Kalakuta Musical Choppings

A Nigerian musical icon, that does not make any reference to Naija food?  Is that one too a naija musical icon?

Fela’s early work set the scene. Jeun ku o’ko was a song about that Glutton who wears out his host with constant visits around meal times. At a time when the Nigerian economy was on the rise and many families had disposal incomes with which to show hospitality to visitors, some citizens of our great country were cursed with appetites that exceeded the average host’s entertainment budget. Those were the seventies when a walk down a Lagos street meant you sailed through various ‘smell zones’ as you went past each house, for there was always a soup being cooked in every kitchen that scented the air. Sometimes the smells collided in one house as various tenants work on different recipes. Those in the boy quarters had pots on stoves also. Depending which way the wind was blowing you could smell food from all the geo-political corners of Nigeria in that Lagos. Despite the oil boom and abundance of food, some individuals were just too greedy.

Chop and quench

O de

Waki and die

O de

A forced deportation was in order with strict warnings never to visit again; they hard simply over- eaten their welcome. This was 1971 and these kamikaze lovers of food risked their lives to get that satisfaction that a stomach stretched to its limits brought. With no fear of a high cholesterol, heart attacks or strokes and with complete disregard to Diabetes, they bravely ate tunnels through mountains. Gluttony is indeed a disease of plenty. There are no gluttons in a famine after all.

Fela called them Oni gbese (perennial debtors) for as they have eaten holes in their own pockets so will they attack other peoples’ income which their virulent appetites. But this is Naija and when we talk food we mean Money. Spending money is chopping (eating) money. For visitors wey no sabi, it is politicians chopping the National wealth and plunging Nigeria into debt.

In 1972 in Lady, Fela bemoaned the new assertive African woman who when the table was set would

take meat before anybody, thereby breaking the unwritten rule that the African man must eat meat first (so long as he was not vegetarian). The second rule is that he dies first as too much meat kills but that is another story.
After the reference to ladies came Gentleman in 1973 in which the singer claimed:

I no be gentleman at all
I bi Africa man, original
Dem call you, make you come chop
You chop small
You say you belleful
you say you be gentleman
You go hungri, you go suffer, you go quench
mi i no bi gentleman like that

This was when visitors were still liberally invited to eat due to the relative prosperity of the Oil Boom. Fela poked fun at the African adopting a fake modesty by eating less than he should while in his mind he imagines that he is behaving like an European Gentleman.

The ruling elite in the seventies took people for granted. The will of the people was trampled underfoot but the great musician warned in musical parables that the people cannot be treated as enemies as they will always win in the end. The people were likened to water. Easy to use and misuse.  Water looks passive yet it is capable of drowning children. Indeed Water no get enemy (1975)

If you wan cook soup, na water you go use

There is nothing you would do, that would not need water.

The heat of the tropics meant the thirst for water was always constant. It was the biggest need of the nation. It brought life into us through our mouths. Our bodies are mainly made up of water so a war declared on water was a stupid war declared on one’s self.  

BY 1976 things were getting harder for the guys. In the song No Buredi (Bread) Fela sang

Hungry dey show im power

You no get power to fight

No buredi

Each year tightened the noose on the neck of Nigeria’s economy. In 1977 Fela’s Stalemate spoke about the reincarnation of the Jeun Ko o’ku Glutton albeit the female version

Two heavy brothers dem sidon inside sun

Dem dey sweat, dem dey share one bottle of beer between dem selves.

Den one fine lady come meet dem , say , ‘brother abeg buy mi one bottle of beer na’.

Dem go look dem selves

Look the woman

Look dem Pocket

Look dem suffer for Africa

Dem go say stalemate

The heavy brothers probably bought beer by the cartons in previous years but words fail them now. In addition, and more importantly, their pockets fail them and they are unable to entertain this Jeun ku  o’ku girl (who interestingly will upgrade to asking for money for Brazillian hair and I phones in years to come).

By 1981 the chopping aka corruption had run into over drive and the debts stood taller than the great Killimanjaro. Original Sufferhead was a Fela song that lamented the extinction of the Kamikaze Glutton due to the harsh economic conditions. Everyone was now a long suffering Naija citizen with chronic malnutrition; an Original Sufferhead. Men were too hungry to care if the ladies took the meat before them, as meat na meat and you rejoiced when you saw it. The Owambe street parties had dried up and the family hospitality budget had been eradicated from homes.

Plenty plenty food for Africa

Food under-ground

Food on the ground

Na so-so plenty food for Africa

Ordinary food for man to chop nko?

E- no dey

The scarcity of food was the paradox that Naijaz lived through in the 80s. People felt they were created to suffer due to a curse that had been placed on their head. The singer articulated the minds and stomachs of the people eloquently.

We all know plenty food for Africa

Plenty plenty land

Plenty fertile land

Plenty plenty farm

Na so so land dey for Africa

Na the big big people dem go dey plant cocoa

If dem no plant cocoa dem go plant groundnut

Na the big big people go dey plant rubber

Operation feed the nation e plenty well well

Fertiliser scheme dey go and come

Billion billion billion Naira e dey follow am

Now we dey go buy rice from America

We dey make order rice from Brasillia

Dem dey send us rice from Thailand

Green revolution im sef im don start well

Ordinary food for men to chop for town nko?

E no dey

The importation of rice continues to shame the nation long after the singer has died and gone. The music continues to be played and the Jollof rice continues to be eaten. There is a prophetic dimension to music.

Today’s musicians will not let us rest with their plenty plenty Banana and so so Big cassava o!!! At least we don't import these two food items.

Lost Property 3

The 5^th December started well. A ex-class mate whose daughter had been missing for 6 weeks in southern Nigeria had been found. It was Christmas come early and a giant sigh of relief escaped from us all. I had been pleasantly surprised by the number of people (562)  who had shared the Missing Poster on Facebook. Many also expressed their joy that she had been found. These are people who have never met the 12 year old before. They have never heard her voice or laugh. That is the beauty of our shared humanity. We can relate and send out prayers and good wishes to strangers, and we have the ability to rejoice for others, who we may never meet in this lifetime. I have not even seen my colleague for 31 years.

But I see my young son daily and the two year old made his presence felt by flinging one of his tiny cars across the room. It landed on my laptop screen and shattered it. Now I have no I phone and no laptop!

Ha!!!!

Sunday the 9 th of December saw me on MC duties at the Mansag (Medical Association of Nigerians Across Great Britain) Christmas party. During a spare moment with one of my GP colleagues I began to moan about my lost phone, and the first question was about insurance. I said I had none.

‘What about your Bank Account?’ he asked. The question triggered something in my brain. The next day I found out that not only was I insured for lost telephones, all my household were covered under the same umbrella.

In no time all the insurance claims had been done with the corresponding paper work. I had gone to my network provider to collect a new SIM card and rang customer service to disable the lost phone. If the claim was successful, I would be paying £100 on the insurance excess (Not sure what that means), but it was still worth getting a new phone. I did feel that this Insurance company had trust issues when I read the following on the claim form:

We need to see something that tells us that the items you’re claiming for belongs to you and confirms the make, model, memory size, colour and IMEI (International Mobile Equipment Identity ) number of your mobile phone.

Problems really expose you. One and most important is I don’t read the small print and when I do I forget.

I am one of those that scrolls to the bottom and clicks the I Accept icon every time. Time to change? I do not think so.

My saving grace is that I tell my problems to people who I consider to have a bit of sense. You know the type who would commiserate with you, laugh at the ironies, but end the conversation with, ‘have you thought of…?’

Telling your woes to people who just say ‘Pele, Pele’ (Not the Brazillian legend), is a waste of time.

It is simple, if you will not read the small print and pontificate on every detail, then you must be humble, be a good judging of human character and be able to take action without having all the information available to you. I find that creative people find the routine things of life ‘boring’, hence the high number of them that get ripped off by accountants and managers. We are what we are. Socrates says know thyself and Sunbola says shine ya eyes.

It is impossible to eat your cake and have it. One cannot be visionary and sweat the small stuff, and one cannot have everything planned out to perfection and expect to creatively spring the unexpected. One has to accept one’s limitations and if reading eight to twenty paged contracts are totally unpalatable, then one must humble oneself and do what the clever friends say or hint at.

Still without an I phone and a Laptop, I find myself on the 12^th of December 2018, twenty two years since the loss of my father. He never owned an I phone or laptop during his life, so I am sure he must be wondering what the fuss is. May his soul continue to rest in peace. I am now rocking my Nokia telephone and my I pod for Facebook; which I access only when at home enjoying Wifi. I have been loaned a laptop by  my wife who has two laptops and I find myself struggling with this fall from grace. Landlord Laptop ‘flexing’ to Tenant laptop living.

William Shakespeare had no Laptop and see what he wrote. Maybe God is working something great in my life.Its the Twelfth Night after all in The  Winter tale of December. Finger’s crossed for All’s well that ends well.

13^th December; I jumped into the car and gave my broken laptop to the repairer. He wondered why I was still repairing a broken screen in an old Hp when I could have gotten a younger model long ago. He obviously knows nothing about loyalty and the attachment a writer develops to the tools of his trade. He didn’t actually say anything but I read his mind. I paid the fee in full and I went back home.

I sat at my table I brought out all my forms and I  rang the insurance company, armed with Policy Numbers, Claim Numbers, and Numbers 28 verse 8 How shall I curse, whom God hath not cursed? (Desperate times, spiritual measures please).

A happy voice took all my details and asked me questions like it was a Visa interview to gain entrance into the Federal Reserve of America. After lengthy security questions he said he couldn’t see my claim on the system and and blamed the high volume postage traffic of the ‘Christmas season’. I wondered if he was really at the office in front of a Desktop and not sat on the toilet working from home. It would have been impolite to ask.

17 th December; I got a phone call from a nice sounding lady. The insurance company had received my claim and wanted to go over some details. Just for security, a few questions….I was taken aback that the contents of my breakfast plate were not asked for.

‘When last did you see your phone?’

‘When last did your use it?’

‘Where was the phone when last seen?’ on and on she went like a Sherlock Holmes’ descendant.

Then came the joker, ‘The EE letter you kindly sent showed that the phone was last used on the third of December. You lost it on the first?’ Silence. I hadn’t read that letter. The letter that started thus:

Dear Wilson Orhiunu,

This is a confirmation of the date of the supply or connection, blacklisting and last usuage of your device

And ended

Date last used: 03 december 2018

Time last used: 15:19:06

Congratulations, your claim has been accepted.

I just knew there was a catch when strangers congratulate you. Then it came up that reconditioned phones are involved!

Now who wants to share phones with strangers? The argument started.

‘Well Doctor it is written in the terms and conditions’

Ha! Do I know where the mouths of the previous owners have been?

Talk of quality assurance gave me no assurance. Neither did the talk of a twelve month guarantee.

Why pay £100 for a second hand phone when I can buy the second hand phone myself?

‘Well, if you had read the terms and conditions…’

My alarm went off by 6am on the 18 th of Demcember but I couldn’t get out of bed. The run the night before was exhilarating but come morning, the above 50 tax must be pain. No pain no gain. A high profile lost his job due to a run of losses on the pitch and I said, ‘Ehen? Over £20 Million in compensation. Is that a sack? There would be someone in Lagos sacked today and he would be owed four month’s wages.

A text message came in that my phone will be delivered by 1.57pm and in ten minutes I got a call that my laptop was ready for collecting. I drove in the rain to pick up the laptop and on the way home branched at the EE store to arrange for my Sim only contract. By the time I got home the phone had been delivered and was charging.

Lost Property 2

Lost property 2

Once something is missing and you have checked everywhere for it, and there is nothing else to do, you wait. And wait. And wait. This ushers one into that limbo land of expectation. You hear stories of people who did not wait in vain and were blessed with good news. You try as much as possible to avoid the stories that end badly; the lost but never found stories.

Some people tell you bluntly that, ‘by now, if you haven’t heard anything, you will not hear anything' (looking at their watches as they speak). Others make facial expressions that tell you they think all hope is lost but their lips say hopeful things.

One waits and recalls that ‘last seen’ scene in the mind. My phone got left behind on the train by 11pm on the 1^st of December in Northampton as I travelled to Birmingham. I rang the Customer Services number by 11:19am on the 3^rd of December and was greeted by a friendly voice who took my phone number (Nokia) and promised to get back if he ‘heard anything’. He asked a description of the phone, and I said it was a Black I phone 7 in a Black protective case. The case contained my Reading ID Card for the National Archives library and my name and picture were on the card.

As soon as I put the phone down I had officially joined the group called ‘waiting for good news’. Wisdom dictates that one gets on with life and if the call came, then it came. What happened next surprised me. I made sure the ringer was on and the battery fully charged and began to look at the phone waiting for it to ring. I got on with work and suddenly I heard a vibration and jumped. It was the I phone 7 that used to be on vibrate mode. This Nokia just rang when it had something to tell me. I checked and there was no missed call. Auditory hallucinations don come o!

16:05 hours  I was on the phone again to customer services. ‘Let me check..’ I waited in anticipation for one or two minutes then the voice said,’I am sorry..’

I asked when a member of staff might have had access to the train after 11pm on the night of the 1^st of December. He said he did not know. It depends on which depot the train went to. It might have gone to the depot in Northampton to be cleaned or might have gone to Bletchley or London. If a passenger didn’t take the phone when I alighted in Northampton (unlikely anyway as I was the last to leave) then it would be members of staff that would see the phone first. There was a procedure for logging left items and since this particular carriage could be anywhere in the country, it may take time. What if the phone is under a seat? Who would find it then?

Whatever the situation, I knew that whoever saw the phone would open it up and see my ID, see my face, then make a decision. Hand it over or keep it. I started to conjure up curses on any potential thief.

Things like a double torsion of the testicles leading to gangrene and a rotten scrotum, fractures in all limbs, leprosy, penury and hard ship, I could have gone all day but I recalled that Jesus was crucified between two thieves and he did not judge them. To cheer myself I started fantasying about meeting my black I phone again. Peaches and Herbs had a slow jam we loved in the school days called Reunited.

I was a fool to ever leave your side
Me minus you is such a lonely ride
The breakup we had has made me lonesome and sad
I realize I love you 'cause I want you bad, hey, hey

Reunited, and it feels so good
Reunited 'cause we understood
There's one perfect fit
And, sugar, this one is it
We both are so excited 'cause we're reunited, hey, hey

Didn’t they sing it so well? As I finished that song in my jukebox mind Robert Flack and Donny Hathaway started all the way from 1979

Seems we've weathered
Hard times we've been through
In silence I've waited
I missed you (I missed you too)

'Cause you, you and I back together again
Got the world in a spin
You, you and I back together again
Got the world in a spin

Na so craze dey start o! Waiting for that reunion; wishing and hoping that there would be a meeting up again. I am praying for that tiny machine to be back in my pocket.  I am yearning for it to vibrate away as the notifications pour in.

One can see Bob Marley’s point; nobody wants to wait in vain for anything. Not even the death penalty (some are on death row for ten years and they still kill them. Ha!!!). I have been asked how long I would hold out for before I get a new phone. I don’t even know.

Loss is part of life. Christmas is coming, and maybe I need a Christmas present. My own is easy; this waiting for news about a phone. Some are waiting for news of survival of loved ones in the battle front or in hospitals. Some have family members who have gone missing.  I pray all the people with serious issues get their prayers answered. My own is a small matter.

Lost Property

Some losses scar for life. The pain might be glossed over quickly with a replacement but underneath, the scar eats away at the heart. A new car or job can be conjured up after a loss but that new habit of perpetually watching over one’s shoulders says it all; there is now a fear of a new lightning strike.

Not all losses are the same. There are losses with or without insurance. An insured ship could sink and the owners recoup their money from a begrudging insurance firm. The lives lost at sea are also covered by insurance. The families of the bereaved however only get cash payment though as insurance companies, who claim to insure life, are unable to raise the dead.

Most people no matter their age can tell you everything about what they have lost in life (obvious exceptions being those who have lost their memories). The best jokes are usually about losses and misfortune. That is just how the world goes around. A movie will never win an Oscar without the loss of lives, love or property being written into the script. If loss does not happen then the threat of loss was extremely great setting the stage for the hero who saves the day. A successful life is one that has bits of good fortune occurring in between the losses and the failures.

As Christmas approaches the mind goes to a young Joseph in the Bible losing his trust in his beloved Mary after she tells him a wonderfully mystical story about how she came to lose her period. If he thought that was bad, what was to come was even worse. They both lost this same son aged twelve years old when he was ‘forgotten’ in Jerusalem during a pilgrimage. They had to rush back and endure the looks of the people who they asked about a boy they left behind. Those stern looks that ask what kind of parent forgets their child? They found him three days later.

 They later lost the son to crucifixion at a later day, again for three days.

Some losses need divine intervention to rectify. Maybe all losses need some form of help to endure. I have met many old people who have lamented various losses in their lives and the lamentations of the elderly starts with their lost youth and strength. Next is their spouse and maybe children who have moved away.

People of all ages mourn the loss of a childhood spent in hardship; this one seems to follow people to the grave. Not knowing who the parents were is also a life- long problem for some. Parent’s dying in childhood or ‘disappearing’ means the child grows up wondering what it might have been like. There is nothing human beings have not lost; jobs, looks, height, singing voices and even the ground under their feet (earthquakes happen).

A guy once told me of how he caught his girlfriend with another man in a compromising position and ended the relationship. He soon acquired a new flame but his obsession with knowing where she was at every minute was wrecking the relationship. He had lost the ability to trust in a relationship.

So why all this Losing My Virginity talk like Richard Branson?

Ok, mek I talk true, my I phone 7 loss yesterday and e dey pain mi. No insurance sef.

On the 6^th December 2016 at precisely 12:28 hours I bought my beloved ‘chassis’ I phone 7 and was delirious with the great expectations of gratuitous selfies. It was Black and proud with a birthweight of 32G. Everyone around me knew about the purchase which had increased my family size to two (I- pod as first born).  It didn’t take long for people to start asking when the next child was due (Apple Watch) but I told them I was into family planning and had adopted a Sekonda for the time being.

I lost my beloved phone last night on the train. The London North Western line 21:28 hour’s service from Euston to Birmingham caused the problem. We got to Northampton and they announced that the train was to be split; the front four carriages were going to Birmingham while the last eight were to remain in Northampton. It made sense, because the passengers were few and there was no need to take twelve carriages down when four would have done.

I left the train and soon found out I had picked up the charger but left the phone behind. I rushed back but the doors to the last eight carriages had been shut and the train was about to move on. I rushed back to the front four carriages and that was when the mourning and lamenting started. How could this be? Perhaps I was too relaxed reading the newspapers and listening to my I pod. What if I didn’t come out to London for Tedxeuston? If only I had been more careful. Then I remembered that my car was in a multi-story car park in Birmingham and the car park ticket was in a compartment in my I phone’s protective covering. One by one different painful lashes of information began to knock on the door of my consciousness. No WhatsApp groups, no contacts, and my selfies from Tedxeuston all gone. Then I recalled all the pictures of slides I took in four different conferences.

I began to wonder if one can be called a human being without a phone in one’s possession. It was as if an essential organ such as the liver had been stolen. At New Street Station I collected the telephone number of Network Rail’s Customer Services and walked in the cold to the Car Park feeling despondent. Then I recalled what it was that took me to London in the first place. The 9^th edition ofTedxEuston; themed Dream Weavers. It was an opportunity to get inspired to keep weaving those dreams and ideas into reality. One of the speakers was MKO and Kudirat Abiola’s daughter, Hafsat Abiola-Costello, a human and civil rights campaigner.  She articulated the burden of responsibility on our shoulders to work for a better Nigeria. If I cannot cope with a lost phone is it Nigeria’s problems I will tackle? I had to repackage my spine and remind myself that Naija no dey come last.

It was tedious getting my car out and I had to stand around pressing buzzers and chatting with the car park night staff that were not even on site.

The story had to be re-told at home and the questions followed. Going on I cloud to find the phone yielded nothing. I woke up this morning and rang customer services and there had been no sightings of my phone.

The wake keeping was officially on. I started to tell all that my phone was gone. I got no comfort, just questions to which my answer of ‘No’ attracted strange looks.

‘Insured?’

‘Backed up on I cloud?’

‘Rang to block the phone?’

‘Heard anything positive form the train station?’

The mood threatened to dip but I heard an angel in my ear.

‘Wilson, man up and cheer up. You have used your money’s worth out of that poor phone. People had houses that contained phones burnt to the ground in the Californian fires. Stop mourning and go and type an obituary in memory of your I phone 7 (Legbegbe)’.