Chief Rasheed Gbadamosi ranks among the luckiest in his generation. He became a commissioner in Lagos State at a young age of 27, and followed it up with the position of Minister of National Planning and Chairman, Petroleum Product Pricing and Regulatory Agency (PPRRA). In this interview with GBENGA ADERANTI and SEGUN AJIBOYE, the scion of a successful industrialist talks about his life, relationship with Fela Anikulapo-Kuti, career and his unparalleled passion for the arts, among other issues. Excerpts:
You wanted to be a medical doctor but ended up an economist. What happened?
In my time, you were either a doctor or a lawyer. You are talking about the 50s, when even your parents’ daily prayers for you were that ‘you’ll become a doctor or lawyer’. So, they were the in-thing in those days, and I am sure that there must be something to it. But thankfully, my biology was lousy. If I saw blood, I would scream and almost run mad. So in that respect, I was a non-starter. Secondly, my father was a successful businessman and member of the House of Assembly, self-tutored. My sister, Mrs. Folami, was the attorney-general of Lagos State.
So your father was a member of the House of Assembly?
Yes. Alhaji S.A. Gbadamosi, he was the treasurer of the Action Group. He was also a national executive member of the Action Group, and one of the founders of the group.
How much of these would you say reflected on you?
I went with him to campaigns. Akintola lived in our house. Many other top politicians of those days lived in our house. And they were part of my growing up process. Their children were my friends. So we all mingled, and my mother used to joke that ‘you young man, you’re going to be a politician’. She said this because I always read newspapers and I was very close to my father.
Your mother thought you were going to be a politician. Was she right at the end of the day?
The fact that I participated in public issues moved me near enough. All the appointments then came. I was public-spirited.
Let us go back to the question of what you wanted to study. What we gathered was that as a successful businessman, your father wanted you take over the family business.
That is absolutely true. I remember what transpired between us that day. We were approaching our school certificate examination period, and dad and I stood on the balcony, and he said ‘Young man, you’ll soon be done with your school certificate. What do you think you want to do?’ That was the first time we would be having such a discussion. I said I wanted to read medicine, but that my biology was not the best. And he just laughed and said something like ‘children of these days, you would go and read economics.’ As at that time, I had not heard about economics. So as soon as we completed the school certificate, I hopped on the plane and off to overseas.
Was it the allure of overseas that made you agree to go abroad to study economics?
I think it was assumed. But even before then, all the people that my father has had a hand in training had schooled abroad. And when the likes of SLA and HOD came back and stayed in our house, that made our house a spectacle.
You were a commissioner in Lagos State at the age of 27. Don’t you think your generation was very lucky?
If that is your interpretation, I think I accept it in good faith. It was a conference of circumstances. First, I had a background. And secondly, I had this profile, I was writing a great deal in the newspapers, especially the Sunday Times of those days. Sam Amuka, Gbolabo Ogunsanwo and others all knew me. I always contributed to the papers. I was writing a lot of analysis. I would analyse the budget and make deep comments, which I think must have come to the notice of the powers that be.
Any regret not studying medicine?
There couldn’t have been any regret. I soon fell in love with the science of economics and the allure of public discourse. Public affairs became a wonderful fascination. As a matter of fact, as soon as I entered the university, I was immersed in world affairs a great deal. I belonged to several organisations involved with world decolonisation. And the University of Manchester was a hotbed for world politics at the time. And when MPs came to give lectures at the university, we would bombard them with questions. Issues like the apartheid, Vietnam and the Eastern block captured our imaginations.
While growing up, you were surrounded by great people like your dad, Awolowo, HOD Davies and others like them. How much of these imparted into you to form the kind of person you are today?
Let me exemplify that by taking on one of the trials of the Action Group crisis. A lot of youngsters were affected by the socialist orientation. But my father would not want to hear it. He was a businessman, running his business successfully, running his factories and making his money. Whereas Chief Awolowo was rubbing minds with the left-wing people like Sam Ikoku and all the radicals of left-wing persuasion.
Which side do I belong? Ideologically, I had my sympathy with these people, but my father was still my father, and my heart was with him. But in terms of the global dimension, I was a socialist. By the time I came back, Kanmi Ishola Osobu, Fela Anikulapo-Kuti and others had become my great friends. At the beginning, my father thought it would soon wear off and that I would come to his side to join him in the business, which I did. So the transition from a rabid left wing youngster to daddy’s assistant in the office, helping him to run the factory…
(Cuts in) Most people in your age bracket are either members of Afenifere or other socio-cultural groups. You don’t seem to belong to any group. Do you have any particular reason for this?
It is wonderful that you raised this. Erstwhile leader of Afenifere, Baba Abraham Adesanya, in-between seriousness and humouring, wondered why I would not join Afenifere and be part of what he thought my father would have been, the Yoruba persuasion of Afenifere. But I could not see myself in sectional politics like that. Looking at the national picture, I could not fathom a bifurcated political alliance like that. I mean if I were going to talk or reason about anything at all, it would be about Nigeria, Africa and world politics.
But you’ll agree that Afenifere is not a political organisation.
It is a cultural organisation, but tending towards politics.
Is there any possibility you might still join?
That is too late now.
You are a businessman, a playwright and one with deep passion for the arts. When do you get all the energy to do all these from?
Even me, I have always wondered where it comes from. Let me tell you a story of what happened to me recently. A childhood of mine dragged me and my wife to a shindig. It was the first time in a very long while that I would be up till about 2am, dancing and eating. The following day, I found myself sleeping all the day because I couldn’t cope with the deprivation of sleep. And so I said to myself, is this what I would be doing if I were a politician? But let me say something here, the assignments I had for the country, as a commissioner in Lagos State, and more importantly, as a federal minister, were gripping and of high concentration. But thank God, it was for a short period, but which was very tasking. Abdusalami did not appoint an oil minister, so some of those responsibilities were taken up by me. Within the period, I had a neck pain which didn’t leave me for about six months because you would just wake up and be asked to proceed to Geneva or to proceed to New York. You didn’t know how many hours you spend flying all over the world. It was so tasking, and I really didn’t know that I was made of that stuff.
This was a period when the country was trying to democratise.
Exactly, we were democratising, and it was taking a lot of tolls in terms of what we did and how we did it. And Abdusalami was absolutely insisting on quitting along with his team. It was a fine legacy, and I am very proud of that.
Your period at the PPRA, how did you get the appointment?
I was sitting down, minding my own business when President Olusegun Obasanjo sent somebody to me to say they wanted me to come and help.
But you accepted to serve once again.
Yes, of course. I will not really turn down an offer to serve my nation. It is a national assignment. Although it wasn’t a full-time job, but it turned out to be very tough, locking horns with Adams Oshiomhole and his men. We had to endure six strikes led by Oshiomhole.
So Adams Oshiomhole gave you people tough time?
Of course, he did (laughter).
Do you have any particular regret about that period?
There is none at all. I was doing what I thought I had to do in terms of policy choices. Being an economist, you would be confronted all the times by choices.
Looking back, what would you love to have done differently, starting from when you were a commissioner, a federal minister and in the PPRA?
It was a progression in terms of accumulation of knowledge, service to humanity and trying to make the country better.
You were with Obasanjo and Abdusalami. Many people have said so many things about these two, including the good, the bad and the ugly.
(Cuts in) I don’t know about that (laughter).
Kindly give us a little insight into these two men.
I think their military background makes them rather stern and decisive. I found out that whatever I presented to them, say ‘sir, how would you advise me on this?’, I found them exceptionally exemplary, if you like. In terms of policy choices, they were both discerning. And I picked up a lot of lessons from their capacity to take decisions. I went through some tutelage in statesmanship.
Could this be as a result of the respect they have for you?
On the contrary, the respect I have for them.
Let’s look at your passion for the arts. At what point did you fall in love with arts?
For me, art is an alternative definition for beauty of life. You look at mother art and all the things that are attributed to us to have pleasure, and you could get yourself involved in it or you could be a bystander. Most of us are bystanders. There are those of us who immerse ourselves in it than others. So, that has been my own choice.
I loved literature in my secondary school days. I was taught by my seniors whom my white teachers thought I should emulate to hone my skill in literary expression. And I decided to take an interest in whatever was going on around me. Alongside reading for economics and reading the literature of dissent and politics of agitation, I found myself reading about protest literature. Those are the expressions of my generation. And that transmitted into literature of drama and literary readings of literature of protest and appealing to the young minds. By the time you find yourself immersed in all that, you find yourself adoring creative efforts, adoring what people are drawing and what people are composing, like in the case of Fela; and Fela and I became great friends. There is something I found fascinating about him, the ability to translate songs into protest songs. When you compose songs and talk about life’s absurdities. You know, 24 hours in a man’s life cannot just be taken up by sitting down reading, eating. You have to be engaged in what goes on around you. In French literature, there is a play, which translates into ordinary English that you must always be engaged in what goes on in the society. You cannot just sit down and wish that something happens. Get up and do something, go on the streets and protest and share views with your countrymen. And so, Kanmi Ishola-Osobu, Fela Anikulapo Kuti and others, together we formed an association. I was the secretary.
All these people that you mentioned are known radicals. What about you?
Of course, we are all radicals, nobody will deny this.
But unlike them, you didn’t get into any trouble with the government.
I spent two weeks in Kirikiri prison.
What offence did you commit?
I wrote a play.
What play was this?
It was called Trees grow in the desert.
Was it a protest play?
It had elements of dissent in it, and Gowon said they should come for me because it was playing on radio. He listened to it on a Sunday afternoon, and said ‘go and get that guy, whoever wrote it’. So I was arrested and put in Kirikiri. My father was worried and sent people to ask Jakande why his son was sent to Kirikiri prison. In the end, they saw that I was harmless. But till tomorrow, Gowon would see me and laugh and joke about it. He would say ‘Eh, my prisoner, how are you today?’.
Can you give us a conservative figure that you have spent on arts?
I cannot put a figure to it.
Would it be millions, billions or more?
Definitely it cannot be billions. Where would I get that from?
Okay then, how much would you say that you have spent to purchase a single arts collection?
I have paid something in the range of N6 million or N8 million for a collection.
You knew Fela intimately. What is it that you knew about him that the world didn’t know?
Hardly anything. His life was public knowledge. The most moving fallout from my relationship with him was attending to him at his death bed in his house. And Dede Mabiaku, who was one of his disciples, came looking for us when he was very, very ill and at the point of dying. And I looked for Wole Burknor, who was our chairman, to inform him that one of us was dying. So we trooped to his house in Kalakuta Republic, and proceeded to take him to the hospital.
Up and till that time, Fela was still very rascally, refusing to go to any hospital. But at that last minute, he finally submitted himself and we drove him to the farthest hospital so that the prying eyes of journalists would not know where he was. So we took him to a hospital in Lagos Island. But it was too late, and few days later, he was gone.
Looking at him in those last moments, what went on through your mind?
It was sorrowful. Resonance of his songs and compositions came flooding through my mind. The world should not have lost such a person.
Are you blaming the world for his death?
The society in general, I mean all the beatings that he got, they must have no doubt taken a toll on him.
Do you still listen to his music?
Of course, I still listen to his music. I am one of his greatest fans.
What is your attitude to religion?
My father brought me into this world as a Muslim. And I took my Rasheed as a name, and I try to live by Islamic tenets, though I cannot claim to be the most religious. I respect the religion like I would respect any other religion. I even went to a Methodist primary school, and I got a distinction in Christian Religious Study.
What is your attitude to traditional religion?
There is a lot of philosophy in it. I have just rediscovered my D.O. Fagunwa novels, and you know you can get a lot of philosophical ideas in them. I am the Chairman of Eyo Agere in Lagos; I inherited that title. There is nothing fetish about it. It is a cultural and entertainment thing, especially where you need to learn all the sayings and ofo (incantations).
So you can conveniently recite the ofo?
Sure, I have to know them in order to lead my flock (general laughter).
