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By Wale Ojo
Dear Daddy, You are gone but remain forever in our hearts. At the tender age of 12, through freezing and snowy weather, you dropped me at Mayfield College in the county of West Sussex, South-East England. I remember crying profusely because I wanted to come back to Nigeria to you, Mummy and my elder brother, Niyi. I felt surrounded by strange people in an alien environment. I could no longer enjoy my breakfast delicacies of moi-moi and ogi, waiting to hear my Uncle Bioye say, “All gone,” as I polished off the contents of the plate in record time.
I didn’t like it in England and I cried profusely for several days. However, during our many letters of exchange, you sometimes scolded and admonished me, asking me to face my studies and stop behaving like a spoilt brat! And that was you, straight to the point, no messing around. When I nearly burnt down the house from leaving the candle on in my room at night while doing my night studies, I knew I would never do it again, after the severe tongue-lashing I got.
I would never forget the moments of pure joy when you bought your first car, a Toyota Crown WAE 7542. I remember all four of us piling into the car and driving off at full speed down Secretariat Road, Agodi Gardens. Niyi and I were delirious with excitement. We stuck our faces out of the window to feel the wind blowing in our faces as tears streamed down our cheeks. A truly memorable time.
I may not have fulfilled your desire for me to become an accomplished barrister at law. I hope you are proud of the career path that I chose. And I hope I made the right decision. And, yes, of course, I was the entertainer of the family…testing my Michael Jackson dance moves at a private concert for the family to rounds of applause from the three of you – Mummy, Niyi and Daddy.
And who can forget when Niyi and I would run from Mama Tayo’s house at the sound of your car arriving, straight to the lesson teacher who would sit there in the corridor saying, “I told you your Daddy would soon arrive”?
My heart would pound profusely when you would say that you would give me a test on what I had learnt during the day. Niyi would say he was going to run away because he hadn’t done any homework at all!
And I want to apologise to you now, Daddy, for putting drawing pins in your bedroom slippers when we lived at Oba Akenzua Street, next to Ojo’badan Avenue at Bodija Estate. It was simply my way of taking revenge for the severe beating I got for some perceived offence or the other. Niyi and I would hide and laugh mischievously when the drawing pins drew the desired shout!
You are gone, but never forgotten. We take comfort and cheer from the fact that you lived a long and fulfilling life at almost 91 years. From the moment you cried out to me almost seven years ago saying, “Wale I need help,” up to a few months ago when you looked at me and said “Wale…Kuse,” Mummy and I did our best to offer that help, especially Mummy who was with you from waking dawn to falling night, washing you, feeding you, singing you hymns, making sure you were shaved, cooking your favourite meals, taking you to hospital so many times when I wasn’t there, the list goes on and on. Niyi and I are also forever in her debt for extending your life.
Godspeed Baba, to that place of joy and peaceful rest. May the Angels make the journey light. Sun re ooo, Baami. Forever, your son, Wale Ojo.
