READ: The Drummer’s Exodus: Everything or Nothing (4)
The next day I packed my bags for Lagos, my father gave me his blessings for the first time towards my drumming and told me to go make our ancestors proud. I headed off to Lagos to Emeka’s apartment.
It had been 6months since my arrival in Lagos and I’d been playing in few bars in Lagos and known to few people as “Ilu Oro (words of the drum)” but yet to break into the mainstream. I went to African Shrine to hang-out with Emeka when the next performer (Femi Kuti) was running late, the crowd was getting restless. I got up (of course I did, without thinking though), went on stage and picked a talking drum and I played away and had artistes coming from the back stage to see who it was that was blowing up everyone’s mind, Femi Kuti joined in with me and that was my first unofficial official track titled “Aniyaweere (We won’t go insane)” and months later I released my first album record “Exodus”. That was the beginning of my rise and rise.
It was on a sunny saturday 4years after my rise, I decided to stock up (been a loner since the forest), went to get groceries. I was on the chocolate beverage aisle when a kid ( a boy of about 4years old) bumped into me, I turned to pick up the kid and I noticed something very familiar in the kid, his eyes. “I know those eyes anywhere” I said to myself, while I was contemplating on the possibility of how the kid could have….. “ROTIMI!” A voiced called with caution in it from behind me, I froze almost immediately and thought to myself again “That voice”. “I told you to be careful and always look at where you’re going”. I turned and froze halfway while saying “It’s alrig…” Lo and behold, Abisola was right there in front of me. I dropped the kid and he went into her arms (it all added up, those eyes were Bisola’s), I had only an unsolved issue to ask.
We hugged so tight I was alive again. We spoke at length, I apologized, she apologized for overreacting. She introduced me to the laddie and he inquired who I was, I looked at her and I noticed she was pale and teary, I stepped in and said “A friend”, she managed a smile as the tear rolled down (her made up face). I had gotten my answer. “I’ll be performing at the Civic centre this weekend, I’ll reserve your seat. Hope to see you.” We went our separate ways without exchanging contacts.
Well, I said it wasn’t a love story but a success story, only that one needs love (of a woman or family or friends) to declare oneself successful. What the future holds, I don’t know, but, since its a story, you can come up with one for me or us!……. Safe
P.S Special omobabapension.com anniversary and OBP birthday article #PensionOfSteels coming soon….
Memoirs of a Pensioner’s son, not Edited nor proof read, just poured out. safe