On: The Massive Weight of Awe-inspiring Resolve
This article is best enjoyed while listening to the song "No Matter What" by Boyzone - https://youtu.be/7eul_Vt6SZY
You have to admit that there’s something awe-inspiring about someone who knows exactly what they want and goes for it. Even more inspiring is when that person has all the odds seemingly stacked against them and yet stays on course simply because they believe in what they are after.
At this point, this already sounds like I’m speaking with regard to a myriad of grass-to-grace tales that you must have heard a million times already. You know the type: the underdog pushing their way through the thickened bushes of adversity to finally emerge on the other side where the grass is proverbially greener. We all love such stories. They make us believe in the human capacity for achieving the phenomenal. Yet we also often dread these stories, because they sometimes remind us of our own shortcomings.
The Sensational Oluwadamilare Pamilerinayo Matthew
I can’t say exactly when his notoriety reached its fever peak. In all honesty, I didn’t bother to do any research on it. However, I bet that if you’re reading this and are a frequent Twitter user or at least active in the Twitterverse, then the name “Deeman” would likely not be new to you.
Deeman, whose real name is Oluwadamilare Pamilerinayo Matthew is a viral sensation that has caught the eye and stolen the heart of many folks online, especially his Nigerian kins. And the best part about his almost meteoric rise to online fame in the past couple of months is that at the start of it all, no one —and I mean absolutely no one— took him seriously (most still don’t).
Deeman’s internet notoriety began when he started freestyling to instrumentals of popular afrobeat songs online and recorded himself on video doing it. While this act in itself might not seem so novel in this social media age (since almost everyone does this in some variation), his came with something extra —his freestyles were actually bad. Like really bad. To give you an idea of how bad, think “Vic-O’s vocals meshed with a Yoruba accent but without the abroad swag”.
Before writing this, I went back to watch some of his earlier videos, and I could feel the elitist in me cringe as I listened. He sang off beat. His voice sounded crass and monotone. He also often rapped/sang mostly in English, which you could tell was not a language he was very comfortable with; and his intonation and rendition were marred heavily by his Yoruba accent. More than anything, he didn’t even have the looks that would have made the hilarity of his failed musical efforts seem at all bearable. It was obvious on seeing some of his earlier videos just why so many people could not be blamed for having brushed his efforts as a complete joke —a parody of what true musical talent should be.
As expected, on most of his videos, the replies were often riddled with laughing emojis and sarcastic remarks. There were people egging him on and sarcastically calling him “the best there ever was”. Others went to town in his mentions, playfully tagging prominent musical artists and producers to his posts, asking them to bear witness to the “skills” of this “unique” musical talent. His was one of those interactions that no matter how sensitive you are to the idea of online trolls and bullies, some part of you might have silently deemed it a bit okay to get off your high moral horse and laugh at this wannabe rapper/musician. You may have even found yourself scoffing at the fact that there was a possibility people around him were failing to tell him the truth about his talents —or a lack of it.
And you’d be permitted to feel that way. I did at first. I remember watching a video of him singing and shaking my head at the damage I strongly believed he was doing to what was already a great song. However, the more videos of him that came across my Twitter timeline, the more I noticed something weird about this fellow called “Deeman”.
Unafraid & Unbroken
Truthfully, I may have noticed this a couple of times but paid little to no attention to it. It turns out that Deeman was as chill with the hatred and mockery as anyone can be about something so terrible. He bore no ill-will towards anybody, regardless of whatever was being said with respect to his videos. Indeed, in all of his viral videos, you’d most likely find him replying to mocking and demeaning comments with nothing short of gracious gratitude and a smiling emoji. And like I said, I had noticed him doing this a few times but the more his videos popped up on my TL, the more it became clear that despite the trolls, jokes, mockery, and all the things that make the internet such a fun hubris of dysfunction and hate, Deeman had somehow found the ability to rise above all of it.
When someone commented about him not being talented, you are likely to catch Deeman replying with the words “I’ll keep improving so I can get better.” When another person would sarcastically hail him as the next best thing to look out for, Deeman was likely to dab that person up, virtually, without taking offense at what I’m certain he knew was just mockery. Now, this wouldn’t be so shocking if his personal backstory mirrored something like that of, say, a DJ Cuppy —another person who the internet tends to mock with regards to her musical talents and forays. However, Deeman’s backstory is one that does not have a billionaire father as a backbone to help him pursue his dreams regardless of his lack of any actual musical talent. Instead, as per the short video story recorded by Multimedia Storyteller, Ayo Adams, Deeman’s father is merely a tipper truck driver who hasn’t had a truck to drive for over ten years, and his mother is a fish trader.
I know how all of these sound, trust me. It sounds very mushy and I can tell that as you’re reading this, some part of you already feels sorry for him and his circumstance. I would too. In fact, I did for a while until Ayo Adams had turned the camera on Deeman himself during the interview and the only thing that oozed out of this young man was a palpable self-belief that —in all honesty— I was madly jealous of. In the interview, he laughs when asked to introduce himself and instead of saying the name “Deeman” he goes to state his full government name. When pressed further about this, he smiles genially and finally proceeds to confirm his name “Deeman.” He goes further to explain that the name was basically a stretched-out variation of saying “D man” as in “I’m THE man”. As he says this, I could almost feel my inside turn with shame when I compared the ingenuity of his stage name with mine back in my varsity days of rap.
Kindred Spirits but Distant Relatives
I would never compare myself as a rapper back in 2012 in the University of Nigeria, Nsukka with Deeman the viral sensation of today, simply because, despite our amateurish drive for musically notoriety, there’s a lot that separates us. For one thing, I have never gone viral despite having an almost similar self-belief as he does. Another thing, when I decided to dabble into the art of rap, I only ever got a barrage of positive reinforcement and support. I was dubbed as actually talented by my peers. I was able to write lyrics that seemed almost intelligent enough to be considered “dope” in the rap world, and I also had a vocal delivery that was quite good, even for a low-pitched-sounding person like myself. No one, ever told me to pack it up and stop rapping because I sucked. In fact, the opposite was the case: I was told I had the stuff in me and all I needed was to keep pushing.
Another key difference between myself and Deeman was that I never recorded anything that I wasn’t certain was up to par with what I considered the standard for rapping back then. I remember I’d spend time in the studio trying to perfect my voice and delivery and ensuring that every minute of my paid studio time was worth every penny of the pocket money spent on it. I wanted to be more than just a fellow who liked rapping; I wanted to be a star. Deeman on the other hand, it would appear, cares little about any standards. His viral videos are often set in the backdrop of an uncompleted building that turns out to be his home where he resides with his parents and siblings. With all his video releases, you could never sense that he was trying too hard to meet a certain standard even though his delivery was bland. Somehow, you could almost tell that Deeman was just, dare I say, being himself.
And that is the pivotal point where he and I diverge in our kindred spiritedness of music. In my rapping days, I wanted to be so much like the dudes I looked up to. My sense of improvement was tied to how much better my punchlines sounded as opposed to anything else. My spending days writing lyrics and trying to find the perfect words were not coming from a place of joy or inspiration but from a place of performative self-belief. Deeman on the other hand, with all his videos, you could sense that he was just trying to have fun with what he was doing. In recording those videos in his home —not concerned about going to affluent locations with more appealing backdrops— you get a sense that somehow this music thing was a welcome escape from the everyday struggle of his life; a life that would have otherwise easily turned him into a street thug or worse.
I believe this is partly why he seems almost unfazed by the negative comments or mockery that is often thrown his way by the multitude of naysayers. He understands that in his own little world, he’s dreaming of something greater, and just because the rest of the world cannot see it that shouldn’t imply that it isn’t there.
Taking In The Moments
In the moments after watching the video by Ayo Adams about Deeman, I found myself thinking back to what could have been if I had been equipped with the sort of
mental tenacity that Deeman seems to possess. Would anything have been different if I wasn’t too concerned about how the world perceived my supposed talent but instead focused more on finding joy in what I chose to do? Chances are, maybe a lot would have been different, and maybe nothing would have changed either. My point though is that unlike me, it is awe-inspiring to see Deeman constantly make the choice to stick with what brings him joy and care little about how the world and its many naysayers perceive him.
In the interview with Ayo Adams, Deeman says he wants to learn all about music. He says he’s learning to play the keyboard and drums and when asked if he’d like to further his education, he firmly says “yes” but clarified that he’d be studying music if that were ever to happen. His father was interviewed as well and when asked if he believes Deeman would improve as time goes on, his response in Yoruba was as religious as it was poignantly aspirational: “when a person relies on God, nothing is impossible. Everything God created is beautiful. When a person involves god in whatever they do, and pray, he will make a way”.
Even as an unbeliever, I couldn’t help myself from saying a silent “amen” in response to that prayer. Some part of me is hoping that whatever deity or god Deeman’s parents pray to, an answer should be forthcoming.
There’s something awe-inspiring about someone who knows exactly what they want, goes for it, and never lets anything stop their stride. Even more inspiring is when that person is a nineteen-year-old boy called “Oluwadamilare”, who, against all the odds seemingly stacked in front of him —including, but not limited to, constant online ridicule— chooses to stay on course in pursuing a dream that the rest of the world is confident is beyond his reach or talent.
I am rooting for that nineteen-year-old. And I’m sure the twenty-one-year-old rapper version of me is as well.
Cheers
Fantastic as usual. What strikes me most about Deeman is the singularity of purpose and how he's putting everything into his act.
He's not worried about any other thing but getting heard. Watching the quality of his output rise is a lesson to me in focusing on the work. I don't think his circumstance is particularly responsibility for his singularity of purpose but I know it helps him persevere and it give him focus. I pray God makes a way for him.
Cheers.