Multi-talented artiste, Akeem Lasisi, talks to FATTEH HAMID about the role and impact of poetry in Nigerian society and his upcoming poetry art exhibition titled, ‘African Citation’, among other issues
You were an award-winning journalist with several years of experience before your full switch to the arts. Can you recount the experience that gave you clarity on what you wanted to pursue?
The journey wasn’t actually like that. It wasn’t that linear. I have almost always simultaneously been both a journalist and poet. That is why some refer to me as a ‘journartist’. After youth service in 1993, for instance, I got a job with the now-defunct Daily Sketch. I left when the paper was shut down by the military because of its stand against the annulment of the June 12, 1993 presidential election. I migrated to Lagos where I got a teaching job with Victory Grammar School, Ikeja. I later taught at Providence Heights Secondary School, Iju-Agege. I am mentioning these names because it was while teaching there that I started experimenting with performance poetry alongside my pupils. Well, I started writing poems when I left Obafemi Awolowo University, Ile-Ife, in 1991. But it was after graduation that the performance started – solo and group.
By 1999, I joined The Diet and later journeyed through The Comet, The News/Tempo and The PUNCH, where I ‘retired’ in 2018. It was during this teaching/journalism ride that poetry also blossomed. I was a teacher when I released my first poetry album – ‘Post Mortem’, for MKO Abiola. I was at The Comet when I got my first collection of poems, ‘Iremoje: Ritual Poetry for Ken Saro-Wiwa’ published. I was still with The PUNCH when my third collection, ‘Night of my Flight: The Poetry of a Lady About to Wed’, was published. It was also actually during my Punch life that I released three major albums – ‘Ori Agbe for Wole Soyinka’, ‘Wonderland: Eleleture’ and ‘Udeme: Constituency Project’ – alongside their videos that did very well globally. I had to go so much into history to show that journalism and my poetry have always co-existed.
How did I do it? The tortoise says each time it is strolling beside a groundnut plantation, it just finds groundnut cracking inside its mouth. How the nut gets in there, it doesn’t know, according to Mr Tortoise. I, however, always remember how a former programme officer at the Ford Foundation, Aida Opoku-Mensah, introduced me when I was about to perform at one of their events: a journalist by day, and poet by night. The combination may not be that straightforward, but it captures the intrigue in a way.
With over three decades of experience as a performing poet and releasing five musical poetry albums, how would you describe the acceptability of poetry in Nigeria?
If you mean conventional written modern poetry, I will say it’s far from being popular. Not like prose – novels (Pacesetters, Hadley Chase series, etc.), drama, film, music, comedy, skits, etc. Poetry is more of an academic exercise as far as many people are concerned. The main reason is that it comes in an elevated language, which some simply see as unduly difficult and mysterious. As a result, the ‘English’ poetry is more of a school thing. However, my experience has been different because I have tried to liberalise it. I don’t make it cheap, but I try to make it human, humane and friendly. I first try to bridge the gap between the consumer and me.
That is why I don’t read my poem; I chant it. I perform it. I take it to the stage with drums, songs, drummers, dancers and singers around me. I take it to the studio and record it the way musicians do their art. Then I lure my team to locations where we shoot poetry videos. We then take the products to where other entertainers take theirs too – TV, social media, etc. It is at a huge cost but this is what I try to do. My vision is to make poetry as entertaining as any other popular art to win more audience for it. Poets say a lot of beautiful, educative and inspiring or moving things, but when people cannot or fail to read or listen to our works, they will not be able to appreciate our missions.
My style is not too strange, as it is an offshoot of what is obtainable in the Yoruba oral heritage. The ijala, esa egungun, ekun iyawo, ege and iyere chanters are oralists. They are performers and are very popular among the people. Their success is part of what inspired me to bring the traditional and modern together. You can imagine how successful the likes of Ajobiewe, Yemi Elebuibon, Olanrewaju Adepoju, Ogundare Foyanmu, Odolaye Aremu, and Foyeke Ajangila are among the people. These are my hidden role models, with poet laureate, Prof Niyi Osundare, being my bridge and most impactful mentor.
You’re known for using your poetic works to contribute to politics and governance. How impactful do you think this has been over the years?
It’s usually not too easy to measure the impacts of art on society. It can be gradual, indirect and unpredictable. For instance, as phenomenal and compelling ‘Things Fall Apart’ is, you may still not be able to itemise the impact it has made; yet, it has made a lot. It, after all, is not like GSM. The fact that people largely accept my poetry is the biggest accomplishment I have. But if I have to underline the politics of it, a song or video like ‘Udeme’ has made a lot of sense. It is a satire, a poem talking about serious politics, attacking corruption, but coming in the guise of romance. Even governors, ministers, lawmakers and many others love it, yet it is an indirect shot in the back. I remember a day ‘Udeme’ was on air on DSTV. A senator called me from Abuja and asked: ‘Akeem, are you wooing this girl or you are abusing us?’ We both laughed.
In today’s world, some people see poetry as less profitable, thus, giving it zero or no relevance as against what it was in the past. What is your take on this?
I think I somehow answered this a while ago. In terms of profitability, however, it is neither here nor there. Many of us have released volumes of poetry that didn’t fetch money because a lot of people don’t touch poetry – apart from the fact that folks are generally allergic to books. Yet, in this same country, a good number of our poets have won prizes as huge as the Nigeria Prize for Literature with a single collection, laughing all the way to the bank with $100,000 each. On the other hand, those of us who have been performing and going multimedia with it cannot really say it is never profitable.
One of your most popular poetry videos, ‘Ekun Iyawo’, details the poetic performance of a bride in Yoruba land on the eve of her wedding. The culture of ‘Ekun Iyawo’ is almost becoming extinct. Do you see it that way?
You are surely right. The genesis of the work borders on the fear that the genre is almost extinct. I started by conducting research in the Ikirun/Osogbo area in 2001 to know if ekun iyawo was still popular. I found out that it is no longer part of our marriage tradition and it is the case in many parts of Yorubaland where it used to be popular. The only town that provides a consolation is Shao in Kwara State, where it is still part of the Awon Festival of mass weddings. It is the urge to bring ekun iyawo back one way or the other that made me attempt to recreate it, teaching young ladies, taking it into the studio and taking it back to TV, with the support of star actresses like Kabirah Kafidipe and Feyikemi Niyi-Olayinka. I am happy that it did well on air and YouTube and is spreading again – at least in schools.
Your upcoming project titled, ‘African Citations’ is a poetry art exhibition of poetic tributes to selected leaders in Africa. How did you conceive this idea and why do you think it is important to pay tributes to the individuals?
Because I perform poetry at events, I have a growing bank of poetic tributes. Besides, people inspire me one way or the other. I celebrate values in people, places and nature. Prof Osundare, in a poem, instructively says poetry is man meaning to man. This is apart from the fact that my new project is rooted in the Yoruba’s oriki poetic tradition. I do this a lot; I experiment with Yoruba’s oral poetry. I did this in ‘Iremoje’, my collection for Saro-Wiwa. In ‘Wonderland’, I experimented with ijala, while I tried to recreate ekun iyawo in ‘Night of My Flight’.
Some also deliberately request poems, with a good number of them commissioned. I believe it is good to celebrate excellence and good deeds. Life is not just about criticism and abusing one another. There will always be opportunities or other avenues to do that, even in poetry. But you can make others learn from the positive things some are doing. Again, the celebration of a good deed is a condemnation of a bad one.
Of course, I compose for people from afar. I would have celebrated them in poems written, recorded and shot into film without them knowing. At a point, the thought came that I should share this in a way. I have had some personal encounters with some of the subjects, but the idea that gives me succour mostly is the one that crystallised into ‘African Citations’. With the event, I can now have an annual poetry show bringing people together, enriching performance culture and saluting folks who are the salt of humanity.
Will ‘African Citations’ be only about tributes or are there other works that will be showcased at the event?
I will unveil three new poetry albums at the event. These are ‘Orere: A Gift of Poems’, in the entertaining family of ‘Eleleture’ and ‘Udeme’; and the two albums of the poems dedicated to the personalities in the ‘African Citations 01’. My older works will also be on display.
Out of all the works you’ve performed, which one is your best and why does it stand out among the others?
It is difficult to say which is the best. I can only recall the unique impact that some of them made. When I performed at a literary programme in celebration of the 70th birthday of the late Chief Bola Ige in 2000, my tribute to him gripped him so much that he nearly fell as he walked towards me on stage, coming to show appreciation. The lines practically made the old man look like a slender tree in a powerful storm. When he eventually reached me, he embraced me for about five minutes, silently praying for me in the Ijesha dialect. The applause roaring from the audience is still echoing in my ears right now.
My performance at a literary evening organised to mark the 50th birthday of Mr Akwasi Aidoo, a former West African Director of the Ford Foundation, was so successful that it won the foundation’s heart for me for bigger things. It invited me to its office on Victoria Island at that time and asked me what project of mine it could support. That was how it funded my research that gave birth to the first documentary and book on ekun iyawo.
Lastly, my opening performance at the 2003 edition of Poetry Africa in Durban, South Africa, seemed so amazing that the poster slam poet at the event, Bob Holman, who attended from New York, USA, accused me of using juju (charm) to perform poetry. It took him days to come to terms with the fact that poetry can be performed the way I do.
Some people believe that the break in relationship between the old and new generations of poets is a major reason for the lack of depth in the works of new poets. Do you also share the same view?
This can be partly true. There is a disconnect in many places. The new have a lot to learn from the old – though the old too cannot afford to look down on emerging forces. Let me also add that many young people are cut away from our culture and tradition, which are supposed to be a good foundation of what they write. One is not saying they should not exploit new metaphors or that everybody should be doing the same kind of poetry. That would be suicidal. Yet, a writer will gain a lot by exploring their roots to power their talents. Imagine ‘Things Fall Apart’ without the Igbo language and culture. Imagine ‘Death and the King’s Horseman’ without Yoruba oral tradition. Imagine an Osundare without a compelling mastery of his linguistic environment. Imagine Flavour without Igbo, or Olamide without Yoruba, and, indeed, afrobeats without our tribal and national linguistic nuances. I think it will be beneficial to reflect our cultural and linguistic identities in our works.
While poetry is not as widely accepted as it used to be in the past, there are young poets across Nigeria with a burning passion for poetry and art. What advice do you have for them?
There are, indeed, many vibrant young poets in Nigeria. They have asserted themselves globally and are making use of digital technology. The spoken word is getting bigger gradually, though a lot still needs to be done. We need to deepen our content and language use without getting unduly obscure. Also, we all need to work together. We need to collaborate here and there and work with people from other entertainment zones. If we can push things and get the necessary support, performance or spoken poetry can become the next big thing in Nigeria after Nollywood, comedy, afrobeats and skits.
