Why do we love Nigerian artistes yet they treat us with contempt?

Half an hour before we went on air for the late edition of #theTrend last Friday, my long-suffering producer, Kevin Gitau, received a text message that Nigerian guest Timaya had cancelled his appearance on this peasant’s show.

Never mind that we had a contract with the organisers of BBQ Live, where he would be performing the next day. “Nothing of value was lost,” I later remarked on air while explaining why he wouldn’t be showing up.

I wasn’t just being savage because of sour grapes, I honestly didn’t know who Timaya was. The always entertaining Kenyan group, The Kansoul, even teased me about it on the show just a fortnight ago.

So when I heard that someone I neither knew nor cared about couldn’t be bothered to honour a contract and show up to promote his concert, I felt no sense of loss or disappointment.

It wasn’t the first time a guest had changed their mind about coming on the show at the last minute. It wasn’t even the first time a Nigerian guest had confirmed that they would come in for an interview, only to drop out at the eleventh hour.

It comes with the territory and we’ve learnt to quickly reorganise the broadcast when that happens because we are live and the show must go on. There was the time Flavour ran into trouble with Immigration on his arrival in the country and threw a great big fit.

Gospel singer Sinach apparently refused to leave her room when it was time to head out to Nation Centre and she couldn’t be convinced otherwise. Meh, I always respond when I hear of these tantrums and promptly move on.

To be fair, it’s not just Nigerian stars who do this but they are more temperamental than any other nationality we have dealt with over the years. The stories of the divas and prima donnas with pidgin accents my team have could fill a book.

Days before Timaya’s non-event, there was Burna Boy’s objectively underwhelming performance at a club in Westlands. Fans complained that they had to wait until 4am, only for the Nigerian artiste to give a lacklustre show.

The morning after, Twitter was ungovernable as Kenyans called him out and some demanded back the Sh1,500 they had paid as gate charges. He was abusive and immature and blocked anybody whose tweets he didn’t appreciate.

“Do not stoop to the level of replying some peasants (sic)…plenty talk no dey full basket,” one of his countrymen tweeted him. “I’m bored (expletive) here + I couldn’t find a flight out this morning. So these ‘peasants’ are my entertainment till I dip,” he responded.

The contempt in that tweet is spectacular, but it also showcases what these artistes who get top billing here really think of us.

Local musician Nyashinski has a whole song about this Kenyan obsession with Nigerian artistes, and it is useful to revisit why it exists.

There is a musician on every street corner of Lagos hoping to make it big time. I’ve been to Ojuelegba, the Kayole of the Nigerian capital city made famous by Wizkid. Most people don’t escape the drudgery and poverty of life there, considering how hard it is to succeed in a dirt-poor country of nearly 190 million.

“Burna Boy calling Kenyans peasants, forgetting that real peasants occupy the whole of northern Nigeria dying each day by the gun and hunger,” pointed out @jumaf3.

Even though it is the largest economy in Africa, the average income is still so pitiably low that no Nigerian has the moral authority to call any other African a peasant.

I’m amused by the superiority complex that Nigerian artistes bring to Kenya and the rest of the continent. Granted, they are selling more records than almost anyone on the continent but I’ve met some of the world’s biggest names who are also the most approachable, down-to-earth people you’ll ever encounter.

A Nigerian artiste gets a million views on YouTube and they suddenly think they’re Kanye West. Take a seat and learn how to be humble from people far more accomplished than you will ever be.

Naija singers become arrogant when they land at JKIA because they are glorified here, given much more relevance than they have even at home.

They get invites to #theTrend, radio interviews, fawning tweets and VIP treatment. Instead of taking it as a marketing opportunity, they mistakenly think they have made it and treat us like trash instead of worshipping the ground we walk on.

It is only those without character who would spurn the opportunities life has brought them because of some silly pride or misplaced sense of self-importance.

Acts like Burna Boy, Flavour and Sinach don’t respect us because we don’t respect ourselves and support home-grown performers. It is time to ignore these spoilt brats until they learn to be grateful.

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