When the original edition of my book, POLITRICKS: National Assembly under Military Dictatorship, was first published in April 1994, I dedicated it to the late Chief Cornelius Olatunji Adebayo as a gesture of gratitude for all he had done for me. That edition also featured a letter he had written to me on 29 June 1993, which I included under the heading ‘The Home Truth.’ The letter had a significant context, which gave deeper meaning to its inclusion.....KINDLY READ THE FULL STORY HERE▶

At the time, I was a Senior Staff Writer with African Concord magazine, owned by the late Chief M.K.O. Abiola, and I was living with Chief C.O. Adebayo in his modest, rented three-bedroom apartment in Surulere, Lagos. This was a full decade after his tenure as Senator and Governor of Kwara State—a detail that speaks volumes, given that he owned no property outside Ilorin.

One week, after reading a feature I had written on the prevailing political developments in the country, he expressed deep disappointment with the slant of my report. I felt sincerely remorseful and tried to explain that I simply didn’t see things the way he did. The next morning, just as I was leaving for the office, he handed me a handwritten letter—a gesture that would leave a lasting impression.

Before I share the content of that remarkable letter, I want to thank all those who have reached out since his passing. The family is deeply grateful for the outpouring of genuine grief—from President Bola Tinubu’s personally signed tribute to the heartfelt message by his friend and junior from school, Professor Ibrahim Agboola Gambari (whose banter with him I always enjoyed), and many others. Yet, most people knew only the public figure—C.O. Adebayo, the politician, Afenifere leader, NADECO stalwart. Few truly knew the family man who mentored a generation of young men and women who went on to become successful in their own right.

From the early 1980s, when I came under his guidance, his home at 23 AbdulRazaq Road, GRA, Ilorin—named after the late AGF AbdulRazak, the North’s first lawyer and father of the current governor—hosted an ever-changing cast of residents: cousins, nephews, nieces, and others with no blood ties. People like me. Yet, Chief Adebayo and his late wife, Elizabeth Funmilayo, showed no distinction between us and their children—Bukunola, Diekolola (of blessed memory), Mosunmola, Abimbola, Oloruntoyosi, and Cornelius Oluwasegun. They treated me like a son, a truth reflected in the letter I now share—written exactly 32 years ago, last Sunday.

Dear Segun,

I have come this far in life by standing for what I believe to be the truth, guided by the light of the Lord. I may not have much to show for it materially, but I am content. A few compromises along the way could have made a tycoon out of me—but to what end?

You are blessed with intellect and a growing faith. But you need more purposeful guidance. There is no fence between light and darkness, just as there is none between truth and falsehood. The challenge lies in our perception and focus. “There is nothing either good or bad but thinking makes it so.” Yes, thinking. But what kind? From what perspective? Are we moralising politics or politicising morals? Big questions.

I write this because I must never deceive you. People have led nations at your age, without your exposure. My concern is to see your intellect properly channeled. Your work and accomplishments must reflect your faith. Adopt a stance, a character, a set of principles you will be known for.

When I think of ‘Aiyekoto’, ‘John West’, ‘Allah De’, ‘Candido’—these are names with substance. But then there is (name withheld), who had the potential to stand among them. I told him so in 1973, and I reminded him only last month. He is brilliant, but without principles or ideals. A wasted genius. A successful failure.

Don’t be like the exceptional farm labourer who puts all his energy into working others’ farms, when that same effort on his own land would have made him a model farmer. We’ve only seen glimpses of your potential. There’s so much more! Improve yourself—on the job if need be. Decide what kind of journalist you want to be, and become it. Nobody can stop you. You have what it takes, in Christ.

I want you to be the best version of yourself. Professor Sam Aluko and (name withheld) were both brilliant economists and Awoists. They had the courage to disagree with their leader when necessary. Aluko carved out his own identity. The other? A servant to every new master. Don’t be that.

Be yourself. The seeds of greatness are in you. Let them flourish. May the Lord prosper you. You know I love you. But you must grow with maturity.

One day, I hope to write a memoir to document how profoundly the Adebayos shaped my life. But that’s for another time. Given the renewed attention on ‘June 12’ and its aftermath, it may be helpful to revisit how that era led to what many now call the first major wave of “Japa” to Canada. In his book Running for Dear Life: My Work in Exile (published in 2000 by Moremi Foundations, Washington DC), Chief Adebayo recounted the events that led to his forced departure from Nigeria.

The foreword, written by former Foreign Minister Professor Bolaji Akinyemi, himself a NADECO exile, noted that while many now lay dubious claims to that legacy, Adebayo’s account stands out for its authenticity: “C.O. (officially Cornelius Olatunji, but ‘Commanding Officer’ to his close friends) Adebayo’s book falls into the category of accurate history, and it shows by its being heavily documented.”

Written in diary form, the entry for Thursday, 20 June 1996, sums up why he had to flee:

…Keeping a low profile was not enough. If you weren’t with General Sani Abacha, you were against him. We called ourselves NADECO. His people called us ‘Agbako’. The cream of our leadership and many supporters had been arrested. I had to go underground. I spoke with Senator Abraham Adesanya on Monday before he and others were ‘invited’ by the Police. He hinted that I should disappear. That ‘invitation’ was supposedly to help investigate Alhaja Kudirat Abiola’s murder. But they ended up detained. I’d already experienced Abacha’s ‘care’—five months in detention without trial. I survived, barely. I had refused a role in his government, a move he found unfathomable. Eventually, he apologised for my ‘unauthorised’ detention. So, how did we get here? My security contact—very reliable—confirmed I was a target. The Guardian newspaper even published this subtle clue on Wednesday, 19 June:

‘Four of the five invited were said to have left Adesanya’s office for the Adeniji-Adele FIIB annex on Monday. The last person, who Adesanya said could not be reached, was Chief Cornelius Adebayo.’

I got the message. I could not be reached. I should not be reached. And I made sure I wasn’t.

Before heading back to Jos on Monday, I spent time at the residence of the late Chief, where I often ran into Dr Bitrus Poga, President of the Middle Belt Forum. Chief Adebayo once hosted the group’s meetings in Abuja, and I have no doubt he would be proud of my role today as a member of the fact-finding panel on the Plateau killings.

Just last Tuesday, we visited Mahanga for a frank dialogue with Fulani leaders—an important engagement, though perhaps an aside here. What stays with me most is what happened three weeks ago, on June 12, in his bedroom. For over three hours, some of us gathered around him: his eldest daughter, Mrs. Bukunola Ajayi, Mrs. Mosunmola Jegede and her husband Stanley, Mrs. Mope Akinrinmade, Oloruntoyosi Thomas, and Segun—whose earlier fears thankfully proved unfounded. That afternoon will remain etched in memory as we bid farewell to Chief C.O. Adebayo—a true patriot and an extraordinary father.

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