Wole Soyinka Mourns The Death Of Legendary Fela After 10 Years With Indescribable Words [READ]

Wole Soyinka

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The Nobel Laureate, Wole Soyinka employed his literary prowess in describing the death of Legendary Fela Anikulapo Kuti, a re renowned Nigerian activist and singer.


In commiseration of the singer who died on August 2 twenty years, Soyinka took to his Instagram page early this morning to reminisce the death of his young cousin.

As you know that, Soyinka is an highly sound writer who intentionally defiles the English Dictionary, I implore you a keen interest as you enjoy his remembrance words:

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“The news came on my portable radio and it sounded so strange, a floating contradiction that was at once detached from, yet infused with the world from which I had myself just earned a lover’s rebuff. My young cousin, the ‘ abàmì èdá ‘ that the world knew as Fela, was dead. He had not  yet attained his sixtieth year. A naked torso over spangled pants, over which a saxophone or microphone would oscillate on stage, receiving guests or journalists in underpants while running down a tune from his head, in the open courtyard at rehearsals or in any space where he held court – all constituted the trademark of his unyielding non-conformism. Far more revealing than such skimpy attire however was his skin-taut skull and bulging eyes, permanently bloodshot from an indifferent sleeping routine and a dense marijuana diffusion. His singing
voice was raspy, not intended to entice but arrest with trenchant messages. Sparse and lithe, Fela leapt about the stage like a brown, scalded cat, whose  miaaow was a rustle of riffs eased from a saxophone that often seemed better maintained than his own body. Fela loved to buck the system. His music, to  many, was both salvation and echo of their anguish, frustrations and suppressed aggression. The black race was the beginning and end of  knowledge and wisdom, his life mission, to effect a mental and physical liberation of the race. It struck me as a kind of portent – that it was while visiting this distant outpost of my home, Abéòkúta, in Westermoreland, propelled – but quite soberly, objectively – by thoughts of death of that other musician member of my family – the irrepressible maverick, Fela Anikulapo-Kuti.

Fela Kuti lived between October 15, 1938 and August 2, 1997. he spent his life entertaining humanity with his uncommon style of singing and criticizing the inhumane policies of Nigerian Government.

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