- Gringory
For many years, ace actor, Mr James Iroha, aka Giringory Akabuogu,
held Nigerians spellbound with his acting prowess, especially owing to
the comical bent in his performance. He was a regular on the popular
television soap, Masquerade, on national television, the Nigerian Television Authority (NTA).
Today, Iroha, who is 70, is a shadow of
himself. He’s old, sick, poor, blind and dying gradually. He told
Saturday Sun the story of his life, in his hometown, Amaokwe Item, in
Item, Bende Local Government Area, Abia State.
You made a mark in acting. How would you say your life in acting came about?
I would tell you about my family. My
mother was not educated; neither was my father. God brought them
together theatrically. My mother happened to be the funniest woman I
ever met in my whole life. If she failed to come out at any major
festival day, like Mbom festival in Item community the people would wait
until she appeared. It was only when she arrived at the scene that the
mood as well as the pace for the ceremony would be set. She was funny
beyond comparison. No child ever cried in my compound. She always had a
mask and carried a small knife with which she threatened children and
made them submissive, whenever they tried to disturb their parents.
Everyone knew Oyidia Ugorji and she
enjoyed herself thoroughly. At a certain stage, when I left primary
school and went through secondary school and university, I realised that
my parents were running a theatre at home. They didn’t know they had a
theatre. But it had no form, no pattern; like when God created this
world it had no form; so He kept remoulding and nailing until he got it
right and there was light. That light in the family happened to be me.
What were your school days like?
We were living in Bukuru, Plateau State then. Every child in that sub-station staff quarters owned by the National Electric Supply Company
(NESCO) was going to school, except me. So, parents of those children
met one day and decided to ask my elder brother why he did not send me
to school. He could not answer and they agreed to raise money for me to
go to night school. While other children went in the day, I went in the
night. I used to collect some ink from them and smear on my shirt to
look like a day student. After primary school, the head teacher of St.
Peter’s College, Bukuru noticed me and came home to ask my brother why I
had not been sent to higher school. He said he was ‘prepared to help.
At the end of the talk, the man decided to accept me in the school,
free. That was the first scholarship I had. Eventually, I went to the
University of Ibadan and majored in Theatre Arts, in 1966. I was the
best graduating student, pre-war of the university.
Tell us about Masquerade cast…
At the end of the civil war in Nigeria, I
looked at the faces of easterners everywhere I went and I could see
long faces, telling sad stories of the just-concluded hostilities. These
faces could not be brightened by mere thinking, or even eating because
they must have lost their loved ones, property and homes. Then I thought
there could be something to do to lift their spirits. I thought about
my final year project, which established that Africans readily accept
humour and decided to do what I called ‘enteredutainment.’ That is to
say through entertainment, we could inject education, while the people
enjoyed themselves; we could import some serious information about life.
So I said to myself, let me see what I
could do, so that when people watch or listen to the drama, they would
be relieved of the burden on their faces and instead radiate love and
happiness. So, I started what I called the adventures of Chief Zebrudaya
Okoroigwe Nwogbo, alias 4.30. My father gave me the impression that he
was not speaking the ordinary Igbo; he spoke Arochukwu Igbo. When he
spoke English, some of the words could not be found in the dictionary,
although he could communicate with you, his own way. His method is
called malapropism. The late George Bernard Shaw wrote about it as the
ability to communicate in English without being right. But he still
could communicate. That was exactly what my father did without knowing
it.
Why did you choose to project Chief Zebrudaya instead of Giringory?
No one else impressed me in that role
more than him. I looked at the Efiks and Ibibios and they were
assiduous; so I chose Giringory and Clarus to play those roles. There
was nothing Clarus did not do to bend Giringory, by telling lies.
Between him and Clarus, that was the real opposite. He told all the lies
he liked, but Giringory told all the truth. Put it together, you would
get what you wanted. Just like my mother, who played the role of
homebuilder sort of, my father played the bring-down-the-roof type of
role.
Was your role as Chief Zebrudaya’s servant due to your background?
No. It takes the wisdom in the whole
world to be successfully foolish. If you want to be stupid you need to
pray to God for wisdom to be foolish enough; otherwise you can’t make
it.
How long did you stay on the set?
I was 24 years old when I began acting,
but today I’m 70. I started acting as amateur before going to the
university; so as a professional, I spent over 40 years on the set. I’m
still acting at home and abroad.
What’s your take on artistes’ welfare in Nigeria today?
Government, ab initio, was projecting us
and said we ought to have been paying them. According to them that they
gave us a medium to express ourselves was good enough; so they were
even asking us to pay. They were paying us N250 per episode of the
Masquerade. Some of us got N2; others received N10 only, and even at
that we kept praying and hoping that we would appear the next week. So
unlike now, we were not paid any professional fees. A time came when I
thought the government discovered that they had skeletons in their
cupboard. They thought, perhaps, we were going places and at the end of
the day we may end up destroying them, exposing them too much in
Masquerade. That’s why they supported our being yanked off the air. That
was how we were rested. I’m sure Nigerians still want the programme,
even till tomorrow. If we start it again, it would still be as wholesome
and entertaining as it was in the beginning. Even in Nollywood, we have
seen all sorts of video productions, but we have not seen anything
better than the Masquerade.
You were honoured with the Officer of the Order of the Niger (OON). How did this come about?
I was not expecting the award. I was
surprised when they gave me a form to fill in my office at Owerri. They
said I had been picked to receive the national award. I said, ok. I
didn’t believe it was my own James, until I saw James Akwari Iroha on
the form. I didn’t even know how they got my full names. However, I
filled the forms and returned them to the governor of Imo state, the
late Chief Sam Mbakwe, who forwarded them to Lagos. This was during the
time Alhaji Shehu Shagari was Nigeria’s president. When they were
reading my citation I was shocked because I didn’t believe it was I.
Later somebody told me he interviewed a lady who taught me in my primary
school and the teacher gave a good report about me.
We understand you have been ill. Has government done anything to help you?
Nothing as yet, but some of my
professional colleagues came when my wife died. That was good enough.
Chief Zebrudaya was here, and Ovularia too. A couple of my friends came
visiting also. That was very encouraging.
Do you have any regrets?
I don’t have any regrets because if I
say I have some regrets, just because of personal challenges, that would
be wrong. I entertained the public and they are still showing
appreciation. Whenever I need money I go to the bank and say to the
manager, I’m broke, I don’t have any money. He would say how much do you
need, and I would bring out my ledger and he would say write your
cheque; that’s all. I would collect some money and go home. If I were
sick and go to the hospital, the doctor would see me and whatever
emergencies he has, he would drop them and find the drugs, even when the
drugs are out of stock. I have a lot of goodwill; that’s why I said I
have no regrets, because that is what is keeping me alive. Masquerade
gave a lot of people the impression that it is a subtle vehicle for
serious information. For the fact that government doesn’t want the
programme, the much we have done so far is good enough.
What message do you have for young actors?
Let them not give up. Let the budding
artistes continue to entertain the public. It is a good role and highly
satisfying. Let them continue nursing the hope.
What do you think of Nollywood?
They have done well so far. But I
believe there is still room for improvement. There was a time I was
invited by the LNG in Lagos, as a special guest of honour. They asked me
about Nollywood and I said Nollywood had changed the face of
entertainment in the country; but there is room for development; there
are some loose nuts that must be tightened. If you watch some of their
productions, they keep saying people below 16 or 18 years cannot watch
these films or videos, and as the production comes up you would see
something contrary. What I don’t like is why should the producer say the
film is not for under 16, yet in the actual production you see people
below 16 in the film? How do you reconcile that? The solution is for
them to create children’s time belt and films, so that the children
would know the time belt to watch their film and go to sleep, while
adults can stay on their own belt and watch their production. They are
not doing that. Adults should perform for children, not leaving children
to produce their own films.
Tell one about your failing health…
I have been to various doctors and
wherever people suggested. My friends keep suggesting here and there and
I went to all those places, even to India. Now there is nothing between
poverty and me. I’m just nose-to-nose with poverty. If I mention the
amount of money I spent in India, it’s unbelievable. I was almost
stranded in India, living in a bed and breakfast hotel for 16 days. When
I came back here, I was almost useless. I’m a pensioner and my pension
is not regular. Government sometimes does not have money to pay us our
pension. In that situation, they pay their regular staff before thinking
of pensioners. We are dead woods.
If you receive large sum of money what would you do with it?
Personal rehabilitation. The first thing
I will do is personal rehabilitation, and then pay my rent. I don’t
have a house of my own. I still pay landlord rent even in this twilight
time of my life.I am almost begging for food; so I need money to pay my
rent, buy my medicines and maybe repair my car, which has been there for
two years, untouched. So, if I get some money, I think I would be happy
and better off psychologically, I may be healed too.
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