MTN Project 'Fake' and Sundry

I had the unusual opportunity to watch the TV last Sunday night (unusual, because I often end up doing something else). The programme which caught my attention was the first eviction performance of the 2008 MTN Project Fame West Africa – a singing competition that produced Nigeria’s Dare Art Alade as a second runner-up in a previous edition. Dare, incidentally is one of the duo anchors for this year’s edition. Fifteen contestants originating from four West African countries – Ghana, Liberia, Nigeria and Sierra Leone – are shortlisted to perform in the 9-week challenge.

MTN Project Fame is the Celtel’s (Zain’s) version of Idols Africa which is also drafted after the order of Simon Fuller’s Idols series. It is well understood that outfits in the same line of business sometimes have to compete with similar strategies and promotions which if otherwise neglected, might be to their detriment.

The first edition of West African version of Idols produced the likes of Timi Dakolo, Omawumi and Eric in 2007 – a crop of prodigies, Nigerians will not forget in hurry. Right from the auditions to the finale, it was evident Nigeria is endowed with legions of brilliant, young people.

I was chanced to watch this year’s edition of Idols East Africa from the gruelling auditions that spanned across many East and southern African countries, to the intriguing eviction performances which I must confess were excellent in content, organisation and delivery. The competition paraded some of Africa’s youngest and best musical talents. Eric, the marvellous and exceptional Zimbabwean bloke from Bulawayo clinched the ultimate prize.

What Idols West Africa 2007 lacked in eminence of studio/acoustics (which I learned was Planet One Studio in Lagos, Nigeria) it compensated for, in the superiority of contestants. Though the final competitors of Idols East Africa 2008 could not be compared with the top-notch finalists of Idols West Africa 2007, the Kenya studio in which the event took place was world-class and in the same league with that of American Idols’. This gave the event much grandeur, finery, grace and fun. Moreover, the contestants’ apparels were very well coutured. In general, the editing, previews, backstage tittle-tattles, interviews were likewise splendidly executed.

Sadly, not a few of the copious high-quality features of Idols East Africa show are conspicuously lacking in the 2008 edition of MTN Project Fame West Africa. The studios used for the auditions that cut across a number of major cities in West African countries were nothing different from music kiosks. Regrettably, the calibre of some of the audition judges beggars competence. This might have informed the quality of the eventual fifteen finalists whose renditions make the finale look like an audition itself.

While a couple of the final contestants tried to prove their own, the acoustics did more mayhem than suitably projecting the participants’ voices which made most of them struggle with their deliveries. Furthermore, the Ultima Studio compared to Kenya’s looks like a local government town hall installed with an obnoxious sound system.

The entrance pieces/intros of most of the contestants were tawdry and disastrous. Albeit, the contestants are being schooled in the Project Fame academy (where they are supposed to be groomed musically) however, their song choices and vocals question what actually go on in there. In addition, not a few of the contestants were ill-dressed for their performances.

Luckily, the first eviction show did not spell doom utterly. The anchors: Dare and Funlola Aofiyebi-Raimi; the instructors and judges gave viewers some reason to enjoy the show after all (due to their impeccable expertise), though there were observably some moments of incoordination.

These developments raise certain issues about the entertainment industry in Nigeria. To begin with, the qualities of the 2008 MTN Project Fame West Africa finalists do not reflect the abilities of raw, untapped talents that congest the West African landscape. As a matter of fact, Nigeria alone harbours innumerable first-rate geniuses that will make the work of any recruiter daunting and anything but enviable. However, MTN either through the use of inept judges or inapt event/concept mangers, spent resources (time, human and money) busy recruiting infelicitous individuals into its Project Fame academy.

Secondly, while Nigeria prides itself to be the heart/giant of Africa, nonetheless there exists not on her soil, a single world-class, capacious, indoor entertainment studio (with a first-class acoustic system) for an event of this magnitude. From Lagos to Maiduguri, Calabar to Sokoto, it might be safe to say a state-of-the-art indoor entertainment studio only exists in our imaginations. If Kenya could boast of a magnificent and well-equipped outfit, Nigeria should lose count of such. We should begin to live up to our self-acclaimed big brother position not just in ranting but vivified and material actions.

Thirdly, the packaging and delivery of the 2008 MTN Project Fame West Africa from the outset of audition to the final eviction performances portray dearth of professionalism and required panache.

Finally, in recent times, the Nigerian entertainment industry is flooded with reality TV series, most of which are adaptations or outright reproduction of Western/foreign TV programmes. The growing list includes Idols Africa, The Apprentice Africa, Dragons’ Den, Who Wants to be a Millionaire, Show Me the Money, The Intern, Celebrity Takes Two, the controversial Big Brother Africa, Gulder Ultimate Search, Amstel Malta Box Office (AMBO), The Next Movie Star, etc.

It is pitiable enough to be uninventive and non-original; hence it behooves reproducers of these programmes to present same with equal touchstone. After all, what is worth copying at all is worth copying well. Nonetheless, kudos must be given to a number of the programmes whose deliveries have been commendable. In this league, mention can be made of Celebrity Takes Two, The Apprentice Africa and Who Wants to Be a Millionaire.

Olórunsògo

Olórunsògo is the fading inscription written above the door entrance of the communal living quarters popularly called Face-Me-I-Face-You in local parlance, located at the end of Liadi Street. This derives its name from the layout of the facility: Depending on the magnanimity or rapacity of the landlord, this type of household may contain 8 to 14 rooms with a corridor that runs from the main entrance which leads to another door exiting into a backyard, with equal number of rooms facing one another on each side of the passage way. Occupants, irrespective of their number, share meagre essential facilities (if and where they are provided) à la kitchen (usually a shed with stone tripods for cooking), bathrooms and toilets (often one or two pit latrines), all located in the backyard.

Olórunsògo which literally means “God has done something glorious” obtains its name from the deceased owner, Alhaji Olorunsogo a small scale industrialist in wood planks business. He owned half a dozen of sawmills scattered around the city with scores of workers on his pay roll. A thrifty business man, Alhaji Olorunsogo wasn’t half sparing on the home front. With five wives living under the same roof, innumerable concubines catered for on Alhaji’s bills and twenty-three “official” children, Olorunsogo proved without doubt that he was a man of insatiable libido!

In spite of his numerous properties, the exit of Alhaji did not but cause a royal rumble in the apportioning of the Olorunsogo’s empire. After a hurried burial, extended family members (ranging from immediate step-siblings to fifth cousins) grabbed a chunk of Alhaji’s estates leaving his wives and two dozens children to share the leftovers. Matters were complicated by emergence of concubines and their wards that also came to lay claim on the residual largesse. The “might is right; eat or be eaten” phenomenon took over. Wives and their children alike sprang at one another’s necks and lives. Dauda, Alhaji’s third son from his second wife lost his sight in an alleged juju (voodoo) battle with one of his kin. This is still being investigated as the neighbourhood police is “working day and night” to unveil the evil-doer(s).

Owing to sheer strong-headedness and access to firsthand information, Morufu (Alhaji’s first son and second child from his second wife) was able to lay hold on the Olórunsògo papers; one of Alhaji’s few remaining real estates. Hence, he assumed the position of the new landlord and rent collector, a status that’s still being contested by Salewa (Alhaji’s first daughter and first child from his first wife), the heiress-apparent to the Olorunsogo throne.

Back to Olórunsògo.

The inhabitants of Olórunsògo could least be described as a collection of assorted characters and enigmas – a very interesting household indeed.

Starting from the longest staying tenant, Daddy Pastor (as he’s popularly called), the roll call can’t be more intriguing. Daddy Pastor as the name indicates, pastors a shanty church with a dozen members, down the street adjacent to where Olórunsògo is situated. A 53-year old father of eight, Daddy Pastor “received a vision” to be a minister of the gospel a couple of years ago. It’s often rumoured that this might not be unconnected to his failure as a welder when he’d hardly fend for his large family. To ascertain they fulfil the Old Testament tradition of paying tithes and to avoid any temptation of “eating” this portion of their income, at the end of every month Daddy Pastor makes it a point of duty to collect tithes, going from one church member’s house to another. He saves them the trouble of having to pay the tithes in church, before which many of them may re-consider payment.

Daddy Pastor’s wife automatically christened Mommy Pastor is a full-time housewife. Being married to the longest staying tenant she also by default qualifies to be the landlady-tenant. Therefore, she coordinates the women folk of Olórunsògo’s household on appropriate matters. Her position also gives her the right to occupy the veranda space in front of the house where she sells cooked beans and eegbo (over-cooked dry corn) served with fried fish stew to augment whatever her husband pays himself from the church coffers.

Daddy Pastor, his wife and eight children all occupy a “room-and-parlour” (two rooms with one used as a living room and the other, a bedroom).

Sisi Vero the 49-year old spinster appears next on the roll. Sisi means a lady in her teens or twenties. Why Veronica (shortened Vero) who’s almost striking her golden jubilee, insists to be called Sisi never ceases to amaze everyone. It was alleged that Sisi Vero once slapped an okada man (motorcyclist) vivaciously for addressing her as “Madam.” The two were taken to the police station and accused of “two fighting.” Sisi Vero, a woman (oops! a lady) that has had her fair share of failed relationships still believes she is young enough to marry a man of her dream (Would someone tell her to wake up before she does so in her grave?)! This informs her mode of dressing: From the colour-riot overdone make-up to the tight-fitting undersize dresses, buxom Sisi Vero tenaciously fights for space amongst contemporary and (in her own words) saucy girls.

Often times when she hosts a particular man for a long while, expectations are high as to her eventual “settling down.” Howbeit, more often than not when the man is no longer seen and Sisi Vero asked why, her scornful and hiss-ful response is one that’s always ambiguous and of the same leaning – it’s either the man doesn’t know what he wants or he’s married.

On many occasions, Sisi Vero disappears from home for days and at times weeks. No one really has an idea of what she does for a living.

Joe, the graduate and bachelor teacher lives next room to Sisi Vero. Joe moved into Olórunsògo after months of unfruitful job search. A graduate of Linguistics from one of the state-owned universities, Joe got wind of job opportunities acclaimed to outnumber job-seekers in Lagos. As a result, he moved in with a fellow town’s man who readily accepted to accommodate the new comer. However, after weeks of enjoying free food and accommodation with no prospect of securing a job, the wife of his benefactor deemed it fit to declare an end to the generosity bestowed Joe, with alacrity. Luckily for him, before he was sent packing, Joe got a job as a primary school teacher two streets away from Olórunsògo where he now resides. Oga Joe (as called by housemates) takes advantage of the beehive of children parented by Daddy Pastor and others in the neighbourhood by organising home lessons for a number of them. At times when payment is delayed, Joe barters food with Mommy Pastor for his home service.

Mr. Sunday, the electrician is a resource-tenant of Olórunsògo not because of what he gives but that which he saves the household. His expertise enables him to backdate the reading on their NEPA analogue meter, now and again. As a result, the household is able to evade payments of huge sums of electricity bills. On occasions when they are cut off from the mains supply by the authority, Mr. Sunday artfully reconnects Olórunsògo typically at night.

The conscientious electrician recently got married to Patience who everyone calls Iyawo (meaning “wife”). Mr. Sunday works for a small-scale local contractor. Occasionally, when business is on the gloomy side, he plies his okada (motorcycle) within the environs in order to eke out a living. On the other hand, Iyawo seems too otiose to complement her husband's efforts. All she is ever seen in is a filthy wrapper tied sloppily over her almost bare chest. All day long, she stays indoors watching home videos on Sunday’s 14-inch black-and-white TV. Patience's laziness doesn’t permit her to cook. Hence, she patronises food hawkers or Mommy Pastor depending on what her appetite dictates. Poor Sunday!

Another couple that occupies the “room-and-parlour” on the opposite wing is the aged Papa Nkechi with his wife, Mama Nkechi and their grand daughter, Oname. Papa Nkechi is a railway corporation retiree train driver while his wife sells ugu (a delicacy vegetable) at the community market. Years of accumulated pensions have impoverished the old man and his family. A civil war veteran, he always reminisces with relish the role he took in the “no victor, no vanquish” pyrrhic war. He lost an index finger, the stump of which he’s eager to show anyone who cares to listen to his tales. Indeed, ol’ soldier never dies.

Their only child, Nkechi is married and lives with a vehicle spare parts business man who resides at the other end of town. At 15, Nkechi was impregnated by a “friendly” neighbour vulcaniser, an act he wasn’t willing to take responsibility for. Painfully, she had to drop out of school in order to supplement support for taking care of her baby, Oname. After years of emotional dejection, Nkechi regarded herself fortunate when Nnamdi requested for her hand in marriage, but only on one condition – he’s ready to cater for Oname but not under his roof. Not wanting to jeopardise this rare opportunity and fortune’s smile on her, she dumps Oname with Papa and Mama.

The last on the queer list is Bovi – the neighbourhood Casanova. Bovi came into Olórunsògo as a Youth Corper almost three years ago and he still claims to be on the one-year programme, for this reason he’s either referred to as Bovi or Corper. Many a time, the adventurous young man has been the object of accusation from mothers within the neighbourhood who claim Bovi has tactically deflowered their young daughters. Adolescent girls have been warned severally to keep off the amorous Corper but he always has a way around them as they’re seen either leaving or entering his den frequently.

The highpoint of Bovi’s escapades came when he was sought for by the police a couple of months ago but (un)fortunately he wasn’t indoors. When accosted by Daddy Pastor and Papa Nkechi as to ascertain the undisclosed reason behind the visit from the “men in black”, Bovi denied any wrong doing and assured them the “case” was resolved. Truly, no one knows Bovi’s source of livelihood. Besides, he’s often seen with questionable characters spending hours in the neighbourhood cybercafé. It’s rumoured that he’s a yahoo yahoo boy (advance fee fraudster).

Today, I decide to drive through the gully-ridden Liadi Street not out of lacking serious business doing but, sheer curiosity seeing a crowd of people gather in front of Olórunsògo. I am told Salewa and Morufu (Late Alhaji Olorunsogo’s children) are having a showdown there. The uncertainty that surrounds the new landlord/lady has excused the not-too-willing occupants from paying their rents. Consequently, Salewa and Morufu converged at Olórunsògo to slog it out. Both came simultaneously to collect the overdue rents from the tenants, each claiming legal right to do so. In the process, I think ignominious words were exchanged as each challenged the other to a reloaded version of the clash of the titans. At the moment, I can see Salewa with a swollen eye and in tattered clothings attempting to hold the part covering her bosom. Sprawling on the floor is Morufu, with a head which has doubled in size oozing out blood, turbulently. By his side lies a metal pole – I guess this should be the pain-inflicting weapon used by Salewa. Despite his obvious awfully painful condition, Morufu held down by on-lookers and passers-by, still brawls at Salewa.

Wonders have decided to reside at Olórunsògo! Anytime you need a break from the norm, feel free to visit Olórunsògo. It’s at No. 18 Liadi Street.

Going Brrrrrrh! on the Creative Side of Advertising

Advertising in plain terms is “the public promotion of a product, service, business, or event in order to attract or increase interest in it.” It is an essential trade tool required to create awareness, solicit acceptability and/or increase sales of a product or service, thereby reinforcing the "brand." As a result, advertisements at times blend coaxing messages with factual information.

Although certain isms believe that an excellent product or service should “speak for itself”, hence little of no advertisement might be required. Howbeit, publicity of such is usually the first avenue via which the existence of such a good or service is taken cognisance of, ab initio. Proponents of this school of thought seem to be unmindful of the various types and media of advertising that exist. Publicising a product could range from informal words of mouth, reference/advice to formal, contemporary, state-of-the-art techniques. Advertising (in its various forms) serves as an indispensable arena where promotion of goods and services can be jump-started.

Advertising dates back to historic times. With the invention of papyrus during the First Dynasty era (about 3100 to 2890 BC), Egyptians likewise ancient Greeks and Romans had created various forms of commercial messages and political campaign displays. It has also been recorded that as printing developed in the 15th and 16th centuries, advertising throve into handbills. In the 17th century, advertisements began to appear in English newspapers.

The advent of television and radio broadcasting completely revolutionised promotion of goods and services. Increasingly, cable television played an unprecedented role when introduced in the late 1980s and early 1990s. The internet created new cutting-edge technologies and avenues for marketing purposes, with the boom of innumerable websites for businesses to interactively reach their legion of customers.

With the emergence of a materialistic 21st century world, business promoters are always at neck-and-neck rivalry - a fierce competition aimed at grasping the attention and better still, the pockets of a more cognisant pool of consumers. These, indeed are exciting times!

In present times, advertising via whatever means, has gone highly cerebral while scintillatingly appealing to all the senses of already captured or potential customers. This probably has continuously informed the extraordinary adverts placed by the No. 1 beverage company in the world – Coca-Cola.

The Coca-Cola company has established its brand worldwide. It is said the word “Coke” is among a couple of the most popular in the world that requires no translation to any language or form of dialect! – “Coke” in Luxembourg does not change its pronunciation and meaning in the Americas, Asia or Africa. Despite the fact that one can safely say Coca-Cola has crushed almost every form of competition, provided varieties of its products and captured a wide range of consumers, the Asa Candler-brand has not ceased to expand its frontiers in any possible manner. It has relentlessly “shifted the demand curve to the right” so that its consumers will buy more of its products at the same price. This is spelt out in its recent “Coke side of life” campaign.

In its various forms, one that readily charms is the “It’s Brrrrrrh on the Coke Side of Life” version. This parades a contemporary Negro chief (with his toothy, afro-hair, megaphone-holding page) experiencing a “vibration” after sipping some Coke. It also shows a parrot losing its feathers to the “brrrrrrh” phenomenon. The shake-up experience furthermore finds expression in a football fan that couldn’t brrrrrrh hitherto until the Coke substance gets into his digestive streams. “Brrrrrrh” is depicted to be a sensational thrill one experiences after drinking the more-than-a-century old soft drink. Coca-Cola has consistently trail-blazed advertising. Creativity is the key! And this is the essence of this write-up.

In spite of nouveau developments and exhilaration designed to aid advertising in all its ramifications, the advertising landscape in certain climes appears to be parched, colourless, monotonous and non-inventive. In recent times, some adverts have lost the tonic of originality and inspiring ingenuity. This is usually played out in copious ads as observed daily: For a number of industries, what is often seen is a “strange object” that suddenly appears in the sky. This catches the attention of various individuals – the market woman, the newspaper vendor, the corporate executive, the taxi driver, the shop owner, et cetera – as they chase this “object” (which is usually the company’s logo or brand) through market places, highways and byways, across streams, rivers and some times transoceanic! It’s either this or an adaptation of same. One could almost predict what certain adverts are about at first glance and after watching for moments.

Apart from creativity, another major problem with the present lack-lustre adverts has to do with the targeted audience/viewers or market. Most intended consumers often fail to understand or get the message about the product or service being advertised. I once watched an advert clip on a cable TV with a number of individuals as we waited in a banking hall. One of the viewers voiced openly he couldn’t understand the “nonsense”! Intellectually, it was light years beyond him.

Be it as it may, it is expected that advertisers and promoters need a “brrrrrrh” (in more concrete terms, a shake up). While it is not being required of advertisers to “re-invent the wheel”, it is expedient they make the use of the wheel further attractive. They should be more creative, imaginative, resourceful and original with their adverts.

It’s time to get some shake-up. Let’s go “brrrrrrh” on the creative side of advertising!

Comments are welcome.