Category: Louis Odion

At first, it could be mistaken for a pornographic studio. The walls are sculpted with assorted portraits of nudity, sensuous imageries, certain to trigger the testosterone, if not stoke the loins.

With illumination made dim by a syncopation of delicately angled recess lights and the antique windows shaded by sparse curtains, the air around the four-floor covent hewn from ancient cave literally reeks of erotica this sunny afternoon.

But this is no America’s Heff Hefna’s sybaritic lair; it is the lofty shrine, the museum sheltering not only the remains of Gibran Khalil Gibran (arguably one of Lebanon’s greatest philosophers ever), but also the cream of his paintings and literary oeuvres that redefined universal thought in the 20th century. Predictably, camera is forbidden.

Unquestionably a commercial success long before death, Gibran is today regarded the next bestseller of all times after China’s Lao Tzu and Europe’s William Shakespeare, with his writings already translated into 108 languages and his prodigious paintings also displayed in museum in the United States and Mexico.

If he spoke to the depth of the human condition, it was probably because of the crushing experiences he suffered at a tender age. Son of a father described as an alcoholic, he was led away at tender age of 12 from Lebanon by his strong-willed mother, Kamleh, in pursuit of a better life in Boston, United States. Only for him to lose his mother, sister and half-brother within fifteen months, seven years later.

He would begin his artistic odyssey as a painter before becoming a writer and poet. What a million words could not describe he captured graphically with a few strokes of the brush. He died at age 48 in 1931 and had willed his body be flown from Boston and buried in the monastery he bought in his native Bsharri in the north of Lebanon.

Inside the basement, a hidden projector telegraphs on the wall a rather haunting quotation from Gibran’s verses: “I am alive like you and I am beside you.”

Further down is his simple bed and austere writing table. In another corner is a fireplace-like enclosure through which the iron casket bearing his embalmed body can be glimpsed.

The curator, Joseph Geagea, would simplistically reply an inquisitive member of the mission from Nigeria (Fejiro Adesida) last Wednesday afternoon that the perceived obsession with nudity was only Gibran’s expression of a preference for intimacy with nature, if not a yearning to in fact break loose from sartorial captivity.  Those naked may not be self-aware, Geagea added, but those in the nude are aware of their nakedness.

Well, a broader appreciation of Gibran’s stated naturalism would be a cry to man to walk the straight path: keep life simple, relationships true, promises real and the environment clean.

Today, with his native Lebanon, West Asia region and the world at large roiling in a turmoil that is both ethical and political in texture, the words of the sage from Bsharri could indeed not be more prophetic. In combating the political establishment, he denounces “the nation that places wealth above values”. As for worship, he emphasizes spirituality above religiosity. No wonder a tension often simmered between him and the religious entrepreneurs of the era.

Today, such values and virtues are, sadly, in greater deficit not only in Lebanon but the world over and the human condition increasingly gets desperate despite supposedly phenomenal leaps in knowledge and advance in technology.

For instance, as we gathered for barbecue and drinks in the icily cold night on the Ceedar height penultimate Tuesday, one of the faculty members of the retreat, Professor Edward Alam, had to excuse himself abruptly from the gathering, following a distress call from home in Beirut.

Israeli fighter jets were reported to be flying menacingly low above Alam’s penthouse apartment, apparently on yet another bombing mission to neighbouring Syria now reduced to utter rubble by the seven-year civil war sparked by the Arab Spring, inflicting one of the worst human tolls and refugee crises in human history.

It is a frightening spectacle the children of a lesser military god trapped in West Asia have learnt to endure daily as “almighty” Israel strives to impose her supremacy in the region since her unilateral declaration of statehood in 1948.

Worse still, in Lebanon, local politics remains poisoned today by ethnic suspicion. Oil and gas have for long been discovered in commercial quantity offshore of the country’s shelf of the Mediterranean Sea. But that resource cannot be explored yet for the benefit of the people because the politicians are unable to agree on the sharing formula of the expected fortune!

Leaders of various religious faiths, in turn, prosper from spreading the message of hate and division. Religion is exploited to advance narrow political agenda.

So, Professor Joseph Rahme is sure Gibran would today be turning in great pains in his tomb at the sorry turn of events.

Interestingly, Rahme, an expert in World history and one of the key drivers of the yearly cultural conversation between Lebanon and Nigeria, is a relation of the legendary Gibran maternally. (The philosopher’s mother, Kamleh, belonged to the Rahme clan.)

We see the ethical atrophy Gibran laments about the new world also finding expression in small bad social habits here. While criss-crossing Lebanon in a caravan bus, we saw that in the road rage. We saw that in the recklessness of drivers unwilling to use seat belts or some texting furiously in slow-moving traffic, without fear of reprisal. In Nigeria, the roving FRSC operatives would almost certainly pounce on you.

In many public spaces toured, we also saw selfishness in smokers freely puffing cigarette smoke, without regards for non-smokers.

Lebanon is hardly immune to the corrosive influence of the social media culture and the attendant obsession with the ostentation and addiction to its enablers, either. It is an emerging universal malaise, by the way. For instance, at accident scene nowadays, we are now more inclined to approach those in distress with the cameras of our smart phones instead of helping hands, to feed the mostly callous curiosity of the waiting blogosphere. At home, precious family time is stolen as members are distracted by their i-Phones.

So, slowly, the river of shared humanity is drying up.

But so acute has the situation become in Lebanon that it formed the basis for a presentation at the Founder’s Day celebration at the prestigious Notre Dame University last Saturday with octogenarian President Michel Aoun seated.

Targeted at the youth population, the new message is an urgent call for moderation to curb the danger increasingly posed to family values and social health. Since it has been identified as a youth affliction, it is felt that only the youth themselves can help the nation champion the crusade for caution.

Needless to mention that even as the youths were being challenged with stirring words to rise to a new national call against social media abuse while the ceremony lasted in the university’s commodious auditorium, a military helicopter hovered overhead throughout, perhaps underscoring a greater sense of anxiety – if not insecurity – gripping the nation itself at large.

In the midst of all this, there are a few who appear to find fulfillment in fidelity to the Gibran way, however. To Rahme, maintaining a strictly organic lifestyle is keeping faith with the memory of his great grand uncle. A scholar who has traversed the United States, Brussels, Paris, Instanbu, Cairo and London in his career, the balding scholar now prefers to live in the pristine Ceedar height where he was born, a great distance from the Notre Dame University where he works.

He prides himself on eating home-made meals prepared from fresh produce harvested from the garden behind his bungalow home. To force family members into a situation they cannot but communicate, he banishes television from his Ceedar redoubt.

However, there is one virtue generations of Lebanese forever share with Gibran regardless of where they reside – never forgetting their cradle. It perhaps explains huge remittance of estimated $8b annually from those in Diaspora and a certain inclination to maintain a presence at home even while being physically absent. The big men would erect wonderous villas, even when they probably visit home only once in a blue moon.

We see the universalism Gibran preaches in the naming space after the Nigerian nation and figures in Mizyara, a relatively more swanky community with even more stunning castles, built with fortune made largely in Nigeria.

This is the ancestral home of the Chagourys, the Chidiacs in Nigeria. Driving past Gilbert Chagoury Boulevard, you see Nigeria Avenue, then Abuja street, then Lagos street, then Herbert Wigwe street. (Well, we never might be able to tell what new usuring trick the Access Bank czar taught the Lebanese businessmen.)

It is the country of Habib Jafar, the promoter of the Nigeria-Lebanon conversation.

Stunning Nisreen Kaj of half Lebanese, half Nigerian parentage regaled us with the tales behind the mammoth castles. Hostess Honoree Claris Eid was excellent. Not forgetting our devoted company, the hyperactive Rachid Rahme.

Regardless of the scare by the flying Israeli bomber jets four days earlier, Alams would open the doors of his high-rise home in Beirut to us last Friday for a sumptuous dinner. As his beautiful wife walked in regally soon afterwards, it became easy to understand why the man with Kenny Rogers-beard had to abandon the seminary midway and surrender to wife’s insistence that the family relocated from the United States to their native Lebanon.

While seated in the terrace, you savoured a stunning aerial view of the city at night. The affable scholar, with a romantic voice and more than passable command of the guitar, later treated us to rendition of classics by the likes of Carol King on his hand-made Spanish guitar.

Of course, our own sweet-voiced “Mr. Shakomended” (Lanre Fakeye) swiftly “retaliated” with a newly composed potential chart-buster entitled “Ceedars”, inspired by our four-day immersion in the fabled ancient community hosting the biblical grove of prized trees. Guitar sound flowed from gifted Osamudiamen Ivbanikaro-Isaac and back-up voices by the troika of multi-lingual Norbert Olisakwe, Yinka Olatunbosun and Aseobong Larry-Ettah. While journalists Tayo Abodunrin and Kazeem Ugbodaga kept reportorial silence. Of course, novelist Razinatu Mohammed was the cheer-leader.

Truly, Gibran is not dead; the echo of his deep words still surely haunts his beleaguered homeland today.

 

Many wished they were allowed to capture the moment with the camera, but the literary amazon from Borno beheld a different picture in the officially restricted space. She saw politics in the classification of the Jeita Groto as the “world’s 15th wonder” and not within the first 10.

“I’ve seen two or three other heritage sites around the world rated higher, but honestly, I don’t think anyone of them compares to what I just saw here,” said Mrs. Razinatu Mohammed, a Professor of Comparative Literature at the University of Maiduguri, inside the bus taking us back to the Notre Dame University, Beirut last Saturday evening.

It was the end of the first day of exploration by the visiting Nigerian mission in Lebanon.

In terms of aesthetics, the award-winning novelist may have a point. Endowment is however not enough; such categorization is based on criteria that are anything but objective.

Rank is awarded based on votes. Without a huge demography to swing the ballot, a nation with a midget population like Lebanon cannot aspire to sit on the front pew.

But beyond the prejudice of global politics there is no denying the awesomeness of the treasure nature has gifted Lebanon, nor the illustrious memories it preserves.

Indeed, overall, it is impossible to feel the eerie chill of the Jeita Groto, ascend the dizzying cedars, sample the exotic cuisine, stand in the shadow of the 12th century Crusaders Fortress or the countless cenotaphs that dot Beirut and not be immediately overwhelmed by something far more transcendental – half excitement, half sobriety from a consciousness of walking the same path trodden by many ancient deities, the giants of history.

If we consider each cenotaph a paragraph, then we can only imagine how really colossal the book of Beirut is. Over the ages, sadly however, that giant tome has in part been distorted by either the footprint or fingerprint of slave-raiders, holy warriors, colonial bullies and, lately, neocolonial interlopers.

But arriving in Beirut today, the nation you still encounter is a resilient one indeed; one which, though stretched by the continuing carnage in neighbouring Syria, has simply refused to be broken by the cumulative ravages of history on a rocky homeland.

The Nigerian team – drawn from the academia, the media and the culture industry – had landed Lebanon on September 1 for the 2018 edition of what is fast becoming perhaps the most vigorous Nigerian-Lebanese conversation ever, to share national experiences with a view to forging better understanding across continents. The venue remains the Norte Dame University and the organisation was in coordination with the Cedars Institute (CI) and Wole Soyinka Foundation (WSF).

This writer was privileged to be nominated.

On a lighter note, as we soon uncovered, if nothing at all, Nigeria and Lebanon certainly suffer one similar social affliction – epileptic power supply. (Only that a semblance of “Up NEPA” was never heard in the neighbourhoods whenever public energy was restored, unlike in Nigeria.)

In Nigeria, the old stereotype is to profile the Lebanese mostly in the negative. Rightly or wrongly, a good number of their businessmen are perceived more as willing collaborators of unscrupulous power and business elite in laundering offshore illicit funds. In a left-hand homage, no doubt, to its banking system that is quite liberal.

Of course, that is not to deny that there are a good many others engaged in legitimate businesses and whose honest toil continues to water invaluably their host communities.

Apparently, it is such positivity that the CI/WSF initiative seeks to sustain.

This rather deep conversation between Nigeria and Lebanon actually began in 2014. Interestingly, it started under circumstances more funereal than fortuitous. In an extraordinary show of solidarity a year earlier, the academic community in Lebanon had opened condolence register and hosted a vigil following the demise of Chinua Achebe, the “patriarch of modern African literature”.

As the first anniversary approached in 2014, the brainchild of the Beirut memorial got talking with our own Nobel laureate, Professor Wole Soyinka, who, without hesitation, put his formidable weight behind the idea.

Thus commenced the exchange between the “Giant of Africa” and the “Pearl of West Asia”.

For more intensity obviously, the eleven-day encounter, usually initiated daily with stimulating talk by designated Lebanese scholar, is not restricted to lecture hall but also spiced with physical tour of many historic sites and monuments.

So, within three days, we had visited Byblous where the iconic Saint John Mark temple stands on the same soil the early apostles of the New Testament trod while spreading the gospel after Jesus Christ.

Not too faraway is the almost 900-year-old Crusader fortress, the clearing house of the ancient holy warriors who belched fire while enforcing Christianity. In its somewhat sepulchral magnificence, it overlooks the Mediterranean Sea.

Not forgetting the much romanticized Cedar height, shrine to the sacred shrubs rooted in the Christian Bible. So much that Lebanon is forever celebrated thus in Psalm 92:12: “The righteousness flourish like palm tree and grow like the cedar in Lebanon”.

Little wonder then that in post-Independence Lebanon, the tree is easily accorded the status of a cultural totem. It features in her national flag, currency and postage stamp.

In ancient civilizations, that Cedar was so venerated could only be an acknowledgement of its extraordinariness. Some of the species found in Lebanon today are said to be over 2,500-year-old. Often reserved for making the doors to sacred places, and burned as incense in cleansing rites.

During a tour of Cedar, we would learn, with pride, that the one of “patriarch” (large) Cedar tree in the fabled grove (already designated as world heritage site by UNESCO) has been named after our own Kongi. It is located at the spot where the literary lion had retreated once while on a physical tour. The snow had become too ferocious for the octogenarian.

Looking forward, from the inquiries and expositions thus far, there is no doubt that there are secrets the African giant and the Pearl by the West Asia can exchange for mutual benefits.

Nigeria will do better by learning how to commoditize culture the Lebanese way. While Lebanon has to weaponize her diversities the way Nigeria has, even if still wobbly.

Besides remittance from her citizens in Diaspora, Lebanon is shrewd enough to convert her bevy of historic sites and monuments to cash cow in tourism. But Lebanon’s roughly 10,000 square kilometers land mass is comparatively only a drop of Nigeria’s ocean of almost 1m square kilometres.

The fortune awaiting Nigeria can then be imagined if the cultural potential of her monster landscape and over 250 ethnic nationalities is fully exploited.

But whereas Nigeria could be said to have made significant progress in terms of integration in some areas, Lebanon remains largely haunted by centrifugal forces – ethnic, sectarian, social and political. Being pulled in different directions over the ages by priests of numerous faiths, being used and passed over by different colonial powers (Ottoman, French and British) with disparate cultures in rapid succession within a century have left the country with an identity that is sometimes difficult to place, rendering the quest for true national integration illusory.

So, despite inhabiting the same space for ages, brothers and sisters still deeply suspect one another. It perhaps explains Lebanon’s inability to conduct census since 1932! The present figure of 5 million population is largely speculative. The only dimension everyone is sure of is that there are more Lebanese in Diaspora than those at home.

Today, religion still provides the template for power-sharing: office of President is reserved for the Maronite Catholic; Prime Minister is for Sunni sect of Islam and the Speaker of the parliament has to be Shiite. The implication: the first looks up to Christrian interest for inspiration, the second depends on Saudi Arabia for direction and the third relies on Iran for confidence.

So, generally speaking, politics is still played and economic opportunities skewed brazenly in the name of the tribe.

The enduring challenge before Lebanon is, therefore, to produce a leader with a cross appeal for once to unite the fractured nation behind a common purpose.

Asked on this prospect during one of our discussions, Professor Edward Alam of the Norte Dame University and Dr. Jeoseph Rahme were both cautiously optimistic. Much as a truly unifying figure is desirable, they were unwilling to bet if that could be achieved in the near future.

However, for the mission from Nigeria, the days hardly passed without dramas, particularly at menu times. One such was after novelist Mohammed recalled during a banter with our Lebanese hosts how a Nigerian newspaper almost put her in trouble with the Sharia mob at home by casting a headline the latter found rather offensive. For saying “Sharia cannot stop me from writing about romance”, the zealots issued her a death threat.

But unknown to her, the man who had cast that very “satanic” headline twelve years ago was under the same roof and sitting directly opposite her!

She would freeze in mock anger when yours sincerely finally burst into laughter and introduced himself as the editor of the publication (Sunday Sun) then. The entire party exploded in a delirious laughter when I stood up in mock apology, offering a handshake in penitence.

On another night, the acclaimed spontaneity of the Nigerian ingenuity was on display when, upon apparent satiation with assorted Lebanese gourmet, journalist Yinka Olatunbosun invented a rap number with the hook  – “I like it like that”, while those seated close to her supplied sound by drumming the table.

That was after the bard from Borno, scion of the warrior Kanuri stock, had dazzled us with the rendition of two impromptu poems.

Just when you thought those were sufficient dessert to the feast, erupted another acapella by Lanre Fakeye of the “Shakomended” musical fame in the Nigerian circuit. With the wine bottle before him now understandably empty, his fingers were in the air, swirling on an imaginary piano.

Captivated, the two Lebanese Profs present (Alam and Rahme) only looked on, mouth agape.

Surely, the Lebanese will not forget in a hurry that some Nigerians were in town.

It was a difficult time that aroused the best and the worst in men. MKO was clocking two years in Abacha’s gulag by 1996 with family and political associates desperate to secure his freedom.

Worst still, his Concord newspaper group where this writer worked then was locked in what was proving a titanic legal tango with Supreme Court justices over a libel suit. Exercising poetic license, Weekend Concord had termed Mercedes limousines presented to their lordships by IBB as “political bribe”.

Naturally, opportunists, in turn, sought openings to make personal gains.

As judiciary editor with Concord newspapers then, Richard Akinnola (aka Ricardo) came under pressure to recant a report. Wheeling-dealing Godwin Daboh was aghast that he was referrred to as “ex-convict” after being found guilty of a 419 charge in the 70s. The piece featured in the “Celebrated Cases” column published by Sunday Concord then edited by Tunji Bello.

The controversial politician and known collaborator of the Abacha junta let words circulate that he was ready to talk his bossom friend, Abacha, into releasing Abiola, but on the condition that Ricardo retract that description.

While not disputing his conviction as a fact of history, Daboh claimed the Buhari regime had granted him pardon shortly being toppled in 1985.

About the same time, Ricardo also came under pressure to reach out to his personal friend and townsman, the legendary Gani Fawehinmi, to back-pedal in his fireworks against the Supreme Court justices in the libel case in which he was standing in Concord’s corner pro bono. The calculation was to deny the justices any excuse to recuse themselves from entertaining bail application filed on MKO’s behalf. Without them, it would have been impossible to form a quorum to hear MKO’s case.

In both instances, Ricardo stoutly refused. He considered acquiescence as mortgaging both his professional integrity and moral conviction. While physically telling Daboh off at the stormy meeting at the Concord headquarters that day, he challenged the Benue-born politician to tender proof of being pardoned. Volunteering to resign if proved wrong, Akinnola could almost swear no government printer anywhere had a memo hinting at such, let alone a gazette to that effect.

With the blackmail failing like a pack of cards, it was a humbled Daboh who soon pulled himself off the swivel chair and slouched to the car park that fateful day.

Again, that Ricardo opted not to be part of the emissaries to talk Gani into backing down did not come as a surprise to those who knew him intimately. You could almost tell where Akinnola would stand whenever and wherever the issue of professional integrity and the pursuit of truth and justice comes up.

That he is easily considered in the nation’s media circles today as one the foremost authorities in jurisprudence journalism is undoubtedly an acknowledgement of his passion for rigour and abiding fidelity to facts.

He turns 60 tomorrow. Here is wishing him happy birthday.

Astrologers paint them in sometimes conflicting colours: generous yet needy of attention, forgiving yet vengeful, loyal yet flirty, and charming even though insecure.

It is from such maelstrom of cosmic contradictions, we are made to believe, that the Leo persona crystallizes.

While the rest of us may be handicapped to join in such astral speculations, what is however not in dispute is that Dr. Peter Odili and Mr. Ray Ekpu, two illustrious members of this zodiac family just joining the septuagenarian club, are indeed a study in consistency.

Ekpu, a journalism icon, turned 70 on August 6 while Odili is nine days younger.

Until the unveiling of PAMO University of Medical Science in Port Harcourt in February this year and the national fanfare it generated, not many would remember that Odili had been a successful medical doctor before venturing into politics some three decades ago.

As editor of a national newspaper, it was inevitable that my path and his would cross more than 17 years ago, being not only the governor of a key state like Rivers but also a top player in national politics.

But we grew much closer only after he left office and was no longer in a position to dole out contracts. That afforded me the privilege for a closer scrutiny. You may disagree with some of his views and choices, but certainly not his humanity.

Those close to him even before he became governor always attested to his unstinting generosity in material terms. As I would later find after he left office, even more understated is his generosity of spirit – this complete lack of bitterness even when circumstances justify such.

Here is a man who, on account of national appeal and network, most bookmakers had projected would effortlessly clinch PDP’s presidential ticket in 2006, but for the eleventh-hour high-level intrigues and vicious smear campaign approved – if not orchestrated – ironically by the same man he had worshipped zealously and trusted blinded all along – OBJ.

Aspects of that momentous moment are already well captured in his memoirs, Conscience and History – My Story, published in 2015. He says he learnt early to bear betrayal with philosophical equanimity: “There is indeed no art for discerning who will stand with you to the end. It is also not a function of sanguinal relations or ethnicity. That is why the list is a mixed salad of friends, fraternal, religious, political, professional, colleagues turned betrayers, even extended family members… those by God’s will we single-handedly invited to occupy positions, those who could not pay school fees or transport their children to school until Odili came into their lives long before I became Governor; those who called me ‘brother’ and were called ‘best friends of Government’ on the basis of the tremendous patronages they enjoyed from my administration albeit meritoriously; those who had no leather shoes at the point of contact with me politically and who are today acclaimed success stories…

“People who wined and dined with me every day in office literally and were privy to most decisions and actions of my Government… foot-runners who became owners of cars through our patronage and assistance. Even those whose wedding were sponsored and funded by us and those who received free medical treatment in our private hospital for many years. That’s how deep the betrayal was.

“Like the scripture says ‘Many are the tribulations of the righteous but the Lord delivers them from them all’.”

After Yar’Adua was virtually foisted on PDP by OBJ, the story is told that a strong lobby to “console” Odili with the VP slot was similarly scuttled by the powerful interest. His loss became Goodluck Jonathan’s gain.

So, here is the man who could have been president in 2007 instead of Umar Yar’Adua.

What would then seem exemplary was Odili’s fortitude thereafter. On account of the raw deal suffered, many in his shoes would have recoiled in depression, if not burned the party’s flag outright.

Not Odili who, without prompting, enthusiastically became Jonathan’s main cheerleader in the subsequent campaign “in furtherance of the South-South cause”.

To sit with him in his Abuja redoubt is to come in contact with the warmth of his uncommon humanity. Whenever I visited and chatted with him, not once have I ever heard him, even within permissible allowance of Freudian slip, speak ill of those who repaid his good with evil politically. Forever smiling and genial, he would invite you to pour another glass of habitual red wine, always enjoining you to take life easy and not be too much in a hurry to return to Lagos.

Fiercely devoted to Catholic values, Odili treasures family. The spirit of solidarity easily discernible in the nuclear family he has built is perhaps only equalled by the durability of the political home he knitted together. It is perhaps a measure of his dexterity that that unit has managed to stand together till date.

Save for Rotimi Amaechi, virtually everyone who is somebody in Rivers politics in the last two decades will hardly be shy today to be introduced publicly as “Odili boy”. Incumbent Governor Nyesom Wike now provides the rallying point for the clan. From the Celestine Omehias to the Abiye Sekibos, Uche Seconduses, Magnus Abes, Austin Oparas, Kenneth Kobanis, Emma Okahs to Emeka Wokes.

Even then, the circumstances of Amaechi’s estrangement were somehow complicated. Harmony had flourished in the household until OBJ’s sepulchral shadow loomed. As the popular account goes, once Third Term collapsed in 2006, the vengeful Ota chicken farm thereafter stalked the land to exact a pound of flesh from those considered saboteurs. He doubted if Odili did enough to deliver him.

So, EFCC Rottweilers then wrestled down the then Speaker, Rotimi Amaechi. His ransom? An undertaking to commence Odili’s impeachment process after release. Once the then ultra loyal Speaker touched down in Port Harcourt from the Abuja detention camp, he reneged and went underground.

When Amaechi was later announced as winner of the PDP governorship primaries, OBJ vetoed it, famously citing “a K-Leg”.  Odili was given a short deadline to submit another name, failing which the imperial majesty at Aso Rock would appropriate that right. Then, the governor settled for Omehia, apparently oblivious of the tidal current of an ancestral feud. Though cousins, the latter and Amaechi were everything but friends due to old family wounds.

Thus emerged the crack in Odili’s political family which time is yet to mend.

As for Ray Ekpu, his biography may as well pass as the story of the Nigerian media in almost half a century. His chequered journalistic pursuit in the last forty-five years undoubtedly mirrors the industry’s transitioning in all its ramifications: from the colonial to the modern; from the preponderance of state ownership to free enterprise; from the relative prosperity of the 80s/90s to the hardship of today.

Segun Adeniyi was right in saying members of our generation owe people like Uncle Ray a debt of gratitude for inspiration. Indeed, the 1980s were the years of the locusts as well as the eagles. We shuddered at the spectre of Lawrence Anini and the nation’s new addiction to cocaine and heroin. But it was nonetheless the decade of th Nobel laurel when Wole Soyinka put Nigeria on world’s map as the first African and black to win Alfred Nobel’s golden medal.

It was also the decade of letter bomb when ace journalist, Dele Giwa, was brutally dispatched. To paraphrase John Galbraith, he paid the price for immortality – dying young.

But it was a death that shook the nation and put the presiding military dictator, General Ibrahim Babangida, on the back foot. Being Dele Giwa’s professional soulmate, Uncle Ray naturally became part of the legend.

It was not yet the age of Instagram where cant rules and folks are more obsessed with the glitzy, with vanishing appetite for the written word. Then, hypnosis from merely reading fine prose by Uncle Ray weekly was enough to make many of us decide early the career paths we wanted to pursue.

Sure, writing talent isn’t all; even more remarkable is the character – that crusading spirit – and the consistency Uncle Ray has brought to bear in his journalism odyssey. He dared authorities in his writings. Forever etched in our memories are the old front-page Black/White photographs of him being whisked away to prison or being arraigned in court looking disheveled, but unbowed.

Such depiction of courage in the face of bare-knuckle intimidation was no doubt inspiring for younger minds dreaming of a better country. We wanted to be like Uncle Ray, stand up to the political bullies and fight for liberty. Material benefit was never the primary motivation.

Doubtless, it was in recognition of the immensity of his talent and contribution that the department of Mass Communicstion at the Akwa Ibom State Polytechnic has been named after him. A rare occurrence indeed in a society where true heroes are seldom celebrated alive.

Today, it is no doubt a measure of his clout that, after Chief Segun Osoba, he is often the next choice to preside over mass fellowships of practising journalists anywhere in the country.

However, to describe Uncle Ray as only a journalism master hardly does justice fully to his enigma. Beside the crown of a prose master is also the jewel of the connoisseur of the good life.

In a moving tribute last week, my brother and friend, Dr. Reuben Abati, ended on a cryptic note: “I can attest that the man enjoys the art of being human. He loves to dance, he enjoys cognac and he is fashionable with all the things that go with that, especially those shapely things that light up a room even when NEPA takes light. When a young man follows elders around, he learns many things but because it is not everything you go home and tell Mummy, let us save those proverbs for another day.”

I take liberty to shed further light. The fellowship “Monumental” Reuben (“My Son”) alluded to could not have been outside the iconic Nightshift Coliseum tucked in the bowels of Opebi, Lagos.

I happened be a Gold Card member myself. Waddling into its glitzy gallery those unforgettable Friday nights, it was impossible not to immediately take notice of Uncle Ray in the corner reserved for the “Big Boys”. Of course, “the boys” like us were customarily obliged to first go over to pay homage.

Seeing him in the company of the impeccable Professor Bolaji Akinyemi carousing choice cognac, you got a final confirmation that the show could then commence.

Here is wishing Dr. Odili and Uncle Ray happy birthday.