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By Taiwo Awoyinfa, Son
I must have been nine or 10 years old when our dad, Mike Awoyinfa, introduced us to the magical world of Harry Potter—the series of seven children’s fantasy novels written by the famous British author J.K. Rowling.
Each time a new Harry Potter book was released and Dad was abroad, he got us the book which we responded to with an overflow of ecstasy. Even if he was not abroad, he still made sure we were among the first kids in Nigeria to get our hands on it. By the fifth book, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, I was already an addict. Like a madman on crack, I would hold on to the encyclopedia-sized book and read it voraciously in a day or two, red-eyed and oblivious to food, water or sleep. Then, I would hand it over to the next kid on the queue.
It was in the fifth book that I learnt about the mystical bird called the Phoenix, which is periodically consumed by fire and rises triumphantly from its own ashes—born again, renewed and refreshed.
My mum, Olubukola Awoyinfa, is a Phoenix.
Her life has been characterised by overcoming hardship, transformation and fresh beginnings. Just a few months after she was born, she had her first literal Phoenix rebirth. She was placed on a bed of burning coals by someone who was supposed to be looking after her. Her back was badly burned, and she was bedridden in hospital during the early years of her life.
But out of those ashes she rose, defiant in the face of adversity.
Ironically, and as fate would have it, the very person who put her on that fire would years later die in Olubukola’s arms after a ghastly road accident, pleading for her forgiveness. And yet the skin that fire once tried to claim would go on to carry a beauty that could stop people in their tracks.
My mum, Olubukola, is the most beautiful woman you would ever meet—on the outside, but most especially on the inside. Sometimes I look at pictures of her in her youth, sleek and slender as a runway model, with a face as pretty as Aphrodite herself, and I wonder what Mike must have said to her to bag such a beauty.
Thankfully, her genes run through all her grandchildren, from Fifedami all the way to Oluwatobi.
My mum, Olubukola, loves her husband, Mike Awoyinfa.
Fate wove their story together when they first met at Ijebu-Ijesha Grammar School, Ijebu-Ijesha, in Osun State. Since then, through the ups and downs of life, they have remained inseparable. There is no Mike without Olubukola, and Olubukola’s identity is woven into the fabric of being Mrs. Awoyinfa.
In her own words: “Mike gave me the freedom to be my true self. His only ask of me was not to bring his name to disrepute.”
Although legally and traditionally married, Olubukola and Mike never had a white wedding. So, at sunset, overlooking the Caribbean Sea on a beachfront in faraway Cancún, Mexico, they renewed their vows before God and their loved ones.
My mum, Olubukola, is selfless—a trait I cherish the most and one that resonates deeply with me. She is the last to eat at a table she has prepared and the first to serve, even in the most inconvenient situations. She looks out for others, especially those who have wronged her. Nothing is beneath her; she would go the extra mile for those she loves. She loves deeply and cares richly, holding nothing back.
My mum, Olubukola, says the truth even when it hurts. This has gotten her into a lot of trouble over the years. Her honesty is never driven by malice or spite, but by pure passion and a genuine desire to see the best in everyone she encounters.
My mum, Olubukola, is energetic and full of life.
In her younger days, she was an athlete—racket sports and javelin were her specialties. Even in what some might call her old age, she would outwork and outpace most people her age and even many younger than her.
She is an Omugwo specialist—you just have to ask her daughters-in-law. Grandmastic, as she is fondly called, would clean, cook, wash and massage tirelessly, making sure our wives did not lift a single finger.
In the words of the singer Asa: “Mama mi o ruju ri and that’s why I am loving you.”
My mum, Olubukola, is a spark. She lights up every room with her warmth and her love. There is never a dull moment when she is around. Maybe she really is a Phoenix, burning away at every opportunity to give life and light to those around her.
Above all, my mum, Olubukola, loves God. She never shies away from an opportunity to burst into a song or pray out loud. After all, He is the One who has sustained her through the peaks and troughs of her eventful life.
My mum, Olubukola, turned 70 on August 8, and we celebrated her in grand style at a beautiful resort in Cancún, Mexico, surrounded by family, friends and some of the people who mean the most to her.
My dearest Mamastick, words are not enough to express how much I love you. But perhaps the words written by my twin brother, Kehinde, on his Instagram post can be a start:
“Olubukola, today I celebrate you, the pillar that never bent, the rock that never cracked, and somehow still the softest rose in every room you walk into. And what a beautiful rose.
At 70, you carry a beauty that goes so far beyond your face, though even that has barely aged a day. It’s in the way you move through the world, the way your eyes still light up for the people you love, the way your beauty inside has always matched, maybe even outshone, the beauty everyone sees on the outside. You took a boy and raised a man. Not by lecturing me, but by showing me. Hard work with your own hands, love without keeping score, grace even for people who didn’t deserve it. You never taught me to look at someone’s flaws first. You taught me to look at their heart, because that’s how you’ve always looked at me.
Everything I am, every good thing anyone will ever say about me, has your fingerprints on it. You gave me the world quietly, without ever asking for anything back, so today I just want to give a little of it back to you.
I love you beyond words, Mum. Happy Birthday.
You deserve the world, and I’m spending the rest of my life making sure you get it.”
