Wale Adebanwi on Mama h.i.d. (25)

The right foot for joy, the left dread

And the mother prayed, Child

May you never walk

When the road waits, famished.

–              Wole Soyinka, “Death in the Dawn”.

For him who was…..

Death the scrap-iron dealer

Breeds a glut on trade. The fault

Is His of seven paths whose whim

Gave death his agency…..

–              Wole Soyinka, “In memory of Segun Awolowo”.

 

OMOTOLA AWOLOWO DRESSED UP QUICKLY so as to join her brother, Olusegun, in the adjoining building. It was early morning on July 10, 1963, and the 22-year old had something urgent to tell her brother who would be travelling to Lagos that morning to see their father in Lagos over his on-going treason trial.

The night before, Omotola had stayed up late together in her elder brother’s flat, talking about the darkness that was descending over the region, specifically, and the country, generally, and the burden that their family had borne in the context of this. In the course of their discussion of the detention of their father and the humiliation that he and their mother – who was staying in Lagos so as to take care of him in jail – were experiencing, they both shed tears and consoled each other. They had done so many months since Tola, as her brother sometimes called her (he also called her aburo), retuned from England late in 1962. They were the only two left in the compound, as their three other siblings were either in school or in Ikenne. Wole, Tola’s immediate younger brother, who had also returned from the UK was living in Ikenne. Ayo and Tokunbo, their two youngest siblings were in boarding school. Ayo was at Ibadan Grammar School where she was studying for the Higher School Certificate (HSC), while Tokunbo was at St. Anne’s, Molete.

Even though his mother, Hannah, had built a house for him in Oke-Ado, not too far from Molete, Ibadan, Segun, as he was popularly called, was still staying in his parents’ house because of the political crisis in which his father was one of the principal victims. He had returned to Nigeria a trained lawyer from the UK in the middle of the crisis the previous year and had to meet his father under restriction. He didn’t want to leave his sister, Tola, alone in the compound, so he decided that he would stay in the house until the crisis was over. Segun was also helping to run his father’s chambers which office is in the building in front of his flat within the Awolowos’ home in Oke-Ado.

In spite of the crisis, Hannah, who by this time had become a woman of considerable means, ensured that her two children in Ibadan lived in relative comfort. She bought a Peugeot 403 for Segun as soon as the young barrister returned to Nigeria. When Tola followed, she bought the beautiful 22-year old a sleek Triumph car (open roof). Both were overjoyed by their mother’s kindness. More than five decades later, now in her mid-70s, Tola Oyediran praises her mother for the thoughtfulness.

“It was a difficult time, hard times. But Mama is such a blessing. Terrible things were happening. Papa was already under house arrest, yet Mama knew that we would need vehicles to move around (in Ibadan),” says the lady cleric.

While her brother practiced law, Tola worked with Shell International, at their Jericho, Ibadan office. (She later joined the University of Ibadan, as the Secretary to the famous historian, Professor J.F. Ade-Ajayi).

“Aburo”.

“Broda Segun,” she answered.

“I want you to keep this money for me. I don’t want us to be going back and forth to get money from the bank. I will need to do so many things as the treasonable felony case proceeds in Lagos. Also, you know we need some things in the house. Please, make sure everything is OK in the house”.

It was the night of July 9, 1963 when Segun called his sister to his flat. He reminded her that he would be travelling to Lagos the next day to see their father in relation to his ongoing treasonable felony trial. Their mother, Hannah Awolowo, stayed in a rented apartment in Somolu, Lagos Mainland, while their father, Obafemi Awolowo, was then detained at the Broad Street Prisons, Lagos Island. He wanted her to keep most of the money while spending some of it to buy food and other things needed in the house.

In the absence of his parents who were in Lagos, Segun had become the acting head of the home in Ibadan. A lot of responsibilities had been entrusted to him, including the management of resources. Such was the confidence that his parents had in him that they put him in charge of large sums of money which may be needed at any point for both the legal and political battles ahead. He too didn’t want to leave money in the house without entrusting it to his sister whom he also trusted as his parents trusted him.

Segun handed over twenty-five thousand pounds (25,000) to Tola. Why did Segun handover such a large amount of money to his sister when he was planning to return to Ibadan in a couple of days? She would never know. Did he have premonition that he might not be available to provide the money when needed? A premonition of death? Highly unlikely; He was so full of life and had so many plans in the offing. In fact, he was expecting a child – who was eventually born posthumously, and named after him – in a few months.

If Segun didn’t have any premonition of death, his sister did. Between the night of July 9 and the morning of July 10, Tola Awolowo dreamt that her brother travelled to Lagos but never returned…..

FOR A WOMAN WHO WAS absolutely devoted to the comfort and triumph of her husband, even in those desperate conditions under restriction in Lekki, Hannah still ensured that Obafemi Awolowo enjoyed his favourite dish of pounded yam and fresh fish. But it was difficult to find a way to grind pepper and pound yam on the island. But she found a way. Edward Taiwo an engineer who was working with the Public Works Department, Ibadan, though a civil servant remained faithful to the Awolowos. From Ibadan, he obliged Hannah by bringing grinding stones (ilota) and mortar and pestle (odo ati omo odo) to pound yam. Thus, even in restriction, Hannah ensured that her husband never lacked access to his best dish.

But even the satisfaction of this meal of pounded yam and fresh fish was nothing compared with the joy of the news that reached the couple in Lekki that Segun had passed his bar examination and had been called to the bar in the Inner Temple in London. His father could not leave Lekki to rejoice with him in the UK, neither could the mother. Yet, Hannah quickly left Lekki to return to Ikenne and Ibadan to not only send money to her son in London for the celebration, but to also have a small celebration in Nigeria to mark the occasion of their great joy. This was some light in the middle of all the darkness. It was while celebrating Segun’s call to the bar that she heard the news that her husband would return to Ikenne to be restricted there. That was some relief in the context of the joy of Segun’s accomplishment.

Olusegun Awolowo was a brilliant, good-looking, affable and humorous young man. He had what his younger brother, Oluwole, described as “enormous power of application”. No parent could have asked for a greater blessing. His mother adored him; for his father, he was the embodiment of all the benedictions of his posterity. As the first son, he was what is known in the Yoruba culture as the arole, the heir-apparent, pillar of the Awolowo lineage. He combined the beauty and acuity of his mother with the intellect and equability of his father.

He was also a very generous person. It was long after he was gone that many people came forward to reveal the help he had rendered to them. His daughter, Funke, recalls that even twenty-four years after her father’s death – that is shortly after the death of her grandfather, Obafemi Awolowo died in 1987 – Chief Olu Falae, the then Secretary to the Federal Military Government and later presidential candidate, told her brother, Segun Jr. that their father, bought him his first good pair of shoes.

TO BE CONTINUED

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