There is a bar called Under The Tree just a short walk from Benin’s Samuel Ogbemudia Stadium and, 24 hours before the Rema Homecoming, locals are chatting excitedly about what a concert like this represents for the city and its residents. The city has a distinct energy as it welcomes guests far and wide, saying, “We are glad to have you here with us for a Benin party.”

At odds with the sticky heat of Lagos, there is still torrential rainfall in Benin. It rains heavily for much of the day of Rema’s homecoming concert. Still, the rains start to let up around 6 p.m., becoming a playful drizzle just in time for the show to begin as workers and security operatives start to sort entry into the stadium. Inside the stadium, the floodlights splash on the stage and the bleachers as people come in ready to have an evening of fun and celebration. In little to no time, we have a full venue packed to the rafters while other enthusiastic fans stay outside the stadium to catch a glimpse of their favourite stars. 

It’s time for Rema’s big homecoming. 

The Samuel Ogbemudia Stadium in Benin is a unique kind of monument of the city’s culture. It doesn’t have the regal grace of the Oba’s Palace which is about 13 minutes away, or the earthy spectacle of the Benin Moat that once encircled ancient Benin; but make no mistake, the Samuel Ogbemudia Stadium is a heaving, breathing wonder in its own right. The 39-year-old stadium deals exclusively in hope and dreams, rising out of Stadium Road as a symbol of the dogged resilience of Benin people, while housing the memories of their sporting history – both triumphs and bruising losses. On the night of Friday, August 30th 2024, the stadium was fulfilling another role: playing host to one of Benin – and Edo State’s – most illustrious sons, Rema. 

Anyone who has followed Rema’s career since his activation a little over five years ago can easily see the importance of Benin to the Mavin star. His avatar, a bat, is inspired by the winged creatures that decorate Benin’s skyline at night; there is lore inspired by his Bini heritage stitched into various parts of his oeuvre; and as he has taken his music across the world, he has unapologetically brought the history, stories, and struggles of his people to a wider audience. Last year, at his Ravage Uprising concert in London, Rema came on stage in costume that referenced Benin war regalia while donning a mask that paid tribute to the iconic Queen Idia. 

There is something compelling about the narrative of a young boy–fresh at the gate of superstardom–desperately holding on to where he is from on the global stage when there’s the temptation to cleave to a more Western-influenced identity in the wake of unprecedented material success. It is nigh-on bravery to cling to your city and love it for what it is when your come-up coincides with a barren run for the city creatively, even if it is the hometown of the peerless Sir Victor Uwaifo or the rainmaker, Majek Fashek. With Rema, you get the sense that it was Benin or nothing. There was no alternative plan to anchor his identity anywhere but home. You see it in the reverence he has for his Benin, the Oba, and the mischievous energy that animates his hometown. 

For years, Rema has been hinting about returning home to reconnect with his people after years of pushing his music to a global audience. From Lagos to New Delhi to Paris and Berlin, he has felt the love of fans enamoured by his art and the melodies he spends hours working on. Back home, though, it hits different: The people love Rema because he’s Divine Ikubor. They love him because he speaks with the distinct twang that Benin residents speak with: a little forceful at the beginning to establish that they are indeed serious,and then dragged out near the end to show a more sentimental side. Benin people love Rema because he is of them and they can imagine having walked past him all those years ago on Ekehuan Road. It’s the sort of love that money could never buy; it runs deep because it is publicly proclaimed and mutually affirmed. 

The truth of the matter is that Benin, too, has been waiting on Rema for years. He’s the local boy done good who still retains ties to where he is from and, this year especially, in the midst of a serious economic and cost of living crisis, the city desperately needed something to cheer. The people needed their hero to come and give them a spectacle for the ages. Something to hold on to, a memory to cherish longer after the night has passed. 

 

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The opening section of the show is dedicated to supporting Indigenous Benin acts as they take turns to thrill the packed stadium and introduce themselves to a wider audience. Light projectiles are launched on stage as the crowd bays for Rema but they have to wait through promotional performances and talent shows from corporate sponsors. When the time comes for him to perform, a black curtain on stage drops to reveal him emerging on stage from a bat cave, sending the stadium into a shrilling frenzy. The first song performed is “MARCH AM,” the opening track on his recently-released sophomore album, ‘Heis.’ Released in July, ‘Heis’ is a wonder of minimalism and energy; there is not a second wasted or note that sounds errant – it all works in service of Rema’s grand vision to bring Afrobeats into life. 

A lot has been said about how Rema took the road less travelled and made an album for his primary audience despite the bright lights of global commercial success calling to him. But there is also, perhaps, something to be said about ‘Heis’ being the soundtrack to a homecoming. There is a sense of organised mayhem in how the stadium responds to the music – hands in the hair and legs thumping so hard to the beat drop of “MARCH AM” in a way  I imagine they probably wouldn’t do to a song like “Addicted,” for all its charm and qualities. It’s the same response that a lot of old Rema classics get: the audience serves as orchestral backing for him as he leads them in a soul-infused rendition of “Holiday” and the ladies cheer loudly when he performs a spirited version of “Soundgasm” and “Woman.”

There are several interludes in Rema’s show as his Mavin colleagues Magixx, Ladipoe, and Crayon take turns performing before the crowd gets treated to a special performance of “Dorobucci” by Don Jazzy. At each interval, Rema would return to his cave, returning with a new look and new zest to perform. NATIVE Records signee, Odumodublvck, joined Rema on stage for an intense performance of their song, “WAR MACHINE,” before bowing out with a medley of “JUJU” and “Blood On The Dancefloor.” 

The biggest cheer of the night is saved for when Shallipopi joins Rema on stage for the performance of “BENIN BOYS,” their ode to their hometown that is sung word for word by the stadium, making for an electric atmosphere. Before launching into his solo performance of songs like “Elon Musk,” “Obapluto,” and “Ex Convict,” Rema beseeches Shallipopi to “fuck up this stage,” and it’s a request that his fellow hometown hero duly obliges, opening a portal for raucous celebration that carries over into Rema’s last stretch as he promises to return home for more celebrations like this. 

A little over five years ago, when Rema was originally introduced by Mavin, he was asked in an interview with HipTV what the scariest movie he had seen was. Almost without thinking about it, he named Ozeba, an old Bini classic. And all these years later, it feels fitting that he would close out his homecoming concert with a song that references the childhood he shared with many in his birth city. However, the “Ozeba” that Rema sings about is only a backdrop to a life of luxury and debauchery that his talent now affords him, a far cry from the horrorcore of the original movie. 

The attendees of his homecoming clearly don’t care too much about the thematic divergence of movie and song, as they break into impromptu mosh pits and try to keep up with the frenetic pace of the song from bleachers to the field. Even Rema seems energised by their vigour, and despite the occasional stage invaders, he runs the track back for a second time to even more enthusiastic singing.  On the second performance of Ozeba, the song’s producer, London, and several members of Rema’s retinue join him on stage to perform, bringing a close to a concert that is sure to be talked about for ages in Benin. 

A few hours after the stadium empties, I take a walk-through, taking in all the ways  it has suffered from the typical Nigerian dysfunction of improper care despite its storied history. But for a few hours, no one cared about that – all that mattered was that Rema was home and his people wanted to party with him into the night.  

Featured Image Credits/Shokunbi Halimotu

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