Opinion
OBA ADEYEMI III: A postscript and a song
Published
4 years agoon
If any man held a position for nearly 52 years and made a habit of turning heads and wowing audiences even as an Octogenarian, you have got to give him enormous credit.
What Oba Adeyemi III embodied was a fusion of his personality with the historically chequered stool of the Alaafin of Oyo. A studious voyage into Oyo history will reveal that very few Alaafins ruled without one serious crisis or the other. From the dethroned to the exiled; from the disgraced to the murdered. Oyo even had an interregnum for 80 years. This means Oyo was in such debilitating disarray, it was an exiled dynasty with no real leadership for 80years. No other kingdom other than extinct ones has that kind of history.
It follows that whoever becomes an Alaafin wears a potentially problematic crown. Uneasy lies the head that wears the crown.
Oba Adeyemi III certainly had a delicately vulnerable youth. He was his father’s favourite. Alaafin Adeniran had seen bodily marks and spots on Prince Lamidi immediately after he was born in the same areas he, the father, had. He had the hunch the baby would be future royalty. In a household of about 200 wives and Prince Lamidi’s mother, Ibironke, having passed away when Prince Lamidi was an infant, Alaafin Adeniran had to protect him from harm. He first sent the Prince to live with an Anglican school teacher and disciplinarian in Oyo. Later, he arranged for the young Prince to gain royal tutelage in the household of the Alake of Egbaland, Oba Oladapo Ademola, in Abeokuta.
Unfortunately, the Alake started having running battles with market women in his domain chiefly about taxation. The confrontations or protests were led by Funmilayo Ransome Kuti and Eniola Soyinka (Wole Soyinka’s mother). They chased the Alake away from his palace. He abdicated his throne and was exiled to Oshogbo. Prince Lamidi followed him there and saw the tribulations firsthand.
Prince Lamidi later found his way to Lagos where he lived in the household of Sir Kofo Abayomi, an ally of his father. It was while he was in Lagos that his father suffered the same fate as the Alake of Egbaland.
In Oyo, Alaafin Adeniran was facing civil/political battles of his own. There was political unrest in Oyo. Also, Chief Bode Thomas, an erudite lawyer and minister, had died mysteriously after an altercation with the monarch. The Action Group leadership pointed accusing fingers at the monarch who was a staunch supporter of the rival NCNC led by Nnamdi Azikiwe.
In the aftermath of political unrest in Oyo Town in 1954 which claimed six lives including Pa Gbadamosi Afojna (father of ex-minister and former Chairman of First Bank, Prince Ajibola Afonja), the regional AG-led government suspended and de-stooled Alaafin Adeniran. Sir Richard Lloyd QC, senior crown counsel to Nigeria’s Governor-General Sir John Macpherson, headed an inquiry into the unrests. The Commission of Inquiry’s recommendations fell short of expressly exonerating the Alaafin but it thought that elected representatives ought to show more tolerance to older members of the Oyo Divisional Council, including the Alaafin, on account of their difficulty to adapt to a new system. The AG-led government of the Western Region nevertheless deposed the Alaafin and exiled him to Iwo-Oke and later Ilesha.
I bet Prince Lamidi lapped up all the excruciating details of his father’s travails and swore revenge. The deposed Alaafin would later move to No 31, Egerton Lane, Lagos, the home of Alhaji N.B Soule, a wealthy NCNC stalwart who offered all material support to the deposed monarch. Alaafin Adeniran died there in 1960.
In Lagos, Prince Lamidi had taken to boxing, a sport that guarantees physical and mental toughness. He would later work with an insurance company. When his father’s successor, Oba Bello Gbadegesin Ladigbolu, joined his ancestors in 1970, it was a tug of war between Lamidi and other contenders to the throne. While Prince Sanda ‘Ladepo Oranlola was seen by many as people’s favourite, Prince Lamidi’s nomination was confirmed by the appointing authorities and he ascended the throne in January 1971. That came with the assistance of certain well-connected indigenes of Oyo, notably Chief E.O. Ashamu.
I would say Oba Adeyemi III’s 51-year reign was marked, in my view, by his adherence to the 48 Laws of Power applicable to anyone with supreme authority. The ones he did not wield are the ones below the status of a first-class monarch. He deliberately picked the trajectories of his kindness and also his revenge. He was unforgiving to those he thought disgraced his father. He meticulously timed his reprisals. He drew some of them close before he pounced on them.
I heard and confirmed a story of one of them. He was reported to be one of those who led a chorus of songs to mock his exiled father. He died but his son sought a Chieftaincy title in the town during Oba Adeyemi III’s reign. The Alaafin led him on by giving a “commitment” that he would be installed as chief in a pool of contenders. An installation date was picked. There was pomp and merriment on the grounds of Oyo palace. The chief-in-waiting came with his people. The Alaafin came to the forecourt of the palace to meet them. Surely, the installation would happen. So they thought. The Alaafin motioned the vociferous crowd to be quiet. He hinted that before the installation, the crowd would help him to give a chorus to a song. The crowd was excited. The drummers were poised. The chief-in-waiting was all smiled. The Alaafin rendered the song strung together to mock his exiled father immediately after he was deposed. Many people in the crowd, including the chief-in-waiting, got the hint. They dared not give any chorus. You could hear a pin drop. The Alaafin asked why there was no chorus. Dead silence. The Alaafin stormed back into the inner recess of the palace. There would be no installation. It was revenge perfectly exacted. Whether or not he should have taken a route like that is left to an individual’s interpretation of Karma.
Upon ascending the throne, Oba Adeyemi III primed himself to give truly royal impetuses to the institution of the Alaafin. What he didn’t get in terms of certificated qualifications, he made up for with a supremely admirable sense of history served in the most knowledgeable, candid, sometimes controversial, and witty manner. He had a solid grasp of both Yoruba and English languages. His choice of adjectives and mastery of diction was top-notch. If you hated him for any reason but had a chance encounter with him, your hatred of him would dissipate, even if for the moment.
He was indeed a controversial Oba. Sometimes for good reasons, as an indigene of Oyo, you just wished he did certain things differently. If he was not an Oba or a boxer, a sport he loved till his last breath, I bet he would have been a terrific lawyer. He knew his onions and deployed all his arsenals to fend off any circumstance that would challenge the status of his institution. He fought through the court’s certain incursions that came from Ooni Okunade Sijuade in a supremacy battle in the old Oyo State. As the feud reached a combustible crescendo, Osun State was created. Both historical stools went their separate ways. The supremacy tussle left the battlefield of government offices and the courts to have mere academic and bragging rights significance. Oyo owes him and his descendants a debt of gratitude for always standing firm in the affirmation of the supremacy of his throne. He never wavered. He never faltered. He never capitulated. He never failed. He had almost everything HIS WAY.
My study of Oba Adeyemi started within my own family. He was at the early part of his ascension very close to my uncle, Mr. Muraina Oyedemi Afonja, of blessed memory. My uncle was well-traveled, urbane, happy-go-lucky, and financially sound. He arranged Oba Adeyemi’s first-ever travel to the western world. He took the Kabiyesi to London and also arranged to have his first daughter, Princess Akofade, in a school in England. Both would soon have personal differences and they fell apart. To be candid, the Alaafin recorded a very good number of falling apart with allies. I don’t know the causes of the estrangements but collaborating with many of them would have been in the best interests of Oyo Town and the institution of the Alaafin.
I was a constant visitor to the palace. I went there as a child to watch cultural events and also football on a dusty pitch on the west side of the palace. I became friends with his son, Prince Akeem (now a second-term member of the House of Representatives), during the time we attended St Francis Nursery and Primary School together. That friendship continued at Olivet Baptist High School. There was a blackout in Oyo around June/July 1993 and the final of the Under 17 World Cup was to be played between Nigeria and Ghana. I met Akeem in school and asked if I could come to the palace to watch the final. We had no generator in our own house. He obliged by telling me he would meet me at the palace gate by 9 am. He was there on time. We walked towards the palace’s expansive quarters and Kabiyesi was doing a light workout close to the palace mosque. In absolute awe, I prostrated fully. He greeted me. Akeem introduced me. Remembering framed London pictures of the Kabiyesi and my uncle hung in the latter’s sitting room, I quickly told Kabiyesi I am a nephew to Mr. Muraina Afonja. He beamed and said nice words about him. It was my first personal meeting with the Kabiyesi. I thereafter followed Akeem into the living room of Prince Babatunde Adeyemi, the Alaafin’s first son, where we watched the World Cup final.
I would meet him personally again after I became a lawyer. He had suggested to a surveyor to find a young lawyer who would work with the surveyor in the administration of certain stool land. I was before the Kabiyesi. He offered me a seat. I felt trepidation but he put me at ease. He gave the instructions and I commenced the job. I must’ve made up to #5 million on the job before my foray into politics drew me away from him and the job, partly due to my political naivety, as I felt I was not safe with Alaafin’s affinity with a rival political party. I met him again in 2014. One of his chiefs was in police trouble. He mentioned that I should handle the matter. I resolved the case within hours at Iyaganku. The chief insisted I must accompany him to thank the Kabiyesi. I did so reluctantly. Kabiyesi had traveled but we got feelers that he was on his way back to Oyo, so we waited. He came in and he saw me among the hordes of visitors who milled around his car to greet him. “Lawyer, o ya ma bo kin tete da e loun”. I followed him sheepishly into a living room where I narrated the circumstances of the case to him. He asked if I’d been paid. I applied native intelligence and said “Kabiyesi, eyin le ran mi n’ise”. He reached for a leather purse, unzipped it, and retrieved a wad of mints which he handed to me.
Despite publicly aligning with the Muslim faith and at one time the Amir-Ul-Hajj for Nigeria, he was the father of all. He attended church programmes when necessary and could copiously quote from the Bible. There was a time some Islamic clerics declared opposition to certain parts of the Egungun festival routine. It was an incendiary moment. War was imminent. The Alaafin stood firm and erred on the side of tradition.
His sense of tradition was patent in the way he preserved much of the palace’s old architecture. He did not embrace swanky modernity. While the palace is not particularly modern, its identity as a palace of grand royalty is unmistakable. He dressed the way a Yoruba monarch should dress. Regaled in beauty, style, panache, and comportment, Oba Adeyemi was always a star attraction. His outfits from his dog-ear (abeti aja) cap to his shoes left no one in doubt about what true royalty should be. Never outlandish. Just adequately regal. When he was in the mood, he treated onlookers to a sui generis dance move that culminated in the forward thrust of his right leg for a light stomp on the ground. Classy.
He had the carriage, the swagger, the looks, the speech, the show of love, the elicitation of fear, the compassion, the mean streak, the never-say-die attitude, the mischiefs, the magnetic aura, the eye for opportunities, the penchant for spotting talents and the knack for picking the best brains to his fullest advantage. In a place like Oyo where people had a history of turning against their king, he needed to be all this. Call him Dr. Jekyll and Hyde, you’ll not be far from the truth. How he did all in nearly 52 years, walking where Angels fear to tread, with only a few stumbles, is remarkable. He ended his reign as the longest-serving Alaafin in history and one of the longest-serving monarchs anywhere in the world.
Oba Adeyemi III was a Solomon. I’m not talking about his numerous women but his wisdom. You just couldn’t out-think him. In the unlikely event that you managed to outsmart him, steer clear. He was almost always one step ahead even in the face of shattering controversies.
He navigated the disgrace that could have come from a drug incident in the United Kingdom in the early 90s. He was exonerated by the British authorities. He didn’t own the bag containing the package. A storm hovered over him upon the murder of Amuda Olorunosebi, the last Ashipa of Oyo. A mob stormed his palace and it was torched. He rode that storm. Another serious allegation of murder came when my mentor, Alhaji Rashidi Adebayo Atingisi, was murdered. He made it to the UCH, and wrote a statement in his handwriting naming one of the “palace boys” as the man that shot him but he died about 24 hours after volunteering his written statement. The alleged shooter was arrested and charged in court with murder. There was a trial but the court ruled that Atingisi’s statement is not a dying declaration. The shooting happened at night and there were no corroborative witnesses. The accused was discharged and acquitted. Another major reputational damage was averted.
Kabiyesi then fell out with his godson, Hon Kamil Akinlabi. The feud threatened to get dirty when Prince Akeem Adeyemi squared up against the godson in two consecutive elections (a third is impending). There was an air of fear that Hon Kamil, so close to Kabiyesi he could be said to know everything about the monarch, would spill certain beans. It’s either there are no beans to spill or Hon Kamil will keep quiet forever now that the great monarch has passed away.
Politically, the Alaafin was smart. He moved with the tide most times. For
long periods, he avoided Awolowo’s parties. It is a fact that his deposed father’s humiliation was politically-motivated. Up till 2010, it was the belief in political circles that the Alaafin would never be affiliated with any party having links with Awolowo’s political legacy. That changed with Alao Akala’s mismanagement of his relationship with the Alaafin. The monarch had no choice but to pitch a tent with the ACN to flush out Akala whose second term as governor, if he had gotten it, would have been disastrous for the Alaafin. He fell out with Lam Adesina and Rashidi Ladoja too but he sustained a good relationship with Governor Abiola Ajimobi.
All the time I knew him, he mastered the art of reinventing himself. Opinion polls in Oyo were not always stacked in his favour. But he would come up with schemes that kept him afloat. One was amassing a squad of young wives and the style of going to functions with a minimum of three of them in tow.
If there was a lull, he would invent a Chieftaincy title for the high and mighty. Thousands of visitors would storm Oyo. The glitz of the occasions brought more reverence, patronage, and cash. One was slated for May 27, 2022. Speaker Gbaja would have shut Oyo down with who is who in Nigeria for a Chieftaincy title. Chief Commander Ebenezer Obey and Ayinde Marshall were billed to entertain. It wasn’t to be.
He could have done a lot more to uplift Oyo and a lot of the indigenes. He had the clout and the opportunities. Of course, a good number of indigenes and non-indigenes are beneficiaries of his benevolence. Could we have had more benefits flowing from his clout? Certainly. He was a human being after all. Perfection belongs to God.
His passing will have socio-economic, cultural, political, and “soul-searching” ramifications for Oyo and even beyond. We hope it will be for good.
Kabiyesi, we will miss you. Rest In Peace!
Muideen Olalekan Olagunju, a Lawyer and Politician; writes from Oyo
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Opinion
Nigeria’s Insecurity: Why the System Rewards Reaction, Not Prevention
Published
6 hours agoon
June 6, 2026The most foolish person in a burning house is not the one who cannot find the exit. It is the one who knew the house would burn, watched it happen, and only ran when the ceiling collapsed. That is Nigeria’s governance posture toward insecurity—a pattern so consistent that it has become normalized.
“Ikú tó pa ojúgbà ẹni, òwe ló fi pa. (The death that kills your neighbour is a proverb directed at you).
The bandits did not simply arrive. They sent warnings ahead of them through a trail of violence that crossed state lines and appeared in every massacre headline we filed away as someone else’s problem.
When Insecurity Was Still “Someone Else’s Problem”
When the North was burning and the Middle Belt bleeding, the South West treated it as distant noise. Kwara became the first warning sign—the bridge between North and South—slowly slipping under the shadow of insurgency. The question every serious observer should have asked was simple: what happens when it crosses the border?
South West governors issued statements—careful, brief, and reactive. None moved with the urgency the threat demanded. Before long, violence arrived at our doorstep: herder brutality in Oke-Ogun, attacks in Oyo and Ekiti, kidnappings along the Ibadan–Ijebu-Ode expressway, and forest camps emerging in Ondo.
The warning signs had matured into reality, yet we were still searching for an exit strategy that should have been built years earlier.
The Problem: We Only Count the Dead
In safety performance management, there is a critical distinction between lagging indicators—outcomes after failure (deaths, destruction, losses)—and leading indicators, which measure prevention before failure occurs.
Aviation, oil and gas, and other high-risk industries understand this clearly: a system that obsesses over lagging indicators will always arrive after the accident.
Nigeria’s security governance is built almost entirely on lagging indicators. We count attacks after they happen. We rebuild after a collapse. We mourn after preventable deaths.
We rarely ask:
How many attacks were prevented this quarter?
How many threats were neutralized before execution?
How many cells were dismantled at the planning stage?
We do not know the answers—because we are not measuring them. The system was never designed to prevent. It was designed to respond: loudly, visibly, expensively, and always too late.
Another Base. The Same Question Nobody Asks
The presidency is reportedly considering a military base in Oriire Local Government Area of Oyo state. It is a familiar pattern: a major security incident, public outrage, and an institutional response designed to signal seriousness.
But the critical question remains unanswered: what has been the leading-indicator performance of existing bases?
How have long-standing military formations in places like Jos, Benue, and Zamfara—some active for over two decades—actually shifted the security outcome?
A military base without actionable intelligence is a stationary slaughter ground for soldiers. It does not prevent attacks; it often becomes a reactive outpost in a repeating cycle: attack, deployment, statement, investigation, and then silence—while underlying threat networks remain intact.
The Incentive Structure Behind the Chaos
The deeper issue is not the capability of security forces. It is the incentive structure of the system.
When leadership is judged only by incidents that have already occurred, governance shifts from prevention to performance management of failure. The objective becomes managing optics, not reducing probability.
Nigeria’s security budget has grown significantly over the past decade, yet insecurity has worsened. Kidnappings have become more brazen. Why? Because funding is justified by the persistence of the crisis, not its resolution.
If the problem is solved, what justifies the next budget cycle?
For years, decentralization has been proposed as the structural reform that could change the system—but it remains trapped in political rhetoric. Why? Because decentralization disperses power, and power in Nigeria’s political economy is not dispersed. It is concentrated.
Sixteen Days. Full Stop.
Forty-six children and teachers were kidnapped in Oriire. It reportedly took sixteen days for the presidency to authorize a specialized rescue framework.
Sixteen days before the Commander-in-Chief treated the abduction of forty-six human beings as a crisis requiring formal executive activation.
But responsibility in moments like this is not singular.
The Oyo State Governor, by constitutional convention regarded as the Chief Security Officer of the state and a recipient of security votes, also occupies a central coordinating role in the security architecture of the state. Within a crisis of this scale, expectations of rapid intergovernmental coordination, visible command urgency, and sustained pressure on federal response mechanisms are not optional, hey are inherent to the office.
Yet, the response cycle, from abduction to high-level coordinated action and physical engagement with affected communities, unfolded at a pace that raised legitimate public concern about the speed and intensity of institutional reaction.
By the time visible field visits and coordinated engagements occurred, the delay had already become part of the public record of the crisis itself—shaping perception as much as the incident shaped fear on the ground.
In a functional security system, crisis response is measured in hours, not days. Not for symbolism, but because time directly affects outcomes: every passing hour in an active kidnapping reduces the probability of safe recovery and increases the leverage of perpetrators.
Sixteen days, therefore, is not merely a lapse in timing. It reflects a deeper structural problem—where urgency is often declared after pressure builds, rather than operationalized when intelligence first breaks.
And in that gap between incident and action, citizens are left to absorb the consequences of delayed coordination across all tiers of authority.
The Verdict
Nigeria does not primarily need more military bases. It needs a new security measurement architecture—one that prioritizes intelligence conversion rates, early-warning response times, and pre-emptive disruption metrics over post-incident operations.
Every threat must be treated as time-sensitive, where minutes and hours determine outcomes—not weeks and statements.
Most importantly, citizens must shift the accountability question:
Not only “why did the attack happen?”
But “why was it not prevented?”
Nigeria’s security challenge is ultimately a leadership and systems failure—an institutional preference for reaction over prevention, because prevention is politically invisible.
You cannot hold a press conference about the attack that never happened.
Until this reality is named and confronted with precision, the cycle will continue.
Growing support has continued to trail a youthful politician and technology advocate, Hon. Khalil Mustapha Adegboyega, popularly known as Repete, as many youths in Ibadan North Federal Constituency expressed confidence in his leadership style and vision for development.
Across several communities within the constituency, residents, particularly students, artisans and young professionals, described Repete as one of the emerging political figures with strong grassroots appeal and a passion for youth empowerment.
Supporters said his growing popularity stems from his consistent advocacy for innovation, entrepreneurship and skills development aimed at addressing unemployment and creating opportunities for young people.
As an engineer and technology enthusiast, Repete is also said to possess a deep understanding of the evolving digital economy and the need to position youths for global competitiveness.
Many of his supporters noted that his approach to leadership focuses on practical solutions, mentorship and capacity-building initiatives capable of helping young people become self-reliant and economically productive.
Some community stakeholders who spoke on his rising profile said his humility, accessibility and relationship with the grassroots have continued to endear him to many residents within the constituency.
They added that Repete’s engagement with youths and community groups reflects his commitment to inclusive governance and people-oriented representation.
Observers within the constituency also maintained that the increasing support for the politician reflects a growing desire among residents for a new generation of leaders driven by innovation, competence and accountability.
According to them, many young people see Repete as a symbol of hope and progressive leadership capable of contributing meaningfully to the development of Ibadan North Federal Constituency.
Opinion
Repete or Regret: APC’s Moment of Truth in Ibadan North
Published
1 month agoon
May 6, 2026The All Progressives Congress (APC) in Oyo State stands on the edge of a consequential decision—one that may define not only its fortunes in Ibadan North Federal Constituency but also its broader political relevance in the state.
As the countdown to the party primaries intensifies, the question before APC leaders is no longer routine. It is strategic. It is urgent. And it is decisive: will the party align with the clear preference of the people or risk repeating costly political miscalculations?
At the centre of this debate is Hon. Khalil Mustapha Adegboyega, widely known as Repete—a name that has, over time, evolved from a political identity into a grassroots phenomenon.
A Candidate Rooted in the People
In contemporary Nigerian politics, where voter awareness is rising and expectations are shifting, candidates are increasingly judged not by promises but by presence. On this scale, Adegboyega stands tall.
His political journey is marked by consistent engagement with constituents—far beyond the optics of election seasons. From youth empowerment initiatives that provide practical skills and startup support, to sustained interventions in healthcare access for the elderly and indigent, his footprint across Ibadan North reflects a model of leadership anchored on service.
Unlike the transactional approach that often defines political relationships, Adegboyega’s connection with the people appears organic—built on trust, accessibility, and continuity. These are not mere campaign attributes; they are political assets.
The Danger of Political Disconnect
History offers the APC a clear lesson: parties that ignore grassroots sentiment often pay a heavy electoral price. The imposition of candidates perceived as distant or untested has, in several instances, resulted in voter apathy, internal dissent, and eventual defeat at the polls.
Ibadan North presents no exception.
With opposition parties closely monitoring the APC’s internal dynamics, any misstep in candidate selection could provide a ready opening. A divided house, coupled with a candidate lacking widespread acceptance, is a formula the opposition is well-positioned to exploit.
The implication is straightforward: this is not merely about party loyalty; it is about electoral viability.
Echoes from the Grassroots
Across the length and breadth of Ibadan North—markets, motor parks, religious centres, and community gatherings—a consistent pattern emerges in political conversations. The name “Repete” resonates with familiarity and acceptance.
Such organic support is not easily manufactured. It is cultivated over time through visible impact and sustained presence. For a party seeking electoral certainty in a competitive environment, this level of grassroots validation is not just desirable—it is critical.
A Test of Leadership and Judgment
For the APC leadership in Oyo State, the moment calls for clarity of purpose. Decisions driven by narrow interests, personal alignments, or short-term calculations may carry long-term consequences.
The task, therefore, is to balance internal considerations with external realities. Elections are ultimately decided by voters, not by party caucuses. A candidate who commands public confidence offers the strongest pathway to victory.
The Stakes Are Clear
Ibadan North is too strategic a constituency for experimentation. The cost of error is not limited to a single seat; it extends to party cohesion, credibility, and future positioning within the state’s political landscape.
In this context, the argument for Adegboyega is less about sentiment and more about strategy. His visibility, acceptability, and record of engagement place him in a strong position to consolidate support and mobilise voters effectively.
Conclusion: A Choice with Consequences
As the APC moves closer to its primaries, the decision before it is both simple and significant: align with a candidate who reflects the mood of the electorate or risk conceding advantage to a watchful opposition.
In politics, moments such as this often separate foresight from hindsight.
For APC in Ibadan North, this may well be one of those defining moments.
Aderibigbe Akanbi, a political analyst, writes from Ibadan.
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