Today, I’m inspired to celebrate the resilience, strength, and unifying potential of the Nigerian youth through the musical messages of Kush, the celebrated gospel group of the early noughties. Kush’s 2002 smash hit, “Let’s Live Together”, was perhaps for me the most important Nigerian song of that crucial era of innocence, on the cusp of the millennium. That’s possibly because the song was released at the height of nationwide fratricidal tensions, notably the Kaduna crises, OPC threats, Yoruba vs. Hausa clashes in places like Ketu, Mile 12, Oyingbo, etc.
In some ways, watching the visuals of the song on NTA (especially on AM Express, hosted by Sadiq Dabba, Yinka Craig, Marian Anazodo, Kathrine Edoho, Eline etc) at the time brought therapy, as much as it registered messages of hope and peace on our impressionable minds, despite the despair.
First, there was TY Bello’s innocent, yet penetrating, rhetorical question:
Kilode ta fi n p’ara wa?
(Why are we killing one another?)
Ko ma si’bomiran ta le lo o
(There is nowhere else for us to go)
Our strength is in our diversity
Then came Lara George’s sonorous, tear-inducing, deeply emotional Igbo rendition. And there was Emem Ema (daughter of legendary photographer, Inyang Ema) and her tomboyish swagger and lyrical inventiveness, with which she paid homage to a number of Nigeria’s ethnic nationalities, from Hausa through Yoruba, Igbo, Ibibio, Fulani, Urhobo, Edo etc. Emem’s rap delivery, rendered in Hausa, was a big deal for us at a time when rap was still defined largely within the context of Eedris Abdukareem’s banal lines, way before rapper Modenine came with redemption.
And then there was Dapo – Dapo Torimiro! – a brilliant songwriter and instrumentalist providing direction and balance to that group of young Nigerians, almost always shying away from the camera, while doing the real work in the background.
I went through my playlist this morning and found the KUSH hit, and a wave of nostalgia swept through me. Of course the track, released under the phenomenal DKG Music label, has been on auto-replay all day.
In this age of mutual tension, politically orchestrated divisions, and deep ethno-religious suspicion, I find Kush’s “Let’s Live Together” (released off their The Experience album) not just therapeutic, but a reminder of the strength of the Nigerian young person and the centrality of his or her roles for Nigeria’s redemption. And what’s more, events of recent years have proven this to be true, with young people painting great stories on the canvass of the Nigerian dream, despite institutionalised decay.
There are the record-shattering trio of Burna Boy, Wizkid and Davido, including the grossly underrated duo of Flavour Nabania and Yemi Alade, as well as the rave of the moment, Kizz Daniel – all immensely talented young artistes putting the nation’s name on the global map, warts and all. Of course, there is Asa, the brilliant, perceptive nightingale, as well as Tems, the emerging queen of RnB.
There is Tobi Amusan, our own celebrated Amazon; Ahmed Musa, an epitome of patriotism and selflessness; as well as Ese Brume, the determined fighter who jumped her way into Nigeria’s sporting lore. There is Tunde Onakoya, who brought love, light and hope to the faces of young, impressionable boys under the chaotic atmosphere of Oshodi.
There is Fati Abubakar, unusual storyteller painting pictures of hope and possibilities behind the shadows of insurgents in Maiduguri, and there is Adamu Tilde, a brilliant thinker engaging culture and developmental issues in Northern Nigeria with clinical, solution-driven expertise.
There are the inspiring duo of Igwe Uguru and Peter Akwa, young men who rode on the back of technology to navigate African traditional markets and create a multi-million-naira tech startup from Aba, Abia State; Shola Akinlade and Ezra Olubi, tech whizkids who drew the attention of the world to Yaba via Paystack; as well as Mark Essien, the entrepreneur who found wealth in the business of luxury by leveraging on tech, while on the streets of Calabar.
There are thousands of young, peace-loving patriots who took to the streets to justifiably protest SARS brutality in 2020 (many of whom are not even visible on Twitter), before they were infiltrated by arsonists and other merchants of violence who caused mayhem, leaving in their trail sorrows, blood and tears. There are also hundreds of young, unsung heroes who provided security for their local communities when marauders and criminals came calling in the turbulent days of the COVID-19 lockdown in Lagos, Oyo, and, most especially, Ogun State.
But there are also millions of young Nigerians doing great things in their individual spaces, impacting the society behind the klieglights.
There are individuals like Rasaq Malik Gbolahan, talented poet and culture enthusiast documenting our stories in beautiful lines and stanzas; Omo Iya Kunmi, a young, resourceful Nigerian providing community service to the downtrodden in Oyo; Badiu Akinola Akinbode, a young Nigerian toiling in far away Barcelona with a dream to influence the nation’s food processing industry; and Toheeb Adejumo, a U.S-based patriot and educationist quietly illuminating the minds of young, poor Nigerians in Oluode area of Ibadan with free books and a library, unperturbed by the challenges of finance and geography.
And there are millions of other young people doing such great things, providing hope amid despair.
And so irrespective of the turbulence and chas of the moment, I am quite hopeful that with the strength, resilience, creativity and enterprising spirit of the Nigerian young person, this nation will rise and the young Nigerian will shine.
And even though the argument has become quite weak in the face of tension, hate, and decade-long retrogression, our strength still lies in our diversity – as we probably saw at the Commonwealth Games in Birmingham recently.
Dear Nigerian youth, as the world marks the International Youth Day, I celebrate your creativity, industry and resilience. Ad I’m optimistic that you – and indeed Nigeria – shall rise and excel.
Credit: Oladeinde Olawoyin