Over the next few months
in 1988, I devoted my attention to my budding ‘legal practice’ on the campus. The Obafemi Awolowo Student’s Union
allowed law students to set up chambers and law offices. It is through these
that many students were represented when they had matters before the Students’
Union Judicial Council. Practising final
Year law students were addressed as ‘Senior
Advocates of the Campus’ (SAC). Pedro Okoro, my friend was elected the ‘Lord Chancellor’ and sat with other
elected judges who adjudicated over various cases. As a result of my practice, I became the
Legal Adviser to the Medical Students’ Association and was involved in
providing them some strategic political advice during their national
convention. I took on a number of cases, spending a significant amount of time
before the Judicial Council. I remember
representing ’Tunde Olupona, my friend and classmate who had been dismissed as
an Editor of the Bang magazine. Through
grit, application and determination we won the case and he was reinstated.
It was with some regret
that I narrowly missed obtaining a Second Class Lower degree and I had to
settle for Third Class honours. It was
International Law that appeared to bring down my cumulative grade point average
and even though I was rebuked by one of my lecturers for the choice of course I
do not regret choosing it. Many of my
friends were not surprised feeling it was a reflection of the limited time I devoted
to my studies. I place things in perspective and believe it was a joy to
graduate, for someone who was rusticated just before promotion examinations; I
am at least very thankful to God. The
pain of a Third Class degree was later erased when I obtained a Masters with distinction
and acquired a Doctorate degree in the United Kingdom at The Nottingham Trent
University. It was onwards to Victoria
Island, Lagos to attend the Nigerian Law School and qualify as a Barrister and
Solicitor. Once I got there, in search
of my father’s identity and achievements, I spent a lot of time visiting the
Nigerian Institute of International Affairs (NIIA) on the Victoria Island and I
became an Associate member. I felt at
home and dwelt on pleasant memories of my father and was able to meet with his
friend Mr. ’Gboyega Banjo, the Director of Library and Documentation Services
at the Institute. Mr. Banjo had been one
of the librarians at the University of Lagos while my father worked there and
they had struck up a close friendship. I
have kept close contact with him over the years and I appreciate the time he
has always given me.
The Institute’s
buildings were completed in 1965 but its architecture had been designed far ahead
of its time. It had the main building, an
imposing two floors, surrounding with verandas and flats at the top; the ground
floor housed the open plan library. The
lecture theatre was attached to it like a complex and was regularly hired out
to members of the public because of the sedate atmosphere it projected. There
was the octagon shaped council chambers used for roundtable conferences and
other seminars. It was in here all the
portraits of past Directors-General including my father’s adorned the
walls. Later on and extension of a two
story building was added but it struggled to conform to the earlier classical
architecture. It was there the Directors
of the Institute relocated their offices.
At the NIIA, in the
lecture theatre, I became reacquainted with General Olusegun Obasanjo who was
then the former military Head of State of Nigeria. He had been invited to deliver a lecture and
his invitation was solely because of the stature and the added credence he gave
to the event.
In 1985 through the
courtesy of my Uncle Chief Adeagbo Odeniyi, I had visited him on his farm at
Otta. My uncle a budding farmer was
intent on expansion and thought the General could offer a way forward. We were ushered into the presence of Obasanjo
who was bedecked in a simple danshiki and was seated on a table. He looked older and his frame less rotund but
he had maintained his wicked sense of humour.
I had looked forward to sumptuous meal to satisfy the cravings of my
palate, however, all he was able to offer was a visit to the worker’s canteen,
which I politely declined. However, this
was not my only close proximity to the General, his son Olusegun was close to
me at King’s College where I was his senior and then we later became classmates. The General impressed me as someone who had
the good of the country at heart but was too self-opinionated to accept
mistakes when he made them.
At the same NIIA
lecture theatre, I also had the privilege of listening to baritone voice of
Alhaji Adamu Ciroma, an ex-minister under President Sheu Shagari, who later
became the Finance Minister under Obasanjo. He had come to deliver a lecture at the
Institute. He shared an anecdote about two
ministers, a Nigerian and an Argentinian in an attempt to describe the extent
of the prevailing corruption. The
Nigerian minister had visited the Argentinian minster in Buenos Aires and was
astonished by the extent of his wealth and the opulence he displayed. The inquisitive Nigerian minister asked the
Argentina about the source of his wealth.
In response, the minister took him to a newly constructed bridge,
pointed to it and I said:
‘You
see that bridge, ten percent of it was mine.’
The Nigerian minister
shook his head assimilated the information and returned to Nigeria. A year later, there was an exchange visit by his
Argentinean counterpart. The minister
was befuddled and confounded by the extent and extravagance displayed by the
Nigerian minister. He wondered aloud to
the Nigeria about the newly acquired wealth.
The Nigerian took him on a tour of a derelict site, a site so extensive
and then pointed to it and told the minister:
‘You
see that uncompleted project out there?
Hundred percent of it was mine.’
After completing Law
School I found myself following my twin’s footpath, she had undertaken her
one-year compulsory National Youth Service in Ogun State and now I discovered I
was posted to the same state of the Nigerian Federation. I arrived early in the morning at Onikolobo,
Abeokuta the Youth Corpers camp, a derelict school, with classrooms set up in
dormitory style. I remain grateful to the then Treasurer of the KCOBA who
ensured I had adequate pocket money at the time. The washing facilities where make shift and
we had to make do with dug up pits in the ground. Abeokuta, a Yoruba town with some very recent
illustrious history behind it, got is name because of its hilly terrain and it
means a town under the rock. Most of its
indigenes were refugees from the ravages of the 19th century Yoruba
Civil War.
I assumed that I would
settle for a quiet life in Ogun State but when I saw Kekemeke D. Isaacs, ’Yinka
Odumakin, Adeniyi Adewunmi and Adeniran at the camp I knew that it would be far
from quiet. I was elected the Chairman
of the Food Committee of the camp and this meant I avoided most of the
strenuous activities other Youth Corp members were expected to engage in. The whole catering operation in the camp was
a hotbed of corruption and Adeniran and I spent most of the time thwarting
attempts by staff to pilfer the food. On
a few occasions the staff attempted to bribe us with choice cuts of prime beef,
but Adeniran and myself took a principled stand and rejected any such attempts.
I made it a point of duty to accompany the staff to the wholesale markets to
establish none of the purchasing processes were inflated. It was at the camp I
became close to a reserved but beautiful lady, Olajumoke Akinkuolie who later agreed
to become my wife. My attempts at
foiling corruption once brought the wrath of one of the caterers who proceeded
to give me a trouncing. It was the quick
thinking of Adeniran and other Camp staff’s intervention that saved me from a utter
and complete mauling.
At the end of the six
weeks camp, to my utter surprise I was elected into the Executive of the
Christian Corpers’ Fellowship as Abeokuta Zonal co-ordinator. This ensured that my time of service was occupied
with spiritual exploits, which I mixed with my new life as a State
Prosecutor. I would hold court in
Oke-Ijeun a nicely proportioned bungalow which Dr. Olufemi Ashley-Dejo the
father of my friend ‘AD99’ had allowed me to use for the year. You could hear many in the locality hailing
me ‘Lawyer, Lawyer.’ It would seem that from now on I would
restrict myself simply to matters, which seemed spiritual.
However, whilst Nigeria
continues to stumble around for lack of leadership I cannot remain silent nor
on the sidelines and the next chapter will begin to explore the way forward for
our nation. I repeat the words of Dr.
Martin Luther King that:
“Our lives begin to end the day we become
silent about things that matter.”
It would seem that my
history, my father’s memories have prepared me for such a time as this.
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