Where do I begin to describe a man that for over 31 years, I have fondly called Daddy
Before meeting him in person, my first interaction with Daddy was through a letter. Those who knew Daddy well will know that he could write! His pen flowed effortlessly; his writings were crafted with dexterity and poise.
When we finally met in person, just before Dunni (his daughter) and I wed in December 1993, he received me warmly, such that any apprehension of a young man meeting his future father-in-law for the first time vanished immediately. From then on, the relationship between Daddy and I grew into a father-son relationship, and beyond that, we became like buddies.
Despite living in England for over 62 years, Daddy was very sound in his native Yoruba language (and Ijebu tongue), often quoting and interspersing his conversations with some deep Yoruba adages and proverbs. On many occasions, during our long phone conversations, I would grab a pen and paper to write down the words and proverbs. Daddy, guessing correctly that I did not understand the proverbs, would always take time to explain their meanings. I wish I had them recorded. They are gems of wisdom.
Daddy was a consummate storyteller. I got to hear stories of his childhood, growing up in his beloved Ibefun, and about his industrious and enterprising mother with her ‘’gari’ (cassava flour) making and catering business. He often recalled to me the process of making the gari, packaging it, carrying it to the market, and selling to merchants who transported them by boat to Lagos. He remembered the price of each bag of gari and how much was made at the end of the market trip, as he was the ‘bookkeeper.’ He would wake up very early, around 5am, to help with both the catering and gari making business, along with other house chores and responsibilities, before heading to school. No surprise then, that Daddy grew up to become a hardworking, diligent, reliable and conscientious worker, qualities that earned him huge honours and the highest accolades in his places of work both in Nigeria and in the UK.
Daddy had an outstanding memory of his childhood and younger days. He would give vivid description of events going way back to the 40s, 50s and 60s, including names of people, places, addresses and dates. I enjoyed listening to his stories which contained vital life lessons and morals, from which I benefitted greatly. During our conversations he would often divert from the subject at hand to embark on another childhood spiel with much enthusiasm, as though he was telling the story the first time! Sometimes, 30 minutes into the story, I would be tempted to say to him ‘Daddy, you’ve told me that one before’ but I never did. Mainly out of respect, but more importantly, because he was enjoying telling the story and having someone listen to it, AGAIN! One thing Daddy would always do though is thank you for listening to him. He said this after almost every chat.
This tribute will not be complete without adding that Daddy loved his music and was a good dancer as well. He was particularly fond of the classics by Chief Ebenezer Obey and King Sunny Ade (KSA). He once told me that he hosted KSA and friends in his house when they visited England in the 80s. On several occasions, when I called Daddy, he would put me on hold to turn down the music. You could hear Ebenezer Obey or KSA blaring in the background, and when he returned to the phone you could hear the joy in his voice. I guess those times were his own private entertainment hour.
I will miss Daddy greatly. He was very kind to me. He was a simple, humble, intelligent and easy-going man. For many years and definitely since moving to the UK, I ceased to see him as my father-in-law. He had become a father to me.
Thank you, Daddy. Thank you for welcoming and receiving me as your son.
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