Still hibernating far from home and without my diary so I cannot remember the exact details of date and order but I remember the day we shot the Oba of Benin, hey back off you proud Benin people l did not shoot your Oba o. Cheap, l know

As I mentioned last week, I and Bayo had found a simple lace and gele outfit for the visit to the Oba and everyone had conflicting advice about how best to approach him, greet him and generally conduct myself before him. One thing l can tell you for free is that the people of Benin revere their Oba. The reaction is the same from market traders to university professors; in fact if you mention his name, they automatically say “Oba Gha to Kpere . . . . Ise”! So much so I was tempted to keep saying it to get same reactions over and over again in his court.

We arrived the Palace and were received by Abdul Oroh and a few chiefs. The compound was large and unremarkable except for the diversity of people hanging about, some to see the Oba, some to sell memorabilia and others to curry favours.

I had been told there was a part of the palace women were not allowed to go which of course was where l wanted to go but I am not quite crazy or daring enough.

Whilst waiting outside, I noticed that a lot of the chiefs going into the palace were eminent Nigerians from all works of life; I was fascinated by their half-shaven head and was told you could tell the rank of each chief by the extent of shaving and number of beads on him. There were no female chiefs.

After about forty minutes we were allowed into the court so we could position the cameras and lights, a tough job in a place we had not been allowed to Reece before hand, which turned out to be a small poorly lit over crowded room.

I was anxious and tense, a little confused by all the rules, regulations, ceremonies and wait, and believe me wait we did. We waited so long some of the guys dozed off and l got more tensed especially with the testosterone overload. Once in a while someone would come in from the inner room and everyone would jump to attention only to find it was not the Oba.

Eventually, an emissary came in and announced that the Oba was coming out, we all sprang to attention and thirty minutes later the Oba, lead by a youth (he is said to be a eunuch) came in to chorus of “Oba Gha to Kpere . . . . Ise”.

I was enthralled, he looked older than his pictures and portraits but here was the famed Oba of Benin in touching distance. I had been told he would not speak to me in English but he began by belligerently asking in English that the boom mike (who dares put a body mike of him) be moved away from his stool and the light be repositioned and so on. My heart sank; this was not going to be an easy interview.

It was not easy, It was in fact a sparring match but I was determined not to back down so I switched into my dump blonde reporter mode, asking seemingly stupid questions with a bright smile and demure (I hope) disposition. He answered each question with a question or put down but as we went on l realized it was his style so I ploughed on. When I asked if any Oba had ever abdicated his throne there was a collective gasp and the man looked at me like l was a complete idiot, he did not answer. I was mentally having fun now. He had said he would only answer a few questions but an hour later I asked my cheeky question about the place of women in his court and got a mischievous reply. All in all I would not say I found the Oba charming but I would say I thoroughly deserved the comment whispered to me by one of the high chiefs as I left. He said, “You are a brave woman, good job”.

On our third day in Benin we went to film the highest ranking female in the land, a woman whose role had been specially created by the Oba as women are not traditionally high chiefs in Benin. A very strange situation as Benin women are so strong and enterprising. I wondered what the correlation was between the unacknowledged central role of the Benin woman and the elephant in the room in every interview. The issue of human trafficking and international prostitution, which has an unfortunate Benin face. We went on to later film one of the most harrowing human trafficking story l have ever heard from a survivor who is now living with HIV but that is another diary.

The Iyeye of Benin was a lively personality living with a court of women. Said to be so powerful she is the only one who can intercede on an offender’s behalf with the Oba, she was funny, regal but cautious and pained about the trafficking issue. The interview with her was strange, as we needed an interpreter who was one of her nephews visiting from America. It was weird hearing him go from his American English to heavy Benin. All these whilst the Iyeye sat on a round concrete slab throne When we finished, she presented us with cartoons of juice and biscuits and promised to find me a Benin husband by next year.

Then we drove to the famous Benin market to film the next bit. When our convoy of vehicles arrived, the market lead by the gun-wielding policemen, everyone took to their heels and the market emptied in no time. I vividly remember the man who quickly grabbed his two lovely children, bundled them into his old hatch back Peugeot and drove off, fast. I was mortified and I just wanted to pee, so Macho, one of the body guards lead me into a house where everyone was peeping out of the window with one person pointing us in the direction of the outdoor toilet. What is it with us and toilets in this country?

It took almost an hour to reassure and persuade the traders and market goers to return, apparently there had been a recent raid and rumours of planned government restructure of the market so all those vehicles and the policemen set off their alarm.

The market shoot was great. I had always wanted to meet the famous female butchers of Benin and the women received me warmly asking after my daughter and complaining about the end of my old show. That market has everything on sale from food to clothes to animals dead and living. There were rumours of human body parts for sale but l did not see any such thing displayed.

I found the market women beautiful and funny and we left the market without any more incidence.


After the market I changed my dashiki top to a Deola Sagoe tee shirt and my flats to heels for a surprise visit to the famous university of Benin. The students mobbed me in no time and the dean of student affairs was welcoming.

However I could sense the tension on the campus and the dean advised that I should not stay too long as they do not encourage large congregations of students who are likely to come around once they know I was on their campus.

Fortunately it started to rain so we could not do much filming. However we still had a few busing over, in half an hour, we had over fifty young people gathered around and growing. I had a quick interactive session with the students and left the campus completely heartbroken.

I found the state of infrastructure awful but more worrisome was the intangibles. Just the way in which the place lacked academia. I thought it was my over sensitive over critical mind playing tricks on me until the DOP from Cape Town came over and said he found the campus depressing. I asked him why and he said he’d had a mental picture of what a university campus was typically like and what he saw was nothing like it, cinematographically unappealing and very sad indeed. I knew he was right, I worried about the students, I worried about the future but it was game night so I joined the boys at their hotel to watch the match.

It appeared Benin had a lot more to offer the boys than football and beer so I returned to my hotel wishing l too could numb my senses with a bit of company, alcohol and twenty two men running after a ball far away from here.

Emotan's Daughters airs on TWF tomorrow 18th April on Africa Magic 6pm local time 7pm central African time.

Also Talk with Funmi is now on Africa Independent Television (AIT) from Monday 19th April, 2010. 11pm Nigerian time

I often have to sneak in and out of the country to stroke my sanity. This is good. What is not so good is that I left my TWF diary at home. Yes there is an actual retro long hand written journal so l will have to do this week’s diaries from memory.

Don’t quote me but I seem to remember that we shot the first part with the priest of the feared holy Aruosa church on May 26th and the next part with legendary Victor Uwaifo next day.

The crew had driven 2 days ahead of us from Lagos whilst we flew into a very grey and depressing Benin late evening May 25th.

We had been informed that we would require additional security in Benin so the police commissioner had been very helpful supplying four fully armed police men in contrast to the plain cloth policemen we used in Lagos and the relaxed policemen in Ondo. The Benin security was tough, tight and very professional. They were also very humane and friendly, we were sad to part with them after the shoot but then I am jumping the figurative gun aren’t l? The one point l must make tough is that the road trip showed me the potential of the Nigerian police if like everything else there was no issue of political corruption, poor funding, inadequate training, appalling salaries and work conditions.

Okay Funmi, stop digressing. We stayed at one of the best hotels in town but it was a shit hole, okay maybe l am biased because it was symbolic of the way in which past administrators had raped this once beautiful state. The entire city was rather jumpy and uptight; a point l made to the information commissioner, my old friend Abdul Oroh when we sat down to a delicious pounded yam dinner at his home. The governor Adams Oshiomhole was out of town so we could not talk with him.

On the morning of the 26th, Bayo and l debated what would be appropriate to wear to visit the Oba and to go to the Holy Aruosa church. Abdul had said that the Oba was cosmopolitan and l could appear there in trousers if l wanted to. I did not think agree, so l wore iro and buba with gele. I can tell you about the encounter with the Oba of Benin but that’s another day’s diary. We filmed the Holy Aruosa church after l survived my encounter with the Oba. Benin was getting on my nerves at this stage and my head was aching from the heat and the tight gele, which l took off and Bayo replaced with a wig.

After all the mystery and hushed tones l had experienced during the research about the holy Aruosa church, l had expected a much more impressive building but the church was pretty nondescript. To enter we were told to pay a “token” so we could speak with the priest. My impression of the priest is better kept to myself and l failed to see the mystery and mythic.

His stories about the origin of Benin would have been really special in a better-appointed edifice and if we didn’t have to “drop something”. The final straw was when l asked to use the toilet and was pointed outdoors to a corrugated iron sheet “shit in my face” contraption. Haba, you mean all the dignitaries who attend this church come here to stoop and pee on past pees?
The rest of the day was spent filming future episodes and searching for a decent meal in town.

Next day May 27th we filmed Sir Victor Uwaifo. Chris had come back from his technical Reece of the location the day before a little lost for words to explain what the professor’s place is like. When we arrived to shot l understood. The place is a cross between a dungeon, a morgue and a museum complete with eerie sound effects and low lighting. In fact the only way we could shoot some of the rooms was with the EOS camera and it is impossible to recreate the mood and ambience of that place. It is something to be experienced.

Sir Victor himself is an energetic, enigmatic mad professor. A restless man of bondless energy and limitless creative expression. His home/museum is a monument to his talent, gifts, career and ego.
I wonder what he must be like in class when he lectures. A legendary musician, TV personality, prolific sculptor, artist, body builder, public administrator and university lecturer, he, his work and his home overwhelm.

We spent an entire day filming and he neither stopped for drink or food nor paused for breath, picking me up unexpectedly at one point like l was feather weight, don’t go there!


We thoroughly enjoyed the time with him and l marveled that they don’t make them like this anymore but also that sir Victor is one example of a few Nigerian aberrations, a mad unstoppable genius expressing him in spite or perhaps because of our often-chaotic existence.

Legends and Myths airs on TWF this Sunday 11th April on Africa Magic 6pm local time 7pm central African time.

Wednesday May 20th 2009
I woke up feeling ill so I suppressed it but my eyes were dead and I was jumpy. Perhaps to hide the ravages, make up and wardrobe took a while but the boys surpassed themselves as you couldn’t tell how poorly off I was in my energy Ankara dress from Deola Sagoe, pillar box red lips and my elaborately rolled up hair. It was fitting for the EKO FOR SHOW edition.

We arrived the lovely Carima d Laurent’s nail place for the shoot and our second subject fashionista/boutique owner Vivian Chiologi had gone AWOL, fortunately Stylist Ifeoma Williams was passing through and as she is always camera ready and fun to talk with, she made a great substitute. I am sure Ifeoma goes to bed perfectly put together.

From Nail place we went to Auto Lounge to film the Bentleys, shame I couldn’t drive one. Carima and I met the exotic store manager who looks and sounds like an East European runway model. I don’t love cars but I like Top Gear and have fantasies of doing the guest lap and meeting the Stig.

From the Bentley shop we drove to Designers club on Awolowo road to talk with the effervescent owner Ndidi and Lighting expert Akin Ariyo who is the first man l ever saw in a wine coloured Oswald Boateng suit off the run way.

Afterwards, I changed and we met up with Senator Toks Afikuyomi, commissioner for tourism who took us on a tour of the smaller islands in Lagos. He has always is jolly and talkative. Filming at a tiny island with two guards was weird. Actually, filming this whole episode was weird as it is such a huge contrast to the life of many Nigerians. I suppose we are not just trying to capture the lifestyle of the tiny percent of the population living in this bubble but the aspiration of others to that somewhat unreal life.

Friday May 22nd 2009
My dad paid me a visit and told me a story of a couple in Badagry where he lives. It is such a medieval story and a far cry from what we had filmed two days ago. I wonder how long these extremes will continue to exist side by side and the possible break point. We finished the rest of the shoot on the famous Prest boat. Lagos on the water at night looks really beautiful.

Afterwards, I changed and we filmed the abe igi conversation with the three okada riders in front of Bonzai the upscale Japanese restaurant in Victoria Island. I cannot seem to get away from those extremes and the unease I feel so I decided to untie the knots in my stomach with a memorable night out with the boys to NEWSCAFE.

Eko for show airs on TWF this Sunday 4th April on Africa Magic 6pm local time 7pm central African time.

Saturday June 6TH 2009
Last night, after the final shoot in Ilorin and fractious flight to Lagos, l got dressed and went out with the girls for Remi’s birthday. I was still in the mental and physical space for filming so I looked somewhat incongruous amongst my dressed down friends. I had missed them. We saw a lousy movie and had a yeye meal at an Italian restaurant with a need to take its face out of its arse.
Went to bed restless at 2a.m and was up and cranky by 5am. Played cards in bed with the shrimp who suddenly seem grown up.

8am and Mr. B had not shown up, maybe bonding with his family too. Called in a stand in but got left behind by the crew. Fortunately I know my way around Ajegunle a little. I had spent a week filming a story here some 14 years ago.

We arrived Jahoha Studios, the spiritual home of most of the musical stars out of Ajegunle. Daddy Showkey is mentioned in reverential tones. He is the ghetto warrior who with that guttural cry led a new musical style and sense of worth out of AJ city. I find that I cannot describe this place I can only feel it. Ajegunle is a sensory overload of sounds, sights, markets and an amazingly diverse mix of faces, cultures and ethnicity. I must say that the place does not feel as threatening as it did during the Abacha days when I came to film earlier and the roads although still bad and incomprehensible appear a lot calmer, maybe because it’s a Saturday.

The one thing I do feel is little, this place makes everything else pale in comparison to her wild energy, colours and pace.
The over crowed houses built shoulder to shoulder, the electric and phone cables coming out of the ears and nose of each house into the ears and nose of the other in a continuous chain. I observed, nay felt all these as I waited for the guys to set up so I could start. It is boiling and my skin is itchy under the make up, which keeps running and needing reapplying. By this time Bayo had arrived and bullied the stand into a corner.


I was introduced to Marvellous Benjy who was soaring on his own high somewhere far far away; it was tough keeping him on track during the interview. I however found him charming, smart and a little delightfully bonkers. The interview was bizarre but revealing.

The whole shoot went well as the community turned out to watch and then dance including the little children. The AJ dancers were amazing and did very little talking, what is the point of talk when you can move like that. I felt like a flat footed duck beside the agile, mobile and flexible people but l do think l may have got the hang of Alanta which is the pride of the community. I learnt also learnt Swo, Kwonto and the still in development Warapa but Alanta is king.

Sunday June 7th
Final day of shoot for the entire series. I was up and ready by 5.30a.m. There are delays, there is trouble brewing, the scale of which didn’t become apparent until months later. One, which almost shut down the entire project.
We returned to Ajegunle and went to the famed Tolu football pitch where many of Nigeria’s ex super eagles has played. It is a sandy schoolyard behind one of the ports and adjacent to one of the denser parts of Ajegunle.

The place is drenched in testosterone and run by a council of elders you would be well advised not to cross. I interviewed the mama 7 boys food vendor who has been there for years and one of the council of elders but the highlight was a display of “balcrobatics” by Amata the star ball juggler with the proud people running continuous commentary.

Afterwards we conducted a street vox pop with young women on the street. We had noticed how well dressed and regal in bearing the women were. So Bayo started searching for best face, style and fashion right there on the street and I talked with them.

My feeling was that I had seen more character, cooler style and red hot attitude on the streets in Ajegunle over this weekend than all the fashion and style magazines on the newsstands. The average babe on the street seems to have more body confidence, personal style and bearing than many diamond draped, Brazilian hair wearing Lagos socialite.

Afterwards I interviewed the very talkative and very sweet old mama Ajegunle who has lived here since independence. She kept trying to give me a drink, they all keep trying to give us a drink or meal. This is the only community in the whole series where the people were offering to give us stuff rather than take stuff off us.

We left AJ city and stopped over at mainframe studios in Oshodi to film Tunde Kelani’s interview for the final part of the Nollywood edition. So it was that after 5 weeks of filming across 4 states, the shoot wrapped. I returned home to pack my bags for my trip to Aspen for a seminar tomorrow then I joined the guys at Tarzan to unwind. I like watching the characters at Tarzan, tonight there was the absolutely gorgeous dark girl with cropped hair and hoops and the wild snake hipped dancing boy. I wonder, what is their story?


Irrepressible AJ CITY airs on TWF this Sunday 28th March on Africa Magic 6pm local time 7pm central African time.

Damn! What a bloody Monday. Just lost my original beautifully crafted intro which l wrote bright and early before my usual fire fighting dramatic day starts. Well here l am in the midst of shit and in no mood to be lyrical.


I will hopefully be able to rewrite those thoughts later in the week but it was to introduce my TEDxEuston talk video which l had refused to post till l found the original script l delivered it from.

So here is the script and then the video, self indulgent yes, indulge me ;).

Re imagination of our stories to illuminate our future)

Let me tell you a shit story.

Tell the story

I was born poor although l did not know it at the time. We moved from one little room to the other, all ten of us. I didn’t feel poor as most people around us were like us besides I was never hungry, at least not in those early days, what I didn’t like was the toilets. About fifty people shared one bath and a pit lavatory. The bath was a discarded corrugated roofing sheet wrapped around three bamboo pillars, since it was out doors and exposed to the elements, its dirty maroon colour was broken by little holes through which neighbourhood perverts peeped at young girl bathing. The concrete floor was always green and slimy so maintaining bare foot balance was important. In all, the bath was better than the pit latrine, which was on a raised platform similarly protected by rusty roofing sheet. It was sort of like squatting on a throne of decay as quite a number of people do not get the aim right and yet some do not make it up there before discharging their contents.

However, we were better off than our neighbours who lived in a house without toilets. It was the last house on a street, which ends at a swamp that doubles as a refuse dump. The people in the next house thus did the most logical thing; they wrapped their wastes in polythene bags, which they threw across their backyard into the swamp. This swamp was also our playground, as we loved to throw stuff at the migrating flamingos. Once, when I was six, as I walked back from the swamp a neighbour miscalculated on her swing and the content of her bag landed squarely on my face. I can still smell my panic as I cried for my sisters. Yelling, breathing, moving all worsened the matter as I got it all into other orifices. It took an hour and the combined efforts of the contrite neighbour and my sisters to wash it all off.

What is the point of this story?

Well it always makes people laugh and it is just that a story, a way of brings situations to life. It’s about the stories…

Things did get a lot worse but we were poor not stupid. My father not only ensured we got an education, he taught me a love for books which painted pictures of life far removed from my reality. These fired my imagination and served as fuel for building the radically different future of my present reality.

Last year I had to shut down my very popular 8 year national talk show, I had become weary of the unending censorship, the failed infrasturure, the corporate corruption and deal making.

I had persevered through the years because, well I am a bit of an idiot and because of the stories.

People always seem to tell me stories, at airports, clubs, bars, and schools, everywhere.

The stories haunted me so I returned to TV this year having persuaded other crazy people like my friend and co producer Chris Dada who sits right there and a single angel investor to support an audacious plan to travel around Nigeria filming as people talk to me. Of course the project is killing us but what amazing stories.

Why do it?

Run still pictures

Because of them. The voiceless majority never allowed to speak for themselves and of themselves.

How do we interpret the stories?

Lord Lugard, the colonial governor general of Nigeria between 1914 and 1919 once said something about Nigeria which Nigerian curiously like to repeat. He said:

“In character and temperament, the typical African of this race-type is a happy, thriftless, excitable person. Lacking in self-control, discipline, and foresight. Naturally courageous, and naturally courteous and polite, full of personal vanity, with little sense of veracity, fond of music and loving weapons as an oriental loves jewellery. His thoughts are concentrated on the events and feelings of the moment, and he suffers little from the apprehension for the future, or grief for the past. His mind is far nearer to the animal world than that of the European or Asiatic,…”

One must forgive him as he spoke the wisdom of his time, his interpretation no doubt coloured by an inflated sense of self-occasioned by the privilege of his life in Nigeria. Surprisingly, I find that many Nigerians think he is right, with the exception of course of themselves.

How will you interpret this video

The ignorant interpreter might call these residents of one of Nigeria’s most notorious urban slums grotesque, thoughtlessly fun loving and uncaring about their future. However the people and youth of AJ city are some of the most hard working, creative, ambitious, endlessly innovative and resilient people you can encounter. Their strong sense of self is at the genesis of the explosion of the new Nigerian hip-hop, rap and pop music which begun here at this house where the boys are dancing. The first generation of internationally successful Nigeria footballers emerged out of her heaving seething bosom. The dance is a poem about their reality. Ajegunle is a reclaimed swamp and mosquitoes are one of the biggest worries for the people so the body grabbing part of the alanta dance and face contortions depicts the war with mosquitoes whilst the moves are a mixture of the dance cultures of the Yoruba, ijaw and ibo settlers mixed with a bit of AJ madness.

The ability to interpret our stories with honour, hope and knowledge is a skill we must seek. This fosters understanding and removes the barriers, which alienates, feeds a festering self-loathing and encourage the sort of head grabbing self-flagellation that promotes devolution of responsibility and lead to anarchy. We should instead interpret ourselves in a way that fires our imagination and ignites our passions. It may yet be our salvation.

I am an idealist idiot yes but it is by choice for what is the alternative?

Play makoko video

When we arrived at makoko, area boys descended on us and threatened to beat us, kidnap the crew and destroy our equipments. Maybe it was fear but l just needed to pee so I asked to use the toilet. Taken aback, they led me through a maze of rooms on stilts to the toilet. This toilet was an exact replica of the slum dog millionaire shit scene but without the beautiful soft focusing of that film. I peed mater of factly and descended into the canoe that took us into the community of the people who live exclusively on the water. Now let me tell you about the water, it is the blackest, dankest, oiliest, smelliest water I ever felt in my life, yes felt, as it was so wrong it had a fetid life of its own. There were large and small pieces of feaces and other wastes flowing calming by as Dami my canoe man‘s paddle sliced through it all. You can smell it and once in a while you might taste it as bits fall off the paddle unto your skin. The people drink water piped through a hole dug into the shallow end of the water through broken pipes which letting in the shit water.

I wondered how they remain sane but slowly through the day as I talked with them and collected their stories of triumphs and failures, fears and measured success; I saw their strength, humanity and our commonality. There were many outstanding stories and some sad ones. But there is one really amazing one.

A one-story building houses the four classrooms that serves the whole community, it was built by some foreigner I was told. There are no seats, no tables, no books, and no teachers for the 130 children who are ferried there free by the community daily. No teachers but for two young boys, secondary school leavers who can barely speak English. They volunteer everyday to teach the children; they are unpaid, their own future uncertain. The other thing I noticed was how all the area boys have slowly shed their aggression on seeing our good intention. I saw these aggressors transform into the confused and sidelined youth they really are and I saw them, as they could have been if we did not have all those decades of ruinous leaders who have consistently thrown shit in the face of the people of this nation, how they maybe still could be.

Go back to the picture of the makoko girl

Perhaps I am an idiot in thinking that like my six year old shit in the face self, this girl who sits upright and bright on the canoe in the shit lagoon can transcend her circumstance, that it is our responsibility to build the systems and structures that will allow her do this.

Yes I am an idealistic fool but I ask again, what is the alternative?

I recently saw the film THIS IS IT having loved Michael Jackson’s music all my life. I was fixated on the part that described the making of the …video, how the six dancers are digitally recreated into a mass of matching warriors as the music climbs to a crescendo

All l want to say is that they don’t really care about us………

The area boys, the prostitutes, the 419ners, the militants, the kidnappers; the desperation is clear in the increasing audacity.

All l want to say is that they don’t really care about us…………………………..!!!!

Music stops. It is very important what stops it and what comes next after the silence. The choice of whether it is strides towards a good society or anarchy such as sub Saharan Africa has never seen lies in all our hands. To be hopeful is not to be blinded to the challenges or fatalistic about its solutions. It is to consciously choose a better vision of ourselves, a vision of what ought to be for our children and grandchildren. One that lights the fires within our bellies and illuminates our way into a brighter future. That is the challenge to our generation, our inevitable hope.

Thursday May 21st
The shoot of EKO 4 SHOW yesterday was achieved through sheer will power and determination. I was visibly unwell and everyone was on edge as we had so many logistic problems. The production manager was fired. We finished so exhausted and so late, Chris suggested I slept over at a friend’s home in Lekki so I don’t need to get up at 4am to beat the rush hour traffic into Victoria Island for today’s shoot. A smart decision as I woke up human again; Bayo, Segun and Lawunmi brought over my supplies from my home, everything from under wear to breakfast.


I was so relaxed I arrived late to Terrakulture where a very annoyed Charley Boy was waiting. Let me tell you about Charley. For my first interview with him 5 years ago at NTA, he came complete with a man mountain bodyguard. He was scary, magnetic, funny, nuanced and simply fabulous. We hit it off. Every subsequent interview and interaction has been just as impactful. He is one of my favourite people, deep, intuitive, intelligent, creative, self aware without being egotistical, seemly contradictory but his excesses even one another out. He is also sexy, his body is to die for and he must be the sexiest grandfather in Nigeria.


The one thing l didn’t mention is that Charley is a consummate professional, he is no drama king and once the camera rolls, he is on point. I admit that I would not have his patience and affability if I had been left stranded at the airport, ended up in a mosquito infested hotel room and then kept waiting on location as he unfortunately was. We fired the person responsible for it.

Once we got started, the shoot went great. It was crazy, unpredictable, funny, revealing and good.

I was dressed in a biker’s gear with charley making fun of the “toy bike” we provided him, l simply hung on for dear life as the machine roared to life and down the road.

The plan was to ride down Ajose Adeogun with a few Okadas maybe 20 and film this before we start shooting the actual interviews. The cameras were all cleverly positioned but it didn’t work that way.

Once Charley started riding down the street and people saw him, hell broke loose. It is indescribably magical what happened as okada men started to converge behind him, I saw they drop off passengers half way and give money back just to follow charley. In 30 minutes, we had over 100 okada riders surrounding us. Traffic stalled and built up with the usually impatient Lagos motorists waving at Charley.

Even the traffic warden and policemen stopped to pump hands and chat. Two moments stand out for me. A machine gun wielding lead patrol Mopol who had come to the head of the crowd to disperse and terrorize all on seeing charley simply transformed, dropping all aggression, they pumped hands and then he politely asked Charley to help disperse the crowd. Also I remember the look of utter shock and confusion on the faces of Chris, Brian, Jeff and Mike when they saw the army of okada lead by charley boy with me hanging on to him riding down the street in clear breach of the shoot plan. The shoot was saved by

Demola the Nigerian second cameraman who swiftly jumped on one of the okadas and got most of the footages that saved the shoot. As usual we seem to function best in chaos.

Charley then took charge of the situation and led the okada riders to the huge clearing at Bar Beach, by now, there were over 200 okada riders in the convoy all excitedly hooting and displaying some mad acrobatics. At Bar Beach, the area boys joined us and it all became a huge public complaint commission with everyone trying to air their grievances.

After that hectic session, we shot an interview with three okada riders one of whom had graduated secondary school with 5 distinctions but unable to continue to higher education had taken to okada riding whilst pursuing a part time degree.
Another was a reggae gospel singer who had submitted his demo to his church overseer for prayers ahead of anticipated success.

Finally we shot my interview with Charley, it was one, which spoke to the heart of Nigeria’s challenges and revealed Charley heart and soul, he also told me about Linda.

TWF’s Okada airs on Africa magic this Sunday March 21st at 6pm local time 7pm central African time.
POST NOTE
Since the shoot, I have had time to look at the footages over and over and try to understand why the people reacted to Charley Boy the way they did. It was not just the okada riders but the bus drivers and their passengers, the passengers who got bumped off by the okadas, the men and women driving to work in their cars, the pedestrians, everybody. The more I looked, the clearer it becomes that this is a revelation of Nigeria’s longstanding leadership vacuum. The people responded to Charley not as himself but as a symbol of touchable, people assigned leadership. A fact he is thankfully evolved enough to recognizes. Too often our leaders are forced on us by rigging, intimidation, manipulation or positioning. It is instructive that the okada riders complained about their once feared association being weakened by the impositions of leaders forced on them who had never rode an Okada and thus are unaware of the unique challenges they face. This comes up again and again in many communities we visited whilst filming TWF. It is replicated on all levels across the country, the real reasons for the displacement and lack of ownership of land, self or resources which is at the root of our stagnation and gradual descent into anarchy as occasioned by the Jos massacre and many other worrying developments.

Do the Zimbabwe farmers employ graduates?
I am informed that the farmers have a lot of graduates in their employ. These graduates include professionals like agriculturists, vet surgeons, marketers, accountants, admin staffs etc. They also take youth corpers, some of whom are retained.

Were you able to talk to the agricultural interns been sponsored by the Kwara State government?
No, although l plan a follow up in depth project.

With the current reforms in the banking sector, has it affected the funding of the farms?
I hear that the 200 billion naira commercial agric intervention fund of the Federal Government is playing some role, as the farmers are processing access to the 10% interest loan.

The Shonga farm is a fantastic project, Nigeria needs more of this. Is there any similar project in other parts of the country?
I am told that Nassarawa State tried to benchmark the project and that they have a group of 20 Zimbabwean Farmers carrying out similar commercial farming activities.

Just like you played football with Governor Fashola, I thought you were going to till the land in Shonga?
Now that would not be very creative would it:)? Each show is clearly thought out, distinct and stand alone.

Episode 6
Tuesday June 2 2009

Trouble, the show plans for Kwara fell through so we all gathered in the morning to plot alternate scenarios, we toyed with going to Ibadan but the consensus was to continue as planned to Ilorin.

We shot Idanre again on our way out of town.

The drive was long but interesting, l like driving through the forest.

Idanre is a seductress lying languidly on the windy road, coyly emerging and dipping out of sight, teasing your senses as the mysterious arms of the forest envelop the road.

In nature, everything is perfectly balanced, in perfect harmony. Idanre is regal, beckoning yet aloof. She is majestic, beautiful, remote, the clouds behind her moving in a hypnotic rhythmic dance of honour. She welcomes you or so you think into her bosom and suck you into her belly. You are ecstatic, yet fearful, will she hug or crush you. Her skin is smooth and silky but for the raised jagged lesions that do not disfigure, but mark her as exceptional.

We arrived Ilorin and our hotel was like something out of a horror movie, like a perfect scene from the shinning. Some of the guys took one look, packed their bags and left. I tried to brave it but the dirt, the life-strangulating stench; the desolation all eventually drove me out. We relocated some people but could not find space for others that night so they got drunk and survived the place in a drunken stupor. We moved them all to other hotels in town the next day.

Highlight of a long tedious day was finding amala, abula and goat meat at 10pm.

Wednesday June 3rd
We had a lucky break. I had badly wanted us to do the story of the Zimbabwean farmers but we were mislead regarding location and distance and I was by then sick and tired of the sharp suit wearing, fake phonetics speaking lau-lau spending crowd at my hotel so we decided to return to Lagos, take a break and finish the Lagos stories.

However one of the guys from SA stumbled on one of the farmers at lunch and got talking, it turned out that the information we got was wrong and we were back on track. Was run down by now so spent the day in the hotel talking with all sorts of people whilst the guys did the Reece and put the logistics together to shoot the Kwara stories. I was struck by the disconnect of the majority of the skirt chasing, contract seekers in my hotel from the reality of the environment. Driving here I had noticed the subsistent farmers eking a living from their little farms whilst hectares of arable land laid fallow and wondered how much longer all the fat dudes in the sharp suits expect the skinny ragged old farmers to continue feeding them.


Thursday June 4THUp at 4am for hair and make up, the guys came late, we quarreled, they got me ready, I sulked, I’m sleep deprived and my allergies are riving me nuts. I studied my fungal toe as we drove through the rough terrain to the Fulani village led by a young guide perpetually chatting on him mobile phone as he rode his Okada ahead of us.

At the sight of the village, my anger vanished; it is so picturesque and clean.
I was charmed; the people are simply stunning to look at but reticent. It took a long while to gain their trust and confidence speaking through an old Yoruba retired nurse and widow who had lived amongst Hausas and Fulani’s up north for most of her life.

It had been tough to find just the right interpreter. The village head was young, alert and unwell, he kept asking for medication for his fever.

The same issues we’ve encountered everywhere are present; malaria, lack of access to water, clinics, schools and electricity. The peculiar concerns here are tsetse flies, which kill the cows and muscular skeletal pains and ailments due to the long treks of the herdsmen. I was pleasantly surprised to find them willing to leave the women and children behind in permanent settlements whilst they remain nomadic just so the children can be educated.

None of the children currently go to school although there are school in surrounding villages. The girls are married off too young and the children loved the jollof rice and chicken we gave them at lunch. They had never eaten jollof rice. We bought wara from the women, wrapped up the shoot and headed out just as it started to pour.

After the rain we drove to the pot making community on the outskirts of Ilorin and the people were the most surly, unresponsive and quarrelsome people ever. It was a bit sad and mercenary, as they kept demanding money. I was glad to be out of that mud and mire, as the shoot was quick and uninspiring.

The rest of the planned communities were just as unlovable and unviable, I was angry at the cynicism of the people even though I understand the cause. I can easily see the contemptuous relationship between the leaders and the lead and the vicious circle of mutual exploitation. We wrapped up an exhausting and mostly disappointing day of shoot and I went to bed a little dejected.

Friday June 5th
It’s my friend Remi’s birthday and we had been filming for 4 weeks, I was terribly home sick. I was up at 5 am and shit faced with exhaustion and malnutrition. The security man at the hotel tried to throw his weight around but by now I had had it with the place. The hotel is a pretentious little shit hole with the ego problems of an emotionally retarded alpha male. She has the pretension of grandiose of the Abuja Hilton without any of its pseudo affluence. She attracts odious political jobbers, laagers and perverts with distended stomach and retracted scrotum.

I pitied the poor new eager GM who was doing his best to reorganize the place. I hope he succeeds. I do admit that by now, I was a tired, frustrated, bloody minded, fire spitting, eye ball rolling, out and out bitch and a frigging diva, but hey it has been one hell of a journey and the place is the pits. I miss my daughter, my bed, my shower, my cook, my food, my friends….I gave myself a mental slap and got a grip.

We drove to Shonga and I had mixed feeling about the Zimbabwean farmers, to be honest I was a little skeptical about the project. I was inclined to see it as another example of our self-loathing and to resent the farmers.

By the end of the shoot, my perception had changed; I was humbled by the human story behind these old men and the loss of their farms in Zimbabwe and starting all over again in Nigeria. I was impressed by the farms and what they had achieved with little and the battles they are fighting. I found the state official Abubakar Kannike refreshingly drama free, knowledgeable, connected and open with information. I knew that this is just scratching the surface of a very important story.



The Shonga farm story had redeemed our Ilorin adventure and we left for Lagos very satisfied. Some of us flew back, others drove back in the convoy; we all arrive Lagos around about the same time to the embrace of my eight year old who had grown a few inches taller in my absence.



Long Road To Shonga airs on Africa Magic Sunday March 14th at 6pm Nigerian time 7pm CAT.

What if this multitude matched to Abuja and

..... demand to see their president now?
..... demand that the culprits of the Jos massacre and all previous such massacre in the past decade be found, prosecuted and executed?
..... demand that power be fixed and all indicted in previous probes on power be treated as above?
..... insist that the president is unfit to rule on account of prolonged ill health.
..... demand electoral reforms and independence of INEC ahead of 2011?

what if?

Funmi, you interviewed the hunter Ogunjimi in Ondo and you looked like you are an actor and this week was on Nollywood. Are you planning to act soon?

Lol. No I don’t plan to act soon. I immerse myself in my subjects; it’s that ease you can see. I am going to interview farmers, pot makers, cattle headsmen, market women, university students, fishermen, pig farmers, okadas, area boys, kings etc in future editions so you will see me fit into each and every one of those worlds. It all looks so dramatic and cinematic because the producer/director Chris dada is a genius.

When are you going to interview the marketers from the Alaba international where most of the Nollywood works are also found?

We are planning season 2 already and stories are coming to us. Something will take us to Alaba market in the future, maybe not Nollywood marketers. I am intrigued by traders in places like Alaba international and Onisha market.

For those of us who want to be an actress, is it compulsory to bribe the producers at LTV as mentioned by the Ebinpejo marketer?
As the stars Kate and Bimbo said, you don’t have to bribe anybody or sleep with anybody if you have talent and are ready to put in the work, this is true for all professions.

What is your opinion about Nollywood?

I share Tunde Kelani’s opinion that it was a child of necessity that has done very well and is embraced by Nigerians and Africans but it is time for literature to meet commerce and skillful film making to create the next generation of Nollywood films.

How were you able to cover that journey from silverbird galleria, Idumota, Winnies and then to Oshodi? Or were they shot on different days?
You must read my TWF diaries; I did mention that it was a long, tough tedious shoot in hot uncomfortable locations and traffic. Kate and Desmond were really great coping with the pressure. We filmed all on the same day except the end bit with Tunde Kelani which was filmed weeks later.