Chidi takes the cake

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And so to something I've been meaning to post. The title for this one was going to be: "Eat Me". But I thought that might be too much dirty talk for our otherwise sober blog (all puns related to 'eat me' would have been intended, of course).

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But let's get to it. Perhaps because this wasn't about anything 'negative' in the average Nigerian sense, there was no mention of Nigeria as such when this (tempting for the press at least) photostory was splashed in several UK newspapers mid-January(see image from the Metro of January 11). In fact this thing about a bride who had a cake made in her own image made most of the British press think of American 'supersize me' excess. And the bride does live in Dallas, Texas. But wait. Who was it that asked: what's in a name? A bride by the name of Chidi Ogbuta can only be of Nigerian extraction. Reading on, you realise she wasn't even a brand new blushing bride. No. Chidi and husband Innocent laid this on to mark their 10th wedding anniversary, after 4 kids. 200 eggs went into the 180kg creation. Vanity, or plain 'Nigerian' extravagance?

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"Growing up I have always wanted a doll made in my likeness," the bride told the press. "So, when we started planning for our church wedding I told my husband that I wanted a unique, personalised wedding - a wedding where my dream will come true... He gave his consent without reservations." Oh, that's all right then.

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Poor Innocent. In at least one web photo, he looked more enraptured of the cake than the real thing. It has been suggested that Mrs Ogbuta wanted the cake because when she was young she always wanted a doll that looked like her; something she must know will resonate with a lot of black girls. But we didn't all go and get life-size, look-alike cakes. Besides, a cake is not a doll. Others (who clearly have never been to Nigeria) have stretched to read some cultural significance, suggesting Chidi must have witnessed something similar growing up in Nigeria. As if we didn't all grow up in this same Nigeria.

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So while Nigerians may be slightly befuddled by the 'come-and-see-me' aspect of it all, the British are content to see it as a symptom of Americanness. So what of the Americans? Google 'Chidi Ogbuta' and read the discussion boards for the range of opinions.

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I'm just here thinking: Naija for show! Methinks the cake says more about the bakers' skill than of the bride it represents. Chidi Ogbuta may be well advised not to attempt similar for her 20th wedding anniversary; they would need more eggs for a start, not to mention icing sugar...

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Whatever brought on this unrestrained act, the cake's all eaten up now - and Chidi Ogbuta's had her 15 minutes of fame. If she were a model, they'd have called it a publicity stunt.

Naija Uncovered

I sometimes buy Nigerian ‘Soft Sell’ magazines. Soft porn in words if not necessarily in images, is what they are. If you want to know the low-down-dirty about Nigerian ‘high’ society and the desperately aspirational, it’s on the pages of these magazines you'll find it. They specialise in lurid headlines backed by salaciously vague details. There is room for everything – from sexual deviations to financial misappropriations to the fashionably clueless celebrated as trend-setters to the macabre. Some seriously criminal things are presented as tittle-tattle and the responsible reader is left wondering, 'Shouldn't the police be interested in this?' - see the headline about an Army Captain who allegedly bathed his children in acid ('Hey, I am the law!' the Army Captain would no doubt retort).

Which politicians have taken blood oaths at which shrines, which society ‘Madam’ or ‘Big Girl’ or ‘Big Boy’ (Big Girl/Boy can mean anything from hotshot businessman/woman to banker-sluts - *Naija is the only country in the world where young women become 'celebrities' just because they work in a bank; go figure!* - to glorified prostitute to drug baron/mule to kept man/woman to 419 Fraudster/scammer) fought this Big Boy/Girl over which Big Girl/Boy. Confused? Yeah, it can get like that. Nothing is off limits: ritual murders, which tycoon sleeps with his daughter, the lot. The weird and deviously wonderful. Even would-be Imam/Pastor-celebrities get whole pages to peddle their faiths.

All done in a fawning way that does not actually offend or alienate any ‘celebrity’. Soft Sells love celebrities and the bogusly rich. They are masters of the crude innuendo. Awash with insinuations, often blatantly so. Whenever I want Naija uncovered in all its vainglory, I go to the nearest stockists and get a couple of Soft Sells. Browsing through them on the London Underground, I think how bemused my co-passengers must be at these oddly shaped publications with lurid (sometimes gory) headlines and colours. If I'm feeling shy I fold the cover page away. The Soft Sells are a genre to themselves, and they mushroom by the week... so people must be reading, including occasionally me.

So recently I got 2 Soft Sells, Global Excellence and City People (the latter is arguably the market leader in Soft Sells; lots of women buy just so they can pick out what 'celebrity' style they'll get that Ankara cloth made into for next week's owambe, a serious business that's not to be trifled with). And here are a few picks from the mags...

Take this half page devoted to someone I would call an ‘aspirant celeb’, a lady by the name of Naomi David Gowing who is also known as ‘Lady Blue’. It is rumoured that some social climbers actually pay to have similar profiles written up about them, which explains why you'll suddenly see a whole page on which the 'biggest' lace seller in some market talks about her life and 'success'. Back to Gowing who is said to be a “fashionista and leading fashion merchant” (how it must infuriate true fashionistas to be lumped in the same category as Lady Blue). She relocated from Ghana because, according to her, “Nigerians are more fashion conscious than Ghanaians”. She has a boutique (every self-respecting 'Big Girl' has a boutique, though often the money to fuel expensive lifestyles comes from other, less visible means). Gowing once represented Ghana in an international modelling competition and trained with the ‘Super Modelling School’ in Accra. Or so she claims. There are whispers apparently that ‘Lady Blue’ is a lesbian. The lady replies, “So what?! I can’t answer that. I am not a Lesbian. People are just going about saying what they don’t know. I am married, I am happy, I have a child, so where does Lesbianism come in here? It is mischievous of people to call me names just because they see me hang out with my good friends... Now write this in capital letters, I am not a Lesbian!”

So there you have it. For a woman who proudly goes round with the nickname ‘Lady Blue’, I’d have thought lesbianism need not be the burning question Gowing should have to answer. Judging by her looks, the question I’d have liked to ask is, ‘Lady Blue, how come you look like a porn star?’

And it’s not all about Afrobeat co-heir Femi Kuti’s music when it comes to the Soft Sells. One did a piece on the musician’s ‘new release’ – a baby. Or several, if City People is to be believed. Femi Kuti had 2 kids by 2 different women in recent months. Not surprisingly, Fela’s son doesn’t want to talk about it. “I don’t talk to anybody anymore. I just do my thing and get on with my life... I just do my own thing and God blesses me.” And God blessed Femi with a third baby by a third woman. This latest mother comes with some pedigree. She is Bola Ajala, daughter of Adebisi Ajala, the man immortalised in song by Commander Ebenezer Obey. Remember how it goes?

“Ajala travel all over di world...”

And Femi Kuti is ‘travelling’ too, it seems.

Staying with music, fans of contemporary Yoruba music will recall the vinyl-war between Fuji greats Ayinde Barrister and Ayinla Kollington over Waka queen Salawa Abeni. One of them married her, while the other claimed to have ‘eaten her yam first’ – if you get the analogy.

“Awa la ko j’esu awe o, o dudu kanrin...”

Now who will wade in with words of wisdom in the eternal rivalry between Barrister and Kollington? Why, it’s none other than Salawa Abeni herself. She said, “They should stop the bad habits synonymous with them. I mean, they should stop that rubbish of releasing abusive songs. If they are not ashamed, we are ashamed.” And considering what these two old rascals have laid down on record about Salawa Abeni herself, one can see why she of all people will want them to shut their traps.

To more sober, or sobering, news. There is a piece on the political scandal swirling around the Speaker of the House of Representatives, Patricia Etteh, a woman who gives a new meaning to the Yoruba term “etekete”. Though she’s only been in the post a short while, Etteh is alleged to have squandered 5 million dollars of public money to redecorate official houses that were virtually new, acquire a fleet of official cars and lay on an extravagant birthday party for herself and friends in the US. The shit’s hit the fan and she’s been heckled “Ole! Ole!” (thief! thief!) on the floor of the house. 'Honourable' male members in majestic agbadas have fought like motor-park thugs in the house over her. What a woman. Madam Speaker is now said to suffer sleepless nights. What kind of low-rent scoundrel celebs are these? Sleepless nights? Someone please tell Mrs Etteh that self respecting troubled celebrities check into rehab rather than suffer “sleepless nights”.

And with all that wasted cash I hope the woman at least got her Elvis-sideburns waxed off in some exorbitant beauty spa. Otherwise, what’s the point?

Monarchs aren’t exempt from the Soft Sell treatment, as the fetchingly youthful Dein of Agbor has found. Years on the throne of his fathers, and he remains unmarried, somewhat controversially, according to City People. Apparently His Royal Highness must marry a virgin, and they aren’t easy to come by these days. What interested me about this piece is how, in the UK, such an article would function as a way of introducing certain strains of speculation into the persona’s continued unmarried status...

Monarchs aren’t exempt, neither are Nobel Laureates, and there’s an expose on the “four wives” of Soyinka...

Now let’s get downright dirty... The cover of Global Excellence promises a piece (hardly worth reading) in which Nollywood “screen stars” talk about the kind of man they’d like to marry. One of the ‘marrying kind’ it appears, is Cossy Orjiakor, a poor man’s Pamela Anderson who shamelessly paraded her massive jugglers of breasts in Nollywood flicks before the industry and the public tired of her. And with the picture on the cover of the mag, it’s no wonder. To think the woman actually walked around Lagos dressed like this! The image is reproduced here. Take a look at her orange-nippled breasts straining against that cheap white netting and hurl.

But it is the advert for a “Sugar Mummy” published in Global Excellence that really takes the cake. Please note that the ad came with the rough rectangle drawn around “a nice dick”. Some talk about their great personalities and some shout about their nice... whaaat?!

The Super-Mamas who want to hire this guy must not only be HIV free, they are politely asked not to 'flash'. Which reminds me that ‘flashing’ means different things in the UK and Nigeria. In Naija, flashing is ringing someone so they can see your number then you cut the line; this tells the receiver that you want them to use their own credit to call you back. In the UK, ‘flashing’ is a lot more sinister or saucier, depending where you stand. It means exposing your sexual bits to someone, usually a stranger, in public. Come to think of it, this advertiser wouldn’t mind the Sugar Mummies ‘flashing’ in the UK sense...

As for the ad, it has to be seen to be believed (or maybe I’m shocked by this only because I don’t live in weird and wonderful Naija) and so I’ve reproduced it here. Of course I’ve blacked out his mobile number and email address. I’m not trying to get the loser any clients.

His name is Nero. Nero of the “nice dick” - and what do you suppose he fiddles with?

Naija Takeaway

On March 31st, something or other prevented me getting my copy of The Guardian on Saturday, without which no weekend is complete. All was back to normal the following Saturday (7 April) however, and I found that the covergirl for the Weekend Magazine section for the 31st had in fact been Camilla Parker-Bowles, recently restyled and 'refurbished' as the Duchess of Cornwall - someone I never thought I'd have to mention on this blog. Call me a Diana freak, but I don't like the sight of Camilla. Certainly not my idea of a covergirl, so I was suddenly glad I'd missed out on The Guardian of the 31st.
And the Magazine section of April 7 was a delight (from the Reader's Letters page - where they usually write in on the previous week's content - it was evident most Guardian readers had chosen to ignore Camilla too, and talk about other things), and the Weekend magazine served up a mouth watering array of UK Takeaways - foods from different parts of the world. I kept flipping through the pages thinking: Where is Nigeria?

Nigeria was on page 42 (see pic), and the restaurant was well chosen. Though I haven't eaten out much at Nigerian restaurants in recent years, there is no denying the choice is wider than ever, with several popular places in my corner of London alone. Obalende Suya, situated at a well trodden spot in Kingsland Road, Dalston is one of the pioneers. Everyone's been there before at some time or other. According to The Guardian, Obalende Suya still comes highly recommended, and in this edition, the proprietor, Toks Odebunmi, gets a page to talk about his eatery. A Goat Suya, we are told, will set you back £5.98, which by UK standards isn't bad.

Political Circus

Saturday 10th February, and I went along to this media event where London-based Naija journos got to put questions to Governor Orji Kalu of Abia State who fancies a shot at the Nigerian presidency in the April poll on the PPA ticket. Some of us media people are lined up in the black & white pic below (the 2 ladies at the ends of the line-up aren't journos; they're organising 'Nigeria's Next Top Model' in the UK. You mean like the Tyra Banks thing? I asked. No, it will be a one night thing. Does the lady get to become a model though? I enquired further. They said: yes). Heading there on the day, I suddenly remembered I'd written a less than complimentary piece about the Governor back in 2003. Sometimes I thank God for the refuge of the arts. Politics is so much more cut-throat, whereas one can still be as political as hell with art. And I asked myself on the day: flirting with politics here? Well, maybe just for one day. Oh, alright then...

In the photos above, I was more interested in the industry of the modest media event - the setting up of the shots, the milling around of people, and the recording later at BEN TV - see Gov. Kalu below with television presenter Adora, and BEN's top man Alastair Soyode.

Who is a 'Nigerian' Artist?

This on the left is a page from the OM (Observer Magazine) of last week whose cover profile was Kele Okereke, a musician born in England to Nigerian parents.

You can't get a more unlikely black musician than this, playing as the only non-white member in what in England they call an Indie band (I can't claim to know one piece of music by this band, and that's saying something) and of an indeterminate sexuality. This last bit (the sexuality, that is) has raised a bit of an interest among some bloggers. The ensuing mini-debate (involving myself, Sokari & Kym Platt) led to a consideration - not about sexuality - but about identity. To put it another way: who is a 'Nigerian Artist' really?

Selling Nigeria

I had to do a double take when i first saw this series of London Underground adverts promoting Nigeria. As a tourist destination! I took another ride up and down the escalators just to be sure I wasn't seeing things. When I saw them at another Central London station, it became clear this is to be a regular sight now. Proud as one is at being Nigerian in spite of the infamy that often accompanies such identification, I still had to wonder why the adverts. What's the use? They won't do much to counter the avalance of negative press and perception in the outside world. Besides, hell will nearly freeze over before the rest of the travelling world begins to see Nigeria as an attractive holiday destination. But a friend of mine who saw these ads with me the second time, is more positive. A little goes a long way, he says.

Update 8 January pm
Thanks to Imnakoya who provided the link to the 'Heart of Africa' website where all the bright ideas to whitewash (or will it be a blackwash) Nigeria's image are set out. Lots of pictures of smiling beauties, men in traditional costumes, a waterfall, the coat-of-arms and our National Theatre.

The project seems to be coordinated from the US. The only flag I see on the page on this day is not the green-white-green, but the American stars and stripes. How depressing.

Lost in Hawaii

Here's a newspaper clip, through which I first learned of the arrest of actor Adewale Akinnuoye-Agbaje, who plays Mr Eko in the television series, Lost. It's the latest in a string of arrests involving cast members of the show, which is filmed in Hawaii. Still, it could have been worse. The actor will bounce back bigger and better, I expect.

Adewale Akinnuoye-Agbaje in brief...

"...London-born Adewale Akinnuoye-Agbaje who was asked in a media interview last week if there was pressure to make his name more Westernised to fit into Hollywood. His response was: “I’m of Nigerian descent, from the Yoruba tribe. Names are very significant in that culture. It basically states your purpose in life. Ade is ‘the crown’, Wale means ‘to arrive’, so that means ‘the crown has arrived’. Akin is ‘warrior’ and Agbaje is ‘prosperity and wealth’. Every day when someone calls my name, they remind me of that purpose and for me to renounce that would be sacrilege. The name caused a lot of scrapes growing up. And having come this far, I wasn’t going to abandon it for Hollywood. People are getting used to it. They abbreviate it to triple A.” - Culled from The Punch newspaper, Lagos, Nigeria.

still on the nmas

Talk show host and one of the organisers of the NMA awards, Soni Irabor, poses (left) with Taka Kpanja, who I learned is the current Miss ECOWAS.

Above is veteran Nigerian musician, Sonny Okosun who, almost from a sense of responsibility, came onstage everytime an artiste won who was not present - to accept awards on their behalf. He did this for several singers of the younger generation, referring to one or two as "my son".

Okosun also received a Lifetime Achievement Award on behalf of the late Fela Anikulapo Kuti, saying he was accepting for Fela "because he is alive; music never dies."

Another veteran, Sir Victor Uwaifo, got an award on the night for his evergreen song, Joromi.