Friday, July 27, 2012
Saturday, July 21, 2012
Tuesday, July 17, 2012
50 cent and the chinua Achebe
What is the standard act to borrowing ideas, or titles from other people works for usage in whatever medium, if you ask me, this situation between Chinua Achebe and 50 cent over the use by the latter of the title “THINGS FALL APART” for his latest film, bears a lot that need be learnt by all of us in the art of creativity, in this part of the globe.
All works of creativity cannot just be lashed upon and used without respect whatsoever for the copyright owners, writing or seeking their approval and meeting all the necessary obligation therein agreed upon. Ours is a society where a lot of people just out rightly steal and appropriate other people work as their own. As we can see, out there people know what they are doing, as indicated by 50 cent attempt to procure the permission of Chinua Achebe before using it.
Achebe has however remain his principle self in refusing 50 cent the use of his title, and I must commend this spirit and attitude and lend it much to the rest of us. This is not to say that we should deny others the use of our ideas, or work, Achebe is damn too intelligent and people oriented to insinuate the above. It is not impossible that he is telling us that everything in life is not for sale. The collective heritage of a people, be it history, culture, etc in whatever form is not and cannot be made into a private property. That Chinua Achebe must go to the extent of denying himself a huge sum of $1million dollars to bring this education to us is instructive enough for us to learn. Do we need be reminded that Okonkwo sacrificed himself rather than suffer the humiliation of being conquered culturally and economically, where is this spirit of resistance against the desperate desire by a crop neo-colonized African ruling elites to return us all into second slavery.
Achebe is right to protect for all of us, the sacredness of the story in the text “THINGS FALL APART”. This is not oblivious of the fact that the title of the book is in itself directly lifted from the Irish poet W.B. Yeats. This one book that tells us how we as Africans have come to be where we are today. A book that has been most helpful in helping us as Blacks in Diaspora to appreciate and celebrate the level of organization, institutional uprightness in resolving crisis, a high sense of gender equality that would no doubt by now have been imp[roved upon by , if not for the violent overthrow by our way of life by the imperialist.
Again too for someone, who now lives in the US, there is the need to safeguard that title from being raped and integrated into the pop culture of gangster violence, which is a recurring theme both in Hollywood and in the sub-black movie industry in the US. This should not be seen as a pre-judgement given the fact one is yet to see this new film by 50 cent, to determine how fitting the title he sought for it would have been the best for it. Achebe is a father of the whole of the Art, and no father would turn down a younger one, if he approaches him the right way, discusses with him the intention, not just fling the money at him, people deserve to be respected. I think we should all be happy that Achebe is one of us.
I should also say that Nollyhood must learn a great deal from this example, a lot of script writers and film directors just impose titles on films without any care for the fact that they are infringing on the intellectual property of writers and others, in so many cases the films themselves are a direct replication of existing stories that already exist in more than one form, with a intolerable sense of arrogance that they are doing an original story. Adaptation is allowed, and must be acknowledged, one can only hope that this exchange between 50 cent and the Chinua Achebe, would enrich us all to a greater awareness of the sense in which we cannot appropriate other people work or ideas without seeking to procure the permission of their owners.
Monday, July 16, 2012
In Ajegunle, Hope Lies in Rhythm and Rhyme
In a Vast Nigerian Shantytown, Hope Lies in Rhythm and Rhyme
By Meghan Collins Sullivan
washingtonpost.com staff writer
Friday, April 6, 2007; A17
LAGOS, Nigeria -- In one of the largest slums in Africa, Papa English preaches hope through the rhythms of his music.
Papa English lives and thrives in Ajegunle, where barefoot children play among waist-high heaps of garbage and many of its more than 2 million residents spend hot, humid days trying to sell whatever they can to make a living.
"Somehow, we survive together, we try to keep together," he said, a handful of youngsters trailing him as he walked toward a friend's house. "Street life has made me what I am today. Street education has been so great."
| Papa English, left, with fellow musician Dagga Tolar, right, and an unidentified friend, live in Ajegunle, part of Lagos. |
| Photo Credit: Meghan Collins Sullivan For The Washington Post |
Papa English and a handful of others who live in Ajegunle, a section of Lagos, are turning the daily struggles of their hard lives into art -- music, poetry and novels. Some, like musicians Daddy Showkey and Daddy Fresh, have made it big, gaining name recognition across Africa.
But for most, including Papa English, fame has not yet extended beyond the dirt roads and metal shacks of a place they affectionately call AJ City.
The music rising from the slum is mostly Afrobeat -- jazz and funk blended with traditional Yoruba sounds in a style made famous by the late Fela Kuti in the 1960s and '70s. The Ajegunle musicians have re-branded reggae by the likes of Bob Marley and Peter Tosh, and mixed it with a localized version of hip-hop into what is popularly called "AJ music.""Most of our songs, we sing what we see," Papa English said. "Sometimes the kids sing songs, and it inspires me."
In a song titled "Fermine," the Xion Defenders, a group that includes Papa English and a fellow musician who goes by the stage name Toxic Waste, call on Nigerians to return to their traditional farming roots. Agriculture was vital to Nigeria's economy until oil was discovered there in the 1950s.
Wake up from your sleeping and slumbering
What about the dreams that we have lost
No food for the children feeding
No shelter for the common man living
Then, it was one big happy family.
For several decades, Ajegunle has drawn a flow of newcomers from across Nigeria and neighboring countries as more and more people look for work in Lagos, Nigeria's biggest city, with a population of more than 8.5 million. According to the United Nations, Lagos will become the third-largest city in the world, behind Tokyo and Mumbai, by 2015.
Papa English, whose given name is Agirishi Nwamkwa, said his family moved to Ajegunle sometime in the 1970s, when he was a child. His father wanted to find work as a building contractor and give his family a chance at a better life. But he died in a construction accident in 1979, and a young Nwamkwa suddenly found himself navigating the streets hawking plantains and bread to make money for his mother and two sisters.
As a young man, Nwamkwa learned to make hats, sandals and belts. Today he sells his handicrafts to support his wife and five children, including infant twins.
But his passion is for music, he said, and he plays at churches and clubs whenever he has the opportunity, usually once a month. He also plays for the neighborhood children, hoping they might see that there are options available, even in AJ City.
On a recent day, the streets were packed as Papa English strolled past the rusty tin roofs and thin boards that form homes and shops. A couple sat in the shade near their open-air vegetable stand, waiting for customers. Bright red tomatoes and peppers glistened in the sun against the dull gray around them. A group of men played chess at a table nearby. Papa English said that, like them, he had no pressing need to "be somewhere."
More and more young people in Ajegunle are turning to music to eke out a living, said Dagga Tolar, a close friend of Papa English's. They "connect the fact that music like Fela highlighted is a weapon, and this can appropriately be used positively in the struggle to create a better society for all. The potential for growth for the music is enormous," he said.
Tolar, tall and thin with a colorful floppy hat atop a head full of dreadlocks, recently produced an album titled "Social Revolution," on which he is lead vocalist. He has published four books of poetry in the past 10 years, the latest called "Darkwaters Drunkard," along with several other literary works.
It has taken Tolar two to three years to scrape together enough money to get each project into print. Still, his books have been virtually inaccessible to a larger audience, as most of his sales and marketing have occurred locally.
To gain greater exposure, Tolar has participated in public readings and, like Papa English and other local musicians, has worked as a disc jockey in dance halls in and around Ajegunle.
Tolar was born in the slum, in a home on Sidi Street that was left to him when his father died. He has helped other struggling artists by giving them a place to stay in the one-room house.
"I am committed for life to the ghetto, but I am not a romantic," Tolar said.
Papa English said that in addition to promoting his music beyond Lagos, he intends someday to make a documentary about Ajegunle. He said he wants to show life in the slum through the perspective of a resident.
"I am trying to struggle out, but I have a passion for this place," he said. "I dream that one day the whole world will know me."
http://www.nigeriavillagesquare.com/newsflash/in-ajegunle-hope-lies-in-rhythm-and-rhyme.html
Why I led the bloody protest in Ajegunle –A.J. Daggar Tolar BY PUNCH NEWSPAPER
A.J Dagga Tolar, poet, social activist, and secretary of the Labour and Civil Societies Coalition in Lagos State, as well as the Coordinator of the Ajegunle People‘s Movement, the group that led the recent violent protest against Police brutality and extra-judicial arrests in the area, recounts what happened on Saturday, April 3, 2010. He speaks with CHUX OHAI.
Your name doesn‘t sound Nigerian. Are you Nigerian?
The thing is to ask what a name is. A name is an identifying mark. It only serves to distinguish one individual from another individual. The fact that my name serves this purpose is enough to identify who I am. I was born in Ajegunle. So my being a part and parcel of this geographical entity known as Nigeria cannot be denied by those who know me closely. It is evident in my actions, past and present, what I write, and those things that have given birth to ideas in this country. They are a reflection of my identity. If we must build a new society for ourselves, the attempt to divide ourselves into groups and classes, when in fact we are one people, is unnecessary. Last week in Ajegunle, when we decided to protest the injustice in the area, we didn‘t have to ask the people whether they were Nigerians or what states they came from before they identified with the cause. There is something that brings all of us together. It is this unity that our rulers have not been able to exploit to create a better society for everybody in this country.
Is it true that you led the recent protest against police brutality in Ajegunle?
Yes, it is true. We could not but at that moment identify with the youths and the people of that community. We have also acted in the past on the same issues in this community. Considering the fact that in 2002 we protested the actions of the police, it would have been treacherous on our part not to play the same role last week.
You just mentioned that as far back as 2002, there have been cases of police brutality in Ajegunle.
I should say that it has become a habit among the police in Ajegunle to oppress and brutalize the inhabitants. Ajegunle has become a permanent feasting pot for the rank and file of the police. What Fela Anikulapo-Kuti used to say about police stations serving as banks with the DPOs as the bank managers is very true about the police in Ajegunle. Imagine a situation where illegal raids are carried out by police men and women in the area and innocent people forced into buses commandeered by them. These people are taken away, arrested for no offences, and made to part with their hard earned money. It is that bad. In 2009, the Area B commander, Kenneth Ebirison, sent his men to pick me. They brought me to his office and we had a meeting, during which he called for our cooperation towards ensuring peaceful co-existence in the community. Of course, we reached an understanding and thereafter, on a number of occasions we had to intervene whenever any member of the community was arrested by his men. But the question is, how many people in Ajegunle would have to wait for a Daggar Tolar to secure their release from wrongful detention by the police? So when the raid that resulted in the death of Charles Okafor took place, the people saw their opportunity to move against police brutality and to ensure that the police authorities put an end to it. What we did was to use our organization as a platform to bring this to the knowledge of the authorities and the general public on April 2, 2010.
What did you discuss with the police area commander in Ajegunle when you had the meeting with him in 2009?
He said that I had been invited on the basis of a rumour that some people were planning to attack the police station. It wasn‘t the first time that they made such a claim. What we did was call a meeting in the community to discuss the issue. We didn‘t do more than that. We circulated leaflets inviting members of the community in the various neighbourhoods. There was a time when the police thought that the threat was coming from a few people who had nothing to do other than to foment trouble. Meetings were held on various platforms within the community to discuss this issue. The response was such that proved how enthusiastic the people were about coming together to tackle a common problem. Initially we were assured of a change in the situation in Ajegunle after meeting with the police. A new Divisional Police Officer arrived and we had another meeting with him. Later it was resolved that the community would be having a joint monthly meeting with the police in Ajegunle that would serve as a forum to address issues that were of mutual importance. But it soon became clear while this was going on, it was business, as usual, underground.
You mean that the police did not keep their own end of the deal?
They did not keep their own end of the deal. It is clear that the incident of April 1 would not have taken place, if they did. At this point, it is important to state clearly that the police treats us very badly because we live in Ajegunle. The kind of things that they do to us, they can‘t do to other Nigerians that live in places like Ikoyi or Victoria Island. They take it for granted that we are not educated and so we cannot defend ourselves or fight for our rights. And then, because many youths who live in Ajegune are unemployed and a lot of working class people in the community are unemployed and helpless. When such people get into trouble with the police, they do everything possible to make sure that they break in free from the clutches of the law enforcement officers. And this is where money begins to exchange hands.
Tell us exactly how the police behave to the people of Ajegunle
On the days that football matches are shown in the viewing centres, there is always a large turn-out of youths in such places. That is when armed police men decide to carry out raids in the community. They would swoop on the viewing centres and forcibly arrest anybody in sight. The police would not set them free until they had paid in cash. Secondly, they (the police)are fond of mounting illegal checkpoints in the community and in the process of extorting more money from the people through these checkpoints, they gave room to the activities of unscrupulous characters who parade themselves as policemen, but they are, in fact, official informers to the police and partakers in the plot to exploit the people to death. Imagine a man sending out his young son on an errand only to be told few minutes later that the boy had been arrested by the raiding police gangs. This is the kind of thing that they do to us.
Did the police at any time explain why they carried out raids in the area?
They gave one excuse, which is the traditional excuse. They said that raiding was one effective method of curbing crime in the community. They vowed to continue to carry out such raids on ‘black spots‘ as long as it would enable them to keep criminals from operating in the community. But, you know, the so-called ‘black spots‘ only live in the imagination of the police. What they call ‘black spots‘ are duly registered and legitimate television viewing centres. Everybody has a fundamental right to move freely, even if he has to walk the entire lenght and breadth of the country. As long as they are not flouting any related rule, it is their legitimate right to go anywhere in this country. But the police does not seem to realize this a d this is what created tension.
So what you are saying is that no criminal offence took place in Ajegunle that would have warranted such raids by the police?
The kind of raids that we have experienced in Ajegunle these past years, could make anyone to conclude that all crimes recorded in Lagos State must have be committed by the residents of Ajegunle. For crying out loud, Ajegunle is like any other community in Nigeria and we face the same challenges as the people in other parts of the country.
But you know that Ajegunle is commonly referred to as the Jungle City and the seat of crime in Lagos State. Are you saying now that the status quo has since been reversed and therefore, the police have no moral justification for their actions in the community?
Ajegunle is what other Nigerians think it is as a result of the failure of the ruling class in Nigeria to manage the resources of the nation efficiently. The level of unemployment that you find in places like Ajegunle is not any different from any other community of its kind and size. But, like you rightly suggested, things are no longer what they used to be in the community. I tell you, the majority of the people go about their normal business legitimately, even when they practically have very little or nothing to survive on. They do not indulge any crime whatsoever. If the police say that they are raiding us because of criminal activities in the area, they are lying. They have resorted to carrying out raids because they want to augment their incomes and not necessarily because the people of Ajegunle are committing crimes.
How long have you lived in Ajegunle?
I was born there, like I have said before. I spent the first eight years of my life there. Subsequently I lived in Ojo Military Cantonment for five years before returning to Ajegunle in 1979. I lived there up until late in 2009.
Are you currently resident there?
I have a dual residence. Now I live in both Ajegunle and in Okota.
Which means that you are not hundred per cent aware of what goes on in Ajegunle everyday?
To begin with, I work in Ajegunle, which means that every day or every other day, I am in Ajegunle. Secondly, I don‘t operate as an individual. I operate as part of an organization that is on the ground and holds meetings from time to time to assess the situation in the area.
Was there any incident that remotely provoked the police to carry out the raid that led to the death of Charles Okafor?
No. There was none to justify the nightly raids by the police in a bus and the wrongful arrest of innocent men and women, even under-aged children in the community.
So these raids were a build-up to what happened on April 1?
Exactly. It explained why there was overwhelming response on April 3 to the call to protest the way we were treated by the police. Nearly everybody in the community had fallen victim to the raiding gangs or had a friend or relative that had fallen victim and made to part with money at one point or the other.
Where were you on that day?
On Friday I had a meeting in Egbeda. I was editing a new collection of poetry. At a point I was informed about the situation in Ajegunle. We felt that we had to do something quickly to douse the tension in the air around the community before the situation got out of hand. We had to call a general meeting, during which a list of demands by the people was drawn up. Also we decided that the time was ripe for a formal protest. Part of the resolution was that the police must issue a public statement informing all residents of the community that the raids must come to an end. Other issues were mentioned at the meeting. Later, we visited the family of late Charles Okafor and condoled with them.
What happened afterwards?
The protest kicked off on the next day, which was a Saturday. There was so much anger that the aggrieved saw the protest as a means of expressing their feelings. We had two objectives, which was to submit a petition each at the police station and at the office of the chairman of the local government council. At the same time, we had decided to deliver a coffin representing the lives of those killed by the police at the station. As we moved on, through the Boundary area, more people joined the protest. Finally by the time we got to the police station, an armoured car had been positioned and additional reinforcements called in from other police stations within Area B Command. The Area B commander himself was present. At some point the large crowd of protesters felt that the presence of the police was too intimidating. They became restive and before we knew it, despite our attempts to calm them, the protest broke down. Stones began to fly in the air both to and from the police. Temporarily we managed to calm down the crowd and proceeded to present our petition to Mr. Ebirison. Then some of his men began to order the crowd to go away. This angered the mass of protesters and subsequently defeated the original motive for the protest, which was to force the police to publicly announce that there would be no more raids in the community.
Didn‘t the police show remorse for their actions?
That was the idea in making them apologize to the people and to promise never to raid the community again. They didn‘t show remorse. Later they insisted that they learnt that hoodlums were planning to burn down the station.
So what happened?
At a point, they opened fire with live bullets on the protesters.
Who gave the order to shoot?
Of course, the order could not have come from the State Police Commissioner who was not on ground on that day. Obviously it must have come from the man who was in charge at the scene of the protest. As a result, Tunde Olotunbi and Kadiri were killed and several others wounded. For several hours afterwards, the police started hunting down people in the streets. They arrested 26 people and went on to announce that they were the youths who were caught with arms and petrol and car tyres on the day of the protest.
Is it true that some people carried weapons on the day of the protest?
If they did, you can be sure that they would have been forced to engage the police in a shootout on that day.
So why were you arrested by the police?
I must say that the police, acting true to type, wanted to hang the blame on me. They had announced that we were hoodlums and made some arrangement to prove it. But the protest had taken them unawares. They had failed to reckon with the fact that Ajegunle was capable of producing individuals like me that were literate and who had a long history of involvement in various rallies and protests. They wanted to put the blame on my colleagues and I as a warning to others to desist from taking the kind of action that we took. I was deceived into attending a meeting in the office of the Ajeromi local government council chairman. I was arrested and taken to Area B Command. To my surprise, as soon as we were ushered in, the Area Commander, Kenneth Ebirison stood up in anger and said I was the one who led the people to hurl stones at the police. He said that if he had had his way on that day, he would have shot me himself. Of course, that outburst told me that he had spoken the intentions of the police, which was to make me a scape-goat for what happened. Much later, seeing that he could not keep me in detention against the tide of numerous calls and demands for my release, he had to order his men to set me free.
What is the situation in Ajegunle now?
The situation is gradually returning to normal. But I am not taking the area commander‘s words lightly. I know he has indirectly revealed what the police intends to do with me. So I don‘t want to see his threat as a blind one.
http://archive.punchng.com/Articl.aspx?theartic=Art201004170554185
THIS COUNTRY IS NOT A POEM
This country is a poem
Is only for the heart to lie
To make Art no die
This country, no be place
For human faces
To live to love this country
Na just like space
For all of us to dey die
My heart no go greee mek Art dey lie
This country is not a poem
The way they make poetry
To make this country
Sound good to the ear
But here who cares
The death of a dirty lie on the lips
Before the words dried out to die
This country
Who cares
For the poetry of our existence
The way they care for poetry
Leaving us every moment with metaphors
To feel not at all the failing of poetry
This country
Dare you to ask
"Have you seen dead bodies before?"
Answer with another ask
"Are there not dead bodies everywhere?"
Stuff enough to make more poems
Who cares to hear
Lagos is a poem, not a place
Ajegunle is a poem, not a place
Cannot sit to hear this poem
SUNG in Yoruba:
Kile ni wa gbo
Kile ni wa wo
Ara mo ri ri
Kilo oju ori leko ri
Kile ni wa gbo
Kile ni wa wo
...
For a people mugged down in mud
Every breath a struggle to keep
The breath like that of animals
Humans lost all life...like Hannibal
Desecrate the place unfit for Villa and Zapata
Hang the statue in the square
This is the sad end of Saddam's story
Still alive savouring life on
Like Bush the liar unable to Blair
The people not to see their land
Their oil still flowing into wrong pockets
Guns boomed, they die to be able to kill
My heart is pained say no be dem
But the innocent young ones of mothers
Like our own mothers
Cut down to weep dry tears
For lost sons
This is the common end of hope
Stringed on the guns of another
From across the borderline
Who also like them heed only onto profit
From our dying
If then we free to fight
This country into a poem
Art first must be rid of lies
For only then can hearts crave to die
For the people
For a new poem
For a new country
Not this stiff old song of profit
Making this country is not a poem
This country is a poem
Is only for the heart to lie
To make Art no die
This country, no be place
For human faces
To live to love This country
Na just like space
For all of us to dey die
My heart no go greee make Art dey lie
This country is not a poem
Is only for the heart to lie
To make Art no die
This country, no be place
For human faces
To live to love this country
Na just like space
For all of us to dey die
My heart no go greee mek Art dey lie
This country is not a poem
The way they make poetry
To make this country
Sound good to the ear
But here who cares
The death of a dirty lie on the lips
Before the words dried out to die
This country
Who cares
For the poetry of our existence
The way they care for poetry
Leaving us every moment with metaphors
To feel not at all the failing of poetry
This country
Dare you to ask
"Have you seen dead bodies before?"
Answer with another ask
"Are there not dead bodies everywhere?"
Stuff enough to make more poems
Who cares to hear
Lagos is a poem, not a place
Ajegunle is a poem, not a place
Cannot sit to hear this poem
SUNG in Yoruba:
Kile ni wa gbo
Kile ni wa wo
Ara mo ri ri
Kilo oju ori leko ri
Kile ni wa gbo
Kile ni wa wo
...
For a people mugged down in mud
Every breath a struggle to keep
The breath like that of animals
Humans lost all life...like Hannibal
Desecrate the place unfit for Villa and Zapata
Hang the statue in the square
This is the sad end of Saddam's story
Still alive savouring life on
Like Bush the liar unable to Blair
The people not to see their land
Their oil still flowing into wrong pockets
Guns boomed, they die to be able to kill
My heart is pained say no be dem
But the innocent young ones of mothers
Like our own mothers
Cut down to weep dry tears
For lost sons
This is the common end of hope
Stringed on the guns of another
From across the borderline
Who also like them heed only onto profit
From our dying
If then we free to fight
This country into a poem
Art first must be rid of lies
For only then can hearts crave to die
For the people
For a new poem
For a new country
Not this stiff old song of profit
Making this country is not a poem
Is only for the heart to lie
To make Art no die
This country, no be place
For human faces
To live to love This country
Na just like space
For all of us to dey die
My heart no go greee make Art dey lie
This country is not a poem
Out of a Nigerian Slum, a Poet Is Born by Ofeibea Quist-Arcton
June 26, 2007
Ajegunle, a sprawling slum of about 5 million residents on the outskirts of Lagos, Nigeria's noisy and chaotic commercial capital, has a notorious reputation. Its ominous nickname is "The Jungle." Yet it represents a microcosm of Africa's most populous nation, juggling Nigeria's diverse religions and ethnic and regional groups.
It also has some unexpected gems, including Aj Dagga Tolar, a Rastafarian poet and reggae musician who was born in Ajegunle, also called "The Jungle."
The slum greets visitors with a medley of odors — the smell of heaps of garbage and gutters, open sewage channels running between the tightly packed structures — and a symphony of sounds. Traditional juju music blares from a tinny loudspeaker, precariously perched in one of the tiny shops, while on the other side of the narrow, dusty dirt street, the voice of a muezzin floats out of a mosque. Also audible are the generators, ubiquitous in Nigeria, where endemic corruption has eaten into the nation's infrastructure and resulted in frequent power outages.
"It's one of the most popular slums, not just on the African continent, but the entire part of the world. It is in this part of the country that you meet the poor of the poorest, and we try to survive day in and day out," Dagga Tolar says.
It would be hard to miss Dagga Tolar in a crowd. Approaching 40, the poet, singer and activist is lanky, with distinctive, giant dreadlocks crowning his head, eyes eager and searching and a big, welcoming, gap-toothed smile. He has the look of a survivor.
He lives in a tiny shack with brightly painted blue walls. On the floor is a bare mattress. Everywhere you look, the room is crammed with CDs and books — from classics to poetry to political essays on poverty and survival. On one side is a poster of the late American rapper, Tupac Shakur.
Dagga Tolar says he feels fortunate to have a roof over his head — and it's one that he readily shares.
"If you had come here early in the morning, you would meet with about four or five persons who stay around, who of course don't have another alternative," he says.
"Ajegunle is called 'The Jungle' because it's extremely difficult to survive in this neighborhood. And people survive day to day on nothing, on practically nothing," he says. "Ajegunle has become a metaphor for the entirety of the Nigerian nation. Ajegunle is no longer special; it's a portrayal of what the whole country is: one big jungle city. And it portrays the picture of the ... angriest sections of the working population residing in this part of the country."
The people of Ajegunle are angry about poverty — no electricity, no water, no prospects, no future and, for many, no hope. And this is in Nigeria, the giant of West Africa, the continent's top petroleum exporter and a major crude-oil supplier to the United States. But in Nigeria, corruption is rife, and the rich are very rich, while the poor are very poor.
Dagga Tolar writes poetry and sings about such inequalities.
"Killing, you are killing our dreams, in every way and every day," he sings. He continues in spoken word: "And every time we find a way, they come around against us, because they don't want to pay, for the suffering and fighting every day that the people have to face in every way. And when we stand, the fire burn we body, for we can no longer hear the sound of melody. We are one people."
Dagga Tolar says he tries to escape the tough reality of slum life in Nigeria by being creative.
"My poetry and music is the highest expression of beauty," he says.
http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=10826005
