I was preparing for the day when I came across the news of the demise of Olupo of Ajasse Ipo. My heart suddenly stopped beating for a few seconds.
I hope it’s not the same Olupo that I know.
No, Titilope calm down and be sure of what’s up.
I immediately situated a safe parking position and hurriedly checked the news. My friend Tunde had sent me the link on whatsapp immediately he saw the news.
No! This can’t be!
Who will I call when I need to hear a voice similar to my dad’s?
Who will I talk to when I need education on stories of my igbomina origin?
Who will call me even when he hasn’t heard from me in a long time?
Who will my report me to when I start my round of obstinacy?
My father figure is gone!
Memories started to gush down my already destabilized head.
How Kabiyesi took me as his own when I got to Unilorin.
How the Palace of Oba Woleola was my second home as an undergraduate. How Olori would stuck up foodstuffs for me after my weekends.
How Kabiyesi encouraged me during my tenure as Vice President of the Students Union.
How Kabiyesi was always available to listen to my stubborn rants.
How we had friendly argument about Bukola Saraki’s leadership style.
How I temporarily blocked him from reading my anti-ABS articles on Facebook.
How he looked out for me and never got tired of my wahala.
How I always disturb him for clarifications on the history of Igbomina.
How he would call me out of the blues when he notices that I haven’t spoken to him in a while.
I yelled out so loud. What time is the next available flight to ilorin? I need to be sure that this is not true.
Oba Wolelola was not just the Olupo of Ajasse-Ipo, He was the custodian of Igbomina heritage in Kwara. He was my father. He was my guardian.I can imagine him smiling at my dad, telling him how well he took care of me.
He was indeed a king like no other. He lived a beautiful life. He sure did!
Ya Allah, Please forgive his shortcomings and grant him al-jannah Firdausa.
Ya Allah, please grant us the fortitude to bear this loss.