Celebrating My Father's 90th Birthday: A Tribute to Rogba

For this 90th birthday reflection, I call you, my late father, ‘Rogba, as a term of endearment. This name reminds me of you, not just as my Superhero, but as the light of my younger life, who was close yet distant.

He would have turned 90 today. Thinking about calling him “Daddy” after so many years feels a bit childish to me now. I have many names for him in my heart, like Alhaji, Daddy, or my favorite, Muri, from his files. For over 30 years, I have not gone through all my father’s documents. But the ones I have seen show he was an amazing man who deserves to be celebrated often.

This is especially true today, on what would have been his 90th birthday. I think of him as ‘Rogba since the full name Aderogba feels powerful, almost like a prayer. For this birthday reflection, I call you ‘Rogba, not disrespectfully, but to humanize you as my Superhero, the light of my younger life.

Yes, Rogba, because that is the name you gave one of my sons, even though he hardly gets called that. Now that I’m older, calling you Daddy feels childish. I also see your youngest son-in-law with his father, and they seem like friends. It’s something I wish I could have shared with you. A few days ago, the IPO of the Dangote Refinery shares launched, and I know you would have invested in it, even if reluctantly. Your great portfolio of shares is still not fully realized. I remember coming from Ife to ask you to invest in the NICON NUGA Hilton for me, and you thought it would be a bad investment. Later, I found out you did invest in it, and your point was that I should build my own wealth.

I now see some of your layers, especially your discipline for detachment and self-control. For decades, I have read your letters, sorted receipts, and compiled minutes and asset documents, and I have some conclusions. You were one of the kindest people I knew. You paid many school fees for people up to the university level who were not family, even after Alhaja passed.

I thank you for taking care of Mama Gate after Alhaja died. I saw that you paid off her house on Old Ife Road, even when Cooperative Bank attached it to your pension. You could have influenced them to remove it and not pay the outstanding amount. This shows your kindness, even though she struggled with losing her daughter at a young age.

While you were alive, she seemed to push you to be generous to others. But this is not the whole truth. Yes, you were a team when she was alive, but your generosity continued after her passing. You were a very emotional man, not as openly emotional as I thought, but your concern for your community was clear. Like Alhaja, losing the Sema Stores Road Haulage Business affected your confidence greatly. You were a banker, not really a businessman, even with all your business ventures after leaving the Bank.

I love you so much that I try to show the best of you in myself and work on my flaws. It is fun to imagine you around at 90, celebrating your darling Motunrayo’s 40th birthday and meeting her children. She is the only banker among us. Your Abimbola also tried banking but is now in oil and gas. I found in both yours and Alhaja’s documents that you had a brief stay in that business. I often wonder what drove your business interests: was it what came your way, or the people you were with? I know you would invest in Dangote Refinery, as it fits your portfolio style.

I thank you for looking after Mama Gate after Alhaja passed. I saw that you paid off her house on Old Ife Road, and Cooperative Bank attached it to your pension. You could have influenced them to remove it and not pay the outstanding amount. This shows your kindness, even though she struggled after losing her daughter. Your grandchildren and great-grandchildren from around the world thank you.

‘Rogba, you remain my best friend after my wife. In my head, heart, and spirit, we keep talking about my decisions. You were very careful, but you were a banker after all. Everything is fine with us here, celebrating you and your legacy through our choices.

As the world changes, your words stay alive like they are written in stone. I remember you telling me, “Sky is the limit.” For many years, it sounded like a saying, but I have lived it through the Equality Foundation and beyond. You used to say it takes more muscles to frown than to smile. I disagreed, and now that habit affects me.

‘Rogba, you remain my best friend aside from my wife. In my head, heart, and spirit, we have this dialogue about my choices. You were very careful, but you were a banker. Everything is fine with us here, celebrating you and your legacy through our choices.

Adio omo elerin mosa, omo elewe ladogba, omo igi kan igi kan to dina l’erin ni popo alawe, ti ko je omo elerin le roko, ti ko je iwofa elerin le rodo. Omo Ibikunle oloke agbangbase, okansoso ajanaku, kiniun onibudo alagbala ijaya. Omo sheyi omo shoun omo shoun ogbomoso. Adio kiye seni sun re o.

I wish you a wonderful and blessed heavenly 90th birthday my father.