SAGE HASSON: USING THE POWER OF WORDS

It’s been 16 years since Sage Hasson discovered the power in Spoken Word Poetry. Words leap from his lips like a gazelle and encircle his audience like a fisherman’s net. But not all has been rosy. From collaborating with musicians, running a music company to becoming a sought-after by big brands, Hasson tells Vanessa Obioha the highs and lows of his craft in a recent encounter

Once upon a time, a 13-year-old boy came across the popular Jamaican artiste and dub poet Mutabaruka on TV. He was instantly enthralled. His performance style stood out for the boy among the other reggae artistes that performed on the TV programme Reggae Sunsplash. Curious, he asked his mother what Mutabaruka’s performance was called. She told him it was a certain kind of poetry.

From that day, the boy began to envision himself performing with words like Mutabaruka. He wasn’t entirely new to the world of poetry, but Mutabaruka’s rhymes and rhythms were exceptional to him. He would recite reggae chants, spin lines, hoping to impress his listeners. His art finally came into full bloom in the third decade of his life. During this period, he decided to allow the art of poetry to sail into his soul.

That young man is Sage Hasson, the pioneer of Spoken Word Poetry in Nigeria. For 16 years, Hasson has dedicated his life to Spoken Word, enrapturing audiences with the intensity of his words. Each time he mounted the stage for a performance, the audience was not only entertained but awed by his craft. His words leap like gazelle from his lips and encircle them like a fisherman’s net, such that they leave with a sack of golden truths. For instance, early this year, he performed at the Under 40s CEO Forum. His performance was titled ‘African Renaissance’, where he painted the resilient spirit of the continent as the new frontiers of business with colourful words.

Hasson was born in Kaduna but is from Niger. His early memories of Kaduna is a far cry from what it is today.

“I left Kaduna in 1983, right after primary school. As an adult, I keep visiting – not just central Kaduna but other parts of it. I honestly don’t know what to make of what’s going on, but there is an uncertainty and a halting of growth and development,” he said. “The politics over the years since the tribal and religious dissonance has slowed the social development of the people. I mean, Kaduna was the capital of Northern Nigeria, but now there’s nothing to show for that glorious honour it once had. Jos, on the other hand, is forcefully marching forward despite similar challenges it faced and faces. But the resilience of the people of Kaduna is commendable, and hopefully, eventually, we will all see a better day soon.”

He sees the same doggedness in the country despite the avalanche of problems confronting it.
“Nigeria is resilient. My goodness. We will scale through this. This ship will sail this rough sea,” he said passionately. “I mean, we are still laughing and making jokes about what’s going on. There are two things to this – either we joke and collapse, or we laugh and just see this as another challenge to overcome. We are an incredible lot. South Africa or any country cannot face this beating right now. We are still standing.

“We are like that whale that waged up on the beaches of Lagos 20 years ago that refused to diminish despite the people who hacked out large chunks of it to eat. I saw it; the more they cut, the hole was covered like it had an abundance of itself somewhere no one could reach. We are like that whale. You cut us, we heal. I know now we are being cut too many times in too many places, and the healing is slow, but this whale will not diminish. When they are done, we will stand. Or, like the whale, the ocean will claim its seed before they do. And the ocean, in our instance, is the people. It’s time we take back our country.”

Whether Hasson realised that his response was poetic or not, he carried on the conversation as if he had just answered in simple terms.
Over the years, Hasson watched the craft of Spoken Word spread its wings like an eagle all over the country. New faces were coming into the field. Pockets of performances were held in familiar and strange places. To him, the spread was welcoming. It had always been in his plan.

“When I started Spoken Word, I felt the responsibility of carving this niche for the tribe that was coming after. I knew what it meant to be a leader of a difficult genre. Whatever I did in my career, at the back of my head was the thought that you must make room and make way for a thousand. So, even my name, the ‘Sage Has Son,’ is an allusion to that; the Sage will have offspring, will be a father. So everything was designed to suit the purpose of being a father of an art form. How well I fared is another matter entirely.”

Not all has been rosy in his over a decade career. He started professionally in 2005 and had his first major performance at Hip Hop World Awards in 2006. He had few collaborations with some Nigerian musicians like Mode 9, Silver Saddih. Tosin Martins. Bez.
“Recently, I did something with Parker Ighile. I did a track on Brymo’s album Tabula Rasa and a few others,” he disclosed.
Hasson even tried to run a music company. It was short-lived.

“I don’t run a music company anymore. I think I failed in that one. I ran three labels, but my human management skills were deficient, and so I suffered for it. I watch the other companies, contemporaries of mine doing so well, and I sometimes wish I had the sense to keep going rather than throw in the towel. But everything happens for a reason. Hopefully,” he said, laughing.

While he has received accolades and earned respect from people, he sometimes feels underappreciated compared to other artistes.
“You’re underpaid and not as opportune to work. So there are days and seasons of hunger and being misunderstood. There seems to be no reprieve for being a poet.”

To be sure, one of his goals, when he embraced his calling, was to take it where pop music could go.
“It was not easy, but I managed to do so. Now I am more particular about writing legacy pieces that define me as a poet and not as a pop star.”

He doesn’t shy away from admitting that he sometimes felt relegated as a pioneer of a craft. It is a reality that most pioneers live with. He explained it this way: “Usually, the next set will see something that you don’t and take advantage of it. And usually, the pioneer is unable to do what it takes to change. This is the situation for pioneers. But not all. In some instances, a pioneer benefits from their labour. A few times, though. If a pioneer is young or holds on then, they end up benefiting, or they can end up being a fool for trying to compete with those they opened the door for. It’s a dicey call.

“I have seen those who came after me enjoying some benefits I only dreamed of. I am happy. I have the joy of a father. There are those whose pride would not allow them to acknowledge my position, but it’s alright. I know who I am and what I have done. Like one poet said, ‘ God gives me what I’m worth.’”

Despite the growing fame of the spoken word, Hasson fears that the economics do not match the dynamics, leading to stunted growth.
“There are too few poets making any economic sense from this. Too few. The majority are doing it for the love of it. So yes, I have seen Spoken Word all over from Jos to Lapai (my hometown), Port Harcourt, Aba, and I’m sure some little hamlet with a name that may not be on any map. I only wish somehow we will find a way to make poets make something off of this.”

A piece of advice he often gives to upcoming artistes is that they should be prepared for a life of a ‘suffering’ artiste.
“You must have a passion for the beauty of images and emotion and the brevity of art. You must be willing to be under-appreciated, under-paid, but sometimes revered and respected. Be ready to read, to feel, to think, to write, to practice elocution if necessary.”
He considers the greatest challenge of performing art to be its utilisation.

“People do not know how well to utilise the art form, so we are mostly reduced to performing at art clubs and some events. It is no one’s fault – it is the nature of poetry to be elitist and difficult sometimes. My goal was to simplify it, oversimplify it actually so anyone could access it and then it can grow into hitherto unavailable channels.”
A good spoken word poet must be able to use his tools and devices such as rhyme, verses, imagery, mood, outstandingly, according to Hasson. This, he said, is what differentiates them from a regular orator.

“They must not only be present, but they should be present. It’s like saying you are cooking jollof rice, and you don’t have all the ingredients needed to make it tasty. You might not enjoy the meal. You can make do with some if not all the ingredients are available. The flip side is you can have all the tools and devices and still write an uninteresting piece. At the end of the day, what matters is the judicious and wise use of what you need to cook a poem that will interest the palate of your audience. The cooking is all in the dexterity of the chef,” he explained.
Notwithstanding the shortcomings of his career, Hasson is unlikely to trade his craft for something else. The potency of words still excites him to date.

“The life it gives to words. The power inherent in it. The way you can say simple words and move people to desire, anger, fear, pain, empathy and how you can say words you wrote in the privacy of your room but that speaks the thoughts of the audience in a room exactly. That’s powerful,” he noted emphatically.