno, adding that improper teaching of Islamic studies has contributed to the emergence of Boko Haram insurgents in the state.
According to him, to curtail whatever is the adverse effect of Almajiri education; the Borno State Government has established the Arabic and Sangaya Education Board to introduce a unified curriculum for Sangaya and Islamic schools. He said that the reform would include establishing Higher Islamic Colleges to cater for Almajiri children and blending the religious teachings with the secular curricula as well as skills.
He said: “The Sangaya Reform is a great development. It will give Almajiri a better chance in life, particularly the introduction of integrating western education, vocational, numeracy, and literacy skills into the centres, which are also described as Almajiri and Islamic schools.
“Distinguished guests and esteemed educationists, government’s intention was to streamline the informal and formal education systems to quality integrated Sangaya School for admission into colleges and universities.”
One would have thought that governors with radical postures like Nasir el-Rufai and others before him would have proposed this type of reform, but it is better late than never. Zulum should be supported to get something out of this.
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