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Between Fela and Whizkid…. 2

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Fela

By Bola BOLAWOLE

Michael Jackson has now arrived in Jamaica for a meeting with Bob Marley. Read on!

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“Kingston, Jamaica, October 23rd, 1978. 8:30 p.m: The exclusive Pegasus Hotel’s penthouse suite was buzzing with quiet conversation when Michael Jackson walked through the heavy wooden doors… Michael had an agenda beyond social pleasantries.

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He wanted to propose something that would reshape both (his and Bob Marley’s) careers forever.

The contrast between the two men was immediately striking. Michael wore an expensive silk shirt, perfectly tailored pants, and his signature sequin glove, representing everything successful about the American music industry.

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Bob, in contrast, wore simple jeans and a cotton shirt, his dreadlocks flowing naturally, embodying the authentic spiritual energy that had made him reggae’s most respected voice…

Bob looked up as Michael approached, setting down his guitar with the measured calm that characterized everything he did. “Michael Jackson,” Bob said with a slight smile, gesturing to the empty chair across from him. “The prince of pop music. Bless up, brethren.”

Michael slid into the chair, immediately struck by the difference between this intimate setting and their brief backstage encounter three years earlier.

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Here, face-to-face, he could see the profound intelligence in Bob’s eyes—the spiritual weight he carried, the way he seemed to be listening to something beyond their conversation.

“Bob, it’s an honor to finally sit with you properly”, Michael said, his nervous energy evident despite his attempt to appear confident. “I’ve been hoping for this opportunity for years.

Bob’s expression remained warm but curious. “What brings the King of Pop to Jamaica, Michael? What’s on your heart?”

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Michael leaned forward across the small table between them, his excitement building as he outlined his vision. “Bob, I want to propose something that could change music history. A full collaboration—an album, a world tour, maybe even a concert film. We could combine your consciousness with my reach, your message with my platform.”

Bob studied Michael’s face carefully, reading not just his words, but his intentions… “Tell me more about this vision,” Bob said, folding his hands on the table.

Michael’s excitement grew as he painted his picture, gesticulating with typical enthusiasm. “Picture this: your spiritual lyrics with my melodies and production values. Your authentic message
reaching mainstream audiences who have never heard conscious music. We could reach 100 million people with messages about unity, love, and social justice.” Michael outlined the scope of his vision with genuine passion.

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Record executives had estimated the project could generate over $50 million in revenue.

The tour would hit every major American city, introducing reggae to audiences who had never heard conscious music before.

Bob listened intently, occasionally nodding, but his eyes never left Michael’s face.

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Across the table, he could sense Michael’s genuine enthusiasm—but also the fundamental misunderstanding that lay beneath the proposal.

“And how would this collaboration work practically?” Bob asked quietly. “Would my message change to fit your audience or would your audience change to receive my message?”

The question hung in the air between them like smoke from sacred fire.

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Michael hadn’t expected such a direct philosophical challenge, and Bob’s steady gaze made it impossible to avoid the deeper implications of what he was proposing.

“We could find a middle ground, hopefully” Michael suggested. “Keep your message but make it more accessible to mainstream audiences who might not be ready for the full intensity of Rastapharian philosophy.”

Bob leaned back slightly, creating physical space that somehow made his next question more powerful. “What does more accessible mean, Michael?”

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Sitting across from Bob in the intimate setting of the suite, Michael felt the weight of having to articulate something he’d never fully examined.

“Maybe less political content, more universal themes like love and unity that don’t make people uncomfortable—songs that can play on mainstream radio without causing controversy.”

Bob’s response was gentle but penetrating, his voice cutting through Michael’s commercial enthusiasm like truth through illusion.

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“Universal love that avoids uncomfortable truths isn’t universal love, Michael. It’s comfortable love. And comfortable love never changed anything.”

The face-to-face setting made every word feel more significant, more personal.

Michael could see the compassion in Bob’s eyes, but also the unwavering commitment to principles that couldn’t be compromised for any amount of success.

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Bob continued with an insight that would haunt Michael for years. “When you perform, Michael, what are you trying to accomplish? What do you want people to carry with them when they leave your concert?

Michael straightened in his chair, suddenly feeling like a student being examined by a master teacher. “I want to entertain people, make them happy, give them an escape from their problems, and I want to wake people up.”

Bob replied, his voice carrying the same authority that made his music so powerful. (In contrast, explaining what he seeks to accomplish when performing, Bob said): “To help them understand their problems and find the strength to solve them. Both callings have value, but they cannot be the same thing.” Bob’s voice took on the teaching quality that made his conversations as influential as his songs.

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“Michael, you have tremendous talent, tremendous gifts from Jah. Your ability to move people through music is extraordinary. But this collaboration you are proposing—it would require one of us to compromise our essential nature.”

The conversation continued for over an hour with Bob patiently explaining his philosophy while Michael tried desperately to find ways to make the collaboration work.

But sitting face-to-face, seeing Bob’s unwavering spiritual commitment up close, Michael began to understand that this wasn’t about business strategy or creative compromise.

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It was about two fundamentally different approaches to the purpose of music.

Bob continued with profound gentleness. “When Marcus Garvey spoke about black pride, white people were uncomfortable. When Martin Luther King spoke about justice, white people were uncomfortable. When Jesus spoke about loving your enemies, everyone was uncomfortable. Discomfort is often the first sign that consciousness is awakening.”

Bob paused, allowing his words to settle. “When you perform, you give people what they want—happiness, excitement, escape. When I perform, I give people what they need—truth, consciousness, spiritual awakening. Both serve Jah’s purpose, but they cannot be the same thing.”

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“But think about the impact we could have together”, Michael said desperately, leaning forward across the table. “The number of people we could reach with positive messages.”

Bob’s response became legendary among those who witnessed the meeting. “Michael, reaching many people with a diluted message is less powerful than reaching fewer people with a pure message. Quality of consciousness matters more than quantity of audience. Better to awaken one person completely than to entertain a million people temporarily.”

Michael felt the collaboration slipping away, but he made one last attempt. “What if we could do it your way? What if I adapted my style to your message instead of asking you to adapt your message to my style?”

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Bob appreciated Michael’s willingness to consider this approach, but his answer revealed the deeper issue.

“Michael, you are already perfect at what Jah called you to do. Your gift for bringing joy to people is precious and necessary. Don’t diminish that gift by trying to become something you are not. And don’t ask me to diminish mine by becoming something I am not.”

As their meeting neared its end, Bob said: “You are a star, and stars are meant to shine bright and bring joy to people. I respect that calling deeply. But I am not a star. I am a messenger. And messengers must deliver the message exactly as Jah gave it to them.”

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Bob stood slowly, extending his hand across the table. “We both serve the same creator through different expressions. Your path is perfect for you. Mine is perfect for me. To change either would diminish both.”

When they shook hands, Michael felt both disappointed and enlightened. Bob had rejected the biggest collaboration offer in music history…The proposed Michael Jackson–Bob Marley collaboration never happened. But both artists went on to achieve their destinies authentically.

Michael became the undisputed king of pop, using entertainment to bring joy to billions worldwide. Bob remained reggae’s spiritual messenger until his death in 1981.

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Years later, Michael would credit that face-to-face meeting with teaching him about artistic integrity. “Bob taught me”, Michael said, “that every artist has to choose between being famous and being important.”

Bob chose importance over fame every time…When Bob died in 1981, Michael was among the artistes who publicly honored his memory…The face-to-face meeting that could have created music history’s greatest collaboration instead created something more valuable—mutual understanding between two masters who recognized that their separate paths served the same goal of uplifting humanity through music.

The Michael Jackson–Bob Marley collaboration that never was reminds us that sometimes the most important artistic decisions are the ones that prioritize authenticity over opportunity, message over money, and spiritual integrity over commercial success.”

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We can pigeon-hole Fela and Bob Marley together and Michael Jackson and Whizkid likewise.

Everyone is blessed with talents; everyone is used by God for different purposes; everyone is a star in his own right; everyone, like Frantz Fanon posits, discovers their mission, to fulfil or betray it, taking different routes.

There is no basis, therefore, for comparison. We cannot compare apples with oranges.

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Also read:  Fenerbahce Sign Ngolo Kante with Erdogan’s Support

Financial success and audience followership are poor yardsticks of measurement because conscious music (Bob Marley/Fela) is not the same as entertainment music (Michael Jackson/Whizkid).

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Opinion

Seven prime ministers in a decade: What Nigeria can learn from Britain’s chaos

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Prime Minister

By Dr Toju Ogbe,

The resignation of British Prime Minister Keir Starmer, less than two years after leading the Labour Party to  a landslide electoral victory, was dramatic, yet reflected a pattern we have become familiar with in recent British politics.

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Also read: Abolish state of origin: A prerequisite for true national integration

Starmer now joins a procession of fallen prime ministers stretching back to 2016 – from David Cameron to Theresa May, Boris Johnson, Liz Truss, and Rishi Sunak.

None of these prime ministers was ousted through military intervention, popular insurrection, or a court order. Rather, each was ultimately brought down by the same political system that elevated them to electoral glory.

To the casual observer, the rapid turnover of British Prime Ministers in the last decade may appear chaotic, or even a symptom of political instability. Some argue that the British electorate has become ungovernable.

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However, beneath the apparent chaos at Westminster lies an uncomfortable truth that African democracies would do well to examine, particularly Nigerians who wonder why our democracy has delivered so little despite almost three decades of uninterrupted civilian rule.

The turbulence of British politics over the last decade, presents an important lesson on democratic accountability beyond successful elections.

Once the prime minister is deemed a liability by their own political party, the mechanics of accountability are activated. The daggers are quietly drawn and the ruthless pressure to resign begins.

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Every poll and survey on public opinion is closely monitored, local election results are taken as a referendum on leadership. Cabinet resignations begin to gain momentum and backbenchers get restless.

Once the news media smells an internal uprising, they amplify scrutiny of the prime minister, subjecting every move – speech, public appearance, political misstep etc to relentless examination.

Pressure gradually mounts until the prospect of bitter internal leadership challenge becomes impossible to resist. The Prime Minister falls.

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For every British Prime Minister, winning an election is merely the beginning of examination, not the end. Political survival lasts only for as long as the prime minister maintains the confidence of his party and the parliament.

This is the muscle of British democratic accountability; a political culture that prioritises institutional survival over individual ambition. Starmer recognised this reality in his resignation speech:

“The question my party is asking now is whether I am best placed to lead us into the next general election. I have heard the answer of my parliamentary party to that question, and I accept that answer with good grace.”

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That closing sentence alone is a masterclass in British institutional democracy. The party spoke. The leader listened. The correction comes from within.

 

Nigeria presents a strikingly different political logic.

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Nigeria on the other hand, presents an interesting contrast with a different political logic and culture.

The notion that a governing party would overtly interrogate the performance of its own leader and engineer a transition to someone better equipped to maintain public confidence, is in most cases politically unthinkable in Nigeria.

Political parties in Nigeria do not coalesce  around ideological principles; rather, they operate more as electoral instruments organised around powerful individuals.

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Internal dissent is often dealt with as betrayals rather than as part of healthy democratic engagement. Godfatherism and transactional loyalties shape political succession and leadership retention.

Once elected in Nigeria, there is an inherent assumption that a governor or president has a fixed two-term lease on power.

While 10 Downing Street is preparing to welcome its seventh Prime Minister in a decade, Nigeria, in contrast, has had only two democratically elected presidents during the same period – one of whom is still serving.

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Social and economic conditions may deteriorate. Insecurity may worsen. Campaign promises may be ignored.

Public frustrations may become unbearable. Yet, incumbent governors and presidents often remain insulated from meaningful internal scrutiny and are even routinely anointed as ‘consensus’ candidate for second terms provided loyalties to godfathers, rather than the electorates are maintained.

The consequence is that loyalty, instead of performance is often rewarded at the expense of accountability.

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This is not an argument for a revolving door at Aso Rock, as frequent leadership changes, by themselves, do not guarantee good governance.

Rather it is a case for making accountability an integral aspect of party politics in Nigeria.

Although the Nigerian presidential system provides for a fixed four-year term regardless of party confidence, political parties should however, be more than instruments for election campaigns, activated to simply retain or take over power every four years.

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Electoral victory, should not be the ultimate goal, but the starting point of public service where democratic legitimacy must be continuously earned.

Equally important, political parties must develop the institutional maturity to honestly evaluate their own leaders. They must prioritise public interest and institutional credibility over loyalty to ‘Godfathers’.

The ultimate lesson from Westminster’s revolving door is clear: the true strength of a democratic system, lies not in the ability to produce leaders, but the capacity to effectively replace them, when they no longer command confidence.

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Protecting failing leaders from accountability weakens democracy and political parties must ensure that no leader is more powerful than the institution.

Also read: Madugu Targets Strong WAFCON Title Defence for Super Falcons

As political parties gear up for the 2027 general elections, the political class must decide what matters more: we can continue to reward blind loyalty and endure predictable decline, or discover the courage to demand accountability from those who seek to lead us.

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