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Jimi Solanke, Wasiu Ayinde and the cartoon called Nigeria

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Tunde Odesola

Jimi Solanke, Wasiu Ayinde and the cartoon called Nigeria

Tunde Odesola

(Published in The PUNCH, on Friday, February 16, 2024)

Aníkúlápó is the man who bears death in a pouch, not Jimi Solanke. Solanke knew a braggadocious name couldn’t stop death. So, when death came calling, Solanke followed it without fear. But Solanke wasn’t afraid of death, he was afraid of life – this he told me many years ago at the backstage of the Oduduwa Hall, Obafemi Awolowo Univerity, Ile Ife, when I sneaked up on him.

It is true, time is a virus that corrupts memory. Despite its limitation, however, memory remains nature’s hard disk embedded in the skull of every mortal. And, when I bolted from the Oduduwa Hall congregation – in pursuit of Solanke – to the backstage, I never knew my inquisitiveness would someday memorialise his memory.

I can’t remember the particulars of the event that was held in the architectural wonder called Oduduwa Hall many, many years ago. But I remember Baba Agba, as Uncle Jimi Solanke was popularly called, being the moderator of the event. As his baritone soaked the hall in honey, my mind journeyed down memory lane, marvelling at the lanky enigma before the audience – the great Jimi Solanke – world-class storyteller, actor, folklorist, singer, playwright, poet, dancer, guitarist, drummer, cultural aficionado and compere extraordinaire!

“Tunde, you must interview this wizard,” I told myself. So, I bided my time, looking for a break. My lucky break came when the session went on a break, and Baba Agba sauntered backstage. I sneaked away from my reporter colleagues, melted into the shuffling crowd, and went after him.

“Good morning, sir!” “Good morning, my dear,” he replied, the glint in his eyes was welcoming. Wow!! I couldn’t believe I was talking live with Mr Voice himself. My heart raced like a rabbit in a park. “My name is Tunde Odesola; I’m from PUNCH newspapers,” I identified myself. “Oh, PUNCH, that’s my paper,” he said. “Thank you, sir,” I gushed. “It’s a dream come true talking to you, sir.” He eyed me with his big eyes.

I didn’t bring out my tape recorder yet because I didn’t want him to see me as a bother. I continued, “I thought you came out to smoke, sir” “Oh, no! I quit smoking,” he said in his rich voice. “You quit? Why? Health reasons?” I fired a threesome.

“I’ll tell you the short story. Someone died in my family and relatives converged in my house to discuss the burial. I stepped out to smoke. When I stepped back into the house, it was as if I carried faeces with me into the house. Everyone turned their noses up, looking at me as though I was a strange object. I felt embarrassed. That wasn’t the first time I would step into a gathering after smoking a cigarette, and people would feel uneasy. To make people not feel awkward by my smoking, I decided to stop. They say smokers are liable to die young, I’m no longer young, 70 is around the corner,” he said with a grin.

No matter the manner of death that kills the elderly, his cranium won’t vanish; kò sí ikú tí yíò pa àgbàlagbà, tí a ò ní bá poolo orí è. This proverb means no matter the situation, the elderly must speak the truth at all times, without fear. Solanke exemplified the letters and spirit of this proverb through his art.

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There, at the backstage of Oduduwa Hall, Solanke wasn’t afraid of telling me the truth about his struggles with smoking, he wasn’t afraid of facing the challenge too. Solanke is the citizen Nigeria desires but does not deserve.

The same thing cannot be said of Fuji music maestro, Alhaji Wasiu Ayinde, aka K1 De Ultimate. Wasiu is far beneath the league of Solanke and his kindred, Tunji Oyelana. Wasiu is the citizen Nigeria desirously deserves – tribalistic, selfish, ignorantly endowed and materialistic. The Nigerian citizen epitomised by Wasiu sees music as a means to a cash-and-carry end and not a selfless tool for social change.

In the heat of the economic hardship suffered by Nigerians during the Olusegun Obasanjo presidency, Wasiu, in 2006, lifted his voice up to God, singing unto Him to eclipse Obasanjo, “Ba wa mu baba kuro..” But Wasiu’s tongue appeared super-glued to his palate and his ears stuffed with palm oil wool when the herdsman, General Muhammadu Buhari, misruled the country for 8 years as he didn’t give Buhari, who’s the worst Nigerian leader ever, the same treatment he gave Obasanjo.

Wasiu has kept a deafening silence since the economy further nosedived after his tin god, President Bola Tinubu, assumed power in 2023. In societies emancipated from mental slavery, Wasiu’s action would’ve been met with a backlash that would affect his musical image and fortunes, but Nigeria is Babel, where the Toad’s croaking is music to the ears.

Did Solanke love children? No. He worshipped them. He dedicated his life of storytelling to them. In his programme, Story Land, Solanke would dance like a five-year-old, giggle like a preteen on his first excursion, and yet pass across his teachings with the charm of sage. Oh, how I love him!

Solanke saw the wicked world through the innocent eyes of the child and armed himself with a paddle strong enough to steer his canoe, singing on his earthly journey his songs of wisdom that include Baba Agba, Onile Gogoro, Eje ka jo, Jenrokan, Na Today You Come, among others.

Since he travelled to America after graduating from the Theatre Arts Department of the University of Ibadan in 1969, before his eventual return to Nigeria in 1986, Solanke produced many albums such as In the Beginning, Ase, Orin Orisa, Storyteller, America Has Got Magic, Multiplicity of Praise, Hidden Gold, Once Upon a Time, among others. Gesamtkunstwerk is a German word that means total art. Solanke was a Total Man, who practised Total Art, giving his totality to his art.

That was why Solanke, the voice of the narrator in the Nollywood blockbuster, Jagunjagun, was ever happy, contented and respectable. That was why he was never a servant at Bourdillon. However, this is not to say Wasiu has no class at all. Wasiu has his own class and remains a savant of Fuji, with great hits under his belt. But when compared with Solanke, shoe get size.

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At this juncture, I want to wear the Solankean robe and see the world through the eyes of a friend’s 11-year-old child. ’Busola Durojaiye was a younger colleague in the pen-pushing profession. She distinguished herself at the Osun State Broadcasting Corporation, Osogbo, in the early 2000. She has a good grasp of the sociopolitical and economic situation of Nigeria, making her my go-to person on Nigerian gists.

Last week, our talk centred on the exorbitant prices of foods, goods and services across the country. ’Busola has a wicked sense of humour. “Ara n kan everybody ni Nigeria o, everybody is touchy. Everybody is sick. Even ‘your’ daughter (name withheld) is sick,” she said. “Ha, kilo se, what’s she sick of,” I asked, worried.

“On Saturday, her boarding school housemistress called, saying Angel (not her real name) was sick with fever. The housemistress said she had been taken to the hospital for a Widal Test, whose result was being expected. I told the housemistress to give the phone to Angel,” ’Busola explained.

“When Angel came online, she said she had a high fever. Orí mi kó kó fò lo ná; I was alarmed. High fever ke? Angel said she wasn’t the only one having a high fever in the school. She said about 12 students were affected, including two of her close friends, Dab and OmoT (real names withheld). Then, in a conspiratorial tone, she said, ‘The doctor and nurse said I have no blood at all’.

“I asked her if the doctor and the nurse told the housemistress about her having no blood at all. She said no. She said the doctor and the nurse confided in her only. Angel then told me she knew the remedy to her acute blood shortage. She listed the remedy to include malt drink, ice cream and jollof rice from a particular restaurant. I told her it was blood that she needed, but she said ice cream, malt drink and jollof rice produce better blood. She said students, including her two friends, whose parents had sent money for the cure, were already getting well.

Mother sent N11,000 to daughter’s housemistress for the cure of blood shortage. When mom called the next day, Angel’s voice was clearer. “How are you feeling now, Angel?” mother asked. “Blood is returning to my body now,” she said. “How did you know blood is returning to your body,” mother queried. “I can feel it in my system,” daughter answered.

Solanke understood the ways of children. He must have loved cartoons, too. Nigeria is a huge cartoon; a cruel, unfunny joke, yoking the storyteller and his audience. At 63, Nigeria remains a child, its spine cracked by corruption, nepotism and evil leadership.

When will blood return to the veins and arteries of Nigeria? When, I ask?

Email: [email protected]

Facebook: @Tunde Odesola

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Jimi Solanke, Wasiu Ayinde and the cartoon called Nigeria

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A troubling message from Guinea-Bissau, by Azu Ishiekwene

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Azubuike Ishiekwene

A troubling message from Guinea-Bissau, by Azu Ishiekwene

A troubling message from Guinea-Bissau, by Azu Ishiekwene

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Siyan Oyeweso: Lessons in virtue and vanity

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Professor Siyan Oyeweso
Professor Siyan Oyeweso

Siyan Oyeweso: Lessons in virtue and vanity

Tunde Odesola

(Published in The PUNCH, on Friday, December 5, 2025)

H-o-r-r-o-r!? The lamp has gone out in the ancestral grove. Frightening darkness reigns. I step inside the grove, I grope on staggering steps. The gourd is broken. I saw its shattered pieces. I stagger. I can feel the wet wood, torn drum, snapped beads, burning ice, soundless speech, blind sight, lifeless breath, static motion and cold fire. I call out to the deep, but the deep does not call back. The deep is silent. The deep has become a mound. The light has gone out in the grove. Everything is cold.

Don’t our ancestors say if the load refuses to stay on the ground and rejects being hung, there’s yet a place to place it? I refuse to bury. I will perform the rites and turn back the hands of time. I beseech thee, owners of the land, heed my pleading just this once, because when the dead is invoked in the street, it is the living that answers (Ti a ba pe oku ni popo, alaye lo n dahun). Abdulgafar Siyan omo Oyeweso ooooo! Please, answer me, hearken to my chant and heed my plea. Come! Cone back, please! It is me, your little aburo, Tunde, that is calling. It is I, Odesola, your disciple.

Baba Ibeta, I refuse to refer to you in the past tense. Prof, please, I need you to do just one thing for me, real quick. I need you to remember our discussions before sickness struck. Remember our discussions when sickness struck. The one million naira you gave me on your sickbed lies doggo in my account, untouched. You said I should use it for the publication of a full-page colour advert in PUNCH for Prof Olu Aina, who is billed to bag an honorary doctorate from the Obafemi Awolowo University, Ile-Ife, the prestigious citadel of learning, which you oversee as the Pro-Chancellor and Chairman of Council. From the one million naira, you said I should place radio advertisements to announce the degree to be bestowed on the emeritus Professor Aina, Nigeria’s pioneer and distinguished scholar of Technical and Vocational Education, on December 13, 2025. I have long finished the artwork on The PUNCH advert, which you approved. I was awaiting the radio jingle being handled by ace broadcaster, Oyesiku Adelu. Now, I shall return the N1,000,000.00 to Iya Ibeta because the bowstring has snapped, and the bow has become a mere stick. Ọsán ja, ọrún dọpa.

Bọ̀dá Gàfárù, your humanity is gripping. What manner of man, lying prostrate on a sickbed, would remember to honour the living with his own money? What manner of man, stricken by a stroke, would give out N1,000,000.00 to honour a senior academic, two months before the event was to take place? What manner of man would hover between life and death, and still bend over backwards for the living? That manner of man can only be Siyan Oyeweso. He loves his fellow men and women far more than himself.

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Ẹ̀gbọ́n mí àtàtà, I weep bitter tears because I know you do not deserve to go. You do not want to embark on that returnless ‘Àrè Mabò’ journey. As your life hangs by a thread and we pray for your recovery, you said you would be grateful if the Almighty Allah gave you a second chance. You express the desire to write a book, “Siyan Oyeweso: Life After Stroke.” Also, you hope to take delivery of one of your earliest books, “Journey From Epe: A Biography of S.L. EDU,” which is out of print, but is being reprinted. Your book on Ile-Ife and the one on Ikorodu are undergoing proofreading. It’s your dream to see them to the press. In the throes of death, you still cater for the whole family. Now, Iya Ibeta is a widow. Your two-year-old triplets are fatherless. Oh Allah, this grief is unbearable.

I weep because I have whined with you in the days of famine and wined with you in the days of flourish. I’m with you in defeat and in victory. I witnessed the way you took defeat like a sportsman and celebrated victory with humility. I gnash because you are the ‘opomulero’ pillar behind my literary garden, even though I was never a pupil in the four walls of your classroom. I am the acolyte who sits at your feet after work.

Baba Òyé, I remember how we first met. Our first-ever meeting ended in a fight. That was at the palace of the 12th Timi Agbale of Ede, the late Oba Tijani Oladokun Ajagbe Oyewusi, the Agboran II, in the early 2000s. That fateful day, Oyeweso didn’t come to the palace to fight, nor did I, but the PUNCH spirit of fearless candour overtook me as I challenged what I saw as overpresumption.

Oyeweso had come to address a news conference, whose exact purpose I can’t recall, but the conference was certainly in the interest of Ede, the illustrious town Oyeweso lived for. I came to the news conference as PUNCH reporter from Osogbo, the state capital. And katakátá burst when it was question time.

Then, I was new to Osun State, having just been transferred from the Lagos headquarters of PUNCH. Oyeweso had answered a couple of questions from faces familiar to him within the Osun Correspondents chapel and was in a hurry to attend another assignment on behalf of the town. I raised my hand to ask a question. Exuding confidence and convivality, Oyeweso said everything there was to know lay in the press release shared to journalists at the conference. “No more questions, please,” he said. Anger boiled inside me. Who is this palace jester, I thought.

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“I can’t come all the way from Osogbo to be told not to ask questions here,” my anger boiled over. All heads turned in my direction, eyes piercing to see if there was a tag on my clothes suggesting I was a member of the union of road transport workers. “From where did this one stray?” the looks asked. But I continued, “I’m not going to write any story from this press release if you don’t answer my question!” Heads turned away from me to Oyeweso, who didn’t show he was rattled. He smiled, held the right hem of his agbada and folded it on his right shoulder. He did a similar folding to the left hem of his agbada, beaming his trademark ‘ẹ̀rù òbodò’ smile.

Then a journalist whispered, “He is Professor Oyeweso!” “So what!?” I shot back outside the earshot of Oyeweso. “My dear brother from PUNCH newspapers,” he began, sugar in his voice, “I do not mean to evade questions, far from it. If you know me, you would know I enjoy talking. In fact, I talk for a living. But the Timi, Oba Tijani Oyewusi, has just sent me an urgent text, demanding I run an errand, and I don’t want to keep him waiting. I’ll leave my numbers with you, so you cakl and ask any question as I run the king’s errand, please.”

That was the day our journey began. You were still a professor at Lagos State University then. This was before the Olagunsoye Oyinlola administration established the multi-campus Osun State University, and you moved back to your home state. You are the inaugural Provost, College of Humanities and Culture, UNIOSUN. Twice, you vied for the post of Vice Chancellor, UNIOSUN, and lost not for lack of competence, but to power play. The next day after each loss, you dust yourself up and trudge on as if nothing had happened.

To understand the Oyeweso enigma, picture a vehicle shaft connecting the two opposite wheels. This is why the late Ooni of Ife, Oba Okunade Sijuwade, and the late Alaafin of Oyo, Oba Lamidi Adeyemi, opened their palace doors to his erudition even though both monarchs hardly saw eye to eye on many issues. Baba Iremide’s charm infects the political board. This is why he was embraced by both Governor Oyinlola and Rauf Aregbesola, two gladiators from different political camps. Despite being from Ede, the hometown of the popular Adeleke family, Baba Adekunle stayed true to his political ideals, pitching his tent with the BATified All Progressives Congress. Their differing political alignments notwithstanding, Oyeweso did not spoil Ede, his hometown, because he was going to Ẹ̀dẹ̀, the hallway. This is why the Adeleke family maintained the communal bond by supporting him on his sickbed. Minister of Marine and Blue Economy, Alhaji Adegboyega Oyetola, supported Oyeweso before and during the sickness. In fact, it was Oyetola, aka Baba Jeje, who recommended Oyeweso for the post of Pro-Chancellor and Chairman of Council, Obafemi Awolowo University, Ile-Ife.

Your uncommon equanimity is the reason why I gave you my support when you expressed the desire to vie for the House of Representatives ticket in Ede-North-Ede-South-Egbdore-Ejigbo federal constituency. When that also fell through, I became a thorn in the flesh of Oyetola, whom I called morning, day and night, urging him to reward Oyeweso with a position. One day at a public function, an exasperated Oyetola saw Oyeweso and said, “Prof, tell Tunde Odesola to unclasp his fingernails on my neck o. I have told him repeatedly that you shall get an appointment, but he won’t leave me alone. Ha!” Shortly after the encounter, Oyeweso called me, and said, “Tunde,” I answered, “Sir!” Oyewso said, “Please, unclasp your fingernails on Oga’s neck o. We were at a function today, and Oga said, “So fun Tunde Odesola pe ko tu ekanna lorun mi o.” We both laughed. Aside from me pestering Oyetola, Baba Oluwasikemi would surely have a couple of other voices putting in words of recommendation on his behalf. So, his appointment was a collective victory for sagacity, hard work, resilience and vision.

Oyeweso was initially appointed Pro-Chancellor and Chairman of Council of the Federal University of Lokoja, Kogi State, before he was later announced as the Pro-Chancellor and Chairman of Council, OAU, in June last year. Therefore, it is not out of place to say that death did not allow Oyeweso to enjoy the fruit of his labour, affirming the philosophical thought that the world is a vanity fair. I do not believe in this philosophical thought; I believe Oyeweso’s life tramples vanity to affirm virtue.

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This is why Oyeweso blends perfectly into any setting – be it rural or urban, academic or marketplace. When you see him on the street, he could pass for a nobody. But when he mounts the podium, you hear an oracle of history. This virtue is what endears Oyeweso to the masses, and I suspect, it is one of the reasons why some of his colleagues despise him – they believe he mixes with every Tom, Dick and Harry. To this tribe of his colleagues, an academic should possess raised shoulders, a back haunched by the weight of poring over books, and a nose in the air.

I haven’t come out of mourning the Owa of Igbajo, Oba Adegboyega Famodun, when the Oyeweso disaster hit below the belt.

Where will I find another soulmate? Though we were born sired by different parents in the February of different years, Oyeweso took me as his blood brother, confiding in me his innermost wishes and fears. Who will call me “Prof Tunde? Who will come to my house unannounced? Oyewso would call my wife and say, “Hello, ma; Tunde o sun ile loni o. Odo mi lo ma sun” – “Tunde is not sleeping at home today. He’s sleeping in my house.” Then we would begin the intellectual rigour of writing and editing late into the night. The Nation Correspondent, now an oba, Kabiyesi Adesoji Adeniyi, Prince Wale Olayemi, my childhood friend, Abiodun Idowu, a psychiatrist, Temitope Ajani Fasunloye, Ismaeel Uthman, among others, participated in the rigour Oyeweso took us through – analysing and discussing. We did not do this on empty stomachs. There was plenty to eat and drink. At times, when Prof eventually allows you to go home, all you want to do is just go home and sleep. At times, I ran away from him. When I ran from him, he appeared in my house or office unannounced and says, “Ha, I caught you.”

Who would host a party for my promotion? Who would host a party for my homecoming? Death has crept upon us and taken our most prized jewel away. Oyeweso. I woke up that day around 6 a.m. I checked my phone. I saw your picture on Professor Samuel Gbadebo Odewumi’s reel. I told myself, Prof Odewumi is probably celebrating your recuperation. Still in bed, I scrolled and saw a post by Saturday Tribune Editor, Lasisi Olagunju, announcing your death.

Frantically, I checked Osun WhatsApp platforms. And there I saw the news of your passing into eternity. I then noticed I had received many calls and texts. It was dawning, but I was denying. I called. I asked questions. I blamed the Nigerian healthcare system, saying Oyeweso wouldn’t have died if he lived in an advanced country. I cited the misdiagnosis of the late Mohammed Fawehinmi in Nigeria, following his auto accident. But my oga and Managing Director/Editor-in-Chief, Mr Adeyeye Joseph, reminded me that the legendary Gani Fawehinmi, Mohammed’s father, was misdiagnosed in England.

So, I kept my mouth shut. And submitted to the will of Allah. Ina Lilah Waina Allah Rajun. Baba mi, I never thought I would ever write this about you. If tears could wake up the dead, you would be in our arms today. Orun re ire o, oko Nike.

Email: [email protected]

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Siyan Oyeweso: Lessons in virtue and vanity

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Sixty-fifth birthday fireworks: Obasanjo versus Fayose (II)

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Olusegun Obasanjo and Ayodele Fayose

Sixty-fifth birthday fireworks: Obasanjo versus Fayose (II)

By BOLANLE BOLAWOLE

Last week we started with the spat between former President Olusegun Obasanjo and former Ekiti State governor, Peter Ayodele Fayose. Fayose had invited Obasanjo to his 65th birthday celebrations, where the former president made statements that irked the celebrant. Fayose afterwards responded in kind to Obasanjo in a “Thank You” message where he took the former president to the cleaners. Obasanjo also responded by topping it up for Fayose!

Going down memory lane, we narrated how relations went from good to bad between the two leaders, hearing, as it were, from the horse’s mouth – meaning, Ayodele Fayose himself – in his unpublished autobiography titled “Peter the Rock: Autobiography of Dr. Peter Ayodele Fayose”, which was collated together with others and edited by this writer. Read on:

“Obasanjo returned from the USA on 17th June, 2006 and visited Ekiti on June 18th. He had quickly convened a meeting in Abuja in the early hours of 18th before coming to Ekiti. He was earlier scheduled to have visited Ekiti on the 17th and 18th. Realising that his third term agenda had been killed by the National Assembly, he quickly convened a meeting of the leadership of the party, denied the third term agenda, and called for reconciliation in the party. He then came to Ekiti and praised me to high heavens on the same day. Obasanjo assured the Ekiti people that I would be returned as governor and left. I later met with him at Ota in company with other South-west governors; he said he trusted me and believed in my judgment and, therefore, made me the chairman of a group that would search for his successor. He also reaffirmed his support for my second term bid.

“However, in late August of that year (2006), the then Chairman of the Economic and Financial Crimes Commission (EFCC), Nuhu Ribadu, in collaboration with my enemies who believed there was no way I would not win the 2007 governorship election, convinced Obasanjo that I was fraudulent and should be removed from office. Obasanjo bought into this and invited me to Abuja to ask me to step down as the governor of Ekiti state. I told him the step he was taking stemmed from conspiracy against my person. He finally said I should not contest for a second term as governor of Ekiti state, which was ludicrous. I was very much loved by my people who wanted me to continue in office; to be single-handedly short-circuited by one man was patently undemocratic. But unequal power relations made me succumb and we both agreed I should go to the Senate while they shopped for someone else to take my place. To avoid trouble, I said this was okay by me.

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“Two weeks later, I was invited by the same Obasanjo to the Presidential villa and, in the presence of Chief Bode George and the then PDP chairman, Dr. Ahmadu Ali, the president said, ‘Ayo, you did not offend me but the powers-that-be in your state do not want you. So you have to resign now as governor.’ To my amazement, they brought out a letter on the letter-head of the Ekiti State Government, which they asked me to sign – a document I never prepared. I pleaded with the president but he insisted, in spite of entreaties by Chief Bode George and Ahmadu Ali. I then cleverly pleaded with him to let me go back home and tidy myself up so that I could leave honourably. He agreed. When I got back to Ekiti, Obasanjo called me to ask, ‘When are you bringing the letter of resignation?‘ He said, ‘If you think you can see light at the end of the tunnel, it is not with me! You better resign.’

“The ‘story behind the story’ of how I tactically dodged signing the resignation letter they prepared in Abuja was that I had been tipped off by Mrs. Mariam Ali, wife of Dr. Ahmadu Ali, whom I was close to. She had sent a message to me through Bukola Saraki and some other people that I would be invited to a place in Abuja to sign a letter but that ‘under no circumstance’ should I sign the letter. Had I signed the letter, I would have been arrested at the door of the Presidential villa by the EFCC. They would have used that letter in the media, saying that I resigned willingly after admitting that I was corrupt. With the Abuja macabre dance, I realised they had made up their mind to get me. The EFCC arrested everyone around me after they had withdrawn my Chief Security Officer, my ADC, etc…

Politics is truly a dirty game! The same Olabode George, who played a key role in how Fayose upstaged Babalola, later became Fayose’s punching bag during Fayose’s second term of office when Chief George took positions that were diametrically opposed to those of the Fayose/Nyesom Wike camp of the PDP.

“Initially, news of the collaboration of members of the state House of Assembly with my enemies came as a rumour. I summoned courage and invited them through the Clerk of the House. All entreaties to make them see reason fell on deaf ears. They made some unreasonable demands, obviously acting the script of their collaborators. During the heat, when it became obvious they were not ready to back down, having been coerced and at the same time mesmerised with outlandish promises made to them by their sponsors, I told them that if what they planned eventually happened and I was forced out of office; they, too, would sink with me. True to my courageous and prophetic pronouncement, the House of Assembly was suspended following the declaration of emergency rule.

“Stripped of my security details, I was naked and exposed security-wise. The next thing I saw was that my House of Assembly members were ‘arrested’ and taken over by the EFCC in an organised manner. They signed an impeachment letter at the EFCC camp, which they forwarded to me, and in the space of five days, they brought the ‘Honourables’ to the House of Assembly complex where the then (but now late) Speaker, Friday Aderemi, purportedly sacked the Chief Judge of the state, Justice Kayode Bamisile, which was beyond his powers and those of the House of Assembly, and got a consenting judge to act as Acting Chief Judge. The purported Acting Judge, JBK Aladejana, set up another panel after the first panel had absolved me of any guilt. After my acquittal by the first panel, that should have been the end of the matter, but the second panel then pronounced me guilty.

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“The then Inspector-General of Police, Sunday Ehindero, who had a brother who was very close to me, phoned me that he had been ordered to effect my arrest and that lorry-loads of armed policemen were already on their way to carry out the order. He told me quite clearly that tipping me off was the very best he could do for me. If I waited and the men he had sent cornered me, he would not be in any position to assist me. His hands were tied over this matter, he told me quite emphatically. I had to run for my life. So, I escaped out the Government House in the night of 12th October, 2006 and went into exile”

How did Fayose escape from the Government House already surrounded by security forces? In the trunk of a jalopy car, disguised! And for the next eight years he suffered exile, later returning home to surrender himself to the authorities. He was incarcerated and faced trial but, in the end, he was exonerated and became a free man once again. Those travails must have been what Obasanjo referred to at Fayose’s birthday event; what he neglected to add, however, was that he, Obasanjo, was the chief architect of those travails! Fayose contested election again and was victorious, serving out his second term of office between 2014 and 2018. It was during the latter part of that period that our paths crossed, at his invitation.

The story that is yet to be told, but which Obasanjo alluded to in his controversial remarks at Fayose’s 65th birthday bash, is that it is the same Obasanjo – and Chief Olabode George – that was instrumental in Fayose becoming governor in his first tenure, in place of Obasanjo’s own personal friend, Chief SK Babalola. True, then, is the statement by Gen. Oluleye that Obasanjo has equal capacity to do both good and evil!

Politics is truly a dirty game! The same Olabode George, who played a key role in how Fayose upstaged Babalola, later became Fayose’s punching bag during Fayose’s second term of office when Chief George took positions that were diametrically opposed to those of the Fayose/Nyesom Wike camp of the PDP. Call it Karma or whatever, it is the same Olabode George who reportedly moved the motion to expel Wike, Fayose and other PDP leaders at the recent convention of a faction of the PDP at Ibadan.

Proverbs 30: 18 – 19 says: “There be thr

ee things which are too wonderful for me, yea, four which I know not: the way of an eagle in the air; the way of a serpent upon a rock; the way of a ship in the midst of the sea; and the way of a man with a maid” A fifth must now be added: The mysterious ways of Nigerian politicians when they engage in their dirty games!

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Listen to how Fayose himself narrated th

e story of the helping hand he received from Chief Olabode George: “These people still did not give up, despite the fact that I had been given the flag. Again, they set up machinery and started moving around, saying that ‘When Obasanjo comes, we will now allow him to present the flag formally to Fayose in Ekiti.’ They said Obasanjo was going to present the flag to Chief SK Babalola…They were working against me until Obasanjo finally arrived…The night before he landed, Chief SK Babalola and Chief Bamidele Olumilua had sewn the same uniform for themselves and Obasanjo…And I was supposed to be the candidate!

“So, Chief Bode George told us in the afternoon of the night before, when he came to wait for Chief Obasanjo, and got wind of their plan, to quickly go to Oje market in Ibadan to get Aso Oke (Yoruba local fabric) of the same colour for me and Obasanjo and bring it to him. The fabric was done all night and we brought it to Ado-Ekiti before Obasanjo arrived. We now took it to Akure and gave it to Bode George…”

Fayose narrated how Obasanjo ditched a flabbergasted Chief SK Babalola right there on the podium and threw away his aso-oke, reached out for Fayose’s aso-oke, ordered him to the podium, raised up his hand and formally presented the flag to him as the party flagbearer!

After I heard the story of the role Chief Bode George played in frustrating the plans and plots against Fayose becoming the governor of Ekiti state in 2003 straight from Fayose’s own mouth, I marvelled each time Fayose mercilessly tore into the same Bode George when both leaders stood in opposing camps within the same party, the PDP.

One fateful day I held up a proof of his autobiography to Fayose and said: ‘Concerning your relationship with Chief Olabode George, don’t you think your own words in this book indict you?‘

Characteristically, he stared at me, but said nothing! Those who said I was responsible for Fayose not eventually officially launching the autobiography have a point; don’t they?

*Bolawole ([email protected] 0807 552 5533), former Editor of PUNCH newspapers, Chairman of its Editorial Board and Deputy Editor-in-chief, was also the Managing Director/ Editor-in-chief of the Westerner newsmagazine. He writes the “ON THE LORD’S DAY” column in the Sunday Tribune and “TREASURES” column in the New Telegraph newspapers. He is also a public affairs analyst on radio and television.

 

Sixty-fifth birthday fireworks: Obasanjo versus Fayose (II)

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