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I stopped mimicking alien shows of affection

After Saretu rejected my love-tinged flower

I refused to excise the “U” in her name

For I want all to know

That that fanciful “Saret”

That aper of far-flung culture

Had her cord buried

In the red earth of my village.

Saretu of the turbulent eyes

Saretu of the dimpled cheeks

Saretu of the gap-toothed smiles

Saretu of the thundering gait

Rejected my adoring flower

On that day made for lovers

Saretu, why reject my flower?

Haven’t you once chided me

To stop being what my forefathers were?

Why now reject my little rose

Of which girls across the sea

Sprain their nostrils to inhale?

You asked with your sensuous lips pouting:

“Na flower I go chop?”

Excerpted from the poet’s forthcoming collection, ‘A Thousand Years of Thirst’

The Centre for
Black and African Arts and Civilisation (CBAAC) and the Institute for
French Research in Africa (IFRA), Institute of African Studies,
University of Ibadan, further advanced their relationship on Tuesday,
February 8 when the director of IFRA visited the parastatal of the
Federal Ministry of Culture.

Gerard Chouin’s
visit to the Broad Street, Lagos headquarters of CBAAC was to
strengthen the existing goodwill between both organisations.

IFRA was
established in 1990 and is financed by the French Ministry for Foreign
Affairs. Aside from its office at the University of Ibadan, the
organisation also operates from the Institute for Development Research,
Ahmadu Bello University, Zaria.

Mr Chouin apprised
his hosts comprising director general of CBAAC, Tunde Babawale, and
staff of the centre of IFRA’s mandate during his visit.

He disclosed that
IFRA is a not-for-profit institute promoting research in the social
sciences and humanities. It also facilitates exchanges between West
African scholars and their colleagues in France. The archaeologist
assured of IFRA’s continuous collaboration with CBAAC.

Babawale, who spoke
in the same vein, highlighted other areas of cooperation between both
organisations. The two directors agreed on a number of issues during
the visit. They resolved to pay attention to repatriation of artefacts
and the co-sponsoring of post graduate students. They also agreed to
cooperate further on projects including the comparative study of
heritage sites in Nigeria and an ongoing project on patrimony and
identity.

You can trust fans
of Afrobeat legend, Fela Anikulapo Kuti never to miss a chance to
celebrate the late music icon. The British Council Nigeria, National
Theatre (London) and British Deputy High Commission, Lagos, provided
them such an opportunity on Sunday, February 6 when they organised a
screening of ‘Fela!’ at the New Africa Shrine, Agidingbi, Ikeja, Lagos.

The production was
recorded last year at the Olivier (National Theatre) in London and had
been broadcasted by the BBC earlier this year. The screening at the
Shrine gave those who had missed the telecast an opportunity to see the
interesting show. And people seized the moment fully. The Shrine was
already bustling minutes to the 4pm commencement time of the viewing
and though there were empty seats initially, they were all later taken
by the multitude of Nigerian and foreign Afrobeat aficionados.

Welcome to the Shrine

Country director
of the British Council, David Higgs and daughter of the late musician,
Yeni, gave speeches before the show got underway. Giving a sort of
background to the event, Higgs disclosed that the National Theatre
likes to share its productions with audiences around the world. He
thanked Fela’s children and the management of the Shrine for hosting
the screening.

Yeni apologised
for Femi’s absence and seized the opportunity to allay the fears of
those who dread coming to the Shrine, especially first timers. “You can
see that we don’t eat people here. Go spread the news today, that we
don’t eat people here,” she said. Fela’s oldest child disclosed that
she was shocked months back when the British Council called to discuss
the hosting of the screening. Yeni also pre-empted critics by noting,
“Any criticism you have, remember this is an appreciation of a son of a
soil.”

Some innovations

The production,
directed and choreographed by Bill T. Jones wasn’t a bad affair though
the producers took some liberties in enacting Fela’s story on stage.
The men in Fela’s Egypt 80 Band never danced as vigorously as did the
male dancers in the National Theatre’s ‘Fela!’, neither was ‘Trouble
Sleep’ a duet by Fela and a female singer. Obviously, wishing to
respect the mood of Nigerians on MKO Abiola, the winner of the June 12,
1993 presidential elections, his name was deleted from ‘International
Thief Thief’. The producer’s decision to dramatise scenes in ‘Sorrows,
Tears and Blood’ was also a nice touch and the involvement of the
audience in the production was a master stroke.

It could also be
argued that the producers appropriated extensively from Carlos Moore’s
‘Fela: This Bitch of a Life’ in the parts involving his mother,
Funmilayo and the travails of his wives during the 1977 raid on
Kalakuta Republic.

Interestingly,
some of the scenes applauded by the audience during the live show were
also appreciated by those who saw the screening with both applauses
merging into one.

However, the
decision of the Shrine’s management to show the Chelsea versus
Liverpool match and later, the Real Madrid versus Real Sociedad at the
back while the screening was on wasn’t a very wise move. They only
succeeded in dividing the house. Nonetheless, it wasn’t a bad outing,
as some commentators noted.

Very fulfilling

“I think it’s
very fulfilling for us here. One must always be grateful when the
opportunity arises has it as today to showcase what has become an
international phenomenon at the New Africa Shrine. The only thing that
can top this for us is if the actual [musical] comes to the African
Shrine in March which we are looking forward to quite avidly,” said
Femi Odebunmi, one of those who viewed the production.

Fela’s son, Seun, said of the screening, “I feel it is essential to
make people have a taste of what the play is about and I’m sure with
time, the play itself would come here. This is just for people to
understand. I just pray that the right move be made to help people
understand what is going on out there about Fela.” For Higgs, screening
‘Fela’ at the Shrine was appropriate because, “the play is set in the
Shrine, so it’s the Shrine in the Shrine.” He added that beyond that,
“it’s an appreciation of Fela Kuti’s music. I mean his life in his
hometown but from elsewhere. I think that shows that Fela Kuti’s
influence was well beyond his own country.”

If the February 8
Barbican performance of the Creole Choir of Cuba were to be described
in one word, it would be called ‘Triumph’. A triumph that derives from
weathered collective challenges like slavery, displacement, bad
governance and natural disasters; and on this occasion, the barrier of
language.

The Creole Choir of
Cuba is a harmonious union of sages with voices raised in their native
tongue to tell the world their communal history. The Choir is more than
10 individuals wielding musical notes and percussion instruments; it is
a projection of bravery, endurance, talent and warmth.

Beyond language

The stage was laid
out simply, with no busy background accoutrements to distract the
audience; the choir of six women and four men dressed in simple, loose
fitting traditional attire was the cynosure of eyes. And from the very
first song, ‘Mangaje’, which with powerful solo and back-up acapella
recounts the disillusionment of African slaves in the new world, the
audience is transported to a temporal space where not words but emotion
is the Lingua-Franca.

The predominantly
white audience was given more than a glimpse of the soul of these
Haitian descendants of Cuba, who rendered one melody after the other
with remarkable flourish and verve; undeterred that a majority of their
listeners did not understand the language.

Perhaps because of
this, their faces, bodies, and movements reached where their vocal
expressions could not. They swayed, crouched, danced, mimed, pumped the
air in defiance or waved in victory. We heard in dirges, chants,
invocations, and laments as one story after another of pain, loss,
injustice and suffering was told with alternating emotions.

Mundane themes such
as the loneliness of a cattle drover travelling at dusk are woven with
those of war and political denunciation to create a spectrum of
thoughts and cultural insights. And with many of the songs performed
solo, the audience was given a taste of the choir’s versatility –
individually and collectively.

A frenzy of drumbeats

While the first
half produced a reflective atmosphere for past disappointments and
difficulties, the second was more upbeat. A frenzy of drumbeats,
dramatic dances and applause accompanied songs like ‘Ou Pa Nan Chaj’ –
as playful jeers where thrown the way of the diminutive male singer who
played a man ridiculed because of his inability to successfully woo any
female.

The show got more
animated when audience members were invited onstage to dance with the
undulating women to the excited hoots from the audience. The invitees,
who seemed to be familiar with the Haitian melodies, did not disappoint.

As if the Creole
and French speaking singers had not pleased the crowd enough, they
inspired even more appreciative applause when they broke into a
rendition of Nat King Cole’s ‘Unforgettable’.

The performance was
marked with an amazing sound clarity further complemented by indigenous
percussion instruments such as drums, choucounes and Haitian merengues,
which formed the sinew of the tunes.

Ten middle-aged
singers with remarkable memories in folklore can certainly do a lot in
communicating the brotherhood of the black race, with sounds and dances
reminiscent of the West African cultures to which their ancestors once
belonged.

Universality

Michelle Johnson,
a member of the audience, commended the choir and spoke on the
universality of black culture and music. “This performance shows the
strength and durability of black culture. The costumes, sounds and
movements are very similar to what I see in Jamaica or any other
African performance. Black arts [are] really self-rejuvenating.” “How
simple can you get – 10 voices and a few random bits of percussion and
the packed crowd was spellbound from the first notes,” remarked
journalist, Andy Snipper. Much as that is true. The Creole Choir of
Cuba, established in 1994, is no haphazard assortment. It is made up of
descendants of Camaguey (an old Cuban colonial town), who studied music
and nurtured the folk songs passed down orally to them since the early
19th century then gradually fusing it with modern Haitian sounds.

The smiles of appreciation at the end of the closing performance, ‘A
Tribute to the Sun’, told of the transcendental quality of music. This
Cuban choir eventually had the audience leaning out of their seats to
grab handshakes as they abandoned the stage and still singing, sashayed
into the crowd in a show of warmth rarely experienced in UK shows.

It was tempting to watch and see what ‘The Perfect Church’ had to offer that Nollywood had not served up a million times before.

The religious
satire from Wale Adenuga Productions is a screen adaptation of Ebi
Akpeti’s novel of the same title. Unusually for a Nollywood picture,
The Perfect Church lampoons, albeit not too hard, but the difference
from the rest of the pack is clear. Cheating husbands, homosexuals,
‘carnal believers’ and desperate singles are some of the awkward
vehicles moving the story’s plot.

Perfect by Name

The movie, directed
by Bambo Adebajo, opens aptly during Sunday service. A choir session is
ongoing in Pastor Benson’s ‘The Perfect Church’. Ramsey Nouah is
fitting in his role as Benson, shepherd of the perfect flock. It is not
the first time Nouah will be playing a pastor, though. He played a
similar role in ‘Church Business’, another religious satire from 2003.

Leading praise and
worship with the ‘voice of an angel’ is Sister Angela, played by Funke
Akindele, a senator’s mistress. The pastor’s sermon on marriage is a
winner with the congregation and they rush to gush to the pastor about
how moving it is: the congregation is in awe of its pastor and the
pastor is proud of his followers.

Alas, the key
players in the church’s activities are living a lie. Things in the
Church are not exactly as they seem. We are soon introduced to the
‘who’s who of what’s what’ in The Perfect Church.

Mr and Mrs. Ojo are
the church’s perfect couple, superbly portrayed by Hakeem Rahman and
Ngozi Ezeonu. Pastor Benson cites them as examples of what a perfect
marriage should be and hopes the rest of the church will emulate their
‘exemplary’ union.

Norbert Young is
Mrs Ojo’s former husband, who brings back good and bad memories. Jibola
Daboh is the distinguished Senator Val, lover to Sister Angela. Despite
having only a cameo appearance, Val is not easily forgotten and in a
movie filled with very bad men, Daboh joins Rahman as its
super-villains.

The church’s head
usher, anxious to marry above his status, soon dips his hands into the
money box, much like Judas Iscariot before him. Needless to say, the
Pastor did feel betrayed. Same for Yinka Olukunga in her role as the
devoted, desperate church sister eager to become Pastor Mrs. Benson.
She indulges in unsolicited ‘cooler’ ministry and has the courage to
propose to the Pastor after she is convinced that reception was loud
and clear when her prayers revealed she would be the handsome
preacher’s life partner. Benson, however, has other interests.

Imperfect by Nature

The
much-anticipated visit by Bishop Williams is the catalyst for the
unfurling and the collapse of the sandcastle that is the Perfect
Church. Acted excellently by Olu Jacobs, it is hard not to fall under
the spell of the Bishop, who soon has all and sundry confessing to
myriad sins. It is during his altar call that we see that there are
more sinners than previously believed. It was easier to have simply
said ‘Go and sin no more’ to the residents of this contemporary Sodom
and Gomorrah.

The picture ends
happily for some; two go to jail for attempted murder and one to hell
for suicide. On its part, the audience is acquainted with a narrator we
never knew existed. She obliges us – as she does the visiting students
from a private secondary school – with an epilogue on the Perfect
Church Saga. There is hope that a change in the church’s name will
herald a change in its nature.

The Perfect Church
is not the perfect movie. In its search for complexity, there are too
many flashbacks rather than authentic twists and revelations that could
task the audience’s imagination. The hints to the pastor’s darker side
are merely glossed over and we don’t feel the punch or essence of this
until the climactic moment of disclosure. The emphasis appears more on
the flock than on the shepherd and at the end, the pastor’s misfortune
seems not to matter so much. Not even to his flock whose awe swiftly
turns to disgust.

His comeuppance at
the end of the movie is also unrealistic and more of a cowardly act. In
fact, the unexpected suggestion by a child in the audience to ‘Kill all
of them; just kill them’ sounded like a more logical option than the
pastor’s eventual choice.

No Part Two

‘The Perfect
Church’ does not draw a clear line for itself between a satire and a
moralist play or a Greek tragedy. At some points, it preaches
forgiveness and also mocks the same; it hails courage but then takes
the easy way out; it satirises and also pampers.

The subtitles were sometimes faulty and some of the grammatical howlers strike you in the face like a bad day in history.

The movie however
makes up for its flaws with humorous lines and action. Beneath the
humour also lies a pointer to the thought that, in reality, no perfect
flock exists and the lesson that sin does not pay.

Even though it seemed like another episode of Super Story, there is
no promise of a sequel. See it if you love Nollywood; see it if you
hate Nollywood.

The writer,
Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie hits the nail on the head when she calls the
West on their obsession with the single story of gore that is their
Africa. Adichie is absolutely right: In the West, the power of the
single story races through cash registers and rifles through white
liberal pockets and rich racist valleys. However, there is the
implication that the single story is mostly the product of the other
(aka white person). Lately the single story has been bred, watered and
nurtured for profit by some African hustler-writers. I am talking of
people writing to the test of Western hunger for the stereotypical.

Whites are not the
only ones that climax to the beat of stereotypical African stories.
With all due respects, the bulk of contemporary African writing is all
about the single story that the white world loves. Indeed, several
African writers have over the years focused on the single story for
profit. These writers will probably ask you, what else is there to talk
about? And I agree, for different reasons.

Take Nigeria for instance;
there is only one single story. What our thieving leaders are doing to
Nigeria, is quite simply black on black crime. To tell any other story
would be criminal. In that respect, our writers are right to turn their
rage inwards and shame our leaders with a single story – the fate of
the fabled tortoise that borrowed feathers from birds, flew with them
to a feast in the skies and tricked them out of every morsel of the
feast. In that fable, the enraged birds sent the tortoise crashing down
to earth sans borrowed feathers. Let us send our leaders the way of the
greedy tortoise. The good people of Tunisia just sent their thieving
tortoise packing.

Achebe’s essay,
‘Today the Balance of Stories’ speaks to the racism inherent in stories
about Africa as told by Western writers and the occasional accomplice
of color like VS Naipaul. Adichie’s Single Story speech is essentially
Achebe’s seminal essay set to (YouTube) video. The new medium is not
The Book. It is called YouTube. Ideas rock and books are finding their
way into garden mulch. Think about it. Achebe is a prophet rendered
mute by advances in technology. In Adichie’s video testimony gone viral
on the Internet, Achebe’s great words are re-born. YouTube says we
ought to take a break from writing books and return to the oral
tradition of our ancestors.

Adichie represents
how things used to be and what to hope for in the Nigeria of our
dreams. Sadly, she is a painful stand-out from the forest of mediocrity
that now insists on respect. And hers is a thoughtful and inspiring
speech. But then, why are we running around assuring people that we
really are human beings? Why are we so defensive about our humanity and
why do we proclaim our humanity by denying in installments, all about
us that is authentically African? Why must we quote mostly Western
authors to prove that we are indeed learned? What is wrong with our
food? The French eat snails; it is not more appetising because they
call it escargot.

Why must we hide the fact that some of us relish
sautéed termites and loudly proclaim our love of caviar er fish eggs?
Many of us, especially our leaders have a complex about our African
heritage. Let us think deeply about these things. Our psychosis is more
than skin deep.

Heads ought to bloody roll for what has become of Nigeria under
civilian leadership. How can things be this bad in a land just bursting
at the seams with some of the best resources the world has? How can
people ignore the fact that there are no roads, there is no light, no
water, no safety and security, no health care facilities worth using
and the educational system has virtually collapsed? Our educational
system is so bad many of our Nigerian “professors” refuse to allow
their children in their own classrooms. What other stories are there to
tell of Nigeria? I am really beginning to believe that our people
deserve what they are getting.

Take Abuja; basically thieving
intellectuals, civil servants and politicians have carved up all the
choice land for themselves and shoved everyone else to the far
outskirts to live like sub-humans. And the people seem happy about it,
happily going about their daily business of begging thieves for crumbs.
If we really believe we are human beings like the white man, we should
be fighting this black on black crime.

As a people, we should take a
deep breath, stop the navel gazing and reflect on why five decades
after Achebe’s ‘Things Fall Apart’ we are still lecturing the white man
on the need for respect. It is hard to respect what the eye sees. There
is not much to respect in the shame that has become Nigeria. If we
urinate in our living room, how can we demand that visitors respect
said living room? Anyway, my point is this; we are our own worst
enemies.

Taiwo Owoyemi is
definitely a ladies’ man in terms of his Art. He happily admits so. And
to dispel any doubts about his preference for ladies, he has a giant
near-seven-foot wood sculpture of a lady selling, ‘Dignity of Labour’
that stands very proudly in the exhibition hall of Bruce Onobrakpeya’s
Harmattan Workshop in Agbarha Otor, Delta State.

He was able to
create this masterpiece in just under ten days and he credits the
serene nature of the workshop’s location at Agbarha Otor for this
achievement. Since 2006, Owoyemi has produced more than 10 carvings of
ladies. Why ladies? “I find the female form more interesting,” he
responds. “I find it interesting working with female forms because
there are a lot of characteristics to work with,” the artist Owoyemi
explains. “Styling and distorting the form to make it your own,” he
continues, “is a satisfying challenge,” adding that, “female forms are
more interesting than male forms.” He also points out that he is in
good company. “As artists we are attracted to the opposite sex and,
work more on the opposite sex. Most of Joe Musa and Ovraiti’s paintings
are based on women and so are Eghosa Oguigo’s paintings of dancers. My
wood sculptures or carvings incorporate both traditional and modern
concepts. I like looking at my carvings from the traditional concept in
terms of their make-up, beads, things that make the costumes and
generally make the works more attractive.”

Good wood

Owoyemi graduated
in 2006 from the Adeyemi College of Education; that awards Obafemi
Awolowo University degrees, with a major in Sculpture.

Why does he work
with wood? “I find wood a medium quite easy to work with, unlike
fibreglass, because when you get good wood, you have already seen the
end product. Working with wood will also reduce your distractions while
working because you will not be thinking about resins, mixing cement
and things like that.”

What are his
favourite wood species? “Ebony and teak, because they are more
durable.” How does he deal with realities like cracks in the wood?

“It depends on how
you master your art,” he explains. “As a wood carver, you will be able
to notice good wood before working on them and, you should be able to
dodge away from the cracks and achieve what you want because there is
no mistake in art. There is always the possibility that you can
transform the cracks to ornamentals and motifs that still go in line
with the work and add beauty.”

Is he
incorporating new ideas of ornamentation into his wood sculptures? “I
use ear-rings and traditional tattoos to adorn my works and make them
more traditional and African? What is the life span of his wood
sculptures? “I treat my wood when I work and; except for fire, I don’t
think they will get spoilt. Wood is a durable material especially good
wood; which should be preserved well; away from a moist environment.”

Taiwo Owoyemi held
his first solo exhibition, ‘Strokes N Dots’, at the Hexagon, Benin
City, Edo State from December 8 to 12, 2010; he sold more paintings
than sculptures on that outing. The attendance was massive, especially
at the opening which attracted a lot of art lecturers, the public and
curator of the National Gallery of Art, Benin City. According to him,
“the exhibition was about efforts and results and meant to tell a story
of my works as well as document them.” Because of space constraint, he
was able to display two reliefs and 23 paintings. Sales were fairly
good.

Long way to go

Nonetheless he
believes there is a long way to go. “The average Nigerian does not
appreciate sculpture, especially wood carvings, because they associate
them with fetish. They link them to idols and don’t want them in their
homes. They prefer paintings,” Owoyemi laments. “They don’t appreciate
the aesthetic value of arts because of lack of orientation,” he
explains. “My style of wood carving is not traditional per se. It is
more academic as I work with forms a lot!” He comes from Ikere-Ekiti in
Ekiti State and he is the first and only artist in his family. His
favourite sculptors are Nelson Edewor, who influenced him; and
Bamishile Hassan, based in Ife.

He started painting
in November 2009 and, having delved into it for practical as well as
artistic reasons. “I have a lot of sketches of sculptures that I have
not been able to work on. So I decided to do some of them as paintings
and put them in pictorial form; which is easier and more mobile than
sculptures. They require less space than sculptures.”

Different strokes

Meanwhile Taiwo
Owoyemi is still coming to terms with strong social perceptions about
his wood carvings of women. “Some people frown at nude carvings,” he
complains, “because they say it promotes immorality while others
appreciate the forms.” He is not about to let these views alter his
direction and creativity. “As an artist, I should be able to enlighten
people on my own view and intentions. I have my part to play in
enlightening the public,” he declares.

In the hand-out programme that accompanied ‘Strokes N Dots’, Owoyemi
waxes strong, that “success in life not being accidental, but must be
planned for.” He insists that, “no man is interested in excuse but only
result.” “I see man’s efforts like the different strokes a painter
makes to achieve an effect or forms on his canvass and the Dots are
representations of how successful the efforts turn out to be, as a
result of his skills and diligence,” he concludes.