So, about a month
or two ago, a coalition of musicians led by D’banj, who had sung for
the Goodluck Jonathan campaign; and Psquare, who had sung for the
Ibrahim Babangida campaign; gathered the press to a briefing in Ikeja,
Lagos and announced that they were committed to a series of free
rallies across the geopolitical zones of Nigeria to encourage young
people to register and vote.
Something wasn’t
quite right about it – and not just because, as someone who has been
part of civil society working on elections and youth participation over
the past year, the leading lights for this sudden campaign had been the
most reluctant to engage in any non-partisan process to get young
Nigerians involved.
The response across
social networks shared my surprise when the news hit. “We know those
who will do free shows,” one popular name tweeted. “And they have not
yet been born.”
I agreed – a
little. We know those who can do free shows – and they have been born,
they just weren’t the guys who were now involved in this free show. And
conspiracy theorists soon emerged – who swore that the presidential
candidate with the deepest pocket was using this supposedly
non-partisan platform to drive a deeply partisan agenda.
Nothing was heard about the concerts for weeks after.
In that period, a
group of young people (including me, for purposes of full disclosure)
began to work on the country’s first youth-centred political debate –
fixed for March 25. A debate that President Jonathan (you know, the big
pocket candidate) and Muhammadu Buhari had telegraphed a refusal to
attend.
Then, suddenly, on
the eve of the now famous NN24 national presidential debate, whispers
turned to frenzy: D’banj was going to be interviewing President
Jonathan on Silverbird Television. There’s no need to recount the
‘Dbanjing’ (a new word for nodding mumu-ly) that followed, or the
opprobrium that attended D’banj immediately after the interview – as
well as his cohort and boss, Don Jazzy, who made the mistake of trying
to defend the action on Twitter, against a band of angry young people.
As it is, and
obviously as a post-interview fallout, D’banj has not been seen
anywhere near the president. He is said to now have security due to
threats to his life, and his credibility as a youth advocate is
terribly impaired.
What was the
annoyance? Yes, there were some who would get angry anyway just because
D’banj exercised his constitutional right to endorse Mr. Jonathan – a
point which is really, er, pointless, as there is absolutely nothing so
terrible about the Jonathan candidacy that makes it impossible for him
to have true believers.
The anger was,
first, that D’banj positioned himself – wrongly and inappropriately –
as representing the youth. That was weird. Of course, he was buoyed by
his UN Youth ambassadorship, his The Future Awards for Young Person of
the Year and other such laurels, which he mentioned disingenuously
during the interview. But worse for him, was the advertorial that
followed – announcing one of those suspicious “It’s our time” free
concerts, to hold on the same day as the youth debate! Ah, the danger
of free shows.
The battle line was
drawn. Did D’banj and his sponsors really think young people are so
vacuous that they would choose music over a conversation about their
future?
There and then the concert’s buzz died.
Young celebrities
should be paying attention. Last year, when a host of singers and
actors began to gyrate for the candidates, while they denied that money
change hands, antennae were raised. But, of course, it is alright to
endorse a candidate or even do your job as a singer by entertaining at
his event.
The problem is when you get high on your own supply.
D’banj will yet
recover from this – but the elasticity of that recovery will lie in
whether this kind of, well, mistake becomes a pattern with him or
whether it is a one-off; a mistake to which he is entitled.
The choice he makes
will determine if his image goes the way of Onyeka Onwenu – who has now
sung for and ‘endorsed’ three consecutive PDP presidents, in addition
to that pesky concert for Sani Abacha in 1996 – or whether he will
build a powerful, activist brand, like his colleagues Banky W (who
shunned the concert) and MI, (who promptly returned the performance
fee, according to reports).
You see, folks might like it when you sing about the koko, but when push comes to shove, they know what the real koko is.
