Muritala Adérògbà Àjàdí: 90 hearty cheers to the light of my younger life, By Adéwálé Àjàdí

For this 90th birthday reflection, I call you, my late father, ‘Rogba, not as a sign of disrespect but as a term of endearment and a conscious effort to humanise you, apart from being my Superhero and the light of my younger life, who was so close but yet distant.

He would have turned 90 today, and on reflection, calling him “Daddy” this many years after he left this world seems to infantilise me on the sixth floor. I have many names in my head and heart for him, like Alhaji, Daddy, or my favourite when I read his files and documents: Muri. For over 30 years now, I have yet to go through all my father’s documents, but the many that I have read reveal him as an incredible man with such a breadth of engagement that he deserves celebration regularly.

This is especially true on the day when he would have turned 90 years. His spirit, or mine, settles on ‘Rogba since the full name Aderogba connects with the force of an entire sentence, especially as a prayer. For this 90th birthday reflection, I call you, my late father, ‘Rogba, not as a sign of disrespect but as a term of endearment and a conscious effort to humanise you, apart from being my Superhero and the light of my younger life, who was so close but yet distant.

Yes, Rogba, because that is the name you gave one of my sons that he is rarely ever called, but also because now that I am on the sixth floor, calling you Daddy now seems so ridiculously childish. Also, because I see your youngest son-in-law with his father, and they are like friends, something that it would have been great to share with you, and which in my imagination I do. A few days ago, the IPO of the Dangote Refinery shares was launched, and I know you would have invested in it grudgingly. Your incredible portfolio of shares is still not fully realised. I remember when I came from Ife to ask you to invest in the NICON NUGA Hilton on my behalf, and you thought it would be a poor investment. I discovered later that you invested in it; and your point was that I should work to build my own wealth.

I now understand some of your layers, along with reasons, especially what seemed to me a discipline for detachment and self-control. I have spent decades reading your correspondence, mapping receipts, compiling minutes and asset documents, and there are a few conclusions. You were one of the kindest people ever: the many people’s school fees up to the university level who are not family members that you paid, even after the passing of your Alhaja.

I thank you also for looking after Mama Gate after Alhaja passed. I saw that you paid off the charge on her house on Old Ife Road, including the fact that Cooperative Bank attached it to your pension. You could have influenced them to detach it and not pay the outstanding amount. This is your kindness, even though she was unforgiving of the loss of her daughter at a young age.

When you were alive, she seemed to be the instigator of your largesse towards others. This is not the full truth; yes when she was alive, you were a team, but your giving continued after she died; it was well hidden and unheralded. You were a very emotional man, not as emotive as I thought, whose concern for your community was fundamental to your character. Like Alhaja, your confidence was severely hit by the loss of the Sema Stores Road Haulage Business. You were a banker, not really a businessman, in spite of your many business commitments after leaving the Bank.

I love you so fundamentally that I try to amplify the best of you in me and challenge the inevitable flaws as part of a seemingly ridiculous commitment to metacognition.

What a blast to imagine you around at 90, being at your darling Motunrayo’s 40th birthday and engaging with her children. She is the only banker among us; your Abimbola did dabble in banking too, but she is now in the world of oil and gas. Yes, I saw in both your’s and Alhaja’s documents that you had a brief excursion in that business. I often wonder, reading through the documents, what drove your business interests: was it what came across your table, or the company you were both keeping? I know you would invest in Dangote Refinery, as this is consistent with your portfolio profile.

I thank you also for looking after Mama Gate after Alhaja passed. I saw that you paid off the charge on her house on Old Ife Road, including the fact that Cooperative Bank attached it to your pension. You could have influenced them to detach it and not pay the outstanding amount. This is your kindness, even though she was unforgiving of the loss of her daughter at a young age. Your grandchildren and great-grandchildren from across the world thank you.

‘Rogba, you remain my best friend aside from my wife. In my head, heart, and spirit, we have this dialogue about my intentions and choices. You were very conservative and cautious, but after all, you were a banker. All is well with us here, celebrating you and your legacy through our decisions.

Even as the world changes, the words you spoke come alive like they are embossed for eternity. I remember you always telling me the “Sky is the limit”; for many years, it sounded like platitudes, now I have lived it from the Equality Foundation and till forever. I remember you used to remind me that it took more muscles to frown than to smile. I disagreed, and it is now an unfortunate habit affecting my parasympathetic system.

‘Rogba, you remain my best friend aside from my wife. In my head, heart, and spirit, we have this dialogue about my intentions and choices. You were very conservative and cautious, but after all, you were a banker. All is well with us here, celebrating you and your legacy through our decisions.

Adio omo elerin mosa, omo elewe ladogba, omo igi kan igi kan to dina l’erin ni popo alawe, ti ko je omo elerin le roko, ti ko je iwofa elerin le rodo. Omo Ibikunle oloke agbangbase, okansoso ajanaku, kiniun onibudo alagbala ijaya. Omo sheyi omo shoun omo shoun ogbomoso. Adio kiye seni sun re o.

I wish you a wonderful and blessed heavenly 90th birthday my father.

Adéwálé Àjàdí, a lawyer, creative consultant and leadership expert, is author of the newly released Afrilition: 21st Century African Manifesto, and Omoluwabi 2.0: A Code of Transformation in 21st Century Nigeria.