By Raheem Akingbolu
Ekiti is my own ‘Jerusalem’ and I always appreciate my creator for designing it so. I cherish my state, passionate about its development and love my people. But in recent time, I begin to hate our politics.
Can’t we involve in politics without dragging ourselves in the mud? Can’t we play politics without character assassination?
Can’t we separate the game of politics from family and apply necessary rules?
Overtime, some players in Ekiti field of politics have consistently resorted to blackmail and insulting elders while promoting their preferred candidates, forgetting that the game is all about interest -sooner or later, their principals will realign and leave them in the cold.
The latest of such vituperation was the resent salvo fired by an aide of Gov. Fayose to ridicule Sen. Ojudu.
Either we like it or not, the two are among our shining stars and leaders in the current dispensation. Eni to ba tara ile e lopo, ko nii rii ra lowon.
I laughed when I read what was credited to the said aide that Sen. Ojudu didn’t take care of his late father while alive.
I don’t have any personal relationship with the senator but I think it is high time we started doing away with such pettiness.
Years ago, when the late Mrs. Bimpe Sorinolu (Gov Fayose’s younger sister)granted about 9 pages interview in a Magazine to ridicule his brother, then a sitting governor, I was one of the few who condemned any attempt by some individuals to make issues out of it.
To me, it was their family affair. Again, when the news of Fayose’s strain relationship with his late father became a major issue among the Ekitis, I refused to join the bandwagon.
I believed it was still their family business.
Back to Ojudu.
I once had a chance meeting with his late father years back in Ado Ekiti.
I have gone to the state capital to visit my younger brother, a lawyer, who then headed Femi Falana’s law chamber in the state capital.
In the morning, we went for early morning prayer in a community mosque and after the obligatory salat, the Imam introduced my brother to the congregation as a lawyer in Falana’s office.
As we sauntered out of the small building, I noticed an old man, who tried to engage us in discussion.
He faced my brother and told him with all enthusiasm that he knew his boss and that he was a friend to his own son - Femi Ojudu.
He told us how both of them used to visit him in Ado while they were in Ife as undergraduates.
The old man became more positively charged when my brother introduced me as journalist.
He insistedwe knew his house – a stone throw from the mosque.
He told us how much he loved his son, how that loved started from the day he was born and that it informed the name Babafemi, he shared with us how he almost died of depression when Babafemi was incarcerated by the Abacha junta.
He shared with us how his son used to take care of him and how he (Femi Ojudu) used to doll out money to people in the area anytime he came home before Abacha did the worst.
To cap it up, Baba joyfully showed to us the picture he took with Asiwaju Tinubu, when he was performing the holy pilgrimage in Mecca on the bill of his dear son.
To now read or listen to a beer parlour version of the story make me feel bad. Let’s us respect our elders and deal with issues instead of attacking personalities.