a night with davido and a conversation with my dad

yep, this ticket’s gonna be a family legend 😂

on the 21st of november 1992, the world welcomed a boy who wasn’t supposed to bend culture or shift the atmosphere simply by existing — yet he did.

mr and mrs adedeji and veronica adeleke held their fourth child, little david, with the simple expectations parents hold close: school, a degree, a steady life, maybe a path in academia or business like them.

but sometimes God writes destinies with a louder ink, and nature follows gently behind. and so, a star was born — quiet in the beginning, thunderous in his becoming.

years moved like pages in a book, and that child grew into the sound that would define a generation. today, he stands as one of africa’s best-selling artistes, plaques on plaques, a legacy that refuses to slow down.

it’s funny… i wanted to talk about a small conversation my dad and i had about davido’s show in uyo. but for some reason, the words wouldn’t come — like they were waiting for a day that meant something. and now i understand why.

today is his birthday. the universe has a way of arranging moments like beads on a string, aligning them when it matters most. davido has many names — 001, OBO, baddest, and the one his mother whispered first: david. each name means something different to someone else. but for me… it goes deeper.

my affection for him isn’t surface-level. it’s layered, rooted in memories planted long before i even understood what music could do to a heart.

when i was younger, i’d always hover around my mom when she used her phone. every time a davido video showed up, she paused — not once, not twice, always. she’d skip others, but david’s face? she lingered.

maybe that’s where it started for me, even though i didn’t realise it then. and then there’s november. november carries its own magic.

LTG — fireboy’s debut album — dropped on the 29th of november. davido was born on the 21st of november. and me? i was born on the 29th of november too.

tell me why i shouldn’t feel connected. tell me the month isn’t stitched into my spirit. november feels like a soft bond tying me to these people, even if it’s superstition — i know my truth.

my friends and cousins always shaded him for this and that — the voice, the awards, the shows. typical arguments. but it never touched me. somewhere, somehow, i became 30BG without even noticing. am i proud? hell yeah.

my love for him isn’t just about music. it’s about humanity. people say musicians aren’t religious — i understand where that thought comes from — but mannn, i keep praying for him.

because beyond the fame, beyond the noise, he’s a man with a big heart. humble, even with all the privilege he was born into. if music didn’t exist, i’d still respect him simply for being a good human being.

then came the moment that changed everything for me. on the 26th of october, he kick-started his 5ive alive tour in nigeria, and somehow, his first stop was akwa ibom. akwa ibom? my akwa ibom? no way.

the moment i saw the post on tiktok, something in my spirit said, i’m going. how? i didn’t know. money? parents? location? all those things were screaming, bro rest, this one no go happen. but the desire didn’t leave.

two days to the show, i opened my opay and saw 12k sitting there like a small miracle 😂 since i mostly use my uba app, i didn’t even notice. and as if God planned the timing Himself, my dad traveled out of the state.

the concert was on sunday, so getting to the stadium suddenly didn’t look impossible. honestly, it felt like God parted the red sea just so i could see david.

long story short, i went. and God bless that day because i saw 001 live. the energy, the presence, the light — everything made sense. i had other plans for that day, but clearly, it wasn’t their time yet.

two days after the concert, my dad returned. we were in the sitting room, just chilling, when with you by davido came on. the moment he heard it, he recognised the song. and just like that, he looked at me and said:

“so i heard davido came to akwa ibom.”

i said, “yeah.”

then he added, “so people will leave their houses just to go see a human being jump and shout on stage? even the senate president, akpabio, left abuja to come and receive a small boy?”

i just laughed. but inside me, i was like, daddy if only you knew.

we talked about it for a while — and honestly, i loved it. not because we were talking about music or davido, but because it was the first real, warm conversation my dad and i had in a long time that wasn’t about school or church.

it meant something to me. and he still doesn’t know i actually went for the concert. if he did, e for loud 😅 but my dad calling OBO a small boy? that one still dey shock me.

because who’s going to tell daddy that:

• obo is the first nigerian artiste to score six straight no. 1 songs for six consecutive years.
• fall became the first afrobeats track to surpass 200 million views on youtube.
• he was the first african to receive the bet award for best international act on the main stage.

and those are just a few. this man has been shaping the music space for over a decade. baddest is no small boy.

and now, as he turns 33 today, i just want to say: davido may never see this, but may God bless him real good. may joy never leave his home, may peace surround him, may his light never dim.

shekpe!!!