Tributes & Memories

A TRIBUTE TO MY FATHER, BABAA! I can’t believe I am writing this tribute in honour of my father, Babaa, as he was fondly called by many. He was larger than life, and it still feels unreal that his sojourn on earth is over. I had the privilege of knowing him for all of my life, learning from him, and being shaped by the man he was. My earliest memories of him are vivid: his baritone voice, asking if we had completed our homework the moment he returned from work. I remember sharing his dinners after work, and the trips to Adeniran Ogunsanya to buy suya or shop at UTC. He was an involved dad in the way he knew best. He stayed on top of our academics, ensured we were well-behaved, and balanced love with firmness. Some of my fondest memories are simple but unforgettable: • Our road trips to Ijebu-Ode and Gombe listening to Chapel concert tapes and Dupe Solana. • His wisdom and intellect: he was always full of wise counsel inspired by his own personal experiences and the bible. He was very intelligent, widely read and able to speak with confidence on almost any topic. • His outgoing personality: he was always attending events to support people, participating in charitable activities, visiting friends and relatives, and taking us along. That’s where I got my own love for going out and for nurturing relationships. • His philosophy: “Service your relationships. Don’t just reach out when you need something. Add value. Keep in touch.” • His singing voice, a deep and distinct baritone; I always wondered why he never joined the choir. • His commitment to the vulnerable: the disabled, widows, orphans. From CODISA to Cheshire Home to ANWAB, and our childhood visits to SOS Children’s Village. • His belief in our potential, especially his daughters. He encouraged us to shoot for the stars and gave us tools for independence: good education, driving lessons, computer school and the confidence that we could indeed achieve whatever we set our minds to. He believed I would get a First Class, and when I did, he was so proud. He was even prouder when I went to Harvard, wearing his “Harvard Dad” T-shirt until it was worn and old. • His worldview: there were only good people and bad people. He was truly detribalized. • His values: he was diligent, forthright, always humble, always kind and willing to go above and beyond for anyone who needed his help. • His love for God: He was deeply committed to the Chapel of the Healing Cross, the Anglican Diocese in Gombe and Abuja, Gideons International, Fellowship of Hope & Anchor, CODISA, Fountain of Hope, Youth Church at All Saints Abuja, among many others. Every year, he gave out copies of Our Daily Bread to family and friends, a simple but powerful way of encouraging those around him to walk closely with God. He wasn’t perfect, and while I may not have agreed with some of his approaches to life, he was a good man who left a good legacy. He always said, “So far I’ve satisfied God and my conscience; I have done my part.” That was his compass. Babaa lived fully, loved deeply, and gave generously. His impact and legacy are a testament to the fact that he lived well and died empty. I wish we had more time together, but I am grateful for each day we got to spend together. I will miss you sorely. From Jesutofunmi (or Professor, as you loved to call me)

FOR MY GRANDPA, BABAA! Babaa! I am happy you were my grandfather. I know you loved me so much, and even though you were always nervous about carrying newborns, you still picked me up when I was barely two weeks old because I was crying and you wanted to comfort me. I was very fond of you. Whenever you visited me in Canada, I always wanted you to clap and hold out your hand for me. I loved saying hello during our video calls, and seeing your smile always made me happy. I love you and miss you, Grandpa. From Oluwaseyifunmi Adeyemi

Tribute to My Beloved Father, “Babaa” On the morning of June 24th, 2026, I woke up with a heart overflowing with gratitude to God. After months of prayers, hope, and waiting, Babaa had been discharged from the hospital and had returned home—the very home we had just finished renovating for him. It felt like a miracle, and I remember thanking God for what seemed to be a beautiful new beginning. My prayer that morning was simple, yet deeply sincere: “Lord, You have glorified Yourself by healing Babaa and bringing him back home. Please glorify Your name again by restoring him to the fullness of health he had before Parkinson’s.” But in His infinite wisdom, it pleased God to call my father home that same day. The pain of that moment is difficult to put into words, yet I have found peace in knowing that it was God’s appointed time. Babaa had often made it clear that he did not wish to spend his old age in prolonged sickness or ill health. God, who knows the end from the beginning, granted him rest. As I reflect on my life, I realize how incredibly blessed I was to have had such an active, present, and intentional father. I remember being his little “Jamjam.” I remember him carrying me on his back and dancing around our living room, filling our home with laughter and joy. I remember him supervising my homework every single day without fail, setting routines for us, and teaching us discipline, responsibility, and consistency from a very young age. Babaa was never a distant father. He took me to and picked me up from my common entrance lessons every Saturday. He took me to boarding school and visited me regularly. He was always involved, always available, and always deeply interested in our growth and well-being. True to his nature, Babaa always had a plan. Right after secondary school, each of us was enrolled in computer lessons, driving school, and Anglican confirmation classes. At the time, it felt like another one of his carefully structured programs, but today I see the wisdom behind it. He was not merely raising children; he was preparing us for life. One of my fondest memories is how much joy it brought him when my siblings and I joined him for lunch or dinner. We would eat from his plate, and those simple moments became expressions of love, closeness, and family that I now treasure even more deeply. Babaa mentored all of us to be ambitious and to dream without limits. He never allowed gender, tribe, race, or culture to define what we could become. Seeing my natural love for art and mathematics, he encouraged me to consider architecture or engineering. That guidance eventually led me to study engineering, and from then on, he proudly called me his “professional colleague.” Whenever I compare notes with friends, I realize just how exceptional my father was, and I am grateful that my siblings and I did not wait until his passing to tell him so. We expressed our appreciation to him often. He took his responsibilities seriously. He made time for us. He was approachable. He listened. He guided. He cared. I am grateful for his discipline. Babaa believed that sparing the rod spoiled the child, and he did not shy away from correcting us when necessary. Yet his discipline was always wrapped in love. He was strict, but he was also warm, jovial, and deeply social. The same man who could use the cane to correct us was the man who took us to yearly picnics and beach parties with his friends - my sister and I earned the name "Olu's Angels" as we tagged along with him everywhere. He knew how to balance discipline with joy, structure with laughter. Babaa was also a master storyteller—a true gist pro. He could take the simplest story and tell it in such an engaging and hilarious way that everyone would stop to listen, and even the most serious person would burst into laughter. It is no surprise that he seemed to know people everywhere. Babaa had connections across all levels of society because he genuinely connected with people. He made others feel seen, valued, and welcome. People often say that you do not fully appreciate what you have until you lose it, and I now understand the depth of that truth. Reading the tributes from Babaa’s colleagues and hearing how he impacted people beyond our family has filled me with immense gratitude and pride. One of the qualities I admire most about him was his compassion. For nearly forty years, he was actively involved with the Lagos Cheshire Home, serving and supporting people living with disabilities. Many Sundays after church, we would go there with him to care for their needs. Later in retirement, he also served at the Cerebral Palsy Centre and with the Anglo-Nigeria Welfare Association for the Blind (ANWAB). Through his example, he taught us that true Christianity is not merely preached; it is lived through service, kindness, generosity, and sacrifice. Babaa was a selfless man. He gave generously to extended family, friends, and even strangers. He gave his time, his resources, his energy, and his heart. The Bible says that “whoever gives even a cup of cold water to one of these little ones in My name will certainly not lose their reward.” Jesus also welcomed those who served “the least of these” into His heavenly kingdom. As I reflect on Babaa’s life of quiet service and compassion, I hold on to the hope that his labour of love was seen and rewarded by God. I still struggle with the reality that I will not see him again on this side of eternity. I will not hear his voice, receive his advice, or hear him call me “Jamjam.” That loss is profound. Yet my consolation is that he is at peace—free from pain, and in a far better place. Babaa, thank you for your love. Thank you for your sacrifices. Thank you for your discipline. Thank you for your laughter. Thank you for your service. And thank you for believing in me long before I fully believed in myself. You ran your race with dignity, purpose, compassion, and faith. Rest well, Babaa. Until we meet again at the feet of our Lord and Saviour, Jesus Christ. Your daughter - Oluwatosin Olabenjo

Tribute to an Extraordinary Man I'm Blessed to Call My Father. I struggled to write this tribute because, somehow, putting these words on paper makes your passing feel painfully real. As long as I didn't write them, a part of me still hoped this was all a terrible dream. But today, I write not only with tears in my eyes but with profound gratitude to God for the incredible privilege of being your daughter. As your first child, I had the honour of giving you the name "Babaa"—a name that became part of your identity for the rest of your life. Growing up as your child was one of life's greatest blessings. Long before our only brother arrived, you proudly took your "girls" everywhere with you—even to your Old Boys' Association meetings. Your friends fondly nicknamed us "Olu and His Angels". At the time, I never fully understood why they called us that. Today, as a parent myself, I understand completely. You were never ashamed to be surrounded by your daughters. You celebrated us, cherished us, and made us feel like we were your greatest treasures. Babaa was never too busy to parent and never outsourced his responsibilities. He was intentional and present and was simply a good father and friend! Thank you for the beautiful childhood memories that I will treasure forever. For the regular “jam jam jigi jigi” - carrying us on your back around the sitting room until we laughed uncontrollably, for taking us on numerous outings that made us feel so special, for the countless “Ijapa “stories that filled our home with laughter and wisdom, for sitting with me over my schoolwork, for attending school events, for cheering me on in every season of my life. Thank you for giving me the greatest inheritance a father can leave his child—not wealth, but values. Thank you for instilling in me contentment, integrity, discipline, diligence, charity and excellence. These gifts are priceless, and they will remain with me for the rest of my life. From our earliest years, my father taught us that excellence was never accidental. He made us believe that there was nothing we could not accomplish if we were willing to work hard enough. He challenged us to set academic goals and celebrated every milestone with rewards that made us strive even harder. Looking back now, I realize those prizes were never really about the gifts—they were about teaching us discipline, perseverance, and the joy of achievement. Those lessons shaped the people we have become. You were a rare combination of tenderness and discipline. As children, we sometimes wondered why you insisted on doing things the right way every single time. Today, raising children of my own, I realize just how difficult it must have been to love us so deeply while refusing to compromise on discipline. You understood that real love prepares a child for life, not merely for comfort. Thank you for loving us enough to correct us and for shaping our character. You also taught us generosity—not merely by telling us to give, but by living a life of giving. You quietly helped people, often without recognition or expectation of anything in return. You consistently placed the needs of others before your own, sometimes even to your own detriment. I often told you that you gave too much, but that was simply your heart. Loving people came naturally to you. Babaa and I share many similarities. Our love for people, relentless pursuit of excellence, organizational skills, punctuality, bluntness among many others. My Dad also inspired my love for photography. For as long as I can remember, Babaa’s Canon cameras were always present at birthdays, family gatherings, celebrations, and every memorable occasion. Through your lens, you preserved our memories long before smartphones made photography commonplace. Little did I know that those moments were quietly nurturing in me a passion that I still carry today. My father lived a life that spoke louder than words. He served God faithfully and served humanity selflessly. Simplicity, humility, and contentment were his lifestyle while integrity was his reputation. He was a proud Nigerian who was completely detribalized. He never judged people by their tribe, language, status, or background. To him, people were simply people—worthy of dignity, respect, and kindness. On your 75th birthday earlier this year, I was supposed to give the vote of thanks over Zoom. To everyone's surprise—including mine—I suddenly broke down in uncontrollable tears. I couldn't explain why; it simply happened. When you passed away a few months later, I finally understood why. Perhaps my spirit already knew deep within me that it would be the last birthday we would celebrate with you on this side of eternity. I also want to express my appreciation to my incredible mother, Mamaa. Thank you for being the devoted wife and faithful helpmate every good man prays for. Thank you for standing beside Babaa through seasons of abundance and difficulty. Through joy and through pain, in sickness and in health. You loved him faithfully, cared for him sacrificially and remained by his side until he peacefully took his last breath. Babaa, your earthly journey has ended, but your influence never will. You live on in the values you planted and in every person whose life was made better because they encountered you. Though our hearts ache beyond words and your absence leaves a void that can never truly be filled, we do not grieve as those who have no hope. You loved Jesus and served Him faithfully. And because of that blessed assurance, I know this goodbye is not forever. I look forward to that glorious day when, by God's grace, we shall meet again at the feet of our Lord Jesus Christ, where there will be no more sickness, no more pain, no more tears, and no more goodbyes. Rest well, Babaa. You are deeply loved, forever honoured, and sorely missed. Love always and forever, Your first child, Nkechi Oluwaseun Olabisi Adelekan (Yeye Olu Omo 1 as you fondly called me)

Babaa was very nice and he used to speak to me very calmly in a way that I understood. I always enjoyed when he and Mamaa came and stayed at our house during the summer holidays and when we went out to eat at restaurants. I will miss him. Love Semilore. Babaa was very nice to me and he used to give me his phone so I could watch Youtube on it. Babaa and Mamaa used to come from Nigeria and stay at our house during the summer holidays. I enjoyed when we went to Niagara and the Chinese Restaurant. Babaa is in heaven now. I will miss him. Love Darasimi.

It’s my one and only Ambassador Extraordinaire Plenipotentiary. If anybody has a headache about it, let them go and drink paracetamol. This was our banter, my dear Babaa. Thank you, Daddy, for being such an intentional father. For the great childhood you gave us that was very special. For the culture of excellence and godliness you instilled in us — the one that made us stand out in many arenas as model, well‑behaved kids. The one that supported great goals and dreams regardless of our gender. We didn’t have to sneak off to drive the cars at home because driving school was lined up for us all right after secondary school; that, and confirmation classes. I remember always going with you in your car wherever you went, and it didn’t matter to me if I had to wait hours in the car while you went in for meetings, or I missed my friend coming to visit (back then there were no cellphones to call ahead); I was just happy and satisfied to go everywhere with my dad. I really miss you, Daddy. You gave me the confidence to drive at a young age, sat beside me, and encouraged me to make my first attempt on the highway. When, out of fear, I panicked and stopped in the middle of the highway and people impatiently honked, you encouraged me to stay calm, not mind any of it, and move only when I was comfortable. By the time we were returning from the wedding we were going to (again, me following you wherever you went), I was driving confidently on the highway. I miss all the wonderful memories — Yankari Game Reserve, our cross‑country trips, the Gombe and Abuja holidays, our UTC suya, Chicken George, and Zenith Water Margin restaurant treats. The swing set we eagerly looked forward to at the Ijebu‑Ode house. What a memorable childhood you gave us. I have also passed on the “jam jam jigi jigi” tradition to my kids. They love it, and I tell them each time that my dad used to do that for me and my siblings when we were kids. I am so proud of your legacy and grateful to be part of it. The way you touched and impacted lives everywhere you went. Your integrity was unmatched, and your de‑tribalized disposition toward people was very rare and precious. My heart for the less privileged — I get from you. I am indeed proud to be your daughter. I miss you, Babaa. Love — Your Ambassador Extraordinaire Plenipotentiary, Zainab.

A Tribute to Our Beloved Babaa Babaa was more than a father figure to our family. When we lost our father, he stood by us with love, wisdom, and unwavering support. He guided us through one of the most difficult times in our lives, always encouraging us to choose the right path, work hard, and never lose hope. His kindness, advice, and generosity helped shape who we are today. Though he was not our biological father, he loved and cared for us as his own, and for that we will always be grateful. While his passing has left a great void in our hearts, we find comfort in the legacy of love, strength, and wisdom he leaves behind. We will forever cherish the memories we shared and the lessons he taught us. May God grant Babaa eternal rest and continue to comfort everyone whose life he touched. He will always be remembered with love and gratitude.😭😭😭

Tribute to Babaa Engr. Olugbenga O. Olabenjo—our beloved Babaa—was a remarkable man whose warmth and intellect touched everyone privileged to know him. Ever cheerful and full of life, there was never a dull moment in his company. One of my fondest memories of him dates back to 1981, when he gave me my very first official driving lesson. I dare say I turned out to be a good driver—and I owe that first confidence behind the wheel to him. Beyond that, Babaa taught by example. He lived a life of selflessness and embodied the ideals of a truly detribalised Nigerian, relating with people without prejudice and embracing everyone with genuine kindness. He was a devoted husband and an exceptional father who was actively involved in the lives of his children, offering not only financial support but also his time, love, guidance, and unwavering presence. His compassion extended beyond his immediate family, as he was always willing to support the vulnerable and remained steadfast in his service to God and humanity. Family meant everything to Babaa. He treasured his family, Siblings, in-laws, friends, colleagues, and old schoolmates, and was a rallying point whose presence brought people together. He was, in every sense of the word, a good man. He also took immense pride in his heritage and delighted in reciting his oríkì. Listening to him over the years, I inadvertently learnt some of it: Sun re o! Omo wa mojo, ko jile gbe nofin. Omo Olumushin ano koru. Omo Afin Kenekene. O fi owo Afin m'oun r'Oba. Omo o fi orun sè.O fi orun sò. O fi igba àwo bu ọbẹ rọmọ je. Omo asa wan ki sha sha. Aki eni ti o sunwan gingi... May Almighty God grant you eternal rest. Sleep well, dear Babaa. O digba! Bukunola Ogunnusi (In-law) (Biola, Ore, Ola & Ife)

I was his good friend and I will miss you.An adviser to all that were close to him. God be with you and rest in peace.Amen.

TRIBUTE ON ENGR OLABENJO BY ENGR UGHEGHELE Remembering my Boss, My Brother, My Unforgettable Friend, My Senior Colleague, and My Mentor, Engineer Olugbenga Olabenjo, is the most memorable, but equally painful experience for me in recent times. When the news reached me, I found it difficult to believe because I wish he had lived longer. Our relationship transcended that of fellow engineers or mere office colleagues. He was our most revered senior, yet never treated me in particular as a subordinate in the office. He was a thorough, strict professional, yet accommodating and helpful person, all at the same time – a rare combination in humans. But our own Engineer Olabenjo possessed those qualities and even much more. He was a complete family man, who displayed the brotherly quality beyond his own nuclear and extended family. I can proudly say that he took me as one of his own brothers from the same womb. He was a complete gentleman by all standards and a full-blooded civilized man. I recall with utmost nostalgia and deep joy how my boss would bring all his children in the car and drive all the way from his place in Surulere to my Akowonjo Area of Lagos to visit me and family. Many times, I remember how we looked for his children and mine under tables and close places where they would have played and tired out sleeping after their regular visits to my place. I believe that it was always like a picnic for the children on both sides. We, too, visited them regularly. Engineer Olabenjo was the most detribalized man I have ever known. He did not only display that trait in the office and his relationship in general terms with other Nigerians, he put it in practice even in his home. His children were given transcultural names. His first born was given Nkechi, now a doctor, while others had Hausa and other names to reflect his pan-Nigerian belief in unity and strong interethnic bond. Engineer Olabenjo received the best education available in this world, being a graduate of Engineering from the Ahmadu Bello University and obtained his Master’s Degree from Imperial College, London. A space of this nature is absolutely inadequate to pay deserving tribute to such a great man and patriotic Nigerian as our late Boss, who was an outstanding professional colleague, family man, and unforgettable friend. My prayer is for God in His infinite mercies to watch over the family he left behind and for his generations to live according to Engineer Olaninjo’s admirable codes. Adieu Great Man! Engr. Godwin Ugheghele.