When Eyerhymes and Shadows perched on Ibadan rooftops

I joined up with Ahmed Maiwada in the city of man-made fireflies after spending the night at Gimba Kakanda’s. Abuja is beautiful when the sun falls; it is equally a beauty with the sun hanging upon its sky. I arrived at Ahmed’s residence few minutes past 7am, and for the first time I met Tee […]

I joined up with Ahmed Maiwada in the city of man-made fireflies after spending the night at Gimba Kakanda’s. Abuja is beautiful when the sun falls; it is equally a beauty with the sun hanging upon its sky.
I arrived at Ahmed’s residence few minutes past 7am, and for the first time I met Tee Jay Dan, the Pimp, as I am fond of calling him these days, since his escapade at a workshop he attended in Lagos recently, which was covered pictorially on his Facebook timeline. He was to travel with us too, but for some reasons he backed out.  
We set out for our journey, my poetic Dad, the pilot, in his Toyota Highlander ground airline. It is not every day that one gets the opportunity to have a joint Reading Session alongside his mentor- I was offered that by Artmospere, who invited myself and Ahmed Maiwada for their May 2014 edition. On hearing of it earlier, I thought it to be a classic opportunity for myself and my poetic father to have been called upon to show our works- the session was termed Eyerhymes & Shadows, a mashed title of two of our most recent works of poetry: Eyerhymes for Maiwada and Sunbeam and Shadows for me, all poetry.
We are both poets, habitually, one will expect the literary discussion that will ensue to be about poetry, but ironically it was about prose, I read two of Ahmed’s short stories which are still in the works, I continue to marvel at the fluidity of the two stories, and how effortlessly a poet could transform into a prose writer, the language, unlike the flat narrations one is accustomed to these days, no wonder, BM Dzukogi said poetry is the soul of creative writing.  After hours, we stopped somewhere in Akure, Maiwada requested that I buy roasted plantain and groundnuts, at first I frowned at the idea, until he reassured it was a good combination. Well it turned out that he was right, I found myself yearning for more.
On reaching Osun State, I witnessed more Billboard politics than I am used to. Reading from the media, one will think Governor Babangida Aliyu does it better than any Nigerian Governor. Even Uncle Maiwada was in sync. There was a place where one Billboard was only separated from another by a few meters, and it stretched to almost a kilometer.   
We arrived Ibadan few minutes to 4pm, it was a home coming for Ahmed Maiwada, since it was in the city he did his Youth service, as far back as 1991, I was barely 3years old at that time. For me, it was my first sight of Ibadan, and I saw her. Really old! She was beautiful like that, as she adorned her old age elegantly, that one imagines how she must have looked at her prime. I hadn’t before then, seen a city so old and yet, so beautiful, after all, there is beauty even in old age. Don’t belief? See the rusty roofs, patterned brown, dirt? No, it smells and looks like earth in that colour, sophisticated in its beauty, eloquent in its age. Every city with its peculiarity, I have heard the tales of the Lagos traffic- I once heard about JP Clark’s Rusts in Ibadan- I have seen it now, and funnily elegant. I saw them clearly from the hills, as they were aligned in rows and columns within the valleys; I saw the roofs, even though the houses rose as storey buildings.
We drove deeper into the town, the roads sink you into the land, and they curl around it, allowing you to see the old Queen from a side view.
Servio Gbodamasi was at hand giving Maiwada directions over the device, but we still lost our way by just a roundabout, we were to take the second roundabout, but we took the third, and headed into the Industrial Layout, I think leading away to Ogun, redeemable kilometers from Challenge, the place we were to meet with Servio. I remained just the co-pilot with no knowledge of the geography of Ibadan what-so-ever, so I watched on as we drifted into solitude. It was noisy, vibrant, and then quiet; we must have missed our way. Uncle Ahmed realized and called Servio, who confirmed we must indeed have missed the way. As the U-turn was being made at a crossroad, we came across what stroke us as a ritual or at best, an offering to some god; plenty chickens mashed with eggs in a mortar, and its piston leaning on. Maiwada told me it is another trend, notoriously associated with Ibadan.
We caught up with Servio. He took us to Travels Budget hotel, and Ahmed Maiwada, in his usual generosity, took care of my bills and his. After seeing the rooms, we realized that a war was brewing in our stomachs. What else to eat in Ibadan, if not Amala, coincidentally my favorite meal. Servio offered to take us to a place we will get a good meal of Amala. IYADunyi restaurant fed us good, and sedated Maiwada, he was to be ‘useless’ that night. I, hmm, I accepted the invitation to see Beautiful Nubia and the Renaissance band play. Was picked up by this fine gentle man, Wale Dada, in company was his madam.
On getting to the venue the band was already deep into their performances, he was rounding up a song, the man I believed to be Beautiful Nubia. Immediately he plunged into a prayer for Nigeria that seemed useful at first. I was taken aback when he declared that Nigeria cannot work. Such outright utterance struck me at best as, philosophical exuberance that is actually as a result of shallow thinking.
But in all I was enlightened by his interlude sermon, he implored that the masses should fight for what is theirs; this country. He reaffirmed my belief that the problem of Nigeria is more of sheepish followership of leaders who we have all unanimously agreed to be clueless. I wonder who is more clueless.  
He said we need to save Nigeria from the vampirism of the elites. Yes I agreed. Then he said we need to get it back to decide what we need do with it, while suggesting we call it something else, but not Nigeria. And I thought of what’s in a name ‘’it is not hand nor neck nor anything belonging to a man, that which we call a rose, by any other name, will remain as sweet’’. Well in this case, this, which we call Nigeria by any other name, will remain as bitter.
His music was more insightful than his sermon, and I wallowed in the juiciness of his rhythms. I didn’t understand most of his lyrics, as he sang more in the Yoruba, alternating to English, time to time. I had a wonderful time; the music was electrifying, even when I engaged myself in an isolated argument with my inner man, begrudging some of the assertions by Beautiful Nubia.
I was taken to my hotel a little past 10pm that night, by Wale, it was a night still fresh, and my mind still holding on to the sweet tone of music played.
The next day was the event. But it was billed for 3pm. When it was almost time of the Artmosphere, we eagerly anticipated the event. Femi Morgan was to lead us to the venue. It was few minutes’ drive from the Hotel.
I was the first to read, after being introduced to the house. Then Ahmed Maiwada did too, I came back to the podium after his first reading; he read his short story, one of the two which I had earlier read while journeying to Ibadan. I read for the second time, and unfortunately the last time. I didn’t want to leave without doing performance poetry. So I did one, which I dedicated to Kofi Awoonor (www.africanwriter.com). As I was performing, that was when I first sighted a lady, who looked like Remy Binte Oge, well, it turned out to be her.
  After the whole reading was done, intellectual discourse aroused. And as always when Nigerians meet, we discussed our problems, up from ethnicity to religiosity. How our elites and political class have used these as vices to ensure that our heads stay divided. It was a healthy interaction, one which I am most proud to have been a part of.
At the end of the event, Wale Dada passed on another invitation for a group hangout. Remy, I and Maiwada, Femi, Servio and two other members of the audience had a wonderful time that night. And yes, it was the night Arsenal Football Club, finally won a Cup after 9 years. That had Remy dancing at the feel of a victory she has forgotten the taste of.
Next day,  I returned to Abuja with Maiwada then straight to Zaria. ABU Zaria was happy to see me again, he told me so. I heard him well and returned the gesture with a smile of Alhamdullilah!