28. The God’s Generals

Moyin Olorun Alagbara,

Olorun Babalola,

Moyin Olorun Alagbara,

Olorun Abiara,

Moyin Olorun Alagbara,

Olorun Abanigberundori,

Any member of CAC Agbala ITURA, the church were I spent the most of my formative years will understand where this song comes from. It provokes thoughts and illuminates my mind on the glorious work of Pastor S.O Folahan. Pastor Folahan was that man of God will clarity on his vision for both the aged and the young. When he hits the pulpit and ready to render the message or minister, that’s the entry song. The church would erupt with spoken tongues and prayers won’t cease.

Though we were Baptist from the scratch, I have grew into CAC Agbala Itura, taking in my full lessons of faith. The church has a vibrant youth system that we grew graduated into. It was easy and seamless. I later joined the Children Teachers Society. I loved teaching children in Church. I believe we see ourselves better if we learn things like child. My love for God and the church has been stirred since. Pastor Folahan died in 2002, very shocking. The Church was shaken but stands still. With Baba Abiara, Pastor Olaiya ( amazing teacher of the Word), Pastor Akinpelu, Pastor Tayo and many others.

Tunde Bakare. That’s how to spike the rebel in me. What a preacher and a man of God. Right from the University days, Mr Femi, Gboye and Dare Elusakin will stay by the window just so that that we can hear him clearly from Eko Fm. I always respect him because I see him not afraid to talk on the social issues in the society. He had that message for the activist in me.

Pastor Poju deserves a great mention in this walk of life. A lot of thanks to Sunkanmi Agbomeji for bringing me here. Wow. What a man of God. Every word is cherished and I look back in gratitude. I have always said quietly that if you can’t attend this church and your life fails to change in a year, then you might need a personal check. There is a stirring that comes in my spirit.

I have been held steady by the Church and from our early days in Baptist, my times in NIFES, Anglican Church, Benson Idahosa University with the legendary Pastor Gabriel, the Church has been a family.

The hospital is for the sick and the Church is also meant for those needing that steady journey with God. I have seen the Church that way – the gathering where we find comfort and remain steady for His glorious appearing.  The saints will only gather after the sound of the trumpet.

I am happy that with the  joy found in the gathering, the support of the leaders and the revelation of the Word brought me this far. I also struggle with the materialism in church space, certain issue masking as idolatry but we carve it in Christianity but I have seen the real stuff. The miraculous healing of my mum in 2009 strengthened my faith in a big way.

My first Bible was a Yoruba bible, given to me at 10 as a gift from my Dad. I looked at it again and I wrote these words there:

“This book will keep you away from sin or sin will with keep you away from it”

Those were true words of John Bunyan. I want to live more than the Word. Not a man’s word, His Word.


27. Unity Villa

Have you lived in a house of 18 boys  and you have to cook rice and share in 18 places? The fish is barely scattered in the stew and they all stand around to pick their plates for a quick lunch. Yes. Unity Villa was an experience and it keeps giving me memories. Memories to salivate on or sometimes even just “smh”.

Unity Villa, a plastered bungalow, about a kilometre from the main junction was where I stayed for over three years in FUNAAB. There I found out what a happier world it would be if the world was more equal. Hardly any difference between indigenes and students, we lived like a large family of lost parents.

There was this warning that mothers gave their daughters, to be very afraid of Unity Villa.

“Are, awon omo UNAABU, sora fun won, bi won se gbe dudu, ni won gbe pupa”  mothers told their daughter in thick accent.

An early experience of a lady in our area who was a student of Polytechnic Ibadan made this ring well.  Sisi’s mother would pack stockfish, rice, palm oil and everything packable when she was about to return to school. But these girls won’t listen. They won’t. After taking a bike saying goodbye to her family members, Sisi just stopped midway to spend another three days enjoying the juice between the groin.

But you know these stories get passed around. Her mother later found out that her daughter meant to be in school was co-habiting few houses away. It was not funny. In thick Egba accent

“Bode, omo tan ran ni ile iwe”

“Won ti n basun, ah aye mi oo”

[Come out, a child that we are sending to school that some fellow is sleeping with, just look at my life ]

It was not an exciting spectacle till Sisi had to be moved to another room. Her mother did not notice while she was engaged in a chatter and was made to see an empty room. That’s how to live in a nearly full boys’ house of nine rooms. We only reserved a room for a lady.

We sang, laughed, partied and even fought. I once tried to break a bottle just to harass Olukokun Deji who was testing my will. I could not.

Odunayo was having a birthday party and I didn’t know how I downed a full bottle of “Ponche”. I was eyeing a Deeper Life lady that period who also came around. Seeing me doing that after being taunted by friends just made her lose hope. I was not up for redemption. After taking that drink, I decided to go to another party hosted by Osagie and friends, few blocks away. I did not know how I got home after missing some dance steps. The only thing I remembered was that I woke up on a cement floor with mosquitoes feasting on my body. I was not alone. We were like four people. It was a dump room for drunks. For days, I lost appetite, drinking glucose. My room mate, Muri had washed up the room and myself. That was my man. Muri was one student who will prostrate fully, I meant fully for me without shame. True omo Ibadan.

I owed the landlord for months who didn’t really care to take his monthly rent of N600. There was a very troublesome but so likeable woman who sold us food – Iya Ife . She had a list of how much everyone owed. I was not one the top list of debtors but I had this very stinging insult culled from Haruna Ishola’s Sule Maito track, that she so hated:

“Owo ti Onigbinde ba na ni ojumo, ti Iya Ife ba na ni odun kan, ori se ni”

[The money Onigbinde spends in a day, if Iya Ife tries to spend  that in a year, she is truly wealthy. ]

With Niyi (Pressy), Odun, Dipo, Deji, Bunmi, Sula, Muri, Tayo, Seedorf, Bora, Ibrahim and many more these memories fail me, I truly had a good time. From supporting my early dreams for Vision Plus Network and UNAABSU Presidency attempt, scolding when my laptop got fully burnt, they were like brothers and fathers to me. This was home.

When I left Unity Villa, I actually took nothing except my mattress and few books. Actually what else did I have in my room –  a blue rug,  reading table and chair, wooden wall hangers and a pile of clothes.

No TV, radio or DVD. If a girl was visiting me, I quickly dashed to the next room to borrow radio and TV and  patiently wait.

What a life, a very simple one.

What if it remained that simple, full of  happiness and too little care of the fleeting things of the world.

26. Professor Osinowo, S.G Oyagbinrin et al

 I can’t actually look back and say “l am here without my teachers.” What did I know before these ones taught me? 

Right from the ones that memory cannot afford me while I was crawling to the ones whose memory keeps flashing in my minds for their noble work. 

Teachers might not also have come with the chalkboard alone. They also appear in familiar and strange places. 

I mean those who tell you to prostrate very well; those who say don’t give me that thing with your left hand; those who taught us God’s way in Church, lengthening our days of innocence and even the multitude of authors that penned books. On the TV; someone who scribbled content on the Internet; journalists and columnists  whose pieces I read after finishing popcorn and epa, blowing the cover in my face. Colleagues who taught me assignments; Awolowo who helped me immensely during my project dayseven my bosses and colleagues who said it can always be better. An investor who said capital no to a deal  or even a relationship that failed but my ex-partner left me with immense lessons. 

Those unfinished medium of learning, my teachers. 

However, I can’t forget someone like Professor Olusegun Osinowo. Professor was not my teacher as we know the profession to be. He didn’t stand in the class and offer me lessons but he did far much more than that. He was Head of the Computer Centre in FUNAAB and a simple letter from me, my small self to come and speak to Engineering students was honoured. He came in so early and I can’t even forget that moment when I said 

“Can everybody please move forward?” 

I wanted student to fill the spaces in front.Professor  did so. He carried his bag and moved forward. If humility was the way to relate to people,  I have come to revere his way. Even on his Facebook page,  he prefers to name himself, Olusegun Osinowo. 

When I went to see him in company of Odun Adebambo for the UNAAB ICT Conference, he smiled and offered to get us the venue. He tried to get us a sponsor -Zinox technologies – and even brought his own ICT company for exhibition. He came to the event, spoke well. He just left immortal moments in me when I compare his work with that of some haughty lecturers who think teaching is another means of servitude. Someday, I will pay him a visit. 

I will also write specifically  of S.G Oyagbinrin who was my lecturer and project supervisor in the University. We did get along in the early days because he had tough standards. When the list came out that he was going to be my supervisor with Olakojo Samuel, I was a bit disturbed but he carried on with so much help, offering ideas along the way. 

On the day of our project defence, our  Head of Department, Professor Adejumo, had harsh words for me. That I disappointed him and my presentation was more of oratory, sweet tenses rather than  the technical details of the transformer we were meant to build. A  transformer that was never completed. My soul never derived joy in melting lead on circuit boards. 

The HOD decided he will fail us and promised that we will stay an extra year, repeating a 8-unit course. It was a time of immense distress. 

I can hear my project supervisor, who was powerless at that moment say something

“What about my own students, what will happen to them?” 

Though looks like the statement won’t change anything but it immortalized Engr. Oyagbinrin in my spirit. Like this man wants to stood up for us. In the end, the Senate and voices in the department prevailed. We were sparingly scored a “C”, for a 8-unit course. 

 Engr. Oyagbinrin died few years ago. It was very shocking. 

It is a long list, starting from my own parents, Elder I.O Onigbinde who taught me how to knot a tie and sit straight when we were eating, family members I can’t count, Mr Olayiwola of Loyola College, Mr Ajayi & Elder Bolarinwa of Agbala Itura and many more I can’t recollect. 

Noble work they did and if I sit back and keep counting,  I will keep imagining how  I encounter them everyday in my  life -Teachers. 

25. Oluwaseun

The journey to find one’s spouse is actually  that of self discovery. I will be married soon but to take that leap, I had to surrender my will to God, allow him take the lead and myself a passenger on that journey. To be very sober, I might be the most terrible person to date. 

The woman I am getting married too – Oluwaseun Agbelusi – didn’t happen by chance. Like we both write with left, attended same University, attend same Church and bear the same first name. Now that might seem using coincidence to assume that this is the right choice but I don’t accept this happened by tossing a dice. 

When it comes to love, I was left cold and a bit damaged after leaving  University. I am the type that likes the hippie and creamy girls of the school. The ones everyone swoons on and flutter around like flies. Back in the days, check out my toolkit to date a high-flying girl.

  There was no car, no brand new jerseys or designer clothes, can’t afford the expensive clubs.I don’t roll with the prime Tickles or G-men club or others that run the campus with parties. Now add my skinny frame and nearly burnt face, I might not be that guy. 

What a life. I am the kind who just won’t settle for less, like date a mannered sister, I wanted the prime klieg lights. 

 I was once faced a situation, a lady I was in thrall of called me to a lonely corridor and said 
‘There is nothing you can say that can make me say yes to you’ 

That’s was a dagger. Others I tried gradually started liking, created a situation that I looked like a nuisance. I had to back down. 

When it comes to accepting me, I hardly persevere. I mean my love for you is like a deal, you either take it or leave it. I think if she truly admires you, it does not take that long and we did not come to University to love. We are here to read. 

But getting out of University, created a new image of me. Proper and ‘rich’ guy. I had three girlfriends in-between. Wow. 

Most of the challenge has to do with me. 

Not being romantic, suspicious this is not love, money is the trigger. Like I needed this love badly, where were you people?  Not just romantic enough, a workaholic not giving attention enough, it kept falling like a pack of cards.

In the midst of taking those chances, I met Oluwaseun online. We casually talked, we shared thought also casually. I was always curious if she was seeing anyone & she minded if I was seeing anyone. Then we kept conversation open and we thought of even arranging evenings together early 2015. 

Then my eyes opened, like I had an electric train running in my  head.  I had that feeling. This is truly my journey. This is the road back to myself because without strife, with ease, with divine bliss, maternal blessings, I discovered the completion to my being – Oluwaseun.

24. Imperfection

Igbekele eniyan, asan ni

Putting one’s trust in man is a big disappointment. 

There was this ALUTA that we did in FUNAAB. Students blocked the access route to the University right from camp. Still not satisfied, we decided to march to the Governors office but one thing has to happen. We had to walk past the Police Headquarters, Eleweran. The Police won’t allow it. We should go back. We have no reason to disturb public peace, they said. In the midst of such bickering and shouting. Next thing, we heard a loud sound. Was it a gun?

Everyone ran. We ran away, into the bush. We could not pass the main route back to town. So we had to walk through the bushes. We did this for three hours. Finding a way back to town.

Tired and very tired. We saw a palmwine shop and we quickly ran into it to end our thirst. I had no challenge if anyone drank palm wine at that moment but this fellowship brother, who sings, does drama, very spirit filled and well respected after finishing a calabash of palm wine, lit cigarette immediately. It was unbelievable for me. Brother Tope!


I once saw this lady in the University and I was liking her. She ticked the right boxes with her curvy hips, soft fingers and cool voice. I asked which church she attended, she said “Christ Embassy”. Still liking this lovely girl, I decided to go there. I would stay in, listen with rapt attention. Most times after fellowship on Wednesday, a two-minute chat is just enough for me. That scatters butterflies in my head.

One Saturday just to wake up and stretch outside, I saw this lady, clad in a loose wrapper, by the opposite window of our hostel. One of the “Big boys” picked her up at those wild parties for an overnight adventure. The thing between my legs went so cold. A sister of God!

 I have seen a white woman, someone you expect to be of great decorum as the world has craved it to be, behave like a typical Abuja civil servant. A married brother doing aristo for small girls.

I have always asked myself, do people change too much or maybe we just don’t pay enough attention to them? Have we cast a standard for them to live by that in essence we just lose their sense of freedom?

Like if really I turn down by silent Google search history, access my vaults of secrets kept with Abiola Afolabi, unravel the lonely walks in the night, see the silent vanities of my heart, will you still be proud of me? Won’t you abandon this humble, intelligent, christian mould of my flawed self  that has been cast?

I hardly get disappointed in men. I do my best not to be disappointed in myself, setting certain  thick lines of principles but sometimes I fall short.  I am working on it. The best of men are still men.

23.  20 years ago

To say I ever knew I was brilliant as a kid, I would be lying. Even recently when I get great compliments, I still wonder, am I the one involved here?

When I got in Primary six, my parents were confronted with the decision if it was financially sound to complete my primary education in a private school since we would only spend two terms before we write the ‘Common Entrance’ exams. I will also not need the exams as I gotten admission into a prime secondary school in Lagos.

My mum withdrew me to a public school  – Queens of Apostles Primary School -, where I completed my primary school. My mum was a teacher and interestingly, after going round few schools, today, she is there as an Assistant Head Mistress. I had that touch of class, that ‘Omo teacher’ special feel. 

She came around that I needed to represent the school for a competition. That was the “School of the Gifted, Suleja”. We were told it is a free special school for the brightest students.  It was a qualification exam that we would do first from the local government, then proceed to state level before we got admitted. 

I remembered I sat firmly in that class with other students who represented their schools. I did not get some questions right. I submitted and went back home to find out answers, learning from our neighbours. 

Few days later, another tall man came and asked that I retake the same test again. That’s awkward. They were not sure I took the test. The assumed that since the school I attended was the local government center, teachers could have helped me. I was trembling but the questions were familiar. When I submitted the English papers, and he checked through before I proceeded to Maths. He told me to stop. He got it. I wrote those papers myself. My mum was so excited, so proud of me. 

We did the state qualification exams and we didn’t get results. People started asking us who do we know at the Ministry of Education as we need a ‘long leg’ if I want that privilege. The results never came. 

Life moved on after the early euphoria. However, my mum had a silent challenge. I was nearly 10 and I was still bedwetting, something not happening to my younger siblings. It would be 11 till this stopped, till I found out that I would wake up during the night and find the toilet. What suddenly started waking me up and stopped this shame of waking up soaked in urine, running to cover the drenched mattress and changing my trousers so early in the morning just to appear in denial, I did not know. 

22. Siblings

We were called Seun, Seye, Sayo and Seyi, a cool order of seniority.  Like the shortened versions of our names start with “S”. Sometimes, our mum  calls us in full before she decides whose  attention, she actually wants.

My Dad lost his job in 1996 and I had to return to Ibadan after he could not afford the prime secondary school I attended in Lagos. When I returned back to Ibadan to start my JSS2 in Loyola College, I found out that my younger brother was quietly growing taller and could surpass me in height, wow, in the end, he finally did. I thought this was a function of not eating well enough so I tried to rig the game but my effort was fruitless.

When the food was ready, I was always called to share the food. Now, I was the one that would share the food and after distributing it into three places, I am also the first person to take my share. You can say that’s some sort of conflict of interest or maybe we say it has been a while that goats have been eating yams.

After sharing the food, I still find it hard to choose. Like I will be weighing the food with my hand to ensure which one was more than the others. I have to make a choice.

It was an interesting spectacle growing up with my siblings. Honestly, I was the most troublesome one, giving my mum sleepless nights. I was also the most punished among the four kids because there is never time my siblings go wrong that I won’t get a small slice of the cane.

Being the first born, my parents had set forth the power of an example marker. I have to get it right. Those ahead of us got it right. Thankfully, they all got it right. But they kept me lazy. While I charged on those days for learning, they were the ones doing dishes, making lunch, getting everything squared. Till today, its been a long time I sat down in kitchen to make food. The last time I tried I was looking around for matches to ignite the gas cooker. I did not even know that the gas cooker I bought does not even need matches, the flame comes on automatically.

These ones spoilt me little. They brought food for me in the University, still ensure I get up to four pieces of meat when I visit Ibadan, they just let me live this champagne life on a red carpet.

When I resigned from First Bank, there was a bit of worry in the family that my brother and I were both jobless. In the early days of BudgIT when serious ‘owu was blowing’, he stood like a brother. I felt he would have complained that Egbon

“Do you think this risk is worth it”

He was an unpaid employee giving his all to our dream. He has his own dream and he is finding it now as an IFRS specialist. I have seen Seye as the more calm, precise to decisions and ready to help person. Sometimes, I wish I had same quality with my randomness. Folasayo is a data analyst with our research team. She is mostly quiet. I have known her to be that way but once angry she comes so forceful but that in itself delights us. Everyone says Seyi looks and acts more like me. Troublesome and daring at every point but in that we found completion.

I have to thank these ones I am grateful to God to have as a family. I have two step brothers and interestingly my Dad decided in his way to continue the pattern. He named them Seeni and Shola.

May we find purpose in life and God, may our lives continue to shine and be the best of examples to all men. I have nothing but gratitude to these ones. 

They affirm to me that “family is everything”, exuding love without measure. I have keep trying my best to be good to them but nothing seems exciting that they are finding happiness and have not let me down in choosing his blooming lives. 

21. Green Acts,Sunkanmi & Oluwaniyi

The entry wing into the Wimbledon Center Court reads instructive lines from Rudyard Kipling’s “IF”stating:

 “If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster, And treat those two impostors just the same; “

Like if every your head won’t swell so much at success to create space for improvement and you will persevere  through failure, then the road ahead is so glorious. 

Things have also not looked everyday smooth since we set on this sail. Windbreaks, typhoons and shipwreck are part of the voyage. There will always be those punctuations that one feel hopes are waning and almost lost. There are grant applications that I did not win, fellowship applications I lost out, competition that failed but truly “we Triumph still”.

Before I started BudgIT, I had run two ventures – Vision Plus Network and Green Acts. While I can excuse Vision Plus for being a vehicle to organize the UNAAB ICT event, I can’t same of Green Acts. I failed to leap it out. Friends like Olumide Climate, Esther Agbarakwe and even close cousins – Opeoluwa and Adeoluwa – still ask about Green Acts. 

Recently, I stumbled on the piece I had written about climate change, sustainability and others. That the time is ticking and man needs to stop treating the environment like another heap. That we need move fast and this whole environment will come crashing. I bought books on this, read a lot, appeared on TV and even relatively spent a fortune. 

Green Acts was an idea that came out from a conversation while in NYSC camp with Oluwaniyi Tioluloye. A quiet and deep thinker with passion for the environment. He was my biggest pal during NYSC. If you add Pastor Gabriel of Benson Idahosa University, the story will be nearly complete. 

Sunkanmi, a colleague in Loyola College, joined us on this route. I was delighted to this, with high pumps of zeal. Immediately, I got my leave allowance in FBN in 2010, I quickly invested it in developing the brochure. We had an advisory board  that helped in bringing new ideas. It was led by Elizabeth Moses, amazing person I met online.

I remembered Sunkanmi and I spent of time designing a booklet to share our ideas. We walked around Victoria Island trying to sell corporate sustainability and caring for the environment. 

We thought it should leap. Climate change, sustainability, green energy and the rest should strike people’s interest. We had this inaugural event in 2010. It was amazing what we did.

However, it still did not get the traction as the climate change talks started to bore me with the global politics and based on a sidetalks with Tobi Oluwatola in church, I questioned “Is this really the conversation that Nigeria needs?” Climate change?

May be the time is not right. Maybe we didn’t have deep expertise. Maybe the market was not ready. Maybe our message communicated fear rather than a potential for innovation but I know we did not work it out. We did not sweat it enough.Edit

One thing I keep saying to such stumbling moments : The journey is greater than the destination. The lessons along the way are truly the spice of life.
We kept trying, till we allowed it hibernate and quietly pale out. Oluwaniyi tried to jolt it backup life in 2012. I was lost into BudgIT but I still believe. Green Acts will be back. 

Who says we can’t try if we fail? As long as we take the lessons and apply them. I still believe but I can say I am proud of what we did. 

20. Daddy’s little boy

During a class at Stanford University last year, our Professor spoke of a US billionaire who approached the University and asked if there was a way people could live forever. He was ready to drop millions of U.S. Dollars for such research. The Professor said, honestly there is nothing like that ongoing but “dollars cannot come and waste”. They found programs meant to lengthen human days (disease research) and they put the funds into that. 

Day by Day, man is closer to its grave. It is a fact we like to whisper in our minds but that tells how little man has always been in the context of things. 

I grew up to know my Dad as a kind hearted and a rich man. Not that we owned the world but he met our needs. A man that provided for his house -shinning shoes, labelled designers, trips to beaches and amusement parks. My Daddy was the one with that taste. My Dad can also beat oh but because it does not happen often, it can very painful for a soul. 

He did his best for his children education, he did that without any limit. Like I was in the prime secondary school in Lagos till he lost his job and I went back to public school in JSS2. There is no better way to have a legacy if that box of being a man of your house is well ticked. I learnt that a lot. 

When he lost his job at Michelin in 1996, things changed drastically. It was clear things won’t go on as it was but we passed through the tides of life. We passed through it with the plastic, kerosene and pop corn business. My mum stood like a rock. When he got with another job five years later, he proved to be the same kindhearted man I ever knew. 

He had love for enterprise and he did it through this chair and canopy rental business. My uncle, Wale Ajiboye, was always there for him. With him, we carried chairs on our back, looking dirty with the metallic dirt lined on our faces. We had this Peugeot pick up whose brake once landed us in trouble but of such days were legends made of. Unable to buy white chairs, the business died slowly.

He was not only  kind to me but to his entire family. Oh! He was kind to everyone he met in his span of life. I have written about him twice since he left us. But truly I was his little boy to the end. 

Even when I was in First Bank and the salary was not enough, I was never ashamed to meet him. Even for transport money when it came to that. On the penultimate meeting we had before we passed on, I visited him with my brother and Damen. 

Then he joked that what do we do with our money. That my younger brother, Seye, was too Ijebu. He does not part with his money. We laughed. He bought us food and paid a sum of N870. 

The last time I saw him breathing was the night before his death. He said he wanted to sleep and I should not be troubled. I went home that night hoping to check him later. The next time I saw him after our neighbours called me that he was in state of emergency, he was fast asleep. Forever asleep. 

Whatever were his imperfections as a mortal, I knew it, learnt from it but he had so much good everyone he met will attest to.

May his soul rest in peace. 

19. Obiageli EZEKWESILI 

“Aunty Oby” has most people will call her does not refer to me just as her son. I mean not just a title but really a son. When we have a discussion, she calls her biological sons, my brothers. A honor I am so grateful to have. Ask Chude, Adebola Williams, Seun Fakuade, Omojuwa and many more, she keeps that relationship steady between us. Mother and son.

How I have come to meet Aunty Oby can be about two things – Oluwa is involved, a thirst for data driven factual discussions which we carve with BudgIT. She came across very early to appreciate what we do. She gets it clearly the vision from the start that in the midst of the chatter on Twitter, someone has to be pressing hard the facts. That we can only have discussion on the scale of facts and not just our biased sentiments.

I have lived in her house not a tenant but truly as member of the household, taken part in those morning prayer sessions that last for two hours. I have found in her a complete child of God. I can say that clearly anywhere. She is a true Christian who fully puts one’s life on that Biblical scale.

I am talking of someone I am ever grateful to not because of the immense support or mentorship she has given me. She has set a marker in me. A marker to be honest. A marker that I can’t afford to disappoint. 

 To take a walk with corruption or hear my name synonymous with plundering public treasury, God forbid. Like it leaves a heavy stone in my chest, to ever try to imagine things she won’t be proud of. 

I am always taking this forward. I have scaled an hurdle where I rejected a government contract that I felt it was too messy to dive because my spirit won’t give way to disappoint God, family and Obiageli Ezekwesili. 

This solemn covenant I carry in me. I can’t afford to screw up and thay why everything  noble she calls me for –  work takes a pause, sleep takes a walk, my brain cells are in full stream because she keeps setting one standard in me. A life of honesty. 

Even Paul says follow me as I follow Christ. May God keep her steady on this glorious journey now that she has taken a higher calling – a Pastor of The Redeemed Christian Church of God.