I'm writing this with one of Morocco Maduka's tracks playing in my ears. This man contributed a lot to the discovery of my Igboness, having been born and bred in Lagos, Southwestern Nigeria away from the homeland. I'd gone to a public school, and learnt the Yoruba language by interacting with mates, even before learning English in class. The Igbo I could speak was the everyday innocent ones gleaned in conversation with my parents and siblings, northing deep, no proverbs, idioms, parables and the likes. By primary six, I could read and write Yoruba, and the Igbo I could read was such that I could muster due to my experience with the Yoruba. Yes, we used to go to the village, but that's usually after the pilgrimage to Ubomiri, in Umuawam, Imo State during the Feast of Passover, then on to the village (where we were heavily shielded) to spend a few days there before heading back to Lagos. Those visits we made as kids wasn't enough to make us inculcate much of the Igbo language and culture, as we should as Igbo people. Interestingly, in all my Yorubaness, I couldn't eat Yoruba food, because we always ate home cooked meals, made by my mother, even during my university days, soup and stew was brought for me every weekend by my sisters, with my only job been to make ẹ̀bà and rice with which to eat the either respectively.


I'd say my Igbo consciousness started in 1993, when Igbo lives were threatened in Lagos, and like most Igbo families, my father moved us to the village, while he returned to Lagos to continue his business. This much longer time that we had to spend in the village, afforded me the opportunity to really look in and see what it means to be Igbo. I was in my teens then, and searching for my identity, and it proved the right time for me to have been in that situation, for I doubt that had I missed that opportunity, I'd only would've been an Igbo only in name. I came with my disco cassettes, and a few of the hip hop ones that was then beginning to gain ground as a genre. I found however, that people in my village didn't care for all of that kind of music, rather while the women made do with Igbo gospel music, the men spent their time listening to Egwu Ekpili, indigenous to my town, and some other neighbouring towns in Anambra State, that is how localised that brand of music was. I think I had no choice but to like the music because I was been harassed by it, left, right, and centre. There was no escaping it, from the bus stop, to the market, to the homes of friends that I visited, in the quiet of night from a neighbours stereo set, to distant sounds coming from the location where a wake keep was been held for the dead (interrupted by loud earth shaking thuds from canons stuck into the ground, with which people get to know that a person of significance has transited to the great beyond), and to my battery powered transistor radio, that I got to keep in touch with happenings around the world from the BBC very early in the mornings on short wave frequencies, but filled with Ekpili and other genres of Igbo music when I switched to the local FMs later in the day; when there was no power to watch our SANYO TV in a box, with doors, or music from our TRIDENT deck.


When peace was finally restored in Lagos, and we returned, one of the trophies I came back with were cassette tapes of Egwu Ekpili (Ekpili Music) exponents like

https://twitter.com/IgboHistoFacts/status/1322963517339828224?s=19

Chief Akunwata Ozoemena Nwa Nsugbe aka "Ayaka" and Prince Emeka "Morocco" Maduka. Lemme quickly add here, that an interesting feature about these two was that while Ayaka did his Ekpili in my mother's Igbo dialect (the "va" people) with his husky voice, Morocco, whose voice is reminiscent of Congo's Papa Wemba, apart from coming from the same local government as I, and with whom I share the same surname (even though he's no relation of mine), did his in my father's dialect (the "fa" people) of the Igbo language. Of course I'd been listening to Igbo music before my encounter with Egwu Ekpili, but none of them was as indigenous to me as the latter. I grew up listening to Oliver De Coque, who lived and had his band in Abayomi Street, Akoka in the late 80s and early 90s, behind my street then, and had a formidable rival in Chief Osita Osadebe for the crown of Highlife Music at the time, while others like Ali Chukwuma also held their fort from the Anioma axis. Bright Chimezie was a delight as well, with his Zigima Sound, he probably will be the first Nigerian musician to do a full album (and a few others) using the same beat, for different songs and titles, and successfully got away with it, but Ekpili was mine, and once I heard it, there was no going back. It took precedence over any other type of Igbo song for me, no matter how much I played them, including Sir Warrior and His Oriental Brothers.


Chief (Dr) Emeka Morocco Mmadụka
(Ọzọnweluibe na Dunukofia), Ẹzẹ Egwu Ekpili, as he came to be popularly addressed officially, played a huge role in helping me discover pride in being Igbo, I could tell the time before and after that happened in the way people, especially mates of mine called me. Those who call me by my English first name, are those who knew me before the transformation, while those who refer to me by my Igbo surname are those who I came to know after, because of the way I introduced myself to people before and after. It is for "Morocco" that I made it a point of duty to frequent the homeland once I came to myself, and indeed became very comfortable doing so, especially in the early days when the village didn't afford the kind of comfort and amenities I normally enjoyed in the city of Lagos. There are few musicians that I careered with as I did with Morocco, transiting from cassette tapes, to audio CDs, VCDs, DVDs, to MP3s, Flash Drives, and even now on my phone, with several audios and videos that I cannot do a week without. I'd thought that I would be privileged to have him praise-sing of my wealth and greatness before leaving Terra Firma, unfortunately I hadn't "hammered" enough to be able to afford him to do that for me before his translation. In lieu of that, I had simply appropriated the intro of "Money Palaver" which he started by chanting his name (which is as well mine), and for varying periods got rotated to be my ringing tone as I feel led to do.


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YIJoJLMNj3I

When I heard about the death of this icon last Thursday the 29th of October, on my village WhatsApp group platform, I was very upset and sad. The man that played such an important role in my life, without even knowing it, was gone. It was from the likes of Morocco that I gained some proficiency in Igbo proverbs and parables, that made it easier for me to catch up with peers and elders when they use same during private and public discourse, and when eventually I felt I had come of age, with some financial capability, I wasted no time in joining most of the groups, an Igbo man needed and is wont to be part of.


How about inspiration? Morocco's song was the sort, you could listen to and be inspired to be all out the whole day making more than the ends meet. I don't know how many Igbo men who listen to motivational speakers, on how to be inspired to aspire and acquire, but I know a lot who after listening to a sprinkling of the likes of Morocco, praising one Igbo businessman/entrepreneur or the other, have carved a niche for themselves, going on to do great things in their own fields. Though it is true that a few of those whose praises are sung in some Igbo cultural songs are people of questionable character, but it is the good that such songs do, in terms of motivating the young and upcoming to aspire to great things, to see obstacles not just as mere impediments, but as something that must be overcome, and having become successfully manifested, provide help for their communities while inspiring others coming after them. This is what stands out traditional Igbo music genres like Ekpili amongst the Igbo, and why they remain very popular amongst them regardless of their level of sophistication, despite the fact that such songs sound intolerant to the weak, and poor.


There was indeed a time, a few years back, when promoters of a certain music award show, must've felt Morocco was into gospel music because of the wide acceptance of his songs among Igbo people, and they failed to distinguish between his song and gospel music, thinking all Igbo music where Chukwu (God) is mentioned, and that's not Highlife, must be gospel, that he was awarded the Igbo Gospel Musician for that year, an award that was totally out of place, but that action spoke to the dearth of research and lack of knowledge of the Nigerian music industry amongst those who put together that award ceremony. Even though the Igbo were aware of the discrepancy, no attempt was made to correct the conferees who weren't Igbo, as for long Morocco had been denied awards because he didn't seem to fall into any of the contemporary categories; besides, the knowledge and advice most of his songs convey, is mostly lacking even in the so called popular gospel Igbo songs, which lack originality, and have over time become a medley of the same church songs everyone sang, growing up in church, only with different tunes and beats.


One thing I liked about Morocco was that though he also sang praises of politicians, he didn't get so invested with any of them, as to lose himself followership and fans who didn't agree with the politicians he sang about, like most of his peers did. Also, the usual rivalry that translated into hateful lyrics from two prominent artistes of a genre like we found between Tupac and Biggie, Oliver De Coque and Osita Osadebe, and many others, as they attacked each other verbally and/or through their music, wasn't found between Ayaka and Morocco, rather what existed between both of them was mutual respect, to the end, something those still in the music industry will do well to emulate.


I learnt that the last few months was tumultuous for Morocco, as he became ill, and as he himself stated in his last song, he tried everything he could to procure healing, availing himself of both orthodox and unorthodox remedies, until he visited Odumeje, a maverick and controversial but fast rising pastor in Southeastern Nigeria, and claimed to have been healed of his infirmities at his church, with video evidence to boot. Thereafter, he released a song


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QSrwNcD7PnI

which he dedicated to the same pastor. Unfortunately, he died about four months after the song seemed to have hit the airwaves. At 76, I cannot say Prince Emeka "Morocco" Maduka hasn't lived a good life, in a country where the average life expectancy for males is hardly close to the sixties. A life he lived without scandals, with wife and children also devoid of scandals and doing well in their endeavours different from that of their father. The whole of Dunukofia Local Government Area of Anambra State, and beyond (especially among the Igbo, at home and in the diaspora) has been thrown into mourning since news of his death made the rounds, something that even traditional rulers, politicians, may governors of the Southeast States can only dream of at their deaths. People like Morocco never die, they live forever, in our hearts.


'kovich


LIVE FOREVER, PRINCE EMEKA “MOROCCO” MADUKA – madukovich's cogitations - https://madukovich./2020/11/04/live-forever-prince-emeka-morocco-maduka/