For Us By Us: Nigeria’s 2023 Election Serve As A Reminder of Our Oppressive Past
an oppressive and discriminatory part of our social and political fabric.
You must have seen the videos and heard the accounts. In the days after Nigeria’s gubernatorial elections, conversations around tribalism has been the most dominant to have emerged—tribalism, particularly against Igbo people, the ethnic group of which I’m proud to be part of. While there’s long been acts of violence and subjugation carried out against Igbo people, the most recent was set alight through comments made by the chairman of Lagos State Parks Management Committee, Musiliu Akinsanya, popularly known as MC Oluomo. In a meeting by the All Progressives Party (APC), Oluomo could be heard instructing the room packed with party loyalists. “Please tell them, we’ve begged them,” he says, referring to Igbo people, “If they won’t vote for us, it’s not a fight. Tell them that ‘Chukwudi’s mom, please, if you don’t want to vote for us, sit down at home!’”
The Nigerian Police Force (NPF) has not deemed this an immediate threat but Olumo’s words speak volumes about the current climate around Igbo people in Nigeria. Speaking to Channels TV a night before the elections, the spokesman of the NPF, Olumuyiwa Adejobi shared, “Let us take it as a joke, like he has said. He has come out to debunk that it is not true. Let us leave it that way that it is not true. It is a joke between two persons in that area at that particular point in time.”
Lagos is Nigeria’s commercial epicentre and a fixture in our booming cultural scene. Aside from being a former capital, it currently has one of the biggest economies in Africa, a position that has been generated through a mutual effort from each citizen resident in the state. For centuries, people within the geographical area known as Nigeria have moved around the country, going where their varied sensibilities find mutual acceptance despite their tribe.
MC Oluomo’s comment: Let’s take it as a joke, says police spokesman Muyiwa Adejobi. However, the video is being investigated, he added. #CTVTweets#NigeriaDecides2023#The2023Verdict pic.twitter.com/DLkvie8N7J
— Channels Television (@channelstv) March 17, 2023
History indeed proves that there are few places in the world where its original inhabitants still reside today. Pertaining to arts, it’s been imperative that creators move across borders to share their work and learn new techniques, which has led to the multifaceted nature of Nigerian artwork. The particular invocation of the Igbo people is quite dangerous because, against the better instances of shared cultures, we’re returning to our oppressive and discriminatory past of the sixties. As anyone who knows what those years contained would tell you, it was the most gruesome period in our history.
In the several accounts of people who were denied their right to vote in the gubernatorial election because they “looked Igbo,” this twisted ideology of preserving Yoruba dominance in Lagos was the common chant. As we’ve seen in the videos, people were attacked and killed, all in the presence of armed policemen and security officers who swore to protect lives. For several people who were forced to witness the ugliness of tribalism for the first time, it’s a crucial introduction to the most enduring of Nigeria’s loopholes as a country. And for Igbo people who were more or less born into this struggle, it’s another reminder of how easily seeds of hatred and discord can be sown into people, all for gaining political power.
One thing must be clear: tribalism, like poverty and illiteracy, has always been a favoured tool in the hands of Nigerian politicians. This goes back to the 1960s when the regions of the country—then the East, North and West—were divided on how best to approach independence. Among the leading politicians, there were agendas passed down to the people rejecting a central government, positioning eventual domination by other tribes as the major factor. For tribes who have evolved different religious and social lifestyles, this excuse of domination fed into already-existing tensions.
Guber Election: PDP, LP supporters protest against INEC in Enugu https://t.co/BnbssyxQHh
— Premium Times (@PremiumTimesng) March 20, 2023
Led by Emmanuel Ifeajuna and Kaduna Nzeogwu, the military coup of January 1966, which brought an end to Nigeria’s First Republic, was hastily called an “Igbo coup.” The coup plotters had planned to apprehend the major occupants in federal government positions although, according to Max Siollun’s ‘Oil, Politics and Violence,’ they didn’t unanimously agree on whether to arrest or kill them. That resulted in important Igbo personalities such as the county’s president Nnamdi Azikiwe and Premier of the Eastern region Michael Okpara escaping with their lives, which soldiers of northern extraction saw as complicit, especially as the most ranked northern politicians Tafawa Balewa and Ahmadu Bello had been murdered.
In supposed retaliation, six months later a counter-coup was carried out, this time killing over 250 Igbo and Eastern army officers, including the highest-ranking army officer Major General Aguiyi Ironsi. The following year saw the pogrom carried out against Igbos in all parts of the country, most notably in the north by soldiers. A scene in Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie’s 2006 novel ‘Half of a Yellow Sun’ describes the bone-chilling nature of the killings and how even pregnant mothers and children weren’t spared. In his acclaimed book ‘In Africa Biafra Died,’ Emefiena Ezeani relates how, in comparison to the other coups Nigeria would witness, “none has been associated with the ethnic origin of their principal plotters.”
These coups set the backdrop for tribalism against Igbos in Nigeria. Considering that over 40,000 Igbo lives were grotesquely claimed throughout 1967 in several parts of the country, the realisation is that Igbo people are more or less second-class citizens within Nigeria – it is frankly the least secured life in the country, and stoking this peculiar fire is ugly to say the least. We also must consider the various minority tribes (Nigeria has over 350 ethnic groups after all) being lumped into the Igbo group, a destructive proof that injustice is everyone’s concern. The barely-veiled scapegoatism thrives on a dangerous precedent without a proper deconstruction, putting off discussions and demonstrations of self-determination proves to be shortchanging history.
This man has been found and he is a NORTHERN man
…
He was helping out his Igbo friends during the fire…
Tribalism is destroying Nigeria pic.twitter.com/CTLhkulCs7
— Darey (@dreyinker) March 11, 2023
As an Igbo person born and raised in Lagos, it’s been surprising but not shocking to see the anti-Igbo hatred being spewed from all angles and it actually takes the shape of an organised attack. Right from writing off the candidacy of Labour Party’s Gbadebo Rhodes-Vivour on the account of his mother being Igbo (and referring to him in a derogatory way as Chinedu) to the comments of MC Oluomo and several other party members who’ve referred to allowing Yorubas to be in “control” of Lagos, there’s been progressive coordination of these attacks, most recently culminating in the gaslighting we’ve seen from people who confine what’s been happening to a political strategy.
For over ten years I lived in Ajegunle, an area in Lagos State that suffered ethno-religious crises in the early 2000s, and among the everyday people, such tribalism was almost non-existent. Being one of the most ethnically-diverse neighbourhoods in Nigeria, it was obvious that we could live together if some people weren’t fanning the embers of hatred. Some of my closest friends in secondary school were from other tribes, and it didn’t matter much to us. The events of this election have been a brutal reminder that the ethnic-spurred storylines in Old Nollywood (“over my dead body would you marry an Igbo man”) among other signifiers has deep-running ties in the Nigerian socio-political space, and it’s a conversation that must be had.
“It has to do with the role Igbo people play in the economic landscape of Nigeria and then it has to do with their numbers.” – Chukwudera Chiedoziem, a journalist and writer based in Awka, southeastern Nigeria.
For Favour, a young graduate who voted in Lagos, it was jarring to be referred to as “Omo Igbo” for the first time in her life. She was asked to vote “for us” by street dwellers she met on her way to the polling booth. She also narrated to the NATIVE how sad it was to see people picking their ballot papers from the gutter, after thugs had arrived on a motorcycle to scatter the booth which was close to her house. “’All these Igbo people,’” she said, quoting their exact words, “’Una wan occupy Lagos, una wan pursue us.’ These people were with guns.” Chigozirim, who is presently an Architecture undergrad, spoke to us about witnessing “people who he grew up and played football with” openly disenfranchising others and instigating violence.
According to Chiedoziem, the potency of utilising Igbo hatred as a means of asserting political power can be traced to history. “The 1966 coup was tagged an ‘Igbo coup’ and Igbo people were killed and it led to the Biafra War,” he said. “These things have not been properly addressed on a national stage. We’ve not talked about it; there has been no consensus on the national stage that Igbo people were wronged. And the ‘restructuring, rehabilitation and reconciliation’ that the Gowon government recommended has not been carried out. It’s more like running away from trauma and the trauma keeps resurfacing.”
Featured Image Credits/The NATIVE
ICYMI: LEADERSHIP, POWER & NIGERIA’S GOVERNMENT OF THE PEOPLE
NATIVE PREMIERE: Rigo Kamp Runs Ahead Of The Pack With The Visuals For “Marathon”
Rigo Kamp’s Marathon video is an intimate Afro-juju revival that pays homage to Sir Shina Peters and stamps...
Last Friday, Rigo Kamp, a NATIVE uNder alum and one of the architects of an equal parts nostalgic and refreshing sound released his self-titled debut EP, delivering a propulsive fusion of Alte, R&B, Funk, and Soul-infused rhythms.
Featuring previously released singles “Morning Sun” and “Summer”, the six-track eponymous EP executively produced by Odunsi The Engine sees Rigo lean heavily into his element as a sonic alchemist, jumping from silky falsettos to gritty grooves without losing an ounce of cohesion, and ultimately stamping the Abuja-born, Lagos-based singer-songwriter as a mad scientist of sound.
Just last November, Apple Music named Rigo Kamp as its Up Next artist, an acknowledgment that underscored his potential and confirmed what the tastemakers and underground scene already knew. Weeks later, he delivered an exhilarating live set for Spotify Fresh Finds in Lagos, proving he’s just as compelling live as he is in the studio.
On “Marathon”, the refreshing opener to the Rigo Kamp EP, Rigo borrows the bounce and swagger of Afro-Juju legend, Sir Shina Peters’ golden-era, fusing nostalgia with re-imagination to birth a vintage performance that feels like a private party for two, where it’s just Rigo, and you.
Get an exclusive first look at the video for Marathon here:
Listen to the Rigo Kamp EP:
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Togo YEYE & VLISCO’s new collaboration is a celebration of Lomé’s thriving creative scene
Togo YEYE is a community we are building for us by
Togo YEYE, a creative duo formed by Lomé-based creative director Malaika Nabillatou and London-based photographer Delali Ayivi, is a conceptual publication that was created to empower and champion Togo’s young fashion creatives. Since its inception in 2021, Togo YEYE has released several personal projects and has also partnered with a number of brands to further its hugely imaginative aesthetic mandate. For their latest collaboration, Togo YEYE teamed up with textile printing company VLISCO to present Blossoming Beauty. Tagged as a love letter to Togo’s creative community, the campaign captures Lomé’s scenic beauty alongside VLISCO’s vibrant prints with the aim of connecting the feminine grace of nature with identity and artistry.
What does Togo YEYE mean?
Malaika Nabilatou: My name is Malaika Nabilatou, I’m the creative director of Togo YEYE. I’m Togolese and I was born and grew up in Lomé. I see myself as a West African creative director and I’m working to be the best in a few years. Togo YEYE means new Togo in Ewe, one of the most popular languages spoken in the South of Togo.
What inspired you to create Togo YEYE?
Malaika Nabilatou: We started this project, my friend Delali and I, 5 years ago. We just wanted to show that Togolese youth are also creative. Togo YEYE is a community we are building for us by us. It wasn’t just a project for Delali and I. It’s become something for the creative scene of Lomé. Lomé is like our studio.
What role does Togolese culture play in your creative process?
Maryline Bolognima: For me, Togolese culture comes first. For example, in the South, there are the people of Anero. If you come, you can go to Anero. In the North, there are the Evals, so if you come to Togo, you’ll learn a lot.
What’s the most exciting part of working as a team on projects like this?
Malaika Nabilatou: I need to tell the truth, we dreamt about this campaign before [it happened]. When VLISCO contacted us, we were like wow. I can’t really explain how thankful we are to VLISCO for trusting us. Because it’s a risk that they took by trusting us, making that campaign here with our team and honestly we are going to keep it in our hearts for the rest of our lives.
Claudia Sodogbe: For me, it is the first big contract of my life that I had with Togo YEYE. I still remember, on the last day of the shoot, I was feeling nostalgic about separating from the teams and the others. It went well in any case, and I’m very grateful to have been on this project.
What has been your proudest moment as part of Togo YEYE?
Malaika Nabilatou: I think the proudest moment I had with this campaign was when I saw the result first on the website. When I saw the story, I was like “wow, we finally made it.”
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Inside The Parties Breathing New Life Into Lagos’ Nightlife Scene
No matter who you, these parties provide a safe space to let loose without fear of objectification or...
The crowd marches along on the dancefloor, vibrating to a pulse that is both familiar and electrifying. It takes a second to identify Grammy nominee, Rema’s “Ozeba,” pouring out of the speakers and whipping the crowd into a frenzy as it takes on new life as a turbulent EDM track. The crowd growls and screams in approval of the DJ’s remix, yet another banger in a night filled with back-to-back hits. Hands in the air, sweat dripping from glistening bodies, smoke floating around the dancefloor and young people gyrating with reckless abandon, Element House provides the people with the release they deserve and they reward it with an undying loyalty to its rhythm and raves as they keep coming back.
Party culture has taken on new dimensions in Nigeria over the last two decades as a reaction to economic, social and cultural progressions. This evolution of the way we party is significant considering that Nigeria is a society that lays heavy emphasis on certain accepted standards of moral behavior, rooted in culture and tradition. But that has never once stopped a good time from happening. Millennials and older gen-z will remember the street parties and carnivals of old, usually held at the end of summer holidays or in December, where music by TuFace, Mo’Hits, Akon, Shakira, Lady Gaga and 50 Cent were the staple, among others. There were certain songs automatically expected from any DJ worth his salt otherwise it was not too far-fetched to see a DJ, with his equipment on his head, fleeing for his safety while being chased by an irate mob of partygoers.
The more things change, the more they stay the same. These carnivals and street parties might have been phased out but the idea remains the same while the power and influence of communities powering party culture in Lagos and Nigeria at large has only gotten stronger, especially with the advent of social media. The Block Party series–started in Lagos, Nigeria as the Mainland Block Party–has become the go-to event to celebrate youth culture and foster connections that cut across multiple African cities and walks of life. Today, with curated events in Ibadan, Abuja, Lagos, Accra and others, a community of partygoers is assured maximum enjoyment whenever the Block Party organisers announce an event in their city of the month. The people will always return to where their tastes are catered to, bringing along friends, family and newbies eager to bask in the atmosphere of loud music and togetherness.
In 2012, Warner Bros. Pictures released Project X–a film that follows three friends and high-school students who attempt to gain popularity by throwing a party which ends up escalating out of their control and reaching epic proportions. This idea propagated by Hollywood would go on to influence several house parties thrown in Lagos during the mid to late 2010s. The idea that with the right DJ/music playing at the right venue and with just the right crowd, then immortality was possible–a party so grand that it would be spoken about in glowing terms for years to come until it became lore. Today, house parties are more intimate and controlled, the degrees of separation between attendees reduced by a mutual friend or WhatsApp group they all have in common. From game nights to karaoke sessions to kinky sex parties, whether it’s at Balloons & Cups, a Vogue Boys pool party, or a get-together by the ‘Lagos on a Budget’ IG Community, the role house parties play in the ever evolving party culture is not insignificant, creating a pipeline that feeds into the much larger raves which weekends in Lagos are becoming synonymous with.
Whether it’s Element House today, Mainland House tomorrow, Group Therapy next weekend, WIRED or a host of other house and EDM inspired movements, partygoers are spoiled for choice when it comes to where to indulge their fundamental music tastes in a secure and controlled environment. Nothing is off the menu and a good time is the only badge of honor worth collecting. The increasing popularity of the rave movement in recent years is testament to the fact that it works for both organizers and attendees. The Covid-19 lockdowns changed the way Nigerians party; after months of being isolated from their communities and having to socialize in more intimate and private spaces, it’s no surprise that raves, with their underground nature, became the outlet of choice for several young people as soon as the world opened back up. According to Tonia, a medical doctor and frequent raver living in Lagos, her first few times at parties following the end of the lockdowns were not fun. “I was partying with caution, wearing face masks constantly and carrying hand sanitizer around. It became a much better experience subsequently when everything relaxed and soon enough, I was back enjoying the time of my life at Lagos parties.”
Unburdened from the heavy spending, bottle-popping culture that characterizes Lagos nightlife and cloaked in the embrace of judgment-free anonymity and numbers, raves have become a safe haven for a community of partygoers determined to turn up in the midst of the sheer craziness of living in this day and age. For Michael-Peace, a brand & creative assistant and frequent raver, the appeal goes beyond a need to unwind and the feelings of peace he experiences at raves. “Whether I’m listening to the DJ or just watching the crowd move to the music, it’s a very mindful experience for me,” he says.“I’m grateful to just be there and appreciative of how we can all be one community or family for that period of time.”
The appeal of the rave scene is its inclusivity and it’s a common theme for the new wave of parties exploding in Lagos and environs. No matter who you are or what you stand for, these parties provide a safe space to let loose without fear of objectification or discrimination resulting from socio-economic and political differences, misogyny and other less elegant occurrences which are part of mainstream Nigerian nightlife. This is important to Tonia who, on multiple occasions, has been prevented by bouncers from entering clubs without a male companion. “I’ll always prefer raves, they are much freer and nobody is performing here. There’s no need to show off the number of bottles you bought like there is in a club. Everyone just wants to turn the fuck up and have the time of their lives.”
For five or six hours, the disco lights, turbulent music and fellow ravers provide solace from the outside world. “Dancing the night away” is not merely a suggestion but a divine mandate from the gods of the rave. It is almost impossible to emerge after such an experience and not want to do it again. The music beckons all and sundry to come out, purge yourself of all inhibitions on the dancefloor, then return home and spread the gospel of the electronic music scene to all who might listen. In Michael-Peace’s own words: “There are people I’ve put onto raves and who loved the experience and constantly thank me for introducing them to it. Once you get hooked on it, you’ll never want to let go.”
Party culture in Nigeria continues to evolve as the new wave of parties mark their time and place in history. But the street parties and carnivals of yesteryears are not to be forgotten. The power of community continues to connect the old wave with the new wave, ensuring that actual people remain the focal point of these events, and party goers can enjoy nightlife experiences uniquely tailored to their ever changing wants and needs.
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