By Sen. Tolu Odebiyi, CON
As I process the devastating news of Segun Awolowo’s passing, I’m compelled to step back across five decades to truly frame what he meant in my life. Our bond didn’t begin with us—it started with our families. My late father, Chief Jonathan Odebiyi, and his grandfather, Chief Obafemi Awolowo, were long-standing associates. That relationship pulled our own paths together, year after year, every 26th of December in Ikenne, Ogun State.
Segun was consistently the same person—boisterous, full of life, brilliant, gentlemanly and unmistakably warm. Papa held him in rare affection, and it showed. Neither of us knew we would later find ourselves as students at Government College Ibadan, yet our connection only deepened there. Segun, impeccably dressed as always, would start his day at Powell House just to see me. We weren’t just friends; we were alter egos. We pushed each other, competed in healthy ways, and rooted for each other without compromise.
Speaking about him in the past tense feels unreal. We shared a political trajectory, and I often looked at him as having a stronger springboard. We carried the weight of legacy—expectations that were almost impossible to fully satisfy. As an Awolowo, he bore that burden more intensely than most. The expectations were massive, and at times they punctured his self-confidence. But when he found his footing on the national stage, he soared.
He was passionate about service. He believed deeply that he was walking in the mold of his grandfather—committed to building a legacy anchored in national transformation. His work on economic diversification wasn’t just policy; it was a mission. His “non-oil economy” mantra became a national conversation because he willed it into relevance.
When I became a Senator, nobody celebrated me more fiercely than Segun. He called repeatedly—encouraging me, coaching me, giving me a playbook for surviving the complexities of federal politics. When whispers emerged about my consideration for the Ogun governorship, he carried his own quiet hopes for me.
We were both intentional about our pedigree. We protected our names. We protected our values. And Segun lived those values—exceptionally. Privileged, yet humble. Grounded. Family-focused. God-fearing. His devotion to his mother was profound, and he cared for her with uncommon commitment.
Losing Segun feels like losing a part of myself. Our last conversation—October 9th—now sits heavy in my memory. I never imagined it would be the final chapter.
To Aunty, God will comfort, heal and bring joy into your life again, while keeping alive his memory.
To Bola, Seun, Yimika, Segun, and the grandchildren—my heart is with you. This pain is immense, but our faith assures us that God comforts the brokenhearted and upholds those left behind. My prayer is that His presence never departs from your home, and that He fills this void with peace, joy, and renewed strength.
To all his brothers Jide Onalaja, Bimbo Ashiru etc. friends, and peers—may the memories of Segun’s joy, energy, and generosity never fade. And may his legacy—of pushing Nigeria toward true diversification and a non-oil economic future—become a reality in our lifetime.
Segun was exceptional. And his absence will echo for a long time.
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