Noiseless Radio
Adedeji is quite certain: it is technological inventions—new tools, gadgets, and devices—that are the true engine and driving force behind human progress.
All other forms of development—social, economic, political, cultural, military—you name it—are merely by-products of technological advancement.
Take, for example, the printing press of the 15th century, which changed the world. Or electricity. Or the steam engine. Or medicine. And more recently, the “smartphone”—or more accurately, the tiny computer we now carry in our pockets.
"Nigeria is no different from the rest of the world." This is what Adedeji says.
Back in those days, people in Nigeria had no real way of knowing what was happening around the world—or even within Nigeria itself.
The only piece of technology that gave ordinary Nigerians a window into the world was the battery-powered transistor radio.
These radios picked up shortwave signals from far-off lands, allowing people to hear music, sports commentary, and news—both local and international.
Now, this transistor radio was a small box, powered by batteries. Inside the magic box were wires and all sorts of mysterious parts. And with this marvel, you could pick up broadcasts from all corners of the globe.
Unfortunately, in Nigeria, there were always issues. The shortwave transistors were full of static and interference. Trying to tune in to the BBC or a music station was a noisy, frustrating affair. Just too many krrrzzzzhhhkkk and ssshhhhrrrrr.
One day, Adedeji brings me a Nigerian newspaper focused on science and technology—both global and local. He points excitedly to an article announcing a revolutionary new invention.
An inventor named Amandi Iboro from Okitipupa—a small town somewhere in southern Nigeria—had developed something extraordinary: a noiseless radio.
A truly important breakthrough. After all, Nigerians had long struggled to pick up even scraps of information from the outside world. Their only source was the poor, crackling transistor radios. Amandi’s invention promised to change all that.
The newspaper has a whole section on radio, music, and television—a surprisingly engaging read. One article ponders the link between loud music and young people. Another wonders whether soft music appeals more to older folks—and if so, why?
Yet another piece asks: are we genetically programmed to enjoy certain music and reject others? Of course, preferences are shaped by childhood, culture, and lived experience—but the article suggests there’s something deeper at play.
For example, it claims that most humans instinctively dislike certain sounds—like the hissing of a snake. That suggests there’s a common auditory baseline for all people. And if some sounds are universally disliked, then perhaps some sounds—or harmonies—are universally pleasing too.
“How do you prove such a theory?” the article asks.
The newspaper proposes an experiment: take a group of people with similar backgrounds, play them five obscure, unpopular pieces of music—and one well-known classic, such as Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata. Odds are, most people will gravitate toward the sonata.
Why? Is it genetic? Evolutionary? Is it because, in nature, some sounds indicate danger—while others suggest food or safety? The chirping of certain birds, for example, might mean there’s water nearby.
In short, it’s a serious newspaper. Meant for intelligent readers. And the more intelligent people are, the more curious they tend to be.
But back to the main story—the one that got Adedeji so excited he brought me the paper in the first place.
How Amandi Iboro, after extensive research, was able to develop such a wonder. The article praises Amandi Iboro’s cutting-edge invention, claiming he developed a technology far superior to anything made by the Oyinbo—the peeled people from Europe.
Imagine: a radio that works without static, interferences and noises. A truly groundbreaking achievement. In fact, that article itself made a lot of noise.
According to the article, Amandi Iboro built his noiseless radio using nothing but fruits and vegetables—mostly purple onions and cassava tubes.
The reporter is then asked Amandi Iboro to demonstrate how the radio works without noises.
“Do you have a preferred station?” Amandi Iboro asked the reporter.
The reporter replied, “The BBC.”
Amandi nodded solemnly and said:
“Look, Ogah (sir), at this stage, the radio can’t actually pick up any stations. Yet. What I’ve done so far is solving the noise problem. For now. Reception is… still in development.
“But if you really want to hear the BBC,” he added, “try adding a banana. And a small piece of coconut.
“Especially coconut.”