“I Cleaned Toilets Until I Released My Second Album” - Nneka Egbuna
Multiple award winning artiste and songwriter, Nneka Egbuna, has played in sold out concerts across Africa, America and Europe, as well as performed alongside globally renowned stars such as Nas, The Roots, Lenny Kravitz, Erykah Badu, Talib Kweli, Lauryn Hill and Damian Marley. In this interview with Arukaino Umukoro, staff writer, Nneka, who recently released her third album ‘Soul is Heavy’, bares it all. The daughter of an Anambra State-born Nigerian father and German mother, who was born and raised in a polygamous home in Warri, Delta State, revealed how she rose from the depths of cleaning toilets in Germany for years to the heights of global acclaim. Excerpts:
So if someone calls you ‘Warri girl’, are you proud of it?
I am from Warri. Of course, I am proud of what I am, who I am.
You said you were the normal everyday girl. Did you have stares that made you think you were different?
No. Obviously I was fair-skinned. But it was not a big deal in Warri, because there were many of us, due to the presence of (crude) oil in that area. You had a lot of foreigners coming in who intertwined with the people of the Niger Delta. So you had a lot of mixed breed children. So it wasn’t really anything special to see a mixed kid hawking oranges on the road.
When did you get to meet your (German) biological mother?
That was at the age of 16. But then I was sent back. I had never even been to Lagos. Lagos for me was big and when I saw the lights, the skyscrapers, the buildings, it was already like a different country for me. And then, talk less of entering a plane, because ‘na road I use enter Lagos from Warri’. Then, being in a plane for the first time, all that excitement and meeting my mother for the first time in a foreign land, you know, it was okay.
Did you scream, hug her?
I’ve always been a very cool person. Now I’m a bit wild. From my infant years to the age of maybe nineteen or twenty, when I started to hustle for myself, I was very, very quiet. I just remember at the airport, she standing there and me staring. Sure you want to be around your mother. I think I had that feeling, but I wasn’t sure. You know, when you don’t get all that emotional attachment. In Nigeria, unfortunately, in families, parents don’t hug or touch their children. They care, but don’t express it. I think that had a lot to do with the way I approached my mother. For me, it was just, wow, this is my mum and I thought I was going to stay. But then, the whole story went a different direction and I found myself back in Africa three months later (laughing).
Three months and you came back, why?
I think cultural differences were what made my mother not able to cope with us. My brother and I went together. So I think the whole situation, the way she left at that time, because she lived in Nigeria for about 25 years, she speaks the language, Warri. So, I guess the whole re-embracing Africa through us was too much (for her). So we had to find our level.
What was your first contact with music?
I can’t remember. All I knew was that I liked singing, when I was cleaning in the morning, when I had to wash my father’s car. I sang once or twice in the church. But I was not in the choir. We went to St Peter’s Anglican Church. Then, I also founded the Christian Union in school at that time. I was strictly born again. So I had a choir where we would sing during break time at Demonstration Secondary School (public school). Sometimes, we didn’t have chairs. It was a bit rough. I attended Delta Steel Company (DSC) Primary School.
Like you said, you were once very born again?
Yeah, I mean I’m still close to God. I think it’s unfortunate that human beings are that way, when you’re going through difficulties. You’re close to God. When you’re feeling okay, you don’t approach God as often as you should. Yeah, I guess that time, I had a very strong reason to hold on to God.
So I can see where your musical and political roots came from?
Yeah. I was never a very outspoken person. I was jealous of people who would be very courageous and self-confident to speak about things. I wasn’t really too confident about myself. I think I became more confident when I left Nigeria and when I had to learn German, cater for myself. I became stronger.
What were some of those experiences that made you stronger?
The first year of being in Germany, I couldn’t speak the language then. So my major focus was to learn the language, because you can’t be in a place and not understand what people are saying. And I was paranoid about it. I was in an asylum with people of different origins. So it was not a smooth entry. This was late 1999 or early 2000. I was there for about a week and then they took me to a reformation facility, this massive building where you had different children. Some didn’t have parents, or were difficult to raise; you had armed robbers, drug addicts who were all in this building. Me, I just came from Africa and they gave me a small room, with only a small bed, a small window and a small wash hand basin, like a prison. I was there for about a month. They find out what they can do with you, which school they could put you in, therapists come to talk with you for a while to find out what you’re all about. Then, there are guardians who would decide for you. So, there was this day when I sat with one of the guardians, and said I had a brother here (in Germany). I said I had never been a bad child so I didn’t deserve to be in a prison here; because as far as I was concerned, it was a prison. So they looked into the yellow phone book and found the number of one of my uncles and called him. Eventually, they got my brother on phone. They picked me up and I moved in with him. He was also squatting with somebody. We were there for a while together. His girlfriend at that time, who was also in a reformation facility, gave me connection to this Catholic home where different children were being taken care of. I became one of them. So, that was where I was for the next six years.
So, those years shaped you?
Yeah, those years shaped me. Then I got into school and became more confident to work, because I could speak the language then. My very first job was selling shoes in a shoes place. But they fired me because the woman said I was not open enough. After that, I worked in a driving licence school as a secretary, despite the fact that I never had a driving licence. Then, I worked in a cinema, and I had to clean the toilets every morning, actually from five to eight, four floors. So I would come out from the cleaning place and go to school. I studied archaeology and anthropology.
When did you start playing music?
Music was always something I did on the side. I met a couple of people who were into music when I was in that facility with these girls, including a musician I was babysitting for. Then I got the contact to studios and I would be a studio singer. I met a couple of producers but they never really believed in me because I was not that sexy kind of girl. Most of the musicians whose career they would push were girls who were very ‘feminine’. So what I would do was write the songs, then those girls would sing the songs. I always remained in the background. Then I met DJ Falk from Afghanistan and we started working together. This was maybe three years after.
So, while you were schooling, you were still doing shows?
I was doing gigs because the only way I could afford my studies was to work. I worked in that cinema, cleaning those toilets for almost three years. But then I would still do music on the side. So sometimes, I would do small shows to get some money. I earned about four hundred Euros at the cinema to finance my education; sometimes, maybe three hundred and something because we had a Nigerian oga who was a little thief. He would bring people in who entered Germany illegally and would tell them to work. But then he would remove money from their income, just like a bribe.
Were you famous then?
I was famous while I was cleaning. I cleaned until I released my second album (No Longer at Ease). I cleaned until the beginning of 2007/2008. I did shows. I sold out a whole concert. I would use my bicycle to go to play at the concert and bike back because it was difficult to catch the train at nighttime and I didn’t have the money for taxi. So I would use my bicycle back home so that I can sleep at least for four hours to wake up the next morning and clean toilets. I didn’t care about anybody or anything.
Your first album had relative success. Did you ever encounter anybody in the toilet that went ‘oh, that’s Nneka!’
Oh yeah. There was one morning when I was coming out of the cinema with the mop and all that. And there was one guy who came and he asked what I was doing there. I said I was cleaning the toilets and he said, ‘no way’. I was like, yeah. That’s life now. Me I no get shame.
How many copies of your first album did you sell?
It was not that much. We gave out about 5,000 copies in the beginning for a test, it didn’t go too well. It was difficult. DJ Falk and I produced it together. Most of it was done in the basement, not in the studio.
You won the 2009 Music of Black Origin (MOBO) award. I think that was when Africa recognised that they had a genuine superstar. How did you feel after MOBO?
MOBO was good. The name alone is heavy. I was like, wow, people acknowledge me as a black person. And it’s cool. But people in Naija, they call you oyiyi or oyibo, they won’t take you in as a Nigerian. Standing up there and making a speech and raising the Nigerian flag; that was for me a priority. It was great because after that I gained more popularity in Nigeria and Africa. Then Channel O invited me, nominated me for other awards.
Your new album, Soul is Heavy, what necessitated the single and then album title?
Well, obviously, I come from Niger Delta. And not only that, I’ve been educating myself of the past, the Shell issue and of course our political leaders who were not very concerned about the well-being of the people of the Niger Delta. Oil spillage, gas flaring, people are dependent on fishing and farming but they are ruined. Nobody really cared. Then you have the militants. Every time I go to Warri, I see the truth. So, I feel something has to change. For the fact that God has taken me this far to stand on a stage where more than one person listens to me, I see myself as the voice of the many who do not have the chance or courage to speak. So, I’m just raising awareness about what is happening and still happening in that side of the country.
During one of your concerts in Port Harcourt, Governor Rotimi Amaechi and others were there. How did you feel performing in their midst?
I just felt the way I would feel if I was performing anywhere in the world. So I just did it and the funny thing was that they started singing with me. There was the song called Vagabonds in Power (VIP). After that, Amaechi came on stage and said, ‘me I’m not (a) vagabond in power oh. She’s talking to all these ministers here (general laughter). After that, he came backstage and said, ‘young woman, I like your courage’. That was weird. But then, the next time I came to Port Harcourt, the SSS wanted to push me off stage. That was during the Niger Delta Peace Concert. I was performing the theme song and maybe 10,000 people were there. It was an open air and it was free. And when I started singing Vagabonds in Power, it was too much for them. They came on stage and were harassing us. So we had to take off. They wanted to arrest us and actually threatened my manager. I don’t know who gave them the order.
What’s your view about Nigerian music? Has it come of age?
You know, it’s nice that we have more artistes, there is a blend between traditional and western. But I’d still like to hear that traditional music is pushed as far as Tuface, for instance. I would like to hear a Seun Kuti more often, you know, it’s not typical Naija, but it’s still Afrobeat; more of Victor Uwaifo, and others to be pushed and supported, because I think we have to preserve our culture. It’s nice to blend and mix because the world has to evolve. We all have to evolve. But in the end, I think we need to preserve our culture.
Aside your obvious music passion, what else do you do?
I paint and I am a co-founder of a foundation called ROPE, founded by Ahmed Ner from Sierra Leone who used to work with ex-child soldiers, who lost their limbs or became physically challenged through them. So we work with these children with music as an art form for them to express them. So we’re trying to do that here in Nigeria, although we don’t have child soldiers, but we have other issues.
You featured in the movie, Relentless?
Yeah, I did this movie for a friend, the producer, Andy Okafor, somebody I find very talented but underestimated. It was very artistic, that was why I liked it and it had a message, talking about ECOMOG in Sierra Leone, corruption, elections and how votes are rigged. All those things are in there. So, I thought okay, I can connect with the message and this would be a good thing to do.
What’s your view about racism in Germany and the world from your experiences?
It’s a horrible thing to make somebody feel inferior. I’ve had my own personal encounters with racism; in the university where a professor would not want to give you credit because you are black. I had that situation when I submitted a dissertation. He (the lecturer) said, you guys are good at doing music, playing basketball, you know, it was really bad. And then of course, at my working place where they would give black people yama-yama jobs and the oyibo people better jobs. Most black people abroad, despite their certificates, get bad jobs. I was cleaning those toilets with doctors, architects and engineers from Nigeria. But there is one thing that we Africans have not worked on – that’s colonial mentality, like Fela would call it. Everybody wants to rush and cross, we kill ourselves in the process. When you get there, you sell your soul. Before you know it, you’re no more who you used to be and you start doing stuff or selling drugs. You paint the name of Africa black in the eyes of the white man. So, we also carry a lot of responsibility, the way we see ourselves and what we do.
source: tell magazine
