Punch
Idowu Sobowale, a retired professor of journalism at the Lagos State University, served as special adviser on education to a former Lagos State Governor, the late Alhaji Lateef Jakande, and was also Commissioner for Education in the Asiwaju Bola Tinubu administration. He shares his life and times with ALEXANDER OKERE
You were born in Ashipa near Abeokuta, Ogun State, before independence. Were you told whether your birth was registered?
My birth was not officially registered. As of that time, my father kept a diary of births, so my name was registered in the diary.
You were said to have been born to a peasant farmer and a petty trader. What kind of parents were they?
My dad was a very stern disciplinarian, but loving.
And did that play a role in the relationship among his children?
I think I will say yes. Again, one interesting thing was that we were not together for too long. One of my siblings went to Yobe State to live with an uncle of ours, then another one was a mechanic; that was the one that made me want to become a mechanic.
How many children did your father have?
My father had 11 children – seven males and four females. He had four wives and three of them had children for him.
What was it like growing up in a polygamous family?
I keep saying that my father’s family was unique and I mean that in every sense. The relationship among my father’s wives was something else but their relationship never affected the children. When there was anything to be done in the family, whoever got there first would take the decision on behalf of the rest of us and that was it. After I started work, I was always taking such decisions on their behalf. My elder ones did the same when I travelled out of the country.
Did you become an apprentice mechanic?
I didn’t become one. One evening, my father and I were on his farm; my father had a large farm in our village at Asipa. He also had a cocoa plantation in the Ifo Local Government Area of Ogun State, so he was always shuttling between the two. One day, he was preparing to go to the cocoa plantation. He apportioned an area of the farm to me to weed before his return. But I told him I was going to the town to learn to become a mechanic. He asked me to repeat what I said and when I did, he was stunned because he knew me as an obedient child and loved me very much, so he never expected me to say that. He stood speechless for about four minutes and told me to follow him back to the village; that was how we ended that evening’s work.
When we got home, he told my mother what I had told him. My mother tried to make me deny that I said so but I refused. Later in the evening when other members of the family returned, a meeting was convened and my father told them what I said. Given the respect we had for our father and how we feared him, it was not normal for me to have said that. I told them that if they compelled me to withdraw what I said, I would run away from the village.
How old were you as of that time?
I was 13. At that time, the Ileya festival was approaching and it was one festival that brought all members of the family together in Abeokuta. I was advised to exercise some patience before leaving so we could discuss my decision and find out where I would learn the vocation. At that point, my joy knew no end. Everybody came for the festival and on the following day, a larger meeting was convened and they said since I wanted to become a mechanic, it was important for me to go to school so that I could be literate and be able to understand my boss’ instructions. So, the option for me was to go to Lagos with my brother who left Abeokuta Grammar School about a year before. We came to Lagos and went round all the schools in the Ebute Metta area but none agreed to enroll me. They said I was too old for Class One.
At the last place we went to, which was St. Peter’s UNA (Primary School), somebody told my brother that the teacher who handled Class II would conduct an entrance examination for pupils who wanted to take a transfer from other schools. We went to the teacher’s class and he told us to come for the examination. I was given a pencil and a piece of paper and we were told to begin the exam. I can’t remember what was written on the blackboard but what I will remember until I die is that I didn’t know how to hold a pencil. So, somebody had to show me (how to use it) and when I put pencil to paper, I was just drawing lines. Later in the evening, the only thing the man said was that my brother should not bother himself because I was not a ‘school material’ at all, that I didn’t know anything.
What did your brother say?
My brother said I had gone to school in the village and that I might have been frightened by the change of environment. In what turned out to be a prophetic statement, he assured the man that if he admitted me, I would do well. The man agreed and as of that time, we paid 15 shillings per term. I joined the class three days later and was paired with a tiny boy; Olanrewaju Samuel was his name. I have been looking for that boy for ages; I hope he is still alive. That boy was a genius; whatever assignment or exam we had, he would finish his own in no time and finish mine before the time was up. So, whatever mark he got, I got. But the teacher noticed I couldn’t have performed that well on my own, so he took me away from the boy and paired me with a girl. Nobody was near Olanrewaju’s brightness but the girl was far better than me because I didn’t even know anything. Everything I had done as of that time was by the grace of God and Olanrewaju. The girl wasn’t fast enough to assist me but she allowed me to spy on what she was doing. Later, the teacher paired me with someone who was much older than I was and could not even write an O with the bottom of a bottle. So, rather than me spying on him, he spied on me.
One of the traits I exhibited was that I was desirous of learning. In those days, the bolekajas and buses that plied the roads had various inscriptions on them, many of them were in Yoruba and some were in English, but I struggled to read them. But when the term ended, pupils were assembled in a hall where the examination results were announced and the three best pupils got prizes. When it got to the turn of our class, Olanrewaju Samuel came first, followed by a female pupil and then Ramoni Sobowale – that was my Muslim name as of that time – was announced as the third person.
How did that make you feel?
When my name was called I took only two steps from the hall and landed in the middle of Herbert Macaulay Road. Another two or three steps landed me in the middle of Oyingbo market. Up till this moment, I can’t account for how I got home. It was a senior pupil , Ajayi Aina, who collected my prize and brought it home for me.
Why was that?
I couldn’t believe that I could take the third position in the class. But as a result of my performances my teacher in Primary Six, during the second term, wrote on my report card advising my parents to encourage me further.
You didn’t get a formal education until you were 13. How did you feel when you were enrolled?
First, I didn’t know whether I was too big or small, except when we were told that I was too old for Class I. I would say I had a mixed feeling. I was never excited because I was interested in becoming a mechanic. But my elder brother warned me that if I failed at school, it would be the end of my education. That spurred on me into wanting to learn at all costs. As a result of my performance, my brother advised me to apply for admission into secondary school. I took forms for four schools, took the entrance examinations and passed all of them. Eventually, he chose Baptist Academy for me; my own choice was Molusi College (Ijebu Igbo) for an ulterior motive.
Would you like to talk about it?
On the day I went for the exam-cum-interview at Molusi College, I stayed in the house of a family that was living in our house then at Moshalashi Bus Stop on Agege Motor Road. I met a beautiful lady who was the sister to the wife of the tenant, so we got talking and got attracted to each other. When I passed the exam, I paid a deposit of five pounds, which was a big amount in those days. Later, the lady wrote a letter to me. The letter landed in my brother’s hand and he kept it. When all the examination results were in, he called me one day and asked me to choose which of the schools I would like to go to. I chose Molusi College; of course, I had the girl in mind. When he asked me why I chose the school, I told him pupils were properly taught there. When he asked me if I had been there before to know how the pupils were taught, I said no. But I told him a brother of the tenant was a student there and that he was always neatly dressed. I gave all those flimsy reasons.
My brother later reached into his pocket and gave me the letter the lady wrote to me. When I looked at it, I didn’t like myself for lying. He said I wanted to go to the school because of the lady and I denied it. He then said I would go to Baptist Academy; that was how I attended Baptist Academy. I wasn’t quite a champion as I was at St. Peter’s UNA Primary School but I was not among the last 10 pupils in class.
You worked with Daily Times Nigeria even before getting tertiary education, having been among the first students of Daily Times Training Institute. Was becoming a journalist your original dream?
When I graduated from Baptist Academy, I just went straight to Daily Times; I got a job there through the influence of Chief Bisi Onabanjo, who was the Managing Director and Editor-in-Chief of Daily Express. When I went to secondary school, I had no dream of what I wanted to become. But when I was in Class One, there was a senior pupil, Ajibade Thomas, who is now in the United States of American. He used to report events for the school using foolscap sheets and pasted on notice boards. So, I was always going to read and I became fascinated with that. When he left school, there was nobody to play that role, so I just stepped in. That was where I got my pen name, Constant Show.
As a matter of fact, I got a job at the Lagos City Council as a health inspector. So, I went to school on that day for something and I saw some of my seniors who left school a year or two before then. They said they were going to see Chief Bisi Onabanjo and I just decided to follow them. I was to leave school and go back to Lagos City Council to resume my work there but I just decided to follow them because Onabanjo had just been released from detention for treasonable felony that the late Chief (Obafemi) Awolowo, the late (Chief Lateef) Jakande and some other people were sent to jail for. He (Onabanjo) was discharged and acquitted. When we wanted to leave, he asked each of us where we were and what we were doing. I told him I was at Lagos City Council but I wanted to be a journalist because I had been reporting when I was in school. I told him I wanted to join him at City Express but he told me the paper was dead. He said he had a friend, Alhaji (Babatunde) Jose, that was running Daily Times and was going to start a training school as of that time. He later gave me a note to give to Alhaji Babatunde Jose, and instead of going to Lagos City Council, I went straight to Daily Times. When Alhaji Jose got the note he said, “Ah, my friend.” He just wrote something on the note and told me to take it to one Mr Leslie Riley who had just come to Nigeria to start the Daily Times training school. So, I was one of the first 10 students of the school. I later restructured the school as a lecturer into Times Journalism Institute under the leadership of Chief Segun Osoba, who had been my deputy editor while I was editor in the same newspaper.
In 1975, you left Daily Times to join your alma mater, University of Lagos, as an assistant lecturer. Did you lose interest in being in a newsroom?
Well, I did not. I left because I thought I was cheated. In the first instance, as the Assistant Editor of Daily Times, the total emolument I got for that position was not up to the car allowance of my Editor, Chief Are Oyebola of blessed memory. It was also not up to the car allowance of the Editor of Sunday Times, Gbolabo Ogunsanwo, who at best should have been on a par with me. But Daily Times being the mother of all the publications, I was given the impression that I was senior to him. But I earned far less than any of them. So, I went to the man in charge of the newspaper division to complain that I wasn’t being treated right. He said he knew and that he did not approve the amount my editor approved for me. I asked him why, especially since I had a wife, four children, three of whom were in school, and with so many Christmases in life. He said, “So many Christmases with Daily Times?” I just burst into laughter and left.
What did you do next?
I did not go back to my office. I went straight to UNILAG to see a UNESCO expert, Mr Richard Aspinall, who had come to set up the broadcast section of the Department of Mass Communication, which was intended to serve the whole of West Africa, to train broadcast journalists in West Africa. He was the acting head of the department then and I just told him I wanted to come back to teach. Incidentally, I got the best result in my class with so many prizes. He said the university could not pay me the salary I received as an assistant editor. But I told him salary was not the reason I wanted to leave. I said I was leaving the newspaper because I wanted to serve a larger population of people. Later he agreed and asked me whether I wanted to resume immediately. But I said I needed a month; I was producing the front and back (pages) of Daily Times and I was copy-pasting for the sub-editors. So, he told me to put in an application and I wrote the application there and then.
Is it true that you got your master’s and PhD degrees from Syracuse University, USA, in three years?
Yes. I went to the university in 1975 and returned in 1978. Some of my colleagues who were in the same class with me didn’t finish until about five years after I had returned. But I had a peculiar situation.
Did people doubt the authenticity of your PhD degree?
No, they did not because I got a two-year permission to travel abroad for training with full payment. But I got my master’s in one year and in that one year, I combined it with my PhD programme. As of matter of fact, when I finished my master’s I had just one course left to complete the 90 hours of the PhD programme.
You served as a special adviser on Education to a former Governor of Lagos State, the late Alhaji Lateef Jakande. What is that style of leadership or governance he had that you think is missing in the current administration in Lagos and at the federal level?
He had total commitment to what he set out to accomplish. He had absolute trust in people. Jakande would give you an assignment and not look over your shoulder to see whether you are doing the assignment or not. Of course, he had his own means of cross-checking but he would not breathe down your neck to make sure that you do the work. When he gave me the assignment, I told him outright that I did not want it. He asked why and I told him I didn’t like the way civil servants worked. He said he didn’t like it too but assured me his administration would be different. Two days before the swearing-in of his cabinet, he sent for me and I said I would give it a shot on two conditions. I told him I would complete my session with my students and submit their results and that I would like to continue to teach on part-time basis while my appointment would be full-time. He approved the two conditions. If he called a meeting, he would not be one-minute late. And once it started, you can be sure that it was a meeting that would last for hours and Jakande would not stand up for once to use the toilet.
How did you meet your wife?
I was at Baptist Academy while she was at Lincoln College (the name has been changed). There was a debate hosted by CMS Grammar School. I was there and she too was there with her friends. When we were about to leave, I just saw a group of four girls. She was the smallest among them and I went to her, asked her to excuse me and we chatted. I gave her my name and address (as there was no telephone as of that time) and she did the same. That was how we started.
How do you relax?
This is the only time I can say I’m relaxing. Before now, I enjoyed travelling. But with the inconvenience of COVID-19, what I do is just to eat, sleep and try to read, which I can’t do very much now because I would start dozing. I love writing. In my youthful days, I didn’t know how to relax. In fact, when I was with Daily Times, I would beg them to allow me to keep working during my annual leave; sometimes, they paid me in lieu and sometimes, they didn’t. I love my work. When I was teaching, I did it as if there was no tomorrow.
You wear a unique moustache. Is there a story behind it?
It must have come from Mr (Earl) Sloan, the one who did the embrocation and then (Sir) Herbert Macaulay.