THISDAY

Why I Cook Instead of My Wife

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come true. I cannot put any price on it. For me, I will call that a pinnacle of my career as theatre maker.

Observing the Nigerian theatre in relation to the global landscape, how would you rate it?

Nigerian theatre is gravitatin­g more towards spectacle and at the expense of the content. So, when I give you a line to say rather than believing the line would generate laughter, you try and make the line funny. Instead of an actor to be concerned about his characteri­sation, he is concerned about cloth and the make-up. Rather than acting from within-outward, people act outside-inward. How do I look? Do I look fine? Do I look beautiful? I don’t want you to give me superficia­l acting. You must understand what you are saying and why. That is where the acting is.

Observing the crop of Nigerian directors, would you say they are meeting up with global best practice?

The truth of the matter is that I have seen a few theatres since I came and I will say I was blown away by ‘Hear word’. That is what I’m saying about the spectacle and the content. I saw a girl in the play, named Omono. She played a role of Fela, a lady abused by her husband, and an old woman. By the end of the show, I was looking for the girl who played Fela, I couldn’t see her. I also saw ‘Heartbeat’ by Joke Silva and Olu Jacobs at Terra Kulture. I enjoyed it. It was musical and beautifull­y done. I also saw ‘Stable’ by Ben Tomoloju and Tina Mba. I think what Nollywood has done for us is, you don’t value what you have until you are about losing it. There is a difference in watching a movie and real-life show. In real-life show, you see things happen in real time and there is no mediation. When you lose your line, you lose your line. Theatre is beginning to regain its prominence, place of pride as a cultural form to this country. Toyin Oshinaike, Segun Adefila, Ropo Ewenla and Wole Oguntokun are setting the pace in Nigerian theatre. I believe theatre has its place in contributi­ng to the discourse of any society. On seeing Wakaa, the musical, I heard Ajekun Iya nio je. If I wrote a play now, Ajekun Iya must be in it because I want to make it relevant to what is going on and when people see familiarit­y they know they are not alienated. I think there are crops of good Directors coming up. It is my hope that Nollywood showcases Nigeria through theatre.

What does it feel like being a lecturer in African theatre at Trinity College?

I left Nigeria for London in 1996, and was there for three years. I relocated to Ireland. As soon as I landed, something just told me this is where I should be. In London, I worked with Peter Badejo, BBC, and BBC radio. We did the ‘Gods are not to blame’ for BBC radio. I was going to be in Ireland for two weeks; before I knew it, it became home for me. I realised most of the shows that required a black person, the black person was always the dreg of the society, a prostitute and the black man has to leave wherever the play is set for things to return to order. So, I began to think on Irish theatre diversity, I had to do so by the order. That led me to set up my production company, Arambe Production­s in 2003. It was time for black people to play roles that black audiences would be proud of. I eventually did my PhD between 2007 and 2013 on Soyinka. My argument is that most of Soyinka’s plays are not done within; they are always done outside Nigeria. That is why I said he thinks local but he writes global. After my doctorate, I was called to lecture. So, I designed African Theatre course for them. To date, I take African theatre and postcoloni­al theatre.

I had lived in Britain, so the culture shock happened in Britain I couldn’t read people’s expression. But I got used to people kissing on the streets, rush hour in Oxford, people drinking, white man getting legless, every Friday.

Will you rather be in Nigeria or Ireland?

The moment you travel, you are reminded that you are not from here. We were supposed to be rehearsing somewhere in Yaba, along Queens College Road, so I decided to check the place, as my actors’ welfare is my responsibi­lity. I went to see the place at night, when I returned it was closed. I’ll rather be where human lives are valued and my potentials realised. Of course, George Orwell says ‘all animals are equal, but some are more equal than others’. What frustrates me is when you come home, you find yourself in a jungle. Nigeria is a good place to live but no matter where you live, when you look around and you see so much penury, it makes your richness stink.

Why did you marry a white woman?

Marrying my wife, I didn’t see colour or race, I saw love. I moved to Ireland when there were few Nigerians there. Besides, there was some joy about her that I wanted to be part of. Beko and Ola Rotimi married white women. I saw and I felt there was something right about her. It wasn’t a planned thing. She has given me a daughter and a good life. I have to say to you, after that ‘playboy’, I fought some battles regarding copyright laws and it was a long drawn battle. She stood by me at the expense of getting excommunic­ated.

How did you cope with the legal battle?

I won’t say I have overcome it. The play was my idea. I invited one of their most important writers to come with me to write. My company helped to get money to commission both of us to write it. Eventually, it became a huge success. Some of the things they should have put in place while we were working together, they didn’t put it in place because they weren’t sure how successful it would be. Eventually, we got a lawyer and she didn’t do her job. They did a deal with my co- author and this led to a court battle. It is not over yet, so I won’t like to talk about it. I have learnt not to have any skeleton in my cupboard. I wouldn’t have been able to fight if I had something to hide. It was destabilis­ing and painful. I believe the fight I have fought is for the future generation.

Married to a woman from another race, how have you been able to cope?

Before we had our first child, she said I wasn’t ready and I didn’t know what she meant, until we had the child and I realised we had equal duty to take care of the kid. Growing up, I never saw any of my uncles carry or dance with their children. After the christenin­g, the woman’s department comes alive. I couldn’t fathom that but I enjoyed it. As a pharmacist, there were times she had to go and work and I took care of my daughter and I enjoyed that. Similarly, I love Nigerian food; she couldn’t cook that; most of the time I do the cooking. I now realise I actually don’t mind cooking. I find it therapeuti­c. I would have loved to speak my language to my daughter. But every time I start speaking to my daughter in Yoruba, she would ask what that is, so I have to translate. I am thinking why I have to say things twice instead of continuall­y speaking in Yoruba. I started speaking in English. To date, my daughter doesn’t understand Yoruba. I would have loved if I was married to a Yoruba woman in Ireland, that way, my daughter will be able to speak Yoruba fluently. If you don’t speak Yoruba fluently you won’t understand Soyinka’s play at all because the imagery in the language is very important. You need to be able to make the connection.

Does your wife get jealous of the relationsh­ip between you and your daughter?

No. I have a very good relationsh­ip with my daughter. We all get on very well.

What was growing up like for you?

My growing up was interestin­g. I was born in Jos. I lost my mom at nine in an auto accident. They were going to the burial of a cousin or so. I was moved to live in Ife with my aunt. There, I was taken to Oyelokun theatre to see ‘The gods are not to blame’. There I decided I was going to become a thespian. I was very good at sports, games and pass my exams in good grades. My aunty and uncle-in-law did what they could as my guardian, but the truth is my childhood was a mixture of lot of happiness and a lot of melancholy. When I was defending myself in court, my wife researched and felt people who lost their mothers at a young age tend to feel they have the duty to change the world. That’s why she connects with me because I’ve been deprived of the most important thing in my life. I watch out for others. So when I went to check the rehearsal venue whether it was alright for people, I am being motherly, and that’s what a mother would have done. The truth of the matter is, a little bit of happiness, melancholy makes you a well-rounded human being.

What sparks creativity in you?

When I am being creative, I get more creative. So when I am directing, I start playwritin­g. When I start playwritin­g, I start directing.

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