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The Kashamu I Knew…

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By Austin Oniyokor

In spite of our cultural and religious beliefs, a lot has been written and said about the late Senator Buruji Kashamu since his death on the 8th of August, 2020. Some good; others not so good. And yet some others, somewhere in-between. The most intriguing fact about some of the comments was that they came either from those who had spoken glowingly of him in the past when all was well between them and others who knew little or nothing about the late Senator Kashamu apart from information gathered from third party sources who had an axe to grind with him during his lifetime. While this is not an attempt to join issues with them, the fact is: those acting the sanctimonious script are not in any way better than the late Senator Kashamu. But, that is a matter for another day.

As we mark the eighth day fidau (an Islamic prayer for the repose of the soul of the deceased) this Sunday (16th August, 2020), it is only appropriate that I write about the man I worked closely with as his spokesman for 11 years of my life. The irony of life is that even when we know of our mortality and the certainty of death for all human beings, we are nonetheless shocked at how it comes to snatch our loved ones from us when we least expected it. Even as I write this, I am yet to recover from the shock of the suddenness of the death of the one we called “Baba” (father) and “Chairman” depending on the occasion.

Being a great man that he was, the late Senator Kashamu was like the proverbial elephant. People describe him from the prism of what they felt or were told about him.  But for those of us who had the rare privilege of working directly with him, he was not just our employer, he was our leader, father, benefactor, counsellor, teacher and defender. And there were many instances when he demonstrated each and all of these qualities not just to me but many others.

In November, 2009, I was ensconced in the newsroom of The Nation newspapers when my phone rang and on the other side was the then Chairman of Ijebu East Local Government Area of Ogun State, Comrade Tunde Oladunjoye, who has been a friend and elder brother since our path crossed in the late 90s at the Nigerian Institute of Journalism (NIJ). He asked if I would not mind managing the image of a group of companies that was into hospitality, oil and gas, real estate, etc. I answered in the affirmative and he asked me to meet him in Ijebu the next Saturday, which was Sunday, the 8th of November, 2009. From his house in Ijebu-Itele, he took me in his car and we both drove to the Ijebu-Igbo country home of Prince Buruji Kashamu.

We met the late Senator meeting some persons within the compound. Immediately, he finished he asked Comrade Oladunjoye to bring me into his sitting room. He asked a few questions, including what I was earning where I worked and what I would like to earn. Satisfied with my answers, he asked me to meet him at the Lagos office on Monday, 9th of November, 2009. And the rest, as they say, is history.

For 11 years, he taught me useful lessons about life, business, politics and the law.

While those who may not be better than him in character and conduct pontificate, I saw and knew a man who braced all the odds of his humble beginnings to rise to the top, setting up companies that provided jobs for hundreds of men, women and youths.

I had barely spent a week working with him when he called me into his office and brought out tonnes and tonnes of documents, and told me of the sad experience he had with the British government at the instance of their American counterpart. You could see the hurt in his eyes and feel the pain in his voice whenever he recounted his experience all the six odd years. Regardless of what some persons may want us to believe, he was freed by the British authorities on the orders of the court. He practically went through the crucible and he was never convicted of any crime both in Nigeria and abroad. We live in a modern world governed by law and order. Whenever there are issues or a crime is alleged, the proper place to ventilate such is the court. And once the court pronounces the fellow innocent and releases him that remains the position of things until a superior court rules to the contrary.

And where there is none, that ends the matter, regardless of the machinations and wishes of haters and naysayers.
It is by now common knowledge that the act of giving came naturally to the late Senator Buruji Kashamu. Many, including King Wasiu Ayinde Marshall have attested to this. But, beyond this, the mammoth crowd that wailed and welcomed the motorcade that conveyed his remains to Ijebu-Igbo on the 9th of August, 2020, bore eloquent testimony to how much impact he had on the lives of the people. Indeed, what many did not know was that once the news broke that their benefactor was no more, the people trooped to his house and kept vigil until his body arrived the next day.

On a personal note, I have many experiences of his generosity but for time and space constraints, I will cite two examples. On Thursday, the 7th of August, 2014, I was on my way to work around 6a.m. when some dared-devil armed robbers waylaid and robbed me on Oduduwa Street, off Adekunle Fajuyi Way, G.R.A, Ikeja, Lagos. They made away with my official car – a black 2008 Toyota Corolla and everything in it. I went to report at the Area F Headquarters of the Nigeria Police Force and got a friend’s phone to call my boss who was in Osogbo for the election campaign of Senator Iyiola Omisore. As I narrated what happened to him, his concern was my safety and well-being. He asked where I was and I told him the Police Station. He said once I was done making the statement to the Police, I should leave and that he would get me another car immediately. True to his words, in less than 48 hours, my ever-loving and caring boss got me another Toyota Corolla! That was the essential Kashamu that I knew.

In December, 2018, during the Christmas break, I was on my way to Uyo, the Akwa-Ibom State capital to attend the wedding ceremony of one of my sisters-in-law.  As I approached Sagamu Interchange, my phone rang. It was my boss on the other side. I greeted him and then he asked where I was. I told him I was going with my in-laws to Uyo for a wedding. He wondered how I would subject myself to a journey of about 10 to 12 hours by road. I told him the weather was bad because of the harmattan season. I tried to convince him but he would not budge. He said if I could not go by air, I should return to Lagos and send a gift to my in-law who was the bride. My boss asked me to meet him at the office for the gift. When I got to the office, he gave me N250,000 to send to my sister-in-law. That was the Kashamu I knew.

On the business front, he would regale us with the stories of how he lived in Makoko-Yaba and worked at the Mainland Local Government. Afterwards, he started travelling to the Kaduna plant of Peugeot Automobile Nigeria (PAN) to buy units of Peugeot cars that he sold and turned over with time. He soon veered into the sale of black oil, gold, diamonds, sugar, cement and other commodities to make end meets. At any point in time, he had multiple streams of income. He was always challenging the status quo and seeking new ways of doing things. That accounted for many of the ground-breaking initiatives that he championed in his business endeavours such as the Stamp Duty Act and the sanitisation of the lottery industry.

He did not manoeuvre the law. Rather, he used the law to his advantage and the advancement of the society. Not many knew his role in the huge revenue being generated by the Federal Government from the Stamp Duty. The case which resulted in the judgment the Central Bank of Nigeria relied upon to issue the directive to Money Deposit Banks (MDBs) to start deducting the Stamp Duty fees was initiated by Kashamu. It was not a tea party taking on all the 25 banks. The same thing played out in the lottery business. The quantum leap in the revenue and remittances that the Federal Government now realises from the lottery business since December, 2019 is due to another legal battle that he embarked upon. That was the Kashamu I knew.

Love him or hate him, there is no denying the fact that the late Senator Kashamu has left his imprints on the politics of Ogun State and the South West. He happened on the political terrain like a bolt and raised the bar of party politics. At a time when many politicians were contented with giving handouts to their followers, he came on the scene and empowered the people by helping them to set up their businesses, picking up tuition fees of their children and bought them vehicles, with bundles of naira and dollars to boot.

Of course, this was where he had many enemies. Those who were used to supressing and subjugating the people could not understand why he came to literally liberate their preys. They ganged up against him and sought to undo him. But, as rich and powerful as they were, he roundly defeated them using his matchless grasp of the law and the legal system to outwit them even until he breathed his last.

In 2015, when he was elected as a Senator to represent Ogun East Senatorial District at the National Assembly, he warned all of us who were his aides not to be involved in any shady deals. He said if anyone did, he would not hesitate to hand him over to the law enforcement agencies. That was exactly what he did. His sojourn at the Senate was Spartan and about service to his people.

To those who saw the late Senator Kashamu from afar, he was a tough man. Yet, he was as tender-hearted as a child. For me and most of my colleagues, if not all, we had in him a boss, leader, father, friend and mentor. He was quite energetic and hard-working. He would call you up anytime of the day and night either to give instructions or seek your opinion on issues. We often wondered if he ever slept.

He was very down-to-earth. He would joke and laugh with his employees and their folks as if they were mates. On the 4th of January, 2020, my wife had sent him “Happy New Year” greetings. He replied, saying it came late and that regardless of the greetings I had sent on the 1st of January, 2020, he would have appreciated my wife’s greetings the more. She apologised and promised to do so on the 1st of January, 2021.  None of us knew that was not to be. For my boss, the late Senator Kashamu, a great man shows his greatness by the way he treats little men. That was the Kashamu I knew.

Imbued with an uncommon level of intelligence, sharp memory and heart of gold, the late Senator Kashamu connected with people and touched many lives in more ways than one. He has played his part and left the stage with a loud ovation. We have seen the kind of emotions and outpouring of love and empathy that his death evoked. It remains to be seen how his detractors and those gloating over his death would leave. Until then, I say rest in perfect peace, my exceptional boss and benefactor!

 

*Austin Oniyokor was Media Adviser to the late Senator Buruji Kashamu

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Opinion

A SILEC Voice Against the Tide by Kwame Jamal

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The morning sun streamed through the stained-glass windows of the Anglican Church of Transformation Hall, casting patches of amber and gold across the gathered crowd. Mothers clutched small bouquets—it was Mother’s Day—and children fidgeted in their seats, unaware that history was about to be made in their midst.

At the podium stood Sunny Irakpo, his hands steady on the lectern, his voice carrying the weight of nearly two decades of quiet war. Not a war of soldiers or bombs, but one fought with pamphlets, school visits, rehabilitation talks, and now—something far greater.

Before him sat bishops in clerical collars, doctors in tailored suits, community leaders in colorful Nigerian attire, and ordinary men and women who had crossed oceans for a better life. They had come to witness the unveiling of the SILEC International Magazine (SIM)—the first global media platform dedicated exclusively to reporting drug-related issues across Africa, the United States, and beyond.

“Just like a SIM device is important to a phone,” Sunny began, his voice warm yet resolute, “imagine one with a sophisticated phone without a SIM. Such a phone will be useless. Therefore, SIM is a solution provider—an enabler designed to bring value, reset mindsets, and create a global platform bold enough to revolutionize the media ecosystem.”

The room leaned in.

Three hours earlier, Revd. Canon Paul Obike had opened the ceremony with a prayer and a smile. The anchor Venerable Shola Ogbedebi , He looked out at the sea of faces—mothers, especially, whom he thanked for their invisible labor of raising children in a world saturated with temptation.

“Sunny Irakpo,” Ogbedebi had said, “is a courageous young man with strong passion and zeal, championing a worthy cause that has taken the lives of many promising youth in Nigeria, the United States, and across the globe. He is a trailblazer. A strong voice that keeps shaping policy direction.”

The audience had applauded, some wiping tears. They knew the statistics. They had buried nephews, cousins, sons.

Now, as Sunny continued his address, he moved from metaphor to mission.

“SILEC International Magazine is not just a publication,” he said. “It will drive awareness, create employment opportunities for young people, and support underprivileged students—particularly in Nigeria, where more than twenty million children remain out of school due to financial hardship.”

He paused, letting the number settle.

“Twenty million.”

A murmur rippled through the hall.

Sunny spoke of the vision conceived years ago, held in his heart like a pregnancy carried through contraction and pain. “When a child eventually escapes the womb, the mother leaps for joy,” he said. “Today, I stand in solidarity as a mother—not by pregnancy, but by conception of ideas that could help proffer solutions to the many problems confronting mankind. This is my joy: that baby SIM is birthed to the world today, in a country where dreams come through.”

He invoked Habakkuk 2:2—write the vision and make it plain—and reminded the gathering that a child’s raising belongs not only to its parents but to the entire community. “So it is for this newborn, named SIM,” he said. “I call for your collective nurturing.”

The statistics he shared were stark.

A United Nations report from 2025 stated that 316 million people worldwide were affected by drugs. Nearly half a million deaths annually. Twenty-eight million healthy years of life lost. In 2023, only one in twelve people with drug use disorders received any treatment.

In the United States, over one million people between the ages of eighteen and forty-five had died from drugs.

But it was Africa that Sunny named as the emerging frontline. “The new market,” he said quietly. “Seventy percent of young people. In Nigeria, according to UNODC, 14.4 million people aged fifteen to sixty-four abused drugs and substances as of 2018—significantly higher than the global average. Those aged eighteen to thirty-nine remain the worst users today.”

He did not shout. He did not need to. The numbers screamed for themselves.

Then came the moment the room had been waiting for.

The Chairman of the occasion, The Rt. Revd. Dr. Augustine Unuigbe—Coordinating Bishop of the Church of Nigeria North America Mission and Managing Director of Rapha Medical Group—rose from his seat. He was a tall man with gentle eyes and the steady hands of a physician.

“As a medical doctor,” Bishop Unuigbe said, stepping to the podium, “I have seen firsthand cases of drug overdose. I have watched young people slip away on hospital beds, their parents wailing in corridors. The drug problem and overdose deaths in the United States are underreported—for reasons I cannot ascertain. But time has come for the message to be louder.”

He turned to look directly at Sunny.

“My path and Sunny Irakpo crossed on social media,” the bishop continued. “I did not know Sunny from Adam. What brought us together is divine connection. In 2021, met him physically when the Primate of All Nigeria, the Most Rt. Dr. Henry Chukwudum Ndukuba, invited Sunny to present a paper at the Standing Committee meeting—the highest decision-making body of the Church of Nigeria, Anglican Communion. His presentation on ‘The Monster of Drug Addiction: A Battle for the Future’ was educative, revealing, and commendable.”

The bishop’s voice deepened. “My association and endorsement of SILEC Initiatives is based on the credible platform and the carrier of the message—Sunny Irakpo—who has shown serious commitment for nearly two decades. This young man deserves all the support and encouragement to propagate the message farther.”

He placed his hand on a tablet connected to a large screen. “I now unveil the SILEC International Magazine—electronically, with Artificial Intelligence tools for the campaign ideology—to the glory of God and benefit of humanity.”

The screen flickered to life. The magazine’s website appeared: crisp, modern, alive with stories. A video montage played—interviews with recovered addicts, profiles of resilient entrepreneurs, reports from Nigerian villages where schoolrooms stood empty. The audience watched in rapt silence.

Then they rose. They clapped. Some wept.

Dr. Inua Momodu, President of the Nigerian Community in Atlantic County, New Jersey, seized the moment. “Drug abuse affects almost every household,” he said. “Everyone must be involved in this fight to save the lives of young people. The Nigerian community under my leadership will continue to support SILEC Initiatives with effective collaboration.”

Distinguished guests nodded firmly from the front row. Besides, Angels In Motion ably represented by Laura Rhodes whispered to a colleague: We need to partner with them.

Before closing, Sunny Irakpo turned to the mothers in the room. It was, after all, their day.

“Dear mothers,” he said, “your roles in family and nation-building cannot be overemphasized. Sadly, in the cause of my advocacy, I have seen women deeply engaged in drug abuse and illicit trafficking. The most despicable act is using their most revered private parts to conceal drugs. One out of four females is now a drug abuser.”

The room grew very still.

“We urge our mothers to hold firm the values that help shape society. Tighten the home front. Help prevent our wards from this destructive path.”

He paused, and his voice softened.

“In loving memory, I remember today the sacrifices of my late parents—Pa Christopher Ewomarevia and Mrs. Victoria Adiheji Irakpo—for the value of education and godly parenting they implanted in me. They started this vision of SILEC with me in 2010. It pleased God that they did not witness this very important occasion. But I give God all the glory. May their kind souls continue to rest in peace.”

The ceremony ended with Reverend Ohio Simire offering the vote of thanks, followed by closing prayers from Bishop Unuigbe. As the crowd filed out into the New Jersey afternoon, phones buzzed with notifications—the live stream had reached thousands across three continents.

Outside, a young woman approached Sunny Irakpo. She was perhaps twenty-two, her eyes red-rimmed.

“My brother overdosed last year,” she said quietly. “He was nineteen.”

Sunny placed a hand on her shoulder. “Then we do this for him,” he said. “And for all the others.”

She nodded, and for the first time that day, she smiled.

Somewhere, a SIM card connects a phone to the world. And somewhere else, a newborn magazine called SIM began connecting broken stories to hope—one page, one life, one truth at a time. Oh, what a magazine you must get with just a click from your phone at www.sim.silecinitiatives.org.ng . SILEC is rising, SILEC International Magazine, the global light.

Article contributed by Kwame Jamal

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Opinion

When Architecture of Policy Meets Architecture of Connection

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By Shakirat Akintola

For many political observers, the proposition of an Atiku-Momodu ticket represents a fascinating answer to Nigeria’s complex governance puzzle. The conversation is rapidly moving past the two personalities involved, evolving into a broader debate about national cohesion, credibility, and the precise qualities required to steady a fractured nation.

Atiku Abubakar, having recently emerged as the presidential candidate for the African Democratic Congress (ADC) following a fiercely contested and highly scrutinized nationwide primary election, remains one of the most resilient figures in Nigeria’s democratic journey. His institutional memory is vast. As the Vice President who chaired the National Economic Council during one of Nigeria’s most consequential eras of economic restructuring and privatization, he understands the levers of state policy.

Yet, in a nation fractured along regional, religious, and generational lines, policy blueprints alone are no longer enough. The opposition faces a distinct hurdle: Nigerians already know who Atiku is. The challenge is not building recognition, but establishing a genuine, empathetic connection with the deep frustrations of the grassroots. This is precisely where Aare Dele Momodu enters the equation.

To view Momodu strictly through the glamorous lens of Ovation International is to misunderstand the deliberate philosophy behind his media empire. While critics might initially mistake his chronicling of high society for elite insulation, his career has actually functioned as a masterclass in breaking down walls. For decades, Momodu did not just document success; he demystified it, bringing the corridors of power and privilege directly to the gaze of the ordinary citizen. More importantly, this deep social capital was forged in the fires of grassroots defiance. Long before he was a celebrated publisher, Momodu was a pro-democracy activist who faced detention and forced exile during the dark days of the Abacha regime for standing with the masses. His ability to navigate corporate boardrooms today is not a sign of detachment from the struggle, but a powerful asset. It means the opposition gains a communicator who can walk into spaces of immense privilege, speak truth to power in their own language, and channel that access directly back into the service of Nigeria’s markets, classrooms, and farming communities.

A Referendum on Lived Realities

The ongoing security and economic trials illustrate exactly why a balance of institutional experience and cultural reach matters. For a parent deciding between school fees and healthcare, or a trader calculating the risks of interstate highways, governance is not a theoretical debate.

The next election will not be won by campaign slogans or aggressive social media strategies. It will be decided by trust. While the ruling party scrambles to convince a strained populace that their sacrifices will yield future rewards, the opposition must present a credible, steady, and comforting alternative.

Nigeria’s future will ultimately be shaped by leaders who look beyond political echo chambers and actively listen to the markets, classrooms, and farming communities. As the country continues its difficult search for stability, the political figures capable of building a bridge between sound policy and genuine human empathy will inevitably command the attention of a nation eager to move forward.

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Opinion

Why Dele Momodu May Be Atiku’s Smartest Running Mate Option Yet

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By Michael Abimboye

As the African Democratic Congress, ADC, gradually consolidates its coalition ahead of the 2027 presidential election, attention has inevitably shifted from the emergence of Atiku Abubakar as presidential candidate to the more delicate and strategic question of his running mate.

Several names have surfaced in political calculations and media speculation: Rotimi Amaechi, Emeka Ihedioha, and Dele Momodu, among them. Yet, beyond the noise of conventional political arithmetic lies a deeper electoral question: who among these options best expands Atiku’s coalition beyond traditional structures and into the modern political battlefield Nigeria has become?

Increasingly, the answer may well be Dele Momodu.

For years, Nigerian politics has operated under an outdated assumption that electoral victory is secured merely through governors, party leaders, and regional strongmen. The 2023 election disrupted that orthodoxy. The emergence of Peter Obi demonstrated that digital momentum, perception management, emotional resonance, and transregional appeal can significantly alter the political equation. Obi’s strongest weapon was not necessarily party structure. It was narrative dominance.

That reality has permanently changed Nigerian politics.

And in the current ADC coalition conversation, Dele Momodu may be one of the few figures who intuitively understands this new political environment.

Unlike many career politicians whose influence remains confined to state structures or elite caucuses, Momodu operates in multiple political ecosystems simultaneously: media, diplomacy, youth engagement, elite networking, pan-African influence, and digital communication. In modern electoral politics, that multidimensional relevance matters enormously.

One of Momodu’s most understated assets is his continental reach. Through decades of media work, political engagement, and elite interaction across Africa, he has cultivated relationships with presidents, former presidents, business leaders, diplomats, and intellectual figures across the continent. His network is not speculative mythology. It is publicly visible and historically documented through his long-running engagements as publisher of Ovation International and participant in high-level African political circles.

At a time when Nigeria seeks to reassert itself diplomatically and economically within Africa, such soft-power capital becomes politically valuable. A vice-presidential candidate today is no longer merely a ceremonial electoral appendage. He must also communicate competence, cosmopolitanism, and international legitimacy.

Momodu fits that profile more naturally than many conventional politicians. There is also the geographical intelligence behind his potential candidacy.

Though widely perceived nationally as a South-West figure because of his strong Yoruba cultural identity and media dominance in Lagos and the South-West, Dele Momodu is fundamentally from the South-South axis through his Edo roots. Politically, this creates a rare advantage. It allows the ADC to potentially tap into two strategic regions simultaneously without provoking the sharp regional anxieties that often accompany vice-presidential selections.

Amaechi, for instance, undoubtedly possesses political experience and administrative depth. But his polarising history in Rivers politics, coupled with his own presidential ambitions, complicates the chemistry required of a running mate. Indeed, reports have repeatedly suggested Amaechi has little interest in a vice-presidential role.

Ihedioha, meanwhile, brings stability and technocratic moderation, but lacks the national media visibility and emotional connection necessary for a fiercely competitive national election. Elections are not won only by competence. They are won by energy, narrative, symbolism, and visibility.
Dele Momodu possesses all four.

Then comes perhaps the most important factor of all: communication.

The 2027 election is unlikely to resemble previous Nigerian elections. It will be heavily digitised, media-driven, youth-influenced, and psychologically contested online. The political establishment still underestimates how profoundly social media has altered electoral mobilisation. The Obi movement in 2023 proved that online enthusiasm can shape national conversation, pressure traditional media, influence undecided voters, and energise urban youth demographics.

Momodu enters this terrain with an already established digital infrastructure.

Unlike many politicians who outsource communication to media aides, Dele Momodu himself is a communication institution. He understands headlines, optics, timing, public emotion, narrative construction, and audience psychology. His social media platforms command enormous engagement across demographics that traditional politicians often struggle to reach organically.

That matters.

In a coalition environment where ADC must unify disillusioned PDP voters, attract soft Obidients, retain Northern numerical strength, and penetrate urban youth constituencies, communication sophistication becomes central to survival.

Momodu also carries an outsider-insider advantage. He is politically experienced enough to understand power, yet sufficiently detached from the toxic baggage of conventional Nigerian political warfare. He has not governed a state, which critics may see as a weakness, but which supporters may frame as insulation from corruption controversies and governance fatigue associated with many old political actors.

In an anti-establishment electoral climate, that distinction could become useful.

Perhaps most importantly, Dele Momodu brings cultural elasticity. He can comfortably engage traditional rulers in Kano, intellectuals in Abuja, media elites in Lagos, young digital audiences in Port Harcourt, diaspora professionals in London, and political moderates in the South-East. Very few Nigerian political figures possess that adaptive national reach without appearing artificial.

And politics, ultimately, is the management of coalitions.

Atiku’s greatest challenge is not merely winning Northern votes. He already possesses substantial Northern recognition. His real challenge is rebuilding emotional trust across sections of Southern Nigeria while simultaneously energising younger demographics sceptical of establishment politics.

A conventional politician may help him consolidate structures.

Dele Momodu, however, may help Atiku reshape perception. And in modern politics, perception is often the first battlefield victory.

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