The
sad side of being expectant is being failed. No one wants to be disappointed. I
don’t like to be failed. Often, I keep an open mind but when disappointment
comes when I didn’t seek its attention then I could be provoked. But I am not,
today. I am having fun.
You’ve
probably seen the video for the African remix of the song, We Are The World. I have. I watched it on TV and proceeded to
having a more carful listen on YouTube despite the impressive images of African
music stars coming together to promote whatever cause it was they sang for or
against.
At
the end of the day, displayed on screen were some of the most dangerous threats
Africa as a continent has faced. One of such is Ebola, followed by the most
current incident in South Africa where some locals believed they were being
marginalised and their jobs and women were taken away. And instead of sending
these threats away, in one piece, they decided to have them murdered and
photographed and sent in bits.
Sadly,
no world leader condemned anything – at least outright-ly. There was an
incident in Kenya were hundreds of university students were selected and killed
if they were Christians. Unfortunately, they were Africans, they mattered less
and the streets of Kenya or major African cities felt they were just a Kenyan
affair. These youths, blossoming future of Africa, died painfully.
Someone
in South Africa thought it wise, I presume, to have some leading voices from
some prominent African countries come to persuade people to know more about
Ebola, a virus which has been fought but seriously needed to be talked about.
And too, they thought xenophobia, as in the case of South Africa, had to be
addressed. Why stars barely put their monies where their mouth is has always
been a surprise to me. People who drive in luxury cars always come to penniless
people like me to ask for funds.
A
lot could be achieved if some unused cars in the garage of these super men
would be sold and same funds donated to fighting causes instead of wearing branded
T-shirts to show how persuasive the voices are.
Talking
about songs, a friend of mine, Chioma, a patron of the arts is dissatisfied with
a re-enactment of an aged song. If the people who were called for the show were
truly as talented as presumed, someone could have written a better song, an
original son, which would address the current issue. And I am still thinking,
what are we supposed to give for, the treatment of Ebola infected people or the
funeral of those killed in South Africa?
Africa
is too rich with inspiration; especially to have indulged in an over-flogged
song: We Are The World. If the song has to be used, can’t there be some new
flavour for it to suit the African situation? I mean, I needed some varieties.
Imagine an Asa strumming her guitar in the beginning of the song and rendering
the first few sentences. That’s something new. Imagine the Ladysmith Black Mambazo doing some
native lines. That’s some newness. Imagine the incorporation of the xylophone,
something that is common in some African societies. Imagine the talking drum of
the Yoruba people of Nigeria, or flute from the Igbo side. I mean, there could have been so much in improvement
than rendered. Why are we sometimes amazingly clueless?
I
personally think the lyric is redundant. More could have been done by whoever
called the shot. And I purposefully have refused to comment on Kecee’s and Emmy
Nyra’s singings. Sean Tizzle should avoid things that would insult his career.
Bura-Bari
Nwilo is writes from Nsukka, Nigeria. He is the author of Diary of a Stupid
Boyfriend.
