Special Assistant to
President Buhari on Media and Publicity, Femi Adesina, has paid a moving
tribute to his elder sister, Professor Foluke Ogunleye who died in a
fatal accident along the Lagos-Ibadan expressway on December 26th last
year.
The tribute was titled “A crushing blow on Boxing Day“…now read it below:
It’s
a day in British tradition dedicated to opening boxes of gifts received
at Christmas, and that is why it’s called Boxing Day. But what the
Adesina family got this last December 26 was a crushing blow, the type
Mike Tyson, in his heyday, handed out to his opponents in the ring. It
was a blow to the solar plexus: painful, sad, traumatic, leaving an
impact that not even time heals. Such pain lasts forever.
It’s
a day in British tradition dedicated to opening boxes of gifts received
at Christmas, and that is why it’s called Boxing Day. But what the
Adesina family got this last December 26 was a crushing blow, the type
Mike Tyson, in his heyday, handed out to his opponents in the ring. It
was a blow to the solar plexus: painful, sad, traumatic, leaving an
impact that not even time heals. Such pain lasts forever.
President
Muhammadu Buhari, whom I am privileged to serve as Special Adviser on
Media and Publicity, had told me at a private meeting before Christmas
that since I was a Christian, I could take some days off during the
Yuletide season to be with my family. That was why Boxing Day found me
in Lagos, and at about 4 p.m, I left the house to attend a special church program billed for 5 p.m. The day was bright and beautiful.
Muhammadu Buhari, whom I am privileged to serve as Special Adviser on
Media and Publicity, had told me at a private meeting before Christmas
that since I was a Christian, I could take some days off during the
Yuletide season to be with my family. That was why Boxing Day found me
in Lagos, and at about 4 p.m, I left the house to attend a special church program billed for 5 p.m. The day was bright and beautiful.
At 4.30 p.m,
a few meters to my destination, my phone rang. It was my immediate
elder brother, Tayo, a Professor of History at the University of Ibadan.
The news he gave fouled up the hitherto cheery atmosphere, and even the
sun seemed to have fled from the sky. An official of the Federal Road
Safety Commission (FRSC) had called him to say our sister, Foluke, a
Professor of Dramatic Arts, at the Obafemi Awolowo University, Ile-Ife,
had been involved in an accident along the Lagos/Ibadan Expressway. Of
the four people in the car, two were certified dead.
a few meters to my destination, my phone rang. It was my immediate
elder brother, Tayo, a Professor of History at the University of Ibadan.
The news he gave fouled up the hitherto cheery atmosphere, and even the
sun seemed to have fled from the sky. An official of the Federal Road
Safety Commission (FRSC) had called him to say our sister, Foluke, a
Professor of Dramatic Arts, at the Obafemi Awolowo University, Ile-Ife,
had been involved in an accident along the Lagos/Ibadan Expressway. Of
the four people in the car, two were certified dead.
The
next half an hour was probably the longest I’d ever spent in my life. I
made a detour for the house, and continued to communicate with the FRSC
official, whose number I had collected from my brother. Later, I
contacted Mr Bisi Kazeem, spokesman of the commission and a long time
friend, asking him to help with precise information. It came almost at
the speed of light. Two people were truly dead, and they were my sister,
and her brother-in-law, who was visiting from America. It was him that
was being taken to Lagos from Ibadan, to catch a flight back to the U.S
that night. Now, he had boarded a last flight to eternity. Very sad!
Tragic!
next half an hour was probably the longest I’d ever spent in my life. I
made a detour for the house, and continued to communicate with the FRSC
official, whose number I had collected from my brother. Later, I
contacted Mr Bisi Kazeem, spokesman of the commission and a long time
friend, asking him to help with precise information. It came almost at
the speed of light. Two people were truly dead, and they were my sister,
and her brother-in-law, who was visiting from America. It was him that
was being taken to Lagos from Ibadan, to catch a flight back to the U.S
that night. Now, he had boarded a last flight to eternity. Very sad!
Tragic!
For
the seven Adesina brothers and sisters, this was trauma in the true
sense of the word. Five brothers and two sisters, and now, one of the
sisters was gone. Like George Orwell wrote in his work, ‘A Hanging,’ “We
were a party of men walking together, seeing, feeling, understanding
the same world. But with a sudden snap, one of us was gone. One mind
less, one world less.”
the seven Adesina brothers and sisters, this was trauma in the true
sense of the word. Five brothers and two sisters, and now, one of the
sisters was gone. Like George Orwell wrote in his work, ‘A Hanging,’ “We
were a party of men walking together, seeing, feeling, understanding
the same world. But with a sudden snap, one of us was gone. One mind
less, one world less.”
From
Lagos to London, Ibadan to Abeokuta, where the Adesinas are based, it
was a festival of tears. Raindrops fell endlessly from our eyes. Was it
not just a little over two years earlier that we buried our mother?
Don’t we still miss her keenly, though she died at 75? Yes, she could
have lived to be 80, and even more. Foluke became the automatic mother,
keeping everyone under her wings. From her base in University of
Botswana, where she was a visiting professor, on sabbatical from OAU,
Ife, she was the rallying point for everybody. She was merely home for
Christmas, and was to return to Botswana on January 22. Now she was
dead, at just 53 years old, a latest victim of famished Nigerian roads. A
lifetime of study and research, gone. All the knowledge, wasted. There
are only 10 female professors of Dramatic Arts in Nigeria. Now, one of
them was gone, consumed by rapacious Nigerian roads. One mind less, one
world less.
Lagos to London, Ibadan to Abeokuta, where the Adesinas are based, it
was a festival of tears. Raindrops fell endlessly from our eyes. Was it
not just a little over two years earlier that we buried our mother?
Don’t we still miss her keenly, though she died at 75? Yes, she could
have lived to be 80, and even more. Foluke became the automatic mother,
keeping everyone under her wings. From her base in University of
Botswana, where she was a visiting professor, on sabbatical from OAU,
Ife, she was the rallying point for everybody. She was merely home for
Christmas, and was to return to Botswana on January 22. Now she was
dead, at just 53 years old, a latest victim of famished Nigerian roads. A
lifetime of study and research, gone. All the knowledge, wasted. There
are only 10 female professors of Dramatic Arts in Nigeria. Now, one of
them was gone, consumed by rapacious Nigerian roads. One mind less, one
world less.
The
Adesina family of Ipetumodu, in Ife North Local Government Area of Osun
State had a patriarch in John Oyebade Adesina, an educationist, who was
the first African principal of St Charles Grammar School, Osogbo, in
the 1960s. The school was easily the best in the then Western Region,
producing students who shone like stars in the West African School
Certificate of Education. From there, the dyed-in-the-wool educationist
was transferred to Notre Dame College, Usi-Ekiti. He retired from there
to his Ipetumodu homestead in 1971, where his seven children were
brought up under what was akin to a ‘military regime.’ He ran the home
just exactly as he ran the school.
Adesina family of Ipetumodu, in Ife North Local Government Area of Osun
State had a patriarch in John Oyebade Adesina, an educationist, who was
the first African principal of St Charles Grammar School, Osogbo, in
the 1960s. The school was easily the best in the then Western Region,
producing students who shone like stars in the West African School
Certificate of Education. From there, the dyed-in-the-wool educationist
was transferred to Notre Dame College, Usi-Ekiti. He retired from there
to his Ipetumodu homestead in 1971, where his seven children were
brought up under what was akin to a ‘military regime.’ He ran the home
just exactly as he ran the school.
All
of us grew up together, and became quite close, finding succour in one
another, and in our mother, whenever our father whipped us till we saw
stars. The patriarch passed on in 1985 (we had come to appreciate the
discipline imbued in us by then), the matriarch followed in 2013, but
the children remained inseparable. At any given time, you could have
three or four Adesina siblings in different parts of the world, pursuing
one professional thing or the other. Only Yewande, my immediate younger
sister, lives in the U.K permanently, with her family. But we were
always in touch. Foluke had created an email group of all seven of us,
and we communicated at the touch of a button. There was no separating
us. Till the blow of Boxing Day. Now, it is one mind less, one world
less.
of us grew up together, and became quite close, finding succour in one
another, and in our mother, whenever our father whipped us till we saw
stars. The patriarch passed on in 1985 (we had come to appreciate the
discipline imbued in us by then), the matriarch followed in 2013, but
the children remained inseparable. At any given time, you could have
three or four Adesina siblings in different parts of the world, pursuing
one professional thing or the other. Only Yewande, my immediate younger
sister, lives in the U.K permanently, with her family. But we were
always in touch. Foluke had created an email group of all seven of us,
and we communicated at the touch of a button. There was no separating
us. Till the blow of Boxing Day. Now, it is one mind less, one world
less.
In
1982, Foluke (by the way, all seven of us are on first name basis,
because we were brought up that way, and it is convenient for us) had
gone to serve at NTA Minna, in Niger State, after graduating from the
then University of Ife. She came back the following year, a completely
changed person. We were a religious family, of the Roman Catholic stock,
but in Minna, Foluke had met with the Pentecostals, and had become born
again.
1982, Foluke (by the way, all seven of us are on first name basis,
because we were brought up that way, and it is convenient for us) had
gone to serve at NTA Minna, in Niger State, after graduating from the
then University of Ife. She came back the following year, a completely
changed person. We were a religious family, of the Roman Catholic stock,
but in Minna, Foluke had met with the Pentecostals, and had become born
again.
She
has become an S.U, we screamed in mortification! What are you doing in
the midst of people who cry when they pray, who wear long faces, and go
about gently? Are you the one that killed Jesus? Our questions were
endless. Such people were called S.U, meaning members of the Scripture
Union. They believed in patterning their lives scrupulously after the
words of the Holy Bible, and were considered rather stuffy by other kind
of Christians.
has become an S.U, we screamed in mortification! What are you doing in
the midst of people who cry when they pray, who wear long faces, and go
about gently? Are you the one that killed Jesus? Our questions were
endless. Such people were called S.U, meaning members of the Scripture
Union. They believed in patterning their lives scrupulously after the
words of the Holy Bible, and were considered rather stuffy by other kind
of Christians.
We
needled Foluke endlessly, and did all we could to test the quality of
her conversion. She held on to her newfound faith, through master’s
degree, marriage, Ph.D, professorship, and all the days of her life. No
looking back. She had just left the annual retreat of the Deeper Life
Bible Church, a day before she met her death. She had spoken with me on
getting home, with me not knowing it was valedictory. But what happened
to all her scoffing brothers and sisters over the 32-year period in
which Foluke was a born again Christian?
needled Foluke endlessly, and did all we could to test the quality of
her conversion. She held on to her newfound faith, through master’s
degree, marriage, Ph.D, professorship, and all the days of her life. No
looking back. She had just left the annual retreat of the Deeper Life
Bible Church, a day before she met her death. She had spoken with me on
getting home, with me not knowing it was valedictory. But what happened
to all her scoffing brothers and sisters over the 32-year period in
which Foluke was a born again Christian?
Hear our youngest brother, Dr
Olubiyi Adesina, a consultant endocrinologist, in a tribute paid to our
sister at her burial in Ibadan last weekend: “I remember the early 80s
when my older siblings used to make fun of your newfound S.U status. To
me as a young boy, S.Us must have been goblins. To now imagine that all
that laughed then are now all S.Us. You started the revolution in the
family. Thank you for being a good example.”
Foluke
faithfully served the Lord she loved dearly for 32 years, using her
skills as a dramatist for evangelism. Even as an academic, she took part
in many stage plays, films and concerts, all to expand the Kingdom of
God on earth. She was also Fellow of many associations in Nigeria and
abroad. She became a professor in 2011, a position backdated by five
years.
Olubiyi Adesina, a consultant endocrinologist, in a tribute paid to our
sister at her burial in Ibadan last weekend: “I remember the early 80s
when my older siblings used to make fun of your newfound S.U status. To
me as a young boy, S.Us must have been goblins. To now imagine that all
that laughed then are now all S.Us. You started the revolution in the
family. Thank you for being a good example.”
Foluke
faithfully served the Lord she loved dearly for 32 years, using her
skills as a dramatist for evangelism. Even as an academic, she took part
in many stage plays, films and concerts, all to expand the Kingdom of
God on earth. She was also Fellow of many associations in Nigeria and
abroad. She became a professor in 2011, a position backdated by five
years.
Time,
like an ever rolling stream, has borne her daughter away. But she would
not fly forgotten as a dream, which dies at the opening of day. Foluke
will always be remembered by her siblings: Wunmi, Tayo, Femi, Yewande,
Yemi, and Biyi. Her son, Oluwaseun, her husband, Engineer Segun
Ogunleye, and scores of others on whose lives she made great impact,
will never forget her.
It
is said that as mere mortals, we must never ask God questions. Yes, God
is sovereign, but one would not stop wondering why Heaven was so much
in a hurry, as to take Foluke now. If Heaven had waited for 20 or 30
years more, would she not have come home one day? Heaven, you needn’t be
in such haste, for we shall all come. But let it be in due times and
seasons.
like an ever rolling stream, has borne her daughter away. But she would
not fly forgotten as a dream, which dies at the opening of day. Foluke
will always be remembered by her siblings: Wunmi, Tayo, Femi, Yewande,
Yemi, and Biyi. Her son, Oluwaseun, her husband, Engineer Segun
Ogunleye, and scores of others on whose lives she made great impact,
will never forget her.
It
is said that as mere mortals, we must never ask God questions. Yes, God
is sovereign, but one would not stop wondering why Heaven was so much
in a hurry, as to take Foluke now. If Heaven had waited for 20 or 30
years more, would she not have come home one day? Heaven, you needn’t be
in such haste, for we shall all come. But let it be in due times and
seasons.
I
grieved deeply for my sister. I still ache and mourn. As the funeral
service held at the Deeper Life Bible Church in Ibadan last weekend, it
was as if the service should never end. The fact that her corpse was in
the casket inside the church still gave some sort of cold comfort. But
the service must inevitably end. And ended it did. As the casket was
borne out, and knowing that interment was only few minutes away, I broke
down completely. I wept. Yes, didn’t Jesus also weep?
grieved deeply for my sister. I still ache and mourn. As the funeral
service held at the Deeper Life Bible Church in Ibadan last weekend, it
was as if the service should never end. The fact that her corpse was in
the casket inside the church still gave some sort of cold comfort. But
the service must inevitably end. And ended it did. As the casket was
borne out, and knowing that interment was only few minutes away, I broke
down completely. I wept. Yes, didn’t Jesus also weep?
I broke down, and
when Dr Yemi Ogunbiyi, former Head of Department of Dramatic Arts in
Ife, and Foluke’s former teacher, came to console me, he had a hard job
of getting me to stop crying. He ushered me into a vehicle, and that was
where eminent virologist, and former oil minister, Prof Tam David-West
came to pay his condolence. The man too was weeping, and I conveniently
joined him. It was simply a festival of tears, as many sympathizers
could not hold their emotions in check. When Foluke and Tayo had been
named professors within a week of each other, I had hosted them to a
reception in Ibadan. Prof David-West had been chairman of the event, he
gave the professorial charge, so he knew my sister well.
when Dr Yemi Ogunbiyi, former Head of Department of Dramatic Arts in
Ife, and Foluke’s former teacher, came to console me, he had a hard job
of getting me to stop crying. He ushered me into a vehicle, and that was
where eminent virologist, and former oil minister, Prof Tam David-West
came to pay his condolence. The man too was weeping, and I conveniently
joined him. It was simply a festival of tears, as many sympathizers
could not hold their emotions in check. When Foluke and Tayo had been
named professors within a week of each other, I had hosted them to a
reception in Ibadan. Prof David-West had been chairman of the event, he
gave the professorial charge, so he knew my sister well.
A
week before the burial, journalist, pastor and activist, Richard
Akinnola, had given me a book written by Ukraine-based Pastor Sunday
Adelaja. The book is titled “Myles Munroe: Finding Answers To Why Good
People Die Tragic And Early Deaths.” I read the 192-page book, and I
must confess that it gave me a lot of relief. Myles Munroe, a great
Christian preacher had died in tragic circumstances in 2014, and the
author used him, supported by Scripture, to show that death is really
gain. The manner of death, he submitted, does not matter. What matters,
according to him, was to fulfill our purpose in life, “and die empty.”
week before the burial, journalist, pastor and activist, Richard
Akinnola, had given me a book written by Ukraine-based Pastor Sunday
Adelaja. The book is titled “Myles Munroe: Finding Answers To Why Good
People Die Tragic And Early Deaths.” I read the 192-page book, and I
must confess that it gave me a lot of relief. Myles Munroe, a great
Christian preacher had died in tragic circumstances in 2014, and the
author used him, supported by Scripture, to show that death is really
gain. The manner of death, he submitted, does not matter. What matters,
according to him, was to fulfill our purpose in life, “and die empty.”
But
Foluke still had a lot to give to the academia, to scholarship, to
society, to her family, even to Christendom. Can one say she died empty?
Well, questions abound. We do not understand it all. The things that
are revealed are for men, while the ones that are hidden are for God. We
will understand it better by and by.
Foluke still had a lot to give to the academia, to scholarship, to
society, to her family, even to Christendom. Can one say she died empty?
Well, questions abound. We do not understand it all. The things that
are revealed are for men, while the ones that are hidden are for God. We
will understand it better by and by.
Messages
of condolence came from all corners of the land, and even beyond, to
the Adesina family. President Buhari, Vice President Yemi Osinbajo,
former presidents, clerics, illustrious Nigerians, and people from all
walks of life, sympathized with us. I thank you all. The Good Book says
it is through much afflictions and trials that we will enter into the
Kingdom of God. But this one was sure too hard on us. It would be hard
on anybody.
“We
were a party of men (and women) walking together, seeing, feeling,
understanding the same world. But with a sudden snap, one of us was
gone. One mind less, one world less.” Seven has now become six. Very
sad.
of condolence came from all corners of the land, and even beyond, to
the Adesina family. President Buhari, Vice President Yemi Osinbajo,
former presidents, clerics, illustrious Nigerians, and people from all
walks of life, sympathized with us. I thank you all. The Good Book says
it is through much afflictions and trials that we will enter into the
Kingdom of God. But this one was sure too hard on us. It would be hard
on anybody.
“We
were a party of men (and women) walking together, seeing, feeling,
understanding the same world. But with a sudden snap, one of us was
gone. One mind less, one world less.” Seven has now become six. Very
sad.
At
times, while crying at the loss of my sister, I remember our parents,
particularly my mother. She left just two years and five months ago. And
I then understand why God took her when He did. If my mother had been
around to witness the death of any of her children, it would have been
too hard on her. She had died happy in 2013, knowing that all her
children were accounted for. When I wept, therefore, it was partly in
thankfulness that Mama was gone without her eyes seeing evil. God knew
what was to happen on December 26,2015, and so took her ahead of time.
But then, couldn’t God have stopped the crushing blow of Boxing Day? He
could. So, why didn’t He? I stop, before I land in a theological
labyrinth, from which I can’t extricate myself.
times, while crying at the loss of my sister, I remember our parents,
particularly my mother. She left just two years and five months ago. And
I then understand why God took her when He did. If my mother had been
around to witness the death of any of her children, it would have been
too hard on her. She had died happy in 2013, knowing that all her
children were accounted for. When I wept, therefore, it was partly in
thankfulness that Mama was gone without her eyes seeing evil. God knew
what was to happen on December 26,2015, and so took her ahead of time.
But then, couldn’t God have stopped the crushing blow of Boxing Day? He
could. So, why didn’t He? I stop, before I land in a theological
labyrinth, from which I can’t extricate myself.
Foluke, sleep well. I am sure our father’s clock, which used to rouse all of us at 4.45 a.m,
would not chime in Heaven. Sleep all you want, till the day of
resurrection. The old educationist wouldn’t be whipping you out of bed,
like in those days of yore, for refusing to respond to the alarm bell at
the height of harmattan.
would not chime in Heaven. Sleep all you want, till the day of
resurrection. The old educationist wouldn’t be whipping you out of bed,
like in those days of yore, for refusing to respond to the alarm bell at
the height of harmattan.