24022020

Vanguard, MONDAY, FEBRUARY 24, 2020 — 31
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Victor Olaiya: Trajectory of
Nigeria’s birth and decline
AWIDELY held African belief
is that there are three stages
in life: when you are born,
adulthood and old age which
presages eternal departure. These
are also symbolised by dawn,
afternoon and sunset.
Likewise, the life of Victor
Abimbola Olaiya, the music
genius can be broken into three
equal segments, neatly
characterized into three 30-year
periods. He was born into colonial
Nigeria in 1930 and witnessed the
agitations for independence and a
prosperous future. Thirty years
later, the new country, Nigeria was
midwifed.
Olaiya was commissioned to
perform at the official State
Banquet to mark October 1, 1960
Independence Day. In the next
thirty years, he saw a troubled
country seized by soldiers, fight a
needless and degenerative Civil
War in which some two million
perished, and the country firmly
under military jackboots.
In another three decades, as his
sun set, he also witnessed the sun
of his beloved country setting
thanks to a sick and parasitic
political class which plays politics
with everything.
Olaiya handled the trumpet the
way only a genius could, and
90
played Highlife music which
rocked the 1950s into the early
1970s and laid the foundation for
subsequent music genres like
Juju. The founder and creator of
Afro Beat, Fela Anikulapo-Kuti,
cut his teeth under him. Olaiya
was a music machine producing
one hit after another. One of them
is ‘Ilu Le’, a narrative of the
economic difficulties to which the
citizens of the new country were
being subjected.
The simple, emotive and highly
danceable song was rendered in
two stanzas in Shakespearian
couplet form. The first was about
the general hardship which all
suffered. The second stanza
focused on what he analysed as
the coping strategies of women.
He sang in Yoruba that a gaily
dressed woman would visit a man
and tell him she’d looked
everywhere for him, wondering if
nobody ever told him. For Olaiya,
this was a mere smokescreen for
the lady to seek financial bailout.
This highly melodious song with
simple and unforgettable lyrics,
speaks to the heart of the
populace. It was an early
indication of Olaiya being a social
conscience of the people. Also
embedded in the song is his
lifelong preoccupation with
women themes. Another hit “Omo
pupa” is a dedication to fair
skinned ladies. In wooing the lady
he tells her: “When I get to London,
I will send you money for ticket.”
Obviously a fake promise.
In “Mofe muyan” he sang:
“Please tell the lady not to leave. I
have said we came to catch fun.
Lady, please don’t leave. I am
child-like…” The “Mr. Judge”
song is rendered as a court drama
in which he is helpless about the
beautiful women, especially those
that frequent the Itafaji and
Tejuosho markets.
He sang in English: “I say Mr.
Judge show me the way. Before
you talk, I plead not guilty…All
the girls from Campus
Square…E.T. Mensah blow your
horn. Dr. Victor Olaiya blow your
horn.”
Monuments are
unlikely to be named
after him, but Dr.
Victor Abimbola
Olaiya who departed
on February 12, 2020
will never be forgotten
“Tina Mate” is a song wrapped
like a conflict in a question and
answer form. He asks, in any
given situation who do you
choose: mother or wife, wife or
girlfriend? In “Iyawo Maronu” the
husband tries to comfort the wife
and counsels her not to become
belligerent or adversarial just
because they are undergoing
financial challenges.
He cautions her not to become
unfaithful as nobody can predict
the future. In “Gbemisola” he uses
a female vocalist who praises the
husband and pledges her love,
singing: “If I have riches today,
you gave them to me.”
Olaiya loved and respected
women but in general, he tended
to see them in his music more as
lubricants of society rather than
engines that move society. “Iye
Jemila” is an hilarious song in
Ijebu languge in which he called
out an imaginary couple, the
parents of his heart throb, Jemila
who after collecting some money
from him refused to give him her
hand in marriage.
He makes an allusion to the
Ijebus alleged tendency to
counterfeit money. He cautioned
them: “Human beings are water.
They flow across the world. If we
don’t meet at the source, we’ll
meet upstream.”
In “Afrika” which he rendered in
English, he lamented that the
continent is burning and dying.
Singing: “Afrika, so so fight, fight,
fight. Afrika so so war, war,war.
Afrika so so fire, fire fire. Afrika so
so die, die, die.” He gave examples
of the then war theatres like
Congo, Sudan and Chad.
But in giving examples of the
wars in Angola, Mozambique,
Soweto (South Africa) Namibia
and Zimbabwe, he failed to
indicate that they were liberation
wars; necessary wars against
colonialism, racism and apartheid.
Olaiya sang many philosophical
songs employing the trumpet and
many languages, especially
Nigerian and Ghanaian. He was
a well organised person who
believed deeply in collectivity. I
was shocked in the late 1980s
when I got a message from him
seeking an appointment to visit
me in the Vanguard Newspapers
where I was Labour Editor. I
replied that he is a father of my
generation and that he should
rather, grant me the honour of
visiting him.
During our meeting at his hotel,
I discovered he had been reading
my debate against the Performing
Musicians Employers' Association
of Nigeria, PMEAN, being run by
non-employers who had tried to
drop the word “Employers” from
the organisation’s name and
changed the acronym to PMAN.
He wanted me to help build
another musicians body, the
Nigeria Union of Musicians,
NUM, which is “a forum for bands
(and) musicians who play an
instrument or sing.”
He was the President of the
NUM and wanted me, in addition,
to assist in getting the Radio,
Television and Theatre Workers
Union, RATTAWU, to affiliate the
NUM. Olaiya believed in labour
and solidarity and marched at the
May Day. During my visits, he
gave me copies of his records
which he autographed.
Nigeria underwent long spells
of military misrule with brutal
dictators holding the country in a
vile stranglehold. The most brutal
and kleptocratic was General Sani
Abacha who wanted to transform
into an ‘elected’ President. For
this, he deployed huge sums from
the looted national treasury. In
that season of infamy, Abacha
gave PMEAN a billion naira
contract to get all the notable
musicians to perform at a march
to endorse his be-goggled
makeover.
The leading musicians fell over
themselves to get to Abuja and
perform for evil. Tried as the
organisers could dangling huge
sums of money, two musicians
pointedly rejected the money and
refused to join in the chorus of
infamy: young Femi Kuti and
Olaiya. Monuments are unlikely
to be named after him, but Dr.
Victor Abimbola Olaiya who
departed on February 12, 2020 will
never be forgotten.
The radicalisation of political conflict
AT the heart of the concept of
democracy is the sanctity of the
idea that my opponent's view is a
strong part of the democratic
conversation. That whether or not I
agree with you, you have the right
to your position and to articulate it
to the electorate, and yes, that
position can include a vicious
denunciation of my opponent. That
is the basis of free speech and
political debate. Ideally, it should be
conducted with respect, but
decorum is not the test of validity.
Over the last few years in Nigeria, we
have gone from at least paying lip service
to this idea to a position where it is more
and more accepted that stamping on,
detaining and even killing those who
disagree with us is an acceptable
weapon in the political armory. Those
who use it do so because they feel a
level of impunity; it seems that the
refrain: 'and what can they do’ has
taken hold, something that can only
exist when the answer is 'nothing’. The
more it is ignored, the more daring and
empowered the culprits become.
Situations like this emerge because
of the example set by the highest
authorities in the land. While I
commend the decision taken by
government before Christmas to release
Sowore and Dasuki from detention, I
caution very clearly that such a move
does not undo the wrong or change the
course of others.
There are many others who remain in
questionable custody and the impunity
that exists at the top only emboldens
others throughout the system.
This type of impunity is almost always
justified by what I call the creed of the
wicked. The idea that the end justifies the
means; that we must take this action now,
this hard thing that must be done, because
in the long run, Nigeria will be better.
We are the ones willing to do so despite
the risk to ourselves.
But this argument amounts to the
idea that you simply must 'trust me’
with power that was never intended to
be granted, let alone abused in this
The traditional power balance
that means executive authority is
tempered by the legislature and
the judiciary has to remain
sacrosanct
way, lifts fundamental tenets of the
idea of benevolent dictatorship. But at
least with most benevolent dictators,
there is a clear roadmap and vision for
where they are taking us. If the
Nigerian government has that roadmap
today, then they are not telling us what
it is!
Perhaps that is the problem that they
face. If they could verbalise those
objectives they might get more support.
In the absence of them, the
transgressions
become the
story and
the focus.
T h e r e
does not
seem to be
a
recognition, or understanding, that
simply claiming to be morally right,
without working hard to gain the
support of your constituency is not
enough. Maybe what we have is the
simple arrogance that comes with the
belief that 'now I am in power, I do not
have to explain myself to you’. I do not
believe this is solely the problem of the
Federal Government in Nigeria; it has
filtered down into the states and it is
spreading to local governments, to
traditional institutions, to religious
organisations, to businesses.
This slide of moral suasion over the
rule of law is one that is very slippery
and it is something that we have to
watch closely. The traditional power
balance that means executive authority is
tempered by the legislature and the
judiciary has to remain sacrosanct.
The more court orders are disobeyed,
the faster the slide is. The life and death
fight for power, winner takes all, loser
loses all cult like political parties
dedicated only to win power and crush
opposition is damaging.
There is no programme difference
between political parties; although even
if there were, radicalisation is possible,
but a lot more difficult. People have right
to push back against radicalisation: to
ask the political parties what they stand
for and how much of what they stand is
meaningful.
But I want to be clear that this is not
solely the fault of the executive. It
cannot happen if the other institutions
are strong. It would not be possible for
judicial orders to be ignored; if there
wasn’t at least some semblance of belief
across the system in Nigeria that the
Judiciary itself has been compromised.
The judges and lawyers that have
allowed such a situation to develop must
be held equally accountable. It is their
responsibility to ensure that the judicial
arm is beyond suspicion, but they have
failed at that task. All is not lost. But
time is running out and the journey to
the 2023 elections is going to be a rocky
one. How the process evolves and
develops will be the true strength of our
democracy.
Will that vibrant opposition that I
spoke of at the start be allowed to
flourish? Or will we continue down the
path to silencing dissent, and so
significantly degrade the democratic
freedoms that we aspire to have closely?
C
M
Y