OJB Jezerel, tears for fears: a tribute by Joseph Edgar?
My very good friend Charles Aigbe of UBA called me out of the blue and in a shaky voice he asks me if I had heard of the demise of this wonderful being.
I screamed and wet my pants. I felt the hot pee dribble down my trousers as I stood shell shocked and bewildered from this mad news. OJB the diminutive producer, my friend and brother had finally given up. He had decided to leave us and take his genius to another realm. I stood perplexed and with pee still dribbling down my right leg I began to sob and hum a soft song of sorrow. I saw my brother flash past me in that minute.
I saw his laughter as he listened to my tired jokes, I saw him injecting himself with the daily dose that was meant to keep him alive, I saw him play with his dreadlocks, I saw him attempt a feeble punch at me, threatening to beat me up like he usually did. I saw him stare at the backside of a very beautiful lady walk past even as I laughed at him that his prime had past especially with all the injections and drugs he had to take and I saw him boast that he was still a man in every way even as he attempted to strip to show me his manhood. I was in a confused state of laughter and tears. My tears turned to fear, fear for his wives and children, fear for his legacy and fear for this society that ate up its very best and chewed them out with the spittle of neglect and venomous hatred. OJB has gone and with him his gentle smile, his musical genius and a chapter in the life of a nation who once stood in awe at his musical prowess. I am still in a state of shock because he touched me.
We walked through almost all the halls of useless capitalism seeking for funds for the over 30million Nigerians suffering from this debilitating illness. As we walked, the hot scorching sun biting us, OJB stopping momentarily to take his drugs and rest his tired and weary feet not wanting others to suffer like he was. Only UBA and AIICO especially AIICO gave us reprieve, the rest kicked us out of their offices. One even went ahead to host the 10th year anniversary of a musician with millions when all we just wanted was a paltry N500,000 to send to an ailing patient under OJB‘s care. My brother is gone. We shared the same birthdate and also shared a penchant for curvy women settling with the same number of ‘wives’ and loving every moment we shared. Ojb’s death has paralyzed me and turned me into a zombie.
I know he is within Gods bosom for such people where never meant to last. They were built to live very short but impactful lives. Adieu my brother and don’t ever forget our song. The one we were trying to do in your studio upstairs that Saturday morning, you in your underwear, dreadlocks hanging loosely over your handsome face and me naked with only my boxer shots screaming and squealing all in the name of singing and disturbing your neighborhood. Our song will go with you as you glide towards our Lord in a blaze. Sleep well my brother and God bless.