Simon Kolawole
28 June 2009
column
Lagos — It is the year 2049. I am relaxing with my grandchildren after a nice dinner. One of them asks: "Grandpa, did you know Michael Jackson? I've read a lot about him." Without thinking twice, I reply: "Great guy! He was a great guy!" Michael held the world spell-bound for years. He was pure magic. Then he missed his way and went berserk. Everyone seemed to have forgotten about him, only discussing his latest antics once in a while. But when he died, the world discovered that it loved him more than it had realised. There was monumental outpour of grief. We loved him dearly, but we knew not until he was no more.
"But grandpa," one of them asks, "was he not just a singer? What was so special about him? What song did he do that turned the world upside down?"
I smile, my aged lips not failing me an inch, and say: "My girl, Michael Jackson was not just about singing. He was not about a particular song. He was a complete package, an entertainer extraordinary. He was the most energetic and creative dancer the world has ever known. His break-dancing at break-neck speed was not something you could copy. He did it so smoothly you would think it was a machine at work. Then he came up with what he called moon-walking. He would bend forward on his toes and stand still, as if held by some invisible rope. The film trick stuff. He would slide backward like he had a skater under his feet. And he did it so effortlessly "
One of them interjects: "I've seen the dance steps in videos. You would think he was a turbo-charged robot "
"Yes, my son, robot is the word. You know I'm an old man now. I can't remember all those exact words again but I do remember that he did things in his own unique way. He occupied a category by himself. His music videos, for instance, were like mini-movies, full of dramatic scenes. It was not all about music, but the whole ramification of show business. He seemed to be in love with the bizarre, you know, mysteries, myths That was Michael Jackson. Guinness World Record called him the Most Successful Entertainer of All Time. He won 13 Grammy Awards and had 13 number one singles in his solo career. He sold over 750 million albums worldwide."
"Was he your favourite artiste, grandpa? You speak so fondly of him." That is the boy interrogating me.
"Michael Jackson did not need to be your favourite but you just could not but be enraptured by him. Young and old, male and female, every tribe and every tongue Michael was a super star. My grandmother knew him, even if she couldn't sing a word of his songs. Children and youths practised the dance steps forever."
Where were you when he died, grandpa?
"I was a journalist then, an editor with THISDAY newspaper. I had closed for the day and was on my way home when I started receiving calls that MJ was dead. Initially, it did not hit me. I dismissed it, saying the guy had died long ago and was no longer with us. I called to tell your grandmother and she screamed. That was when the news started hitting me gradually. I too was overcome with grief. I needed to include the breaking news in the newspaper the following day. When I got home, there was no light and I had to put on the generator."
"You mean you didn't have bulbs?" That's the boy again.
"I mean electricity. We used to call it light. It's not like these days when you guys are enjoying uninterrupted power supply. In our days, it was uninterrupted darkness. We used to survive on generators."
"What's generator, papa?" That's the little girl, the youngest of them all.
"Generator is extinct now. It was a household item in those days, with all the noise and the pollution. Things have changed a lot. I was reading a newspaper columnist today complaining about the poverty rate estimated at 5.5 per cent. In our days, it was 70 per cent! Life expectancy is 70 years today. It was 50 years in those days. You guys are enjoying first-class roads now. In our days, it was potholes all over the place while government officials and politicians were swimming in looted public funds."
"You must have suffered a lot, grandpa," my eldest granddaughter said, patting my back and playing with my bald head. "It must have been hell those days."
"Hell was better, sweat heart "
"Our generation is clearly better than yours." The boy again.
"Yes, but your generation did not have Michael Jackson. He was a rare breed. There are people who come once in a while. You don't get their type everyday. MJ was one in a million. Different generations have had iconic figures, people who shook the world with knowledge, power and talent, people who were pioneers, thinkers and innovators, freedom fighters, history makers Isaac Newton, Adam Smith, Charles Darwin, Karl Marx, Albert Einstein, Bill Gates, Nelson Mandela, Fela, Pele, Maradona, Zinedine Zidane Jay Jay Okocha, Chinua Achebe, name them. I am proud to tell you I watched the Jackson story unfold. I only read of William Shakespeare, but I watched Jackson. I was not told I saw history myself."
"But Michael looked like a monster." That boy.
As an old man, I'm unable to burst out laughing the way I would love to, but I manage to laugh all the same.
"Yes, boy, he was confused about his identity. That was the real tragedy. Before he was born and when he was a kid, blacks were not very welcome in the US. They were treated as an inferior species of human beings. In some states, blacks were not allowed to go to certain schools or eat at certain restaurants. So, black people had an inferiority complex. They ended up in trades that needed just natural talent as nobody was willing to train them in engineering and medicine."
"You don't mean it, papa!" That's my little girl.
"It was that bad. But one bloke called Barack Obama came from nowhere to be elected the first black President of the United States in 1988 "
"You mean 2008, papa "
"That's right, 2008. But by then, MJ had disfigured himself. He was neither black nor white after so many cosmetic surgeries. The best African-American entertainer was nowhere to be found when the world was celebrating the first African-American President. He just didn't belong anymore. Ironically, when he was black, he was so handsome, cute boy, sweet boy, with a golden voice. His ballads would move you to tears. Incredible boy. He was the lead singer of Jackson 5."
"At what stage did he lose it?" This boy won't kill me.
"When he decided to go solo, he was not really sure if the white world would accept him. Then he made the mistake of his life - he decided to become a white man. It was a fatal mistake. He started changing the shape of his nose and the texture of his hair and the colour of his skin. The blacks were bemused, the whites amused. You don't change your race! Not so fast. MJ became a laughing stock. He was still a little bit black when he released 'Thriller', the biggest selling album in human history with 30 million units sold. He looked white when he released 'Bad' - about the only good album that he recorded after 'Thriller', although 'Dangerous' did make some impact. He had so much money he thought he could buy anything, including a white skin. His life was never the same again as he began to jump from one trouble to the other until his sudden death."
"Sad story, papa "
"Sad story."
"Did he have any links to Nigeria?"
"None. He never visited the country. The chairman of our newspaper then, Nduka Obaigbena, who will be 90 years old next month, once said he would like to bring him. There was a magazine called 'Akapa's Top Magazine' which claimed Jackson was in love with a Nigerian girl and wanted to marry her. We were all excited. The magazine said the song, 'Liberian Girl', was to be entitled 'Nigerian Girl' but Michael did not want the secret out so soon, so he changed the title. We believed it. It turned out to be false. The magazine died a natural death when all its lies were exposed."
It's time to go to bed, boys and girls. As I put my youngest grand daughter to bed, she holds my hand tightly and draws me closer to herself.
"Are you okay, papa? You look sad "
"You're right, my girl. Michael's memories are flooding in afresh. I loved him. God made him to be great. But he was confused. He might have missed his way and missed God's purpose for his life, but he was special. Honestly, Michael was a Phenomenon "
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And apparently the author of this article doesn't understand that Michael had a kind of skin cancer that made his skin mottled--with white patches, and that his skin bleaching was to hide this condition, not his race, which he had on several occasions proudly declared himself to be. Also his nose and plastic surgery was discovered by accident after he broke it and needed surgery...or at least that's what I understand, and the first surgery wasn't left him with breathing problems so he had a second surgery done and that is when he, while he was at it, asked the surgeon to make his nose smaller. I think Michael Jackson continued to have nose jobs not because he wanted to be white, but because he had a low self esteem, thanks to his father. And yes I think his story is all in all, very sad. As for God creating white people first--interesting, considering the origins of the entire race is widely believed to be in Africa. I suspect the first humans were actually black, not white. But whatever. I'm not a believer in god at all, so the notion that such a being created whites first and then realized his mistakes and then came up with an improved model is rather laughable.
Is "Dr." Abati a medical doctor? The last time I read his bio, he is a journalist. Only in Nigeria is every dick and harry referred to as a Dr., an Egnr., a Barrister, SAN, Chief, Asiwaju, Turaki, Alhaji…even a mere Mr. will still have an Esqr, at the end of his name. Like Michael Jackson's Kaddafi’s epaulets and glitter, an honorary degree in Nigeria has becomes an official appellation appended to the honoree to be worn as a pendant - a la (Dr.) Turai YarAdua. I guess every Nigerian Jim and Jill's egos need to be massaged to feel a sense of importance - I think there is a name for that complex. What's the word...?
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