Today for no particular reason, my mind drifted to friends and colleagues in the newsroom who have embarked on the journey of no return.
The first of them to come to my mind was the ever smiling Fabian Ozor, our education correspondent at Daily Independent newspaper. The rotund and affable Fabian died in an automobile crash in 2010 on his way to Abuja to cover an event.
Fabian was always the butt of jokes from colleagues especially Emeka Nwani , my colleague on the Sports Desk. Because of Fabian’s rotundity, which made him look like one of those big boys controlling a string of shops at Alaba International Market in Lagos, Emeka would ceaselessly tease him. Anytime he stepped into the newsroom and Emeka happened to be around, you would immediately hear what later became an anthem of sorts:
“Fabian, how market, business good today?” And if for some reason, Fabian got in very late and was rushing to his desk to beat the deadline, Emeka wouldn’t spare him. “Fabian, you go siddon for your shop since morning abi?” An exasperated Fabian would blurt out in response,”Emeka, abeg, leave me, jor”, and everyone would share a good laugh. I had left Daily Independent when Fabian passed but his death him me hard for he was a jolly good fellow.
There was also at the Independent the one we called BJ. His real name was Banjo and he was the handyman in the newsroom. An admin staff with responsibility for ensuring the seamless functioning of the newsroom, BJ, a middle-aged fun loving guy, knew where everything was kept. He would saunter from desk to desk in his trademark swagger solving problems and running errands for reporters and editors too busy to get off their desks. Everyone loved BJ for he was like “water we y no get enemy”. He could throw tantrums sometimes when things didn’t go the way he expected but it was over as quickly as it started.
Baba Nafiu, the self-effacing avuncular production man, who stoically bore what was clearly the exasperating exuberance of our youth. He would quietly type away on his keypad raising his head once in a while and permitting himself a wry smile now and then when Emeka and his boisterous gang of reporters/ tormentors, which included yours truly, exceeded themselves in chicanery. Baba Nafiu was my steady supplier of the Christian Women’s Mirror magazine, which I always took home to my young wife, who I had eventually married after ceaseless heckling from our then Life Editor, Olayinka Oyegbile (Double O). Baba Naufiu went to be with the Lord years later.
I had seen women passionate about football but few of them could match the delectable Oluyomi Odukoya. Her love for football was boundless. You would often see her discussing football and sports generally with us on the Sports Desk. A passionate and die hard Arsenal fan, she would taunt me ceaselessly anytime Manchester United fell to the London club. After I left the Independent, our “battles” continued on Facebook. I was devastated when I learned she had passed because all through our exchanges she did not betray any sign of sickness even though she was stoically battling an ailment.
Maxwell Oditta, the Prof. A university of Nigeria, Nsukka graduate, Maxwell was a supremely intelligent fellow and he made sure everyone knew it. Burly and abrasive, he was at heart a gentle fellow if you really got to know him. His writings were laced with hard facts, which he often went the extra mile to unearth. He occasionally had run ins with management and his superiors on account of his pushiness but he always stood his ground once he was sure he was fighting a just cause. The last time I saw him was two years before his death.
This was in 2013 in Osogbo, Osun State during the 70th birthday celebration of Chief Ebenezer Babatope. He looked his normal self as we chatted and brought ourselves up to speed on what had transpired since we last saw.
I called him the IG or the Inspector General. Wisdom Patrick was our crime reporter at the Independent. Resourceful and daring, Baba Wisdo as I also called him, knew all the top cops in the Nigeria Police Force from the Inspector General down. In 2005 when Tafa Balogun, the then Inspector General of Police, was kicked out by President Olusegun Obasanjo and I was asked to write the lead story for the Covers and Investigation Desk, Wisdom’s insights into the structure and running of the Nigerian Police proved invaluable. Wisdom passed on a few years ago.
Victor Ebimomi, our Metro reporter at the Independent was a workaholic. He would traverse the streets of Lagos looking for scoops. Once in the newsroom, he would hurriedly craft his stories and then joined “the boys” in exchanging banters. Temperamental, he always worked extra hard to keep himself from exploding when pushed to the limit. All in all, he was every editor’s dream of a reporter for he was thoroughly dependable.
The blessed Aramide Praise-Oikelome. A good woman-staid, stoic and angelic. For years she anchored the Faith (Religion) pages of the Independent. She was one of the prime movers of the organisation’s Christian fellowship, which included editorial, admin, marketing, sales and press staff. In the newsroom she was a comforting presence and had a way of getting the boisterous gang scale down on their caper to allow “peace reign” in the newsroom.
And there was Amos. Amos was the production guy assigned to plan the sports pages. In all my years on the Sports Desk, I never met a production man so knowledgeable about sports as Amos save Oga Pat Odili. With Amos you just dropped your material and went to sleep. He knew all the sports personalities in Nigeria and outside and there was no chance of you coming back to see Kanu Nwankwo’s photo put in the place of that of Garba Lawal. He was that efficient. Sometimes he’d go through your copy and help you correct an error in your story, which your editor had somehow missed, and would tease you about it afterward.
The passing of Dr. John Oseze-Langley, the handsome and intelligent editorial page editor at Daily Independent, was a painful one. Amiable and efficient, he was a member of the Editorial Board of the Independent, which boasted al all-star cast of intellectuals including Prof. Mike Ikhariale, Dianam Dakolo , Dan Amor , Ugochukwu Ejinkeonye and Eze Onyekpere. I was later drafted by the then MD of the paper, Sir. Ted Iwere , to join them. Dr. Oseze-Langley passed on later and his death threw everyone into mourning.
Oga Pat Odili was an encyclopedia of sports. For young reporters like us who thought we knew a lot about sports, we were forced to eat the humble pie. Having edited sports papers in the past, Oga Odili as we called him, knew the job inside out. He was the head sub for the Sports Desk and would gently guide us through the terrain pointing out pitfalls and offering valuable insights.
Ben Alaiya, the Benja. My sports editor at Independent, a jolly good fellow and workaholic. Ben would set the newsroom alight with his wit while driving his reporters to near death with work. Ben’s death has remained a shocking development to me because while I know death is the way of all mortals, I never thought the ebullient and irrepresible Ben would embark on that journey so soon.
Phillipson Abah. My friend and colleague at Independent Communications Nigeria Limited (ICNL), publishers of the PM News, The News, and Tempo magazines. We used to act as sounding boards for one another after returning to the newsroom from our respective beats. An affable guy with nose for news, Phillipson would pass away years later in Abuja where he had been posted from Lagos.
Gabriel Orok was another colleague of mine at the PM News, The News, and Tempo magazines. He was our crime reporter. I used to refer to him as the policeman because he was so involved with the policemen on his beat that we sometimes wondered on whose side he was.
He had a forbidding visage that we were always cautious when around him but he was at heart a simple guy who gave no one any trouble.
There were others at ICNL who I either met briefly before they passed or had passed on just before I joined the organisation.
These included editors like Tayo Omotayo and Seidi Mulero, who most of the editors fondly referred to as Muleroid. I didn’t get to know him too well before he passed but he appeared a gentle fellow and those I met there said he was a very intelligent fellow.
There is one other colleague I must mention. His name is Clement Obayuwana and he passed on in 2005. We did not get to work together in the same newsroom but he was a professional colleague. More than that, he was a friend. We were classmates at the University of Benin. He was a resourceful fellow who could be counted upon to fix any problem ordinary mortals like us felt were unfixable. Clement and I last saw in 2005 when he visited me at the Independent where I was working at the time. He told me he was travelling home to Edo State for the burial of his father. He never made it back to Lagos alive.
I was privileged to interact with these wonderful people. I cherish the memories of the times we spent together.
I also spare a thought for their families. Their departure has certainly been hard on them and I pray God continues to comfort them and provide for them.
POSTSCRIPT
My attention has been drawn by Mrs. Oluyinka Adebanjo- Shokunbi, the irrepressible lady I fondly refer to as Madam Sho to a grave ommission of Mr. Joseph Sesebo’s name from this remembrance.
It was indeed, a grave error for Mr. Sesebo was the salt of the earth. He was our business editor at Daily Independent at the time he passed.
Mr. Sesebo had died in a tragic accident on his way to the office to write the story of a pipeline explosion somewhere in Lagos. It was on a public holiday, I believe and he wasn’t really supposed to be in the office that day. It was said that he had tried to get one or two reporters at the office through phone but could not and so decided to go the office to do the story himself. On his way, somewhere around Airport Road, a speeding vehicle rammed into him.
Mr. Sesebo was fondly called Mega Bros by Madam Agatha Edo , the delectable and inimitable Woman Editor of the paper, whose Aunty Agatha column was a big hit with readers.
Sesebo indeed lived up to the name of Mega Bros. He was a father figure of sorts, a benefactor to reporters. He had a visage that should naturally turn people away from him if they met him for the first time for it appeared forbidding and tough but beneath that surface was a humane, gentle and caring man.
Once a hungry reporter got to the door of the newroom and saw him at his desk, he knew his problem was solved. That reporter was bound to get something to eat.
A lot of the time, Sesebo would come into the newsroom bearing edibles-fruits, boli or whatever he could lay his hands. He bought them in large quantities that you’d think it was for an occasion at home. But you’d be wrong. He had bought them for his “children” in the newsroom.
Once he settled down on his seat, the great scramble would commence. Reporters from every desk would dash to his office for the “feast” and minutes later, everyone would leave satisfied.
Sesebo was a good man. Sometimes long after he had finished his work for the day, he would linger in the newsroom waiting for the reporters he always gave a lift home to finish.
His death hit everyone hard. I still recall vividly, the tears that flowed the day he was buried.
We lost a good man.
•Source: Facebook
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