I see waters of coruscation cascading down the tears of the sun, Hitting the horizon of my mother’s prayers and plummeting into a lost world of innumerable seas.
There are mountains of hope whose fellowship of proximity with the skies once blessed our lands with rains that poured copiously from the cup of wet winds and the reservoir of lightening and thunder.
I thought my heart was broken until I trespassed into the realms of the unknown where I drank waters whose cisterns were borrowed.Broken,shattered I took balm from the alters of forgiven transgressions to mend my broken wings,but posterity would have non of it.
I now speak words filled with mystery or perhaps I speak what is beyond mystery itself, when I call for knowledge for judgement from celestial heights.
This is all I seek to achieve-a simple sincere fratanity between longing souls and the thirst quenching streams of quietness.
Let me ask you ” have you ever wished for death,but repented when you thought of the dead?”
“Or did you ever wish a Better fate but was thankful when you witnessed sterner ones?”
Poetry is an ocean where i empty the left over wine from the cup of a broken heart and make libations of the dregs into the soil of depression.
Poetry is a room where I tell you my flaws without shame. With it,I can sculpt the shape of my heart and show you the dark paths i’ve throde. And you will know the storms I’ve weathered,the memories I carry.
Poetry is the language of the spirits and only the poet really knows what he speaks! He could say one thing and mean another!; How would you know? For Only the poet has the access codes of the safe that bears his words.
Poetry is a place where you can speak unspeakable things and readers scarcely look beyond your skill. Have you paused to ask these questions: What if they knew you were the gentle man that robbed their house last night? What if they knew you were the Aristo from the hotel room,the other day? No!..they couldn’t! For poetry clothes a nude body with a finely woven cape of words That leave you mouth agape.
Poetry is a listener that never judges the guilty, this way he[the writer ] [me]can pour his mind copiously into the jar of the wind,mounting his toes to dive into the sea of freedom.
Poetry renovates a broken story into a sweet adventure with the colours of words. When I am down,when you are not there,when I seek someone that will not judge me,I go to ‘poetopia’ In the land of poetry there are no limits,the portals of time can open into any realm, For in ‘poetopia’..my ‘poetopia’ we run on the most powerful fuel in the universe-words!
I retrospect with very lucid yet vague memories, the history of the Niger, her colour,her location, her role in the civil gymnastics between the east and the green white green.
I go back and forth on the hinge of time,its like I hold history in my grasp.
Between our return to Lagos, the three weeks at NYSC orientation camp and the miserly minutes spent,driving through the bridge,I had built a castle. A castle of thoughts,a conquest of memories-some good,some bad.
I go back and forth on the hinge of time,its like I was there when it all happened.
Between the gun powder,blood libations poured from the cup of genocide and the republic vendetta that clothed the land where three rivers carry two horses,on which an eagle stands in 1967 through 1970,I almost reopen old woulds.
We say we are one,but this blood of ethnic shenanigans that drives through our veins,this blood may never stop to remind us. Remind us about the boundaries in our dialect and the opium of our ancestral animosity.
Though its a necessity that civility bring us unity, but the calamity of historical antiquity never fails to reiterate it odious magnanimity.
I could voice until infinity on the complexion of the Niger. Her beauty,her aquatic alacrity, her power.She tells the story of my green white skinned mother.its where she derives her name from.
Between the plastic chair in this room and the freedom i see prancing away like a lark; and sniffing at the juvenile gust outside, from the binoculars of the window, is a cold frisson hanging in the still places of my brain.
Between the portal of time and space,I hear Nightingales croon away and flutter back and forth to their nest in the tree of my optimism.
They seem to comfort me from the abrasion of the raucous vendetta between every regret from the past and the feasible glory beaming from the future, umpired by the chaperoning of my present predicament.
Every ache of boredom seems to curdle the lips of my pen as I write. Perhaps the usual lots that entrap my muse would Wayne with time. Time spent in places I could only fantasize. Places where dreams come true. Places where darkness fades into light.
Silence does have a voice and it speaks in many dialects. Many beyond the dimensions of our realm.
So soon I travel through the length and breath of earth diving into
Memories from dreams that come creeping like wandering spiders,spooky air ambiences the house. How do I break through this code of silence?
The man of the house returns quite late and often inebriated these days. His wife could hardly complain, she was also a culprit in this emotional crime.Being one of the key administrative heads of a major bank in the country,she was a very busy woman adjusting to the very demanding nature of her job and parenting.keeping late had ossified into a norm for Mr and Mrs akin. Their three boys ola,dele and prince were used to going to bed without seeing both parents. Major akin was a young officer in the Nigerian army with a lot of promotion potentials. My mum would work herself to stupor with house chores and part time parenting,for the boss’ kids. ‘aunty Jasmine this,aunty Jasmine that…’ ,the spoilt brats wouldn’t let her rest.She was the house help after all!..mama was a single mother that had a son to fend for. She was a father and mother at the same time to me. She was my hero, my very inspiration and i dreamt of taking her out of poverty someday after university. What a long wait it would have to be as i was only in primary three at the time. It was so low to watch her go through all that just to put food on the table. She believed so much in my future and was willing to give anything to help me get to the highest pedestal in life. She always told me that no son of hers would lack education. She was sworn to giving me at all cost what her parents failed to give her- sound education. On one such nights,the boss’ kids had gone to sleep and i was left alone in the parlour ,drooping at the flickering television screen. In he kitchen towards the left wing of the three bedroom Nigeria army officers’ flate ,mum dragged on her spent body frantically, to finish up the litany of house chores. These ranged from entertaining the carping of the spoilt brats in the shape of the boss’ kids before they went to bed,cooking and micro waving food, to washing a pile of dirty plates that always found a way to duplicate themselves. Often she would forget her own predicament and call out softly to me ” nnaa(meaning ‘my son’ in Igbo language), don’t worry,we will go home soon”. The softness and compassion in that voice seemed to neutralize the innocent anger that triggered each time i staggered and woke up abruptly in the middle of a dream. I was doing some unconventional sleeping while I waited. Well, ‘soon’ stretched into an eternity and eventually the television was turned off so I could wait outside for her. Why did I have to wait outside? Perhaps she didn’t want me to sleep off before she was done or perhaps it would be asking too much of her employers to have me sleep in the parlour until she finished her work in the kitchen. I thought it was just a way some mean rich folks so disdain the poor people who work for them .Poor mama,she didn’t want her son being blamed for any missing item in the house,no she didn’t!I was out there in the garage with a sleepy ambience and more intermittent compassionate calls that promised she was coming soon.
Suddenly!..i found myself right in the middle of no where.Did i appear in this place?..Was i sleep walking?..”it was all too sudden!”..I thought… A few seconds ago i had found solace in one of the hollow iron pillars,about the size of the average human wrist in diameter. They were more than seven of them that ran vertically,from the bottom to the top of the garage.They were standing on a rectangular pavement on both sides of the garage and I wrapped around those pillars, my tired arms like the tendril of a young plant. All i needed was a grip, firm enough to hold me into any posture that could tolerate sleep.
I still do not decipher what exactly happened that night,nor can i remember accurately the order in which the events episoded.I faintly remember running and screaming in terrible fear some minutes into mid night or suddenly appearing in this place. I thought i had run westward of the house to the tee junction that linked another tee junction that ran to the main road. I was right in the middle of the road that ran eastwards of the first tee junction. It was fenced on both sides by shrubs and a rich blend of a colony of spear grass.They cast scary swaying shadows on the lonely tarred road with the incident illumination from the street lights, cavorting to the symphonic conduction of the wind.In their wavy sound,i could hear the celo,the violin,the oboe,the harp,the flute and what else you need in a state of the arts orchestra performance. To booth,the crickets lent their sonorous tenor,chirping ever so gracefully,while the wind itself whistled the soprano. The frogs shuffled the double bass with the wind,doubling as base singers too themselves. The vocal harmony was seamlessly beautiful and exuded such safety that it seemed to strip the night of its ‘mare’ .Or make it more creepy because all that sweet music was asphyxiated by the thick darkness of the dead night. Its quite precariously subtle to have such an oxymoronic blend of horror and nature’s most breathtaking symphonic serenity don’t you think?. I couldn’t put that together myself then or even now. I was either in too much in shock or more concerned with the pressing need to escape danger. It felt like someone had jolted my body with high volts of electricity. Everything was happening too fast at the same time in such a frantic manner. Its just like you can’t tell a story,when you are the story. I was the story,I was the victim and it was damn real. Instincts would say i didn’t frantically dash this far into the middle of the cold night just to appreciate nature though. Caught between the dilemma of subconsciousness of quasi sleep and the awesomeness of real danger,i tried to make my way through the murky woods of this nightmare i must have been having,or so I. I didn’t have time to think. Adrenaline shot to an all time high.
Panting ever so heavily out of fear of the unknown and the aerobic exhaustion of the race,I kept running,not considering stopping as an option. I was just anticipating which direction to run. By now,I had almost done 500 meters worth of distance in such quick time. The rhetoric “Where are my?” Kept boomeranging at me in pitch sinister silence.It felt like i was in the middle of nowhere. Was i touched by anyone or just traumatized from the inconducive sleep I was having?..It visibly felt like I was watching a horror movie. This time though it had a strange mix of being in the movie and watching it at the same time. I could touch the horror!.It was so real.
You know,when you have a nightmare and you wake up paspirating heavily and feeling thankful that it was all a dream?..well.. I was having this nightmare too,but i woke up right in the middle of it and right in the middle of the road. This nightmare seemed to have trespassed into the earth realm with me. There was no salvation of waking up on my bed this time.It felt like i was being chased by some invisible pack of blood thirsty vampires or wild dogs within only inches of reaching and tearing me into shreds.There was a thick fog of evil in the air and every fibre of my being could feel it. My head seemed to swell to three times its original size and every hair on my body was on a standing ovasion.I could almost pee in my pants as cold shivers ran down my spine. I felt trapped between reality and the spirit realm. Or perhaps i was being summoned metaphysically and my body was responding to it. It was a deep mystery i still haven’t managed to unravel over the years.In my subconsiousness i knew i was being chased by some being but i couldn’t see anything or anyone.
My poor mother ran after me,she was by no means ready to lose her only child. She shouted my name with a mixed tone bleeding of self pity and an anger of a lioness rubbed of her cub. It was as though the resolute colour of her voice seemed to scare whatever was chasing me,enough to see them off.She caught up with me, just before i could negotiate the next tee junction,grabbed me eventually and carried me back to the bosses’ house. Very heavy sobs shaking her body as passionate tears dripped down her cheeks,when she held me in desperation.
she could hardly speak clearly.’nnaa wh–a–t ha–ppened?” ..”i am here now,don’t be afraid”..it was as though she felt guilty for letting me go through such sleep torment.To add to it all,The fear of losing me was unthinkable to her. I felt very sorry for myself and mama. I imagined how difficult it must have all been for her,these past years.She was done with work that night,o yes she was certainly done!..to hell with the devil!..For that night,she wouldn’t touch anything else in that house not even at the expense of her job. She chose me over that job.When we got home a few blocks away,she cried out her eyes. I would say to her ‘nda(meaning aunty in Igbo language) stop crying’..and she would say softly .. ‘am not crying’..even while forcible tears spurted down her cheeks.She would wipe the tears off her grimmy face as piercing pity for me glowed from her eyes. Mama was a very strong woman and few things,very few things made her cry. I knew the fear of losing me was part of those very few things and the memory of the penury we had been living in all these while was another.I could hear her thoughts aloud as she tried to stifle the deep sobs that almost made her vibrate and the tears that were trickling down her cheeks. She would sigh intermittently in exasperation…”what else would have made me take this dehumanizing job that does not allow me to take care of my only son if not penury?” ..her lips scarcely moved but these thoughts were cogently etched on her expressions.She held me to her bossom again and apologised over and again.we were both in tears.I was scarsely six years old at the time.I don’t remember if she slept after all that night. That was more than twenty years ago now,but I could never forget such an indelible flash of horror.
From the little i know,oxymoron is trying to place side by side,two parallel items that are opposite extremes of one another.e.g ‘the innocent thief’ or the ‘beggarly billionaire’.. Please sing this song with me ..”I surrender some..I surrender some.. Unto thee my blessed saviour ..I surrender some” Is it strange?.. You would prefer the normal..’I surrender all…’ Right?..but why sing ‘all’ with your lips while your heart sings ‘some?’..I will tell you what you have been doing;..you have been going to the bathroom with your clothes on,yet you say you are having a bath,how could anyone ever take a thorough bath with some of or all their clothes on? Brother you were taking three bottles of that alcoholic beverage, because you ‘repented’ you reduced it to just one and half bottles a day. Sister you used to put on very corrosive and magnetic ‘macro’ mini skirt, now because you ‘ repented’, when you sit down,even in church, you cover the uncovered parts of your leg with that poor innocent ‘handkerchief’ so that some brothers won’t end up watching the uefa champions league match therein. Chaiii!. why not just sow the handkerchief to the skirt so that you won’t have to use your hand to hold it all the time?..and you have ‘repented?’ Nawa o!..see,those of you who your pastors’ wives dress like pornstars to the alter and you are still there sitting down and listening to the ‘word’ of God chaiii..its well with you o..please take the nearest flight and ‘flee’ for your soul o!..our female gospel musicians are supposedly singing us into the ‘presence’ of God and yet we are seeing all the ‘camp nou and banabao stadium effects’ ..please when we want to watch uefa champions league we will watch at home or go to a public viewing centre!!… Edakun..stop confusing us!! How can you be a ‘Christian harlot’ or a ‘Christian drunkard’ or a ‘ Christian smoker’?..its only in the christiandom that we practice impossible oxymoron!!!
The pale face of the sky,the piercing dash of the chilly breeze and the frisoon hanging aloft my thoughts all seemed to stamp the inevitable reality of sunset and the way the day had behaved with me.
I was about an important errand From the director of the conservatory of Music, it was about the enquiry of the cost of running the videos of our recent musical concert on air
Tasking,was this errand but delightful only for my soft spot for adventure and potential transport fare residues,if any. I plodded many in between vehicular distances, with the flamboyant dust of the whitish beach sand of the Victoria island,Lekki, clothing my old begging-to-be-replaced shoes.
You didn’t really want to take a look at the sole of those shoes,they had been worn
out to a point of having conspicuous holes; the side effect of long trekking
I couldn’t fault the sarcastic blend of fatigue and thirst,the duo were Digging out at my very lungs and heart with hardly any ting of compassion
How do you mix joy and pain? It was a subtle sight,perhaps too precarious to venture,but it was expedient.
A cross over to the other side of traffic and there it was,standing right in front of me;it was the silver bird group building at 133,Ahamadu bello way,Victoria island, a giant trunk of blocks and cement with a very stunning architectural sense of humour.
I only saw it on TV.. Perhaps I had happened upon it sometime ago.. Yes!..I recall!..how else could my residual knowledge of its almost exact location had been formed? But what exact time then,the pain to remember,I could not compliment my condition with
At a snap i decided the time wasn’t really important ,I had more pressing activity upon me;I made final dress rehearsals of what to say and how to say it. With all civility, I approached the guards at the gate for check in .
The male guard seemed in a light mood and conducted only an official search,all the while wearing a business grin…’you may go in’..he said after his routine.
‘I need to speak with someone from the television section’…I said with my best phonetic tones;i understand that in a place like this,people weigh one usually by the way they are dressed and their speech comportment,the others would be only secondary,and boy!..I was determined to impress!
‘Its right that way’..he and the female guard with him shared the response between them,motioning to the direction of their description. ‘Thank you!’..I retorted,walking on with shoulders high and carrying my importance with such carefulness as though it could break with any little act of naivity.
I approached another guard in another hue of uniform and asked the same question; right up the stairs I went as he motioned me. A young man having his lunch and bantering away with an older colleague, with some soft soul music background coming from the radio section,I could see them through their transparent glass wall,this was the ambience.
I showed my courtesy and waited as they made to call someone to attend to me. Soon an averagely huge man with a fairly pot belly showed up,he was quite informal in attire and disposition so i wasn’t sure he was the one I had been waiting for.
I asked with a phlegm of doubt in my throat that I needed to clear, especially for time constraint..’is this the person you said would attend to me?’..’o yes he is’..the two men chorused,almost sandwiching the response between them in the most modest way money could buy,which suggested he was higher up the food chain in that place of work.
A couple of minutes later,I left the place,mission accomplished!; ‘that was easy right?’ I mumbled.
I walked passed the two guards at the final exit and waved goodbye with a more relaxed inner disposition. I made for Lekki phase one, covered one more station and prepared my mind for home.
I handed the two notes with me,a fifty naira note and a hundred naira note to the bus conductor enroute yaba,took a copious gulp of air and began to ruminate on how the day began.
They say that age is a thing of the mind and from my little experience,when you find the love that lasts,its usually one of a kind.
Sometimes the future is bleak and the present bright, and at other times both switch places.
Often times i wonder whatever it is that keeps us going against the worst odds;is it faith,passion, hope or plain stupidity? The holy scriptures tell us..’man that is born of a woman is of few days and full of trouble’.. Fortunately, most of us live out half our days,but I have seen some that lived just a few,though you could say they lived longer than still births.
The still births are not the least on this fate list, no!..of a certainty, not!..look again!. How about those that were never conceived at all?..its just like this; “For every pair of feet without a pair of shoes there is always a pair of legs without a pair of feet”.
When we were boys say in our fives,sixes or sevens..hahaha..those days,we pranced here and there, as far as our bones could understand..though often we didn’t even care anyway. They seldom didn’t say we were restless,but it was our time,it was our blood!
The twists,the turns,the house chores,the litany of sermons on morality by just anyone who was older,the many troubles we often meddled into and of course, the spankings that rewarded our behinds, cheeks and backs,er’ be it ever so handsomely,how could we ever forget?
O you should have been there When we were boys! …Our muscles were very tender,perhaps too tender; but we were growing!..o yes we were!
If you do not remember when we told folk tales beneath the canopy of the moon, In a Bugatti driven through the eternity of asphalt that spanned the vast plains of our fertile simple minds, at utopic speeds by the cool night breeze,to eldorados of scary tangibility, then you were not there when we were boys..no!.. you were not there!
When we were boys, say in our tens,elevens,twelves or even thirteens, we had outgrown trading and building empires with sand. Do you remember those sandy walls and cubicles with green cocoyam leaves for roof?..O lest I forget, the scent of roasted yam during harmattan?.. Or how we used to gather round the fire place during the rainy season to bury local pear under the hot ash while our grannies fried garri in our obiris?..if you do remember..no!..how could you ever remember? You were not there when we were boys!..you were not there!
By now we were done chasing grasshoppers,we had started to hunt grass cutters. Some of us failed to grow up though,they were still dragging pieces of meat with their little sisters. We ostracised them!..our fathers say they could hardly make good husbands
But how would you know why we ostracised them?..you wouldn’t really understand!;its a ‘boyly’ thing..
When we were boys,say in our fourteens, fifteens or sixteens or even seventeens,some of us had eloped to the city;without any goodbyes to our childhood friends. Friends with whom we ate,played in the rain naked,fought and served punishments in school and at home.
O we thought we would come back soon, but how quickly we forgot the village when we got to the city.
We wanted to dress,eat and speak like city folks,o their accent! We seldom came back to visit those rabbit holes,those grass cutter tracks;now we play video games and watch telemundo. worst of all,we forgot our mother tongue!
We ditched ijapa and yanibo for tom and jerry,hmmm..we have even replaced tales by moon light with Nickelodeon…
Now we are men,some of us are married ,others are still searching. Some are fathers,some died,some turned out good,others turned out bad.
Most of us moved on,others will never! but how could we ever forget so quickly?.. those days when we…
Those days when we chased mama chinedu’s chicken all day;though now we chase money Those days when we waited patiently for the rabbit to walk into our traps;though now we wait a whole thirty days or so, for an animal called ‘alert’ to walk into our bank accounts. Those days when we were caught by the Spinny fruits of weeds and shrubs while safari-happy for grasshoppers; Though now we are caught in the traffic of third mainland bridge.
Those days…how could we ever ever forget.. Those days when we were boys?
Oyinkansola Akinserule on the redefining of music and bridging the gap between church administratives and their musicians in our Nigeria By uchenna John gentle.
Oyinkansola Akinselure is currently the Director of the Mountain Top Conservatory of Music, the first of its kind in all of West Africa. She was formerly the Director at Refunda Music for 25 years in Iwaya,Yaba-one of the commercial conglomerates of Lagos. Her profile speaks for itself, she is a thoroughly trained musicologist and a Nigerian from the yoruba tribe who has carved a niche for herself in the world of music education. Her career being a most comprehensive compendium of on stage performance and music education in and outside the church,whose stellar exploits, spanning more than a spanking three decades have amassed very prestigious accolades. The Oddessey to a professional music career took flight from her university days. First obtaining her B.A. Hons(music); and later M.Ed Educational Administration and Planning,Music and Educational Administration in the prestigious University of Lagos between 1985 and 1989.During her studentship at the University of Lagos,she was part of the then fammed Laz Ekueme Chorale. Professor Laz Ekueme,a Yale University trained talent himself and the brother of the former Vice President of Nigeria- late Alex Ekueme,being the director of the national choir also for many years was one of the classical music authorities she worked with at that contemporary time. Pursuing a musical career came at a high price and there were loads of obstacles to overcome. A huge part of this obstacles were dressed in the shape of a general,though very parochial belief by the contemporary lay society of that time that musicians were lazy folks who lead beggerly lives. It wasn’t difficult to see why in fact. Their work was always considered a thing of leisure and not really a means of livelihood. With a sarcastic sense of humour and a ting of primitivity that would leave one mouth agape nowadays,the lay people of that time didn’t quite see why the art of music should ever receive formal financial rewards,enough to make a comfortable living for the artistes. There was hardly any formal obligation to pay musicians a fixed amount of renumeration. It was determined by the discretion and benevolence of those who felt entertained or were moved to give.It was purely out of volition. A couple of names fammed among the lay people then hardly depended solely on music to feed themselves as a result. They almost always had a back up,running one business or the other to support themselves. They were practically running the music almost solely on the fuel of passion. Besides,some bands would even crash due to lack funds to keep them running. The music profession was hardly not lightly esteemed and in no little degree so to speak.Those days it was a thing of pride to know that one’s child was studying either Medicine, Engineering or Law. These three professions especially, commanded much respect in society and almost every parent was on either of those three very long queues, trying to chivvy their children into studying those professions irrespective of the child’s academic abilities or interests. You wouldn’t be lucky enough to find even two out of any ten Nigerian parents that would encourage their children to study music. The very very few that did were actually very wealthy families who were not really expecting financial rewards or encouraged their children to practice their music in the government house,among the creams of society or outside the shores of the country where professional music was valued enough to be paid for. If you played in the lay society of that time,you could only get formally paid if you played for the cream of society. But this too had its own downside. Just as it is said ‘he who pays the piper dictates the tune’…most of these cream of society who were either politicians,business tycoons or men who have amassed clout with cash often leave the musicians in the dilemma of choosing between their intergrity and their bread.They took away the artistic carteblanche of the musicians and bound them under the servitude of their own wishes. However, all these ill fate that plagued the profession did very little to disuade her spirit.Oyinkansola was very resolute in a way that hardly went unnoticeable. She was such a stunning brilliant young lady with a captivating passion for her course of study and an unbreakable will to toll the path of destiny. At last,the flawless blend of passion ,talent and hard work never produced anything short of expectation,she finished from the university of Lagos in flying colours and quickly obtained her second degree there.
While running her first degree,she did operatic performances and the renumeration from these performances was more than supportive, she in fact experienced such financial freedom that was only common with young ladies from wealthy families. But the discipline of her course of study seemed to rub off on her spending habit and she saved most of her earnings. Naturally, she invested part of it into purchasing a couple of musical instruments. With this same undiluted passion, she ran Refunda Music for 25 painstaking years. What a visionary goal getter,per excellence she is!..It must be said.
Being a key player in the business of music and music education sphere around her, she was specially requested and quite recently dutied for the world Guinness book of records. Being an umpire for the largest choir from a single congregation feat,which saw the pastor Chris Oyakhilome founded Christ Embassy Church crowned champions,having pulled out a staggering twelve thousand man choir for the record event. Her story is both one that inspires and intrigues. It was foolhardy studying music at the time she dared to venture and it seemed all the odds were against her.But she seemed to anticipate every one of those odds with a sold out resolve to conquer. Mediocrity was never to be found trespassing in her dictionary. Looking back now,she would surely be elated with the choice she made as she owes her fulfilment in life today to it. She is happily married to Pastor J.E.B Akinselure and the union is blessed with wonderful children, both biological and spiritual. ‘Mummy’ as most of us call her is a wonderful person to be around. She is a philanthropist and a mother with a heart of gold. Every child is hers. She carries this down-to-earth disposition clothed in mesmerizing humility and warmth that almost anyone could come close.This helped my interview with her a great deal.She has taken her faith with utmost priority since she gave her life to the Lord Jesus Christ in 1995. It was through a music ministration on a Monday evening bible study as she passed by the Mountain of Fire and Miracles Ministries international headquarters ,Onike-Iwaya,Yaba,Lagos,near the University of Lagos(Unilag). Since this divine encounter,She has been an invaluable asset,contributing immensely to the musical growth of the church worldwide.The year 2018 marks her 23rd year in the ministry,having trained no small army of music maestros, most of whom have bagged international awards. Mummy was the chair person of the recently concluded Mountain Top Mega Concert-a collosal musical concert with an initiative of rebranding the gospel music ministers in the ministry and selling them and their message to the world.
Improving the life of the youth has been her major driving force and without any sentiment,its noteworthy that she has impacted no little army of youths.The interview took place in her office at the Mountain Top Conservatory of Music,53 Majaro Street,Onike-Iwaya,Yaba,Lagos, Nigeria.Now in her mid fiftys mummy has never lost her youthful vigor and charm. She is still beautiful and has an incredible British accent and clarity that when she speaks,the words sound very crunchy as soon as she forms them.The interview started on the 27th of January 2018 and lasted a couple of days as it depended on the availability of the guest and what spare time she had. Most times,we talked while she worked or everbeit i was privileged to help with some little clerical duties around her very busy table.
Uchenna:Your speech on redefining the standards of music and music education in Nigeria at the simultaneous opening of the Mountain Top Conservatory Choir and Philharmonic Orchestra and the Mountain Top Conservatory of Music yesterday was very eye catching,heart warming and exuding of such oratory prowess of the sleekest standards.You spoke quite at length with so much charisma that we felt every letter as though they were steamed out from the passionate tsunami that brewed right in the depths of your soul. The standard of music and music education must have been considerably of stellar standards in your days compared to what obtains in our own contemporary times where electronic beats have made junk music very famous.In our contemporary Nigeria,almost anyone who can string two lyrics together into a beat and has some charisma and the ‘bling’ or ‘swag’ to go along with it,gets to top the charts.Most of these ‘super stars’ as it were cannot even read music or play any musical instrument. They just ‘bounce’ on the beat as it were and they are getting all the shows.What could have led us to this dismal trend and how could we ever possibly negotiate our way back to the statusquo?
Oyinkansola:Its quite a pity that our contemporary society over here is satisfied with ‘junk’ music as it were.what could I be referring to as junk music?..its that kind of music whose lyrics are inspired by delinquent outbursts and rascally idleness of the mind sometimes induced by hard drugs and alcohol.How could a young man in his right minds be singing ‘ori e o foka sibe”(Your head break into pieces), “omo wahala dey”(there is trouble)or ‘chop banana till you go yo’..(meaning,’eat banana until you are satisfied’) are we monkeys? And to think this was blabbed for a whole 16 bars of music?..its a height of the mediocrity we have absorbed into our skin as a nation! This is just one out of an inexhaustible litany of instances, but the so called music industry here is patronizing this mediocrity,forcing it down our throats.You hear these songs in public places,radio and television stations, we are practically chivvied to not only sing these tachy lyrics,most of them exuding of sexual innuendos and hokums in no little degree, but also to remember them.They make us hear it over and again until we have the lyrics ringing in our heads.The standard of music in this nation began to nose dive from more than two decades ago now.its part of the symptoms of pliable governance, where you put square pegs in round holes and expect them to function?..how?..that would be tantamount to magic!..We celebrate mediocrity,that’s why the real musicians seem to have somewhat gone extinct.
In the times of king sunny Ade and Ebenezer obe and the sunny okosuns of this world,you hear good music,with decent lyrics that sort to beam the indispensability of morality to national growth,encourage unity among the populace and take a firm stand against bad governance and other societal ills.These people could read music, they were the real musicians!..but could you really blame most of these misguided youth we call superstars today?..may we also not blame those record label owners and those media houses that served the ears of the populace with this cheap ‘poison’ they call hit songs until they became addicted to it?..after starting the fire,they justify their further fueling of it with the sarcastic phrase..” We want to produce the kind of ‘music’ that the ‘people’ want to hear”
On the brighter side of things however,The general overseer of the Mountain of Fire and Miracles Ministries Worldwide Dr Dk Olukoya,being a thorough musician himself and with an indefatigable passion for the youth has come out to affect the current trend towards the direction of redemption by establishing the Mountain Top Conservatory of Music,the first of its kind in west Africa.Its a state of the arts music school of the finest academic standards with the goal of breeding God fearing and world best musicians.Its doors are open to all who can imbibe moderate character. Generally there needs to be a redefining of the standards of music here in our Nation. We are calling on stake holders;record label owners, media house companies,music educationists and marketers to have a round table discourse about the future of our music. If we feed the ears and minds of the populace with real music done by real musicians then this ‘the kind of music that the people want to hear’ nonsense will be long gone. Though you don’t expect the junk music and mediocrity the people have listened to for long to just disappear,they will have to be phased out gradually ,but the sooner we begin,the better it will be for us. This,I think without any reservation is the step back to statusquo.
Uchenna:Its really interesting and comforting that you are in your own capacity making decisions to influence whatever possible positive change we could hope to achieve in the shortest time. You were the chairman of the planning committee of the Mountain Top Mega Concert held on February the 18th this year,a concert aimed at rebranding the musical talents of the Mfm and selling them to the world.You have been a driving force for music in the ministry,mentoring and teaching not a few music maestros in and outside the church who have bagged international awards.For instance Omo Bello and the Lara George,etc were once your students.If we begin to ‘repent’ so to speak,as a nation and if all hands come on deck,how long do you fancy our music being rescued from mediocrity back into the hands of real musicians?
Oyinkansola:Well like i stated earlier,the voyage back to statusquo will be a gradual process. A painful,slow trio process of unlearning, relearning and learning. You know, even in most of our churches, half backed individuals run the music and a lot of stake holders even in the music education sphere are not pulling their weight. Lets be realistic John Gentle, not everyone will be willing to risk the change. Paychecks and careers are on the line here.How do you convince the marketers to market a song they don’t believe will sell because its not ‘ the song that people want to hear’?..often times the artistes themselves are forced to do what sells,irrespective of their unique giftings and styles of music,all under the guise of ‘versatility’. It could take us some time to convince the stakeholders and perhaps a little more time to convince the populace. Maybe a decade,maybe two or more, but the people through which the music distills to the public are the bulk of the work.If we have them on our side, the rest is as easy saying Jack Robinson’ .The time for change is now!!!
Uchenna:You spoke of mediocrity in most of our growing denominations,especially at the branch level.Now, I have heard some pastors say that most professional instrumentalists are just out for the money and not really willing to serve God with their talents.From research and personal experience,these types of pastors feel its too generous paying for the services of these class of musicians,so some of them settle for mediocrity and most of the poor audience caught up in these dilemmas seem to weigh church music in general in relation to high quality secular music under the light of these ‘few’ mediocres. These breed of clergy men wear a rather iconoclastic perspective that all instrumentalists are businessmen lacking piety in no little degree.
Recently i read a post on facebook where a professional instrumentalist friend of mine was complaining bitterly about some pastors accusing their instrumentalists of carnality just because they demand their wages for their work. The heated struggle continues as the scandalous tales of church musicians and their administrative heads scarcely ever resolve. Where have we gone wrong with our church musicians?
Oyinkansola:This wrestle between church musicians and their administrative heads is almost as old as time itself. It takes on different hues in our different societies.’ Blessed and cursed’- a 2008 Dietrick Haddon movie did justice to most of the friction between church musicians and their administrative heads.
It is in my understanding with my quite substantial years of practice in the system that most clergies who are not musically inclined do not even understand to the most petit degree, the challenge of the average church musician let alone make any input towards assuaging these plights.I am not taking any side of the bickering divide now,I also know that there are quite a number of unscrupulous church musicians who could be very high handed but with my wealth of experience,I see that the lion share reasons for these frictions flow from the direction of the church administrators themselves and the inconducive systems they weave out for church music.Only musically inclined people can run music effectively.
The clergy men and women must have a round table discourse with their musicians and do their best to rescue the music in church out of the hands of mediocres. Working without resentment with their musicians and giving them all necessary respect,support and care should help assuage these notorious frictions.
Uchenna;On the home front we hear that the mountain of fire and miracles ministries has been making no little effort in redefining the music in the country,in and outside the church.We see the establishment of the Mountain Top Conservatory of Music,the many choirs that the church musters during her international programs, most prominent of which would be the once in a month program, called Power Must Change hands and the most recent of all-the Mountain Top Mega Concert held at the prestigious Eko hotel and Towers . Now,followers of the Mountain of Fire and friends of Dr DK Olukoya would understand that the man is an acute musician himself and not just a lover of music.I even heard he plays a couple of musical instruments apart from the organ.I also know from a little history that he used to be a choir master at The Christ Apostolic Church, before he received the divine mandate to start the Mountain of Fire.
I was a beneficiary myself,of the Contemporary Solo Competition that took place in the Conservatory around June 2017,where Professor Lorian Stein-Schwaber,a vocal coach of regal breed and product of Carthage University flew in from Illinois, Chicago for a vocal master class,all expenses paid by Dr.D.K Olukoya,the general overseer of the church.
I saw many people come take the vocal classes which spanned a week and a couple of days. The doors were opened to as many as were interested,even non members of the church.I emerged winner for the Intermediate category with a substantial cash prize.There was another one held towards the end of last year.Now these are indeed very giant strides taken towards rebranding music.I suppose there are quite a number of other initiatives geared at empowering church musicians and generally charting a standard course for music through this ministry,what has been the exact statistics?
Oyinkansola:To begin with,as the General Overseer himself often says and I absolutely concur..’the Mountain of Fire and Miracles Ministries has gone to a level in music that it will take some other denominations nothing short of fifty years to catch up’..without the slightest atom of sentiment, the facts and figures speak for themselves, and that in very enormous volumes. The statistics that you speak of is cogently etched on the slabs of time. From the Associated Board of Royal Schools of Music(ABRSM),London exams which the music personnels of the church take annually,to the many choirs and world class musicians which the church churns out per time,its every where! The church boasts of an almost five hundred man guitar choir,here at the International Headquarters Alone, not to speak of its other members across the country, a Saxophone choir,Gospel choir,Senior choir,Boys’ choir,Italian choir,Asaph choir,Charioteers,Male choir,Youth choir,Keyboard choir,Philharmonic orchestra,various Acapella groups,the Mountain Top Chorale,various praise and worship groups and various Orchestra groups, most prominent of which would be the D.K.O Orchestra,a direct initiative of the General Overseer himself.The list is almost inexhaustible. We have produced world class musicians in the likes of Omo Bello.The Mountain Top University,a world class university built by the church has a music section and facilities hard to find in other parts of Africa and a unique structural design you won’t find anywhere else in the world.The standards are very high here and excellence is the least we plan to achieve.The contemporary solo competition you mentioned,regular master classes and music workshops for our musicians and scholarship grants to go study music abroad are just a few of the lot.Quality, painstaking efforts are being made to improve on our music per time,we are not sleeping at all. As we speak three of our promising talents are schooling in Canada, The UK and the United states of America respectively.we have a flutist and two voice majors in them.The Mountain Top record label, a multi million naira worth music production company was launched by the General Overseer,Dr D.K Olukoya to promote good music and come to the rescue of talented musicians who lack the financial muscle to produce their music in the regular studios outside. In addition,the general overseer buys these multi million naira worth of musical instruments for the instrument based choirs and its doors are open to even non members who wish to learn any instrument of their choice.I see no reason why with a little support from other stakeholders and the government, we cannot rescue our music from mediocrity and return to the good old tunes of the ancient times.We in the Mountain of Fire here are warming up for a musical revival. Music is an indispensable tool to reach the whole of humanity for Christ our Lord and bridge the chasm between real societal ideals and the strange rapid decline of morality as we have it now,especially among the young people.
Uchenna:I understand that the very demanding nature of your job does not spoil you for choice with so much spare time at work to grant long interviews of this nature,but i rever your simplicity of heart and motherly disposition,even though you are such an academia.
This infact encouraged me to dare to ask a lion share of your very precious time. Also your high regard for the young people and what wonderful potentials they carry,i know is one of the component fuels that has kept this rather tedious conversation burning thus far.Just one more and we can call it a day.I and am sure the world out there also would like to understand what the newly inaugurated Choir and Philharmonic Orchestra all about.is it another professional outfit like the Mountain Top Chorale that beat the world a couple of years ago to lift the Choir World Cup in Russia?
Oyinkansola;The Mountain Top Conservatory Choir and Philharmonic Orchestra is a professional setup ,an initiative of the General Overseer of the Mountain of Fire. Its the first of its kind in the ministry,consisting of a full orchestra and a full chior consisting of about 200 members in all.
These are professional musicians, some of them are not even members of the church.The initiative is just to raise a professional setup not a church outfit .A professional setup that would dish out top notch music every time.Its a way of empowering the musicians in and outside the church most of whom are youths and encouraging professionalism in the craft of music.There are quite juicy allowances for the musicians and hard work to booth.As you see,the Mountain of Fire is a major force taking giant strides in the revival of real music in and outside the church in our country and the world at large.I will end with this,the Psalmist Anointing competition being recently put together in the Mountain of Fire, is aimed at encouraging its musicians to compose their own songs,this is another step towards the light.In the times of Mozart and Beethoven, a lot was done in composing and even up till date,we still use their works. This generation of musicians are not very productive in terms of composition, no wonder ‘junk’ music is thriving so much. Where is originality?.. Where is professionalism?.. Some music producers and so called superstars cannot even read music. I say it’s time we go back to the status quo, its time to revive the tunes of the ancient times and restore the high prestige of our music that has suffered terribly in the cold hands of mediocrity.
Uchenna;How I appreciate your invaluable time and the thoroughness with which you dissected these very pertinent issues of discourse.I am certain the world out there will be better informed as to what is happening in our nation musically and the efforts being made by at least those who care enough like the Mountain of Fire to ameliorate the situation.
Oyinkansola;You are most welcome John, the pleasure is mine,let’s look forward to greater things.It should only get better at this rate,we can’t tolerate any more lapses and I trust that budding young musicians like yourself will put in their quota to make this restoration work more spontaneous.
Uchenna John Gentle is a B.Ed Biology graduate from the fammed University of Nigeria,Nsukka,Ikere,Chapter,Ekiti State,Nigeria. He is a budding gospel musician with a passion for writing.He is a holder of the prestigious participants’ certificate of IPOFEST-Ibadan Poetry Festival 2014.His writing flare began to gather momentum from early secondary school days and he scored really high in his English Language exams and drew no little attention to his teachers and fellow unnoticeable with his sleek approach to essay and letter writing.
We have seen a vast breed of political animals, some wild ,some semi wild and others subtle,soft but lethal!
We have seen many pot bellied barrels in white agbadas bantering away duty hours over cellular,on the nation’s airtime;if its not about another Hocus-Pocus to swindle the electorate, then its about how to plug their lie dispenser-a caricature excuse for a mouth, into the pliable nipples of our green white skinned mother’s exposed breast to suck to drought, our republic milk.
We have hardly seen a flat bellied fellow who fellowshiped with them and remained himself
After brewing lies,they get us drunk with what they have brewed, and many naive ones staggered to the ballot,caught in a dilemma stupor of quasi promises and frustrations of former heartbreaks.
This is how we have thumb printed away our future. what a tale of ignominy!
We have witnessed the serial unpunished rape of justice on many republic sofas,beds and even mats, and the hoarding of many resources, The most many of us have done is turn up our noses. Our civil bus is fueled by these powerful ‘few’ and any passenger who coughs is shown his bus top to deter any future raising of eye brows
Leaders we called them, when in their cocoon,we gave them suck and weaned them upon our republic breasts, but how scarcely slowly, they metamorphosed into power dealers!
They have grown obese on our national broth and often pick their teeth of residue strands of meat, from the excesses of their political spoils,with the destinies of our young bloods.Yes!..that’s their tooth pick! while their children are safely tucked away in the comfort of over seas ivory towers,book worming to perpetuate the ignominious legacy of their parents …we will not let it happen ever again!..infact,where is my PVC?..
…That’s our only chance!..the PVC..its our only chance!..its the only way we can prevent these eggs from becoming boiled eggs,its the only way to deny them the hot water of power,hot water makes bad eggs become boiled eggs and boiled eggs are too hot to touch.
When there is a vendetta between two ballot elephants, who ends up in the cadre of ‘grass?’..our young bloods!
With juicy speeches and succulent manifestos ,standing on podiums very lofty,with play-to-the-gallery political jingles and an array of belial fellows for ambience,and outstrectched hands drenched in the blood of unpaid pensions,they bellow to the zenith pitch of their adulterous voices in advanced molecular deceit..’my people,I will give you light,support me with your pvc,i will give your children free education. “..ashi.ashi,otu a wu eshi”( ‘they are all lies,there is no truth at all’- in igbo language)..
…they artfully shove these diplomatic lies down our throats and to think they can afford to keep us naive forever!..what sarcastic impetus!..I wonder why thunder still shealths its sword at the site of these republic tumours?
How long shall we stand men in black turn armed beggers at every check point?..yet they say bail is free and that they are our friend.. How?
How could I blame these uniform men?..they secure your lives,are their lives secure? Their badges have worn out from baking in the sun all day and their ‘honesty’ can’t put food on the table,pay utility and school fees.
You give them toys,you water down their morale,yet you want them to stand up to the armed-to- the-teeth gentle men on the high way..how?..’tan fe ku?'(‘who wants to die?’..in Yoruba language)
Truely we have seen a vast array of political animals,some cockroaches, others scorpions and yet they are all boiled eggs right out of boiling water
How long will we stomach these republic boiled eggs ?..they are brittle just as every man but you can’t touch them because they are hot? They get into power and soak themselves drunk..too drunk to be brought to book..we voted leaders,we got boiled eggs!!!
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