He loved Irish cream, in its absence, red wine, he was a powerful dresser

•The fun, lighter side of Chief Ayo Adebanjo, my father (beyond in-law)

This day—when we mourn and cherish the memories of our dearly departed, heap eulogies and tributes—will definitely come for all. And it is the turn of my father—not my father-in-law—as he treated me like his flesh and blood. Our relationship was like father and son.

Please, come along with me as I depart from the regular, hard, official, no-nonsense political stories Nigerians are fond of repeating about Chief Ayo Adebanjo…

We truly, deeply shared a lot in common. That explains why we got along very well. My respect and loyalty to him was total. And this was quite easy for me because I lost my father long before I dated and later got married to his daughter, Adeola. He perfectly filled that role, that vacuum in my life. The usual “jealousy” between biological father and father-in-law was non-existent, ab initio, because I was already an orphan when I met him. The feeling, I must say, was mutual.

I will forever cherish those intimate moments we shared, particularly the lonely nights towards the end of his life, up until his very final breath on that fateful day, Friday, February 14th, a day devoted to love across the globe.

When I was travelling to England in April 2024, and he asked how long I would be away and I said December, his response jolted me. He said: “Olorun a je ko ba mi” [I hope I would still be alive by the time you are back].

So, dutifully, when I arrived in England, I would do a video call (thank God for technology) to him, at least, twice a week. Every time I called, he would say, “Hadji Be ti lah (an alias he sometimes called me).

Assalamu alaykum waramotullah

Awwabarakatuh. And I would say: “Waleikhum salaam waramotullah wabarakatuh.” His mother was a Muslim.

On one occasion, my wife was on a video call with me while she was in his room. Curiously, he asked who she was video calling because he noticed he wasn’t getting her attention. When she said “Biodun”, his response was: “Aaah, oko e to ma nre mi te ko to lo si London. Ba mi ki o” [Aaah, your husband that always puts me to bed before he left me for London. Say hello to him].

Fast forward, I came back few days to Christmas and there he was—alive and kicking. I rubbed it in and said, “Daddee, I told you we would do Christmas together.” And he teased, smiling: “Ma tan ra e. Se iwo ni Olorun ni? Abi o fe so wipe Baba 96 ti kere ju lati ku? Is it the cow that you will buy that is your problem?” [Keep deceiving yourself. Are you trying to play God? Am I too young to die at 96?…].

Much later in his life, he often woke up late and slept late. Religiously, I got to his house, about 9 p.m., just in time for Arise News. He would have watched Seun Okinbaloye’s Politics Today on Channels TV at 7 p.m.

At 10:00 pm, he switched to Channels News. Deafening TV volume. The set had two external speakers—for theatre effect. Nobody could get his attention at these times.

Few days to 2024 Christmas, he ordered my wife to start preparing for his traditional trip to Ijebu— getting the olopos (caterers) ready to move to Ijebu to cook for his townspeople for Christmas and New Year—his age-long ritual. He never spent Christmas/New Year outside Ogbo. His nurses and house helps were also meant to be on that trip.

Because he wasn’t feeling too well, she tried all she could to discourage him. Unsuccessful, she sought his doctor, Ebun Bamgboye to talk to him. No luck. Then she called me in England to persuade him and we agreed that it would be better when I arrived Lagos as against discussing such a serious issue with him on the phone.

I was shocked at his response. Before I could start, he shut me down saying, “Se iyawo e lo ron e si mi? Se ikoko le pe mi ni? I have told you when I die, I should be buried in Ijebu. So if I go to Ijebu for Christmas and I die there, shouldn’t that be a relief for you? Please, don’t go further on that issue.”

There is this joke he made about me over 30 years ago, on the night of our wedding.

This happened in his living room in Ijebu during the private session they had for us as we were heading back to Lagos for the groom’s family party.

Everybody that mattered to the two families was all seated in the living room. My aunties and uncles were all there. My father-in-law’s father was also there. My mother-in-law too was present. And so were Papa Onasanya, Chief Olanihun Ajayi, Papa Adesanya, etc.

Everyone prayed for us one after the other. Then it was his turn. After his prayer, he asked me a thought-provoking question. There was dead silence after the question. I was speechless, clueless on what to say. He was visibly infuriated because he asked the question more than three times without any response from me. I looked everywhere in search of the answer, but nobody seemed to have an answer to his question.

His question: “Have you seen her (Adeola) nakedness since you started dating?” I didn’t know whether he wanted me to lie or say the truth. When I looked at his eyes, after the third attempt, and saw how dead serious he was, I knew he was serious and had to say something. So, I answered in the affirmative. Everybody present laughed. He didn’t, still looking very serious.

Then he asked, “Did you see any mark on her body.” I said, “No, sir.”

Then he added, “Please, don’t ever beat her when you have issues because there will always be issues.”

Then everyone heaved a sigh of relief when they all realised where he was headed.

He loved Irish cream. In its absence, red wine. He was a powerful dresser. He would say: Oyinbo to se aso, ko se fitting [That you wear a costly, well tailored dress doesn’t guarantee fitness on you].

He fought death, in his last days, with all his might. Never bothered. Never gave up, always singing his favorite religious hymns. And he never wasted time to joke about death.

One day, he narrated how he got to the gate of heaven, and his mother sent him back to the world that he had not finished his assignment. He added that it was my wife’s intercession (prayers) that thwarted his exit. He would say he was done and eager to go meet his friends in heaven.

As in life, he was a fighter before he finally bid us farewell.

Sadly, he was unfulfilled the way he left Nigeria and often wondered the story he would tell the likes of Papa Awo and co when they meet in heaven.

Mr ’Biodun Azeez is son-in-law to Chief Ayo Adebanjo.

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