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Obasanjo’s Bode Thomas discourtesy to Oyo Obas | By Festus Adedayo

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The social and cultural setting in Yorubaland literally exploded last Friday. It almost took the shine off the Oyo State government’s highly commendable inauguration of a 34.85 km Oyo-Iseyin Road and the completed Ladoke Akintola University of Technology, Iseyin Campus. The highly disputatious ex-Nigerian president, Olusegun Obasanjo, was in his usual sabre-rattling element. At that event, he tongue-lashed Yoruba Obas in the most irreverent display of gross disdain for the traditional stool and institution.

As I write this, an inclement anger of the people, like a vulture, is feasting on Obasanjo on the social media. He is minute by minute lacerated with all manner of irreverent words. A group from Iseyin, where the tongue-lash took place, even declared him persona-non-grata in the Oke-Ogun area of Oyo State.

The unkindest epithet given to Obasanjo as comment on his Iseyin discourtesy to the Obas is the ar’obafin – disrespecter of the monarchy. It reminds me of Alukoro, a Yoruba movie starring Fuji singer, Saheed Osupa; a man who, to me, sings as if he is an incarnate of my musical idol, Ayinla Omowura. Osupa laces his songs with an effusion of language, culture, depth and native wisdom which all answer to the profound musical calling of Omowura. In the movie, Osupa had played the role of Pela, a village bard. Strapping his agidigbo round his neck, with the musical instrument protruding on his belly, the flick began with him instigating townsfolk against an Ajisafe who he alleged had an incestuous liaison with his daughter. In rousing them up, Pela lectured the people on the boomeranging effect of silence to evil – “t’a ba ni ko kan wa, yi o kan eni ti o kan, ti o pada wa kan wa”, he counseled.

Then, a scene in the movie shifted to the palace. The whole village was in attendance, as well as a man called Olowoporoku and his wife. Still in his luxuriating voice and talent, Pela musically narrated Olowoporoku’s boldness of standing up to the monarchy headed by Oba Adewolu Adegoroye. He sang in denunciation of those who rise against the palace which Yoruba approximate as rising against the whole town. Pela announced that the enemy of the palace had been put to shame with the quashing of the conspiracy against the king and that haters of the monarchy were persons of mean repute. He sang this thus: “Ar’obafin, oju ti yin o//b’o je’yin le wa l’oni o//ab’Oba Adewolu… e l’aju le, gbogbo wa ni o s’oju…//ete kuku m’oni ete nwa, iyi m’eni iyi nba r’ode, eni ete mo’ra re l’awujo.”

Pela robed the king in the finest raiment. Oba Adewolu had a purity of character comparable only to the whiteness of a cattle egret (lekeleke) and Olowoporoku, not only was a mean character, but one whose moral standing was in the league of the filth of a pig. “Agberaga won a tun gbe’ra sanle, iru e ki s’eni iyi l’awujo…” Apparently the script to disgrace Olowoporoku having been pre-arranged, a goat that was dressed in exact apparel worn by Olowoporoku was brought to the palace. Pela then sang, asking the people to shout “monkey” – obo – “E ma pe obo ni! (Obo ni!)… eni wo’so bi obo (obo ni!) o de fila bi obo (obo ni!) o nb’oba da’sa (obo ni!)… aso ki le ro, t’e nkile t’e nru gaga?// Aso t’e ro t’e npon gege, s’ohun l’ewure ti nwo yi o!” He ended the musical narration by telling the palace hater that very soon, all those in his class would forcibly realize the majesty of the king – “isenyi le o m’oba//eyin t’e nb’oba l’eyin…”

At Iseyin, as the crowd savoured the occasion, amid effusive showering of praises on Obasanjo’s host governor, Seyi Makinde, the man known for always provoking verbal balls of fire suddenly sauntered into his familiar route. At the first occasion, the road inauguration, I was told that invited traditional rulers sat even when Obasanjo and his host arrived. When Obasanjo got up to address the crowd during the second event at the University of Technology’s opening, and the larger crowd of traditional rulers still sat, something snapped in him and Obasanjo went into his usual tempestuous tirade. If he had talked to the Obas in very civil language, it would have gone down well with Yoruba people. Rather, the ex-president spat out poison like a venomous rattlesnake, talking down on the natural rulers like a teacher does to offending kindergarten pupils. Flaffing his left hand like a salamander does its tail in a moment of extreme anger, Obasanjo then hectored on the rulers to stand up, “e dide!”, in the mode of a Garrison Commander at an army parade. His lips twitched awkwardly, and his countenance was like Sango, the god of thunder’s. He had earlier lectured the traditional rulers on giving honour to whom it is due.

The issue for determination in Iseyin on Friday is, who was the Ar’obafin? The Obas who dishonoured Ijoba (government) by refusing to join the upstanding people to welcome the governor or Obasanjo who upbraided them using a language meant for slaves on royalty?

Like many African societies, the Yoruba venerated their kings, almost to the point of idolatory. Their king was the incarnation of the concept of earthly sovereign. He regulated peace and order, guaranteed harmonic social relations with their fellow beings and was the intercessor who interacted between them and cosmic forces. The palace where the king lives, though owned by the whole town, was the outward representation of the people’s reverence for their king. It is always located at the sacred centre of the town and surrounded by huge walls. The palace’s importance was partly due to the fact that it was the place where decisions of the most important texture concerning town life were deliberated upon and taken. It was where esoteric rituals were performed among a coterie of a narrow circle of initiates.

A number of weird lore and mores were curated to give the king his primus inter pares aura and dread. First, the title of an Alaafin of Oyo, for instance, symbolized his unlimited powers. He was “lord of the universe and life,” “the master of the land” and “companion of the gods,” as well as the Kabiyesi who no one dares contradict his authority. He was a sacred ruler and ideological and political centre of power of his people who holds a dimension of power that was awesome. A number of secrecies, mystery and dread of things unknown and incomprehensible kept alive the oeuvres of sacredness of traditional institution in him. He was the mythical intermediary between his people and the gods and the link that connected the people with all the deities of the land and in whom there was a fulfillment of the desires of the gods in the land of the living. The legitimacy of the king’s royal power emanated from the dread and mysteries that were hoed round him. For instance, he must not see dead body. The belief that begot this was that, as one who symbolized and embodied life and being a life-giving force himself, sighting a dead body detracts from that power. He was also reputed with magical powers that were beyond his subjects’. That is why, upon the enthronement of an Oba, all magic men were required to scramble over one another to donate their amulets and powers to him. This is because the king was believed to be linked with the spirits of his deceased predecessors. As king, his major obligation was the sustenance of the prosperity and fertility of the land which he does by making sacrifices as at when required, engage in innumerable annual rites, as well as magic rituals.

The life and death of Obas in Yorubaland are a testament to their assumed powers. According to Samuel Johnson, not less than 21, out of 36 kings that this respected Yoruba history biographer included in his dynastic list, died by excruciating violence. In Oyo Alaafin, not a single one out of the kings of the 17th century died of natural death at a period regarded as the highest flourish of that kingdom. Indeed, fifteen of them, beginning with the 17th king Odarawu were compelled to commit suicide as a result of sentences passed by the oracle. As a means of implanting the authority and veneration of their kings in their minds, palace griots, who were mainly custodians of historical oral tradition of the people, narrated in poetic renditions the official version of the history of their kingdoms, heroic feats of their kings and stories of warfare, conquest.

However, the conversation between Obierika and Okonkwo in Chinua Achebe’s Things Fall Apart seems to sum up the calamity that befell traditional institution subsequently. Dissecting colonial incursion into Igboland and the various queer events that had since transpired, upset by the white man’s total and complete disregard for the Igbo cosmology and the people’s conception of justice, Obierika was stunned that the colonialists didn’t understand the people of Umuofia. Obierika had said: “The white man is very clever. He came quietly and peaceably with his religion. We were amused at his foolishness and allowed him to stay. Now he has won our brothers, and our clan can no longer act like one. He has put a knife on the things that held us together and we have fallen apart.” This, to me, equates the calamity that befell traditional institution in Yorubaland, the precursor of the Friday lacerating discourtesy heaped on Yoruba traditional institution by a man whose inscrutable disdain for the other person knows no bounds.

The white man indeed put a knife on the traditional institution that held Yoruba people together. This began with the gale of exiles it unleashed on highly venerated and dreaded monarchical stool. Oba Akitoye of Lagos was about the first. He had ascended the throne of his forefathers in 1841 and attempted to end the inhuman trade in persons. In this bid, he sowed enmity in the minds of local slave traders who contributed to his deposition and eventual exile. After the white men annexed Lagos in 1861 as a British territorial colony, it was time for recalcitrant kings who insisted on the supremacy of their thrones to be dealt with too. Thus, Ovonramwen Nogbaisi, the Oba of Benin, was equally chased off the throne and exiled to Calabar, alongside his two queens, leading to his eventual death in 1914.

Other kings who tasted the sour broths of the white colonialists were the Alake of Egba land, Oba Sir Ladapo Samuel Ademola who ascended the throne on May 28, 1920. He was the father of Justice Adetokunbo Ademola, the first indigenous Chief Justice of Nigeria at the granting of independence in 1960. After 27 years of being on the throne, his power was eroded after a violent protest of about 2000 women against colonial government’s native authority in 1947. Under the leadership of Mrs. Funmilayo Ransom-Kuti, with the assistance of her sister-in-law, Eniola Soyinka, the women virulently protested against taxes for women. Prodded on by colonial disdain for traditional rulers, it was bye to the highly venerated Yoruba monarchy as the women successfully chased Oba Ademola out of the palace.

Obasanjo’s shout on the Iseyin kings to stand up reminds me of the same call by mercurial deputy leader of the Action Group, Chief Bode Thomas. Born in 1918, Thomas was one of the most brilliant solicitors of Yoruba extraction of pre-colonial Nigeria. In company with Chief Rotimi Williams and Chief Remilekun Fani-Kayode, he established the law firm named Thomas, Willams, Kayode and co. He was however far removed from the indigenous texture of his native Oyo town where he was born. He was also very haughty. So when in 1953, Thomas was appointed the Oyo Divisional Council Chairman, it was obvious that he would find his measure in the father of the recently deceased Alaafin of Oyo, Oba Adeniran Adeyemi II, who reigned on the stool from 1945 to 1954. On November 22, 1953, the day the 35-year-old Thomas made his first appearance in council, just like the Iseyin Obas gathered at the Friday function, Thomas could not countenance why Alaafin Adeniran would sit while others stood for him. Like Obasanjo, he immediately expressed his disavowal at this. He then asked the Oba, who was then in his 60s, “Why are you sitting when I walked in, don’t you know how to show respect?” During one of my discussions with Alaafin Lamidi Adeyemi who just passed, he confirmed to me that his father merely rhetorically demanded if it was him that Thomas was barking at – se’mi lo ngbo mo baun? And then commanded Thomas, to continue in his bark – Ma gbo lo baun! Oba Adeniran was to pay dearly for this as he was deposed and died in exile at Egerton, a mosquito-infested Guest House in Lagos. Thomas continued barking like a dog and passed on in the morning of the second day.

As they say, since then, a lot of water has passed under the bridge. By the constitutions of Nigeria since the advent of colonialism, the palace has always been put under the subordination of political authorities. This has colossally eroded the respect, veneration and contributions to society of kings. As it is now, monarchs are under the subordination of local government chairmen who can instigate their deposition. Respected veteran journalist, Lekan Alabi, sent out a video of an interview conducted by the NTA Ibadan with him as the Producer and presenter, with late Kano State governor, Alhaji Abubakar Rimi. Rimi was having a spat with the Emir of Kano, Alhaji Ado Bayero during this period. In the interview, Rimi exploded: “The way you press and our political opponents (regard) the Emir of Kano is not the way we regard him. As far as we are concerned (thumping his chest) – we the elected government of Kano state – as far as I, the governor of Kano State, is concerned – the Emir of Kano is nothing, nothing, nothing but a public person… he is holding a public office… being paid from public funds and whose appointment is at the pleasure of the governor of the state and who can be dismissed, removed interdicted, suspended if he commits an offence. And there is nothing unique about Ado Bayero, the Emir of Kano… believe me, if he commits any offence which will make it necessary for us to remove him, we will remove him and we will sleep soundly.”

In the explanation of their cosmogony, it is Yoruba’s belief that, as hot and red-eyed as Sango is, not only does it give respect to the blacksmithry and the forge, Ile Aro, it is not in his keel to strike it with its thunder. Why will Obasanjo, a man who has taught culture and tradition overtime, be the hot anvil that will consume the anvil? Don’t Yoruba say that the reverse is unimaginable, in the saying that ina ewu kii jo ewu, ina ewiri kii jo ewiri? Indeed, that Friday event was a mortal blow on traditional institution.

Why the Obasanjo Friday indecorous talk-down on the Iseyin Obas was unusual was that he had always shown the way to go to all political office holders by publicly courtesying to monarchs. He recently, even at his over 80 years old, prostrated to the Ooni of Ife who is younger in age than his first born. This is why, as I said earlier, if Obasanjo had not made a public ridicule of the Obas, he would have had sympathies of the people. First, he was far older than virtually all the kings at the event and thus deserved their respect. Second, as Nigeria’s former leader, who was Nigeria’s Head of State at a time many of them were in secondary school, they should have shown him some measure of honour. Sitting down when an elderly person stands is disrespect of the first order in Yorubaland. I have also confirmed that protocol, especially since the constitutional de-robing of kings of their essences, has since demanded that kings should pay obeisance to political leaders, including even the chairman of their local governments, at public events. However, as they say, if you are sent a message as a slave, you should be knowledgeable enough to deliver it as a freeborn.

To be fair to Obasanjo, though the gradual loss of verve of traditional institution didn’t begin with him, he willingly offered himself as its pallbearer. Many of the traditional rulers on parade in Nigeria today wear such disreputable robes that no one in their true senses should pay them any regard. Nyesom Wike, as governor of Rivers State, publicly dressed down one of them. Today, Yoruba do not venerate their kings any longer and do not see them as embodying their sovereignty. Rather than regulating peace and order of their domains, they are disruptors of the peace therein. The palace has become a den of thieves and fraudsters with many of them kings only to maximize pecuniary interests. No esoteric rituals are performed in palaces any longer but cryptic deals of fraudulence among a circle of fraudulent initiates, with the sacredness of traditional institution grossly destroyed. So, if Obasanjo talked down on them, he must have known that they were reverses of the natural rulers who deserved anyone’s respect.

I am actually interested in an aspect of the speech of Governor Makinde at the said event. On the vacant stool of the Alaafin, which is the subject of intense acrimony and tackles at the moment, Makinde had said: “Those of you fighting over the Alaafin stool should stop. Those who have collected money from people should know that Alaafin stool is not for sale. It is too important to Yorubaland that we will not sell it. For those who have collected money, I will take them to the EFCC”.

The governor’s homily is a representation of what ails traditional institution in Nigeria today. It has gone to the dogs. If it is possible for Makinde and the Oyo Mesi to recreate the profundity in tradition, language and culture of Yoruba people, panache and Yoruba leadership which the late Alaafin, Oba Lamidi Adeyemi manifested while alive, we probably would have none of those Iseyin Obas lacking the courage to damn Obasanjo’s bark at them to stand up. Kabiyesi, Omo Alowolodu, Iku Baba Yeye Lamidi Adeyemi, would rather die than be led by the nose to surrender as Obasanjo led those kings on Friday.

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NASS Pensioners: How Akpabio, Abbas Should Not Treat The Elderly

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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.

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The Fuji Music House Of Commotion

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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.

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Almajiri: Why Northern Leaders Must Look Themselves in the Mirror

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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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