pidgin English lyrics, and between 1972 and 1974 the group began making extensive tours of West Africa. It was in 1975 that Fela Africanized his name by removing the colonial “Ransome” from his surname Ransome-Kuti and substituting it with “Anikulapo,” which means “he who holds death in his pocket or pouch.”
2
JOE MENSAH REMEMBERS
The late Joe Mensah was a pioneering Ghanaian highlife singer who released eleven albums and several singles. He began his musical career with the Broadway Dance Band in the 1950s. This was against his parents’ wishes, so as a teenager he left Ghana for Lagos in 1958, where he joined Chief Billy Friday’s Downbeat Highlife Band. It was then that Joe became a close friend of the young Fela, just before Joe went to further his studies in London. Joe returned home three years later and rejoined Broadway, renamed Uhuru, in 1963. In the same year he recorded his famous “Uhuru Special” (with “Bosoe” on the flip side) in Lagos with the Uhuru members under the name Big Beats. In 1964 he left for the United States to study civil engineering and pursue his musical career. However, he made many trips to West Africa, and in the early 1970s, with the help of Fela’s horn section, he recorded in Lagos with the Ghanaian band Sweet Talks. He returned to Ghana in 1992, becoming president of the musicians’ union of Ghana. Sadly, Joe died in 2002 after a short illness. This interview was recorded at the MUSIGA offices on September 2, 1998.
Tell me how you first got to know Fela.
We [a group of Ghanaian musicians] got to Lagos in early 1958 to join the Downbeats that resided at a nightclub called Nat’s Club de Paris at 80 Ojuelegbe Road in Surulere. It was not far from Fela’s home as he was staying with his mother at the family house [working as a clerk with the Ministry of Commerce]. We played at the club about four times a week, and one evening, I think it was a Sunday, we played our usual gig. At the end of one of the songs I sang I saw somebody come on stage, put his head between my legs and carry me on his shoulders. He took me through the audience and was saying to the crowd: “You people, have you heard any voice as great as this one? And you just sit down and don’t show any appreciation.” So people began throwing money to us on the floor. After he put me back on stage he collected all the money and brought it to the band. That was Fela!
From that day on my day would never be complete if I didn’t see him and he would not go out without seeing me. We became very close even though he was about twenty years old and quite a few years older than me. I would spend a lot of time at his house, but I never met his mother until one day I went there and she was washing clothes.
Fela had told his mother a lot about me and she said that how is it possible that I look so much like her children. Like we’re related. She also said that I’m too young for my mother to have allowed me to leave Ghana and stay in Nigeria, so from that time I should consider her my mother, call her “Ma,” and when I need consolation, food, or whatever, I should always go there.
Fela and I used to hang around in the night and roamed the whole of Lagos. You know it was then a very peaceful place and we used to walk to the Marina from Surulere. We were so free. We bought food from the women who cook on the roadside and we visited friends. We walked over Carter Bridge to go into Lagos [Island] itself to get to the Marina and the real ghettos around the lagoons where the people were so friendly. Even the traffic in Lagos was exciting as it was then 80 percent full of bicycles. Even Fela had a bike. When we came back in the night to sleep I sometimes stayed with Fela and sometimes at my place, as some mornings we started rehearsals early.
At this time one incident occurred that I’ve never told anyone before, as I’m a bit embarrassed when I’m talking about it. This was one Saturday night when we [The Downbeats] were playing at our normal place, and after finishing singing women were coming after me too aggressively. Fela was watching. He staved them off and said: “Leave him alone, don’t you know he’s a small boy? Don’t you have any shame?” I don’t know how one Yoruba lady talked Fela into this but all I saw was that the lady was following Fela. Her name was Dukpe. So Fela called me and told me: “Joe, Dukpe is going to teach you something tonight as she’s going to sleep with you. I’ve told her everything, she knows you are a kid and knows how to deal with you.” I said that Fela I can’t do this.
We got to my room that I shared with quite a few people and I don’t know how Fela managed it, but my roommates did not come in. Fela said goodnight and as he was going to close the door this lady just appeared in the room. Fela locked the door from outside and was laughing and saying that now we’ll see what will happen in the morning. Well, I need not continue on that story any more but this is to show how much Fela and I loved each other, like brothers; innocent young guys with talent.
Then another incident occurred the day he went to Britain [in August 1958]. Fela had a very beautiful bike, but even at that age he drove recklessly. His mother had bought a little German Opel car and all of a sudden Fela came to me with his left hand bandaged. He had run his mother’s car into a ditch and so he was going to inform her. I went to the house with Fela and his mother complained that Fela was giving her hell, so he’s going to London today to study. Fela said he wasn’t going to any oyinbo [whiteman] country, so as we were parting he said that I should come back as we were meant to be going out that night. His mother told me: “Don’t waste your time to come as you won’t find him here, he’ll be gone.” So this woman tied her headgear and over-cloth, took Fela’s passport with £90, and somehow this stubborn Fela wound up on an airplane to London. And that’s how we parted in the first phase of our friendship. In London he went to stay with one of his brothers who was training to become a doctor, as his mother also wanted Fela to be a doctor. From what I understand he entered medical school briefly but then went on to a music school in London.
What was Fela like when you first met?
You know Fela is a very brilliant chap, very intelligent, and very well rounded up in knowledge of many subjects. And Fela read a lot. He was also then very shy—we were both shy—but it was when we got together that we became terrible and could do anything. At that time he had finished one phase of his education [at Abeokuta Grammar School] and was waiting to go to university. He was an aspiring musician pianist for the second band of [Victor Olaiya’s] Cool Cats highlife group.
What was Fela’s relationship with his mother like?
Beautiful, very beautiful. You would think the mother only had Fela as a child, and for some time this is what I thought, only to learn later that there was an older and younger brother. Fela was the one who gave more challenges and trials of motherly patience and endurance. You should have seen the mother then. She was middle-aged, very strong, very determined, very forthright, very courageous, and very outspoken. I remember in the presence of Fela the mother told me not to follow him but rather show him how to be a good boy, and Fela just walked away making annoyed sounds. I could say that the love that he has for his mother, which later on showed, would be because they are very much alike in character. Both spoke their minds—from the little I saw of her she had values she adhered to. Like the value of a woman being able to do many other things besides the usual feminine classifications we give to women.
At that time Fela’s father had died and so the mother was twice of a father and once a mother—all rolled into one. If you go to the house you will see that she kept the house under rigid control. She wouldn’t follow any ideology, any saying, or any people blindly. I wouldn’t say she was always against the norm but I know she could not be swayed easily. She knew the world situation and politics, especially in Nigeria. She stood by her guns on principles that even go contrary to tradition and custom. Also she was a big freedom fighter and agitator—not only in words, but in action. On top of all that she was very affectionate, because if I look at how concerned she was about me then I can imagine how fortunate Fela and all her children were.
