It was Benjamin Franklin, an American polymath, who gave the world one popular quote on death. Franklin, in one of his writings, was emphatic when he stated that “death takes no bribes.” Franklin was born on January 17, 1706, and died on April 17, 1790. Perhaps there won’t be any need for him to bribe death, as he lived into his 80s.
Franklin was one of the founding fathers of the United States of America; a drafter and signer of the Declaration of Independence, as well as the first Postmaster General in the USA.
If death had requested a bribe, I would have looked it boldly in the eye and asked it to name its price. But the grim reaper that he is, walked in silently on August 25 and took away my friend turned brother, Dotun Samson Oladipo.
A former South African President, the iconic Nelson Mandela, also wrote about death, emphasizing its inevitability. “When a man has done what he considers to be his duty to his people and his country, he can rest in peace.” Mandela also lived till the ripe age of 95 before death came calling. At just 56 years old, my late friend Dotun had barely done enough for his family and friends to warrant the visit of this harbinger of sad news and sorrow.
Death stings. The death of Dotun was a blow to many of us his friends, colleagues, and needless to add, his family. Why must death crawl in on such a good person? And at such a relatively young age? I wept like a baby when, after getting the sad news, I got to his house and the reality of his demise dawned on me. In my entire adult life, that would be the second time that I would cry. The first was when I visited my dad on his sick bed in the hospital and I was told that he may not survive his sickness. He never did.
Dotun touched lives during his short but eventful period on this earth. It was as if he knew that he wouldn’t be here for long, going by how he always seemed to be in a hurry to help people. No one came in contact with Dotun and went away with any negative impression about him. He was warm, friendly, and always ready to carry people’s problems on his large shoulders.
When I resigned from Leadership Newspaper as Editor, it was at the prompting of Dotun Oladipo. Few years before then, he saw the opportunities in online publishing long before many of us did, and advised me to come on board. He tutored me on the nitty-gritty of the trade and handed me over to a professional webmaster to design and get a hosting company for my online newspaper, The Glitters Online. When I got a political appointment in Abuja, Dotun insisted that I should not rest the publication but rather employ a young editor to manage the website while I continue with my new assignment. It was the same little push from Dotun that ensured that many of our colleagues in the print media were roped into the digital world of online publishing. His mantra then was ‘the more, the merrier’. He fervently believed that we, who are professionals, should not allow amateurs to dominate the online media business. He kept his promise to me by ensuring that our mutual friends in the corporate world supported our new publications with advertisements.
Our paths crossed in 1989, when we returned to the then Ogun State Polytechnic, Abeokuta, now Moshood Abiola Polytechnic, for our Higher National Diploma (HND) in Mass Communication. He had done his Ordinary National Diploma (OND) at the Polytechnic, Ibadan, while I had obtained mine at Ogun State Polytechnic, Ojere. We hit it off almost immediately. Dotun was warm and accommodating. Despite being the son of a senior police officer, Dotun made extra income through taking pictures of fellow students with a small camera. That was an era when there were no mobile phones. His nicknames in school were ‘Dotunboy’ and ‘Oluya’.
In our set, there was steep competition amongst us to outdo one another in our studies. It was a big deal who scored the highest mark in any given course. Our days and nights were devoted mainly to studying and little else. Thirty-four years after we graduated, the results of that serious academic exercise were glaring, even to the blind. It did not come as a surprise that our graduate set of 1992 produced the following go-getters in Nigeria’s current media landscape: Eze Anaba, President of the Nigeria Guild of Editors and the Editor of Vanguard Newspaper; Debo Abdullahi, Editor of the Nigerian Tribune; Demola Oni, former Editor of The Punch Newspaper; Dr. Femi Adefila, founder of Rave FM, Osogbo and former Special Adviser to Erelu Olusola Obada; Jide Lawal, General Manager, Radio Lagos/Eko FM, and Mrs. Bimbo Oyetunde, former General Manager of Radio Nigeria, Bronze FM, Benin, and the Deputy President of the Nigerian Union of Journalists (NUJ).
Professor (Oba) Yemi Obalanlege, who is now the Olota of Ota is another prominent member of this set. Dr. Hamzat Dauda, who is based in the United Kingdom; Yemi Adebowale, former editor of ThisDay newspaper; Kunle Salami, a former Sports Editor at The Punch Newspaper; Semiu Salami, another prominent online publisher; Adekunle Adams, Deputy registrar at the Yaba College of Technology; Dr (Mrs) Funke Adesanya; HOD, (Mass Communication, YABATECH); Kunle Adeshina, a Director in the Lagos State Ministry of Information, Rahman Balogun, Head of Media at NIDCOM, and several others were members of this ingenious set, with scores of others based in the United Kingdom, the United States of America (USA), and several European countries. Even back home here in Nigeria, I’m proud to see many others doing well all over the country.
Dotun will always be remembered as a prominent part of this group. He insisted that we should continue to maintain the bond that was established 34 years ago in Ojere, and on many occasions, he was the official driver of the group whenever there were social events involving members. His car was always available to all, no matter the distance.
Although we were classmates, coursemates, and close friends, Dotun still called me egbon (big brother) since I am eight months his senior in age. It was particularly hard to keep my emotions in check during my condolence visit to his family immediately after news of his demise was relayed to me. It was hard holding back my tears when I saw the face of Taiwo, his loving wife. They were such a loving couple. You’d often see both of them together. They even both had their separate offices within the same building.
On the day my friend bade this world goodbye, he was at the gym within his estate for some light workout. Thereafter, he went to the office while Taiwo was at the residence of another family member whom they were expecting back into the country. Around 12 noon, he sent me a press statement to publish for him on my website. I replied by sending an emoji to acknowledge receipt of the press release. In retrospect, I wish I had called to hear his voice. Or perhaps, I should have chatted with him. But there was no way for me to have known that that would be our last exchange. God!
Later that day, he reportedly started feeling unwell and decided to drive himself to see his family doctor. Before leaving the office, he called the doctor to inform him of his condition. However, a few kilometers to his doctor’s place, he could no longer drive. He beckoned on a passerby to help him call his doctor, which the man graciously did. He supposedly waited until his doctor could reach him, by which time it was too late. And Dotun was gone. Just like that! The cold hands of death snatched my brother away without warning. Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting? You left the evil doers in this world, but you snatched Dotun.
Throughout my over 37 years of close interaction with Dotun, I never for once saw him angry. At just 56, Dotun left an indelible mark in the journalism profession.
Dotun, you were a man amongst men, a big tree that held AMACOG together. You soared like an eagle while on earth, blowing the wind beneath many wings. The name of your platform, The Eagle Online, was a perfect fit for who you were. You served as a bridge over friends’ troubled waters, bringing peace and harmony. We’d give anything to have you back in our midst, but you have gone to the Far Country to continue your peace mission. Tell Death, the grim reaper: ‘Do not rejoice; your joy is slim’. We shall smile and rejoice, even with your unexpected passage, because you were not just a big dot in a circle; you left a big vacuum that would be difficult to fill.
Be assured that Taiwo and your three beautiful daughters would be properly looked after. You were a good man who gave his all to his family, friends, and acquaintances. Good night, Dotun. I will miss your wise counsel and friendly smile. Fare thee well, my dear brother and friend!
See you next week.
