FORGET the lyrics. They were not meant to inspire. Don’t mind the boisterous choreography; it is not meant to be the main attraction. Concentrate on the message and its delivery – short, sharp and arresting.
A man backs the camera, a ray of green light comes up behind him and, suddenly, the man faces you, amid a flood of yellow light. He begins to fling his hands and shuffles his feet, singing and screaming: “I don port o! I don port o! I don port o!”
The message is simple and clear. He says he has – thanks to the new number portability – moved from one mobile service provider to another. That simple message – and its purveyor – has been the subject of a massive debate in social, business and intellectual circles. Everything has been thrown into the fray. Expediency. Professionalism. Expertise. And more.
Was Saka wrong to have dumped Etisalat? How are the marketing experts at Etisalat feeling now? Should Saka have gone the way he did, telling the world that his marriage – was there any? Experts insist there was none – to that network was over? Why the divorce? Cash? What mileage for MTN?
Nigerian comedians have come a long way. Consider Moses Olaiya Adejumo (aka Baba Sala) with his plywood bow tie, oversized sun glasses and expansive trousers. The colonial master’s hat, the table clock strapped onto his wrist and the ubiquitous umbrella in his hands. He made everybody laugh and laugh until our eyes turned red with tears. Baba Sala gave comedy his all – his youthful days, intellect and energy – and lost it all in the course of pursuing this all-consuming passion. He invested all he had in a movie, which got pirated. He lost all, ending up in penury.
Today’s comedians are in a new world. No funny costumes and faces daubed with some black powder. They are decked out in sharp Oxford Street suits. Ali Baba. Holy Mallam. Tee A. AY. Basket Mouth. Julius “the genius” Agwu. Teju Babyface. The witty and immensely talented Gbenga Adeboye of blessed memory.
There are also Sunday Omobolanle (aka Papiluwe), master of repartee, rambunctious Babatunde Omidina (aka Baba Suwe), the one who got the drug agency issuing bulletins every time he moved his bowel after being wrongly held for peddling drugs, and Bolaji Amusan (aka Mr Latin) and his friend Yomi King (aka Opebe) who insists on being an auto mechanic despite his bad hand. Nkem “Osofia” Owoh, Gringory and Chuka Okpala (Zebrudayya). And many more.
Of them all, none has recently sparked a huge debate like Hafiz Oyetoro, popularly known as Saka, the face of the MTN mobile number portability campaign. The contentious issues are as intellectual as they are moral. Saka was the lead act in an Etisalat campaign. Then the Nigerian Communications Commission (NCC) introduced number portability – another controversy on its own – and the networks mounted a huge marketing drive to keep their subscribers and/or get more.
The handlers of the Etisalat advertisement have said that when they were working on the script, they were looking for a character. Saka walked in for the auditioning and he was found to be fit for the role. In the MTN campaign, it is a different matter. A celebrity was needed; an easily recognisable face. Saka fitted the bill, having been a well known face on television.
The rumour in town is that MTN paid Saka in millions. Etisalat, said those who claim to know, paid in thousands. Saka simply showed that there is a difference between a comedian and his jokes. Jokes apart, a comedian is no joker when it comes to cash. The cash was right and Saka “ported”. Isn’t there a Saka in all of us?
Nobody should begrudge Saka his success. He has worked hard for it. A man who studied and teaches Theatre Arts, he never looked for a banking job, like many of today’s graduates. He simply practised what he learnt. He is excited doing his job.
Now, many other professionals are envious of Saka. When will doctors begin to earn millions –and some respect from nurses who claim that they are on a par with them? Will policemen ever be well paid for their exertions? Will teachers get their due? Will reporters ever get a good – and prompt – pay?
The world of comedians is a strange one. They work hard to keep us all laughing. And how hard it is to make people laugh in Nigeria, a country that is, ironically, blessed with frontline comedians, even in high places. Former President Olusegun Obasanjo, writing a foreward to Ali Baba’s book, wondered why the comedian would malign people who pay him to entertain them. To him, Ali Baba is an example that democracy is working.
The former President recalled a meeting with Zimbabwean Robert Mugabe, who complained that a Nigerian said when he (Mugabe) was asked by the BBC what the damage was after a fire at the electoral commission’s office, he replied by saying “ apart from the structural damage, the only thing that was lost was the result of next year’s election”. Obasanjo said he assured Mugabe that the man, whom he was sure must be Ali Baba, meant no harm.
An Egyptian television satirist, Bassen Youssef , was recently charged to court for insulting President Mursi. The United States issued a statement, saying it was worried about “disturbing trend of growing restrictions on freedom of expression”. Can we then say Obasanjo is tolerant? I dey laugh o!
How do you make people laugh in a country where many go to bed without food, where youths pound the streets looking for jobs that are not there, where insurgents have seized some parts of the country by the throat, where leaders do not serve but only expect to be served and where armed robbers waste lives daily.
American comedians and their European counterparts are lucky; they do not need to work too hard. It is easier to make people laugh in such climes where hunger and disease have been conquered, the moon is within reach and life expectancy is high. Electricity, water and good roads are taken for granted. Why won’t they laugh?
Where is the inspiration for jokes in a country where fraud has become a way of life? Billions of pension funds are gone for good, stolen by criminals in official circles who are backed by men in the corridors of power. The President has said the corruption stories are exaggerated. Is that to be taken as a joke? A presidential joke? A gaffe?
For Nigerians, the inspiration for jokes could come from overseas and any subject, including soccer. Consider this that a friend sent to me by telephone:
“Crusade!Crusade!!Crusade!!
“Dortmund Christian Ministry, in conjunction with Bayern Church of God, invites you to a two-day power packed crusade tagged “Destroying all Spanish Giants &Goliath (Part 2) Featuring: Breaking of curses (EL Classico); Freedom from powers Platini); .Humiliation of pride (Jose Mourinho);.Overpowering principalities (Lionel Messi); Achieving your destiny and reaching your goals (Wembley).
“Host Pastor: Rev. Robert Lewandowski.
Ministering; Pastor and Elder Arjen Robben, Apostle Thomas Mueller, Pastor Marco Reus& other anointed men of soccer.
Ushers; Bro Messi and Bro Ronaldo.
Come for a power packed display as all giants will be knocked out of your life forever.
“Come one, come all!”
Do ritual killers and armed robbers enjoy jokes? Have Boko Haram leaders ever found an occasion for laughter? Do kidnappers, who snatch kids, women and nonagenarians, ever share jokes? If they do, how do they laugh? Loud and clear? Guffaw? Or they just cackle like demented birds? Or with a gruff, like a hemp smoking motor park tout?
A comedian’s life is a study in complexity? How does he create jokes? Doesn’t he have family problems that could take his minds off those rib crackers? In other words, how does he fall into the right mood to deliver those lines that keep the audience reeling and rolling? How?
Just how many Nigerians, dazed by the vicissitudes of life in an Orwellian setting like ours – poverty, disease, hunger, insecurity, illiteracy and all such headache – still find that inner sensation that triggers laughter.
How we all wished we could laugh always, considering laughter’s benefits as a stress reducer and a kind of anti-depression therapy? Is the atmosphere – the looting and killings – conducive to laughter? In other words, dear reader, be honest, when last did you laugh?
