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Onyeka Onwenu is a veteran singer and an one-time aspiring politician

I have rarely made it my business to respond to newspaper articles, but when I do, you can be sure that I have been sorely provoked.

You can also imagine that in nearly thirty years as an Entertainer, running the whole gamut of the industry as Singer/Songwriter, Actress, Broadcaster etc, I have had more than a fair share of unwarranted attacks. I have also witnessed others go through it, especially women. I have come to accept these attacks as some of the hazards of the job we do. There are people who are just jealous of others’ progress and who perhaps live vicariously, albeit with malicious intent, through the doings of those they envy. Some of these people happen to be journalists who by virtue of their profession, have the advantage of the pages of a newspaper or the air waves, as instruments of harassment and denigration.

That said, let me remind all, that I am a journalist and have unlimited respect for my profession and training. Nigerian journalists are among the best in the world and I am indeed proud to be one of them.

Nigeria is a society which professes to respect women, but in practice we do not. Our tradition is to keep them down, relegate them to the background where they are best seen and not heard. When they manage to break through the glass ceiling, striving to be themselves and excelling against all odds, we celebrate them, quite alright, but with an undertone of fear for their “brazen”, “aggressive” and “uppity” disposition. And as soon as the slightest opportunity presents itself, we quickly pull them down.

A journalist who never fails to disappoint in this regard is Mr Reuben Abati of the Guardian Editorial Board. On the issue of Nigeria’s First Ladies and their “Powers”, Abati’s language is almost always condescending and denigatory, to the extent that I am compelled to conclude that he harbours a deep resentment for women – for some reason. His last contribution to the Okirika Waterfront demolition debate and Her Excellency, Dame Jonathans’ expression of concern, earlier this year, comes readily to mind.

Quite a few journalists in the 80s and 90s made their names criticizing Onyeka Onwenu, mostly for no reason other than their wanting to be noticed. I refer to people like Azuka Jebosi and Ladi of Punch Newspapers, Mayor Akinpelu and Faj of the defunct Fame Magazine.

At a point, Dele Momudu, God bless him, was moved to admonish Faj, who, not so subtly had tried to rubbish my CD “Onyeka” inspite of the fact that it was adjudged to be a brilliant outing in 1992.

Mayor Akinpelu declared to all who cared to listen that he “could not stand Onyeka Onwenu” who according to him was indeed “finished”, as an Artiste. This was during the campaign for PMAN (Performing Musicians Association of Nigeria) Presidency, which pitted me against King Sunny Ade, in 1998. The Anti – Onyeka campaign continued with great intensity until I took a number of Entertainment Publications to court and won substantial amounts of money. These publications sought to damage my reputation. I was portrayed as a person of easy virtue, a prostitute, a trouble maker and an unserious Artiste. Hard to believe, is it not?

My crime was my audacity of purpose, outspokenness and insistence on being given my due respect. For displaying a modicum of self respect and restraint in my public conduct, I was labelled a snub, with the usual comment, “who does she think she is”.

Well, I was never one to back down from a challenge and I gave as good as I got. I made no apologies and I continued to be myself – self assured, focused and dedicated to my work. In due course and grudgingly, these journalists had no choice but to begin to show respect and appreciation for my person and my work.

In all these attacks, the most perplexing were the ones from a female journalist, the Queen of Junk, she was called, at the time. For some reason, she really had it in for me, other female Artistes and even fellow female journalists.

I had taken enough courses in psychology in college to realize that the attacks were coming from a sense of inadequacy, in herself. When her career of bitterness and vendetta took a nose dive and she couldn’t compete in an era where journalism of personal attack had lost its lure, I concluded that I was right.

And that brings me to Azuka Ogujiuba and Toni Payne.

Ms Toni Payne is my publicist and a young woman who impresses me with her zeal for work and excellent knowledge of the Nigerian Entertainment terrain with regards to what she does, which is publicism. She is respectful and conducts herself with decorum. She handles assignments with a seriousness that belies her young age. Ever since I came in contact with her, for the publicity of my Legend CD early this year, I have not ceased to be amazed by her appetite for work and sincerity of purpose.

To watch her pummelled on Azuka’s Saturday This Day column, week after week, and unnecessarily, has been a torture for me. Ms Payne has laughed off these obvious attacks but I am not prepared to do so.

In her article “A Blaze of Glory for Tuface”, in discussing the issue of Tuface’s Baby mothers and the “danger they portend to his career (an issue I most definitely do not want to delve into), Azuka manages, as usual, to draw in Toni Payne, whom she describes as a “Groupie”. This is for marrying the Artiste 9ice, I suppose. Hear Azuka, “Toni Payne who conspicuously falls into this category because of her undying and unimaginable love to be called “Celebrity” has finally created the biggest Rift or ‘BEEF’ as they say in the Nigerian Entertainment scene. Azuka goes on and on, wondering how Toni Payne could live with herself. She ends the tirade with this: “Some even suggest that 9ice’s decision to end their marriage was a smart move”.

My dear Azuka, if you have a thing for 9ice, why don’t you go after him and leave Toni Payne alone. You have become too obvious and deliberate in your attacks. This is not journalism but vendetta, unprovoked, unwarranted and unbearable for those of us who pay money to buy This Day on Saturdays.

Your Editor should now call you to order. Enough!

I had not intended to write this article. I had made a personal phone call to Ms Ogujiuba, to try and speak with her about her unrelenting attacks on Toni Payne. This is the conversation that ensued.

Me: “Hello! May I please speak with Azuka Ogujiuba?”

Azuka: Silence (there is some talking in the background).

Me: “Hello, my name is Onyeka Onwenu. Am I speaking to Azuka?”

Azuka: “Yes, what do you want?”

Me: “You seem not to know me but I really would like to talk with you about Toni Payne and the fact that…”

Azuka: Cuts in – “How did you even get my number?”

Me: “Oh I see that you are intent on being rude. Well, I will write your Editor instead. I don’t do rude” I switched off.

My song “One Love” has a line which says “living in the world is a struggle just staying alive” and that is true, particularly for a young, professional woman in Nigeria. The last thing she needs is a misdirected, ambitious and envious journalist, trying to put her down, ostensibly, because of her marriage choice.

I am not interested in Toni Payne’s private life and it is not my place to defend her choices but I do take exception to a journalist attacking someone for no good reason, particularly a woman. Azuka Ogujiuba, get a life and leave Toni Payne alone to live hers.

God bless you.

Onyeka Onwenu (MFR)

Femi Kayode.

Chief Femi Fani-Kayode was the spokesperson to President Olusegun Obasanjo; he subsequently became Minister of Tourism & Culture & later served as Aviation Minister for Federal Republic of Nigeria. He is currently vying for the position of Governor in Osun State (South-West, Nigeria).

This is why it is so important for us to learn about our history properly, to read as widely as possible and to do our own research before we just accept and believe whatever anyone may tell us about our past.  Chief Matthew Mbu is a man that I have  tremendous respect and affection for and he is undoubtedly one of our most eminent elder statesmen and nationalists. He is also a father to me so I do find it difficult to say what I am about to say. Yet the truth must be told no matter what and no matter whose ox is gored. And the truth is that the elder statesman’s assertion that Sir Tafawa Balewa, the former Prime Minister of Nigeria, was not murdered by soldiers and that he in fact died ofasthma is a sordid and shameful attempt at distorting history. It is nothing but historical revisionism.   

It is simply not true to say that Ifejuana did not kill Tafawa Balewa and that the man just died of an asthma attack after being abducted. The man was shot and his body was left to decompose. It is not true to say that there was no autopsy report. There was. After the body was found it was taken to LUTH and an autopsy was conducted by the head of the pathology department in that hospital. The findings were that he had been shot to death. Dr.Moses Majekodunmi, who was the Minister of Health at the time, can confirm this. After murdering Balewa in cold blood on the Abeokuta road Ifejuana fled to Enugu because by that time it was clear that the coup had failed. When he got to Enugu he met withChristopher Okigbo who he was very friendly with and Okigbo smuggled him out of the country from where he fled to Ghana. He later came back to Biafra and both he and Okigbo fought on the Biafran side during the war. Okigbo was killed at the war front and Ifejuana was executed by Ojukwu for plotting a coup against him too. Mbu is basing his assertion on reports that he was given by Christopher Okigbo. One wonders what he expected Okigbo to say other than that because not only was Ifejuana his best friend but he was also in the know and part of the conspiracy during that first coup. Of course he would not want to admit to anyone that Balewa was murdered by his best friend and co-conspirator. 

These men were cold blooded murderers and cowards and we must not let Mbu or anyone else attempt to revise history before our very eyes. Ifejuana not only shot Balewa after allowing him to pray but he also mutilated his body and left it to rot in the bush by the roadside. We owe it to Balewa, his family, all the others that were killed, abducted and brutalised on the night of Jan. 15th 1966 by Major Nzeogwu and his fellow mutineers and murderers that night, the Nigerian people, our children and posterity to let the truth be known. I also question the motives of Chief Mbu for telling this strange and ridiculous story which is nothing but a lie 44 years after the event. The next thing that people like that will tell us is that Sir Ahmadu Bello, Chief S.L. Akintola, Brigadier Maimalari, Brigadier Ademulegun and his 8 month pregnant wife, Col. Largema, Col. Sodeinde, Chief Festus Okotie-Eboh ,  Col. Yakubu Pam and all the others that were cut short that night died of the flu. This is so unfair and so disrespectful to the dead and their families. My own father was almost killed that night too and he was forced to witness the brutal murder of his friend S.L. Akintola, the former Premier of the west, by this same gang of wicked and heartless thugs. I remember the events of that time very well and I personally witnessed the events of what happened in our house when the soldiers came for my father too and took him away. 

If no-one else will tell the truth and set the record straight about these events, I certainly will. It was what those boys did that night that led to the northern officers counter/revenge coup of July 1966 in which General Ironsi, Colonel Fajuyi and 300 Igbo army officers were killed and it also led to the terrible pogroms of Igbo civilians in the north which in turn led to the civil war. These are terrible events from a terrible time and none of like to talk about it because it is painful and inflammatory. But the fact that we don’t talk about it does not mean that we should sit back and allow someone to revise history. We must set the record straight, we must never allow our people to forget what happened and we must always be courageous enough to come out and tell the truth. This is the only way that we can ensure that this sort of thing never happens again.  

If anyone has any doubts about what I have said here I urge them to please go and ask some of our most eminent elder statesmen who were very active at the time, who were deeply involved in governance then and who are still alive today like President Shehu Shagari, Dr.Moses Majekodunmi(the former  Minister of Health in the first republic who was a personal friend of Balewa’s and who was very close to him), Chief Richard Akinjide(the former Minister of Education in the fist republic), General T.Y. Danjuma, General Yakubu Gowon, President Olusegun Obasanjo, Alhaji Inua Wada(the former Minister of Defence in the first republic, Alhaji Maitama Sule and so many others. They can also read an excellent book which is Balewa’s biography titled “A Right Honorable Gentleman” and which was written by a British historian and colonial officer at the time by the name of Trevor West. For further confirmation they can also reach three of the most respected, objective, authoratative Nigerian historians and authors of this generation who are all, in my view, of the highest standard and who are all extreemly knowledgeable about the events of those days and our history generally.  They are Mr. Max Siollun, Mr. Ayo Akinfe (both of whom are based in and write from London) and Mr. Akin Ajose-Adeogun who is based in Lagos. 

There was also a formal investigation into the matter which was conducted by the Special Branch Department of the British police and they produced a report which confirmed the fact that Balewa had been shot by Ifejuana. I should also add that Mbu was the Foreign Minister for Biafra. So really what we are witnessing here is the questionable testimony of two Biafran sympathisers, Christopher Okigbo and Chief Mbu, who are trying to clean up the image of a cold blooded and ruthless murderer by the name of Major Emmanuel Ifejuana who was one of the most prominent officers of the Biafran army.  The truth is that Ifejuana’s hands were dripping with Nigerian blood before he died and for anyone to now try to absolve him of the murder of Tafawa Balewa or anyone else that he killed  is sad and unfortunate. Interestingly enough just as he betrayed his leaders in Nigeria and killed some of them, the same man betrayed the leader of Biafra,  Col. Odumegwu Ojukwu, too by planning a coup against him. He was caught and he was executed by firing squad. Treachery and homicidal tendencies were both in his blood.  

Adaobi

Adaobi Tricia Nwaubani is the author of I Do Not Come to You by Chance, a humorous novel set amidst the intriguing world of Nigerian 419 scams. I Do Not Come to You by Chance won a Betty Trask award, the Commonwealth Writers Prize for Best First Book (Africa), was a finalist for the Wole Soyinka Prize for Literature in Africa, and was named by the Washington Post as one of the Best Books of 2009. The book is published in Nigeria by Cassava Republic, and is now available in bookshops. She writes:

While working as the editor of élan, NEXT newspaper’s fashion and style magazine, I often had to deal with tantrums from designers who were upset about something another designer had done or said.

“She claimed in your interview that she was the one who first started designing clothes with African print,” was the most common complaint.  “Well, that’s a lie because I am the one who first started it!”

After hearing that same claim from at least a billion different Nigerian designers, one of my friends finally suggested a way to put an end to it all.

“Adaobi, why not just tell them that you were the one who first started it,” she said.

Indeed, she was right!

Long time ago, in my university days, I fell in love with African print.  Meanwhile, everyone else seemed to think it was only good for wrappers and traditional outfits.  For me, the fabric gained a completely new and stunning identity when I had it sewn into Western styles.  I also took a liking to braids, affixing beads to the plaits at the sides of my head to complete the chic Africana look.  But this favoured style of mine tended to attract querying glances from all and sundry, most of whom preferred T-shirts and buttock-length weaves.

“You dress like a white person,” many said, with amusement.

Probably because the ‘white people’ have a habit of valuing Africa’s despised resources.  Just as they did with our crude oil and artefacts, even when we had no idea how priceless those possessions were. Just as they do with many of our citizens who might have ended up as loafers and layabouts had they not fled abroad and become policymakers and professors.

Fast-forward to 12 years after my university days. Today, African print is suddenly the essence of African-ness and the height of patriotism.  Hmmm. I wonder who determines these things.

Dele Momodu

Bashorun Dele Momodu Below is a 2011 presidential aspirant, ThisDay ‘Pendulum’ Column writer and Ovation International Magazine Publisher.

Everywhere in the world, parliamentarians are the authentic representatives of the people. That’s why they are called members of Congress in the United States of America. They are a governing and law-making body. Members are usually respected and respectable.

They comprise the best and the brightest. The pedigree of every Congressman is expected to be impeccable, and never shrouded in mystery. Their participation in elections are subject, and subjected, to the most rigorous scrutiny. Every Congressman dreams of the bills he wants to sponsor. He prepares as if he’s going to war. The President knows he would be grilled on his pet project even by members of his own party. He has to be combat ready, and his weapons are sacred facts. Not some bags of money to bribe the law-makers. This is what dignity is all about.

In our clime, the story is different. Many of our legislators are dumped on us by some godfathers. Politics has nothing to do with credentials. Or achievement in public and private lives. Anyone can aspire to any post or position, even if he’s a stark raving illiterate. In fact, he stands a better chance if he knows nothing about what he’s been appointed for. It does not matter if he’s been a complete failure in life. What matters most is his ability to lie prostrate, lizard-like, and pay permanent obeisance to the fake Lords of the Manor.

Naturally, a powerful man who has emerged from that type of a warped process is not expected to be reasonable and incorruptible. He has to constantly pour libations to the gods of transient power. For such a man, power in itself is the beginning and the end. It is a matter of life and death. Complete upstarts are known to have been completely transfigured into important members of the society on attaining the highest positions of authority in the land. Nigerian politicians are of a special breed.

They live like emperors. They are supposed to be the servants of the people, but they do anything but serve. They are butts of jokes all over the world. They are easily recognised by their verbosity. Their love for wasteful spending is legendary. A particular fable has it that the day shame was being distributed Nigerian politicians were out of town. Since then, they have never had that important sense of shame. Nothing moves them. They are happy to steal public money and keep it in private accounts abroad. Nigerians love the whiff of cash and pay horrendous figures for any purchase at the drop of a hat. Money is never an issue; how to spend it is the problem. They are the most travelled human beings on earth. They love the glittering environment of Dubai, Hong Kong and Cape Town but are not interested in giving their own people the same quality of life at home.

What have we not said or written about the depressing existence of Nigerian politicians? Nothing has ever changed. In fact, they’ve been going from bad to worse. At a time the world economy has virtually collapsed, Nigerian politicians have refused to imbibe the spirit of frugality. Rather they have chosen to go on rampage. The latest report from our National Assembly is anything but cheering. Could it be true that some Senators are desperately seeking for a pay increase from N45 million to N90 million as quarterly allowance? It sounds stranger than fiction. I would have expected a pay-cut instead from patriotic leaders. Any politician who truly loves his country would do everything to keep its economy alive. The kind of money being spent on our politicians is one reason many are complaining that democracy is too expensive. Both the Federal and State legislators are known to have been less than charitable in the manner they allocated funds to themselves in the budgets. While the general populace continues to wallow in poverty and diseases, our politicians are swimming in opulence. There is nothing to suggest that they know that the world economy suffered a cataclysmic fall in 2008, and its after-shocks are still very much with us.

A life of service is a life of sacrifice. Those who want to live big should remain in private business. I doubt if any of our law-makers would have earned the kind of irrational remunerations they are demanding today while in private enterprise. If they did, my advice is for them to go back to whatever business they had before going into politics. No one begged them to go into politics. Why would they want to kill us all with their irrational and reckless demands? For how long shall we continue to tolerate these grossly insensitive human beings? My heart really bleeds for Nigeria. A country that has practically everything to make us the greatest nation on earth continues to be gang-raped by our politicians without mercy.

What makes the matter worse is the lack of visible results for all the money expended on our omnipotent leaders. Perhaps, we would have felt better if we got ample rewards for all the money being wasted by our leaders. The legislators who were expected to rescue us from executive rascality are probably worse and are certainly incapable of restoring hope to a wasteland such as ours. I’m under no illusion that they will change their ways soon. They are not likely to fight for the common good of all. They are not going to ensure that we have steady supply of electricity. They will never ask questions about why water cannot flow through our pipes despite billions of naira being pumped yearly into providing drinkable water for the populace.

This article was first published in his weekly column on Thisday called PENDULUM on Saturday June 19 2010.

Bez is a talented singer with Cobhams Asuquo’s CAMP and ‘highly recommended’ by fellow artistes.

bez

I’ve always given myself a huge pat on the back for my long term memory bank. Its sweetly on point but I can’t say the same for the short terms though, I mean who can’t remember what they had yesterday for lunch? My point exactly! So its really nothing special if everyone can do it.

So here I go remembering once again. Its my first day in pre-school, precisely pre-primary 2 ( this is the class you’re in right before your primary one). I step into the zones, my gear perfectly intact, which of course is my brightly colored backpack, my lunch box, and most importantly, my coo laid. No one ever misses coo laid. I’m greeted by gazing eyes and a nice looking teacher who i found had a rather interesting name, ”Aunty”. I’m guided to my little chair and was given my first rule, I had to let go of my gear for a while. I obeyed but that truncated my attention cos i had to keep a strict watch. Now the introductions started and they went pretty well. Everybody’s dad seemed to be a banker so I guessed mine was as well! now I was very much in the loop. Quite quickly as it had started,the interaction came to a halt. I had taken note of two major personalities. Blessing and Morenike. Blessing, because she was the most beautiful girl I had seen, and Morenike was the loudest. Morenike later became the class…well, let’s just say she was the nicest girl around. From then on, I knew that I would find this opposite gender an interesting work of art…after coolaid that is (who actually invented that? and Caprisone).
Moving on to primary one, Blessing remained the primary crush while the rest kept on fading to the background, that was actually my first lesson on focus. I tried all I could to get her, but she kept evading my well timed approaches. I even turned into a mini school father to her younger brother, but I guess that was my wrongest move. I told him a story about how a dude in school had a very bad fall and got his knee cap swallowed by the earth. I thought that was an amazing occurrence so I had to share, but it wasn’t well received. He got a bit delusional after that and started walking towards a white garment Church (still wondering why). Blessing found out I was responsible for his state, and my elevated hopes were demolished quite professionally. Since then, she never uttered a word to me, not even by the sea-saw!
That experience shaped the rest of my puppy love life. I was going to have none of it! I became a puppy gangster, brought toy machine guns to school for the legendary police and thief experience, refused to share my cake with non-loyalists (my mum baked so I had a non diminishing supply), I had my own click and became a major player in the noise makers league. Almost everybody knew my name ( I had two elder sisters in school by the way, plus we had a brand new peugeot 504 with a long antenna) and I was gunning for world domination. There was absolutely nothing stopping me. I lived this life for my next years till I got to primary 5.

Once again, my first day in school. I arrived primary 5 with a brand new uniform, brand new cortinas, ready for a brand new term. Stepped into the zones like i always do, but this time, I had a black bag, coke bottle nicely placed and of course my cake in a proper foil. Now I’m on a different p. Time to put the syrup on the pancake, I had to go out huge, this was Carlito’s way! I walk around during break as if to announce my presence…but then, I’m taken off guard. This time i didn’t need to have an introduction like I was in a networking meet. They say short dresses and skirts have made history in making men fall (maybe that’s where my love for the ”shorties” started). She was a gem from afar and errr… well, a bigger gem up close (law of approaching objects). I instantly fell for her but I couldn’t show it. it was too dangerous for my planned exit. Anyway, I had to dig up history about her and do it fast, there was no way I was going to let her slip through. Apart from the rather short ”Pina 4”, ( why on earth is it named that?), there was just something about her eyes that kept me entranced. I knew she would break the curse Blessing laid on me (how Ironic), it was too clear. i kept wondering where she had been all my life, maybe i was too busy with world domination. Anyway, she happened to be my friend’s sister ( one of the cake loyalists, can u imagine?) and that just concluded the runs. He put in a good word for me and that was all I needed. I was so in there. I started to bring up the remains of the ”mushyness” that had lingered in the hiatus to compose well written notes to keep this angel of mine. It worked quite well and I was back on track… or off track, as some ‘loyalists’ noticed a rather non accepted change. My focus finaly returned, I stopped the rubber bands, got my class swag back on and dropped other vices which I dare not mention, but police and thief had to stay… how else do you show how much of a man you can be?

World domination didn’t occur as I had wanted, and I obviously didn’t go out as i had planned either. Apparently, there was another geezer waiting for the slightest show of weakness. He seized the opportunity quite sharply but I could care less. I had my legendary sweet reign, and thinking of it, this dude has been waiting for a pretty loooong while. I just cared about one thing, I had found my Little Miss Sunshine.

I happened to bump into her recently, and here is an excerpt from a message I ‘facebook-ed’ her

”Back again to my memories…just remembering some things that happened way back, I’ll just list them. Now I dunno why I was so into u, even at that little age, but I always got a funny feeling weneva I saw u or passed by you. We hardly talked in skool if u can remember, maybe I was too shy or maybe u just made me speechless..- duno why!! Surely it cudnt be love cos at that age I dint expect to know what love was, but I sure did say that a lot in my notes! Lol. Which brings me to my first item.
1.We always sent notes to eachother, and I would patiently wait till I get home before reading them and then I would chew it or soak it in water to discard safely, I mean, I cudnt be caught “loving” it was too dangerous, lol.
One day, one of ur notes was nearly snatched away by my older cousin. She saw me reading it, tickled my life to make me let it go, but lai lai.
2.I remember someday u were standing just at the waiting area to go home, leaning on the barbed wire fence leading to the play ground, and I slot a note in ur hands, ur hands touched mine and it was phenomenal! Lol!( Can’t believe I’m doing this)
3.I always called from my land fone…and one day wen I cudnt get through to you, I almost cried…told Christian the next day in skool, he was disgusted…
4.I can’t remember how it actually ended…did it? If it didn’t, then technically, ure still my girlfriend, that ur guy is just standing in for me till I come and sweep you off ur feet to live happily ever after…I think dats how the story goes yea?
5.Err I wish I cud see you soon, end of story!”

Funke Akindele

Funke Akindele is an A list actress and Movie Producer.

I am FOREVER grateful to God for the grace and privilege to emerge as one of the celebrated entertainers in Nigeria. What I didn’t expect was the pressure and heartbreaks that often go hand in hand with so many blessings! Since the mega success of ‘Jenifa’ Movie brought me into the international limelight and opened some great doors for me, I have come to understand what mega stars have to deal with. The bad rumours, the misunderstandings, the second-guessing and the constant, and sometimes unrealistic, expectations from people sometimes just make me burst into tears.

There are times I dread reading some rag magazines/newspapers because I don’t know what new lies or rumours they are going to start about me. Yet, my managers insist that there is no need to challenge the bad press or take anyone to court. According to them, all this come with the territory since the press are also very instrumental in bringing me to stardom, it is not wise to fight them unless I really really have to. As mentioned, one of the most painful by-products of my stardom is that I have become fair target for many reporters, some of them very responsible, and some not so responsible, in their coverage of my life and career. I have read some unfair stuff about me in the newspapers that want to make me throw up with anger/disgust while I have also read some coverages that made me smile and laugh.

So, over time, I have learnt to take the good with the bad and just hope that somehow the more vicious reporters will get to be more merciful as time progresses, while I continue to appreciate and pray for the ones who report good things about me. I have experienced some serious sadness and discomfort in many areas as a star, while I have also had some pure joy and meaningful relationships and cooperation from places that I never thought I would be able to influence. For instance I have enjoyed enormous support from some First Ladies like the first Lady of Lagos who have who have been gracious enough to allow me to contribute to their charitable causes and programs.

The joy of contributing to my community makes all the other unpleasant aspects of stardom worth it! I loved working on the AIDS and the Homeless Projects with the government and hope for more opportunities to be relevant in my generation All in all, I have come to appreciate the goodness of God in my life, take the good with the bad and just enjoy it all. Regardless of the negative sides of it all, it is always much better and more fulfilling to be an international star making a positive change in society than a struggling actress!

…Funke Akindele

Afrocandy

Singer Afrocandy addresses critics of her song and video for ‘Ikebe na money‘. Judith ‘Afrocandy’ Mazagwu combines acting, producing, singing and modelling with a job as medical billing and coding specialist. The single mother is a very legal citizen of the US. The song and video for ‘Ikebe na money‘ almost immediately raised a stir when it released.

It’s time to set the record straight about my video Ikebe Na Moni. First of all I want to talk to my critiques, I guess you guys think I am not smart enough to allow you criticisms get to me right? Well, I have to tell you that you are all wasting your time, losing your sleep, instead of getting off your computers to look for something else to do. You’re ranting, cursing and wining would never change a thing as it cannot stop me from doing music. I went through most websites and saw most of the comments posted on them, they are rather harsh and I tell you, it only take a very strong heart to survive in the Nigerian Music industry.

I’ve heard and watch a couple of talented Artists, most of them who tried to branch into music from acting just drop their God’s given talent , wind up and go all because of criticisms. I will not fall out like that for your information, I am here to stay and if you do not like my style, I can tell you that it’s a “Free Ride” you either shut up and enjoy the “Ride” or get out, it’s not by force.

Again, the message on my song/video is not telling anybody to go on and prostitute themselves or sell themselves cheap, it only advising most African ladies that do not know how to use what God has given to them which is the “Ikebe” (butt). For instance, when I was shooting the video for my first single, I met a young lady of about 25 yeas of aga in a retail store; she had two kids with her and I learnt they were her kids. The lady was biracial and she had one of the most beautiful curved bodies I have ever seen in my life. I approached her to use her in my video but she rejected my offer saying, “Ooooooh my boyfriend would kill me”. I was like ‘who is your boyfriend and where is he?‘ Not knowing that the Crack-head-looking guy beside her was the guy. From my own standing, that guy had no future and he is about to waste the beautiful thing like that if no one comes to her rescue soonest. If he had the opportunity to listening to my Song and follow my advice, she would at least have ended up with a better guy and I presume she knows how to work her ‘Ikebe’ to have giving birth to 2 kids already at 25.

Another instance, I would not call names here but I have some African girlfriends who told me, they never “go down” or “give heads” to their men. What would you call that? To me it’s not civil and ignorance. They live like that with their miserable lives complaining every time that their men don’t give them cash or buy them gifts, that their men go out chasing “Akata”[other women]. Who is resposible…..eh? You brought it upon yourselves.

So my people, we need to grow up, wisen up and learn instead of standing in the way of civilization. Take my advice and work ‘what your Mama gave you’ and see what happens. I am talking from experience because I’ve been there done that. When I was married, I worked with mine and any night I performed well, I got whatever I wanted from my HUSBAND the next morning.

Let me tell you something, Men are Not stupid!

Ok enough said so far. Let me introduce myself to most of you that do not know me.

My name is Judith Opara Mazagwu a.k.a. Afrocandy. I was born into the family of Late Nze Ogadimma Opara and Agatha Opara of Umuduruebo Ugiri-ike in Ikeduru Local government area of Imo state, Nigeria on July 12, 1971 and I will be 39 years old by July. I am proud to say my age anywhere, anytime and any day because I don’t look it and most people don’t believe me when I say it. I am an actress, model, script and song writer, a performing artist, who writes her own songs and beats, an independent producer, a medical billing and coding specialist. I also have an associate degree in Office Administration and an undergraduate of Bachelor of Science in Business management. I am a trained fire guard/security officer, the CEO of INVISIBEL TWINS PRODUCTIONS LLC and above all, I am a single mother of two beautiful girls. I am a humble, down to earth, friendly, intelligent, hard working and career oriented woman. I migrated to the United States of America. A beautiful country that gives you the opportunity to be what you want to be and I travelled with my Legal documents (Green Card). I have never committed a crime, I keep my hands straight but you can bet I’ll do anything for Showbiz which is what I love to do. So you can call me a “Jack of All Trade”

By His grace, my album of 8 tracks has been released online and you download it from my website: www.Afrocandymusic.com

Chude Jideonwo

How young Nigerians began the movement that just might change their country

“Imagine what would have happened if you had hesitated from clicking the ‘send’ button on that first mail?” My friend, the IT whiz Gbenga Sesan, asked me just a few days before the rally that resounded around Nigeria. “Thank you for taking the challenge.”

People always talk about ‘taking the first step’. It’s now an annoying cliché. But then, like almost all clichés, it is also a true one.

I have what I think is a healthy distrust for spontaneity. It is infinitely better, in my opinion, for things to be planned, structured, with systems and processes, maybe even focus groups and polls, before decisions are made. I fight my spontaneity as frequently as it comes. I subordinate it to the will of process.

But, this one time, spontaneity was a blessing.

I had just gotten back into the country. I had been away for three weeks and part of the subconscious strategy for the unusually long stay was that by the time I returned, the days of spending a fortune buying fuel for car and generator after heavily tipping the mechanic to help join the frustrating queues would have ended.

But then I came back, and on my first drive, I noticed. There were still queues! My anger was immediate and it was visceral. What rubbish! This fuel situation had lasted five months now, I turned to remind my friend, the travel expert Shade Ladipo, who I had just picked from home. What kind of country was this? Why were they taking us for granted? What was the NLC saying? What was NANS doing? Why this shameful silence? Why weren’t we in the streets, angry, threatening, taking it no more?

We have to do something, I said to her, as I made the turn under the Maryland Bridge. We have to organise a protest. Get young people who wouldn’t normally take to the streets to do so and prove that they are angry. We need to go beyond Twitter and Facebook and Blackberries. We need to show that things cannot continue like this. Young people should be angry!

God bless Shade. Her answer came without hesitation. Yes let’s do something, she said. I’m game.

Luckily, we were off to a meeting with other young professionals, and by the time we arrived, I had a plan. March to Abuja we would. I would call some of my friends who are influential in different fields; I would inform them of the urgency of the matter. They would lead their platoons. We needed to act now.

Expectedly, there were doubts. What would it achieve? Would ‘they’ listen? Would people turn up? Would ‘they’ take young people seriously? Since we were not “professional” activists, what experience would we use to make this work? How would we gain momentum? Would young people be fired up?

I didn’t care. Something had to be done. It would be better to do something than nothing. I left the venue – Planet One – in Lagos, more convinced than ever. Young people could do this. And we would.

That is how I came by sending the email to which Gbenga referred. Indeed, Gbenga didn’t know how close he was to the truth. I had in fact hesitated. It took hours to write the mail – writes and rewrites – and when I tried to send it, the inevitable second thoughts swarmed about me. I was worried about the perception problem for me and for my organisation. We are brand managers, not activists. I do not like the image of the angry Nigerian. I had a job and a business to protect. Marketing and sponsorship director have no use for politics. Neither did I.

There were many challenges: not just the risk to self and brands, but also the huge logistics, time, money, energy, resources, contacts that would be borne. This, in a life already swamped with work. The reasonable thing was not to do this. But I refused to be reasonable. This was a call that needed to be answered. This had to be done. It’s something we say to at The Future Project. If not us, who? If not now, when?

The mail was titled ‘Where is the outrage?’ It contained all my anger, all my frustration, and all my longing. I clicked send.

The next two weeks were a rush of activity. A first meeting with the Resource Group of The Future Project was used as a focus group for the protest. The response was electric. Let’s do this! This might have been an idea that flowed from me, but for it to work it couldn’t belong to me. The coalition expanded. And then kept expanding. There were meetings, there were meetings and there were meetings.

I had two choices for a name: ‘Where is the outrage?’ or ‘Enough is Enough’. I preferred ‘Where is the outrage?’, but others said Enough is Enough would resonate more. We chose it. I wanted a date a month away, others said it was too far. We needed to channel the anger following Turai Yar’Adua’s smuggling of her husband into Nigeria – now. Two weeks time, they said. The National Assembly Plenary was on Tuesdays. March 16, my friend Cheta insisted. I said okay.

The date was chosen. It was also the date of my 25th birthday. I saw the hand of God.

I descended Abuja that Tuesday morning with some of the others, filled with a certain excitement. There no was doubt that this was going to be historic. We arrived at the Eagle Square to meet a battalion of more than 300 policemen – enough to drive the fear of God into us obviously.

Then, as we ignored them and got ready, something beautiful happened. A most beautiful rainbow surrounded the sun on a clear Tuesday morning. It was beautiful. It lifted our spirits. It was a seal of approval. The hand of God. The hand of God.

I hadn’t expected to be at the forefront of the procession. I had never led a protest. I didn’t even know what songs to lead. But as the match began, a series of events thrust the microphone in my hand, and I had to lead.

As I turned to face the crowd under the sun, who had left their jobs and their school to risk the unknown and march for their future, something happened to me. The lull from strategy and organising that I had been in left, and it was replaced by a knot of rage in my stomach. My girlfriend told me later that my eyes were almost scary. I was enraged, she said. Yes, I was. This was our country dammit! Enough is enough, I screamed. They all screamed back. We were fired up!

We marched to the Assembly. They stopped us from going in; and so we sat down. For two hours, we sat, we sang, we cursed. Then we got angry. So we stood up and we pushed. Pushed against men with batons and tear gas and firepower. We pushed them aside, as iconic pictures in all national newspapers the next day showed. We held the National Assembly hostage for 4 hours. Brought them to their knees. The legislators fled. We jeered. This was how they would cower until we forcefully take our country back from them, starting from 2011.

Enough is enough, we screamed. Finally, young Nigerians get angry, our banner read.

Five hours after, we declared victory – for that day at least. The Senate leadership had sent us a representative that we regarded as an insult. We ignored him and we marched away. We would be back, we promised. We would be back.

As I write, watching yet another broadcast on the rally showing on CNN, thousands of young Nigerians in Nigeria and outside are fired up – many inspired by this move. Everyday there are emails, calls, smses, everything. People are grateful that a group of people are leading the charge, speaking their minds. Those that say Nigerians have given up on Nigeria are fools, sorry.

People want change and they are ready to work for it. They are so eager to be a part of this movement; to support it. This may well be the movement – groups like ours and the Save Nigeria Group – that changes Nigeria; it is too early to say. But cynics and naysayers be damned, it is better than nothing.

That beautiful day, as we sat for debriefing at the Eagle Square, just after the rally ended, minutes after I led the protesters away, shouting myself hoarse through the truck’s microphone, my friend, the music producer Alex Yangs, who was at that fateful Planet One meeting, turned to me and said: Can you imagine Chude? From that our small meeting – just 7 of us – at Planet One?

I was completely knackered by this time. The day had taken all of my strength. But I was happy; proud of my generation. I nodded to him. And then I smiled.

It’s the power of ideas, I had told Gbenga as we talked online. But he responded: No. No? No, he repeated, and then he came back at me with the most profound of statements I had heard in a while. It’s not just the power of ideas, he said. It is the power of ideas that are let out of the bag.

Gbenga was right. What use is an idea if you don’t act on it?

Many decades from now; when I tell the story of how Nigeria changed to my children and their children after them; I will remember that fateful day in the car, and I will remember that day at Planet One, and I will remember that push at the National Assembly. I will thank God that I didn’t let that idea die a natural death.

I will thank God for giving me the strength to push the ‘send’ button.

Chude Jideonwo is a celebrated winner, copy editor, publicist, producer and creative director of  RedSTRAT Communications and the mastermind of the Enough is enough caolition.