Sunday, 19 October 2008
Posted by Ade Adeyemi at 13:51
Monday, 13 October 2008
But here goes, so the magazing SPEAR has decided to make my segment Sex, Love, Relationships and because it has my name to it .... IT MUST ROCK!
So this is how we're gonna play it... I need anyone; male(I am very interested in what the guys have to say on SEX and LOVE and Relationships).... , female that is interested in doing an article that falls under this segment... so is it a story, an agony aunt/ uncle type thing, a collection of funny sexual stories, an interview on an extremely sexy person, a collaboration with a charity, a photoshoot, anything, some really hot chics and dudes that would just make us all drool,lol, and we will make it rock... See guys I am not playing, this is one project you definitely want to be a part of it... Oh BTW it is African, not Nigerian, not Ghanaian... so come aboard. If you also have no idea what you want to write on, let me know there are loads of ideas here ... so please holla at ur gurl.
My segment must rock I ain't even playing oh!...can't wait to hear from y'all!
Posted by Ade Adeyemi at 13:24
Friday, 10 October 2008
The man on the other side of that gate was a man I had gotten to know too well, for he had been an integral part of my existence, perhaps even the most important man that I would ever have the honour of meeting. He had single-handedly shaped the path my relationships with men would take, he had sown ‘mind seeds’ of how I would allow the men that would eventually come into my life to treat me and he had groomed me to be an ‘almost arrogant, somewhat cocky woman with a heart of gold’ and a warrior’s sprit. Yes, he was an Enigma...
I walked up to the ‘gatekeepers’, two old men sat in the evening sun, deep in conversation. cavernous wrinkles and tribal marks clamoured for space on faces with skin as thick as hide, very shakily, in my native ‘Yoruba’,
‘Ejo Sir, Se Oga wa n le?’(*1), I asked
It had been five years since I had touched these gates, five years since I had walked these grounds and five years since I had seen 'the man'.
His problems began five years ago, prior to that he had lived an amazing life. He had lived a life most men only dreamed of; fast cars, faster women, houses in every prominent city on the globe, excesses I’m too afraid to mention and an insatiable appetite for spontaneity. The floodgates of my mind were open as the memories poured in. It had been exciting times and he had lived like the rich had the inability to ever cry; Five chefs , Six chauffeurs, Two Swimming Pools, A house he had meticulously designed and built, five fish ponds, A Tennis Court, Squash court and the games room... how could I forget that; I had learnt to play Billiards there.
Some say his reckless life style had eventually caught up with him, others say the ‘ones’ he lived amongst had set the wrath of the gods upon him mentioning his name in the shoddy homes of herbalists and voodoo priests, others said the Nigerian government had changed the economic rules at the wrong time and ‘entrepreneurs’ had taken the hit, He said everyone around him was a ‘witch’. For when a man that wealthy takes a fall so hard he can barely stand, it is absolutely normal that he would seek to blame his misfortune on something, someone , anything. I shrugged... a cold fever coursed through my veins...
This one was definitely a man of excesses. Memory after memory, my mind drifted. The smile formed ever so gently. It was a smile of painful sorrow, one that uttered its own silent cry, a paradox that’s what it was. But that was what he was. ‘The man’ right? He was definitely a paradox. For the way I remembered him was very different from what most people said at the funeral....
I had no idea how long the elderly man had been talking to me, he tapped me ever so gently waking me from my reverie and said; ‘Tele mi’ (*2) . He motioned, I followed.
The walk from the gate to the main building took approximately ‘8 minutes’. I took the surroundings in casually. It had all changed; the unmistakable stench of defeat infiltrated the place. Things were definitely worse than I had anticipated. My heart bled as the gatekeeper briskly led me through the tarred road towards where the man sat. I cowered behind his feeble frame not knowing what to expect, for one of the things I remembered the man for was his temper.
The gatekeeper stood straight, addressed the man, by his first name, ‘Tunde... Kehinde fe ri e?’ (*3)
The man looked up ‘Kehinde wo?’ (*4) he asked in a near whisper
‘Kehinde (*6) Ti Wa’,(*5)
The gatekeeper’s word were like salve to blind eyes, it suddenly dawned, I was home, I belonged here. I held on to his words and walked into ‘the man’s’ presence.
One look at me and the tears rolled down his face. He looked so much older and had lost so much weight. I wasn’t sure how, but my well groomed, incredibly handsome, strong and powerful father had aged overnight. I knelt before him, hugged him and cried for what seemed like forever, I looked up and wiped his tears...
It didn’t matter what the last 20 years had held, it didn’t matter what mistakes he’d made. All I saw were my father’s tears, I saw a full grown man, a man aged above his years, a man that wore a garment of pride humbled by the site of ‘his daughter’, ‘his seed’ and his child!
It didn’t matter what the world said... with that singular act. He convinced me that ‘He Loved Me!’
Shortly after, I moved to the UK. I must have seen him about 3 times after that memorable day and spoken to him once, maybe twice. Four years later he died... February 25th 2003,Abayomi ,My youngest brother’s birthday. Trust him to pick a date we’d never forget.
I had bought my ticket to come home in March. What was the rush why couldn’t he wait?
Its five years and the pain’s still raw. The past few weeks have been tough, tedious and emotionally draining. I moved out of London to take on a contract with IBM in the Nederlands and I really miss everyone.
The others I’ll see in a few weeks but him, it will be a lifetime. My Daddy, he was definitely something else... What happened to the age of Innocence? He’s gone now, but he gave me some of my best memories and that’s what I have today ... Precious memories
Babatunde Michael Adeyemi; (1945 – 2003)
Omo Amofeso, Omo Oba Dansa aki... Sun re o!
*1. Excuse me Sirs, Is the man of the house home?
*3. Tunde, Kehinde is here to see you
*4. Which Kehinde are you referring to?
*5. Our Daughter, Our Own ,Kehinde,
*6. Rest in Peace
*7. Yoruba name given to twins.
*** Guys I completely aplogise for not doing the blog rounds, as explained ... I have been dead busy, thanks for the comments so far, Thought I'd give editorial a break and please let me know if you want to write for the magazine!***
Prettig Weekand... Have a good weekend.
Posted by Ade Adeyemi at 18:22
Tuesday, 30 September 2008
Friends, Family, Fans and Well wishers.... I need your help!
A group of fresh, innovative and very exciting and excited (too excited - if you ask me) young African professionals have decided to try their hands at this awesome project, of which I am highly interested... somehow they managed to get me to buy into their dream and their vision. However!!!!!!!!! The project management consultant in me has somehow overpowered the dreamer and writer in me... Hence the rise of the 'feasibility report'. So Guys I really need your help and your input:
First: Can you wonderful writers and bloggers , please. please, please, please (is that too many pleases) take the time out of your very busy schedules and blog trots to complete the survey below, its 3 questions and will take literally 2 minutes, if that! We need to have received the answers to the survey by close of play 04/10!
Secondly: If you are interested in writing for this publication, kindly send me an email at firstname.lastname@example.org and let's talk some more, or just send thru your articles. There will be no plagiarism, you will be recognised, you do not have to write as your self, we have pseudonyms for that and you can keep your anonymity... if you want to be extra careful, u can ensure that it is legally binding... heck these guys are so savvy they have a lawyer in their core team! Potential topics are sexxxxxxxxxxx, food/restaurant reviews, entertainment, health, real life scenarios ...anything!
Finally: We need hilarious stories, dead funny stories on anything, a mishap during sex, a really silly faux pas!, a cosmetic disaster, a bad hair day, a piercing malarchy, a student's folly, anything and everything! The key however is to personalise it .... Please personalise. It should be a maximum of 500 words and funny as hell. Once again all I need is a first name and location.
We will ensure that privacy rights are maintained, information is preserved and the publication is of excellent quality. Trust me with the mission, vision and backing these guys have ... you would really want to consider being a part of this! Thanks people! I wouldn't be a part of it otherwise... lol!
Posted by Ade Adeyemi at 04:44
Thursday, 25 September 2008
A few days ago I stumbled on the 'face book war' between 9ice, 'Yoruba' artist ('Gongo Aso') and K16, 'Igbo artist', proclaimed 'Saviour of Naija Hip-hop'. My highly inquisitive mind somehow wouldn't let it go. On delving further, the particulars of the story were clear cut, or so I thought:
July 2008: Alapomeji records (9ice’s label and Krystal promotions entered a contract where 9ice agreed to do a show at the Ambassador theatre in Dublin on the 19th of September. K16 was a supporting act.
18th of September: 9ice refused to board the plane from Nigeria to the UK, his excuse was 'My body dey do me somehow!'.
Pre 'My Body dey do me Somehow': Krystal promotions had paid 9ice 10,000 Euros, had spent 40,000 Euros on planning and promotions and had sold tickets to a host of eager 9ice/K16 fans.
Post 'My body dey do me Somehow': K16's camp was presumably licking its wounds and counting its losses. They had spent time and funds promoting the event and had lost all.
Krystal gets angry, K16 gets angry
'20th of September': K16, Miss Diva and Unseen released the 9ice diss track, at the end of the track they have 9ice on tape confirming that he would attend the show and inviting fans.
22nd of September: 9ice's management release a note explaining that 9ice couldn't get a visa to Dublin hence the ‘no show’, they apologise to the fans informing them that Krystal promotions had suggested that there was an illegal route of entry into Dublin that 9ice could use easily. They also said that 9ice's life had been threatened.
23rd of September: Krystal promotions release a statement giving their side of the story and defending their reputation.
Post 22nd of September: Forums have been set up, articles written, lives have been threatened (both K16 and 9ice allegedly) and there's a lot of hate mail going back and forth... and I guess we have Nigeria’s first 'music war'.
As I read through the various statements, listened to the diss track and watched the reactions of their fans... I came to the singular conclusion that the entire situation was ludicrous to say the least. The lack of professionalism was ridiculous.
The evidence was screaming out, 9ice and Alapomeji records were in clear breach of their contractual obligations. They had confirmed that 9ice would be in Dublin and had been paid 10,000 Euros upfront and he ‘didn’t show’.
His management then released a statement on the 22nd of September, 3 whole days after the show was to be held, saying that he couldn’t get a visa.
Why wasn’t a statement released earlier? Why weren’t alternative arrangements made and what the heck does ‘My body dey do me somehow’ mean? 9ice wouldn’t be the first artist to cancel a gig, the bone of contention here is the manner in which it was done.
For me, this was much bigger than an uneducated artist doing a ‘no-show’. It was the ‘Naija factor’ all over again, it was the incessant desire certain Nigerians had to dirty everything they touched, and it was a total lack of consideration for people; promoters, fans and supporting acts.
Hard as I tried to, I really couldn’t understand it; the entire situation didn’t make any sense to me. It was even harder to accept that some of his fans were not only patting him on the back but were condoning his actions. Did they realise that their sycophantic conduct could only be detrimental to them in the long run?
If you had asked me a few days ago who K16 was, I would have stared at you blankly, batted an eyelid and slowly mouthed the word ‘who?, probably followed by a very quick ‘huh?’
At this stage I’m somewhat intrigued to hear what this ‘Saviour of Naija Hip-hop’ has to say. I listened to the diss track; it was funny, to the point and so much softer in comparison to the heavily violent lyrics ’50-cents’ is notoriously known for. The one thing that continuously struck me was the veracity that it was ‘intelligently and tastefully done’. It started with a mock phone call from 9ice, a slight recount of ‘the story’ and ended with 9ice on tape confirming his attendance in Dublin... I reiterate, intelligently executed!
Anyone can clearly see that this was not a direct assassination of his music; it was a statement of his failure to meet a service that he had initially advised he had the resources to deliver. It was a direct exhibition of his nonchalant and carefree character, an exposé of his substance or the lack thereof and hopefully a lesson well taught.
As Nigeria as a nation experiences exponential growth in its various faculties, there is clearly a crucial need for a paradigm shift; a brutal remodelling of our minds has become essential. Needless to say the road to achieving this would not be easy.
If it requires making examples out of individuals like 9ice, then why not? If it means that the next big artist would ensure that he is adequately prepared, organised and ‘planned’ so that he meets his next commitment, then why not? If even it means that one fan would never again buy a ticket in vain ... then why not?
As I put my pen to rest, I silently pray that as Nigeria evolves dramatically there is a synonymous revolution in our minds and our hearts.
‘Gongo Ti So O’ and maybe ... just maybe ... Naija hip-hop has truly found its voice and ... saviour...
*Should you choose to listen to the track, be advised that it contains some strong language. I am therefore stamping a virtual parental advisory badge on it. After all it is hip-hop*
Posted by Ade Adeyemi at 07:49
Thursday, 18 September 2008
The photo I have put up is one of me; however for me it represents a million and one things, a voice, a statement, but most importantly an expression of my creativity and of self.
The background I’ll give briefly: I’m a member of the ‘photography network ‘Shutter Chance’ and there are quite a few Nigerians on it. There was a bit of a ‘tiff’ when certain photographers started posting nude photos and certain others decided that SC needed to put up a ban against these. Personally I thought it was ridiculous , so I did 'unashamed'. Photography is to some an art and to others a craft. The Stanford Encyclopaedia of Philosophy simply states that the definition of art ‘is controversial in contemporary philosophy’. Those who dare to define art, come up with ambiguous and unclear definitions as:
‘Art refers to a diverse range of human activities, creations, and expressions that are appealing to the senses or emotions of a human individual’
What the heck does that mean? Basically it is dependent on the irrational, malleable, unstable, radical, controversial, changeable, mind of the earthling. Art is what the individual wants it to be, no one is saying accept it… just let every one decide what they want their view of art to be!... after all the SATC character, Russian ‘Aleksander Petrovsky’s’ rendition of Art was a dirty, silent, unemotional, size 12 chic not eating for 16 days (I think) being on display at a museum. For some, that denial of self was extremely soulful and emotional, for others like ‘Carrie Bradshaw’, it was a joke. Da Vinci’s rendition of art was a man with perfect symmetrical features; ‘The Vitruvian Man’, Dan Brown’s art was a fictional tale of the mysteries that surrounded the ‘art legend, Da Vinci,’ and a summation of weird, dark and almost undecipherable messages he had woven into his paintings…
As I look continuously to art as an expression of creativity and of self, the need to see what the world perceives as normal becomes inconsequential… I tend to look for what I like and what I find fascinating and acceptable. I was initially going to call this piece; ‘Art vs. Porn’, then ‘Normal vs. Avant Garde’ … it suddenly hit me that this is not a competition of antonyms.
The view decided upon is solely the viewer’s, that’s the beauty of art. The only thing I do ask is that you comment respectfully should you choose to, as I do not subscribe to destructive criticism… my point is don’t make it personal… ‘Live and let live’
Posted by Ade Adeyemi at 04:33
Tuesday, 16 September 2008
I decided that I'd start with a somewhat editorial piece... one I guess could eventually go into a magazine, so kindly bear with the very impersonal feel of this. Fashion has always meant a lot to me. The sight of Louis Vuitton garments on the catwalk is extremely orgasmic. I shamelessly covet the worst seats in Fashion Week as elitist Parisians, Londoners and NewYorkers watch the 'laborious sleepless nights' excellently demonstrated in the form of beautiful garments on wiry hangers the world has labelled 'zero'.
Margiela is an enigma… commonly referred to as ‘the insiders’ label in certain circles, at some stage he was rumoured not to actually exist… a myth!
The Belgian born designer studied at Antwerp’s Royal Academy of Arts; which proudly lays claims to industry giants; Ann Demeulmeester and Dries Van Noten.
In 1984 he became assistant to Jean Paul Gautier for a few years, going on to open up his own line in 1988, where I guess for him was the perfect excuse to demonstrate his controversial idea of fashion.
Margiela stormed the fashion scene with weird jackets that had seams on the outside, a cobwebbier spin of loose threads and long sack like skirts. It wasn't long before the fashion world labelled him ‘deconstructionist’ as he became known for creating his pieces from flea market rejects.
I guess the industry was in for a greater shock when they realised that this ‘mass of contradictions’ was nowhere near done just yet. He went on to show his none conventional collection in non conventional locations. Elle puts it this way:
‘Margiela, a pioneer not just of conceptual clothes but of conceptual show venues, was dragging fashion editors to rubble strewn wasteland in the dead of the night long before any London designer with an avant-garde sensibility thought to do so’.
I assume nothing else Margiela did could possibly come as a surprise to the industry, but this Belgian was not going to succumb to standards raised by mere men, no Margiela had his own ideas, as he began to show off his clothes on ‘real women’. The concept behind that was simple. He didn’t feel he needed ‘size zero models’ to wear his clothes, insisting that his pieces were beautiful on any woman.
He went on to sell a major stake in his business to ‘denim mogul’, Renzo Rosso’, multi millionaire owner of Diesel. The headlines must have read ‘mysterious fashion designer turns shrewd businessman’.
It all sounds very dark and cult like. The intense mystery that surrounds Margiela only makes him more interesting. Do people really crave what they cannot have?
After reading a four page article in Elle, I was left with more questions than answers. ‘Did Margiela even exist?’ In 20 years no media house, has ever been granted a face to face interview with this epitome of talent, hugely admired across borders.
The one thought that did cross my mind was that 'he' could well be a ‘Martina Margiela’; yes a woman… . I had no idea.
Maison Martin Margiela embraces extremely strong values and principles such as ‘honesty’ and ‘equality’. His craft is seen in almost every facet of his expression of creativity. His garments are worn by women of style the world over; Sarah Jessica Parker, Roisin Murphy, Rachel Bilson, Asia Argento, to mention a few.
I on the other hand would remember Martin Margiela or Maison Martin Margiela for his depth and the words:
Posted by Ade Adeyemi at 15:07