By Richard Odilu
That sunny Sunday afternoon gave no warning of the heavy downpour that sent people scampering for shelter from the rain as I seized the opportunity to have my siesta. I had barely slept when a call woke me up. The caller, an editor of a popular blog wanted me to attend the movie premiere of ‘Tango with Me’ at the Silverbird Cinemas, Victoria Island. Sleep disappeared fast.
I arrived the venue late because the notice came late so I missed the red carpet event but was in luck to start the movie with other invited guests.
When the movie ended I was very proud of Genevieve as always. Her portrayal of a newly wedded wife who got raped in front of her husband (played by Benjamin Joseph) on their honeymoon was flawless. Hate or like her, she is in a different league, way above many established acts, and the rookie Benjamin won my respect as well for not being intimidated by her star qualities.
A while later I was on the red carpet running after the likes of Monalisa Chinda, Emem Isong, Kunle Afolayan, Onyeka Onwenu, and Benjamin Joseph to get their pictures. But my mind kept reminding me that the shots would be incomplete without Genevieve, as I looked around for her to no avail. Then I wondered why a major act in a movie would miss its premiere.
When I had given up on seeing her, the sound of a broken glass startled me. Alas! It was the diva herself whose hands a glass cup had slipped from, and she almost tripped as someone caught and steadied her. Quickly, she was surrounded by fans and her colleagues as they ensured her safety. Her facial expression somewhat displayed embarrassment. I fixed my gaze on her revamped look – she could pass for eighteen years old, conveniently, no wonder she keeps getting the love roles. To me this is how a star ought to look like, not gather fats everywhere like some people do as if it is the dividend of an investment.
Alas! My moment to invade her has come as I thought of how to approach her.
Wondering where she had come out from as the paparazzi’s were observing her rather than take a quick shot, I approached her and requested she posed with the director, Ali Mahmoud Balogun, Joseph Benjamin, and a few stars around. She looked at me with the expression of ‘you really have guts’ but obliged me all the same. As I set my camera I was suddenly surrounded by other cameramen with their more sophisticated camera as they feasted on my catch.
I mumbled curses at the scavengers as I joined them, but ‘madam superstar’ I guess didn’t seem excited about the picture session as she showed no excitement and tried to look away at every turn. That got me thinking if she was still upset about the broken glass episode or about the fact she was accessed easily by people she hardly knew or may be something else.
When no one bothered her again she smartly excused herself to go be with Onyeka Onwenu, and a white lady, as they rapped away. I reasoned that it was the moment to interview her, even though I hadn’t it in mind to do so when I left my house that day.
As soon as I was convinced, I waited patiently my turn but noticed a bouncer and a guy that had Bluetooth strapped to one of his ears that I may refer to as an aide-de-camp, both of them waiting on her. After clearing with them I was allowed access, for six minutes, informing me that I had to be swift about it as she was ready to go.
She obliged me, a second time; although I could sense her impatience from her body movement, but her face this time did not betray her emotions. She answered every question I threw her way. The only snag was her bouncer who kept fending off the midget I used as if I wanted to throw a bomb in her mouth or may be to prove he was really working for his money. Unperturbed, I engaged her for twelve minutes.
My encounter with her only reinforce the ritual she has to undergo on a daily basis, according to Oprah Winfrey, as the Julia Roberts of Africa, whether she likes it or not.
