Have you ever experienced that feeling of being awake but you cannot move? You try to shout, and no word comes out. You feel as if something is pressing you down, but you are aware of your surroundings. I had that kind of experience over the weekend. Suddenly, I felt very light and I found myself floating out of my body. A voice said to me. ‘Do not be afraid.’ I turned round and there was this angelic looking lady with a beatific smile, looking down on me. We were interrupted by a blast from a trumpet. We both turned towards the noise and saw this Blackman standing at akimbo with a broom beside him. I moved closer because the man looked familiar. I stopped, his face appeared bright, full and healthy. I asked him. Aren’t you Fela Anikulapo Kuti? He answered. ‘Yeah, but don’t call me Anikulapo. I am back to Ransome again.’ I was enthralled. I was full of questions which I threw at him and he answered most of them. I cannot recall all the conversation and the order it took place. Questions like, what are you doing here? What is this place called? Why are wearing a white gown? How come you are blowing the trumpet and not the saxophone? Have you seen other Nigerians around? What do you think is going to happen to Nigeria? Lots of questions. He sent messages to his family and band men, but I can’t disclose those here. This is what I could recollect when I woke up.

Fela, looked around furtively and placed the trumpet against the wall, it just hung there though I could see no hook. He picked up the broom and started sweeping in circles. The lady angel reappeared and looked at us for a long time, then floated away. Fela shook his head and sighed. He began. ‘You see, my brother, after I come quench in Nigeria, my spirit floated about around the shrine for sometime, until my dad intervened and I was brought up before Angel Gabriel. Men, he was about to send me straight to hell but when it was whispered to him that I could serve as one of the trumpeters in heaven, he relented. They then brought out a trumpet for me to blow, but my brother, you know me, I begin yab. I asked for a saxophone. This made Angel Gabriel furious, and he commanded that for my sins, I have to blow the trumpet and sweep the floor in purgatory until I see the light’. ‘The other day I saw Abacha.’ Who? I interrupted. ‘Yeah, Abacha, he is now a mai guard. Somebody was sent back to be born in the Niger Delta to complete his atonement and a vacancy arose for a mai guard, since Abacha had security experience he was chosen.’ I must have looked perturbed, for he continued. ‘You think he is lucky? Men, that is punishment.’ ‘He gets to stand sentry duty for ever. He watches all those heavenly beauties take their bath and cannot do anything about it. He is now attending Sunday school where he still has to stand, but if he works at it, he might be forgiven.’ I heaved a sigh of relief, but he could sense I was still uncomfortable, so he continued. ‘This is not Nigeria, men. The lord is a forgiving God.’

He appeared so calm and at peace with himself, so I accused him of forgetting about us in Nigeria to which he replied. ‘To show you that I am aware of what is happening in Nigeria, remember that lawyer the two third of nineteen one?’ I nodded. ‘The other day he was quoting the 1999 constitution. Section 5 [3] provides: "The executive powers vested in a State under subsection [2] (c) of this section shall be so exercised as not to: endanger the continuance of a federal government in Nigeria. Ehm, ehm…. Nigeria is a unitary state., therefore any coup plotter knocking off the present timocratic experiment would be trying to preserve the constitution. Abi, no be so?’ He turned at me, gleefully. I scratched my head and inched forward, I was scared to disturb him but couldn’t help asking, what is timocracy? He looked at me with sorrow in his eyes and then started to sweep again as if he had not heard my question. I then asked him, what is going to happen to Nigeria? don’t you think it should be restructured? He paused, and looked up at me. His hand went to his lips as if he was holding a joint, then he caught himself and looked down. He cleared his throat and continued. ‘Men, that Nigeria., you guys speak from both sides of the mouth. Like, like.. if the east is allowed to secede the west would follow. Does this mean that the east should go ahead and secede because the west would follow or the east should not be allowed to secede because the west would follow’? He seemed to get upset but continued, ‘Look at that man from Kwara, saying’ "Nigeria must be restructured. You cannot have a sovereign national conference but you can have a constitutional conference, but in this conference, confederation and separation are taboo subjects". ‘Now, what if the primary reason a group wants to go to the conference is because they want to leave Nigeria? Why can’t they go to the conference, table their grievances and state why they want to leave and what will make them stay. Why would anybody in their right mind want to leave a lucrative association’?, he queried. I tried to reason with him. Fela, you see, you don’t understand, the country will divide and a lot of people died to keep the country one. He retorted. ‘A lot of people are still dying to keep the country one’. I left that one alone.

Omo iya, what do you think of the north and this Shari’ah thing? I inquired. He chuckled. ‘Men , that Senator’. I asked him. Which one? He said. ‘The one that took part in the senate probe’. He continued. ‘What kind talk be that’? ‘Did you read what he said?’ Fela asked me. I replied in the negative. He looked at me and rolled his eyes and started. ‘…..He said’, "have you ever wondered what would have happened if the president was from the south and the Inspector General of Police from the north? Why is all the unrest going on only in the south". He stopped, and looked at me accusingly. ‘What is he insinuating? Men, you guys are in deep shit’. He started humming a tune that sounded familiar. I think it must have been "Suffering and Smiling". He took a step towards the trumpet and then seemed to change his mind. He began. ‘You see my brother when you die, they don’t differentiate between Christian and Moslems all of us would come to judgment on our merit and, and ….. Look at me, who would have thought that I could end up in purgatory and not hell’? ‘You see, man no man dey for heaven’. ‘Leave this Shari’ah matter.. o jare. When time comes, the constitution will be amended to take care of everybody’. I jumped in. How? He took a long look at me and then bent down to his sweeping. I knew I was about to wake up but I couldn’t help teasing him. Agbami Eda, with all these beautiful things floating around in purgatory, you must be enjoying o! He lifted up his gown and I couldn’t see anything. Then he quipped. ‘Men, e be as e get’.

I suddenly felt a tremble passing through my body and something that sounded like a call to prayer in the background. His movements seem to take on a sense of urgency and it seemed as if we were drifting apart. He started talking forcefully. ‘Yeye dey smell for Nigeria, men. Tell Baba Aremu that he has to start wearing a suit and tie’. Why? I questioned. He answered. ‘I overhead St. Peter wondering out loud the other day, what he is hiding in that Agbada’? I must have sighed because he added. ‘You don’t believe me’?, and continued without waiting for an answer. ‘Tell him that though he burnt down my republic, I forgive him. That, for Nigeria to survive, he must conduct another FESTAC, with durbar in the north and masquerades in the south, and there should be a grand finale at the new Abuja stadium where all the participants would gather and re affirm their faith in one Nigeria’. With that, I woke up and sat up in bed thinking…….. ……..FESTAC!, FESTAC!, FESTAC!.

Orok Edem