SO HELP WE, GOD!
-By Ihria ‘Ehi Enakimio
I remember John Chukwu (JayCee) – stand up comedian, ultimate Disc Jockey and Master of Ceremonies, the quintessential On Air Personality before On Air Principalities invaded the airwaves! John Chukwu was a phenomenon.
Because his last name had no appendages, he simply claimed the right to its English translation and called himself John God. He named one of his companies, Sand Pack. When I asked him why, he chuckled: I do every decent job I can. I sell fun, Refrigerators, air conditioners… I will pack sand if it will put bread on the table!
John Chukwu was many things but it is his struggle and victory over a demonic trait that seems so much part of our DNA that’s on my mind right now.
You see, in the old days Radio, not TV, was the real power house. Why else would the boys in the army barracks across the street jump their fence, seize the mics and announce “fellow countrymen”? The NBC, I mean the original, Nigeria Broadcasting Corporation – not the baby that was named after it – was motherland. Or fatherland if you will! Radio was it’s ‘heir’. TV was caviar, hidden somewhere at Bar Beach. Radio was it! It was National, nationwide, and transmitted information in nine Nigerian languages; and there was a Voice Of Nigeria! The swagger and perfume of its members settled the occupants of the graveyards that surrounded it and sometimes when an outsider would call at night on those crank-up analogue phones, it was not unusual for some prankster to respond: hello… Ikoyi cemetery!
Radio Nigeria, Ikoyi was fun city! And it was great guys like John Chukwu, Deejay Ben Jay, John Ndisika who were the spice! And then, there were those great broadcasters – Ishola Folorunsho, Martins Okoh, Eldred Fiberesima (Daddy-o), Churchill Ifode…
To stand out in that forest of Iroko trees, people like JayCee and John Ndisika were indeed a special breed, freelance artist who were as prominent as the biggest of them because of the amount of hard work they put in to be granted the volume of airtime they commanded.
JayCee was a bundle of talent and worked at the NBC for several years without becoming a permanent/full member of staff. Rookie that I was, it seemed such a hassle. It seemed so much more prestigious to be a member of staff and I wondered why he didn’t accept full employment since the establishment already let him be on air so regularly.
Well, the way the story is told, it wasn’t that John God didn’t want a full time employment – rumour had it that he had been applying but that evidence of his abundant talent did not quite account for some document that was being demanded. After a few years he stopped struggling and continued working freelance. He had also discovered a secret that many didn’t know and even as he sweated a smile never left his face.
But, to use one of his favourite quotes, “bad thing nor deh hide”. Some senior permanent Programmes staff whose pay cheques did not generate such broad smiles like his soon put their calculators to work and JayCee’s secret popped up! As a freelance artist, presenting all the programmes he was presenting, John earned much more than he could have expected as salary!
Well, the tin gods of the industry put their heads together and after a meeting of these eggheads and conspirators, a new regime was decreed. A mandatory limit was set as to how many programmes one freelance artiste could present weekly. It ensured that the peanuts called artist fees could never amount to much and it effectively closed that bother, and terminated the grins, smiles and/laughter of all freelance artistes.
The owl cried in the night. In the morning the baby died. Who killed the baby?
That’s when the idea of Sand Pack hit the indomitable spirit of the ‘never say die’, the guy called John Chukwu. And it was an idea that opened up all his 32 teeth!
Many people who curse Hitler or Abacha or Mugabe do so because power is not in their hands. Real power! From the lecturer who insists on sex for marks, and papa who has sole right to the biggest meat in the soup, to the maigadi who may lie or be induced to tell you the truth whether Oga is at home or not, there is a dictator or a green snake inside waiting to strike a perceived enemy or rival!
True word nor be cheek! How many we wan talk? Na who dem see oyel for hin maut na hin leak soup! So help we, God!