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Dele Sobowale
“Old friends are better than new…” – especially when you look back to the best years of life. Few of us would have recognised it then. None was wise enough to look far forward to observe what was happening to men 70, or even 80 years old. There were very few in the 1950s and sixties when we were young and had our careers to aspire to. Who thought of arthritis, prostate cancer, Parkinson’s disease, or knees drumming – when there were Queens College, Methodist , Anglican Grammar School, Reagan and the occasional and Our Lady of Apostles girls to chase? It never crossed our minds that we will ever grow old, grey and disabled. Death? Forget it. That was what happened to other people.
December 2020 marks 58 years when those of us who left after the West African School Certificate Examination departed – leaving behind a few who continued for the Higher School Certificate, HSC, course. Even now, it is remarkable, when some of us get together, how much we recollect of some minor events long ago.
I regard myself as extremely fortunate to write this particular article – which takes me back to the happiest days of my life and the fifty boys (they are still boys to me) who made them possible. I would have preferred to write a book.
LIST OF MEMBERS
Abiodun, C. Folorunso, 2. Adebiyi, Olu, 3. Adegbite, Dapo, 4.Adesina, Ademola, 5. Adewole, Layi, 6. Adeyemi -Wilson, Yomi, 7. Adewunmi, Onnuola, 8. Adu, Oladipo, 9. Akeredolu, Kehinde , 10. Akin-Johnson, Babalola, 11. Ajayi, Tolu, 12. Aina, Folarin, 13. Aitalegbe, Ayo, 14. Awoyomi, J, 15. Bada, Yinka, 16. Benson, Oriyomi, 17. Bamidele, Layiwola, 18. Bankole, Ajose, 19. Desalu, Kunle, 20. Doherty, Abiodun, 21. George, Ebenezer O, 22. George, Olusegun, 23. Fadipe, Yinka, 24. Green, Deinde, 25. Idowu, Derin, 26. Jegede, Bayo, 27. Kuboye, Tunde, 28. Lapite, Duro, 29. Nathan-Marsh, Fela, 30. Martins, Damola, 31. Musa, Taslim, 32. Odebunmi, Akin, 33. Odimayo, Dele, 34. Ogunbanjo, Femi, 35. Okwesa, Celestine Obi, 36. Olude, Sola, 37. Olusa, Segun, 38. Onyehara, Anthony, 39. Onwuneme Ulomnam, 40. Ordia, Idahosa, 41. Oso, Olufemi, 42. Orukotan, Tayo, 43. Osodi, Tunde, 44. Owolabi, Segun, 45. Ositelu, Ayo, 46. Sagoe, Baba, 47. Savage, Adeniyi, 48. Sobowale, Dele, 49. Solanke, Femi, 50. Sotunbo, Adebisi, 51. Willoughby, Adeniyi.
I learnt on a daily basis and for five years about the diversity of human personalities. No two members of the class were alike in every respect. We had the serious, the care-free, the bookworms, the clowns, the budding talented artists/musicians, the saints, the recluse and the outright rebels. In my view, three qualified for sainthood at the time – Yomi Adeyemi-Wilson, Akin-Johnson and Ebenezer George. A fourth saint emerged later in life from among those hell-bound. The transformation of our Class President – Segun George – to a Knight of John Wesley is still to me one of the miracles of the last century. Like the thief on the right hand of Jesus, Sir George has reduced the numbers of dyed in the wool sinners by one. He is an incomparable caring Class President.
DEATHS OR THOSE WHO WENT BEFORE US.
“The death of every man diminishes me…(John Donne, 1572-1631). The sense of diminution is worsened when the departed was once so close and the memory remains fresh. Still, it is remarkable that in a country with life expectancy still at 51, only about nine to twelve have left us till now. Those known to me are: Adesina, Adewole, Akeredolu, Doherty, Fadipe, Odimayo, Ositelu, Solanke and Willoughby. Two deaths touched me directly – Fadipe’s and Adewole’s. Yinka, a medical doctor had been smitten by cancer – which made no sense to me. So, I undertook to visit him everyday I was in Lagos. One day, he asked me to help renew his Passport. Thinking he was going abroad for treatment, I quickly completed the assignment the Nigerian way – by offering an envelope full of cash to an Officer in Passport Office. Friday, while on my way to Ibadan, I took the Passport to him. Already very emaciated he still attempted to hug me and bestowed on me a heavenly smile. I promised to see him Sunday; left the ward; got in my car and just as the gateman was passing me into the fast-moving Ikeja traffic somebody was banging on the car. I did not wait to find out why. Later that evening, one of his cousins called me at Ibadan to announce that “Dr Yinka Fadipe has passed on”. For the first time since leaving Igbobi, I could not understand a simple statement of fact. “Passed on” was like Greek to me. I went on Sunday to the hospital and the first person to meet me was the guy banging on the car on Friday. “You friend died on Friday, I was banging on your car…”
Several classmates attended Yinka’s funeral and I found myself sitting next to Adewole – then getting a grip on his life after a long struggle with addiction. We were close despite his problems; spent many nights from early evening until 5 am – when I would help him to go home. Out of nowhere he turned to me and asked,
“Dele So, Solanke is gone; now Fadipe is gone, who is next?”
“How should I know?” was my short and dismissive answer.
A few weeks after, KJW George called and announced: “Lai Adewole is dead.”
As far as I am concerned, Lai had suffered too much and was just getting started to receive the dividends of long education and the hard work rehabilitation from drugs entailed. He had introduced his fiancée to me a few weeks before. I was waiting for a wedding, followed by kids – not another funeral. It was the wrong death, wrong time and wrong guy.
Lai’s death sent me rushing to re-read a piece written years ago by Jewish Rabbi — whose name escapes me now. It was titled: WHEN BAD THINGS HAPPEN TO GOOD PEOPLE. I still cannot forget those two guys. But, this part of the article is in remembrance of all our mates, known or unknown, who departed.
MISSING IN ACTION; ARE THEY ABOVE OR BELOW GROUNG LEVEL?
With death known, there is a closure even as we grieve. But, inexplicably, there are some of our classmates nobody has heard about since we left in 1962. They just “disappeared”. Each of them brought his brand of personality to educate us about people and to enrich our lives. Then, they just vanished!!! The list is provided below. Can anybody who has any information about them please call: 0708-137-2829. Thank you in advance.
Abiodun, Aitalegbe, Awoyomi, Bamidele, Idowu, Martins, Onyehara, Ordia, Orukotan, Owolabi, Ogunbanjo, and Sotunmbo.
WITH SPECIAL GRATITUDE TO MY BENEFACTORS
“I hate ingratitude in a man more than lying, vainness, bubbling drunkenness or any other taint of vice…” William Shakespeare, 1564-1616. God knows I pack virtually all the vices known to mankind and others still to be discovered. But, I don’t want to add ingratitude to the list. I remember all my classmates with a great deal of fondness. But, to some I will forever be grateful.
I will never forget the year 2020 even if given 1000 years here on earth. One Saturday in March I woke up standing on my two legs. By 12 noon I was a cripple. COVID-19 caught up with me in the hospital while recovering from prostate cancer operation. Certainly, I was next to join our departed mates. So, I told nobody. But, somehow my classmates got to know. From March, I was shedding millions of naira on my treatment and running out of naira faster than a basket with water. I made no appeal for donations from anybody.
Two months after I was discharged on a wheel chair; and then graduated to a walker; I received a call from Saint Segun George. After confirming that I could move about, he asked if I could join some classmates for a drink at his Club. It was the first invitation from anyone since it became known I was disabled. I grabbed the IV with both hands. It might be the last time to get free GULDER.
“Charity is giving before you are asked.” Henry Miller.
My Economics university professor was wrong when he declared that “There is no such thing as a free lunch”. I got free lunch and free beer; made ready to go with a belly full. Well, miracles happen all the time. St George then stood up; made a short speech and handed me an envelope – donations from some of our mates who heard about my predicament. Unbelievable and totally unexpected. I have cried only twice in my adult life. I mumbled a statement; went home and cried for hours. More than the amount; it was the thought that mattered most. Incidentally, the money saw me through to the time I could begin to restore my life which cancer almost terminated. Permit me therefore to place my benefactors on record. Please help me thank those you know; pray for all.
Babs Akin-George, Babs Papa Sagoe, Onnuola Adewunmi, Dapo Adegbite, Oriyomi Benson, Akin George* (he was not in the original 58-62 set but always a friend), Sir Segun George, Akin Odebunmi, Adeyemi-Wilson and Bayo Jegede (all the way from USA).
P.S. As for me, readers should just remember me as the most gentle member of the class. Anything else you are told is fake news.
REMEMBERING MARYAM BABANGIDA ELEVEN YEARS AFTER.
MARYAM BABANGIDA (NOVEMBER 1948-DECEMBER 2009) THE FIRST OF OUR FIRST LADIES.
“They never really die who live evergreen in our hearts.”
Simplicity. Sincerity. Strength, Splendour. Those four words summarise the life and times of Nigeria’s most remarkable First Lady. When Maryam Babangida (nee Okogwu), born on November 1, 1948, passed away on December 27, 2009, at the Jonson Comprehensive Cancer Center, University of California, Los Angeles, USA, her death served as a reminder to all of us of our mortality. But, the public life she lived in the span of eight years during which she was Nigeria’s First Lady, re-echoed the words of the poet:
“Lives of great men [and women] remind us/ that we also can make our lives sublime/ and departing leave behind us/Footprints on the sands of time.”
She left behind several legacies. The most enduring was the Better Life For Rural Women Programme which sought to empower rural women, who actually produced and still produce the vast majority of food consumed by Nigerians without receiving the credit for their contributions. Cynics and critics observed only the contrast between the well-dressed wives of Governors and Local Government Chairmen dragged to various rural communities and the rural folks in thread-bear apparels. They failed to notice that it was the first and last time in Nigeria’s history when “The Queen” stooped so low as to visit poor rural fellow citizens in their domains and undertook the ardous task of helping them by urging the government headed by His Excellency to open the national purse and distribute wealth so far down the income bracket.”
Now, as rural women are being kidnapped, killed, extorted and raped without hope from Abuja, it is difficult to remember there was a time when the first of all Nigerian first ladies placed them on centre stage in Nigeria with the Better Life for Rural Women Programme. Now nobody gives a damn about them.
Who ever said a tree does not make a forest should find out about Better Life.
May her gentle soul rest in perpetual peace.