Ali Baba:The Undeniable Power of Humour

Being in Ali Baba’s presence requires a sense of appreciation for humour. Far from being a casual affair for this pioneering stand-up comedian, Ali Baba talks comedy just about the same way others talk about power, with care and consciousness of what it can reveal and unsettle. Vanessa Obioha had a recent encounter with the veteran comedian who wears multiple hats, writes about his philosophy and while maintaining a die-hard power in an ever-changing industry.

On the day the veteran comedian Atunyota Alleluya Akpobome, better known as Ali Baba, was finally available for an interview, Lagos tested my sense of humour. It rained heavily, as it often does in Lagos, slowing traffic on Ahmadu Bello Way to a crawl on the way to Eko Hotels and Suites, our meeting place on Victoria Island. I ended up arriving thirty minutes late.

If the irony amused him, Ali Baba did not say. He waited patiently in his car until I arrived. He did not joke about the delay. He understandably accepted my apology. That restraint would stay with me.

To be in Ali Baba’s presence is to understand that humour, for him, is not a casual affair. He speaks about comedy the way others talk about power, carefully aware of what it can reveal and what it can unsettle. It is not just about provoking laughter for a few seconds. It is rather about what that laughter says about the people laughing.

“Comedy is the truth you tell when people’s mouths are open,” he said.

Laughter, the Delta State-born comedian believes, is a social reflex. What people laugh at, and what they are willing to accept as humour, reveals their maturity. In this sense, the comedian becomes both a mirror and a measure, testing boundaries and reflecting society back to itself. “The role of a comedian goes beyond entertainment,” he said. “A comedian is a social critic, an activist. He uses his platform — whether on stage, in drawing or other creative forms to interrogate society.”

He illustrated this with examples drawn from history. During the military regime of Ibrahim Babangida, Ali Baba recalled, the former head of state once teased the inspector general of police over his inability to capture the notorious bandit Lawrence Anini, who terrorised Benin City in the 1980s. The joke worked because it spoke to a shared reality, one that the public already understood.

That belief also shapes how he sees other creative forms. Musicians, he insisted, are often comedians in disguise. Fela Anikulapo-Kuti, whom many remember primarily as a political firebrand, was also deeply funny, he said. “If you attended his Yabis Night, you would know,” Ali Baba said. “You hear it in his lyrics.”

He counts Timi Dakolo, Kizz Daniel, the late Sound Sultan, Innocent ‘2Baba’ Idibia, Prince Nico Mbarga, and others among the funniest people he knows—sometimes funnier, he added pointedly, than practising comedians. Tunji Alapini, the retired Assistant Inspector General of Police (AIG) and the founder of Nigeria’s premier lottery and gaming company, Baba Ijebu, Kessington Adebutu, also made his list of funny people.

Perhaps, this clarity about comedy’s role may explain Ali Baba’s unusual staying power in an industry that constantly reinvents itself. When he ventured into stand-up comedy in the late 1980s, the genre was still rare. Comedy was largely confined to master-of-ceremonies duties or supporting roles on variety shows. There were familiar names like  Bisi Olatilo, Patrick Doyle, among others, and Ali Baba appeared on some of their programmes. But few imagined comedy as a full-time profession.

He, , did.

Undeterred by the rarity of his kind, at a time when others treated humour as a side gig, Ali Baba was committed fully to it. It was a decision that would slowly position him as the industry’s go-to name, not only for corporate events, but eventually for presidential dinners. Nowadays, when people talk about stand-up comedy, they see him.

Ali Baba was famously the only comedian who could joke openly about Obasanjo without consequence. Others who tried were quickly reminded of the limits of humour.

His relationship with former president and military head of state Olusegun Obasanjo remains one of the most striking illustrations of comedy’s reach in Nigeria’s power corridors. Their relationship, he told me, went beyond performance as our conversation was laced with generous mentions of the former president.

He described himself, half-jokingly, as Obasanjo’s “court jester” during the former president’s tenure. “It got to a point where Baba became like my Chief Marketing Officer,” he recalled. “If he was invited somewhere and the engagement lasted more than a day, he would insist on a presidential dinner, and that I must be invited.”

Obasanjo’s appreciation of Ali Baba’s comedy, he believes, came from exposure to a different register of humour than the one he encountered during his military years. More importantly, he said, the former president possessed a sense of humour that outpaced those around him. “He scaled it up,” Ali Baba noted. “That’s why governors and presidents began inviting comedians to their events.”

Presidents Muhammadu Buhari and Bola Tinubu, he added, also possess an often-overlooked sense of humour. “Humour,” Ali Baba said, “is what douses the strength and potency of a harsh situation.”

That philosophy extends beyond Nigeria. Ali Baba places comedy within a longer Black tradition of survival and resistance. During the transatlantic slave trade, he argued, humour became a rare avenue for expression. “Only those who could make their masters laugh were allowed to speak,” he said. “That was how comedy became a form of freedom.”

As enslaved Africans carried storytelling traditions into new worlds, those narratives evolved. “Most of the storytellers taken out of Africa,” he said, “were the ones who created stand-up comedy.” Today, he pointed out, Black stand-up comedians are among the highest-paid entertainers globally.

Waxing philosophical, he said: “Laughter is a very strong tool that you can use to strengthen people. A professor of behavioural science once said that, to understand the people, find out the things they laugh about, and when you listen to comedians in any environment, you can tell how the people’s minds and maturity have gotten through what they laugh about.”

As he spoke, his air of assurance filled the room. That could only come from years of reading rooms and measuring response. He is the kind who quickly observes his audience and times himself precisely, delivering jokes that endure without resorting to recklessness or cruelty.

With the comedy industry constantly changing, thanks to seismic shifts in technology and taste, Ali Baba’s influence is still relevant. He does not join the bandwagon that undermines the digital skit makers today, although he pointed out that skit-making is not entirely new. 

“It is what Mr Bean and Charlie Chaplin used to do then,” he said. What has changed, he acknowledged, is scale and speed.

During the COVID-19 lockdowns, skit-making exploded. For Ali Baba, this was inevitable. “The humour that people churn out every time does not just satisfy the person who tells them. It helps a lot of people go through their trying moments,” he said. “That’s why it boomed.”

“The truth is that,” he added, “it’s impossible to go through life without a sense of humour.”

He is equally firm in rejecting the stereotype of comedians as unserious. “That era is gone,” he said. “Look at Ukraine. The president was a comedian.”

Ali Baba’s own résumé supports the point. Beyond comedy, he has worked in advertising, spoken across professional platforms, written scripts, acted in films, consulted for businesses and engaged actively in policy conversations. Under the Buhari administration, his appointment as chairman of the Creative Industry Committee contributed to the renovation of the National Theatre, now renamed the Wole Soyinka Centre for Culture and Creative Arts. He has also served as a political strategist, often behind the scenes.

Empowerment, however, remains central to his legacy. Through his Spontaneity show (now rested), Ali Baba has rewarded emerging talents with cash prizes and cars.

“I started the Spontaneity show because I knew that spontaneity is the holy grail of comedy. The best comedian is not the one who prepares his jokes. No, he is the one who is spontaneous. Once you give him the mic, he can reel out jokes. A  comedian is only as good as his last joke.”

His talk show, Alibaba Seriously, now in its second season, reflects a similar intentionality. Unlike conventional late-night formats, the programme airs on weekends, allowing it to absorb the week’s events and reach audiences beyond Nigeria. The response, he said, has been strong enough to prompt viewers to resubscribe to cable platforms just to watch.

Perhaps his most ambitious empowerment platform is the annual January 1st concert, a part celebration, part social intervention. A potpourri of sorts, the event has honoured first-class graduates, funded IVF treatments, supported entrepreneurs and even staged mock elections to spark civic conversations. One year, Ali Baba recalled, a hypeman won the competition and left with ₦3 million, only to receive an additional ₦10 million from audience members moved by his performance.

“It’s really not about laughter anymore, it’s about impact.”

His upcoming January 1st concert will focus on pageantry.

“The pageantry is to promote the people who are into modelling and bodybuilding. There will be no makeup; come as you are. The people will decide.”

A whopping sum of N2.5 million will be given to the winner in each category.

As we rounded off our discussion, I inquired about his choice to expand his family last year when he and his wife, Mary, welcomed triplets.

“My triplets came as a result of an empty nest. The youngest of the children was already going to boarding school, and Madam thought the house was getting empty. I  love children.”

Giving back, he emphasised, is not optional. Over the years, his quiet philanthropy has included paying rents, settling school fees and supporting people in ways that often surprise even him.

As he puts it: “If your success doesn’t make other people successful, you have failed.”