By Tope Adeboboye
Celebrated Juju music superstar turned cleric, Rev Ebenezer Obey-Fabiyi clocked 80 on Sunday April 3. The man, renowned for his philosophical lyrics and velvety tunes, was serenaded into the world of octogenarians by his family, friends, church members, associates, fans and protégés at a grand event attended by Vice President Yemi Osinbajo and many other prominent Nigerians. The event held at his church, Decross International, Lagos.
Years ago, this newspaper encountered Rev Obey-Fabiyi at the Crowne Plaza Hotel, St Paul, Minnesota, United States. The reporter’s engagement with the cleric, first published in Daily Sun of Monday, November 12 2007, is reproduced below.
A lovely Saturday afternoon. The sun radiates an unusual warmth in downtown St Paul, capital city of the State of Minnesota in the United States this beautiful day in October. As you exit from the Interstate 94 Highway to connect St Paul, an aesthetic spectacle of imposing structures welcomes you to Kellogg Street. On both sides of the road, all you see are tall buildings standing close to one another, almost reaching up to touch the heavens. A few men and women walk leisurely down the road, apparently savouring the refreshing bliss of the sun. Down that street, away from the intimidating bridge leading to Wabasha Street, stands the Crowne Plaza Hotel, an imposing edifice enveloped by other strikingly tall towers. Under the bridge, the Minnesota River softly flows, even as a few canoes navigate the waters in the near distance.
Waiting beside the hotel with a cell phone clutched tightly to his left ear, his sportsman’s yellow T-shirt, blue denim trousers and black baseball hat glowing in the sun, is veteran broadcaster and founding General Manager of Nigeria’s first independent radio, Ray power F.M., Mr. Olusesan Ekisola. As he sees you, Ekisola promptly disengages the person on the other line and hangs up. “Look at this man. I’ve been waiting here all day,” he frowns at you, feigning anger. He then seizes your right hand and playfully drags you down an escalator to the huge conference room where the man you’ve driven down to interview is sitting.
From his seat, Evangelist Ebenezer Obey-Fabiyi stretches out his right hand, which you respectfully grab. He greets you warmly, offering you the chair next to his. Chief Commander Obey, the acclaimed Juju musician, now God’s minister, is in town as special guest of the Redeemed Christian Church of God, Minneapolis. The flamboyant church, situated on Monroe Street in North-East Minneapolis and headed by the suave Pastor Sola Olowokere, is celebrating its 7th anniversary in a typically colourful fashion. At the event, Obey is billed to preach and also minister in songs. The church, regarded by many as the loudest Nigerian Christian congregation in this part of America, is also raising funds to build a new auditorium. And later tonight, inside this conference hall, a special 100-dollar-a-plate dinner will be held to raise funds for the project.
Because of Obey’s tight schedule during his one-week stay in America, getting to speak with the retired Miliki exponent wouldn’t come easy. But, Ekisola, who has promised to “do my best” to facilitate a meeting between the reporter and the clergyman, had finally called earlier in the morning, saying that the clergyman had consented to a quick interview, to be conducted in between his rehearsals at the Crowne Plaza in Saint Paul. The reporter then promptly cancelled previous engagements and rushed down to St Paul.
So here you are in downtown St Paul this beautiful day in the fall, face to face with the soft-spoken Juju living legend. He wears an amiable mien, looking calm in his red-and-black buba and sokoto, even as a bulb from the ceiling casts a ray on his black, well-groomed hair. A gold watch sits quietly on his left wrist. As you drop your recorder, notebook and the large cup of Mountain Dew on the table, your eyes strike a big black Bible already sitting on the table, besides which stands an opened can of honey-roasted peanuts. From the can, the man of God, at intervals, slips a couple of nuts into his mouth. Inside this hall is a hurricane of activities. From the stage comes the regular drone of the piano, as Obey’s session men prepare for tonight’s performance. And all around you are several busy men and women, arranging chairs, setting cutleries on tables, fixing window blinds and the like, as members of the hotel staff organise the place for The Redeemed Church’s event of the evening.
The Miliki days
In his days as a singer, the Chief Commander, as he was known by his fans, commanded colossal attention on the Nigeria’s musical landscape. With a soft, velvety voice that would promptly calm down your nerves, accompanied by a rich blend of guitar, piano and the scintillating sound of assorted percussion, Obey’s highly didactic and philosophical songs were a regular feature in many homes. For many decades, the man toured the world with his Miliki sound, bringing joy to the faces of many. And then, one day, Chief Commander announced to the world that he had been commanded by a higher Force to jettison his secular songs and embrace a new career in God’s ministry. Soon after, the man got ordained and started his own church. A lot of his fans, who initially thought he was ending his Juju music career in order to commence a full vocation in gospel music, were astounded. But the man trudged on. Today, his ministry is one of the fastest growing in Lagos.
For a man who had dominated the stage for so long, transiting from that platform to the pulpit couldn’t have been as easy as sliding a hot knife through butter. Or was it? “The transition was OK,” he tells you without hesitation. “You see, for anyone following the plan of God for his life, such a transition would be smooth. That was the reason I never found it hard switching from the stage to the pulpit.”
The music legend says his interest in singing started right from his toddling years. His plan, in those days, was to take music as a hobby while he pursued his other inclinations in life. Did he know he was going to become a celebrity?
“Let me put it this way,” he begins, as he shifts his frame to recline on his seat. “I knew I was going to sing. I knew I was going to become a star. What I didn’t know was that music would become a full time job.” Was there a prophecy along the line that he would grow to become a popular melody maker? His response is not the usual yes or no.
“I grew up following my mother to the church,” he explains. “I was told that once at the church, I would rush over to where the musical instruments were, and I would be playing with them. One day at the church, I was messing with the instruments and my mum was trying to take me away from there. Then, the man of God called her and asked her to bring me. I was told he carried me and said that I was going to become a musician. Maybe he just looked at what was happening at that particular moment to make that statement, maybe it was a real prophecy, I can’t say.”
As the young Ebenezer grew in age, so grew his love for music. He became a chorister in his church. And in his elementary school days at the Methodist School, Idogo in Yewa area of Ogun State, he soon became the school bandleader. He however got minimal encouragement from his mum who could not disguise her unease with her little son’s musical bent. She was particularly apprehensive of a musical career for her son because in those days, artistes were looked down upon as beggars and ne’er-do-wells. “Musicians were seen as very irresponsible people, drinking, smoking and womanizing,” he explains. But he pledged to his mum that he would never hook up with the bad gang. And she grudgingly allowed him to pursue his heart’s desires. He joined a group called the Ifelodun Mambo Orchestra where, according to him, his innate talents were discovered. “I was the youngest in the group, but I was the star,” he recalls. “At that time, anytime I didn’t go with the group for an outing, they always came back to confess that it was as if there was no show. At that time, we were not too particular about money. All we cared about was making people happy.” It was at this period also that Obey started developing a strong passion for the late Adeolu Akinsanya’s music.
My love for Adeolu Akinsanya
At the time Obey commenced his musical career, the reigning genre was the highlife. Why then did he opt for Juju music? “What we had at that time were the highlife, Juju and mambo orchestra. That was the music of Adeolu Akinsanya.”
Mambo Orchestra? You’d always thought Adeolu Akinsanya sang highlife. “That was the second leg of his music,” Obey corrects you, smiling. “We had the highlife, we had the mambo orchestra, we had the kokoma and we had the Juju. But at that time, I was much in love with Adeolu Akinsanya’s music. The way he composed his songs was simply incredible. Have you heard the song, Opa ebiti to wolo laguda?
“That was one song that arrested me. The way he composed that song was something else. I fell in love with Adeolu Akinsanya’s songs. Those were the days of the gramophone, and people did not play those records all the time. But whenever I heard the music of Adeolu Akinsanya, I found myself drawn to the music. I knew virtually all his songs by heart. As soon as I heard his song once, that was it. I later got very close to Adeolu Akinsanya. So I started singing like him. That continued until I started my first band between 1954 and 1955.
Me and Fatai Rolling Dollar
In those days, names that made immense waves on the Juju music scene included those of J.O. Araba, Ayinde Bakare, Ojoge Daniel and others. At that time, Obey says, he had already mastered the art of playing several instruments, and was at an advanced stage in his guitar classes. Every time an artiste released an album, Obey would pick up his agidigbo, a popular local instrument, and attempt to recreate the sound in the record. At that time, J.O. Araba released an album, but as much as he tried to play the agidigbo in the record, Obey discovered he was unable to. “Throughout the whole day, I was still on it. Adeolu’s records would take me less than ten minutes. So I was curious to know the person who could have done that complex composition on the agidigbo.” He started asking questions, and soon realised that the artiste who played the agidigbo in that record was called Fatai Rolling Dollar. “I had never seen such an expert on the agidigbo,” confesses the man of God. He eventually met and struck a friendship with Rolling Dollar who had just formed his own band. He instantly became the old man’s assistant.
“I was running that band for him,” he recollects. “If you look at his albums of those days, my name was there. I even have a number of photographs that we took together. If we were in Nigeria, I would have shown them to you.”
I made money from Juju music
Eventually, Obey moved on, becoming a very successful celebrity and a revered force on the Nigerian entertainment scene. With his fan base extending far beyond the shores of Nigeria, the Juju singer travelled the world entertaining lovers of his music. “Music made me very, very successful,” he confesses, a faraway look on his face. “We made money. My band was always booked from January till December. On many occasions, I had to look at my schedule and fix dates for my fans who wanted my band to play at their parties. We would look at our schedule and fix a convenient date for them. That was to show how much influence one commanded.”
By the time fame and fortune came after the singer in great proportions, did his mum still retain her initial apathetic stance? “Ah, by that time, we had already crossed that stage,” he replies you with a smile. “All she wanted from me was the assurance that I would not become a bad boy, drinking and smoking my life away. As soon as she saw that I kept my part of the bargain, she had no problem with my career.”
Yes, I drank and womanised
All over the world, those in the performing arts are perpetually attracted to ladies the way bees get attracted to the flower’s nectar. And for many artistes to keep themselves at ease on stage, a cocktail of weed and wine is hardly absent from their daily menu. But Obey’s case is seen as different. Ever before swapping his cantor’s costume for a cleric’s cassock, Obey had been widely regarded as the odd one out among other musicians, one who never drank, smoked or womanised. How was he able to overcome those temptations in those restless days?
“My mother’s warning kept me on my toes,” he tells you, throwing a few peanuts into his mouth. “Every time I remembered my promise to her, I made sure I remained a very good guy. Her warning saved me from those temptations for a long while.”
For a long while? Would that indicate that he eventually succumbed? “Oh, I had my fair share of drinking and womanising,” he says bluntly. “But I never allowed them to overwhelm me, because I was able to heed the warning of my mother.” He pauses a little bit. “But frankly speaking, women and music go hand in hand. That is why it takes the grace of God to prevent a musician from womanising. Anyway, as I said, I had my own little share of drinking and womanising, but I never smoked.”
Juju days now over
Looking back now that he’s been ordained, does he sometimes feel nostalgic about those juju days? He ignores your question, his gaze fixed on the instrumentalists on stage. You repeat the question. And he turns around to face you. “You know what, I will answer that question. But right now, my mind is with those men on that stage. You will excuse me while I go find out what is happening with them. This is my main reason for coming here. These people (the church) paid my first class ticket from Lagos to Minnesota. They lodged me in a top hotel and are responsible for my well being here. So their business is top priority.” That’s quite understandable, you say, nodding in agreement. He then walks to the platform for a two-minute chat with the men on stage. The conversation over, the man of God walks back to his seat. But he remains on his feet. “I’ve been sitting for too long and I intend to stand for a while,” he explains. “What was that your question again?”
You repeat the question. His response comes in measured tones. “Let me put it this way,” he says contemplatively. “It has been a wonderful time playing music. As a person, whatever I am doing, I do it with all my heart. I played music to satisfy my audience to the best of my ability. So your question brings me to that passage in the Bible, Ecclesiastes 3; 14. It says whatsoever God doeth, it shall stand forever. So because it was God himself that brought me out of the music scene to where we are now, there shall be no regrets. So my Juju days are past. The past is past. Now my concentration is right here and I am enjoying every bit of it, just as I enjoyed every bit of the stage. You know God never makes a mistake. Even when we pass through storms, it is for our own good.”
The man of God however says he still monitors what goes on within the secular music scene. “The songs I recorded in those days are still selling even now. And don’t forget that my son, Tolu, plays Juju music, and I didn’t discourage him. So I still have some interest there.”
Juju singers are lazy
These days, it is glaring that Juju music is no longer what it used to be. With only a few Juju artistes still active in the music business, a lot of people are petrified that the genre might be on its way to extinction. You wonder if this man who bestrode the Juju music scene for many decades is concerned about the gradual death of the music genre he helped popularised.
“It is true that Juju music is no longer developing,” he admits. “And that does not make one too happy. Sometimes I wonder if one of the factors responsible for the stagnancy on the Juju scene is the fact that I quit. Because nowadays, even my friend and brother, King Sunny Ade releases albums only occasionally. There is no competition anymore. The young ones that are playing Juju today are very lazy. They can’t write good songs anymore. These days, it amazes me that Fuji artistes have taken over. They even play the guitar, piano and other musical instruments now. It is unfortunate.”
Ayinde Barrister and I
“Let me tell you what I have never told anybody,” continues the preacher. “I can tell you how Fuji music developed. When Sikiru Ayinde Barrister was in the army playing music, I sent for him. I sat him down and advised him to quit the army and face music squarely. He said he never thought of it. Anyway, he took my advice. And since then, he has never regretted it. That is what has drawn him to me. And as you know, Barrister’s success led to the development of Fuji music. Now, Fuji has an advantage. Unlike in Juju, you don’t need to be able to play any musical instruments before you start singing Fuji. You don’t even need any instruments. Once you have a few drums, that’s all. That is different from Juju. So, it’s easier for people to sing Fuji. But now, because of the laziness of these young Juju musicians, all the guitars and the piano that Juju artistes used to play have been taken over by Fuji musicians. They even sing Juju songs in their albums. So what are the Juju musicians doing?” He however harbours no fears that Juju music will eventually peter out. “Juju can never die,” he tells you with certitude.
How I struggled with God
Obey says he struggled with God for 11 years before he finally hearkened to His call. Apart from direct contact with God in his dreams and through other media, Obey said God also sent to him a number of prominent ministers, including the late Archbishop Benson Idahosa and Bishop Odeleke. He eventually obeyed the call and says he’s had no cause to regret ever since.
What would be his advice for upcoming artistes? His response comes immediately. “First they should move closer to God. They should be more committed and dedicated to their calling. And they should be very hardworking too.”
Nigeria’s future is bright
Does he see any hope for our country, Nigeria? The minister glances at his watch, gazes at you for a while and begins to walk towards the stage at a leisurely pace. And as the noise emanating from his session men virtually drowns his voice, you pick up your recorder and follow him. “Nigeria’s future is bright,” he prophesies. “The country will be better. Good days are ahead. I will just want the government to take care of the Niger Delta people. It pleases God to put the oil in their region. So let them enjoy the wealth from that oil. Government should also realise that oil, which they have concentrated all their attention on now, will not always be there. Government should develop other sectors that can bring more wealth to the nation,’ he concludes, climbing the stage. And as he engages his men in a conversation, you bid him farewell, while you prepare to take the escalator to the hotel entrance, to commence the not too short drive back to Brooklyn Park.
First published in Daily Sun