By Sen Babafemi Ojudu
I woke up this morning to read a piece written by my friend and brother, Demola Adegbamigbe on the social relations between the Igbos and our Ado Ekiti people in the 1960s and 1970s.
It is a touching piece of history and prose. A piece that should make us reflect on the needlessness of the ethnic acrimony brought about by the last presidential election. Personally, I have related perfectly with Igbos since my adolescence. My playmates, as an urchin, were Igbos and my best friend in the university , Austin Onuoha , is Igbo. We remain friends till today. I have had wonderful relationships with Igbos all my life.
I was however rudely shocked when, after the helicopter crash in Kaaba, people forwarded to me postings on Facebook by our Eastern brothers and sisters, who regretted that I, Vice President Osinbajo, and other occupants did not perish. I was taken aback and could hardly understand that.
I am, however, knowledgeable and experienced enough to know that there are bad people everywhere, as there are good people . I also know that there are some of my own townsmen also who would have harbored sentiments of joy, had I died in that crash and could have secretly celebrated with the words “oloriibu omo ti lo.”
I know of someone who God placed in a position to be appreciative, and who has immensely benefitted from my huge heartedness who, days after the crash, refused to greet me at a public function and gave me a look of ‘why didn’t you die?’
No matter where you hail from, some will love you and some will hate you. That is human nature. You can only be loved by everyone when you have not dared. As my father will say, “if people do not speak of you, either positively or negatively, then you are non-existent and have not achieved anything.”
Acrimony is not the subject of this piece, but this just goes to show how politics can move people to the extreme of wishing death on their fellow humans.
We should however be careful of what we wish for, as two of my grandchildren are Igbos, while my younger brother, Tayo, is married to an Igbo lady, with four beautiful children we are proud of. If I had perished in that crash, it would have caused misery to, both my Igbo and Yoruba relatives. Before Tayo went on to marry his Igbo wife, Angela, my father gave approval to it without reservation. I remember that occasion vividly now, as he took me on a historical tour of Igbo settlers in Ado Ekiti, and their relationships with the locals.
Much of that story is retold in Demola’s piece, which I read this morning. I am from a very liberal family, just as many Yoruba families are. My late mom, Mama Gani, was a redeemer till she died, while my dad was a staunch Muslim. At mom’s wake-keep, both the Christian and Muslim communities sat side by side and recounted how much of a decent woman she was. When my sister,9 Funke , got married, she insisted on having a Christian marriage . I was in detention then, under Abacha’s regime. My father, in spite of being Muslim, followed her to the church and led her to the alter. Growing up, we celebrated the festivals of Islam and Christianity, by fraternizing and having great fun with our neighbors, despite their religion or origin. As little urchins, members of Scripture Union used to pick us up to Sunday school . The allure then, as young minds, was the anticipation of drinking Fanta and Mirinda, which was served at the end of the teachings.
Open the link below to read Ademola Adegbamigbe’s piece:
https://www.thenewsnigeria.com.ng/2019/03/embers-of-war-painful-childhood-memories/
It didn’t stop us from making our choices when we became adults. We grew up knowing ethnic and religious harmony. Those were legacies left for us by our parents. We must not let them escape from our hearts.
My people of Ado Ekiti were exceptional in their relationship with the Igbos, as well as people of other cultural backgrounds. The Urhobos managed our farms and delivered palm oil to my grand parents in return for being tenants. And they enjoyed a harmonious relationship up until the end of their days.
Related articles:https://www.thenewsnigeria.com.ng/2019/03/the-yoruba-i-hate/
https://www.thenewsnigeria.com.ng/2019/03/musing-on-ethnic-tension/
Okoli, as simply known , was and is still a big player in the commercial business of my town and state. When the civil war broke out, the entire town went into a mournful mood because Okoli had to close his business and return to the East with his entire family, many of whom were our friends and playmates in the Ojumose area of the town.
What Demola didn’t know and did not feature in his piece is that the locals were not only pained that Okoli had to leave, they actually took part in all efforts to conceal his whereabouts and ensure his safety. He was loved by the entire community. Following the blitzkrieg of negative propaganda, he finally had no choice, but to leave. I was informed by my father how he and people of the community made representation to the Kabiyesi (Ewi Aladesanmi) about Okoli and his wares. The Kabiyesi made available a room in the palace and Okoli was assisted in packing his non perishable wares and moving them to the palace where they were kept.
