What better time to out this person before he grows old and grey and before his racouse dreadlocks give way to a balding plate that would be receiving robust knocks on a daily.
I had heard his story but didn’t know him. It was Prof Yerima who brought him to my house and under the tree, I watched him very closely
His red eyes were tired. He was handsome in some unique Yoruba way but you could also see that he was a spirit.
Driven by whatever he had taken that morning, he was floating. They said he was an Adulterer with a penchant for taking peoples wives but I never believed he would dare me
I had been warned. I looked at him. His scraggy bowlegs, unkempt beards and a penchant for not taking his bath. Little did I know that he would try my wife.
I said to him, ‘ segun i want you to direct a play for me ‘ he smiled and said Oya. I said it is not normal. play. it will be a series of my rants.
He had been collating the rants and had sent me a collection and I said oya let’s call it ‘ the Duke has gone mad again’
Rehearsals started and I watched him work. He was different. He was not a Prof Yerima who was studious in approach he was not William Benson who was bullish and aggressive in approach. He was definitely not Makinde whose tutorial approach was a marvel to behold
His was subtle. Weed driven and eclectic in approach. I loved the smooth flow of his approach. He floated with the story and u saw the story and watched him glide on the story in a haze of smoke and talking things only spirits like himself will understand
Then he called. Duke, there is a problem I said tell me. Duchess has submitted a scene and she finishes you. Chantal has also submitted a scene and killed u. Did you write both? I said No.
I said send it. Duchess had called me all the black names an angry woman with a man like Duke as the father of her children could muster
Chantal took the icing. She called her father, ‘ self-absorbed angry Ibibio man.
The play is about me. My life. Erelu’s passing. It was an opening of my life in an unprecedented manner and I didn’t want anything kept under the closet.
Segun was worried. Do u think you really want this? This is too much he said. I first thought it was you who wrote Chantal’s piece, this is raw he intoned.
I said Segun this is why u are d director. Go do your work.
Now Segun’swork was complex. He had to direct a play with the Duchess as Co-Executive Producer and her daughter as a lead actress while serenading the main Sponsor’s other half who had just passed.
I knew the fire I had thrown Segun into and I said, I don’t care what you do u must bury Erelu in this play complete with the purple rain song.
Segun set about seducing Duchess. You know he is a well-known Adulterer. He started flirting with the duchess knowing fully well that he could only achieve this task by getting her on his side
He said, ‘ this your scene will open the play. It will strongly position you as the arrowhead. Go write the scene. Make it punchier and I’ll get a strong actress to deliver the lines.
The Adulterer had won as he got the Duchess in bed with him. Kemi Bickersteth delivered the lines with venom, I quaked on my seat and grabbed my brother Mudi for support.
I am Mofoluwake Oriyomi the one they call the Duchess….Kemi screamed to the elitist audience at the N2m per day open Garden in Ikoyi.
Then Chantal strutted out like a gazzelle. Is Segun also going to take my daughter? My favourite, oh my God. Segun had taken both mother and daughter. Chantal revelled in his abuse of her father, ‘ you don’t know the one they call the Duke. I know him the loud ibibio man…..
By this time I was in tears. Segun in an adulterous fit had emptied my bowels. He had taken my wife and daughter and threw them into the tempestuous garden of Sodom engaging in a wild romp of incestuous threesome all on my shattered balls.
Then he dropped it. The scene. Erelu was being lowered in her grave 4 dukes came out and spoke. The words tearing into the audience as the pain of letting go was being shared amongst the seated
Segun is a maestro. He delivered the pain equally and hid by the stage with a mischievous grin and cheap shoes smiling as the pain he was sending to these arrogant mob who had laid N200k per table to come to see this tragedy tore into their aje butter souls.
Segun is a maestro, an adulterous one and one soul I connect with.
I love him to death and always look forward to his engagement be it on the supremacy of Orunmila or the strong Yoruba beliefs which rules his existence. He remains a gadfly.
Let me wish him a happy birthday today and long life and prosperity.
Great guy. Never cut the hair.
Duke of Shomolu