‘You probably have not worked with his kind of editor,’ Adeola Yusuf pens revealing and emotional tribute for the third editor of New Telegraph newspaper, Ayodele Ojo, on his golden jubilee.
He was an ‘almighty’ editor of a national daily, he had that rare privilege to impact or make life miserable for those behind him. Today, ‘many many’ years after those days, he is, whether he likes it or not, somewhere in the world, reading different stories from those he presided over. Call it a payback day, and you won’t be wrong. Grab a pack of popcorn, or a bowl of akamu and akara, and, if you like, a plate of amala and abula; here is my own account!
Two reporters, at times, at the front (passengers’ seat), four at the rare; his car was the unofficial ‘official staff bus’ at the close of production. Even when the New Telegraph moved from number 1 Ajumobi street off ACME road, Agidingbi to its present 25B, Talabi street off Adeniyi Jones, he did not miss the ritual of serving as our official driver. He would lift and drop every reporter on duty either at home or a few meters to his/her abode.
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That pure soul we call Ayodele Ojo proved to be so genuine with love for the progress of those behind him. He had no airs about (and around) him. He was down-to-earth that everyone found it easy to talk to him. His heart was so light that he won’t burden it with negative side talks or hatred for anyone. You have seen editors, you probably have not seen one who would not only be the first to greet his reporters, but also call you to apologise to you if he feels you were offended by any hitch from official relationship.
He would joke with many, harass some, play with some, share his little earnings/resources with all, but he will never harm any of his reporters or colleagues.
You are either a brilliant, hardworking reporter or graphic editor if you find yourself in his circle or you start thinking of a water-tight excuse/narrative to convince or confuse him on why you shouldn”t be a part of his routine passengers on way home after production. At every trip, editor would set his Google map, adjust/fix his seat belt, ignite ‘our car’s engine’ and set for his last assignment for the day – drop us off at our various bus stops and streets.
He will clear his throat, start with a joke, and pronto the windfall of story ideas to the ‘(un)fortunate’ reporters onboard. Ask Felix Nwaneri, call Temitope Ogunbanke, check with Adedayo Gatuso Odulaja, confirm from Sunkanmi Susan. And, so yours truly would be the last to alight. Of course, my bus stop is at the rare of the arrangement, and you can imagine who got the large share of his ‘why can’t you do this, why can’t you do that favour.’
“Adeola,” he would begin in his fine Ekiti genre of Yoruba language, “how about the five stories I suggested for you yesterday. Oh, very good, you have done two today. So why don’t you look at this new tariff by NERC? What about the PIB? What is the latest from your girlfriend, Diezani? What are your friends in NNPC saying about At Las Cove? Has that jetty being left to decay? Can you get the value of investment on that jetty?” Don’t ask me about the thoughts that would be fluttering through my mind because I won’t tell you, but, of course, I will tell you that he wouldn’t look at my Uche’s eye as they say on the street, my editor would go on and on until we get to Kola, a bustop that would always, because of that encounter, take like eternity before its rusty road and terrible traffic become visible.
By the time I say my own ‘good night, Sire,’ at the usual Nureni Yusuf street most times around 11:37 p.m. , I would have, without my consent, been loaded with between 10 and 15 story ideas.
Here and there, I have won awards, earned recognitions, and stood out as the byline that has (then) mostly graced the cover of New Telegraph. Daily and weekend editions almost always have as many as three of my well-researched stories written from that ritual with Ayo.
Today, my editor, now a successful farmer and the publisher of The star, is 50, and I consider this the best day to say thank you to him for those rides and those ideas. He will motivate you. He will commend as much as harass you to succeed. Such a good leader, through and true!
May God, Whom you believe and worship wholeheartedly, continue to strengthen and bless you, good man. May He, the Alpha and the Omega, grant you a honourable mention on the tongue of truth.
And, from all of us at Platformsafrica, it’s best wishes, sir, always. All ways!
Let’s play Apiiri, Alele, Alakutu (a kind of group song), Alamo (praise chant), Ere Ode, Adamo, or any of the traditional music forms regarded as the ethnic-based popular music in Ekiti nowadays for Ayo. Tope Alabi’s gospel or Elemure Ogunyemi’s Ere Ibile too won’t be bad ideas. Ojo gbodo jo. The Ekiti-born third editor in New Telegraph’s history just must dance today.
Happy birthday, Awe, Ibu owo Baba 3Ds
Gbemugbemu Ola Oko Omolara.
Ire l’oju owo nri, Oga mi
Ire o. Ire kabiti
Oniyan Uyi, Oniyan Aponle
As’eyi s’amodun
Sincerely,
AdeolaYUSUF, 2024
Team Lead
Platforms Africa
