Lamili Engel: Dream Chasing

It is 2009. And a rainless evening at the Shell Residential Area, Port Harcourt, south of Nigeria. The Garden City, an oil hub, is home to incessant rainfall but today. It is holidays for the rain, perhaps. A small stage is set to have Lamili and her band perform varieties of songs – mainly western. It is a small band. There is Boma on the keyboard. He adjusts the microphone in front of him while a sultry lady walks in and he is distracted, not by the lady on fine heels but feedback from the speakers. I’d later find out the fair lady is a member of the band, a dancer. Her smile is warmer and resettling than the weather.

I am seated, a bit anxious but observant. The residential area is beautiful – the backdrop for the band is a mural – well spread. Steps away from the tables, a restaurant lets loose aroma from its kitchen and I am enwrapped in wants. But I’d be meeting Lamili for the first time in person so the anxiety returns. We’ve been friends on Facebook.

It is 2016, I’m somewhere in the eastern part of Nigeria, on YouTube. Lamili’s new music video for “Love Me Proper” has been replayed five times. She’s unchanged physically, still athletic, slender and passionate about music but her mind and scope of works have changed. These days, her audiences are no longer workers at Shell or their friends and family members. She is a model for afro-pop tunes, exporting sassiness and African-ness across Europe.

Currently in Spain, her new home, Lamili recalls one of her earliest songs entitled “Ndidi”, an Igbo term for ‘patience’ and ‘perseverance’

“The song was dedicated to my late mum and grandma. It tells of me leaving home to pursue my dream, of a career in music and asking them to be patient with me.”

Certainly not a dream chaser anymore, of the young woman who left home in Anambra State many years ago, Lamili has shared stages with some fine people from across the world. Among Nigerian star artistes, she has a song with Timaya and of course, an earlier song entitled "Crazy Love" has M' Trill, a Channel O Award winner.  Responding to the question whether it has been patience all this while for her growth, Lamili says:

“It is perseverance rather than patience. I don’t think I m a very patient person as friends and family will attest. I am constantly pushing to move forward and to see results.”

Lamili made music in Port Harcourt when it was a struggle to be received by radio houses. And when someone listened to you their gestures and words were asking for more than appreciation but sex or money.

“In the past, my focus has been on the reception of female musicians in Nigeria, who were not treated on a footing equal to their male colleagues, in fact, worse. Sexual harassment is widespread. Sexual favours are demanded or offered out of desperation in exchange for exposure or preferential treatments. I have always refused to play these games, as I believe hard work, quality materials, and perseverance will get me there.”

These days, there are more radio houses in Port Harcourt and more options. Younger people have created blogs to promote songs that radio houses won't play. And there are artistically creative music video directors too, complementing efforts by singers and performers.

“There was a clear reason why a few years ago, I decided to move the focus of activities from Port Harcourt to Lagos and then Europe. PHC is not doing enough to support and further its local talents.”

About her journey to exploring music beyond the shores of Africa, Lamili says

“Travelling has exposed me to different cultures and their traditional music, for example, Flamenco style music here in Spain. In the past, my music style was focused on a Nigerian audience. These days, I am working towards songs for fans beyond Nigeria or Africa.”

Artists are diversifying, especially in Nigeria where a musician does not make anything off a studio album, such that had to be put out for free so that it may be downloaded and cost would be covered from gigs and concerts, or brand endorsements. When asked if the uniqueness of her hairdo was geared towards setting up a brand such that would see maybe hair brands coming to her for endorsements, Lamili says

“I have a passion for fashion; though I prefer not to follow trends but to make my own. My hairdo is unique, it makes me stand-out and instantly recognizable. At the moment my priorities are at establishing the brand LAMILI across Europe and Africa. Beyond this, I will be releasing additional music from time to time while touring.”

The alluring mother of one, who would rather keep family life private, travels heavily. In her words she says:

“I don’t travel with a single piece of luggage only. Driven by the demands on my appearance at media houses and stages, I have to pack a lot. I never travel light. Apart from this, my personal fashion brand is my hairdo.”

Outside music, Lamili is passionate about raising awareness about breast cancer. She has appeared in a handful of materials about breast cancer awareness but she has not stopped advocating for at least, annual check-up for Nigerians, like it is done in Europe.  

“Nigeria is way behind on the preventive side of medical care when compared to what I see in Europe. For example, annual screening for breast and other cancers is the absolute norm. We should have it in Nigeria too so we can save lives.”

Lamili Engel who shares her time between Africa and Europe is a lover of big cars and currently drives a Toyota Land Cruiser with a Toyota Auris by the side.

Note: Photographs were provided by Lamili Engel

  

The One Who Comes and Goes

 

The One Who Comes and Goes

Last night

while the world rested

we were in bed, wrapped

by our all.

We locked eyes

and hearts

and giggled and tickled.

This morning,

your presence is gone

and your aura has no trail,

not even the echo

of expected laughter -

a carry-over from last night’s.

You’re the one who comes

and goes at will.

This door is yours.

(c) Bura-Bari Nwilo 2015

LETTER TO MY OGONI SISTER ON BEING CROWNED MISS NIGERIA 2015

Dear Sister,

It is with absolute goodwill and sheer concern for my own kith and kin that I have decided to write to you today. I mean well, even if my language may not be clear-cut and sexy as you are. Ah. I see your image in my head. In short, since yesterday, I have been dreaming about you; how you walk and the victory smile which rented your face when you were announced winner. *inserts smile and dies.

I hope you find time to read this letter and write back to me. *inserts a wink

You know, life has changed since last night when you won that prestigious crown as Miss Nigeria, 2015. Hmm. Some bad belle people have been comparing MBGN to Miss Nigeria. But don’t mind them. That’s all they are good at, analyzing. Ah. Life is sweet oh. I am sure you will be making shakara anyhow now. You’ll be like: mbok, I rep Cross River oh but I am Ogoni to the bone. Ah. To the bone, chai, that line is sweet, whalai.

You will drive around in that your new SUV and then travel to everywhere with that your plenty millions. Ah. In my next world ehn, I will come as a beautiful woman with fine legs, great height and envious nose. I think I will try and be intelligent too.

I know it doesn’t mean much, but just in case it is required, I will do my best to acquire a cute accent. Sister, please come closer let me share something about accent with you. See ehn, just go into any bank in Nigeria and use those thick dark glasses and cover your eyes and speak anything that would make you sound like a bird and there, everyone would respect you. They would say: “Hey. See that one oh. She is one of those people who have gone to oyinbo land and have returned with light skin and yeye accent. But don’t mind them. What would kill them is already in their faces. Accent is sweet oh.

I watched as you just knack book and dribble people like a proud Ogoni girl. Ah. You are fine, Leesi. Yes oh. That is what I will call you. You see that Pamela something? Me, I don’t buy it at all. You are a sweet Ogoni woman and your native name is what I’d hold on to.

Before I forget, please this is the reason I decided to write you this letter. It’s about boys; some yeye boys wey dey the Nigerian music industry only to give beauty queens belle. I am writing you to be careful of wolfs with microphone and cheap six packs that I can buy anywhere in Ariaria market.

You see, these boys just sit in front of their televisions during pageantry. They are not even concerned enough to buy tickets and watch you people appear in pants and high hilled shoes oh. No. They want to stay there and watch the winner then they would tell their yeye publicist to look for the winner’s phone number and call them that they want to wish them happy winning.

There are two famous people you have to avoid by all means if you want us, your kinsmen to remain behind you. One is yellow with dada and mumu six packs. Hmm. My sister, I know that you have been in Nigeria. In short, one bird whispered to me that you are in service, serving Nigeria, battling mosquitoes and bad toilet and bathroom wey dey camp but this guy bad well well.  Him bad pass everything bad. The day that our former MBGN was in Yenagoa shaking like fowl that had cold, trying to answer simple questions about wetin she go do when she win, this man was looking at yansh in South Africa in the name of shooting a music video. When the fine yellow girl come win, him no waste time. He dropped his magical rod inside the small innocent hole and chai, sister, a pikin was deposited. That is so wrong.

You must stay away from him. Any show he organises in this world must be avoided. If you did not know that he was in the show and you eventual found him there, abeg, tell the organisers that shit is hungering you, that you have to leave. You can go to Bodo too and recruit 15 local boys to guard you. I don’t want to hear stories.

There is another man who has announced to the world that he is now a repentant married man. Ah. Hot lie. Please, stay away from him too. Don’t buy his album. The image on that album has made someone pregnant before. I know the girl. She is still looking for a way to take care of the baby. This man has many faces although he has agreed that there are only two. Ah. He is bad. He is slim, and tall. You know what slim men carry between their legs shey? Avoid him. He can bring your holy land to disrepute in two minutes. He can enlarge the narrowest pathway by a single visit. When you see him on TV, please sprinkle the blood of Jesus and bind and cast any appearance that may come in the dream.

You have to be at alert. Put a small Gideon bible under your pillow before you sleep and if time permits, scream “chisos, chisos, chisos” seven times. Find a bottle of olive oil and drink it too.

It has also come to my notice that some ladies love other ladies. Ah. Don’t do what will make Bari have sleepless night. If any woman opens her breasts for you, cower and help them cover it. They are end time children. Don’t play that with them.

Sister Leesi, it is our pleasure that Chisos has chosen you to wipe our tears off our eyes. You remember the many oil spillages in your village, it has been Bari who has shielded you from drinking poisonous water so you would live and make him proud. Biko, make him proud.

Embrace all things that would add value to human life. In all you do, stay humble and motivated. Yours would be a beautifully eventful journey and do well to send me a Facebook request too.

Thank you.  

Bura-Bari Nwilo

Your Ogoni Brother in the Lord  

A ROAD LESS TRAVELLED (poem)

A ROAD LESS TRAVELLED

We have become unaware

Of the presence of multitudes

Of voices that speak divergent languages-

-Of spectators whose opinions we don’t need.

We have become odd-

For what they seek

Is not what we give

And what they see

Is not who we are.

We are like a road

Less travelled,

Free of footprints

But not of essence

(c) Bura-Bari Nwilo 2015

WHAT A MAN CAN’T FORGIVE: a.v.a.g.i.n.a.s.t.o.r.y

WHAT A MAN CAN’T FORGIVE

I’m a man. I’m few years below 30. I think from 25, everything that needs to grow in the human anatomy should have approached its full height. But I’m also aware that medical conditions can be responsible for some delays or so.

But what do you think flares me up to a state of un-forgiveness? Let me give you a clue. It has to be something that punctures my ego – the manliness. And let your unclean mind wander afar, like a Nigerian opposition politician who is trying to understand where his next meal would come from.

To me, a lot could flare me up to un-forgiveness. And do I think same may flare up other men? Maybe. This is what may flare me up and lead me to un-forgiveness. It is not my weakness for fried plantain and gizzard which when taken away, I may have to take up my late grandmother’s pestle. It would definitely not be the partial or total takeover of my girlfriend. In sincerity, between man and what man believes in, I can’t forgive a large vagina in whose presence I look like a midget, especially when I was made to believe it was a less frequently travelled road.

I mean, it is not a one-way street where blames ought to be heaped on one poor soul. Either my penis is so small or the vagina is ridiculously national or global. And since I know the size of my worktool, and since I have made several consultations and I have got many testimonies that it is average, not too big and not close to being addressed as small, I feel I’ll never forgive a whale sized vagina.

Let me tell you what kills me with it. I am there, excited that I would be a conqueror, that I would drop the jeans and assist the bringing down of my partner’s and then give in my best but when its jacket is worn and the tool is inserted, and I feel lonely, like a man in a tunnel, like if I said a word is said in there it would echo and somehow I’d be lost? A large vagina must be a great turn-off for a lot of men. Maybe that’s why those who are married and have had kids with their spouses cheat. They go out to look for tighter corners where they would feel good, struggle through the sacred passage and make someone moan for real.

Sadly, a woman isn’t born with an automatic Pacific sized vagina. Na. Maybe childbirth, which I feel is the major cause and the unawareness of some women who have had babies to take care of their priceless gifts. A lot is wrong with marriage. In it people become relaxed. A man or woman, who usually shaved pubic hairs and others, barely takes good care of him/herself in marriage and then Things Fall Apart.

The vagina is quite sensitive. I understand the size may not matter but psychologically, when I log in and I can’t feel the two walls rubbing against my joystick, and the stick is like some  misappropriated N20 billion that can’t be found, I begin to sense a lot of things crumbling.

I once had an irritating sex. It was around the less developed stage of my life. So this beauty and I agreed on sex and I was offered an amazing posture. The backdoor is simply great. That was the door I was given. I had inserted and had started gaming and was almost getting exhausted when the evil chic asked if I had inserted the penis that she was not feeling anything. I fell flat in utter disbelief; was my dick so small or was the passage same as the one described in the holy book, the one that leads to Hell Avenue?

Passages ought to be moderate. I can stand befall anything but not one that swallows me. Not even love can keep me in such marriage/ union and I am sure a lady may enjoy much care too but once a joystick doesn’t stimulate a thing in her, she’d probably walk away.

Life’s too short ni.

 

Pictures from the Sand Artist

Zina Saro-Wiwa’s gallery, the Boys' Quarters Project Space occupies what used to be her father’s office on Aggrey Road in Port Harcourt. Today, the three rooms space in the two storey building play host to arts lovers, something a bit different from when Ken Saro-Wiwa worked from there. His has been business and then the politics of decrying the devastation on the environment caused by activities of oil exploration. Today, the blend of colours and light gives exhibitions an alluring feel.   

Though the inner office of the late writer’s office has been transformed slightly, the adjustment being the installation of a projector which plays themed photos, light fittings, his desk, chair and name tag are still intact – some rare antique you’d say. 

What makes an interesting visit to the gallery is the location. Just around the corner, from the Lagos Bus Stop junction is the unending fence of the Port Harcourt Prison where Mr Saro-Wiwa was detained until his eventual execution. And while in the gallery, the sometimes disturbing sound of unwanted music from shops on the busy Aggrey Road adds its own blend of colour to the beautiful pictures or crafts inside the gallery.

But Ms Saro-Wiwa’s space isn’t just a set-up in memory of her father. It is for humanity, as artists with exceptional works display them to the public. Currently on display are works by Charles Udofia – a first time exhibitionist. Mr Udofia makes portrait from sand. Yes. He gets the right type of sand and applies it tactically to form the subject of his work. 

Mr Udofia who is from Akwa Ibom State is a self-trained, no-studio artist who combines trading in a small shop where he displays his art works almost side by side with his wares. During my visit, the second since the space was opened; I met Dumnwii Fadeh, the project’s country manager. He shared his passion for the arts and matching ideas which brought him in contact with Zina. We spent time taking pictures.  

According to Fadeh, the centre has had five exhibitions which come up thrice in a year. The gallery is opened Wednesdays – Saturdays – 11am to 6pm.