By Mike Nzeagwu
It was serendipity. Or pure happenstance. Or a case of being at the right place at the right
time. I had called Ras Kimono on the intercom to discuss the itinerary for artistes’ media
interviews as part of the communication plan to sustain the buzz for the Benson & Hedges
Golden Tones Concert. Rather than discuss over the intercom, Kimono invited me to his room.
Dateline Kano May 1997 at Tropicana Hotel. The ancient city was hosting the hugely successful
and unarguably the best outdoor music concert in Nigeria during the 90s. A-List artistes were
on the bill, majority Lagos based.
A tap on the door and without hesitating , I swung the door open and gently closed it behind
me. Kimono was seated on the sofa in the room with his famed dreadlock neatly tucked into a
handmade cap in Rastafarian colours of yellow, red and green. Sitting on the edge of the bed
was a very handsome dark complexioned man. He was tall and I remembered he had a
strikingly sensuous red lips. “Bis, this is Mike, the Media Manager for Golden Tones. Mike this is
Bis,” Kimono said in a brief introduction. It did not register immediately. But it eventually did.
Bis? This is me face-to-face with Bisade Ologunde, aka Lagbaja, the masked musician that had
captured the imagination of many a music lover with his genre of music. Lagbaja, the rave of
the moment. Seeing him “naked” as it were on a platter of gold. No mask. No trademark
costume that literarily swallowed his giant frame.
I discussed the media interview schedule with both artistes including transport logistics to the
radio and TV stations and left them to continue their discussion.
That was the period Kimono was on top of his music career churning out hits after hits. No
wonder he was a permanent feature in all the Golden Tones concerts for the four or five years
that it lasted, playing in the two major concerts schedule every year. On stage, Kim, as he was
fondly called by his close friends was effervescent. He danced like one possessed by music
demons. He was the artiste everyone waited patiently to watch in the wee hours of the
morning when some other artistes would have played. Outside the stage, Kimono was calm and
cool. He was deliberate in speech and conversation.
But the Kano encounter was not my first with Kimono. Neither was it on the platform of Golden
Tones. I had covered and reported him extensively as a young reporter with Lagos Life, a
weekly entertainment newspaper on the stable of The Guardian Newspapers which has since
been rested. It was the Golden Tones Concert that brought us closer especially once he realised
I was his “brother” from Aniocha in Delta State. As Okeleke Onwubuya (his real name) we
spoke the language occasionally especially when I visit his home then in Omole Estate Phase
one, Ojodu where his house was next to Femi Kuti’s. Then means of communication was
almost 100% face-to-face in the pre-GSM era. Those that were privileged to have the NITEL
analog line had to contend with the epileptic performance.
Kimono’s wife Sybil (we all called her sister Sybil) who was working with the Nigerian Navy then
was warm and accommodating.
At a time Kimono’s family relocated to the United States with him doing the shuttle between
America and Nigeria. But he eventually joined his family in the United States. But even then his
music was still enjoying considerable airplay in many radio stations and still moved bodies and
heads especially among the ‘old school.’
Since he came back to Nigeria, two or three years ago, I had seen him during TV interviews and
on red carpets of some music / entertainment events. But I was looking forward to connecting
with him again when the news broke in the social media last Sunday Kimono was dead.
Driving from Okota to Ikeja in Lagos, the steering flew out of my hand. I let out a scream like
someone who had seen a ghost. The rub-a-dub master was gone. Just few weeks after his 60 th
birthday.
Kimono’s music like most reggae artistes was revolutionary. There was a theme and message to
his music. He sang against injustice, oppression and railed against bad governments that
whimsically deny the people basic things of life such as water, light and “food in dem belly.” His
voice was unique, a golden tone now silenced in death. But Kimono’s legacies live on. Adieu Ras
Kimono, the son of Jah.
