Yesterday, a remarkable lying-in-state was held here in Ibadan for one of Nigeria’s remarkable men, the first Professor of Medicine in the nation, Emeritus Professor Theophilus Oladipo Ogunlesi.
He had lived a remarkable life, leaving indelible footprints on the sands of time. I gushed over his tributes. I gushed even more at the successes that didn’t just trail his long life but that of his children too, all of whom are still alive and successful, and one of whom is the famous Adebayo Ogunlesi, the owner of Gatwick airport and about 4 other international airports.
Theophilus Ogunlesi was 99 years old. He’d have been 100 in June this year.
This morning, still gushy about the late Emeritus’ life, I got news about the passing of Baba Lakondoro, the lifelong chairman of Shooting Stars Football Club and its oldest supporter.
An ebullient old man. I met him a handful of times, particularly in the past few months, with his memory still as available as morning dew. One will always leave his presence with an earful of stories and history which he told and relived quite animatedly.
He died this morning. He was 111 years old. Yes, one hundred and eleven years.
Earlier this year, in February particularly, I was with a nonagenarian client, and with us were his lastborn and some grandchildren who were my agemates. We, the youngins present, were bantering about life and its pleasures, while also sharing our share of challenges about our projects and dreams.
Baba interjected at one point to offer some insight, after which he made a sentence to end his thoughts to us.
The 90-year-old remarked, “…Life is like an airport, and I am already at the departure lounge, sitting comfortably and just waiting for my flight. I pray you all experience the same…”
The remark was so stinging I forgot to say “amen” to the prayer it bore. He made that statement with an aura of satiety, completeness, and felicity I couldn’t miss. I saw a fullness in his eyes, and read a satisfaction from his lips. It looked like, “Thank you Life, it has been a pleasure.”
I envied his fate.
I envy their fate. Theophilus Ogunlesi, Baba Lakondoro, and my nonagenarian client.
Living life so fully and successfully that death loses its sting and becomes bliss. It’s a fate that I believe trumps life and its vicissitudes in no small measure.
Then, this afternoon, I was in the middle of writing a copy in honour of Baba Lakondoro’s departure when I received news of the sudden passing of Adewunmi-Adebisi Adenike.
I hung.
It happens again.
The untimely, sudden, and largely INEXPLICABLE death of a younger human with a lot to still live for. It happens again, and my mind is flung out into a pasture of confusion and a desert scorching with questions.
Death, who do you answer to?
On whose orders do you act?
On whose terms do you enact your actions?
Why are you, Ikú, pleasant to some and then rude in a blink, to others?
Adenike made 13 Facebook posts yesterday – active, alive, and here – then the suddenness of you, Ikú, happens, like you did with “him,” “her,” and that person we all had or knew in their prime; leaving us with a finality that yet lingers.
Death, who gives the order?
Ikú, I ask again, who do you answer to?
In the end, Life is just a bemusing tease, and you realize you can’t blame those who choose to think less of it or care less about it.
My thoughts are with Mrs. Adenike’s family at this very difficult time.
©️Sayo Aluko
