Tuesday, 29 September 2026

THE GREATEST UN SPEECH

Twenty-seven years ago, as Emperor of Ethiopia, I mounted the rostrum in Geneva, Switzerland, to address the League of Nations and to appeal for relief from the destruction which had been unleashed against my defenseless nation, by the Fascist invader. I spoke then both to and for the conscience of the world. My words went unheeded, but history testifies to the accuracy of the warning that I gave in 1936.

Today, I stand before the world organization which has succeeded to the mantle discarded by its discredited predecessor. In this body is enshrined the principle of collective security which I unsuccessfully invoked at Geneva. Here, in this Assembly, reposes the best - perhaps the last - hope for the peaceful survival of mankind.

In 1936, I declared that it was not the Covenant of the League that was at stake, but international morality. Undertakings, I said then, are of little worth if the will to keep them is lacking. The Charter of the United Nations expresses the noblest aspirations of man: abjuration of force in the settlement of disputes between states; the assurance of human rights and fundamental freedoms for all without distinction as to race, sex, language or religion; the safeguarding of international peace and security.

But these, too, as were the phrases of the Covenant, are only words; their value depends wholly on our will to observe and honor them and give them content and meaning. The preservation of peace and the guaranteeing of man's basic freedoms and rights require courage and eternal vigilance: courage to speak and act - and if necessary, to suffer and die - for truth and justice; eternal vigilance, that the least transgression of international morality shall not go undetected and unremedied. These lessons must be learned anew by each succeeding generation, and that generation is fortunate indeed which learns from other than its own bitter experience. This Organization and each of its members bear a crushing and awesome responsibility: to absorb the wisdom of history and to apply it to the problems of the present, in order that future generations may be born, and live, and die, in peace.

The record of the United Nations during the few short years of its life affords mankind a solid basis for encouragement and hope for the future. The United Nations has dared to act, when the League dared not in Palestine, in Korea, in Suez, in the Congo. There is not one among us today who does not conjecture upon the reaction of this body when motives and actions are called into question. The opinion of this Organization today acts as a powerful influence upon the decisions of its members. The spotlight of world opinion, focused by the United Nations upon the transgressions of the renegades of human society, has thus far proved an effective safeguard against unchecked aggression and unrestricted violation of human rights.

The United Nations continues to serve as the forum where nations whose interests clash may lay their cases before world opinion. It still provides the essential escape valve without which the slow build-up of pressures would have long since resulted in catastrophic explosion. Its actions and decisions have speeded the achievement of freedom by many peoples on the continents of Africa and Asia. Its efforts have contributed to the advancement of the standard of living of peoples in all corners of the world.

For this, all men must give thanks. As I stand here today, how faint, how remote are the memories of 1936. How different in 1963 are the attitudes of men. We then existed in an atmosphere of suffocating pessimism. Today, cautious yet buoyant optimism is the prevailing spirit.

But each one of us here knows that what has been accomplished is not enough. The United Nations judgments have been and continue to be subject to frustration, as individual member-states have ignored its pronouncements and disregarded its recommendations. The Organization's sinews have been weakened, as member-states have shirked their obligations to it. The authority of the Organization has been mocked, as individual member-states have proceeded, in violation of its commands, to pursue their own aims and ends. The troubles which continue to plague us virtually all arise among member states of the Organization, but the Organization remains impotent to enforce acceptable solutions. As the maker and enforcer of the international law, what the United Nations has achieved still falls regrettably short of our goal of an international community of nations.

This does not mean that the United Nations has failed. I have lived too long to cherish many illusions about the essential high mindedness of men when brought into stark confrontation with the issue of control over their security, and their property interests. Not even now, when so much is at hazard would many nations willingly entrust their destinies to other hands.

Yet, this is the ultimatum presented to us: secure the conditions whereby men will entrust their security to a larger entity, or risk annihilation; persuade men that their salvation rests in the subordination of national and local interests to the interests of humanity, or endanger man's future. These are the objectives, yesterday unobtainable, today essential, which we must labor to achieve.

Until this is accomplished, mankind's future remains hazardous and permanent peace a matter for speculation. There is no single magic formula, no one simple step, no words, whether written into the Organization's Charter or into a treaty between states, which can automatically guarantee to us what we seek. Peace is a day-to-day problem, the product of a multitude of events and judgements. Peace is not an "is", it is a "becoming." We cannot escape the dreadful possibility of catastrophe by miscalculation.

But we can reach the right decisions on the myriad subordinate problems which each new day poses, and we can thereby make our contribution and perhaps the most that can be reasonably expected of us in 1963 to the preservation of peace. It is here that the United Nations has served us - not perfectly, but well. And in enhancing the possibilities that the Organization may serve us better, we serve and bring closer our most cherished goals.

I would mention briefly today two particular issues which are of deep concern to all men: disarmament and the establishment of true equality among men. Disarmament has become the urgent imperative of our time. I do not say this because I equate the absence of arms to peace, or because I believe that bringing an end to the nuclear arms race automatically guarantees the peace, or because the elimination of nuclear warheads from the arsenals of the world will bring in its wake that change in attitude requisite to the peaceful settlement of disputes between nations. Disarmament is vital today, quite simply, because of the immense destructive capacity of which men dispose.

Ethiopia supports the atmospheric nuclear test ban treaty as a step towards this goal, even though only a partial step. Nations can still perfect weapons of mass destruction by underground testing. There is no guarantee against the sudden, unannounced resumption of testing in the atmosphere.

The real significance of the treaty is that it admits of a tacit stalemate between the nations which negotiated it, a stalemate which recognizes the blunt, unavoidable fact that none would emerge from the total destruction which would be the lot of all in a nuclear war, a stalemate which affords us and the United Nations a breathing space in which to act.

Here is our opportunity and our challenge. If the nuclear powers are prepared to declare a truce, let us seize the moment to strengthen the institutions and procedures which will serve as the means for the pacific settlement of disputes among men. Conflicts between nations will continue to arise. The real issue is whether they are to be resolved by force, or by resort to peaceful methods and procedures, administered by impartial institutions. This very Organization itself is the greatest such institution, and it is in a more powerful United Nations that we seek, and it is here that we shall find, the assurance of a peaceful future.

Were a real and effective disarmament achieved and the funds now spent in the arms race devoted to the amelioration of man's state; were we to concentrate only on the peaceful uses of nuclear knowledge, how vastly and in how short a time might we change the conditions of mankind. This should be our goal.

When we talk of the equality of man, we find, also, a challenge and an opportunity; a challenge to breathe new life into the ideals enshrined in the Charter, an opportunity to bring men closer to freedom and true equality. and thus, closer to a love of peace.

The goal of the equality of man which we seek is the antithesis of the exploitation of one people by another with which the pages of history and in particular those written of the African and Asian continents, speak at such length. Exploitation, thus viewed, has many faces. But whatever guise it assumes, this evil is to be shunned where it does not exist and crushed where it does. It is the sacred duty of this Organization to ensure that the dream of equality is finally realized for all men to whom it is still denied, to guarantee that exploitation is not reincarnated in other forms in places whence it has already been banished.

As a free Africa has emerged during the past decade, a fresh attack has been launched against exploitation, wherever it still exists. And in that interaction so common to history, this in turn, has stimulated and encouraged the remaining dependent peoples to renewed efforts to throw off the yoke which has oppressed them and its claim as their birthright the twin ideals of liberty and equality. This very struggle is a struggle to establish peace, and until victory is assured, that brotherhood and understanding which nourish and give life to peace can be but partial and incomplete.

In the United States of America, the administration of President Kennedy is leading a vigorous attack to eradicate the remaining vestige of racial discrimination from this country. We know that this conflict will be won and that right will triumph. In this time of trial, these efforts should be encouraged and assisted, and we should lend our sympathy and support to the American Government today.

Last May, in Addis Ababa, I convened a meeting of Heads of African States and Governments. In three days, the thirty-two nations represented at that Conference demonstrated to the world that when the will and the determination exist, nations and peoples of diverse backgrounds can and will work together. in unity, to the achievement of common goals and the assurance of that equality and brotherhood which we desire.

On the question of racial discrimination, the Addis Ababa Conference taught, to those who will learn, this further lesson:

that until the philosophy which holds one race superior and another inferior is finally and permanently discredited and abandoned;

that until there are no longer first class and second class citizens of any nation;

that until the color of a man's skin is of no more significance than the color of his eyes;

that until the basic human rights are equally guaranteed to all without regard to race;

that until that day, the dream of lasting peace and world citizenship and the rule of international morality will remain but a fleeting illusion, to be pursued but never attained.

And until the ignoble and unhappy regimes that hold our brothers in Angola, in Mozambique and in South Africa in subhuman bondage have been toppled and destroyed;

until bigotry and prejudice and malicious and inhuman self-interest have been replaced by understanding and tolerance and good-will;

until all Africans stand and speak as free beings, equal in the eyes of all men, as they are in the eyes of Heaven;

until that day, the African continent will not know peace. We Africans will fight, if necessary, and we know that we shall win, as we are confident in the victory of good over evil.

The United Nations has done much, both directly and indirectly to speed the disappearance of discrimination and oppression from the earth. Without the opportunity to focus world opinion on Africa and Asia which this Organization provides, the goal, for many, might still lie ahead, and the struggle would have taken far longer. For this, we are truly grateful.

But more can be done. The basis of racial discrimination and colonialism has been economic, and it is with economic weapons that these evils have been and can be overcome. In pursuance of resolutions adopted at the Addis Ababa Summit Conference, African States have undertaken certain measures in the economic field which, if adopted by all member states of the United Nations, would soon reduce intransigence to reason. I ask, today, for adherence to these measures by every nation represented here which is truly devoted to the principles enunciated in the Charter.

I do not believe that Portugal and South Africa are prepared to commit economic or physical suicide if honorable and reasonable alternatives exist. I believe that such alternatives can be found. But I also know that unless peaceful solutions are devised, counsels of moderation and temperance will avail for naught; and another blow will have been dealt to this Organization which will hamper and weaken still further its usefulness in the struggle to ensure the victory of peace and liberty over the forces of strife and oppression. Here, then, is the opportunity presented to us. We must act while we can, while the occasion exists to exert those legitimate pressures available to us, lest time run out and resort be had to less happy means.

Does this Organization today possess the authority and the will to act? And if it does not, are we prepared to clothe it with the power to create and enforce the rule of law? Or is the Charter a mere collection of words, without content and substance, because the essential spirit is lacking? The time in which to ponder these questions is all too short. The pages of history are full of instances in which the unwanted and the shunned nonetheless occurred because men waited to act until too late. We can brook no such delay.

If we are to survive, this Organization must survive. To survive, it must be strengthened. Its executive must be vested with great authority. The means for the enforcement of its decisions must be fortified, and, if they do not exist, they must be devised. Procedures must be established to protect the small and the weak when threatened by the strong and the mighty. All nations which fulfill the conditions of membership must be admitted and allowed to sit in this assemblage.

Equality of representation must be assured in each of its organs. The possibilities which exist in the United Nations to provide the medium whereby the hungry may be fed, the naked clothed, the ignorant instructed, must be seized on and exploited for the flower of peace is not sustained by poverty and want.

To achieve this requires courage and confidence. The courage, I believe, we possess. The confidence must be created, and to create confidence we must act courageously.

The great nations of the world would do well to remember that in the modern age even their own fates are not wholly in their hands. Peace demands the united efforts of us all. Who can foresee what spark might ignite the fuse? It is not only the small and the weak who must scrupulously observe their obligations to the United Nations and to each other. Unless the smaller nations are accorded their proper voice in the settlement of the world's problems, unless the equality which Africa and Asia have struggled to attain is reflected in expanded membership in the institutions which make up the United Nations, confidence will come just that much harder. Unless the rights of the least of men are as assiduously protected as those of the greatest, the seeds of confidence will fall on barren soil.

The stake of each one of us is identical - life or death. We all wish to live. We all seek a world in which men are freed of the burdens of ignorance, poverty, hunger and disease. And we shall all be hard-pressed to escape the deadly rain of nuclear fall-out should catastrophe overtake us.

When I spoke at Geneva in 1936, there was no precedent for a head of state addressing the League of Nations. I am neither the first, nor will I be the last head of state to address the United Nations, but only I have addressed both the League and this Organization in this capacity.

The problems which confront us today are, equally, unprecedented. They have no counterparts in human experience. Men search the pages of history for solutions, for precedents, but there are none.

This, then, is the ultimate challenge. Where are we to look for our survival, for the answers to the questions which have never before been posed?

We must look, first, to Almighty God, Who has raised man above the animals and endowed him with intelligence and reason. We must put our faith in Him, that He will not desert us or permit us to destroy humanity which He created in His image.

And we must look into ourselves, into the depth of our souls. We must become something we have never been and for which our education and experience and environment have ill-prepared us. We must become bigger than we have been: more courageous, greater in spirit, larger in outlook. We must become members of a new race, overcoming petty prejudice, owing our ultimate allegiance not to nations but to our fellow men within the human community.

Monday, 28 September 2026

Julie Coker: A Pioneer of Nigerian Television

This image captures a moment in the early career of Nigerian television pioneer Julie Coker, likely taken around 1962 in Ibadan.

Coker began her broadcasting career at Western Nigeria Television (WNTV) in 1959, becoming one of Nigeria’s first female television presenters. Before entering broadcasting, she won the Miss Western Nigeria pageant in 1958 and was a runner-up in the Miss Nigeria competition.

She went on to become a familiar face on Nigerian television, hosting programmes including The Bar Beach Show and her own series, Julie’s World. At a time when television was still developing in the country, her presence helped shape the image of women in broadcasting and entertainment.

Coker’s interests extended beyond television. She also pursued music, recording three albums with EMI Music Nigeria.

From beauty pageants to television studios and music, Julie Coker built a career across different areas of Nigerian popular culture. Her work remains part of the story of the early years of television broadcasting in the country.

#Africa #JulieCoker #NigerianHistory #World

DURO LADIPO: THE MAN WHO TOOK YORUBA THEATRE TO THE WORLD

On March 11, 1978, Nigeria lost one of its greatest theatre pioneers. Durodola Durosomo Duroorike Timothy Adisa Ladipo, popularly known as Duro Ladipo, died in Osogbo after a short illness. He was 51.

Born on December 18, 1926, in Osogbo, Ladipo grew up in a Christian family. His father was an Anglican minister, but his grandfather was deeply knowledgeable about Yoruba mythology and worshipped Sango and Oya. This cultural environment had a major influence on Ladipo's artistic journey.

As a young man, Ladipo developed a deep fascination with Yoruba festivals, mythology, music and traditional performance. He later moved to Ibadan, where he became a teacher and joined the Mbari Mbayo Club, a cultural movement associated with artists and intellectuals including Wole Soyinka and Ulli Beier.

In 1961, Ladipo established his own theatre troupe in Osogbo. He developed a distinctive form of Yoruba folk opera that combined drama, music, dance, drumming, poetry, mime and traditional storytelling. He wrote and performed primarily in Yoruba, bringing Yoruba history and mythology directly to the stage.

His greatest work was Ọba Kò So, meaning The King Did Not Hang, which tells the story of Sango. The production became internationally acclaimed after performances in Berlin in 1964 and at the Commonwealth Arts Festival in 1965. His troupe subsequently toured internationally, taking Yoruba theatre to audiences outside Nigeria.

Ladipo also produced important works such as Ọba Waja, Ọba Moro, Moremi, Suru Baba Iwa and Tani Mo Wọ Iku. Some of his works were adapted for television, including Bode Wasinmi for Nigerian Television Authority, Ibadan.

His impact went beyond entertainment. Ladipo helped preserve Yoruba history, mythology, language, music and traditional performance at a time when Western cultural forms were becoming increasingly influential.

He also transformed the Mbari Mbayo movement in Osogbo into a cultural centre and meeting place where young artists could develop their talents.

In 1977, he participated in FESTAC '77, the World Festival of Black and African Arts and Culture in Lagos.

Then, on March 11, 1978, after a brief illness, Duro Ladipo died in Osogbo.

His life lasted only 51 years, but his work travelled far beyond Nigeria.

He did not merely perform Yoruba stories. He turned Yoruba history, mythology, music and language into theatre that the world could see.

WASIU AYINDE MARSHAL (K1)

Most of the top Nigerian musicians were born with music talent so strongly in them e.g. Fela, Obey, KSA, Ayinla Omowura Eegunmagaji Oosa, SAB, GKA, Salawa Abeni etc. Salawa Abeni was reported always singing the songs of Batili Alake from the morning until he went to bed. The same thing with K1. He was born with music talent. The talent did not allow him to stay much in the school. He was always winning the Ajiwere Ajisari Competition.

In the picture below, he was about 15 years old.

In the 1970s, long before he became K1 De Ultimate and the internationally recognised King of Fuji, a young Wasiu Ayinde Marshal, born on 3 March 1957 in Agarawu, Lagos Island, began his musical journey under the mentorship of legendary Fuji pioneer Sikiru Ayinde Barrister. He joined Barrister’s Supreme Fuji Commanders in the mid-1970s, initially working as an instrument packer before becoming a road manager, while closely observing the band’s music, performances, composition and business. Barrister became his mentor, and with his permission and blessing, Wasiu adopted “Ayinde Barrister” professionally. He later developed his own musical abilities through performances associated with the older "were" tradition during Ramadan, eventually leaving Barrister’s organisation to establish his own band, Wasiu Ayinde Barrister and His Talazo Fuji Commanders.

 His early recordings, including Iba and Abode Mecca, emerged around 1980, but his major breakthrough came with Talazo ’84, which established the influential Talazo system and helped distinguish his evolving sound from his mentor’s while remaining rooted in Fuji. He expanded the genre by incorporating keyboards, saxophones, electric guitars and other Western instruments, creating a fuller and more sophisticated sound. An important supporter of his early career was Saliu Akanmu Adetunji(the late Olubadan of Ibadanland), the Ibadan businessman, promoter and owner of Omo Aje/Baba Laje Records, whose label released Talazo ’84 and numerous other Wasiu Ayinde records.

Over subsequent decades, Wasiu transformed from Barrister’s apprentice into a major Fuji bandleader and international performer, including an appearance at the 1996 WOMAD Festival in Reading, where he was recognised as Best African Artist. He also received traditional honours, including the Olu Omo of Lagos title from the late Oba Adeyinka Oyekan II, although sources differ on whether it was conferred in 1999 or 2001. From carrying instruments for his mentor in the 1970s to developing the Talazo style, modernising Fuji and taking the music to international audiences, Wasiu Ayinde’s journey represents a remarkable evolution from young apprentice to one of Fuji music’s most influential and recognisable ambassadors. He is today the richest Fuji musician. He is the Mayegun of Yorubaland and Olori Omo Oba Akile Ijebuland and Ijebu Remo. He almost became the Awujale of Ijebu Ode but some elemies stopped him.

Picture: La Stampa Soa Olaribigbe 

Source: Ayoade Davidson Ojeniyi 

The Financial Guru Immortalised in Ebenezer Obey's Board Members: Late Prince Patrick Adeyemo Adeyera (1934–2009)

Introduction: When Music Meets Money

In 1972, Nigerian juju music legend Chief Commander Ebenezer Obey released what would become one of the most culturally significant albums in West African music history: Board Members. The album, which sold over 100,000 copies and earned a gold disc, was more than entertainment—it was a sonic archive of Nigeria's post-independence elite. In his unmistakable baritone, Obey name-checked lawyers, insurance executives, entrepreneurs, socialites, and financial titans who defined Lagos high society during the oil boom years.

Among those immortalised in vinyl was Prince Patrick Adeyemo Adeyera, a royal from Ile-Ife who Obey honoured with the distinctive title "Currency Controller Yemo Adeyera." This is the story of how a juju musician's lyrics preserved the legacy of a financial pioneer—and why that legacy still matters today.

A Prince of Ile-Ife, A Scholar of London

Patrick Adeyemo Adeyera was born in 1934 in Ile-Ife, the sacred city regarded as the cradle of the Yoruba people. Though his father was a farmer, Adeyera was born into royalty—a prince of the ancient kingdom. That heritage gave him a natural dignity that those who knew him never forgot.

His educational journey followed the classic path of Nigeria's first-generation elite. He attended St. Philip's Central School in Ile-Ife, then St. Leo's College in Abeokuta (1952–1955), before travelling to London for further studies at North-Western Polytechnic (1962–1964). Those years in London—during the heady era of African independence movements—gave him not only professional training but also the international networks that would later define his business career.

Building Nigeria's Financial Infrastructure

When Adeyera returned to Nigeria, he threw himself into the then-nascent financial services sector. His most notable roles included:

· Chairman, Amicable Bank Plc

· Managing Director, Amicable Assurance Plc (1972–1992)

· Chairman, Bollapat Finance Ltd

· Founder, Amicable Finance and Mortgage Ltd

In an era when indigenous financial institutions were still fighting for space in a economy dominated by colonial-era banks, Adeyera was a pioneer. His vision extended beyond traditional banking—through Amicable Finance and Mortgage, he helped countless Nigerians achieve the dream of home ownership.

His professional credentials were equally impressive: he was a member of the Institute of Bankers, the Institute of Chartered Secretaries, and the International Institute of Insurance. He also served as President of the Nigerian-British Chamber of Commerce, a role in which he became a key bridge between Nigeria and the United Kingdom during the critical early years of the oil boom.

Why Did Obey Sing About Him?

Board Members was born at the height of Nigeria's oil wealth. Obey's album celebrated what scholars have described as "young, wealthy Nigerian top professionals and businessmen"—a social club of sorts that included the likes of Adeyera. Unlike the stereotype of corrupt wealth that would later dominate perceptions of Nigerian elites, Obey's subjects were largely self-made achievers who had earned their fortunes through legitimate enterprise.

Adeyera was the perfect subject for such a song. As a prince of Ile-Ife, he carried traditional authority. As a financial executive, he stood at the cutting edge of modern commerce. He was the meeting point of old and new, of Yoruba heritage and global capitalism.

Obey's choice of title—"Currency Controller"—was artistically inspired. It was not an official position but a poetic designation that captured Adeyera's authority in financial circles. In a newly independent nation striving to control its economic destiny, the man who "controlled currency" symbolised the economic sovereignty Nigeria aspired to.

Beyond Finance: Sports, Community, and Faith

Adeyera's impact extended far beyond boardrooms. He founded Amicable Football Club, providing opportunities for young footballers at a time when Nigerian football was not yet professionalised. He served as the first Chairman of the Ile-Ife Development Committee, driving initiatives for economic growth and infrastructure in his hometown. His commitment to community was not performative—it was rooted in a deep sense of noblesse oblige.

Family members remember him as a man of unwavering faith. "Despite the ups and downs of life, his strong faith in his Creator and the belief that he could make a difference even in adversity truly helped shape his life," they recall. That faith sustained him even when his business ventures—including Amicable Bank and Amicable Assurance—were eventually liquidated.

Adeyera passed away on 15 February 2009 in London at the age of 75. He was survived by his wife, Abike Bolajoko, and his children.

The Enduring Power of Musical Immortality

There is a particular kind of immortality that comes from being sung about by a legend. Adeyera's name, embedded in Obey's Board Members, has outlived him by decades. Every time the album plays—on vinyl, cassette, CD, or streaming platform—the "Currency Controller" lives again.

In a nation where historical memory is often fragile, where the contributions of early indigenous financial pioneers are too often forgotten, Obey's music serves as an unexpected archive. It preserves not just names but a whole era: the optimism of post-independence Nigeria, the emergence of a confident indigenous bourgeoisie, and the belief that Africans could build world-class institutions.

Adeyera's life and Obey's song are intertwined in a way that few business biographies can claim. He was not merely a banker who happened to be mentioned in a hit song. He was, in a sense, canonised by it—transformed from a mortal financier into a permanent character in Nigeria's cultural imagination.

Conclusion: The Man Behind the Melody

Prince Patrick Adeyemo Adeyera was many things: a prince of Ile-Ife, a London-trained professional, a banking pioneer, an insurance executive, a mortgage innovator, a football patron, a community leader, and a man of faith. But in the collective memory of Nigeria, he is also something else—a lyric, a melody, a name that will never fade.

When Ebenezer Obey sang "Currency Controller Yemo Adeyera," he did more than flatter a wealthy patron. He created a bridge between commerce and culture, between the boardroom and the dance floor, between one man's life and a nation's soundtrack. In doing so, he ensured that a financial guru from Ile-Ife would be remembered not just in annual reports, but in the hearts of generations yet unborn.

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"Board Members" remains one of Ebenezer Obey's most celebrated albums, a testament to the power of music to document, celebrate, and immortalise.

Who Was the Very First Person on African Television? The Unresolved Controversy Between Kunle Olasope and Anike Agbaje-Williams

On the night of October 31, 1959, the Western Nigeria Television (WNTV) in Ibadan flickered to life, becoming the first television station on the African continent. That historic broadcast launched an industry and, almost immediately, planted the seeds of a dispute that would outlive both of its central figures: Who was the first person to appear on television in Africa?

The two claimants were pioneer broadcasters Kunle Olasope and Anike Agbaje-Williams. Olasope died in October 2019 at the age of 81. Agbaje-Williams died in February 2025 at 88. Yet the controversy they navigated for decades remains unresolved in public memory, kept alive by the fundamental asymmetry between what actually happened that night and what the cameras recorded.

The Night Itself: A Sequence of Events

To understand the dispute, one must reconstruct the precise choreography of October 31, 1959.

According to Kunle Olasope’s own detailed account, given in a 2018 interview with Sunday Punch, the evening unfolded in two distinct phases.

Phase One: The Opening Ceremony

The formal inauguration took place at the Western House of Chiefs secretariat in Ibadan. Olasope, positioned on the lawns outside, read the opening news bulletin—a five-minute segment—at 7:25 p.m. The final portion of that bulletin previewed the night’s events, including the launch of Africa’s first television station. At 7:29 p.m., the Premier of the Western Region, Chief Obafemi Awolowo, arrived.

This is the critical detail: Olasope’s broadcast occurred before video recording for the night began. He stated plainly: “As soon as he came in, the video recording of that night started from there. They did not record my own part. They started recording from the arrival of Chief Awolowo’s car up to the inside of the hall”.

Phase Two: The Program Launch

After Awolowo formally inaugurated the station at the House of Chiefs, the signal switched to Television House. There, Anike Agbaje-Williams performed the opening continuity announcement, formally launching WNTV’s programming. This moment was captured on video and has been preserved for posterity.

As Olasope himself summarized: “I was part of the opening ceremony, which preceded the launching of programmes; Anike was part of the launching of programmes”.

The Root of the Controversy: Evidence vs. Chronology

The dispute is not about facts. Both parties agreed on the sequence of events. The controversy arises from a collision between two legitimate but competing definitions of “first.”

The Chronological Claim (Olasope): By clock time, Kunle Olasope appeared on television first. He spoke into the broadcast at 7:25 p.m., four minutes before Awolowo’s arrival and considerably earlier than Agbaje-Williams’s studio announcement. If “first” means the earliest moment a person appeared on the signal, Olasope wins.

The Evidentiary Claim (Agbaje-Williams): The only visual record of that night’s broadcast begins with Agbaje-Williams in the studio. Olasope’s segment was not recorded. For anyone reviewing the historical record—journalists, historians, the public—the first person they can actually see on African television is Agbaje-Williams. As Olasope acknowledged, “if you pick the video of that day you will not see me, it made people to wonder, ‘Where is Kunle’s claim?’”.

This is the crux. Olasope’s claim rests on memory and testimony. Agbaje-Williams’s claim rests on a tangible, reproducible artifact. In the economy of historical memory, the artifact almost always wins.

The Compromise That Never Quite Settled

Olasope, to his credit, recognized the futility of the dispute and attempted to resolve it himself.

In 2009, as the Nigerian Television Authority prepared to mark WNTV’s 50th anniversary, Olasope proposed a division of honors. In his words: “I made a suggestion that instead of having this controversy raging on, Anike should claim she is the first television announcer in Africa and I the first television newscaster in Africa. First is first; newscasting is different from announcing. Anike is a woman; I am a man. And that is exactly what NTA did”.

The distinction was both functional and diplomatic:

· Agbaje-Williams: First television announcer (the face of continuity, the voice that launched programming)

· Olasope: First television newscaster (the voice that delivered the news)

Some media outlets adopted this framework. The Guardian Nigeria, in a 2019 opinion piece, wrote: “Mrs Anike Agbaje-Williams became the first person to appear on television. Mr Kunle Olasope, who died in October 2019, became the first man on television”. This formulation—while awkward—acknowledges both claims.

Yet the compromise never achieved universal acceptance. When Olasope died in 2019, Governor Kayode Fayemi of Ekiti State issued a statement declaring him “the very first face on Television in the continent”. When Agbaje-Williams died in 2025, President Bola Tinubu’s condolence message and virtually every major Nigerian outlet called her “Africa’s first face on TV”. Two people, two official eulogies, the same title.

Why the Controversy Persists

Three factors explain why this dispute refuses to die.

First, the asymmetry of evidence. Agbaje-Williams’s claim is backed by video. Olasope’s is backed by testimony. In public discourse, video evidence is nearly impossible to argue against. Every time the 1959 footage is shown, Agbaje-Williams is visually confirmed as the first face. Olasope, no matter how truthful his account, remains invisible.

Second, the zero-sum nature of “first.” Historical narratives crave singular heroes. “First” is a superlative that admits only one occupant. The idea that two people could both be “first” in different capacities—announcer and newscaster—is technically accurate but narratively unsatisfying. It requires explanation, nuance, and context. Simpler to crown one person and move on.

Third, the power of repetition. For decades, Nigerian and international media have described Agbaje-Williams as the first face on African television. Her Wikipedia entry states she “was the first person to appear on television broadcast in the country”. This repetition, coupled with her longevity and the evocative “Double-First” nickname (first on both WNTV and WNBS radio), has cemented her position in popular memory.

The Unresolved Question

What, then, is the truth?

If “first person to appear on African television” means the first individual whose image or voice reached the broadcast signal, the answer is almost certainly Kunle Olasope, at 7:25 p.m. on October 31, 1959.

If it means the first person captured on the historical record of African television, the answer is Anike Agbaje-Williams, whose studio announcement was preserved on video and became the de facto opening image of the medium on the continent.

Both are true. Neither claim negates the other. But the public has never been given a clear, authoritative resolution. NTA’s 2009 compromise was a bureaucratic solution to a narrative problem. It assigned titles but did not settle the emotional and symbolic weight of “first.”

The deaths of both pioneers have not closed the debate. They have, in a sense, frozen it. Olasope can no longer advocate for his place in history. Agbaje-Williams’s legacy is now being consolidated through obituaries and tributes that overwhelmingly favor her claim. The controversy persists not because the facts are unclear, but because history’s demand for a single “first” cannot accommodate two people who were, in different ways, both first.

Iseyin's Immortals: Professor Moshood Abiola Peller (1941–1997), Ahuja Bello; Ismaila Dele Bello, (1942–2025), and Professor Yekini Kolawole Ajao (1954–2026) — The Three Sons of Iseyin Immortalized by Late Sikiru Ayinde Barrister

In the pantheon of Yoruba popular culture, few acts of tribute carry the weight of a Sikiru Ayinde Barrister name-drop. The Fuji creator, who released over 127 albums in his lifetime and transformed a Ramadan wake-up call into a global genre, understood something fundamental about the architecture of memory. A people are not immortalized by monuments of stone, but by the voices that refuse to stop speaking their names. For three men from Iseyin—Professor Moshood Abiola Peller (1941–1997), Ahuja Bello (Ismaila Dele Bello, 1942–2025), and Professor Yekini Kolawole Ajao (1954–2026)—Barrister became that voice, weaving their exploits into the fabric of Fuji music until their stories became inseparable from the soundtrack of Yoruba modernity.

This is the story of how one small Oyo State town produced three titans of Nigerian entertainment, and how the man who reinvented Yoruba music ensured their names would never fade.

Professor Moshood Abiola Peller (1941–1997): The Magician Who Made Reality Disappear

Long before David Blaine walked on water or Dynamo made skyscrapers vanish, a red-haired boy from Iseyin was already bending the laws of perception. Moshood Folorunsho Abiola—known to his classmates as "Olori Pupa," the redheaded one—was born in Iseyin in 1941. His path might have been unremarkable: Muslim School, Native Authority Primary School, then the uncertain hustle of post-colonial Nigeria. But in 1954, something shifted. The boy began performing illusion tricks, traveling to Ibadan, Lagos, and Oyo to dazzle crowds with his growing repertoire.

What followed was an odyssey that would define Nigerian entertainment for three decades. In 1964, he enrolled in a school of magical arts in India, spending eighteen months mastering the craft that would earn him the moniker "Professor." When he returned, he did not merely perform; he transformed. His first post-training show at the Federal Palace Hotel, Lagos, in 1966 announced the arrival of a new kind of African spectacle—one that combined the wonder of global magic with the showmanship of Yoruba performance tradition.

Professor Peller's act was the stuff of legend precisely because it flirted with the impossible. He sawed his wife, Lady Peller, in half and put her back together without a drop of blood. He escaped from chained boxes. He produced white pigeons from a wave of his handkerchief and made flowers bloom from undoing his cufflinks. In one of his most famous illusions, he shut a woman inside a chained cupboard, only for her to reappear in the audience moments later. His performances drew presidents—Mathieu Kerekou of Benin, Gnassingbe Eyadema of Togo, Samuel Kanyon Doe of Liberia—and filled stadiums with people who left questioning what they had just witnessed.

When Professor Peller was assassinated on August 2, 1997, Nigerian magic did not merely lose its greatest practitioner; it lost its gravitational center. For years afterward, the art form languished, as if the nation could not conceive of magic without the man who had made it a household name. His son, Shina Peller, would later carry the family name into Nigerian entertainment and politics, but the original magic died with the Professor.

Ahuja Bello (Ismaila Dele Bello, 1942–2025): The Golden Eagle of Juju

If Professor Peller commanded the stage through illusion, Ismaila Dele Bello—known to the world as Ahuja Bello—captured hearts through rhythm. Born in Iseyin on August 24, 1942, Bello's first calling was not music but electronics. He trained as an electronic technician, a profession that might have consigned him to a quiet life of repairing radios and televisions. But the pull of juju music proved irresistible.

In 1976, Bello formed Ahuja Bello and His Golden Eagles Band, and within a few years, he had carved a distinctive space in the competitive Lagos juju scene. His hits—"Awa ti Danfo" and "Ariya ti de"—were not merely songs; they were invitations to celebration, built on the propulsive rhythms and intricate guitar work that defined juju at its peak. In 1979, he traveled to London to record "Ahuja in London," an experience that brought him into the orbit of none other than Bob Marley. The reggae legend and the juju guitarist became friends—a testament to Bello's magnetism and the cross-cultural possibilities of African music.

Then, on July 24, 1982, tragedy struck. A serious accident, just a month before his fortieth birthday, cut short a career that was still ascending. Ahuja Bello would live another forty-three years, passing away on August 25, 2025, just one day after his 83rd birthday. But the accident of 1982 marked a kind of death—the death of what might have been. His influence endured, but the Golden Eagles never soared quite as high again.

Professor Yekini Kolawole Ajao (1954–2026): The Professor of Juju Makosa

Yekini Kolawole Ajao's story begins, like the others, in Iseyin—but his path to prominence was the most unlikely of the three. Born in 1954, Ajao began playing music at the age of nine, inspired by listening to the legendary I.K. Dairo. Before committing fully to music, he trained as a fashion designer under Josy Ade and as a nurse under Gbolahan, both in Iseyin. These were respectable professions, paths to stability in a Nigeria where artistic ambition was often a gamble.

Ajao gambled anyway. He moved to Lagos in 1971, joined a band led by Captain R. Ade, and in December 1973, formed his own group: Y.K. Ajao and His Professional Brothers Band. His early albums attracted modest attention, but it was the "Makosa Series" that catapulted him to national fame. By blending traditional juju rhythms with makossa influences—a sound he called Juju Makosa—Ajao created something that felt both rooted and modern.

His rise was not without struggle. In the early 1980s, a recession devastated his career. "There was no invitation, no patronage and no single show for me to perform," he later recalled. "Everything I had crumbled." In that moment of despair, he turned to Sikiru Ayinde Barrister, who gave him not only financial support but musical equipment and counsel. The two men—one Fuji, one Juju—shared a bond that transcended genre.

Ajao's comeback was triumphant. "Makosa Series 2," "Vigilante," "Akoni Mamu Gege," and "Oro NEPA" solidified his reputation as one of juju's most innovative voices. King Sunny Ade himself honored Ajao with a ceremonial title at the peak of juju's popularity. When Ajao died on April 17, 2026, at the age of 72, after multiple surgeries in India, the tributes poured in from across Nigeria's musical landscape—from Governor Ademola Adeleke to Sir Shina Peters, who called him "my brother."

Sikiru Ayinde Barrister: The Chronicler Who Refused to Let Them Go

Sikiru Ayinde Barrister did not merely praise people in his music; he practiced a form of sonic journalism. Scholars have analyzed his albums as "news commentary," "editorial," and "sports reportage," noting that he approached topical issues with the rigor of a newspaper columnist. When he sang about an event or a person, he provided context, history, and background—what researchers describe as "temporal dimension" that allowed listeners to trace the full arc of the story.

His 1979 album "Aye" exemplified this journalistic approach. In the track "Disney World," Barrister narrated his journey to Orlando with Alhaji Buhari Oloto, describing the submarine, the sharks, the "heaven on earth" that was the Magic Kingdom. Thousands of elite Nigerians eventually traveled to the United States to verify what Barrister had sung about. His music was not entertainment alone; it was information, and people trusted it enough to act on it.

This same impulse—to document, to praise, to preserve—extended to his treatment of individuals. Barrister's albums were populated with real people: politicians, socialites, fellow musicians, and yes, the accomplished sons of Iseyin. In praising Professor Moshood Abiola Peller (1941–1997), Ahuja Bello (Ismaila Dele Bello, 1942–2025), and Professor Yekini Kolawole Ajao (1954–2026), Barrister was doing what Yoruba oral tradition had always done: ensuring that the worthy would not be forgotten. He understood that a name spoken repeatedly becomes a name remembered, and a name remembered becomes a legacy.

Iseyin: The Town That Made Them

Iseyin is not Lagos. It is not Ibadan. It is a town in Oyo State, known historically for its weaving and its strategic position in Yoruba trade networks. Yet in the mid-twentieth century, it produced three men who would each, in their own way, reshape Nigerian popular culture. The coincidence is not merely statistical; it speaks to something in Iseyin's soil, or its social fabric, or its willingness to let its sons dream beyond the horizon.

Professor Peller (1941–1997) left for India and returned with a profession that barely existed in Nigeria. Ahuja Bello (1942–2025) left for London and came back with Bob Marley's friendship. Professor Y.K. Ajao (1954–2026) left for Lagos and came back with a new genre. Iseyin gave them their foundation—the confidence, the ambition, the sense that the world was larger than the town's boundaries—and they carried it with them wherever they went.

The Immortality of the Spoken Name

Sikiru Ayinde Barrister died in 2010, thirteen years after Professor Peller (1941–1997), fifteen years before Ahuja Bello (1942–2025), and sixteen years before Professor Y.K. Ajao (1954–2026). He did not live to see all three of his subjects pass into memory. But his music lived on, and in that music, so did they.

There is a particular kind of immortality that Fuji and Juju music confer. It is not the immortality of statues or street names—though those have their place. It is the immortality of the chorus, the repeated name, the praise that becomes part of the listener's consciousness. When Barrister praised the sons of Iseyin, he was not merely flattering them; he was inducting them into a tradition of remembrance that predates colonialism, predates the nation-state, predates even the genres he and they practiced.

The three men—Professor Moshood Abiola Peller (1941–1997), the magician; Ahuja Bello (Ismaila Dele Bello, 1942–2025), the musician; and Professor Yekini Kolawole Ajao (1954–2026), the innovator—have now all passed from the stage. But the music remains. And in the music, they are still alive: Peller making pigeons appear, Ahuja Bello strumming his guitar in London, Y.K. Ajao building a new sound from the old. They are immortalized not because they were perfect, but because they were remembered. And they are remembered because one man, Sikiru Ayinde Barrister, from Lagos by way of Ibadan, understood that the highest calling of an artist is to ensure that the worthy are not forgotten.

Sunday, 27 September 2026

HE WAS BORN IN 1918, FOUGHT HITLER'S ALLIES IN THE JUNGLE, AND DIED AT 101. NIGERIA HAS FORGOTTEN HIM.

His name is Private Adama Aduku, and his story will humble you.

‎In 1918 he was born in Abejukolo-Ife, Kogi State. Nigeria was not even a country yet. We were still under British colonial rule. First World War was just ending.

‎Then in 1942 a British colonial soldier came to his village, harassed and humiliated his village Chief right before his eyes. Young Aduku was furious. He made a vow that day "I will wear that uniform and no one will intimidate my people again."

‎He trekked to Makurdi and enlisted in the Royal West African Frontier Force.

‎That one decision threw him into WORLD WAR II.

‎Imagine this, A village boy from Kogi, suddenly fighting in the thick, deadly jungles of India and Burma. Battling malaria, snakes, monsoon rain, and the fierce Japanese Army. He was one of the 90,000 African soldiers Britain used as the backbone of their war in Asia.

‎He didn't stop there. He also fought in Egypt and North Africa. Two different continents, before age 30.

‎He was discharged in Lagos in 1946, tried to be a trader at Tinubu Square, Lagos Island, but the soldier in him couldn't stay quiet. He re-enlisted in Zaria in 1950 and served till 1957  just 3 years before Nigeria got Independence.

‎Then Nigeria forgot him. Like many WW2 heroes, he went back to farm quietly in Kogi.

‎Until July 7, 2018.

‎At 100 YEARS OLD, he stood tall, no shaking, wearing his old uniform with his combat medals. The Nigerian Army had to honour him at Army Day Celebration in Lagos. Vice President Yemi Osinbajo gave him an Award of Excellence. The whole hall stood up.

‎On Dec 31st, 2019, a few hours to New Year, the oldest soldier in Nigeria died at 101.

‎He lived for a Century in Uniform. He saw colonialism, he saw World War, he saw Independence, he saw military coups, he saw democracy.

‎Question: How many of our children in schools today even know his name?

#Africa #BlackHistory #African #World

KUNLE BAMTEFA — THE MAN BEHIND CHIEF FUJI

There are some actors whose names you may not immediately remember until you mention the character they played. Then the face, the voice and the mannerisms all come back.

Chief Fuji.

That was Kunle Bamtefa.

For those of us who grew up watching Nigerian television in the 1980s and 1990s, Bamtefa was one of those familiar faces who became part of our television memories. But there was much more to him than the character many of us came to know.

Bamtefa is a trained actor. At the University of Ibadan, he studied dance, acting and directing for television and stage. He had also worked in broadcasting, including Radio Nigeria and NTA Jos.

Then came Sura the Tailor.

Between 1983 and 1984, Bamtefa created, wrote, produced and directed the comedy programme. That tells you something about his background. He was not simply an actor waiting for someone to give him a role. He understood television from behind the camera as well as in front of it.

Then came Checkmate.

For many viewers, this was where Kunle Bamtefa became a household name. He played Chief Tajudeen “T.A.” Fuji in Amaka Igwe’s Checkmate, which ran from 1991 to 1994. The character later became the centre of Fuji House of Commotion, the much-loved sitcom that grew out of Checkmate.

And what a character Chief Fuji was.

A wealthy, complicated family man with several wives, numerous children and enough domestic drama to keep viewers coming back week after week.

Bamtefa played him so convincingly that, for a long time, many people simply saw him as Chief Fuji.

But Bamtefa himself has made an important distinction. He has said that he is an actor, not a comedian, explaining that the popularity of his comic roles, particularly Chief Fuji, led to him being stereotyped. He deliberately took on more serious dramatic roles to show that side of his craft.

And that is something worth remembering.

Because sometimes a character becomes so successful that it almost overshadows the actor who created it.

Kunle Bamtefa had already built a substantial career before and beyond Chief Fuji. His screen credits include Mortal Inheritance, Violated, Saworoide and Brass Bells. He was also part of The Johnsons, where a younger generation came to know him as Pablo.

So when we talk about Kunle Bamtefa, let us look beyond Chief Fuji.

Look at the trained actor.

Look at the theatre background.

Look at the years in television.

Look at the writing, producing and directing.

Look at the different characters he has played over the years.

Some of us remember Sura the Tailor.

Some remember Checkmate.

Many of us will always remember Chief Fuji.

And a younger generation knows him as Pablo.

That is a remarkable journey through Nigerian entertainment.

Kunle Bamtefa is one of those veterans whose work has quietly travelled across generations.

And perhaps that is why seeing him on screen still feels familiar. He is not just part of a particular television era. He is part of the story of Nigerian television itself.

Chief Fuji may be the character many of us remember first, but Kunle Bamtefa is the trained actor behind the character.

So where are the Lovers of Chief Fuji of the Fuji House of Commotion? Come right here and give him his flowers!!!!

#Africa #Nigeria #AfricanTrend #World

Saturday, 26 September 2026

Queen Oladunni Decency (1949–1978): The Tragedy of Nigeria's First Female Juju Guitarist Who Died Before Her Prime

In the history of Nigerian Juju music, the narrative has long been dominated by male giants: King Sunny Ade, Ebenezer Obey, I.K. Dairo. Yet within that story, one name refuses to be fully erased—Queen Oladunni Decency. She was Nigeria's first female guitarist, the first woman to form and lead a Juju band, and a pioneer who broke barriers in a genre ruled almost entirely by men.

She died in 1978 at just 28 years old, from childbirth complications at Lagos University Teaching Hospital (LUTH). A woman who moved audiences with her fingertips on the guitar strings could not survive childbirth—a risk that many African women still face today. Her guitar fell silent, leaving behind an unfinished legacy and an unanswered question: If she had lived longer, would the gender landscape of Nigerian music history look different?

A Girl Picks Up a Guitar—What Did That Mean?

Serifatu Oladunni Oduguwa was born in 1949 in Noforija, Epe (now Lagos State, Nigeria). She was active from 1966 to 1978—a time when Nigeria had just gained independence, and the post-civil-war society was undergoing rapid change.

Juju music grew out of Yoruba traditional rhythms, built around talking drums, percussion, and guitar, and was the soundtrack for weddings, celebrations, and social gatherings. But in this musical world, women were usually only allowed to sing. Instruments were men's territory, and band leadership was exclusively male. Academic research has stated plainly that Juju music studies have long suffered from "male chauvinism," with women artists systematically ignored and marginalized.

What did Oladunni Decency do? She formed her own band at just 17—"Her Majesty Queen Oladunni Decency and Her Unity Orchestra." She didn't just sing; she played guitar, and she played lead guitar. In that era, a young woman standing at the front of a Juju band, fingers moving across the strings, leading a group of male musicians—that in itself was a silent declaration.

Contemporary commentary even suggested her guitar skill could "make Sunny Ade nervous." King Sunny Ade was the king of Juju music, and such a comparison may not have been a strict technical judgment—but it says enough about how she was regarded by peers and fans.

A Brief but Intense Bloom

Her career lasted only twelve years—from 1966 to 1978. But in those twelve years, she left enough traces that later generations could not forget her.

In 1974, she released the album African New Tempo, which brought her into the mainstream. Her signature works include "Atupa Ma Iku" (widely regarded as her masterpiece), "Ijesa Progressive Union," "Alafia Logun Oro," "Pegan Pegan," and "Metric System." A fan on Discogs, after listening to her album Vol. 7, wrote: "This album is damn good. If you like King Sunny Ade and Ebenezer Obey, highly recommended." Then added: "So little information exists about 'Her Majesty' Queen Oladunni Decency—her Wikipedia is only two sentences—which makes this rare gem even more mysterious."

That "mystery" is itself a tragic footnote. She recorded at least seven major albums, performed in Lagos and across southwestern Nigeria, had her own following, and was affectionately called "Mummy Juju." Yet her biographical record is pitifully thin compared to her male contemporaries. Academic papers note that this "lack of information" is precisely due to gender bias in research.

Whom She Influenced, and Who Forgot Her

Part of Oladunni Decency's significance lies in the gap she opened for those who came after.

In the decades following her death, more women entered Juju music. Academic research records one detail: Titilayo Oguntoyinbo—who later became an important female Juju artist—explicitly stated that Oladunni Decency's live performances "inspired her" to pursue Juju music despite social restrictions on women. The music of the Lijadu Sisters and Oladunni Decency in the early 1980s influenced more than one woman who later became a star.

But here lies a painful irony: Oladunni Decency died in 1978, and the "early 1980s influence" mentioned in academic papers could only refer to her recorded legacy. Many of the women inspired by her music never had the chance to see her on stage. What they heard was the voice of someone already gone—and then they decided to walk the road she had walked.

Age 28: An Artist Interrupted by Childbirth

The most specific account of her death comes from a later comment: "She died from childbirth complications at LUTH hospital in Lagos."

Twenty-eight is too young for any musician, but for a female pioneer of Juju music, the loss carries a deeper meaning. Leading a Juju band requires accumulating repertoire, honing live performances, and building networks with sponsors and audiences. Oladunni Decency spent twelve years building all of that—and then it was gone in an instant.

Her husband, Gilbert Kayode Oduguwa, played percussion in her band. This was a rare partner collaboration model, uncommon in Nigerian music circles at the time. When she died, that partnership was forcibly ended.

If she had lived to 50 or 60, would she have become a "Queen Mother" figure in Nigerian music? Would she have had a career spanning half a century like Sunny Ade, witnessing and participating in every transformation of Juju music? Would she have opened the door for more women to lead bands, so that "first female guitarist" would not be an isolated case but the starting point of a path?

There are no answers to these questions. But their existence is itself a kind of inquiry into that history.

Epilogue

Queen Oladunni Decency's epitaph might read: She picked up an instrument that did not belong to her in that era—and then she made it sing.

She died before her prime, but the twelve years she gave to music were enough to leave a permanent mark on Nigerian Juju. Her story is not only one of tragedy but of courage—a reminder that the history of Nigerian popular music must include the women who dared to play, to lead, and to be heard.

Sunday, 20 September 2026

SEX FARMS DURING SLAVERY & THE EFFEMINIZATION OF BLACK MEN

Did you know that during slavery the slave holders would buy male slaves to engage in forced homosexual sex acts…….?

These male slaves were purchase based entirely on the prerequisite of them possessing a large penis. Black men were routinely raped by their gay slave owners.……

The process was known as “breaking the buck.”…… 

It involves a strapping Negro slave, who was defiant, was beaten with a whip till bloody in front of his entire slave congregation. The slave owner would cut down a tree and, with the help of the overseer, would then pummel the deviant “buck” into submission. Once the slave was worn down, the master had the other Negro slaves force him over the tree stump where his britches would be removed and he laid fully exposed buttocks, he would remove his own clothing and proceeded to savagely sodomize the buck in front his wife, family, friends, and children…….

“Homosexuality” & Slavery: The History of Black Homosexuality in America

In order for his plan to take effect, he would require the buck’s male child to watch, front row center, so he too can witness his father’s sexual demise and humiliation…….Buck Breaking was the slave master’s very effective tool to keep all young black slaves from ever being defiant and taking revenge. It also frightened the mother’s and wives from ever giving consent to an uprising. Buck Breaking was so successful that it was made into a “Sex Farm” where slave master could travel from plantation to plantation feeding their sadistic, homosexual needs…….

They then made it Seem Natural….

They forced homosexuality into our ancestors and made us believe it has always been a part of us….

Sexuality not normal it was taught…….

DID YOU KNOW…….?

Homosexuality has been around for Centuries! In slavery the term “Buck Breaking” was the practice of using sexual violence & punishment for the slave men! 

Once a plantation owner violates the Black man he then turned around & used it as a way to Control the slave!! Before the slave was Sold off he would Sagg his pants to let the next Master know that the slave had already been broken in! This went on for Centuries! Once the slave was introduced to the Penitentiary’s & Jail houses the Warden would already know who was Buck Broken from the “SAGGiN”of the pants!! Some of the Jail wardens were Homosexual’s as well! 

“SAGGIN” is the derived  from the 

word NiGGAS Spelled Backwards! 

Many of Today’s Youths doesn’t fully understand the term “SAGGIN” but for those who does, they know that Saggin is an Invitation or an Expression that Hey I’m available!!

NOW YOU KNOW…….! 

So……. before you get mad here (which I don’t care) and say its false, Google what Buck breaking is...and remember True Black History is Not there for you to like it  but it’s there so it bring light / awareness to what truly happened , instead of it being whitewashed with lies and…swept underneath the rug like it never happened  or even forgotten like it dont matter….

And also so the bad things , bad tortures won’t repeat itself …….  

I Enlighten True Black History For My 

(Black People Only) So……. ALL my

(Sincerely YOLOO LLC true black history page) posts is for my black people, so they can gain knowledge of their history, what happened to their ancestors, so they can be knowledgeable / enlightened in things they didnt know and……. even bring insight to things they might know a little……. Knowledge is power, knowledge is more important than money…so……. Thats why I love enlightening about true black history to

 (My Black People)

“Saggin started in slavery when white homosexual slave masters would rape young black slaves... it’s called buck breaking…….

 You were forced to wear your pants below your waist so other white homosexual slave owners would know you were already Buck Broken”…….

“Saggin backwards spelled niggaS”

white slave owners called black slaves Niggas 

White slave owners made the word Saggin for black slaves men and.. made black slaves Sagg so it can mean black men already “Buck Broken”.......! 

#Africa #BlackHistory#African #World

SHADOWS OF SLAVERY: THE SLAVE TRADE: WHEN HUMAN BEINGS BECAME A COMMODITY:

For centuries, millions of Africans were caught in systems of enslavement that transformed families, communities and entire regions.

The transatlantic slave trade forcibly carried millions of Africans across the Atlantic, particularly to colonies in the Americas.

But slavery did not begin with the Atlantic trade, and African societies were not simply passive observers of history. Different forms of servitude and slavery existed in many parts of the world long before the Atlantic system.

What made the transatlantic system especially devastating was its enormous scale, racialization and connection to colonial economies. People were separated from families. Communities were disrupted.

African societies were affected by violence, warfare, displacement and the loss of generations of people. Yet there is another part of the story that must never be forgotten:

African resistance.

People resisted enslavement in countless ways—from refusing to cooperate and escaping to organized rebellions and preserving language, culture, music, spirituality and identity despite unimaginable oppression. And millions of descendants of those Africans continue to shape the world today.

🌍 WHY MUST WE REMEMBER?

Because history is not only about remembering suffering. It is about understanding how systems were built, how people resisted them, and how their descendants continue to carry African heritage forward. The past should educate us—not define the limits of our future.

What part of African history do you believe schools should teach more deeply?

REMEMBER: Tomorrow at exactly 8:00 AM, we continue exploring another powerful chapter of African history.

Different history. Different lesson. One Mother Africa. 

#ShadowsOfSlavery #AfricanHistory #TransatlanticSlaveTrade #AfricanHeritage #BlackHistory #AfricanResistance #HistoryMatters #KnowYourHistory #PanAfricanism #MotherAfrica #ProudlyAfrican #WestAfrica 

Saturday, 19 September 2026

OJUKWU’S LAIR, THE FLAMINGO MAGAZINE EXCLUSIVE THAT FOUND HIM IN EXILE

Come, let me take you back to 1970/71, when one of Africa’s most famous wartime figures was living far away from Nigeria, in exile in the Ivory Coast.

After the Nigerian Civil War ended in January 1970, former Biafran leader Chukwuemeka Odumegwu Ojukwu fled into exile. 

For months, the international press wanted to know where he was and what his life looked like after the fall of Biafra.

Then came this remarkable FLAMINGO magazine picture story: “Ojukwu’s Lair And The Girl Who Snared Him.”

The reporter was Vanya Kewley, described by the magazine as a tiny, former convent girl and hospital nurse who had become an international reporter. 

According to the story, she spent months trying to reach Ojukwu, travelling from Abidjan towards Yamoussoukro and encountering guards and police along the way.

Eventually, she was given a signal at Abidjan airport by a man wearing dark glasses and holding a tightly rolled newspaper.

That was how the journey to Ojukwu began.

He was living in a heavily guarded villa in Yamoussoukro, then the political capital of the Ivory Coast, as a guest of President Félix Houphouët-Boigny. 

The magazine described the residence as being behind high walls, fences and lights, close to the Holy Lake and its sacred crocodiles.

Ojukwu was not alone. 

Living with him were his wife, two of his children, Mimi and Emeka, his mother, his sister and a group of Igbo bodyguards who had followed him into exile.

For twelve days, Vanya Kewley spoke with Ojukwu about his lonely life, his memories and his thoughts about the future.

The photographs show a very different side of the man Nigerians had watched dominate the headlines during the Civil War.

One photograph shows Ojukwu reading a stack of letters. 

The magazine reported that he received many letters from followers around the world. Another shows him with his daughter Mimi. There are also photographs of him walking around the compound and sitting with members of his family.

His daily life in exile sounded surprisingly quiet.

He spent much of his time answering letters, reading and working on a book. 

The magazine reported that he had taken a trunk filled with papers with him when he left Biafra.

There were few newspapers available in English, and his main physical recreation was reportedly playing table tennis with his guards.

He watched television from the beginning of the day’s broadcast until the final white dot appeared on the screen at night, even though much of the programming was in French.

And then there was Ash, his black-and-white puppy.

At one point, Ojukwu reportedly told Kewley that he had little money. 

He explained that if he had more money, his children would not be attending the school down the road but would instead be sent to a private school in Europe.

The article also reported that Ojukwu was thinking about establishing a Biafran Research Foundation, while remaining unwilling to discuss in detail the men he had left behind.

Another photograph captures what the magazine described as a rare happy occasion in his otherwise lonely exile: the wedding of one of his Igbo security guards who had taken refuge with him. 

The bride wore a borrowed dress, while Ojukwu attended the ceremony in Yamoussoukro.

Think about how extraordinary this must have been at the time.

Only months earlier, Ojukwu had been at the centre of one of the most devastating conflicts in Nigeria’s history.

Now he was living behind guarded walls in a distant country, watching French television, answering letters, writing his book and waiting to see what the future would bring.

The story appeared years before Ojukwu would eventually return to Nigeria after receiving a presidential pardon in 1982.

Today, these pages are more than an old magazine story.

They are a remarkable time capsule of Ojukwu’s life immediately after the Civil War and a glimpse into the man, his family and his lonely years in exile that many Nigerians of today may never have seen.

From Biafra to Yamoussoukro, the distance was not only geographical. 

It was an entirely different chapter of Ojukwu’s life.

Source: FLAMINGO Magazine, “Ojukwu’s Lair And The Girl Who Snared Him,” 1970/71 archival issue. Story by Vanya Kewley; “As told to Gerry Malmed.”

#Ojukwu #BiafraHistory #NigerianHistory #FlamingoMagazine #CivilWarHistory #AfricanArchives

Iyase Okoro-Otun: The Benin Chief Who Returned from Yorubaland and Challenged a King

On 24 July 1935, a remarkable photograph was taken inside the palace of the Oba of Benin. Among the distinguished chiefs gathered for the visit of the Earl of Plymouth was Chief Okoro-Otun, the Iyase of Benin.

The photograph, preserved in an archival collection documenting Benin and Nigerian history, captures Okoro-Otun during the reign of Oba Akenzua II, who had ascended the throne in 1933. Behind the assembled chiefs were the walls of the palace, while the image recorded a generation of Benin traditional leaders during the colonial period.

But the man standing in that photograph had an unusual personal history.

A Benin Man Shaped by Yorubaland

Okoro-Otun's earlier life was closely connected with Yorubaland.

Several accounts identify his original name as Omokhua, while another historical account identifies him as Omokhanunuomwan. Later traditions also associate him with the name Okoro-Otun. Because the available sources do not agree on every detail of his early biography, it is safer not to treat every version of his personal name and birthplace as equally established.

What is considerably clearer is his connection with the Benin royal restoration after the British occupation of Benin in 1897.

Historical accounts describe Okoro-Otun as one of the Benin men who had lived for a considerable period in the Yoruba-speaking regions and later returned to Benin. A local historical account places his return around 1915, during the period when Prince Aiguobasimwin was working towards restoring the Benin monarchy. A later account describes him as having served as the Esama before eventually becoming Iyase.

His experience in Yorubaland appears to have influenced his identity and manner. One account specifically remembers that he had difficulty speaking Edo when he returned, yet became deeply involved in Benin affairs.

That mixture of Benin ancestry and Yoruba cultural influence would later become particularly significant.

From Esama to Iyase

Okoro-Otun eventually rose through the hierarchy of the Benin traditional system.

Historical accounts agree that Oba Eweka II appointed him Iyase, although the precise year is presented differently in some secondary accounts. A scholarly study of Benin's political crises states that Eweka II made Okoro-Otun Iyase in 1928. Other accounts connect his appointment with the period following the death of Iyase Agho Obaseki in the early 1920s.

The office was far more than an honorary title.

The Iyase occupied a powerful position in the Benin political structure and traditionally functioned as the leader of the Eghaevbo N'Ore, the group of chiefs associated with the administration of the kingdom. Historical scholarship describes the office as providing a traditional counterweight to royal authority and as having a role in defending popular interests against possible abuses of royal power.

This helps explain why the relationship between the Iyase and the Oba could become politically sensitive.

Under Eweka II, Okoro-Otun enjoyed considerable influence.

Under his successor, however, the relationship changed dramatically.

A New Oba, A Different Relationship

When Oba Akenzua II came to the throne in 1933, he inherited a powerful Iyase whose personality and political influence had already developed during the previous reign.

The relationship soon became strained.

One of the clearest recorded disagreements concerned Okoro-Otun's use of a beaded Yoruba-style head-dress.

A scholarly study of Benin's political development records that in 1935, Akenzua II refused to allow Okoro-Otun to appear publicly wearing the beaded head-dress that Oba Eweka II had permitted him to wear.

The dispute went further.

Akenzua II also prevented the Iyase from carrying the ceremonial ada, the sword traditionally associated with his office when he visited other chiefs. The Oba seized the sword, and it remained in his possession for approximately four days before the colonial Resident, Mr White, intervened and it was returned.

The incident was not simply about clothing.

It represented a deeper disagreement over authority, tradition and the limits of the Iyase's independence.

Okoro-Otun had spent years in a Yoruba environment before returning to Benin. Some aspects of the culture he acquired there remained visible in his appearance and conduct. Akenzua II, however, increasingly sought to assert the authority of the palace and reinforce the expectations surrounding Benin traditions and institutions.

The head-dress consequently became a symbol of a much larger struggle.

The Iyase Becomes an Opposition Figure

The disagreement between the two men eventually extended beyond ceremonial matters.

During the late 1930s and early 1940s, Okoro-Otun emerged as one of the most prominent figures opposing aspects of Akenzua II's administration.

The Benin water-rate and taxation disputes became particularly important. According to historical accounts, Okoro-Otun was among the chiefs who led opposition to unpopular taxation and administrative measures. Jacob Egharevba's A Short History of Benin records that the Benin Tax-Payers' Association was headed by chiefs including Okoro-Otun, the Iyase, during the water-rate agitation.

The disputes were not merely palace quarrels. They involved ordinary Benin residents who objected to taxation, building regulations and aspects of the Native Authority system.

By 1940–41, the confrontation had become particularly serious.

A historical account records that Okoro-Otun's house became an important meeting place during the disputes, rather than the palace itself. In the building-rules crisis of 1941, the conflict became serious enough for threats to depose the Oba to emerge. Intervention by the colonial authorities and traditional rulers eventually helped bring the immediate dispute to an end.

In 1941–42, opposition associated with Okoro-Otun and other political figures became even more intense. One scholarly account states that supporters of the Iyase called for a boycott of the palace and even threatened to depose Akenzua II. Eventually, the Oba attended a meeting at Okoro-Otun's residence, where other traditional rulers helped mediate the dispute.

Thus, the man once trusted by Eweka II had become one of the strongest checks on Akenzua II's authority.

The Legacy of a Controversial Iyase

Okoro-Otun died on 27 July 1943. His death marked the end of an unusually powerful chapter in the history of the Iyase institution.

Akenzua II subsequently refused for several years to appoint another Iyase. Eventually, in 1947, he attempted to abolish the title and replace it with another office. The decision generated considerable opposition and became known as the Iyase title crisis. In 1948, Gaius Ikuobase Obaseki was eventually appointed Iyase.

The controversy demonstrated just how powerful the institution had become.

Okoro-Otun's life therefore cannot be reduced to the story of a chief who wore a Yoruba cap against the wishes of a Benin Oba. His story illustrates the complexities of identity and political authority in early twentieth-century Benin.

He was a Benin man whose life had been profoundly shaped by contact with Yorubaland, a returnee who became a major traditional authority, a trusted figure under Eweka II and eventually a formidable political opponent of Akenzua II.

His story also reveals something important about the Benin political system: the Iyase was not simply a subordinate of the Oba. The office possessed its own traditional responsibilities and could serve as a powerful counterweight to royal authority.

The photograph from 1935 therefore captures more than an elderly traditional chief standing among other palace dignitaries.

It captures Chief Okoro-Otun at the height of a career that had placed him at the centre of Benin's political life — a man whose journey from Yorubaland to the Benin palace would ultimately put him on a collision course with the very institution he had sworn to serve.

Photo caption: Chief Okoro-Otun, Iyase of Benin, pictured among Benin chiefs during the visit of the Earl of Plymouth to the Oba's palace on 24 July 1935. The archival photograph is attributed to S. O. Alonge.

Photo source: Northwestern University / archival collection, as supplied with the photograph by Can dy.

Sources

Northwestern university

Igbo HistoryHistory_Daily Almighty Nigeria History EFOS BLOG Edo People Entertainments Edo Updates

CHIEF ANTHONY UKPABI ASIKA THE MAN WHO RULED EAST CENTRAL STATE DURING THE CIVIL WAR

Come, let me take you back to one of the most complicated periods in Nigeria’s history, when the country was fighting a civil war and the former Eastern Region had been divided by war, politics and competing loyalties.

One of the most controversial figures of that period was Chief Anthony Ukpabi Asika, an Igbo man who became the Federal Government’s Administrator of East Central State during the Nigerian Civil War.

Asika was born in Onitsha on 28 June 1936. 

He was educated at St. Patrick’s College, Calabar, and Edo College before proceeding to University College Ibadan and later the University of California, Berkeley, where he studied political science.

He returned to Nigeria and became a lecturer in Political Science at the University of Ibadan in 1965.

But the crisis that engulfed Nigeria in 1966 would completely change the direction of his life.

When Colonel Odumegwu Ojukwu declared the secession of the Eastern Region as the Republic of Biafra in May 1967, Asika took a position against the secession.

On 28 October 1967, after federal troops had captured Enugu, General Yakubu Gowon appointed Asika as the Administrator of the newly created East Central State.

He was only 31 years old.

For the next several years, Asika became one of the most important civilian figures representing the Federal Government in the former Eastern Region.

His position was extremely controversial.

To the Biafran side, he was an Igbo man who had chosen to work with the Federal Government. 

Biafran propaganda reportedly referred to him as “Lord Haw Haw,” portraying him as a traitor to the Biafran cause.

But Asika saw himself differently.

He maintained that Nigeria should remain one country and that his decision was based on his belief in a united Nigeria rather than loyalty to a particular political or ethnic cause.

During the war, he administered the areas of the former Eastern Region that came under federal control. 

After Biafra surrendered in January 1970, his role became even more important as the Federal Government attempted to restore administration and normal life across the devastated region.

His story is therefore one that cannot easily be placed into a simple box of hero or villain.

He was an Igbo intellectual who stood on the Federal side during a war in which many of his fellow Igbo people supported Biafra.

After the war, Asika remained active in Nigerian public life. 

In 1985, he led a Nigerian presidential delegation to Niger, Chad and Cameroon in an effort to discuss the reopening of Nigeria’s borders and strengthening relations with its neighbours.

In 1996, Asika suffered a stroke. 

He lived with the effects of the illness for several years.

He died in Abuja on 14 September 2004, aged 68.

Today, Anthony Ukpabi Asika remains one of the most debated figures of the Nigerian Civil War era not simply because of the position he held, but because of the difficult choice he made at a time when Nigeria was literally tearing itself apart.

History is rarely black and white.

Sometimes, it is about people making choices in moments when every choice comes with a price.

#NigerianHistory #Biafra #CivilWar #AnthonyAsika #HistoryOfNigeria #IgboHistory

GENERAL MOBUTU SESE SEKO

Did you know that In 1973, the then Zairian President, General Mobutu Sese Seko, visited Mauritania for three days. At that time, Mauritania was one of the poorest countries in Africa, with an economy that depended on fishing, farming, and sheep herding.

During the three days of discussions, President Mobutu noticed that his host, Mauritania’s President Moktar Ould Daddah, the first president of Mauritania after its independence from French colonial rule did not change his suit throughout the entire visit. Mobutu realized that his host did not have enough money to purchase elegant and expensive suits.

At the conclusion of his visit, while at the departure lounge of Nouakchott Airport, President Mobutu discreetly handed a check for 5 million US dollars to President Ould Daddah’s secretary so as not to embarrass his host. Along with the check, he included a note with the addresses of famous fashion designers in Paris, where Mobutu himself tailored his suits, hoping that President Ould Daddah would also be able to order formal suits and accessories from those houses.

After Mobutu’s departure, the secretary gave the check to President Ould Daddah, explaining that it was a gift from Mobutu for him to buy suits and clothing from Paris. President Ould Daddah immediately handed the check over to Mauritania’s Minister of Finance so that it could be deposited into the state treasury.

Later, from this gift money, Mauritania built and equipped the Higher School for Teacher Training, as the country was suffering from an acute shortage in this field due to poverty.

Five years later, in 1978, Mobutu made a stopover in Morocco while returning from the United States and stayed there for a week. When President Moktar learned of his stop in Rabat, he contacted him and invited him to visit Mauritania, even if only briefly.

On the way from the airport to the presidential palace in Nouakchott, Mobutu noticed banners in French decorating the streets that read: “Thank you Zaire ,Thank you Mobutu ,Thank you for the gift.”

Before the motorcade reached the palace, Mobutu stopped at the Teacher Training School, got out of his car, and, astonished, asked his host about the banners. He asked President Moktar: “What is this gift that the Mauritanian people are thanking me for? I have only just arrived in Nouakchott an hour ago, and I brought no gifts with me nor gave any gift.”

At that moment, President Moktar smiled and said:

“This is your valuable gift. With the five million dollars you gave me five years ago, we built this Teacher Training School, because our people are in dire need of money to fight illiteracy and poverty.”

Mobutu embraced him and said:

“If only the rest of Africa’s leaders were like you, our continent would not be suffering from illiteracy, ignorance, poverty, and underdevelopment.”

President Moktar replied: “I receive a monthly salary from the state treasury, so I am not working without pay. That gift of yours belongs to the Mauritanian people. As for my appearance and clothing, it is not right for me to wear the finest global fashions while my people suffer from poverty. With education, we can defeat these plagues and obstacles that hinder our progress.”

It was well known about President Moktar (RIP, he died in 2003) that he lived a very simple life, shunning luxury and extravagance. He lived in a modest home with only three rooms.

This true story is a gift to every thief who shouts slogans of patriotism and hides behind religion in order to steal the sustenance of the people and the dreams of the poor.

#Africa #Zaire #Africa #World

Sunday, 13 September 2026

MAY YOUR ROAD BE ROUGH

I am not cursing you; I am wishing you what I wish myself every year. I therefore repeat, may you have a hard time this year, may there be plenty of troubles for you this year! If you are not so sure what you should say back, why not just say, ‘Same to you’? I ask for no more.

Our successes are conditioned by the amount of risk we are ready to take. Earlier on today I visited a local farmer about three miles from where I live. He could not have been more than fifty-five, but he said he was already too old to farm vigorously. He still suffered, he said, from the physical energy he displayed as a farmer in his younger days. Around his hut were two pepper bushes. There were kokoyams growing round him. There were snail shells which had given him meat. There must have been more around the banana trees I saw. He hardly ever went to town to buy things. He was self-sufficient. The car or the bus, the television or the telephone, the newspaper, Vietnam or Red China were nothing to him. He had no ambitions whatsoever, he told me. I am not sure if you are already envious of him, but were we all to revert to such a life, we would be practically driven back to cave dwelling.

On the other hand, try to put yourself into the position of the Russian or the America astronaut. Any moment now the count, 3, 2, 1, is going to go, and you are going to be shot into the atmosphere and soon you will be whirling round our earth at the speed of six miles per second. If you get so fired into the atmosphere and you forget what to do to ensure return to earth, one of the things that might happen to you is that you could become forever satellite, going round the earth until you die of starvation and even then your body would continue the gyration!

When, therefore, you are being dressed up and padded to be shot into the sky, you know only too well that you are going on the roughest road man had ever trodden. The Americans and Russians who have gone were armed with the great belief that they would come back. But I cannot believe that they did not have some slight foreboding on the contingency of their non-return. It is their courage for going in spite of these apprehensions that makes the world hail them so loudly today.

The big fish is never caught in shallow waters. You have to go into the open sea for it. The biggest businessmen make decisions with lighting speed and carry them out with equal celerity. They do not dare delay or dally. Time would pass them by if they did. The biggest successes are preceded by the greatest of heart-burnings. You should read the stories of the bomber pilots of World War II. The Russian pilot, the German pilot, the American or the British pilot suffered exactly the same physical and mental tension the night before a raid on enemy territory. There were no alternative routes for those who most genuinely believed in victory for their side.

You cannot make omelettes without breaking eggs, throughout the world, there is no paean without pain. Jawaharlal Nehru has put it so well. I am paraphrasing him. He wants to meet his troubles in a frontal attack. He wants to see himself tossed into the aperture between the two horns of the bull. Being there, he determines he is going to win and, therefore, such a fight requires all his faculties.

When my sisters and I were young and we slept on our small mats round our mother, she always woke up at 6a.m. for morning prayers. She always said prayers on our behalf but always ended with something like this: ‘May we not enter into any dangers or get into any difficulties this day.’ It took me almost thirty years to dislodge the canker-worm in our mother’s sentiments. I found, by hard experience, that all that is noble and laudable was to be achieved only through difficulties and trials and tears and dangers. There are no other roads.

If I was born into a royal family and should one day become a constitutional king, I am inclined to think I should go crazy. How could I, from day to day, go on smiling and nodding approval at somebody else’s successes for an entire lifetime? When Edward the Eighth (now Duke of Windsor) was a young, sprightly Prince of Wales, he went to Canada and shook so many hands that his right arm nearly got pulled out of its socket. It went into a sling and he shook hands thenceforth with his left hand. It would appear he was trying his utmost to make a serious job out of downright sinecurist.

Life, if it is going to be abundant, must have plenty of hills and vales. It must have plenty of sunshine and rough weather. It must be rich in obfuscation and perspicacity. It must be packed with days of danger and of apprehension.

When I walk into the dry but certainly cool morning air of every January 1st, I wish myself plenty of tears and of laughter, plenty of happiness and unhappiness, plenty of failures and successes. Plenty of abuse and praise. It is impossible to win ultimately without a rich measure of intermixture in such a menu. Life would be worthless without the lot. We do not achieve much in this country because we are all so scared of taking risks. We all want the smooth and well-paved roads. While the reason the Americans and others succeeded so well is that they took such great risks.

If, therefore, you are out in this New Year 1964, to win any target you have set for yourself, please accept my prayers and your elixir. May your road be rough!

By Tai Solarin January 1, 1964

WHO IS AFRAID OF TAI SOLARIN? PEOPLE IN HISTORY THEY WANT US TO FORGET ABOUT

The year was 2020. I was (and still am) an impressionable student of English Language Education at Olabisi Onabanjo University. Femi Osofisan’s Who’s Afraid of Solarin? (1978) was one of the required drama texts for a now-forgotten literature course. Initially, I begrudgingly flipped through the pages of the text. However, after completing Act 1, Scene 1, I began reading with rapt attention, fully appreciating the ancient wisdom embedded in the text.

Written in honour of Tai Solarin, Nigerian foremost educator and social critic, the text was my first conscious engagement with the educator’s work and social impact in Nigerian society. Before reading Osofisan’s play, Solarin’s name had always lingered around me, but without a clear understanding of his contributions.

Beyond trivial details (such as the university named after him, his courage, and his penchant for khaki shorts), I never truly understood who Tai Solarin was or what he represented in Nigerian educational and political history. However, through reading the play, I experienced, within a fictional framework, Tai Solarin’s profound societal impact, not only as an educator but also as a government official.

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Thirty years after his death, Tai Solarin’s imposing legacy endures.

By Seyi Lasisi

The year was 2020. I was (and still am) an impressionable student of English Language Education at Olabisi Onabanjo University. Femi Osofisan’s Who’s Afraid of Solarin? (1978) was one of the required drama texts for a now-forgotten literature course. Initially, I begrudgingly flipped through the pages of the text. However, after completing Act 1, Scene 1, I began reading with rapt attention, fully appreciating the ancient wisdom embedded in the text.

Written in honour of Tai Solarin, Nigerian foremost educator and social critic, the text was my first conscious engagement with the educator’s work and social impact in Nigerian society. Before reading Osofisan’s play, Solarin’s name had always lingered around me, but without a clear understanding of his contributions.

Beyond trivial details (such as the university named after him, his courage, and his penchant for khaki shorts), I never truly understood who Tai Solarin was or what he represented in Nigerian educational and political history. However, through reading the play, I experienced, within a fictional framework, Tai Solarin’s profound societal impact, not only as an educator but also as a government official.

Tai Solarin

Tai Solarin

Augustus Taiwo ‘Tai’ Solarin (20th August, 1922 – 27th July, 1994)

Christened Augustus Taiwo Solarin, the educator was born on August 20th, 1922, in Ikenne-Remo, Ogun State, into a humble background. His father, Daniel Solarin, was well-versed in drumming, tilling the soil, and tapping palm wine. History notes that his academic journey began at Otapete Methodist Primary School in Ilesha, Osun State.

Upon obtaining his Standard Six Certificate, he enrolled at Wesley College in Ibadan, Oyo State, to pursue his Higher Elementary (Grade Two) Teacher’s Certificate. Following his successful education abroad, he returned to Nigeria and was appointed as the new principal of Molusi College in Ijebu-Ogbo, Ogun State.

From there, Tai Solarin began his career as a professional teacher. His time at Molusi College was brief, as he was compelled to resign due to his strong opposition to the school’s practice of opening each day with hymns and prayers. As an avowed secular humanitarian and atheist, Solarin’s protest against the Molusi governing board’s decision was a catalyst for change. Following his resignation, he, along with his wife, Sheila Solarin, were inspired to establish Mayflower School in Ikenne, Ogun State, which became the first secular school in Nigeria. Under Tai Solarin’s guidance, the school emphasised the importance of vocational and practical skills.

Teaching self-reliance and innovative thinking, the school integrated Agricultural Science into its curriculum. Students were involved in farming, harvesting, and even building their own dormitories. Tai Solarin believed that for the nation to become industrialised, there needed to be a strong focus on technical and innovative skills.

The school has produced a remarkable list of Nigerian thinkers, pioneers, and educators. Notable alumni include Mrs. Modupe Kazeem, the first national female Chemical Engineer; Pastor Williams Kumuyi of the Deeper Life Bible Church; Bishop Mike Okonkwo of The Redeemed Evangelical Mission; and journalist and media entrepreneur, Chude Jideonwo. These individuals experienced Tai Solarin’s military-like educational structure.

A well-read and passionate educator, Tai Solarin was also notable for his regular columns in two national newspapers, The Daily Times and The Nigerian Tribune. Over two decades, his writings garnered praise from Nigerians for their insightful commentary, while drawing disapproval from the military government for their relentless criticism of corruption and religious activities. As an outspoken social critic, he bravely challenged corruption and military rule in Nigeria.

As one of the post-Independence civil rights critics and activists, including figures such as Fela Anikulapo-Kuti, Wole Soyinka, Ayodele Awojobi, Dele Giwa, Gani Fawehinmi, Ken Saro-Wiwa, Solarin’s writings were dedicated to opposing the military government of his time. Under military dictatorship, his critiques served as a potent form of opposition. However, this dedication came with its challenges.

Published in 1975, “The Beginning of the End”, an article written by Tai Solarin prophetically predicted the downfall of the Yakubu Gowon military regime. This article led to his arrest. Upon his release, Solarin continued his vigorous criticism of the government, resulting in subsequent arrests. This cycle of arrest and release persisted until his death, driven by his unwavering demand for the military dictatorship to cede power to civilians.

Outside his widely–read column, he published several books including Towards Nigeria’s Moral Self-Government (1959), Thinking With You (1965), A Message for Young Nigerians (1981), Timeless Tai (1985), and To Mother With Love (1987). Through these thought-provoking books, filled with signature criticism of corruption, he inspired generations of young Nigerians to think critically and challenge the status quo. Sola Ebiseni, a journalist at Vanguard Newspaper, Femi Abbas, a columnist at The Nation’s Newspaper are journalists who have written articles whose titles recall Tai Solarin’s 1975, “The Beginning of the End.”

A casual glance at the Nigerian political landscape reveals that many of the issues Tai Solarin fought against, particularly corruption, persist to this day. The government often responds lethargically to citizens’ concerns, and instead of fulfilling their duties, many politicians prefer to enrich themselves with stolen wealth. This raises a poignant question: what sort of articles would Tai Solarin be writing if he were alive today?

Published sixteen years before Tai Solarin’s death, Osofisan’s Who’s Afraid of Solarin? pays tribute to the life and legacy of the relentless social critic. Osofisan skillfully and humorously documents Solarin’s tenure as a one-time Public Complaints Commissioner (PCC) for the old Western Region of Nigeria, which included Oyo, Ondo, and Ogun States. The PCC position was established by the Obasanjo-Muhammed regime to address administrative corruption in society.

Thirty years after his death, Tai Solarin’s imposing legacy endures.

By Seyi Lasisi

The year was 2020. I was (and still am) an impressionable student of English Language Education at Olabisi Onabanjo University. Femi Osofisan’s Who’s Afraid of Solarin? (1978) was one of the required drama texts for a now-forgotten literature course. Initially, I begrudgingly flipped through the pages of the text. However, after completing Act 1, Scene 1, I began reading with rapt attention, fully appreciating the ancient wisdom embedded in the text.

Written in honour of Tai Solarin, Nigerian foremost educator and social critic, the text was my first conscious engagement with the educator’s work and social impact in Nigerian society. Before reading Osofisan’s play, Solarin’s name had always lingered around me, but without a clear understanding of his contributions.

Beyond trivial details (such as the university named after him, his courage, and his penchant for khaki shorts), I never truly understood who Tai Solarin was or what he represented in Nigerian educational and political history. However, through reading the play, I experienced, within a fictional framework, Tai Solarin’s profound societal impact, not only as an educator but also as a government official.

Tai Solarin

Tai Solarin

Augustus Taiwo ‘Tai’ Solarin (20th August, 1922 – 27th July, 1994)

Christened Augustus Taiwo Solarin, the educator was born on August 20th, 1922, in Ikenne-Remo, Ogun State, into a humble background. His father, Daniel Solarin, was well-versed in drumming, tilling the soil, and tapping palm wine. History notes that his academic journey began at Otapete Methodist Primary School in Ilesha, Osun State.

Upon obtaining his Standard Six Certificate, he enrolled at Wesley College in Ibadan, Oyo State, to pursue his Higher Elementary (Grade Two) Teacher’s Certificate. Following his successful education abroad, he returned to Nigeria and was appointed as the new principal of Molusi College in Ijebu-Ogbo, Ogun State.

From there, Tai Solarin began his career as a professional teacher. His time at Molusi College was brief, as he was compelled to resign due to his strong opposition to the school’s practice of opening each day with hymns and prayers. As an avowed secular humanitarian and atheist, Solarin’s protest against the Molusi governing board’s decision was a catalyst for change. Following his resignation, he, along with his wife, Sheila Solarin, were inspired to establish Mayflower School in Ikenne, Ogun State, which became the first secular school in Nigeria. Under Tai Solarin’s guidance, the school emphasised the importance of vocational and practical skills.

Teaching self-reliance and innovative thinking, the school integrated Agricultural Science into its curriculum. Students were involved in farming, harvesting, and even building their own dormitories. Tai Solarin believed that for the nation to become industrialised, there needed to be a strong focus on technical and innovative skills.

The school has produced a remarkable list of Nigerian thinkers, pioneers, and educators. Notable alumni include Mrs. Modupe Kazeem, the first national female Chemical Engineer; Pastor Williams Kumuyi of the Deeper Life Bible Church; Bishop Mike Okonkwo of The Redeemed Evangelical Mission; and journalist and media entrepreneur, Chude Jideonwo. These individuals experienced Tai Solarin’s military-like educational structure.

Tai Solarin

Tai Solarin

A well-read and passionate educator, Tai Solarin was also notable for his regular columns in two national newspapers, The Daily Times and The Nigerian Tribune. Over two decades, his writings garnered praise from Nigerians for their insightful commentary, while drawing disapproval from the military government for their relentless criticism of corruption and religious activities. As an outspoken social critic, he bravely challenged corruption and military rule in Nigeria.

As one of the post-Independence civil rights critics and activists, including figures such as Fela Anikulapo-Kuti, Wole Soyinka, Ayodele Awojobi, Dele Giwa, Gani Fawehinmi, Ken Saro-Wiwa, Solarin’s writings were dedicated to opposing the military government of his time. Under military dictatorship, his critiques served as a potent form of opposition. However, this dedication came with its challenges.

Published in 1975, “The Beginning of the End”, an article written by Tai Solarin prophetically predicted the downfall of the Yakubu Gowon military regime. This article led to his arrest. Upon his release, Solarin continued his vigorous criticism of the government, resulting in subsequent arrests. This cycle of arrest and release persisted until his death, driven by his unwavering demand for the military dictatorship to cede power to civilians.

Outside his widely–read column, he published several books including Towards Nigeria’s Moral Self-Government (1959), Thinking With You (1965), A Message for Young Nigerians (1981), Timeless Tai (1985), and To Mother With Love (1987). Through these thought-provoking books, filled with signature criticism of corruption, he inspired generations of young Nigerians to think critically and challenge the status quo. Sola Ebiseni, a journalist at Vanguard Newspaper, Femi Abbas, a columnist at The Nation’s Newspaper are journalists who have written articles whose titles recall Tai Solarin’s 1975, “The Beginning of the End.”

See Also

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Culture

Undoing the Knots Society Tied in Your Mind

A casual glance at the Nigerian political landscape reveals that many of the issues Tai Solarin fought against, particularly corruption, persist to this day. The government often responds lethargically to citizens’ concerns, and instead of fulfilling their duties, many politicians prefer to enrich themselves with stolen wealth. This raises a poignant question: what sort of articles would Tai Solarin be writing if he were alive today?

Published sixteen years before Tai Solarin’s death, Osofisan’s Who’s Afraid of Solarin? pays tribute to the life and legacy of the relentless social critic. Osofisan skillfully and humorously documents Solarin’s tenure as a one-time Public Complaints Commissioner (PCC) for the old Western Region of Nigeria, which included Oyo, Ondo, and Ogun States. The PCC position was established by the Obasanjo-Muhammed regime to address administrative corruption in society.

Who’s Afraid of Solarin?

Who’s Afraid of Solarin?

What readers of the text will get is an intimate understanding of Solarin’s advocacy for social change in Nigeria. Through characters such as Chief Gbonmiayelobiojo, two professional beggars (Lamidi and Lemomu), and a corrupt pastor, the playwright sheds light on the systemic and institutional corruption that Tai Solarin fought against.

Central to both the social critic and the play is a fierce commentary on corruption. Additionally, both Tai Solarin and Osofisan’s play challenge negligent, bureaucratic, conniving, and corrupt politicians and religious leaders who are apathetic towards their social duties and responsibilities.

Today, thirty years after his death, Tai Solarin’s imposing legacy endures. The Tai Solarin College of Education (TASCE), formerly Ogun State College of Education, stands as a testament to his contributions to education and human rights. Osofisan’s text further cements the social critic’s passionate battle against corruption. Tai Solarin lives on.

Seyi Lasisi is a Nigerian creative with an obsessive interest in Nigerian and African films as an art form. His film criticism aspires to engage the subtle and apparent politics, sentiments, and opinions of the filmmaker to see how they align with reality.

Source: Seyi Lasisi

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