February took Fathers from me
We often say adulthood is a scam because of the innumerable attendant responsibilities. True. Without any forewarning, one would be forced to brace up for everything – younger ones asking for money, being a special guest at occasions, breakups, marriage taunts etc.
However, one thing I never thought of, or could ever prepare for, was the departure of my fathers to the great beyond.
As a growing adult, I know full well the importance of having fathers. They are the ones we pattern our lives after. They are the beam of support for life and its unpredictabilities. They are the subconscious check that guides one’s deeds, not out of fear but of the desire to make them proud.
February, a month I always look forward to because of birthimental attachment, took two father figures from me, two of the giant pillars that have defined my sense of manliness and fatherhood.
My dearest daddy Fasooto
One of the very few fathers I look up to in Methodist Church. He strikes others as strict, stern, disciplined, no-nonsense, rigid and frugal man. Others, yes, but not me, his “dearest Kola”, or “My Kola”.
At church, work or home, he doesn’t take nonsense. You dare not eat the meat before finishing the food that came with it. If we youths took letter of assistance to him, we’d defend everything we need money for, like we were defending a thesis. On occasions, other youths had to put me in front, because they knew he would be more lenient if I were the spokesperson.
Whether as trust secretary or treasurer, Baba Fasooto's organisation and record-keeping are second to none, taking after the order of Pa Omotayo. He would not compromise his values either for a millisecond or a milli dollars. Not even God would make him. He’d rather confront God and say “but you are the one who said we shouldn’t do this”. He was an upright man in every sense of the word.
No minister could compel, cajole or captivate him to tamper with church funds — not on Baba Fasooto’s watch. For midweek services, he was always punctual. It would take a serious illness for him to miss any church activity.
Even during preparation for harvest celebration, he would be seen at the forefront, with cutlass, twines and a pick-up vehicle.
And when it came to issues that affected Kola, he was always passionate. He even encouraged me to take up the role of the church steward. It delighted him to see his son displaying commitment to God’s work. Even when the youths had conflict with the minister, he stood with us, choosing to put the worth of the youth above the impetuousness of a minister of God.
And his love for good music was unparalleled. Every stroke of the organ and drums was met with some body reaction from him.
From my degree days, through NYSC, master’s and relocation to Ibadan, Baba Fasooto was always cheering and encouraging me, reminding me that every success story starts with challenges and struggles. He was also my go-to respondent for stories.
Truly, igi tó bá tọ́ ò kí ń pẹ́ n’ígbó.
The best of man is man after all and must die, sooner or later. This is not only sooner but also painful and heart-wrenching.
Bringing myself to write this took time for the sake of clear-headedness. And already, one month has passed since my dearest daddy left.
I am reminded that as one grows older, it is dutiful to honour our fathers with our lives. They have done as humanly possible for them, it is up to us to take it a notch higher.
Baba Ijo
You won’t need to spend up to one minute with Chief Samuel Idowu Aluko to realise why he is the pioneer Baba Ijo of my church, Sir Adedokun Haastrup Methodist Church, Ogo-Oluwa. Baba oozed wit, wisdom and wealth. We were told that baba had become a polygamist before he gave his life to Christ, hence nothing could be held against him for having two wives.
Notwithstanding, the control and bond Baba Ijo wielded over his family, and the church by extension, was unparalleled. He had his house in order. Perhaps the most righteous polygamist one could ever come across. He led by example in everything, from donation to discipline and even humour.
Although Baba Ijo had no formal education, he often provoked applause from the church when speaking English, especially in his thick Ijesa accent.
Nothing was too big or hot for him to handle. Whether it was a corrupt Reverend or a chaotic dispute between members, he was a man for all issues.
And when it came to family, hardly would anyone not admire his dynasty — the way his children and grandchildren would swarm around him on Sundays at church. A truly glorious sight!
His legacies are all over for all to see and an iroko like him would always cause an earthquake when they leave, and an irreplaceable vacuum.
As an octagenarian, you conquered, Baba Ijo. Rest on.
