It's been more than a week since the death of Ras Kimono was announced. His songs moulded much of my childhood, in the days when conscious music could top the chats, not only in Nigeria, but outside of it as well. Twas from "Brother" Nnamdi, who lived in the next house to ours, and was a family friend, that I learnt that Kimono's real name was Ekeleke, the Elumelu part I only learnt following his death. Nnamdi will regale us with stories of the deceased's childhood in Delta State, and how his place was one of the places Kimono stayed on visiting Lagos for the first time, including how they'd soaked garri in water, sometimes with sugar and groundnuts for a meal, and unfortunately also, how the latter seemed to have forgotten him after encountering fame. Even at my very impressionable age, I took some (not all) of those tales, with a pinch of salt, sadly I never met Ras Kimono up close (besides brushes at a musical events, at Freedom Park, Lagos, and once at Adekunle Bus Stop when he was driving with these huge speakers in the boot of his car, like he was coming from or going to a musical event), enough to ask him about his relationship with Nnamdi, or verify any of the stories he told me about him.


Once, while I was in university, and the group I belonged to, visited the zoo at the University of Ibadan, the highlight of which was to see the lion. It wasn't "Show Day" (when the lion is fed a live animal), so the lion was in his enclosure, and we had to peep into the rectangular holes in the wall. I'd spent a few seconds looking for the lion from one of the rectangles I'd chosen before realising that I was infact staring directly into the face of the lion, which was also returning the favour. I was gripped with mortal fear when I realised this, and was transfixed for that brief moment in my position, while appreciating the size of the lions' eyes, and when I came to, the size of its head, spanning a few of the rectangles horizontally, vertically and diagonally, before it turned around and walked away. Two of the members of the team that hosted my group from Lagos later helped my utterly shocked self walk away from there to see the Mule, the product of mating a male donkey with a female horse, before we moved on to the eternal tortoise and other side attractions. However, the sight and thought of that lion never left me, and incidentally each time I saw Ras kimonos' massive head with dreadlocks either live or on TV, I remember that lion, from which and where I got my inspiration to leave my locks uncut, even before I opted for the Nazarene Way of my Judaism faith, in the days before I defiled my body with alcohol and thereafter.


It wasn't only in keeping my hair long that Ras Kimono influenced me though, he also further entrenched my love for Reggae music, because it felt good that we didn't always have to look to Jamaica only, or to Lucky Dube in South Africa, or to Cote D'Ivoire's Alpha Blonde for redemption, as we now had our own, Ras Kimono, Majek Fashek (who with Kimono were members of a band in the early eighties before they split to follow successful solo careers), Orits Wiliki, The Mandators, Evi Edna Ogholi amongst many others, when Reggae musicians were making it as much as the local Juju and Fuji musicians were doing while Pop, Rock and Rap managed the crumbs, the exact opposite of what is obtainable in Nigeria's music scene of today. Interestingly, the intro of the song that launched Ras Kimono into stardom featured the words "stop that breakdance", to signify the arrival of his brand of Reggae, ”Rhumba Stylee"


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R84CMQjymyw

over the subsisting dance style of that period of the late eighties, with hopes to relegate other music genres, to the background while it lasted. Kimono's songs gave voice to the yearnings of the masses in Nigeria and Africa alike, of course because South Africa was under apartheid rule, that issue also featured prominently in his songs. His "Under Pressure"


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jQkw8papFaI

remains relevant even to this day, as the pressure Nigerians continue to face have yet to abate one bit since he released that hit track more than two decades ago.


Ras Kimono was one of the Reggae artistes who made "Nigerian Reggae". They "indigenized" it. Where Majek Fashek introduced the "Talking Drum" into his ska rhythm, Kimono brought in local language when he could, while Evi Edna sang reggae almost entirely in her native tongue, something that hadn't been seen up till the time, way before Buchi started doing gospel reggae, and Ras Tafar(a)i became "Christafar(a)i", and reggae's decline in Nigeria became a thing. I think the dearth of reggae in Nigeria wouldn't have occurred had the likes of The Mandators, Ras Kimono and Majek Fashek not left Nigeria to try their luck abroad, leaving the few like Orits Wiliki to keep the smouldering flame alive. The fact that their foray abroad did little for their careers also played a huge part, as it came to pass, that of the lot, only Majek made an impact, and at that only initially, before his demons caught up with him. By the time Kimono returned to Nigeria what people popularly listen to had changed. The era of conscious music ruling the airwaves was over, and beats over sensible lyrics had taken over, for Hip Hop and Rap.


The attempts Kimono and friends like Orits Wiliki, and other less popular reggae acts made to restore the glory days didn't meet with much success. I did infact attend a free show in that regard, which was greeted with apathy, as there were very few of us in the audience cheering artistes on the stage, as they regaled us with their hits of old, and a few of their latest works, which I must confess, lacked the spice that their old hits became popular for. Their efforts at rehabilitating Majek Fashek, as part of their activities I must also at this juncture mention, is also commendable considering how other musicians in other genres facing the kind of challenges Majek faced were abandoned to their fates.


I mustn't also fail to mention that Kimono's love for Patois endeared me to him, it made me learn to speak it, and converse to the best of my ability to and with anyone interested in in doing same whenever and wherever the occasion called for it, either jocularly or more seriously. Ras Kimono it was, and I stand corrected, who introduced Raga or Ragamuffin into Nigerian Reggae style, at a time even that genre was trying to find its foot in Jamaica, before it went on to become Dancehall. You'd feel a hint of same in some of his earlier works, though by the time it had become the way to go, and Daniel Wilson aka "Mr Ragamuffin" started reaping the benefits (even though the raga in his songs were not more than three lines repetitively done), Kimono had his sights set offshore.


I woke to find Ras Kimono trending on Nigerian Tweetosphere two Sundays ago and was curious as to what could've been responsible for that. I wasn't aware he'd got new materials for the music industry, so the only thing that came to mind that could've happened was that he'd died. Hence, when I clicked on his name, and read contributions from within and outside Nigeria, expressing sadness and shock owing to his demise, I took the news in its stride. He'd definitely immortalised himself with the work he's left behind, besides his impact on Nigeria's music industry, a number of which will stand unrivalled, as well as the test of time, as evidenced by the diverse section of the Nigerian, continental and international public, that responded to news of his demise. Ras Kimono will be sorely missed, but we will be consoled by the lavish amount of work in conscious music, that he left behind for our listening and viewing pleasure for all time.


'kovich


PICTURE CREDIT:
- https://www.kemifilani.com


LIVE FOREVER, RAS KIMONO https://madukovich./2018/06/19/live-forever-ras-kimono/