I had planned to meet him at the wedding of the daughter of a kinsman but got to know of his exit even before I got there. Exit, not from the venue of the wedding but a final and ultimate exit from this side of existence.
The announcement came through a phone call from his nephew in a terse statement – Egbon, we lost Uncle AB early this morning. It was like the announcement at the departure lounge of an airport. It sounded loud in my ears and reverberated everywhere as it turned out to be the subject matter of many discourse at the wedding venue.
AB, ABO, Brother AB, AB INITIO as different people preferred to call him was a retired Civil Servant with the Oyo State Civil Service, the Chief Press Secretary to the late Governor Adebayo Alao Akala and a legal practitioner.
Looking at him, he looked so harmless with his gentle disposition. He had a countenance that easily gave him away as a sissy – meek and unassuming. He was jovial but never a talkative person and always minding his business unless you invited him to yours.
But as those who were close to him would testify, Brother AB’s look could be very deceptive. Behind that facade of gentleness lied a toughness of mind that only came to the fore when situations called for it. A lover of life, and he enjoyed life to the fullest, he never lost focus. He had this doggedness about facing life with a determination that was special to him. ABOO, was never known to accept defeat in the fight for his space but , as a honourable man, will not become a dog for the sake of a fat bone. He would rather starve. And even as he starved, he would still not betray that unpleasantness. He was tough inside.
My Egbon, and that is what he was to me, infected me with his daring inclination , inspiring me to take the plunge even when the depth of the river and its habitats were unknown. He was there at critical junctures in my life journey.
When he decided to take a degree in Law, he literally pulled me by the hands to follow his footsteps. For years I dillydallied but he never stopped urging me on until I did his bidding. Yes, it was tough but looking back, I am delighted to say that I took the right decision. Law School was war school, if you know what I mean. I was almost giving up but thank God for the emergence of the GSM. Brother AB would either call or send me a message almost on daily basis placing faggots on my dying fire and keeping my waning spirit alive. A day before the commencement of my Bar Finals, I got a call from him telling me not to panic. He insisted I should always have adequate rest to forestall any form of sickness, especially mental sickness. One of his advice that made a lot of difference was that I should be mindful of tutorial groups many of which had sprung up on the campus of the Abuja Law School. As I would find out, it turned out that the blind was leading the blinds in most of these tutorial groups many of which suffered devastating casualties. I thank God I heeded the advice of a fore runner.
At about this time fifteen years ago, I was at a crossroads in my career. His advice, like those of others imbued with wisdom, enabled me to take a decision that was in tandem with God’s purpose for my life at the time. Fifteen years later, I have God to thank for the people He used to inspire me to take the right decision at that very critical time. Brother AB was one of them.
Though you took an early exit, you were a good man that should have been around for long. Loyal to friends and never shirking in your responsibility to your family. While you never took “faaji” out of your schedule, it never came in conflict with the care of your children. Work and pleasure also never had a conflict with you. Work took priority at all times.
ABO, your remains may be locked up in a morgue as I hit the keyboard , your love for the people you related with reminds me that you will live forever in the hearts of many. ABO, you will be sorely missed.
… Adeosun, a legal luminary and journalist, is Director of University of Ibadan Advancement Centre.