Obasanjo ruled household with an iron fist

In February 1978, the Ali-must-go crisis in the education sector broke out with university students demanding the resignation of Lt Col Ahmadu Ali, then federal commissioner for education, over a controversial policy to increase feeding cost in the universities.

Following an intelligence tip-off that students planned to abduct Iyabo and compel her to join the students’ demonstration against the Obasanjo government in February 1978, the father decided to bring Iyabo home and deny students any such morale booster. When the dust settled, she returned to school.

Shortly after, following the term break, I went to pick her from school on a Friday. On reaching home, Iyabo could not produce her report card and the father had concluded she must have hidden it having failed.

Her explanations that she put it in her bag and it may have fallen off did not cut any ice with him as he added that he was already receiving unfavourable reports about her in school.

Report card

I then offered to go back to the school with her on Monday to obtain the report. As fate would have it the report card was found on the lawn where it had dropped. It was intact as it hadn’t rained that weekend. She did well. She placed third. The father’s fears were assuaged and he wished her more energy to her elbows.

I did not pay any serious attention to Obasanjo’s charge that Iyabo was courting bad company until I returned unexpectedly with the children to Dodan Barracks one day. As I headed towards the main house, one Mrs Alo was coming out of the General’s room. She was the vice-principal of Queen’s College, Yaba, where Iyabo had just enrolled as a first former. I wondered if she too had caught the bug of women attracted to Obasanjo. It then occurred to me that the vice-principal may have been one of those fibbing about Iyabo to get the father’s attention.

Iyabo’s eyes opened wide many years later when she was home from the University of Ibadan in the ‘80s and we had both visited Obasanjo at Ota farm. There, we saw Mrs Alo, her former vice-principal, by the father’s swimming pool, sparsely dressed. Iyabo was infuriated and ordered her to leave. The woman stood her grounds. The situation was tense.

Obasanjo, who was holding a meeting with some traditional rulers, on hearing the noise, begged one of them to allow Mrs Alo leave in his car. On our way out of the farm, Iyabo, apparently acting on a hunch, decided to stop at her father’s office, saying she wanted to pick some documents. There, we found Mrs Alo, hiding to allow us leave Ota so she could return to the pool to continue with her mission to Ota. Iyabo lunged at her, calling her a hypocrite, who taught students what she did not practise. I had to restrain Iyabo from beating her up.

I remember another event. While Obasanjo was Head of State, living at Dodan Barracks, I kept my accommodation at Lawrence Road.

One day as Easter of 1979 approached, Obasanjo sent for me, saying he wanted the family to spend Easter in Abeokuta. That meant I was to bring the children to Abeokuta on Good Friday. He arrived there before us, on Thursday.

On Saturday morning, my children woke me up to see an interesting scene in the compound. There was a large cow tied to a stake. There was also a fetish doctor reciting incantations on the cow. Suddenly, the beast collapsed and died. Its throat was slashed and cooks from Dodan Barracks prepared dishes from the slain cow to be served to guests on Sunday.

On Sunday, we had our breakfast and Obasanjo did not join us at table. Before the party, Mrs Soleye, his friend’s wife, came to the house with prepared dishes of all sorts and tastes. Someone wondered why Mrs Soleye was bringing in extra food when there was more than enough from the slaughtered cow. My sixth sense put me on guard.

Life after Dodan Barracks

It rained cats and dogs the day Obasanjo handed over to Shagari at the Race Course, Onikan, Lagos, October 1, 1979.
He asked me to move to Abeokuta with him but I declined because of his extra-marital indiscipline.

As an enterprising woman, I occupied myself with how to make ends meet, without depending on Obasanjo for everything. When President Shehu Shagari introduced import licence, I applied to import frozen meat. I forwarded my papers to the Ministry of Commerce and completed all the necessary conditions.

Finance was the only thing outstanding. So I approached Chief MKO Abiola, who had become a close family friend, notwithstanding the poor treatment he meted out to me during Enitan’s pregnancy.

He recommended me to the United Bank of Africa. Alhaji Umaru Muttalab, a former federal commissioner, was the managing director.

Also in the bank, that day was Gbolade Adewusi, Obasanjo’s classmate to whom he gave my Volvo car after removing me from the company we both formed.

His sight angered me as I had come to associate him with bad luck. So I started to abuse him. He went to inform Obasanjo of my mission at the bank.

Obasanjo went to the Alake of Egbaland, Oba Oyebade Lipede, to report that Chief Abiola was interfering in his affairs. He wanted Alake to instruct Abiola to withdraw his recommendation to the bank.

Alake duly briefed Chief Abiola who said Obasanjo was being petty and should allow me to forge ahead. When Obasanjo was unrelenting, Chief Abiola finally backed out. I lost the licence, broke down in health — depressed, disoriented and in despair. I temporarily lost faith in God, wondering why He allowed misfortune to dog my footsteps.

After the incident, I decided to leave the government flat at Ikoyi. So I went to Obasanjo to provide accommodation for me. He said he had two bungalows in Government Reserved Area Ikeja and gave me a note to one Chief Angus Ilozue, chairman of Angus Construction, who was caretaker of the properties, to allocate one to me.

Obasanjo’s instructions

I found my way to Oduduwa Crescent, Ikeja. Chief Ilozue gave me some keys to the house. I later found out that he had not given me all the keys, as I could not enter some of the rooms. So I returned to him to ask for the remaining keys. He refused, saying he was acting on Obasanjo’s instructions.

I left, determined to assert myself. So, I called my driver to get me a carpenter. I got him to change all the keys to the house. I then brought my children from Lawrence Road to Ikeja.

I began to rebuild my life again. I was preoccupied more with how to raise my children to be good citizens and properly educated to hold their own anywhere in the world.

Obasanjo kept his distance; so much that he was surprised to see how grown his children had been when he attended the wedding of one of the Sodeinde sisters, Sade, who had lived with us since the 1966 coup. This was at Ibadan in the ‘80s.
My son, Olusegun, was one of the ushers. Obasanjo arrived and was received by his son. He marvelled at how his son had grown. Before he left, he sent for me and was short of words to apologise.

His action confused me. As I pondered on his unpredictability, I recalled my experience after he edged me out of the shoe manufacturing business and gave my Volvo car to Adewusi. I had bought a Mercedes Benz car as replacement from the five years’ rent that Hans Meir Limited, a German company, paid for my property at Ilupeju, Lagos.

I was very liquid and was not sure what to do with the cash. During a visit to Dodan Barracks I told Obasanjo about the development and he advised me to go into poultry business. I told him I had no land for such a project; he volunteered to give provide his land on Aiyetoro Road, Abeokuta. He called Alhaji Adenekan, who held the land in trust for him, and informed him that I would visit Abeokuta to inspect the plot.

Moved project

Eventually, I met Adenekan at Abeokuta and he took me to the place. Adenekan, however, told me that I could not run a poultry as the state did not allow such a business there. I did not argue with him.

On my return to Lagos, I bought 5,000 birds and started the poultry from Dodan Barracks. I later moved the project to Abeokuta after clearing and developing the land and obtaining the necessary approval.

I devoted considerable time to breeding broilers and other types, sharing beats between taking my children to school in Lagos and running the farm at Abeokuta. It was hectic but I enjoyed it. I bought planks, barbed wires and other building materials to erect structures. The business thrived. Obasanjo, too, took time to visit the farm; he was impressed and praised my efforts. But later, I found out that he really used me to get his land from Adenekan.

Obasanjo did not forgive me that I did not live with him in Abeokuta. He stopped taking care of the children, probably thinking I had a lot of money. He only sent N400 a month. Iyabo and Busola were at Queen’s College, Lagos; Segun was at King’s College. I was torn between raising my children and running the farm.

Sometime in 1981, Gbenga and Enitan were due to return to school at Corona after the long break. When the school fees were not forthcoming from their father, I went to late Simbiat Abiola for assistance. She prayed that God would help. I later sold off my gold bangles to Alhaja Abdulrazaq, a jeweller, to raise the fees.

Topsy-turvy relationship

My topsy-turvy relationship with Obasanjo continued. He would drive past Oduduwa Crescent without checking on his children, who were progressing in education. Soon after, he started visiting frequently.

He was behaving like a good person and our love was rekindled. In no time he put me in the family way.

The good time with Obasanjo was short-lived. He became unreliable again, concerned only with his interests.

In 1983, I made up my mind that it was better I relocated the poultry business from Abeokuta to Lagos so that I could conserve my energy in one place. I transferred Gbenga and Enitan from Corona, Victoria Island to Corona, Gbagada. By this time, Obasanjo had inched his way into the poultry farm and was claiming it as his own. I decided to remove my birds and other items from the land.

One Friday, I went to the farm with two lorries; I was in one while Sina, my brother, was in the other. We removed the birds and left for Lagos. Sina arrived in Lagos without any hitch. Not me. When I reached Lafenwa Roundabout at Abeokuta, I was stopped by Mr Kosemani. He told the police to arrest me because I had stolen Obasanjo’s birds. I made great fuss before the police could arrest me. People gathered to watch the spectacle.

While this was going on, an old woman urged the crowd to leave Kosemani alone as anyone who allowed his head to be used in cracking a coconut never ate of it. I was clamped in jail at Lafenwa Police Station.

I was placed behind the counter at the police station, where I had been stripped to my underwear. Obasanjo left his place at Ota for my Oduduwa Crescent residence in Lagos to retrieve the poultry products with Sina. While I was at the Lafenwa Police Station, he threatened Sina that “you know how Malomo (my younger brother) died, I killed him; I will kill you too.” Satisfied, he came to Abeokuta where he directed that I should be taken to court the following Monday.

When the DPO arrived, he asked me to dress up. I told him I was only acting on police instructions. Chief Olanrewaju and Chief Niyi Adegbenro visited me at the station, pleading with me that I should go home. Both had visited Obasanjo at home in Abeokuta to tell him what he did was wrong. It was he who directed them to come to me at the station.

Bad news travels fast. Simbiat Abiola waded in; she brought her elder sister and offered to bail me. I refused, opting to sleep in jail as Kosemani had directed.

I spent the night in police cell, a guest of mosquitoes. As I spent the night in cell, Stella phoned my children at Oduduwa that their mother would not be coming home because she stole birds.

On Saturday, Mrs Abiola took me away. Twenty-two days exactly after that disgraceful episode, Kosemani died in a car accident. The old woman’s words came to mind.

Obasanjo used to baffle me at times in his actions. When I would think that our differences were irreconcilable I would overnight find a reasonable Obasanjo.

In 1984, shortly before my niece, Foluke Akinlawon (Bro Akintunde Akinlawon’s daughter) wedded; Obasanjo phoned that he wanted to visit with somebody. He did not tell me who. He later showed up with Stella at my Oduduwa Crescent residence. His opening words were: “I don’t want you to narrate any story. I just want you to settle the quarrel.” Turning to Stella, he asked if she had anything to say. She said no. Then he turned to me.

“Mama Iyabo, do you have anything to say?” I knelt down, mockingly saying, “Emperor and Empress, this position of yours is awesome o. I beg you in the name of God, let me live in this country o.”

Obasanjo turned to Stella, “I brought you here to beg Mama Iyabo and you are putting up an attitude. That is why she is talking like this.”

Then I screamed at them, “Both of you are not well... I am busy with something important, my niece’s wedding and you come here to disturb me. Get out of my house.” Stella went on her knees, holding my legs and begging me to forgive her. Obasanjo went out, asking us to settle our rift.

I told Stella: “If I have to choose between Obasanjo and money I would take the money because he is useless. If he is a good man, I won’t leave him for you. I had taken the better part of him. If he dies tomorrow, I would give you his stomach, which is full of water. But I will keep his arms and legs as they were useful when I knew him. I wish you good luck.”
They invited me to stay at their house in Abeokuta in April and I did.

Again, sometime in 1985, without any prompting, he kept harassing me with telephone calls that I should attend a family meeting at Ota because of my position and status in his home. It was a Saturday.

When I got there, I saw many women there. It turned out they were those who had children for him out of wedlock. He was affable and amiable with me, cracking jokes. Then he went straight into the subject of the day. “Ladies, I want to introduce my wife to you. I thought it was time I did because I would want the hierarchy to be properly recognised. This is my wife,” he said motioning to me. “Please introduce yourselves and give the names of your children.” It looked like a circus to me as the women started to comply with his directive. It was while this was going on that Taiwo Martins joined us.

The women there included Stella, Gold Oruh, Mabel and Titi. When it came to Stella’s turn, she gave her son’s name as “Olu.” Obasanjo interjected: “Your son’s name is Muyiwa.” She persisted, “My son’s name is Olu.” It became an argument between them. Some of Obasanjo’s friends call him “Olu.” So I think he wanted to make that distinction. I understood the game as Stella’s vanity. In my husband’s family their names usually start with “Olu,” so the plan to appropriate that name to one son was silly.

One woman who made an impression on me was Titi. She curtsied, saying: “Madam, I know we have wronged you. I want to put myself in your position as a wife. I would also have been angry about what we have done. Please forgive us.”
Obasanjo really changed his attitude to me after that day; he consulted me on many issues of the family until somebody turned the screw again and monopolised his attention.

UN Secretary General

It was not out of malice that I opposed his bid for the United Nations Secretary General post. I acted to save Africa and the black man of ridicule. Obasanjo’s competence was not the issue but Stella’s style. He had her around him as his showpiece and I didn’t think she would give him the type of support needed for that job.

I learnt all about the United Nations and its Secretary General during the immediate post-independence civil conflicts in Congo Leopoldville because Obasanjo was there.

I heard of how Mr Dag Hammarskjöld, the Secretary General, died in an air crash in Ndola. He was the second to die in conflict. His predecessor also died in the Korean conflict. After him came the Burmese, U Thant.

Many others have followed until this day. While in office, as expert diplomats, they kept their families at the backstage. It is not a job for film stars and publicity-seeking families. See how the obscure connection to Kojo, Kofi Annan’s son by Titi Annan (nee Alakija) stretched the credibility of the hardworking, world’s leading civil servant.

The post of Secretary General demands 24 hours’ commitment. Certainly, that position is not for a polygamist with a spouse who would be competing with him to hug the limelight. I did not want my husband to mar the chances of future aspiring Africans for the revered position.

© Diamond Publicationsa Ltd, Lagos