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KOFFI The Comedian On Life @ 40
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Excerpts From His New Book, Beauty Of The Beast
A few weeks back, popular comedian, Koffi turned 40. To mark his birthday, he wrote his autobiography in which he revealed his life in comedy. Whenever people hear his name, they take him for a Ghanaian. But interestingly he is not. According to Koffi, in his autobiography, “I was born Suleiman Ayinde Koffi Emmanuel, on a Friday precisely, 11th March 1977 in one of the lowest ends of existence, as at the time. A slummy dwelling, way below sea level that it had to be demolished because it became too much of an eyesore to the government, as it was too close to the high end sophisticated big man Victoria island.
Maroko was a sandfilled swamp, initially built as a makeshift housing establishment but soon became a favourite dwelling for a lot of the common men who came to Lagos in search of the Golden Fleece. My grandfather Sowou-Folie, later Johnson-Folly was one of such green pasture settlers. A Togolese immigrant who started his Lagos hustle from Lafiaji area as a Washman before moving his large family of I I children, which included 2 sets of twins.
My earliest memory of being a human being was running around my grandma’s Ewa Agoyin pots and dundun and Akara table at night. Iya beji or Ndha as she was fondly called, I heard, spoilt me silly with beans. My dad’s family had also migrated from Benin with relations to Late Sonny Okosun (so I heard). Maroko was an all comers affair and lIado was where my parents developed their love life. The acronym for my name, S.A.K.E ironically was the pet name my parents called each other as love birds as both of them were Idowu (the child born after a set of twins) hence the decision to use that as my sum rather than the compound family name Raimi or Raheem as it suits modern adaptations.
I was born at dusk in a very traditional place by Baba Onikoyi and his midwives in the Ikoyi axis, Maroko without much stress. *Mama pushed me into this wonderful world just a few weeks after her 17th birthday. The circumstances of my conception are a secret, I think my mum deserves to carry to her grave. However their union didn’t last. I heard grandma came back from Togo on a trip with a broom gift, after several warnings that she didn’t want her daughter to marry a Yoruba man. All they did was sweep their room the next morning and all hell broke loose. My aunt Veronica Taiye of blessed memory would testify to me that upon arrival at the police station after the fight my dad asked for custody and my mum said over her dead body except if they would share the baby into two equal halves. That was the second battle my dad lost in one day. Loosing out both his loved ones in less than 24 hours.
I am the first son and only child of their union. Life later bestowed upon me 3 siblings from my step dad and 22 from my dad’s 4 wives. Yes he was a Civil servant working with NEPA so had enough lightning to give.
SCAR-FACE
One of the most frequently asked questions I have had to contend with is where in Ghana am I from. I have had to defend that my Koffi spelt with a double “F” is not linked to Ghana but rather my mum is from Togo to which I get the part 2 to the FAQ. SO, why the mark on your face? It is rather impossible to tell everyone you run into every blessed day the same symbolic story of what makes you stand-out from the rest of your peers besides your talent. I hope my questioneers get to come across this explanation and stop crossing me into other West African territories henceforth.
My aunt, that is my father’s elder sister, decided to give me these marks, similar to the one on my mum’s face except bigger in response to a feud between them. It was simply to show her “pepper”. However this was done under the guise of spiritual fortification because I was ill at the time. My mum had gone to work and the face tearing act was quickly carried out before she returned. The rape of an innocent child’s face hurt her so much she didn’t speak to family members for a long time. I look at that aunt with so much love now because she marked me out for the future, according to the plans of God. “What is the name of that comedian with mark on his face?” There is no better ID card than that, I did it before my friend DJ Sose, sorry my aunt did it before tattoos became the vogue.
BARIGA BREED
After my first 10 years in Maroko, we moved to Bariga, on a Tuesday night in December 1987. I remember vividly because we were stuck in Third Mainland/ Adekunle traffic at the time we were supposed to be watching ‘New Masquerade’. We arrived a very dark environment and had to pass the night in a sparse sitting room on cold tiles with a candle for company. I loved the new place instantly. This is the first time I would be living in such a huge space. When I look back now I laugh at myself for it was a far cry from my 2 room existence in Maroko but since I was going to have a room to myself and my siblings and of course our maid, this was heaven.
Bariga was a new ball game altogether. We occupied a 3 bedroom apartment at No.60 Olatunji off lIaje road in a building that was one out of 3 outstanding buildings on the whole street. We had arrived!
Blending in wasn’t so hard. I made new friends quickly especially since my ‘Lesson’ was at the uncompleted building at the back of our house and almost every kid in the neighbourhood came there to improve on what their school teachers didn’t finish.
I recall trying to play football on the street with the kids from ‘Moshalasi’ at No. I and their mothers quickly withdrew them from the game, stating that they wouldn’t be able to afford the hospital bills incase they injured me. This was based on the assumption that I was a ‘butty’.
I laughed out loud because a few weeks later I was standing in front of their house to buy ‘Ogi’ and later in the day to buy ‘Eko’. Truth be told though, I had a solid home set up, a blackboard and a private lesson teacher came to give me private lessons some days in the week.
I went crab hunting at some point with the fabricated beverage tin crab trap with a wooden lid held with rubber and onion hook. I didn’t pursue this passion for long however based on the memory I had of my mum’s beatings from my days in Maroko when I had gone fishing in the lagoon and brought some Tilapia’s home. I had been made to almost swallow them raw. The only time I got away with mischief was when I went masquerading with the boys with our local ‘kareta’ and ‘Epo’ calabar dance around town. I made 15 kobo after breaking bread with the boys. My mum looked the other way upon sighting that change. She has been keeping that money for me since 1985.
Bariga made a family man off me. It was in this period I learnt to take care of the family. My siblings had to be catered for. Bathing them, washing their clothes, I did all general house chores. Washing clothes wasn’t a favourite ordeal. I would go to the ‘Odo Eran’ market, get back and cook whole meals including Amala, Semo and the likes. Sunday was yam pounding day in a thick mortar way before poundo yam flour was discovered. Yes, I Koffi Idowu-Nuel pounded yam physically and grinded pepper on the stones with bare hands. As against the belief that Bariga kids turned out to be ‘street’ I can confidently say I was raised in Bariga and I enjoyed the streets but it never became a part of me because my parents made it a point of duty to raise their children right despite their differences. They made the sacrifice. In fact the first time I ever met King Sunny Ade was on Ajileye Street in Bariga. He was strolling to get a cab at Adeboye junction. No airs, no ego. I never knew someday I would turn out to be a celebrity but that humble simple nature from a great man who owned 2 magnificent buildings on the street and the only person with a horse yet stooped to greet a young fan informed my “humbility” till date. lIaje Bariga was fun but the tides of life swept me to the hardcore end of Bariga, a rather rough existence close to the centre breeding ground of the street urchins.
JAKANDE, LEKKI BEACH
Jakande Estate lIasan was instrumental in this journey. I would take my weekend and long break to hibernate here and mingle with my folks, cousins and new found friends.
I soon ran into my childhood friend, Bolanle and sister Yomi whose crib I would crash in Ibadan years later upon arrival in town from Iyan Ekiti on a late night bus and almost got stranded. Their mum was bestie’s with my mum way back and we had both attended ADRAO Nursery school.
Lekki beach just behind the estate was my place of solace. I would go there to read, and chill. Learn to climb the coconut palm and pluck some. I also took horse riding lessons from my cousin Laja. Sometimes my half brother Segun would come home with one of such horses belonging to ‘Commander’, an older cousin and I would ride it to the Silverbird studio premises under construction at the time.
SCHOOL TINZ
Education for me was a lot done by the sacrifice of my mother because as I recall vividly, neither of my 2 fathers ever stepped foot in Ijebu Igbo for the 5 years I was there. I started at ADRAO Nursery school, then off to Kuramo primary school as one of the foundation laying students. I struggled a lot with my studies. I was quite playful, always coasting between positions 13 and 17, until I was threatened by my Dad, that if I didn’t try hard enough to be in the first ten positions before leaving primary school then there was no point going to waste my time in a secondary school. Lo and behold for the first time in the history of mankind I got the 9th position, that term though he still complained about the red marks in my report card in the area of mathematics.
I was quite popular in Kuramo, as a naughty jovial friendly boy. Not one fight was recorded against my name all through.
I was later shipped off to Ijebu Igbo in Ogun State. I recall when my mum and I first took a trip and as our cab was climbing the elevation into the town. Around Abusi, the school I would end up at by mistake. The trip was so long for me at eleven. I thought we had gotten outside Nigeria. Seeing the red soil and old structures I asked her ignorantly if we were arriving Togo to see grandma. I had been brought for my common entrance exam. We were accommodated by the Adebiyi’s. Pa Gilbert Aderibigbe Adebiyi, would later be my custodian and guardian for the next few years.
The examination went very well on a Saturday morning except for the errors I made filling in my schools of choice. I had been instructed to fill in Molusi college as my first choice and, I bungled it. All I had in my head was Methodist Boys High School and St.Gregory’s College. As fate would have it Abusi Odumare was the examination centre, so I remembered to fill that in but I totally blacked out on Molusi. 1 heard someone mention Sopen Comprehensive High School, so I filled that in as second. Thank God I didn’t end up there. I got admitted into Abusi with the promise that I would spend just a term of three months to rectify my errors and get me into Molusi. I ended up spending a year. However it turned out to be a great year filled with wonderful experiences of dust, ijebuness, St. Thomas African Church where Baba was the “Baba ljo”, Lads and Lasses “gbokos” culture, mango tree climbing professionalism e.t.c.
It took a while to settle us into our individual classes so we were all put in the school main auditorium for weeks. I stood out as the eloquent lad from Lagos after I had an encounter with Titi and Kofoworola Kassim, cousins and daughters of the prominent industrialists who owned Shokas Lace industry. They were the butty’s that every kid in the hood feared to near then.
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