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Author: Tope Adeboboye
Posted to the web: 8/10/2006 8:40:27 PM

A day with Olusesan Ekisola   pioneer GM, Raypower

By Tope Adeboboye

 

“Would you like to listen to the radio,” he asks, his right hand stroking the mouse, his face fixed on the flat screen. Listen to the radio? You are still exploring how best to courteously reject his offer when you are suddenly jolted by a familiar Islamic chant, the type that proceeds from Lagos mosques at about dinner time. A male voice then summons the faithful, in undiluted Yoruba, to the evening prayer. Then without warning, a burst of Yinka Ayefele’s music suddenly blasts into the room, spewing forth from somewhere around the computer, forcing your head to commence an unwitting but rhythmic nod, agama-style, to the clattering percussion. And then, that familiar refrain: Radio Lagos-i, tiwantiwa amitiiti, rings out as the World Wide Web brings Radio Lagos, loud and clear, live into this office deep inside America’s Midwest.

Olusesan Ekisola. Remember the name? Of course you do. Who wouldn’t remember the veteran broadcaster whose scintillating voice once resonated through the airwaves, dazzling millions of ears from the studios of Radio Nigeria Ibadan, OGBC 2, Abeokuta and Ray Power F.M. in Lagos? How could you forget the pioneer boss of Ray Power FM, whose voice boomed out of your radio, announcing the birth of Nigeria’s first independent radio station, ending government’s long monopoly of the airwaves?

It’s been a decade and a year now since Ekisola’s voice ceased to captivate radio listeners. In late 1995, he had quit his job as the first General Manager of Ray Power 100.5 F.M., and the following year, relocated to the United States. And since then, the rumour mill has been up and busy, spinning various tales, from the probable to the implausible, casting the Ijebu-Ode-born born communicator in a tinted garb of motley hues.

After months of futile search, this reporter had early in July stumbled upon Ekisola’s phone number. A quick call would later earn him an invitation to the broadcaster’s house in the city of Rogers, a serene, sleepy suburb of Minneapolis in Minnesota

The meeting was set for midday. But at 12.30, you are still navigating the roads, lost in the confusing labyrinth of streets and side roads dotting the whole neighbourhood. A particularly winding county road suddenly curves into an intersection, metamorphoses into a narrow, forlorn lane, and after a long drive, swerves abruptly into a dead end in the middle of nowhere. Flanked on every side by thick bushes and a somber silence only interrupted occasionally by the sad chirrup of a lonesome bird, you suddenly realize that you might be getting lost. A little petrified, you frantically fish out your phone and listen as you are led back to civilization by your broadcaster-host.

This sunny summer Tuesday in Rogers, a placid air pervades the atmosphere. On both sides of the road, newly built houses with luxuriant lawns bewitch your eyes. In front of one such house on Jasmine Way, the broadcaster waits, sporting a sporty white vest and shorts, a black, Menards-branded baseball cap sitting on his clean-shaven head. He’s on the phone, a black Motorola V Razr snuggling against his left ear while the right hand gesticulates, swaying up and down, left and right. As you step out of the car, he hangs up, embraces you like a long-sought sibling and leads you into his home and then into his home office, while his young daughter, Feyintoluwa, watches with some amusement.

You can hardly wear a frown in the presence of this vivacious gentleman. “I hope you don’t mind that this office looks rough,” he says jocularly, his right hand making one wide sweep across the room. “That is deliberate. They say if your office is neat and tidy, it is the sign of a sick mind! So I try to keep these papers scattered around. It is just to show you how hard-working I am!”

Ekisola’s office is compact, yet cute, tucked somewhere in the left corner of the exquisite living room. A little white fridge sits by the corner to your right. Behind the crowded table, a huge shelf sheltering an assorted collection of books stands imposingly.

From the walls, several frames shielding sundry pictures gaze at you. There are dozens more beside the computer, inside a big album. You see those featuring him and his family, one of him in a handshake with King Sunny Ade, another with his former boss, Dr Raymond Dokpesi. There are photographs of him with then Lagos State military administrator, (now Osun State governor), Prince Olagunsoye Oyinlola. There are others showing him with Fuji star, Adewale Ayuba, with the late Toba Opaleye and Gbenga Adeboye, with Dr Sikiru Ayinde Barrister. There’s a large photograph of him and Miliki megastar turned man of God, Evangelist Ebenezer Obey. And dozens more in this big black album loaded with various images of the past and the present.

The broadcaster surveys Obey’s picture and sighs. “When I am feeling very low, and I listen to any of Obey’s albums, I become transformed immediately. That man is not just a musician. He’s a prophet.”

Early days

For the man who began an exciting career in broadcasting as a station manager in 1973, journalism has for long been a family passion. “My mum is a journalist,” he tells you. “As Lara Morel, she worked with the then Daily Service, the Daily Times at its Kakawa facilities, and she was editor of Woman’s World. My late uncle, Chief Bisi Onabanjo, former governor of Ogun State, was a journalist. So that might give you an idea of where I was coming from.”

Ekisola developed an interest in broadcasting early in life. He remembers with some nostalgia how in his elementary days he used to read to himself, mimicking the voices of popular on-air personalities of that era.

Ibadan

Eventually, the decision to become a broadcaster wasn’t without some pecuniary motive. Hear him: “I remember that my mum came back from France in 1973, and decided she wasn’t going to stay in the rough and tumble of Lagos. She wanted a quiet place. So she went to Ibadan and ended up at Radio Nigeria, Ibadan where she began presenting a woman’s programme, Homemakers. After my school days, I began work in one of the Federal ministries while my mum was in France. But the pay wasn’t too fantastic. I also wanted to work in the bank, but I couldn’t get in there, even though I had good grades and all that. But then, radio was also paying good salary. That was how I became a studio manager at Radio Nigeria, Ibadan where I met the likes of Yanju Adegbite, where we worked under the late Chief Ishola Folorunsho our then State Controller.”

Another great name he became acquainted with in Ibadan is that world renowned Nigerian writer, the late Amos Tutuola, who earned global acclaim with his classic, The Palmwine Drinkard .

“There are other great names in Radio Nigeria at that time. Some of these included Wale Falope, Araba Vincent, Kehinde Okusanya, Mrs. Sola Longe Oyetunde, Chief Adisa Balogun, Ms. Sola Stavely, Alhaja Bisi Kasumu, Kayode Oni, Tolu Fatoyinbo (Ta-Fat), Mathew Oyibo, Oyewole Olowomojuore, the highly talented Agboade Okedeji – a Yoruba news translator, Alhaji Egberoungbe in Department of Religion, Lekan Ladele in Drama Department and so many more,” he says.

What was the feeling like on his first day on air? “It was wonderful,” he intones. “I remember I recorded it and I would play it back a million times. But after a while, it became a part of you and you wanted more than that. You now started thinking of how to leave something in the hearts of people, something for people to remember you by. Radio Nigeria was a station that instilled discipline in you.”        

After the regions were discarded and new states created, government workers were asked to proceed to their home states. Ekisola had to relocate to Abeokuta, capital of Ogun State, where a new radio station had just been started. Initially, though, it wasn’t a trip he really hungered for.

“Although I’m from Ijebu-Ode, I was a Lagos boy, born and buttered in Lagos. Coming to Ibadan was for a reason. Now leaving Ibadan for a totally new place like Abeokuta was going to be earthshaking. It wasn’t a place I would rather go if I had a choice. In fact, I stayed put in Ibadan, working as a freelance presenter. Then one day in Dugbe, I saw Chief Tunde Elegbede who later became the General Manager of OGBC. He called me and said, ‘Sesan, what’s your problem? They are waiting for you in Abeokuta.’ That was how I left.”

Abeokuta

Once in Abeokuta, Ekisola discovered that though the ancient rocky refuge of the Egba people wore a rustic face, it wasn’t the outmoded, stone-age village he had anticipated. On the contrary, he discovered a city rich in culture and history, full of sophisticated yet hospitable dwellers. And he fell in love. “On the surface, it wasn’t developed, but it was well-developed culturally, and the people were sophisticated. Remember that at a point, the judiciary was dominated by the Egba people.”

As he speaks, the house phone wouldn’t just stop ringing. He picks it up eventually and speaks briefly into the mouthpiece while you sip your mountain dew. He then explains that he’s hosting friends to a barbecue today, and the calls are from those seeking directions. You peep through the window and the weather outside seems blissful. And as if reading your mind, your host suggests that you relocate to the backyard, where the sun mildly shines upon the well nurtured lawns. The plastic chairs form a circle underneath a canopy on the grasses. A bowl of grapes and cherries sit on the floor. And to your right, a couple of youngsters busy themselves playing tennis.

You ask Ekisola, how, as a young presenter, he was able to cope with fame at that time.

“What the people knew was the name, not the face”, he tells you. “And one thing my mum kept emphasizing to me was that fame is good. But that you have to cherish it, defend it and protect it. Don’t just be jumping all over the place because very soon, you will become a nuisance all over town. So I had that at the back of my mind. I could stand in the market and no one would know who I was. And when my late uncle Chief Onabanjo became the Governor and he was trying to set up Ogun State Television, OGTV, he called me and offered me a position. But I told him I would rather stick with radio,” he says, throwing some cherries into his mouth.

 “One thing that gave me away, to some extent, was that I had the only red Volkswagen Beetle in Abeokuta,” he chuckles. “Yes, there was fame all right. My name was everywhere. I had a very popular show. But I wasn’t the only one. There were other great people that I worked with. There were veteran radio and television icons like the late Otunba Yomi Onabolu,  Chief Kunle Olasope, and the late Tunji Marquis of WNTV/WNBS fame, Seun Oyefeso, Willy Thomas, the late Felix Femi Fashina, Femi Sowoolu and many unsung but highly productive colleagues like the late S. Ade Ogunnusi. A lot of these names that you hear now, many of them passed through OGBC. People like John Momoh, Lola Fani-Kayode, Dele Alake, Eugenia Abu, Kenny Ogungbe, Peter Okodua, Segun Shy-shy Shyllon, the late Chief Toba Opaleye and many others.” As he mentions Toba, Ekisola’s voice falters, his cheerful brow wearing a melancholic mien. He shakes his head sadly. “May Toba’s soul rest in peace,” he prays. “Toba is someone who modernized the Yoruba language in a way that was fascinating. His shows were absolutely incredible. I went to see him in the hospital earlier in the year when I went home. He had emaciated so badly. I couldn’t believe that was the same Toba that I used to know. May his soul rest in peace.” Amen, you respond.

It’s amazing how this man can swing from mood to mood with considerable ease. “Abeokuta became my home,” he continues. “Up till now, I haven’t even left Abeokuta because most of my stuff is in Abeokuta. I’m accepted in Abeokuta. In fact, a lot of people believe I’m from Abeokuta. I was at an occasion in Washington DC, and this musician was playing. And as soon as he saw me, he said, Ekisola, their son under the Olumo Rock. So all the Egba high chiefs and the immediate past Alake of Egbaland, they all accepted me as a son.”

OGBC 2 days

Ekisola became head of the newly created OGBC 2 when the F.M. station was carved out of OGBC. “Most of those guys were green at that time. But they took up the challenge. Initially, I was scared. There was Radio Nigeria 2 in Lagos, and then there was Radio Rivers. These were F.M. stations that were all over town at that time. So nobody gave us any chance. But with the dedication of the team, we were able to surpass expectations. Looking back now, I think the location of the station also helped us. Abeokuta was close to all the major cities around, Ibadan, Lagos, Benin. We were able to reach the power brokers.”

Indeed, during the tempestuous days of the June 12 political imbroglio, OGBC 2 became an effective medium for the opposition, eventually resulting in the sealing off of the station by gun-toting policemen sent by then dictator, General Ibrahim Babangida. Reflecting on those turbulent times, Ekisola says the fact that the central figure, late Bashorun MKO Abiola was an Ogun State indigene probably gave an emotional tinge to the June 12 affair. “There was a tremendous emotional attachment to Abiola being a son of the soil. If it was another radio station, maybe nobody would have paid us any attention.”

Looking back, Ekisola says working at OGBC was fun. “We were committed to its success. There were days we would stay in the studio all night. Some times, my wife used to bring my food at 2:00 am. But we didn’t regard it as work. We were simply having fun. And Ogun State radio became a household name all over Nigeria”

Power of the radio

To the gangling man of words, the temporary closure of OGBC 2 was quite unexpected. “But you know the elite were used to seeing the radio operate in a particular way, which is doing the bidding of the government of the day. The newspapers earned their freedom being combative, right from the colonial days. And again, you have to be able to read in order for you to benefit from any information contained in newspapers. Radio doesn’t require that. So because of the awesome power of the radio, the British refused to have private radio in any of their colonies. And that situation persisted until Babangida came to break the jinx. To start a radio, all we need is little equipment and from where we are sitting now, we will be broadcasting to all the corners of the earth. Television requires much more human and material resources.”

Ekisola later quit his job at OGBC to become the pioneer GM of Ray Power radio, a brainchild of wealthy businessman, Dr Raymond Dokpesi who he met through Kenny Ogungbe.

“Kenny is Chief Dokpesi’s brother in-law. Kenny and I have been very close for a long time. When Kenny was living in the US, whenever he came to Nigeria, within 24 hours, he would be in Abeokuta to see me. Kenny is also part of the OGBC story. Even at that time, Kenny loved music so much, so I’m not surprised that he later set up Kennis music. As I said, when you love doing something, you no longer regard that thing as work. It becomes fun. So, there’s been some rumour that Babangida was trying to open up the space to allow private radio. And I think Kenny has been talking to Chief Dokpesi about it. So I was in Abeokuta when Kenny came to see me. He said, egbon, that thing we’ve been talking about, I think we will start soon. So come and meet Dr Raymond. I met Dr Dokpesi, we discussed and I went back to Abeokuta and got my people together. We wanted to do what no radio station had done before. We started brainstorming realizing that no radio station was running 24 hours. So I told him, Chairman, can we get a transmitter to run 24 hours? And he said, sure. That was how Ray Power started.”

Which of those places would he consider the most challenging? “Ray Power”, he promptly replies, dropping a grape into his mouth. “In fact, of all the places where I worked, it was the most challenging. When we started Ray Power, I think a lot of people did not expect us to survive. They were just waiting to see what would happen.”

Indeed, not long after the radio started, something did happen. Late dictator, General Sani Abacha had the station shut down for some time, dubbing it “illegal”. The management was however able to resolve the matter and the radio station came back on eight months later.

According to Ekisola, the team was passionately committed to the success of Ray Power. “We all carried blocks, including Dr. Dokpesi. Yes, this may surprise you. But Dr Dokpesi actually carried blocks. He is an unusual person. Having worked closely with him, I know he’s a visionary. An intuitive person. He has foresight. He saw the opportunity and took it. I learnt a lot working with him. And I don’t think it’s the money. I don’t think he’s making that much money from the place. So, at that time, all through the night, we would be there with those contractors doing the construction. We were passionate about the place. It was the first of its kind in Nigeria and we all regarded it as our baby. But you have to give Dokpesi the credit. If we have many Nigerians thinking like him, the country will start witnessing a big transformation.”

If Ekisola is this fond of Dokpesi, you wonder why he eventually dumped Ray Power. He pauses for a while, gazing at a place far beyond the present, a distant look on his face. From the barbecue grill where his two sons, Fela and Feyisola, tend the meat, a thick smoke curls up and evaporates into space as the pungent smell of roast beef assails the nose.

“At that point I had to leave Ray Power”, he says eventually. “At the time, I realized that certain things were not going as I thought. But we have since put all that behind us. We are very close now” he pauses a little. “Well, with the benefit of hindsight, now, at that time maybe I was just a little impatient and might have responded poorly. Maybe all that was needed was just for both of us to sit down and talk.”

Any regrets then? “Oh no! No regrets at all. If I had stayed, who knows what would have happened? Maybe I would have been dead by now. No, there are no regrets. I believe that I left Ray Power when it was time for me to leave.” And waxing philosophical, he adds: “For everybody in life, at some point, a man gets to his bus stop. And when you get to your bus stop, you have to leave.”

Thoughts on Nigerian media

Ekisola doesn’t anticipate much camaraderie between the Nigerian elite and the press in the foreseeable future. “As long as you have a good story, the press will always step on somebody’s toes. And the elite will be irritated”. But he says the situation is getting better now than in his days as a broadcaster. He also believes there’s press freedom in Nigeria to a reasonable extent. “We used to think the American press is free. But when you come here and listen to sanitized news, the news that they want you to hear, then you will discover the press is not as truly free as you had imagined.”

From the doorway, Ekisola’s wife, Adenike, who he introduces as “your fellow Ekiti-kete, a former high school vice Principal in Abeokuta, now a registered nurse”, beckons to the broadcaster to wrap up the discussion, as more guests arrive. He studies his watch and nods, his looks telling you to hurry up.

Some label the Nigerian press as “too combative”. Would he agree? “If they say the press is too combative, have they sat down to look at the circumstances of its birth? The Nigerian press was born as an insurgent, and that is how it’s going to be. And indeed, the press is not combative. But you see, when you see somebody holding a red cup, and you are told not to say it, then you will want to ask, why shouldn’t I say it?”

How would he react to the sedition charges slammed on two reporters by the federal government? “I have been reading the news, but I don’t really know the details. I believe the government is just trying to flex some muscles. I believe they will do away with that case at the right time.”

Life in America

In the last ten years, Ekisola has resided in the States. Did he just get tired of Nigeria? “Oh no,” he replies. “I first came here as a guest of the American government. I was taken around to see how broadcasting is organized here. I visited several radio and television stations and discussed with the stakeholders. Then I went back home. But then, we found out that it was not too safe for me. So the United States government gave me a waiver and allowed me to come back.”

And how has he fared since? The veteran broadcaster hesitates a little, shakes his head and smiles softly.

“You know the regular Nigerian thinks that America is God’s own country. So you think you will get here and start picking the dollar bills off the sidewalks. That never happened. When I came the first time, I was paid for travelling around. So I had thought it was going to continue like that. But no, it didn’t. I was on my own. Then little by little, things started falling into place. Yes, I walked through the valley of the shadow of death.”

Valley of the shadow of death

Things might be looking up now for the broadcaster. But initially, things weren’t particularly smooth. “When I came back, I called somebody and said; hey I would like to set up a radio station. And he said, are you a citizen? I said no. Then he said that’s not possible. You need to be a citizen first. So,before things started getting better, I did everything here. I drove cabs. I waited tables. I worked in factories. I did everything. Coming from Nigeria, you expected to be given some treatment. You thought all you had to do was call some people, then go and take up a job in some respectable office. That is never going to happen. So that was why I was going to set up a radio station, to explain to people back home. The last time I went, I still told them. I went early this year and spent three months. Before you can settle down here and be living from hand to mouth, you need at least three years. Then before you can be reckoned with in terms of money, you must have spent like eight fruitful years during which you must know what you are doing. If you don’t know what you are doing, then your sentence will be longer. And if you think you are very smart and you want to take the short cut, you will end up in jail. You see, what the authorities here have is time. They give you plenty of time. There was a Nigerian who went to school here, graduated and became an architect. He had a nice office in New York working with the city, apart from his own private business. Then he got into bad company and started selling drugs. These people followed him to Asia; got all the information they needed and followed him back to the United States. Right now, he’s serving thirty years to life.” He pauses.

“The reason why our people keep having these fantasies about America is because the American government spends billions of dollars to project their country as the ultimate paradise on earth. But when you get here, you discover that what you’ve been seeing on your TV back home is not the real America. People don’t tell the truth. But I’m not ashamed to say this is what I’ve gone through, as long as people learn something from it.”

No longer in the valley

But now, Ekisola has undergone tremendous transformation, away from those dry days in America’s wilderness, setting up his own business outfit and veering into the real estate sector. “We are managing,” he concurs, a little smile playing on his face. “Now I sell houses. I help people to buy and sell houses. Nigerians who want to purchase houses here can rely on me to discreetly do the necessary paperwork and make sure they get a good deal.”

How true are the stories flying around that he’s planning to float a magazine? “Very true,” he says. “We’ve tried a few things. We tried to set up a radio station, we’ve tried to do a TV show. But these things are not as easy as one had thought. We also planned to start a magazine. Now, when we sat down and looked at some of the issues involved, we decided on doing a newspaper first to gauge the response. Then we can go on to bigger things. We plan to cover four continents, South America, North America, Europe and Africa. We are trying on these things and see how they go.”

Please, stay home

Ekisola sure possesses a gregarious spirit, but he’s also blessed with a blunt tongue. Ask him to offer some advice to Nigerians with a good career back home but who are desperate on seeking better opportunities abroad and his counsel might shock you. “I will just tell them, stay at home”, he says. “People are not likely to take my advice. They will say this man is selfish. I have a nephew who was trying to come here. Before he came, I went to Nigeria to meet him. I told him, everything you’ve been seeing on the TV, it’s not going to happen. He didn’t believe me. When he got here, he expected the dollar bills to start flying. He was shocked. So if you have a good career back home and an opportunity to advance, my advice is, don’t abandon all that for the unknown. Please stay home.” And with that he stands up and walks briskly into the house, leaving a throng of thoughts rioting in the reporter’s mind.