Nigeria’s National Theatre, that white elephant that sticks out like a sore thumb, oozing like an ulcer at the middle of the Iganmu swamp, is symptomatic of all the ills that threaten to bury the nation permanently. Just a glance speaks volumes about the degeneration of a nation that promised to be a giant at birth but has turned out to be a cretin. It speaks of the squandering of riches reported in a documentary of the same title, and of leadership that seems to have no progressive ideas, no vision! The edifice amplifies mindless, insatiable greed and the penchant for kleptomania. It riotously displays a bacchic spirit that yells, “eat, drink and be merry for tomorrow we shall die!” It betrays a deep and irrational sense of entitlement; to reap where you do not sow! It does not matter how bright tomorrow can be, generation-next is not a concern; they will abandon Tomorrow to fend for itself.
FESTAC was like the whale that got stranded on the beach. The first respondents to its predicament came, not as rescuers but as scavengers, carrying long carving knives and buckets to harvest pounds of meat. The carcass they left behind remains for all to see – the living dead, silently but fruitlessly questioning the conscience of a nation, questioning whether it has any!
The Theatre arrived from Bulgaria – copy and paste – with hardly any attempt to adapt the structure to our cultural or artistic needs or plan for maintenance. Some observers said it was imported by the ruling colonel at the time because it looked incredibly like his cap.
It was not exactly designed for the tropics or to be serviced by an ECN or NEPA or for when the power problem would change name to PHCN (Problem Has Changed Name).
In its place of birth, I hear it was designed more for Sports than for theatrical performance. There, it had a rotating stage in the main hall. It came with that too but it was one of the first, if not the first facility to die.
It initially housed great restaurants and facilities that could pamper the visitor long enough for the Theatre to become his/her addiction. But once the festival was over and the world looked away, the “whale” was deboned, stripped of its flesh. Grand pianos and other equipment, and records of the performances at the festival ‘Caspered’! They became ghosts. Even the village built in its name, miles away from the venue got gutted by indigenous worms. FESTAC Village used to be a proud reminder of the festival. Now it is a sad reminder that our malady is endemic and fatal, with prejudice!
I don’t know that I should believe what the media and the litter of economic and political experts say about who is doing what, contributing what and how much; to who or where. Should I believe who they say is better than whom or why they say what they say? I don’t know! Who is speaking? For whom? Whose opinion is it? Which of the exits are their opinions emerging from?
Nigerian artists are and have been winning international/global awards and I don’t mean just the ones who were raised on hamburgers and fried chicken. Since that is so, one would think it is obvious that Nigeria ought to pay greater attention to a cultural and entertainment sector that has such great capacity to earn revenue instead of treating the sector like that part of the yam that you throw away to feed the goats. They must be greater revenue earners than the white elephant projects for which monies are appropriated yearly. And with enough room to steal, too! But, clearly, there is no plan for the sector to grow, to succeed. It’s merely a rack where remnants are left, reward for “the loyal boys” – ‘bafana- bafana’! Just take a look at the list of the entities who have ever been appointed as administrators, managers or ministers for the sector and you’ll understand that I am not speaking in tongues.
I acknowledge that much has changed over the years and that Nigeria’s economic universe makes the performing artist a lot worse than he was in the last few decades. Perhaps that’s even an understatement. It has always been difficult to follow trends or practices in Nigeria’s educational sector in which a Minister once declared that Education was not a priority. I know he was not fired, but I can not remember whether he got national honours for his unique perspective. What I know is that some days we have woken up to discover that the Nigerian youth has been stripped of the right to study History or Civics, subjects that define his person, his relationship with and responsibility to his nation. So don’t blame me for not being sure whether Nigerian Universities still teach Theatre Arts, or whether they have film schools and what quality of teaching goes on there. There is more information media about sex for grades in the media space!
The Theatre provided a post- graduate school at Abe igi, where alcoholic beverages bought shares. There, “the professional” got more lessons on Bacchic rites than Theatre practice. Naturally, and because the Universities didn’t teach them the “business” of their trade, they were more likely to view that edifice called the National Theatre through the bottom of beer bottles and, to wake out of their hangover fully preoccupied with counting the cost of akara-agege bread sandwich without discovering how to resolve the puzzle permanently.
Many even have a grey perspective of the relationship between Theatre, Film and Television. They live in the ‘analogue age where Theatre was an umbrella body for all of them and have missed the significant difference commerce has made. They can’t develop a show and market it, raise funds for it. No one taught them how. They can’t write a proposal. And even if they did, the other social diseases of tribe and the neglect of merit kick in. They could be disqualified for their looks or the unpronounceable names they bear. Or, simply, for unwillingness to pay on demand!
During Babangida’s regime (I think) a new regime of trade unions was declared. I believe it was nine, of them and one of them was RATTAWU which was to serve as the umbrella union for all of the Arts sector including Radio and TV which made the Civil Service its main constituency. When Actors woke up to the need for unionism, they did not check the modalities. They looked at NBA, Nigeria Bar Association, and NMA, Nigeria Medical Association and concluded that to become a trade union, all they had to do was register an Association with Corporate Affairs. It was impossible to convince my friends that becoming a trade union required more legislative endorsement or certification! But that was no surprise because many “professionals” cannot endure the rigours of research. The misconception has given birth to many paper tigers.
In the early 1980s, a few young men, like Jide Ogungbade, started a movement, self initiative which could have propelled a budding industry but death killed it; death at the hands of the usual suspect – a disease that our governments also suffer –the kokoro syndrome – the kokoro inside the kokanut! In the unexpected circumstance that the leader has good intentions, his followers do not often share his agenda. They are more often jolly good fellows in for the ride and the thrills.
Also, too many people have an extremely poor vision, due to the quality of training or exposure, or lack of both or, as the case may be, personal defects. And some are unwilling to be trained or they prefer to drown in their sense of entitlement. They believe they are owed. They believe that they have a right to be indolent, to wait for government. Manna stopped falling from heaven before we learned to read the holy books but they haven’t noticed. They cling religiously to their desires without asking how they will come to pass. We want the benefits of developed nations but shut our eyes and minds to the sacrifices their citizens make.
I doff my hat for Segun Adefila and his Crown troupe. He has refused to lay claim to or demand entitlements that do not exist. He has been on his pilgrimage, his journey of independence for years now. There are a few others like him but he has been most consistent. And he has carried others along.
In the early 1980s, some guys, Sam Loco and others, tried to establish performance spaces around Iganmu and Ebute Metta. There was a fine, very intimate Theatre in the Apapa Club also. And, those were eventful years; years in which movements began that could have given artists solid footing, some independence. We did not take them..
With the cooperation of many young people, I launched a project called MASK PARADE. The idea was to start a movement that would make it possible for performing artists to establish their own funds and create an independent artist community. The idea was simple and would make it possible to generate, independently, some form of endowment fund that would be ours; that would save us the agony of going cap in hand to uncaring, overfed civil servants. and returning disappointed.
Artists would invest their talents, simply donate a large percentage of proceeds from the shows (personal expenses paid for) as contributions to the fund. Those who did not go on stage would contribute technical input. That was the idea.
Colonel Akogun, in my opinion, one of the most productive Executives that the National Theatre has ever had, was the Sole Administrator. Mr Frank Aig-Imoukhuede was Secretary of the National Council of Arts and Culture.
Between you and I, I often wonder if it is not a tale of the tail wagging the dog that the Council is not overseeing the Theatre. But that’s another matter.
The National Theatre gave us N5,000 (five thousand naira) which, believe me, was a large some of money at the time (along with great bureaucratic hustle to actually collect it). We were also granted the free use of the Theatre which included the halls and its surrounding grounds.
The NCAC also gave us another N5,000 (five thousand naira) and encouraged all the
State Councils to make representations at the festival.
The promise was big. We dreamt of a festival that would hold, for starters, every four years and to which we could invite Africans in the Diaspora. Participants would be able to display their arts and crafts and artefacts, and foods in the tents around the grounds while performances went on in the halls..
The youths were excited. Many attended rehearsals at their own expense. They were passionate, hungry for success, for a major breakthrough, the prospect of growing an industry! They marched and danced through the streets of Lagos promoting the festival. Their enthusiasm, their thirst brought tears to my eyes. Hakeem Shitta could not stop clicking his camera. In the end it was dead on arrival! We failed them.
The people I relied on the most, the colleagues I thought would see my vision most clearly apparently could not. The youths saw it. Their hopes soared. But many others had other priorities and the chain is only as strong as its weakest link. Some people were more concerned with Titles: Should it be ‘Chairman’ or ‘President’? ‘Secretary’ or ‘Secretary General’? Who should it be? Would we have an office at the National Theatre or rent one… perhaps, build a mansion…! In Lagos and with headquarters in Abuja?
We lost track and the operating dream died while they were at it. We never recovered.
Years down the line, Aremo Tope Babayemi, tried to resurrect parts of the decaying (former) premises of the Arts Council (NCAC) and turn it into an organized performance centre for freelance artistes A power drunk barbarian brought gun wielding security officers and bulldozers, wrestled all resistance to the ground and razed the place to the ground. We did not even qualify to be appeased.
In what language do we need to be told that our destiny is in our hands? We have to determine what legitimate route we take!
To speak the truth to each other:
- Let’s borrow a leaf from Segun Adefila and Crown Troupe.
- Let’s drop this sense of entitlement. It does not exist.
- Every artist may aspire to have their show at the National Theatre but the National Theatre does not owe every artist or production Company the right to use its facilities.
- There are constitutional routes to right wrongs and as long as our governments pretend to be democratic, let us explore those routes and stop wasting words on entitlements we don’t have.
- We can force them to drop their sheep’s clothing and bare their teeth or do the tight thing.
- Politicians listen to numbers.
- They fear losing power. There is strength in numbers and we have enough numbers.
- Communication is our forte and no power is more formidable. We can make them do the right thing or lose what is dearest to their hearts. We have the skills and the manpower. But we must understand the system and how to navigate it.
How do the managers sleep at night after each day inside what must smell like a tomb? How much can the human spirit endure? Our national Theatre betrays the death of national aspiration. A character in Wole Soyinka’s play declares, “We have lost our sense of self-disgust”. We have lost our collective conscience.
It probably sounds politically correct to say that, universally, a National Theatre is not for
all comers. But the way things are, because the facility itself is dying from disuse, commonsense dictates that its administrators should find new and creative ways to put it to use in order to save the heritage put in their care. There is a need to collaborate with the community it was built to serve. And, urgently! What better way than to selectively open the doors to those who can use it effectively and efficiently, and make us proud of it?
Unless, of course, the ‘dogs in the manger’ are agents of the people we know – those vultures out there who are waiting in the wings for an excuse to grab that massive piece of prime real-estate for peanuts and build casinos or other commercial structures to feed their greed. We know it is in their interest to leave it in incompetent hands to quicken the decay!
- Ihria Enakimio is a Nigerian media professional, podcaster, TV presenter, producer, director, and public relations expert, renowned for insightful storytelling.
