TRIBUTES TO DEAR DEPARTED ONES

Kemi was one of the few persons I had close contact with when I first entered MBHS.  At the end of day on my first day , we went to Race Course area (Now Tafawa Balewa Square. We went to 'Love Gardens', as it was then called. It was a park and a playground with a couple of thin mowed football fields and many very tall coconut trees. Six of us were there; Kemi Banjo, Ismaila Delupe, Kunle Edalere, Bosun Davies and Fidelis Chukwuka  ( by the way, has anyone seen or heard from Fidelis Chukwuka?). There may have been one or two other guys that I can't recall right now! The guys wanted to show me who and who was on the class B's soccer team, and also how much fun we could all have after school each day. There was a big swimming pool next to Love Gardens, and across the street was the Museum of Art and History. Love Gardens became an amusement park owned by some Asian businessmen. The Museum of Art and History became Museum Kitchen. I don't know if the kitchen actually served real food, but I believe it developed into some influential person's capitalist idea to make some bucks. There have been apparent transformation in those cluster of real estate beyond what some of us can recognize now. And time has moved on since those days when as teenager we went to play at Love Gardens. All of us, from that time, have moved in the directions, and into what was written for us.  But these are what comes off my mind immediately when I think deeply about Kemi Banjo. As a person, he was hilarious. I thought he could have become a great comedian if he wanted to. Back then in our Form 2 Classroom, he used to do a live skit of  people who used to sell medicines on Molue buses.😀 It was very funny, and it made me laugh even now when I remember it. I think he also could have been a good footballer or soccer player if he wanted to. He was a good dribbler of the ball. All of these I fondly remember of Kemi Banjo. May his soul rest in peace. May God grant his family and friends the fortitude and comfort they need at this time. Amen🌹

MY MOM OF BLESSED MEMORIES

I thank everyone who has posted a felicitation message here or sent it directly to me in respect of my remembrance of my mother of blessed memories  -   Mother Ebunola Adunni Babalola. I pray for you all that 'ọmọ rere á gbẹ̀yìn gbogbo wa o' - May we all also leave good children after us as part of our legacy - to cherish and  remember in their thoughts and prayers, our good parental deeds and sacrifice. I am deeply touched and 'blown away' by comments prayers and heartwarming reactions extended by neighbours, family members friends, acquaintances, and relatives near and far, especially on this platform (Facebook) in connection with the remembrance of my mom on her posthumous birthday anniversary. In appreciation of all those goodwill messages, I have decided to share my thoughts on that day of remembrance. On that day I suddenly felt the need to do something special. I felt the need to leave my house and go to a place where I could be involved with any good activity that can be of some benefit to anyone available, and also bring me some joy. Before my mom passed on in 2014, that place of refuge was her place, the family house on Lagos Island. These days I go to the house of one close friend or another in ordinary time to 'chill out' and see what joy and benefits one can exchange with the world. Back in the day before 2014, whenever I was in town I would be at my mom's at least once in two weeks, usually over the weekend, sometimes from Friday night to Sunday evening. It was the family house with a lot of space. There were relatives and caregivers there to take care of her, but I always felt the need to go and see for myself that everything was going according to my desire and plans. 

At that time also, my mom was advancing in years and I was concerned about her special needs and healthcare. Around her 79th birthday, she had started to feel progressively incapacitated as a result of a trauma from a fall which occurred in her room just after taking her bath. From then on it was difficult for her to perform her daily routines which included the five daily prayers. I remember one day when she tried to do the ablusion, prelude to a prayer. She tried as I looked on, to wash her face and clean her ears, but her hand could not reach above her shoulders, and she started to cry. I knew why she cried, so I felt terribly sorrowful too. I knew she was concerned about her inability to perform the prayer rites as she had been doing five times daily for so many years before that day. My siblings and I did what we could in terms of medical care and she got better, but it was off and on! Anyway, from that time, the need for the special care increased. I had to bathe for her whenever I was in her house, and the caregiver had to help when I was not. I was always happy when I could make some time to go there. She was always happy to see me. We ate and drank together. We shared thoughts and I pressed her to tell me stories about our early beginnings - the way things were back in our old home town of Efon Alaye, before Dad passed on in 1966. We had a lot of fun talking and reminiscing. She wasn't much of a talker, but I cherish all the great things she told me. She became a widow early in life, but that was after bearing her six children, yours truly being the very last of them. She never remarried .

After Dad died, she juggled the care of six children amidst troubling vicissitudes of life and abandonment by many  relatives in her mid years ( May God bless those who came round to help with some things). But she survived, thanks to God for His grace and the great motherly support of my grand mom, Mama Shebolatan Aina Okundaye, a yam merchant who was based in Lagos in those turbulent years. Mom was unrelenting in the care and nurturing of us, particularly in respect of our education and psychological growth. She must have been very conscious and troubled about how hard it was for a middle aged widow with six children in what we can call a man's world. She didn't have a big network of friends, she was rather introverted. But she was very thoughtful. She wouldn't ask anyone for help unless it concerned something she couldn't possibly do for herself, and unless she was sure by instinct that the person would definitely do it. Watching her as I grew up, she became very resourceful, comfortable and happy. She was devoted to working hard to see that all her children became successful in life. By God's grace she achieved that objective. I remember one day when I was about five or six years old and needed to be enrolled in a primary school. This were the days when it was hard to place a child in school because of the dearth of educational facilities. That lack was relieved by the efforts and investments of Christian and Muslim missions alike in our country. Mom went through a lot at that time to find me a school, but eventually as God would have it, the new Principal of a nearby mission school, one Mr. Faleye came to my mom's shop to have a drink. In that instance, my mom mentioned her child's need for enrollment in a primary school, that was how I became a pupil of that mission school on Lagos Island, and the rest is history as they say!. 

Our education and other important things are always at the very top of my mom's mind. She didn't talk much about anything, but she was thoughtful and prayerful in her thoughts. She was rabidly patient, she knew how to wait for God's time. I was very young at the time, but I can imagine now how much trouble and struggle she had gone through to take care of my sibling, all of whom are older than me. For just me, I can tell tens and tens of stories about things of care carefully and quietly orchestrated and made available for my enjoyment, growth and progress. I remember another time when I was about 27 years old. I was fervently looking for a job after my Banking education in England. On one particular day, I had been out to attend a job interview, at Victoria Island, but I forgot to take an important document with me. So, I rushed back home to take it. Mom's shop was in front of the house. I had to get my document from my room on the top floor of the house. As I was in a big hurry I didn't stop by at the shop to greet my mom, but she saw me and called me, but I didn't go to meet her. I went straight upstairs to get the document. On my way out of the house my mom saw me again and called me. In my hurry I waved my hand signalling that I would be back soon, and that I was in a haste. I hurried down the street out of her view , but she pursued me and was yelling my name at the same time. At that point I knew she was calling me for something very important. I have always known that I had to trust her instinct in a scenario like that. So I turned back and went to meet her somewhere in the middle of the road on Glover Street. When I came close to her, she said "I want you to meet somebody!". She walked me back to her shop, and right in there was one Mr. Ogunwale ( a nice, gentle, friendly and very kind man, may his soul rest in peace). He was an accountant doing an audit work for a clearing agent firm located about two blocks away from our house. He came to Mom's shop for his luncheon Peppersoup and Malta Guinness. My mom had told him that her son had just returned from London and terribly in need of a job. She must have pointed me to him earlier as I crossed the front of the shop on my way into the house. I found out much later that Mr. Ogunwale also studied in England, and he probably had soft spots for 'poor foreign country returnee job seekers"! Anyway, when my mom brought me into the shop to meet him, he said in his very respectful and humble demeanour, "Mommy said you have ACIB (the British  banking professional qualifications) and you are in need of a job". I nodded and said yes sir at the same time. He quickly took his pen out and scribbled a few words on a small sheet of paper. He gave it to me and said "I want you to take this to my 'brother' at Central Bank of Nigeria. He might be able to find a job for you". I was happy. I trusted mom's instincts. She was sure I was going to get a job if I followed Mr. Ogunwale s lead. 

The next day I went to the Central Bank of Nigeria at Tinubu Square. Mr. Ogunwale's 'brother' turned out to be the erstwhile Director of Banking Examination, one Mr. Samuel Ologun ( one of the kindest and courteous human being I've ever met on this earth. May his gentle soul rest in peace). Mr. Ologun became Pastor Ologun after his retirement from CBN, he planted a small church and nurtured it until he passed on to glory not too long ago. The first time I met him in his office, he looked at my credentials and quickly brought out a long list of all banks in Nigeria. He asked me to choose one bank I wanted to work with. I was pleasantly intimidated by that experience because I was a greenhorn and didn't actually know Nigerian banks well enough to choose a good one from the pack. I didn't respond to his gesture and cue, so somehow he knew that I wanted him to choose for me. In the end he chose a new bank with some foreign affiliation and one with ostensible need for qualified employees in key areas. Like Mr Ogunwale, he too scribbled something on a small piece of paper and said " I want you to take this to the Managing  Director/CEO of this bank as soon as possible". I did what he said the next day. To cut the long story short, I started working in that bank a couple of weeks after meeting The CEO. There again I learned to trust my mother's instincts. My many months of job hunting came to a happy and fulfilling end. I think there is something special and supernatural about mothers and women in general, but I don't think they too are fully aware of how they are able to do some of the great stuff they do for us as their children, brothers or husbands, and those which they do for humanity as a whole. This makes me think that one should thank and show our gratitude to God who made them and place us in their loving care. Well, there is no doubt that there are women who show themselves as an exception to these great attribute, but I believe that they too possess the positive and adorable innate capabilities I'm talking about here, and they could activate it at will. May God bless all good women of the earth in great abundance.

So, while I was sitting in my house thinking about where to go and do some good, and also feel good about myself, the thought of my mom's house came naturally to me, but without the feeling that she had passed on to the great beyond ten years ago. When I recovered from that momentary oblivious reminiscence, my mind wondered into a personal story that a friend told me many years ago (1998 or thereabout) in Abuja. She was a customer of the bank where I worked in those days. She told me her mom had just died about a week before. That friend worked with one of the government agencies located at the Federal Secretariat. Her normal practice every Friday,after work,  was to stop by at the nearby market to buy fish and other food stuff. She would buy food for herself and a particular kind of fish for her mother to last at least one week. She would drop off the fish at her mother's and spend some time with her before going to her own house. So, on this particular Friday, she did her routine after work. She bought the fish for her mom, and when she got to the doorstep of her mother's house, it suddenly dawned on her that she had passed away a week before. She broke down and cried, and cried with the fish in her hand. She told me the story much later with tears of joy rolling down her cheeks. She was happy. She was happy that her mom lived a good life of dignity and service to humanity, and she passed on to glory at a good and ripe old age. She was happy that as a daughter, she had the privilege of being around physically to take good care of her mother until death. She was happy that she had a meaningful opportunity to reciprocate all the kind motherly care her mom gave her from birth to adulthood.

So, there I was on that day in that state of mind similar to my friend's. My absence of mind in thought and nostalgia for the days my mother was around soon turned to great euphoria and exceeding joy and fulfillment. I remembered, on a glorious day in February of 2014 at the Hospital at Shogunle, along Abeokuta expressway, my mom passed on to glory. For me, to the glory of God it was a happy ending. My sister and I and some relatives had taken turns in the past days to keep vigil and watch her overnight at the hospital. On that last fateful night it was my turn. I was the only one there in her hospital room, except for the nurse who came in during the night from the General Wards when I demanded for her attention. I stayed up all night. I was determined to do so because Mom was breathing unusually heavily, and I wanted to get help immediately if I needed to. I did get the nurse to come and see her patient a couple of times during the night. She told me Mom was alright. At about 5.30 in the morning, I fell asleep for about 5 minutes, and when I woke up the room was eerily quiet. I knew something strange had happened. Mom that was breathing heavily some minutes ago was now perfectly quiet. I woke up and was brought to consciousness as if someone touched me and wanted me to do something quickly. I got up swiftly and approached the bed where Mom was lying down. I greeted her , but when she didn't respond, I touched and shook her body a couple of times. When she didn't respond I knew something strange and sad had happened. I rushed out to call the nurse. She came to look at her and left without saying a word to me. The expression on her face confirmed my suspicion and feeling. The doctor came in almost immediately the nurse went out. He did an instant test on the patient and turned to me to say "I'm so sorry we have lost her" I couldn't believe what I heard or sure of what it meant even though I was thinking of that possibility before then. Death is inevitable, but it is hard and painful to accept that someone you loved so much would leave you and you will never see her again. In my childish mind, if anyone could live for ever, that person was my mother, but now she was gone for ever and until we meet again in God's heaven. Elizabeth Ebunola, Faosat Adunni, fondly called Amobiojo by the people of our hometown, the wife of Senator Richard Afolabi Babalola was gone for ever. These days I listen to her voice in a tape I made of my interview of her in Lagos and when she visited us in Houston, Texas, USA. To the glory of God and to my delight she got a fantastic and glorious burial. She was interred next to her husband in one of our houses at Efon Alaaye.

Apart from the reasons expressed earlier for writing this article, I am also doing it to inspire  people who still have their mothers here, to care for them as much as possible, and to enjoy their love and care to the limit. All of these will count to them for joy when their 'golden vessels' are gone. For those whose mothers are already gone, they can remember them and their great works of care, with relish. We can pray for them, for God to have mercy on them and rest their souls in perfect comfort. This too would count for happiness for us. Our children reading this can be encouraged to have a good relationship based on mutual love and care with their parents. For them too, it can be a source of priceless joy in the end.

Amongst her great legacy, I remember my mom for being one of the persons who inspired my first book which is about Yoruba Proverbs. She used proverbs, though sparingly, as an instrument of tutelage for morality and psychological growth in her children. As a woman of few words, the proverbs came handy, to pass important message of estimable value, often repeatedly until our childish evasive brain could no longer avoid it. Her favorite proverb was ''Ìgbẹ̀hìn ló ndun olókù àdá, ọjọ́ ọdún l'ọ̀rọ̀ ndùn ọ̀lẹ". In English this literarily says, it is in the end that the owner of a blunt cutlass regrets. The lazy person gets emotionally hurt only on the day of the festival. It is about Diligence  in one's work.- Diligence is a virtue, and a great one indeed, laziness is not. Laziness leads to regrets. Diligence makes a person successful and happy.. This is Proverbs 73 out of 250 in the book titled "A Discussion of 250 Deep Yoruba (African) Proverbs by Alaba J.Babalola, where it is elaborately explained. The book is available at Amazon. com via : https://www.amazon.com/dp/9785946703 , and a  read online only, non downloadable version is available at Selar.co via : https://selar.co/vuxu

Also, a copy of the 392 page 'Printed in Nigeria version' can be obtained directly from the Author / Publisher( for N10,0000 plus cost of shipping via local courier services) on inquiries at alabababalola8@gmail.com

To you,  the esteemed reader  of this article, if you could come this far you have done very well and I express my gratitude to you. I am sorry for the long-winded long article. It was not so intended, but I couldn't help it as the memories flew through my mind ceaselessly. I hope you didn't mind the simple writing style I have used. -  without all the scribal embellishments. It was meant to be written casually to excite and inspire you one way or another. I do hope that I have achieved that objective.

Thank you so much. I hope to see you here next time.

Best,

Alaba.

SICILIANA

- a song:

Dedicated to the memory of Adetutu Ayoade.🌹

Composed by Johannes Sebastian Bach 

Performed here by Lee Ritenour and Dave Grusin.👇

https://youtu.be/q6b7K22pco0?si=ddKMkizwk3emXMYr

The song, from the Italian Baroque musical tradition is characterized by its gentle flowing rhythm and expressive pastoral quality. It tells a deep emotional tale with a graceful flowing melody that suggests a feeling of longing and serenity. Its melancholic yet soothing melody makes it timeless.

May her soul rest in peace. Amen🌹

Alaba J.

Babalola

March 24th, 2025

[A Tribute to Adetutu Ayoade of Blessed Memories 

---------------------------------

I write today with a heavy heart, mourning the passing of a truly remarkable woman, Adetutu. Her name, meaning gentleness, was not just a name but a reflection of her very soul. 

She was the embodiment of grace, humility, and quiet strength—a woman whose presence was felt not through loud words, but through her unwavering kindness, respect, and devotion to her beloved husband, Tunji.

Though some of us may not have known her intimately, we all saw and felt her warmth. She was a pillar of support to Tunji, always by his side with a quiet dignity that spoke louder than words. 

She moved through life with a rare peacefulness, touching those around her and making the world a little calmer, a little kinder.

Adetutu may no longer walk among us, but there is no doubt that her memory will endure. 

Like the faithful dog Hachikō, who continued to wait at the train station for his owner, Professor Hidesaburō Ueno, long after he had passed, we too will hold fast to Adetutu’s memory. Hachikō’s loyalty became legendary—not just in Japan, but around the world—as a testament to the unbreakable bond between hearts that love truly and deeply. 

And so, dear Tunji, we stand with you in this grief, knowing that the love and devotion you and Adetutu shared will never fade.

Her presence may no longer grace our gatherings, but she remains alive in our hearts. We will remember her gentle smile, her quiet strength, and the peace she brought into every space she entered. And we will honor her by striving to reflect those very virtues—remaining faithful to the love and the values she stood for, just as Hachikō remained faithful to his master.

Rest in peace, Adetutu. Your journey on this earth may have ended, but your legacy will continue in the love you gave and the peace you shared. We will cherish you always.

Alaba J.

Babalola 

March 4th, 2025

1/26, 1:47 AM] Alaba Babalola: VINCENT and me - School days - Precisely From 1977 to 1981 -( A line of thought)

At around 2.00pm, I think, and sometimes much later, after the Mid-day meal (at MBHS), we would leave school to go home. We would cross the road (Broad Street) to Joseph Street and walk through it until we turned right on Catholic Mission Street. Vincent loved to pass through that road that had the Holy Cross Cathedral (Still has it). 

We would then cross Oil Mill Street to be right in front of the Holy Cross Cathedral, where sometimes we would genuflect and say the sign of the cross in front of that great edifice of worship. 

We continued our journey turning the road, into the side facade of City Hall, which also had the side entrance of the residential building for the Catholic Archbishop of Lagos. Sometimes the erstwhile Archbishop himself, now Cardinal  Anthony Oluwunmi Okogie, would come through the gate just when we were passing through the place, on his way to the Cathedral. Then we would walk further through the City Hall compound to cross Igbosere Street and the beginning of Glover Street on the upper side. 

Then we would cross Bangbose Street, and then Tokunbo Street, and then Inabere Street, and then another street, the name of which has now escaped my memory (Guys please  help me)😄. That's the road that starts from Oshodi Street, crosses Glover,  leads to Omididun Street and ends up into a court of houses. That street is where you have the Amuto playground, Ansar-u-deen school on the left, and the big  Ansar-u-deen mosque on the right. 🎬😄And it is on that road the world famous IYA CONGO RICE used to be - right at the end of the street, before you hit Omididun. (If you grew up on Lagos Island, please don't say you don't remember IYA CONGO o😄. Seyi Clement and other people from Surulere and other faraway places are excused though😄

So, still on Glover Street, we would cross that road and pass by the Agbo'les on the right - Inasa court etc, and further on the left we would cross Odo Oshun Street that leads to the old public toilet at Amuto, and to  Omididun. 

Then we would go further , and when we hit Okepopo Street, we would part at that junction of Glover and Okepopo. I would go further on Glover to my house at Adeniji Adele Street. Vincent would turn right on Okepopo to emerge at Oshodi Street. Then he would make a right turn on Oshodi to Igunnu Street. He would pass Ẹ̀pẹ́ Street on the left and go further to Freeman Street where he lived. 

Sixty minutes after arriving at his house, say at about 4.30pm, Vincent would show up in my house to be with me until he returns to his own house at about say, 10pm. This happened every day of school for 4 years. We were together during all Saturdays and Sundays too.

Vincent was my major influence for worshipping at the Catholic Church. Not because he preached with words or talked with me about anything of religion. It must have been his apparent religious piety and the fact that we passed the front of  the Holy Cross Cathedral everyday. Also, it must have been a time that God called me, because everything spiritual started to make sense to me from that point.

Though, through my maternal grandad, my  roots are actually deeper in the Catholic Church than those of Vincent (I think), but he was the one divinely appointed to lead me back there after my immediate family had for many years worshipped at the Christ Apostolic Church. After my dad passed on in 1967, we all had to rediscover our spirituality. 

I came from a family of six children, and I'm the very last or youngest child of that family. I must have wanted a junior brother badly!😄 Because Vincent was a little younger and very close to me and my family in those days, in my heart, he was my little brother. It was like he lived in my house, and it felt all natural. We were that close.

HOPEFULLY, TO BE CONTINUED.🌹

[1/26, 1:47 AM] Alaba Babalola: *VINCENT and me 2

- Farewell, dear friend* 

Here I am again, at the old precinct  - our childhood neighbourhood. This time, sadly to bid a dear friend farewell, when his mortal flesh is to be committed to mother earth.

As I walk through the long hall of the old house, I can't help a flurry of memory flow through my mind. A barrage of thoughts of how we were and how things were many years ago, of which I now remember. 

After school, Vincent came over. We stayed in the small living room to read our books, do assignments and revise for upcoming exams. Oftentimes we read and watched the TV at the same time. Occasionally my mum would come upstairs, through the living room to her own bedroom. She would give me a look that definitely meant "who are you and your friend kidding? You are either reading those books or you are watching the TV! And I would give a reassuring look for a response that we were on top of the game, and that we would definitely do well in the forthcoming exams.

Vincent had a photographic memory. He would read many pages of text without forgetting the minutest detail. That was his gift. So I was sure we were doing well, even with our peculiar way of studying.

For a table, he used a plank of plywood which was the remains of my mom's old signage for her shop. He would lay it on top of the two arms of one of the single seater sofa. That was his permanent seat at the UN.😄 I did the same thing. It was comfortable as ever.

We all ate when Mommy cooked - with my brother and sisters. Sometimes we chose to eat whatever we liked from food sellers in the neighborhood. Vincent liked Amala with Gbegiri and Ewedu from the yam stalls on Adeniji Adele  Road, just before Ẹ̀pẹ̀ Street. I liked it too. It was delicious. They used a lot of locust beans for soup in those days. That's why you would almost bite your fingers eating Amala from that Bukateria.

From the beginning, Vincent built himself up painstakingly into everything he was - emotionally, intellectually, as an accountant, a religious and pious person, family man etc. He had the unmistakable determination of a Scorpio. In fact, he was a Scorpio by zodiac sign.

Like Mary of the good book, he chose the best things of life and pursued them with that determination of a Scorpio. I say this not of praise to him, but in thanksgiving to God who made it all possible.

He was one with a poverty of spirit. i.e  he believed in his own poverty of spirit in the presence of his maker, the Almighty , the most Glorious and most blessed God.

He was pure at heart. For him it was God and God alone. No admixture of strange things. No spiritual hypocrisy.

A saint is someone who tries hard not to commit sin, but nevertheless susceptible to doing so. Like all men, he was not invincible or perfect, but he fervently sought and depended on the grace of God for his salvation. He was humble of heart and suffered much for his beliefs.  In my own eyes he was a saint. I pray that God calls him so.

Later today, we will sing the "Libera Me". We will say Libera me, Domine de Morte. Aeterna in die ilia tremenda. Quando coeli, movendi sunt et terra Dum. Veneris judicare saeculum perignem. Tremes factus sum ego et timeo. Dum discussion venerit atque. Ventura Ira. Quando coeli dies ilia dies irae, calamitatis et Miseriae, dies magna et amara. Valdez Dum veneris..

or

Deliver me O Lord from eternal death.In that dreadful day when the heaven and earth are to be made. When thou shall come to judge the world by fire. I'm seized with fear and trembling. Until the trial shall be at hand, and the wrath to come, when thou shall come. That day, a day of wrath, of wasting, and of misery, a great day and exceeding bitter. When thou shalt come.

Libera Me :The song of a humble heart with poverty of spirit and purity of heart.

I pray the song is sung in Latin at the requiem  mass today, for all to feel the sublime and solemn aura of it.

I used to think we sang the song for the departed, but now I know we sing it for ourselves. It is a song of Supplication for God's mercy and deliverance. All he who believes actually sings it for himself.

May God hear our prayers for Vincent and for ourselves, through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.