SPECIAL REPORT: Son of Mercy- How Davido Has Survived Every Obstacle Life Has Thrown At Him

You really don’t want Davido‘s life.

Google his name now and what you see is a lot of news stories about friends of his dying, police inviting him to make a statement about his involvement and lack thereof, his first baby mama wishing him well and a thousand other truths, half-truths, and outright falsehoods. Not to mention the Lagos State Commissioner of Police reading out Davido’s home address in front of a few cameras that parlayed into a billion eyeballs around the world. Nice job Sherlock.

The easy (and to be fair, uncharitable) thought to fans and nonfans alike would be the Donald Trump way: he knew what he signed up for. Yet when JAY-Z delivered the above line on his Kingdom Come album, he was 37 years old- ten years removed from his first album and at least twenty away from his drug-dealing life. With half a billion dollars to his name at the time, he described the fame his career had attracted as worse than a heroin addiction. Imagine what it would feel like to a 24-year-old Nigerian artiste who has seen and experienced everything life has to offer in only six short years. Again for context: the almighty JAY-Z who is arguably the most powerful hip-hop artiste in the world, did not release his first album until he was 26 years old.

In the light of his recent travails-three of his friends passing away in one week- it is convenient, like several people have done, to point fingers at him and say he had it coming. Afterall, the man lives better than 90% of Nigerians do. He already has more money than many of us would see in a lifetime- and he’s not apologetic for it at all. On the contrary, he’s in-your-face: always flaunting his cars and jewellery and rockstar lifestyle. It’s hard to be sympathetic when he’s always shouting about the 30 billion naira his father allegedly has. The schadenfreude that followed is a normal reaction of a people oppressed and (rightly or wrongly) see wealthy people as ‘the enemy’. There’s a Nigerian phrase for that: onpe! Na God catch am…

But when you peel back all the layers, Davido’s life- for all the private jets and diamond chains and dollars he shows off on Instagram- could be less dramatic. And he too would have preferred it simpler, if it was all in his control.

The rich also cry

Davido’s father was one of those men whose wealth was understated. At 60, Dr. Adedeji Adeleke has been a billionaire for nearly half of his life. With investments in oil, shipping and real estate; a wider section of the Nigerian populace only got to know of his wealth courtesy of his youngest son’s moniker: Omo Baba Olowo. The son of a rich man. Again unlike his elder brother who became Governor of Osun State the year Davido was born, Adeleke was content to stay away from the spotlight and enjoy his life in peace and tranquillity. His youngest son took all of that away.

It’s not certain that Dr Adeleke could have done much about it. His last born child was the apple of his eye, one he had never said no to- except for the one time he had him ‘arrested’. The February issue of FADER, Davido tells of his three-month abscondment from the American university his father had sent him to.

‘Dr. Adedeji Adeleke, a well-known businessman and Seventh-day Adventist in Nigeria with an estimated net worth of over $300 million, dropped him off with his passport, $2,000 cash, and freshman registration documents for Oakwood University….  After three semesters, he dropped out and left town without telling his father. First he went to Atlanta, where he used his older brother’s ID to get into clubs, and funneled the money Chief Adeleke sent for school and living expenses toward drinks and motels. Later, he threw out his SIM card and hopped on a plane to London, where he went MIA for several months as he shifted his focus from production to vocals.  Chief Adeleke, meanwhile, had been on the hunt for his son. When Davido finally returned to Lagos in 2011, with new tattoos and piercings, his father had him apprehended by police officers at the airport.’

The daring precociousness was nothing any of David’s four older siblings had tried before. But David was special, unwittingly enabled by the father himself.

You see, Davido’s mother died three months after his tenth birthday. Dr Veronica was the official Adeleke wife. The man had had a number of wives before her and her two children, Sharon and David were the youngest. Like a true African, Chief Adeleke was polygamous, and in the true spirit of the Nigerian ‘Baby Boy’, often polyamorous. As a result of the Adeleke household, whilst not superficial in the least, was held together by the money, not necessarily strong familial bonds.

Research has shown that the effects of losing a parent at such a young age are far-reaching and complex, more so when the parent is the primary caregiver. The grief never quite ends, the child just finds ways to deal with his loss. A Livestrong article quotes the National Association of School Psychologists thus: ‘Some of the psychological effects of parental loss on adolescents include withdrawal, relying on friends more than family or difficulty separating from the surviving parent. Adolescents might withdraw from others and process their feelings on their own, but they also often seek out friends or family members for comfort. Sometimes, adolescents who are having extreme difficulty with their feelings of grief might act out in unhealthy ways, such as by experimenting with drugs or alcohol.’

Two things stand out above: one, the loss of a parent may influence the child to start experimenting with drugs and alcohol. (Davido has never hidden his affinity for alcohol and weed). More importantly, the child finds it difficult to separate from the surviving parent.

After David’s mum died, his father filled that gap by providing every material thing a youngster could need- while battling his own demons as well. (He would have a couple more marriages and divorces in the following years). In a Keek video still online, a young Davido is seen showing off his father’s expansive Lagos mansion with its fleet of cars. At a point, he’s seen hugging his father while the older man tried to extricate himself from his grip. ‘We have to go, David… we’re late’, Adeleke said, glancing at his watch. Only then did Davido let go, saying proudly to the camera ‘He said something…’