I had always wanted to be a roadside mechanic –Peter Badejo, OBE

Celebrity choreographer who was awarded the Order of the British Empire, Peter Badejo, shares his experiences with PUNCH NEWSPAPER.

Why and how were you awarded the Order of the British Empire?

In 2001, the Queen of England gave me the Order of the Britain Empire for my contribution to the development of the African performing arts in Brittan. That’s how I got the award. My life is dedicated to the arts. I was born into a family of artists. My father used to be a musician and my mother was a visual artist. I grew up with the arts, especially dance and visual art. But as a child I had wanted to be a roadside mechanic. That ambition did not change until I was admitted to the University of Ife (now Obafemi Awolowo University). That was when I realised that I had a flair for communicating to a wider audience. It occurred to me that this was a lot better than to deal with only automobile engines for the rest of my life. That was where my career as a performing artist started. My knowledge of the arts is vast. I used to paint, etch, perform, act and dance. But I realised that the medium of dance was not only enjoyable, but healthy. You can communicate and make people think through the movement of your body. Although we have not got anywhere yet in this country, in terms of movement and communication, we are doing very well. In due course, we shall realise the full potential of the arts. I attended the University of Ghana in Legon. I obtained a master’s degree from the University of California in Los Angeles. In UCLA, I did some productions as a post-graduate student and it earned me a commendation from the Mayor of Los Angeles, Tom Bradley. That was my first big award in America. But I had to leave at the end of my course because I was on scholarship from the Ahmadu Bello University (Zaria). I came back to Nigeria. After some time, things were getting really tough here and I had to consider moving again. It was not because of the money. We were paid salaries, but there was no money to finance my productions. Before then, I had always travelled to England to teach during summer school. The British were doing a lot to develop the potential of African performing arts at the time. I decided to settle in Britain because of this. I have lived there now for 23 years.

Why did you have to go to a Ghanaian university for your first degree?

We had universities here, but none of them had a Department of Dance. Even now, there is no such department in any Nigerian university. Most universities here have a Theatre Arts Department, which offers different elective courses, but they still have not started a full dance department. You can only find it in Ghana. I was in the University of Ife before I moved to Ghana. I worked there as a performing artiste. Ghana has been ahead of us, in terms of starting a department which recognises dance as an art form that is worth studying.

What did you study at the University of Ife?

I tried an experimental workshop, which we called the Ori Olokun Theatre. It started in 1967 and I was one of the pioneers. We worked under different directors. A former Deputy Vice-Chancellor of the University of Benin, Prof. Uwangboje, was the lecturer for visual arts, while Prof. Ola Rotimi handled drama. Peggy Harper was there, too. And we had people who taught sculpture. What we did was more of the practical work than theory. That was the foundation of the theatre arts in the University of Ife.

It is hard to believe that you always wanted to become a roadside mechanic. What did you find attractive about the vocation?

I admired roadside mechanics because they worked hard. When you see a mechanic, you will know that he is a hardworking man. My father taught me that through hard work, I could get whatever I desired. Besides, there is a connection between what I do now, which is choreography and mechanics. The link is very simple. Choreography is about movement generally and in mechanics, in engine, there is movement. In people we have movement. I did my master’s in choreography and dance ethnology, which is the study of human movement from one culture to the other. That is my link.

Did you tell your parents about this dream career of yours?

I did not tell them. I could have also become a priest of the Roman Catholic Church. In fact, in 1979, I wanted to go to the seminary in New Orleans in the USA. My younger brother is currently the Catholic Bishop of Oyo Diocese. He is Rev. Emmanuel Badejo. Three of my siblings went to the seminary, but he is the only one who ended up becoming a priest. My parents were Catholics and they raised us as Catholics. But we were sufficiently grounded in African culture. Also, I had a flair for mathematics. I had always believed that through mathematics you could solve a lot of problems. Even at the age of five, I liked to solve problems. Each time my parents bought me a toy, I would dismantle it, though I might not be able to assemble it again. For me, it was easy transiting from my ambition to become a roadside mechanic to dance because it involved hard work. Usually, people do not recognise what it takes to be an artist. For example, in the university, when others left the classroom for the library or for their homes, one had to think of about the practical work, which might take more time. It is even worse when you decide to be a dancer because your body and mind have to be in tune with dance.

You could have studied law, medicine or engineering. Why did it have to be dance?

I had uncles that frowned vehemently at it. They said I couldn’t be so brilliant and yet, end up as a performing artist. They felt that if I had wanted to study theatre arts I did not need to go to the university, they could easily have sent me to Hubert Ogunde’s place. I was very lucky because my father, being an artist himself, allowed me do what I wanted to do. His brothers and friends were angry with him for giving me the liberty to do what I wanted. But that was for some time. I recall that when I returned from America, one of my uncles said to me, ‘I see you on television and read about it in the newspapers. What does it mean? What does it add up to? Are you rich? Your younger brothers are already lawyers.’ But some of them accepted it before they died. Others still feel it is a waste of time.

Looking back now, do you regret your choice of career?

No, I have no regrets. In fact, if anything, I thank God for the height I have attained in life. If I had chosen another profession, I would have made more money. But money is not happiness. I am glad that nature and God has made it possible for me to be where I am now.

How was growing up?

My parents lived in the North in the early part of my life. I grew up in Funtua among different ethnic groups. As a result, I speak Igbo, Yoruba and Hausa fluently. This has helped me in my work as a choreographer, in terms of translation. Choreography is a language. When you translate from a cultural background and put it into another medium, it becomes easier and richer and more convenient in transmitting your messages. Originally, I’m from Ijebu-Ode. My father was very adventurous. He left home very early and fended for himself. He had taught me from the beginning that what a man works for belongs to him, not what other people give him. He taught me never to take what did not belong to me. His analysis was the analysis of the eye. If any particle that does not belong to the eye enters, even if you cannot get it out during the day, it would swim out at night. That is the way my father saw life and he trained us like that. If you believe in what you are doing and you work hard continuously it would yield results. Between my father and mother, there were seven of us. I enjoyed my youth right from school. I was very good in dramatic arts. I remember in the 1950s, when I participated in a dance contest for the first time, I won 20 shillings. That was a lot of money in those days. It was a competition organised by the Yoruba community in Funtua. They played I.K. Dairo’s song and I just did my thing and I won. You should have seen how other parents, who did not encourage their children to dance, frowned at them. There were times when I felt bad about such occasional disapproval and hostile attitude from our people. For example, back in the days at UCLA, we used to have a Nigerian Students Association. Once, during a meeting of the association, other people introduced themselves as postgraduate students of engineering or medicine, and I got up and said that I was studying for a master’s degree in dance ethnology and choreography. For a split second, before the next person got up, a cold silence descended on the room. And I felt bad. Today, I don’t know what any of my peers have achieved that I have not achieved. They are always shocked when they read about you in the newspapers or see you and the work you have done. I may not be a governor or president, but I have no regrets. I give thanks to my background. My background was not compartmentalised. I had the opportunity to study the arts as a means of communication.

How was life in the North?

Life in Northern Nigeria today is completely different from what I used to know. It took me some time to reflect deeply on my ancestry. When I was growing up in the North, the Hausa, Igbo and Yoruba lived happily together. I used to take part in the activities of masquerades during the Muslim fasting period, as well as during Christmas and Easter. We all lived as one in those days, irrespective of tribe. We were comfortable and we could speak the languages of other tribes. Right there, we were creating the ideal Nigeria that should have existed rather than what we have today. It was much later that we started hearing stuff, such as ‘Your father is Igbo’ or ‘You can’t study here.’ When I was teaching in Kano, a policeman from Sokoto, Audu Bako, became the governor of the state. He started the school of performing arts, which had Igbo, Hausa and Yoruba students. Anybody could gain admission to the school, as long as he or she was talented. We were training the students and preparing to take them to Russia. At that time, nobody was thinking about where they came from. At a point, some Hausa people complained that we were admitting students whose parents were Igbo and Yoruba into the school. Then, Bala Miller, who was the director of the school, asked the students to bring their parents. When he asked the Igbo parents how long they had lived in Kano, some said 30 years or 40 years. Then he asked if they had been paying their taxes and they said yes. He turned to those who were grumbling about admitting non-Hausa into the school and asked them the same questions. All they could say was that they were Hausa and the land belonged to them. That was how tribalism started in this country. But these kids were brought into school because they were talented and we sent them abroad. That is the kind of Nigeria I remember. I wish it was the kind of Nigeria we have today. It was a mixed country where people were comfortable and built houses because they were comfortable, not because they did not know where to go to or where they came from. These days, Nigerians are no longer comfortable.

What do you think about the present situation in the North?

There is so much crime in Nigeria today. I simply do not understand what is happening in this country, especially in the North.  Each time I go back to England, people want to know what is happening here. We cannot call this violence a religious or ethnic affair until we discover the root. I think we are in a really bad situation. The killings don’t make sense to me. There are no sacred places anymore. Even the mosques and the churches are no longer safe. It is just killing for killing sake.

You have lived in Britain for 23 years. What is your experience, so far?

It is interesting how I ended up living in Britain because I had all the opportunity to settle in the USA. But I was more interested in coming home. My family was the primary reason why I had to return. Also, I wanted to contribute my quota to the development of the country. I went to ABU, Zaria, to work; things were rosy and we were being paid good salaries. But there was no money to conduct experiments and fund creative productions. I am a restless soul, especially when it comes to the arts.  So, I decided to go in search of the proverbial green pastures, not in terms of money, but where I can creatively exhaust myself, do my work and contribute to the development of African performing arts. I had chosen dance because African dance was quite rich and unexplored. That is what drove me out of Zaria. I wanted to see a new world. Then I went to London because the African dance performance was really booming then. That was when Europe had an African dance company called Azido. It was the largest dance company in Europe. I went to London. I started a dance company of my own in that city and I was able to inject some intellectual understanding into it because of my back ground. Ever since, my company, Badejo Arts, has hosted many workshops and contributed immensely to dance. At present, I am working on what I call the first African dance technique. We have forms of African dance, but we don’t have techniques. Technique is when you develop dance to the level where you have ballet dance and jazz and you have the qualification to teach the same thing all over the world. That is how you develop it and build disciples. It will be called ‘Batabade,’ based on the traditional Yoruba Bata dance. But it is going to be a new contemporary form of Bata. I am doing it as a prototype. Once the prototype is ready, it becomes easy to apply it to other dances, such as Atilogwu or salsa. In terms of the arts, London is a spoilt city. All arts come to London from Africa, or India, everywhere. It is a rich culture. When I first got to London, there were about 60 different companies. Now there are about 15 companies.

When you say that African dance is unexplored, what exactly do you mean?

We are talking about a rich culture, movement and understanding. A lot of dances that take place here today are choreography, which some people have put together through their understanding of the situation and events in their environment. People describe dance as a performance, but I describe it as an event, especially in Africa. It takes not less than three days to prepare for a cultural dance event. For example, during the Ijele Masquerade Festival, it takes almost a whole day to dress the masquerade. Then ours involves the whole process: the ritual, the celebration, and appeasement. It is what comes into one bottle of dance. Yet, I have not seen any serious research going on in the documentation of these dances. We should be asking what they meant in the past, and how we should organise the ideology behind this work. We have virtually used them; to welcome governors, and all but that’s not the end of our dance. Our dance is much more than that. And for a long time, our people have been using dance as a form of social criticism. If you visit the palace, you will find dancers and musicians and what they do relates to how the people live and understand one another.

Do you think dancers can earn good money in Nigeria?

Yes, that is why I advocate the institutionalisation of the arts, especially dance. If we invest in the arts, it can fetch us good money, besides creating job opportunities for people. But before then we have to train people and create the right atmosphere, avenues for them to do their arts. You cannot have the things you want to market without the market itself.

Would you describe yourself as a fulfilled choreographer?

Well, the sky is still the limit. I would count myself fulfilled, if in the nearest future we are able to produce epic performances and train dancers who can do better than what we have done now. It is not just about me, but the industry I am working in. It takes more than one person to develop the performing arts.

Are you married to a white woman?

No, I am not and this is not discriminatory. I got married two times. My first wife is an African-American. She is a professor of comparative literature in America. My second wife is a schoolteacher. She used to be a wonderful performing artist and she is Yoruba. She comes home regularly. Her father is a respectable man in Ibadan. My life is very simple with women. Circumstances made me switch from one to another, but the two of them are happy people.

What do you miss most about home when you are in Britain?

I like my food. As much as I cook it in England, there is nothing like the aroma you get when you do it in Nigeria. Each time I come here I get the best service in terms of when I go to the so-called local eateries. I miss the food and the people. Nigerians are wonderful people.