Opinion

Upclose With Rex Lawson

Published

5 years ago

January 29, 2021

The Tide

“A prophet is not without honour, but in his own country, and among his own kin, and in his own house.” (Mark, 6:4)

The story of Rex and I eloquently captures the essence of this

biblical statement by Jesus, the Man from Galilee.

I was cofounder and bassist of The Blackstones, which is the first rock band formed in Rivers State after the Civil War. Rex and I lived and performed in the core of Port Harcourt Township. Rex lived at No. 35 Aggrey Road by Sokoto Street and The Blackstones lived at No. 33. Ludo Nite Club was located at Hospital Road by Sokoto Street and Hilsom Inn sat at Bernard Carr Street by Sokoto Street.

Rex was the undisputed global king of the highlife genre and I was a provincial personification of rock music. At the time, rock music with its earthy and heavy underground sound had evolved from pop and was sufficiently threatening the continued existence of highlife with extinction. This was a by-product of the widely prevalent colonial mentality syndrome (colomentasyn), which placed high premium on any and everything foreign over homegrown alternatives, especially amongst the youth. This struggle for social spotlight was exacerbated by the fact that Berepele Davies, a dashing gentleman from Bakana and publisher of Flash Magazine, put my photograph (with my bass guitar in hand) on the cover of the magazine for six months; at the time, Flash was one of the only two monthly magazines in Nigeria. Beyond the difference in music, I was a teetotaler while Rex smoked the biggest wrap of weed I ever saw and could empty a bottle of gin in one fell swoop straight from the bottle. So, we were dealing with the dual difference of music genre and lifestyle. I must confess, we were on common grounds regarding the Third W, if you know what I mean.

That was the setting when Rex had the contract to tour England. With the advent bass guitar venturing into the highlife genre in place of the fiddle bass, Rex sent Francis Oviebo, his alto saxophonist, to poach me from The Blackstones for the trip. While the prospect of travelling to Europe had a compelling allure for me, I could not imagine being a bassist in a highlife band; so, I turned down the offer.

Rex returned from the tour with only three of the nine members of his band. Without a band of his own, Rex showed up during one of our gigs at Romeo Star Hotel on Victoria Street, Port Harcourt and requested to perform with us. He spotted a two-piece deep brown velvet safari suit that complimented his colour and his radiantly glowing skin. Irrespective of the contagious sociability and superimposing personality he exuded, I objected to his proposition but was out-voted by the other members of the band. So it came to pass that the first post-British tour public performance of Rex Lawson was with The Blackstones.

Shortly into the performance, Amakiri Photos came to take pictures of us and I moved off the camera-way to avoid being captured in a photo with Rex. However, the camera caught the machine head of my Egmond bass guitar. At the end of the show, Rex requested a group photograph with the band and I refused to be part of it. Peter Brown, Gee Richards, Tammy Evans, Sam Mathews and Johnnie Fibbs, our manager, joined him. That photograph is on page 12b of Cardinal Rex Jim Lawson: The Legend by Sopriala Hutchinson Bobmanuel. This sums up the silent rift between Rex and I before his demise.

As a result of family and societal pressure and the general perception of musicians as school dropouts and ne’er do wells, Peter Brown (lead guitar/keyboards), Gee Richards (rhythm guitar) and I decided to go back to school; this decision was buoyed by the liberal education policy of Governor Alfred Diete-Spiff. Resultantly, Peter Brown went to Manchester University to study Metallurgy, Gee Richards went to Buckingham University to study Law and I enrolled at Murray State University (MSU), Murray, Kentucky, USA to study Radio/TV Broadcasting.

In August 1974, Emmanuel “Iyo” Atonkiri Dokubo (King Emmanuel Dokubo-Spiff, now a traditional ruler) brought an album of Rex to MSU preparatory for Fall Semester 1974. During Christmas break, I was assigned to manage the university Radio/TV station, WKMS, during the break. In the US tradition of hands-on education, I opened, managed and closed the station every day for two weeks. In the early hours of one morning, I played Rex Lawson’s So Ala Temem on WKMS. Shortly thereafter, my head of department, Professor Bob Howard, stormed out of the elevators at the 11th floor of Nathan Stubblefield Building that housed my department. His questions and exclamations reflected a combination of fear and fury. Howard reminded me of the regulations of Federal Communications Commission (FCC), which stipulates that no record of foreign language be played on US radio stations.

On the first day of class the next semester, Howard brought up the issue in class and emphasized the need for students to obey FCC rules. Just as he was about to go into the business of the day, a student requested the privilege of listening to the music in African language. Other students echoed the view and I was asked to bring the record on the next day of class.

On D-Day, I brought the album and Howard brought a turntable. I was asked to introduce the song; so I talked about the highlife genre, its predominance in the West African music scene of yesteryears and its waning popularity, especially amongst the youth given the potent threat from rock. I also discussed the dominance of Rex in the artform especially his being crowned King of Highlife and the fact that he and I come from the same State and I played with him. Thereafter, So Ala Temem was played and, at the request of the students, it was encored three times. Then the reactions followed.

One after the other, the students discussed the song: the sonority of the velvet-smooth voice, the uncanny combination of lamentation and supplication in the delivery of the vocals; the balanced sound engineering; the brevity of the song, which they considered unfortunate and the tightness of the music with one instrument ushering in another in a perfectly coordinated orchestration etc. I folded my arms in total awe. “All these about Rex?” I soliloquized. Thereafter, I spent many days listening to Akaso Inyingi, Berebote, Ibinabo, Suzana Pango (with the compelling tenor saxophone intro by Tony Obs), Sobebo Ibina, Mekine Wabote, Ayemuba Udeaja and, of course, So Ala Temem, which reconciled Rex and I, albeit post-humously. Listening to these songs, I heard the music of Rex from the perspective of the comments of my classmates. Jesus was right; Rex was without honour in his country, amongst his kin and in his home.

Ever since, I became an avid disciple of Cardinal Rex Lawson. He was a master of spontaneity, which yields the best in creativity. As a conscience-mending conciliatory gesture, I have published tributes to him in Thisday, Guardian, The Tide etc every January since I returned. Rex deserves to be honoured with a heroic epic movie, which will burn his legend into the psyche of the youth with special reference to the productive potency of focus and tenacity in one’s chosen field of endeavor.

Adieu, Erekosima

Dr. Osai is an Associate Professor at the Rivers State University, Port Harcourt.

Opinion

Ndifon’s Verdict and University Power Reform

Published

3 days ago

November 24, 2025

The Tide

Quote:”But beyond the courtroom victory lies a pressing question: What next? How do we ensure that Nigerian universities no longer serve as hunting grounds for predatory academics? How do we guarantee that students—especially young women—can pursue education without fear of victimization?”

The conviction of Professor Cyril Ndifon, suspended Dean of Law at the University of Calabar, to five years in prison by the Federal High Court Abuja, provided a rare moment of relief amid the week’s troubling national events. Beyond punishing one individual, the judgment signaled that accountability—especially regarding sexual harassment and abuse of power in Nigerian higher institutions—may finally be gaining traction. For years, many students, especially young women, have quietly endured intimidation, coercion, and the misuse of academic privilege. Reports and surveys have consistently shown the depth of this problem. A 2018 World Bank survey estimated that 70% of female graduates had faced some form of sexual harassment in school, while a Nigerian study recorded sexual violence as the most common form of gender-based violence on campuses.

Ndifon’s case has therefore become symbolic—challenging the belief that powerful academics can act with impunity. Justice James Omotosho’s ruling went beyond the conviction; it exposed the systemic rot that enables abuse. His description of Ndifon as a predator highlighted how institutions fail when they lack strong, independent structures for accountability. Although the Independent Corrupt Practices and Other Related Offences Commission (ICPC) proved its case beyond reasonable doubt, many similar cases never reach court because victims remain afraid, discouraged, or convinced that the system will not protect them. A major difference in this case was that a government agency fulfilled its responsibility rather than letting the matter fade, as often happens with campus scandals. Too often, allegations arise but internal committees stall, victims lose hope, and the accused quietly escape consequences.

This time, however, the judiciary refused to allow such evasion. The court’s decision to center the victims and dismiss attempts to discredit them set an important precedent at a time when survivors are often blamed or pressured into silence. Yet the bigger question remains: What next? How can Nigerian universities become safe spaces where students, particularly young women, can pursue education without fear? First, reporting systems must be overhauled. Traditional structures—where complaints pass through heads of departments or deans—are inadequate, especially when senior officers are the accused. Independent, gender-sensitive complaint bodies are essential. Some institutions, such as the University of Ibadan and Godfrey Okoye University, have already taken steps by establishing gender-mainstreaming units. Other universities must follow suit, ensuring confidentiality, protection from backlash, and transparent investigations.

Second, proven cases of harassment must attract real consequences—not quiet transfers or administrative warnings. Sexual exploitation is not a mere disciplinary issue; it is a crime and should be promptly escalated to law-enforcement agencies. Treating criminal behaviour as an internal matter only emboldens perpetrators. Third, students must feel safe to speak up. As a senior lecturer at the University of Abuja advised, silence fuels impunity. Students need to believe that justice is attainable and that they will be supported. This requires consistent sensitization efforts by student unions, civil society groups, gender advocacy organizations, and ministries of women affairs. New students, in particular, need early guidance to understand their rights and available support systems. The recent approval of the Sexual Harassment of Students (Prevention and Prohibition) Bill, 2025, prescribing up to 14 years imprisonment for educators convicted of harassment, is a step in the right direction.

Quick presidential assent and domestication by states will strengthen legal protection. As Nelson Mandela said, “A society that fails to protect its women cannot claim to be civilized.” This principle must guide Nigeria’s legislative and institutional reforms. The legal profession has its own soul-searching to do. Law faculties are expected to model ethics and justice. When a senior law academic betrays these values, the damage extends beyond the victims—it undermines confidence in both higher education and the justice system. The judiciary’s firm stance in this case therefore reinforces the idea that the law exists to protect the vulnerable, not shield the powerful. Yet, this moment should not end with celebration alone; it must ignite a broader institutional awakening. Universities must begin to review their staff appraisal systems to include behavioural ethics, not just academic output.

Governing councils should strengthen oversight mechanisms and ensure that disciplinary processes are free from internal politics. Alumni associations and parents’ forums can also play a monitoring role, demanding higher standards of conduct from staff and administrators. Importantly, the government must provide universities with the financial and technical support needed to establish functional gender desks, counselling units, and digital reporting platforms. Only when all stakeholders take ownership of the problem can lasting reform be achieved. Professor Ndifon’s sentencing represents justice for one victim, but it must inspire justice for many more. It should mark the beginning of a nationwide resolve to reclaim Nigerian universities from those who misuse authority. The future of education in this country must be shaped by knowledge, dignity, and integrity—not fear or manipulation. The judgment is a call to action: to build campuses where students are safe, where lecturers are held accountable, and where power is exercised with responsibility. Only then can Nigeria truly claim to be nurturing the leaders of tomorrow.

By: Calista Ezeaku

Opinion

As Nigeria’s Insecurity Rings Alarm

Published

3 days ago

November 24, 2025

The Tide

Quote:”President Donald Trump’s designation of Nigeria a Country of Special Concern and further threats to intervene in countries experiencing religious persecution reflect a growing international concern regarding Nigeria’s deteriorating security situation.”

In recent years, Nigeria has witnessed an alarming evolution of insecurity that threatens not only the stability of the nation but also the broader West African region. Bandit attacks on schools, farms, mosques, and Christian worship centers have become distressingly commonplace, painting a grim picture of a country under siege from multiple fronts. The rise of kidnappings for ransom, coupled with the persistent threat of terrorism from groups like Boko Haram and ISWAP, has ignited fears among communities and hampered economic activities. As neighboring Sahel countries grapple with coups and the spread of extremist ideologies, Nigeria finds itself at a precarious crossroads that demands urgent attention and action.

According to media tally, about 2,496 students have been abducted in 92 school attacks since the Chibok saga of 2014. And prompted by recent incidents in Kwara, Kebbi and Niger states, where hundreds of pupils were abducted, state governments across northern Nigeria are shutting down, or relocating schools. Even the federal government last week, via the Federal Ministry of Education hastily ordered principals of 41 unity schools across northern Nigeria, to shut-down.The increasing frequency and audacity of bandit attacks highlight a troubling trend in Nigeria’s security landscape. Schools, once seen as sanctuaries for learning, have become targets for kidnappers seeking to exploit vulnerable students. These attacks not only disrupt education but also instill fear in families, leading to mass withdrawals from schools. Should we raise a generation of children deprived of their right to education?

Similarly, farms and places of worship have not been spared. Communities that once thrived on agriculture and faith, now live in constant dread of violent incursions. The targeted killings of Christians and attacks on mosques further exacerbate religious tensions, threatening to disrupt the social fabric that holds Nigeria together.The situation is compounded by the unsettling developments in the Sahel region, where coups and the rise of jihadist groups have created a volatile environment. The spillover effects of this instability are palpable in Nigeria, as extremist ideologies proliferate and armed groups gain confidence. The porous borders of the region facilitate the movement of militants and weapons, making it increasingly difficult for Nigerian authorities to contain the threats. As Nigeria struggles to secure its territory, the consequences of failure become more pronounced, with the potential for a broader regional crisis looming on the horizon.

President Donald Trump’s designation of Nigeria a Country of Special Concern and further threats to intervene in countries experiencing religious persecution reflect a growing international concern regarding Nigeria’s deteriorating security situation.

While such attention can bring much-needed awareness to the plight of affected communities, it also underscores a significant truth: the responsibility for addressing these challenges ultimately lies with the Nigerian government. The inaction and apparent inability to protect citizens from violence and ensure justice for victims send a troubling message about the state’s commitment to safeguarding its populace. The economic ramifications of this evolving insecurity are dire. Foreign investment, a critical driver of economic growth, is deterred by the pervasive violence and instability.

Investors are wary of committing resources to a country where the risk of loss is heightened by kidnappings and attacks on businesses.Additionally, agricultural production suffers as farmers abandon their lands, fearing for their safety. The recent upsurge in insecurity coincides with a crucial harvest season, when farmers need to recoup investment to finance the next round. A decline in harvests this year would reverse recent gains of recovery in food production and exacerbate poverty, further straining the nation’s resources. Socially, the implications of failing to tackle insecurity are profound. Mistrust in government institutions grows as citizens witness a lack of effective response to violence and crime. This erosion of faith can lead to civil unrests, as frustrated populations demand accountability and action.

Moreover, the vulnerability of young people in conflict-affected areas increases the risk of radicalization, as they seek identity and purpose in extremist movements that exploit their disillusionment. The South-East crisis is peculiar in this regard. The evolving insecurity in Nigeria is not merely a national crisis; it poses a significant threat to regional stability and international interests. The convergence of banditry, terrorism, and political instability in the Sahel creates a complex security environment that requires a coordinated response. The Nigerian government, in partnership with regional allies and international partners, must adopt a comprehensive strategy that addresses the root causes of insecurity, strengthens law enforcement, and fosters community resilience.

It’s time Nigerians address all regional grievances with reconciliation and empathy, rather than with coercion. As citizens, civil society, and international stakeholders, it is crucial to advocate for effective policies that prioritize security, justice, development and inclusiveness. A collective effort is needed to ensure a safer, more stable future for Nigeria and the West African region. Ultimately, Nigeria stands at a critical juncture. The path forward demands decisive action to restore security, rebuild trust, and ensure that all citizens can live without fear. The time for complacency has passed; the stakes are too high, and the consequences of inaction are too grave. A collective effort is essential to navigate this challenging landscape and forge a safer, more stable future for Nigeria and the West African region.

By: Joseph Nwankwor

Opinion

The Girl Who Didn’t Dance

Published

1 week ago

November 19, 2025

The Tide

Quote:”

This piece is, primarily, the story of the girl who refused to dance during my first public performance as a pop musician. The event was the birthday party of Okechukwu Ogbowu at the residence of Chief Moses Nma Ogbowu at Omoku in February 1968. Secondarily, it is the story of a group of Ogba/Egbema youths who the chiefs considered rebellious and should, therefore, be watched very carefully. These two anecdotes are woven together by the story of my foray into music as a career in my youth. In 1958, I went on holidays to the home of my uncle Eze JNA Nwachuku at Ahoada. There, I heard a very strange music that tickled my preteen fancy to the point I started singing it using words I made up; I was eight. Back to Alinso Okeanu (Beach) after the holidays, the kids in the cosmopolitan community were wowed by my air and swag while singing the very strange song.

Years later, I learned the real words of the jazz classic “Hit the Road Jack” by Ray Charles. At fifteen, I was arraigned before a juvenile court in Omoku for singing a love song that contained the word “kiss” to the princess of Ogbaland at Ahia Orie market square; though discharged and acquitted, I was bound over to be of good behavior for six months. At sixteen, I got de-robed from the choir of St. Michael’s Church, Omoku for buying a guitar and audaciously changing my name from Enoch. At seventeen, I had my debut at Okechukwu’s birthday party where the girl, who is the primary focus of this piece, did not dance. During the party. I performed three songs: (1) “All My Loving” by The Beatles, which was the song that took me to the juvenile court, (2) “Midnight Hour” by Wilson “Wicked” Pickett and (3) “Please Don’t Tease” by Cliff Richard.

These songs are laden with amorous innuendos and have the words “kiss” and “love”, which were considered sacrilegious in those days. The veiled explicitness of Wicked Pickett’s lyricism didn’t help matters either; it added to the excitement, which became more palpable and the connection between crowd and artiste grew more profound, when Innocent Masi (now Dr. IA Masi mni) placed a five shillings note on my forehead. Everyone at the party virtually summersaulted on the dance floor, which was the interior balcony of Ogbowu’s house, the most beautiful house in Omoku then. The next day, the chiefs held an emergency meeting at the home of Chief S.O. Masi who was Commissioner of Onitsha Province during the First Republic; that province is now Anambra State. The single item on the agenda was the worrisome activities of the youths.

At the end of the meeting, a chief, whose name and the first book of the Gospels would tango smoothly to the rhythms and rhymes of poetry, threatened to shoot me if he ever saw me near his house with my jita. I perfectly understood his predicament; he had many pretty daughters. Poor fellow, unbeknownst to him, I was yet to know the difference between the birds and the bees. The next evening, Monday Wokocha (late Professor Addison), Gary Omo-Odi and I dared the chief in a daredevil episode that belongs in another narrative. He shot…in the air. That day, my parents seized my guitar and grounded me. Subsequently, my uncle Nwachuku whisked me off to Port Harcourt. Back to the party; yes, everyone at the party virtually summersaulted except a girl from Obite who didn’t step on the dance floor. She was slim, beautiful and quite tall for girls (even for boys) of that era; so, she stood very elegant.

Beyond the call-response greetings that characterize the socio-culture of the people of Ogba and Egbema, she was almost taciturn; she was shy and rarely spoke except when spoken to. However, she had a smile that lit up the environment as it contrasted with her ebony skin that glowed with the radiance of youth. I think Kamala Harris placed an order for that specific smile from the warehouse of the Divine on her way to this dimension. The girl who didn’t dance was Ngozi Elemele; daughter of Chief Samuel Elemele, a devout Christian, business man and highly patriotic Ogba man from Obite. Ngozi’s refusal (or was it inability?) to dance made us tease her that she has “two left legs” hence she couldn’t move them to the pulsating and compulsive rhythm of pop music. She just kept on smiling and that was an impregnable armor against our social arrows.

That calmness under relentless peer pressure earned her the moniker “Nwanjinwa” (Girl Nextdoor) amongst us; it contrasted with “Okoronwangbogbo”(prodigal son), which the vicar at St. Michael’s tagged me as he de-robed me from the choir. Those were the heady days of our lives. In 2024, a social commentator subjected the youths of Ogba/Egbema of that era to a critique. He observed that, irrespective of their youthful exuberance with a dose of mischief, that generation of Ogba/Egbema youths effectively took advantage of the ample educational opportunities provided by government immediately after the civil war. Also, he noted that that party produced four medical doctors, two lawyers, one architect, two general managers of parastatals, two chairmen of local government, three permanent secretaries, one head of service, three professors, and a deputy governor.

Concluding the analysis, the critic held that while many in the group held more than one position in the categorization, Ngozi Elemele, the girl who didn’t dance, held more top level public positions than the rest. She was Permanent Secretary, Commissioner, became Professor and is now Deputy Governor. Today, the Obite girl who didn’t dance at the party in 1968 is gracefully and elegantly waltzing at the center stage of Rivers State politics as Her Excellency, Prof Mrs. Ngozi Nma Odu DSSRS, the Deputy Governor of Rivers State. Her excellent performance in public office is a product of decades of fierce focus on the future, dedication and devotion to duty, resolute resilience, humility and simplicity; years spent climbing the arduous ladder of mainstream bureaucracy from Grade Level 08 to the apex of the pyramid, serving as Commissioner and thereafter venturing into the intellectually challenging trajectory of academics and also peaking at the apex of professorship and, eventually, clenching the coveted position of Deputy Governor of Rivers State.

Naturally, I was very delighted and humbled by the honor and privilege of being chairman of the occasion where Akabuka Community honored Her Excellency with a grand reception on October 25, 2025. It was very gratifying that her boss, His Excellency Sir Siminalaye Fubara GSSRS, supportively graced the occasion as Special Guest of Honor, a reflection of humility and simplicity in high profile office, which is uncommon in our society. Who says focus, determination, drive and hard work do not pay? They did then; they do now and they always will. Are the youths of today listening? “He that hath ears to hear, let him hear” (Matthew 11:15).

Akparikolamo!!!

By: Jason Osai