Tribute to ALABA ALAKIJA (Concluding part)

For over three decades, Alaba would remind me of a joke I had told him in London. Shegar, the Irish wonder horse, was the undisputed mile champion in England. However, he could not handle any distance beyond a mile. A mile was absolutely his limit. Anyway, Shegar was kidnapped on the eve of a major race which he was dead certain to win. The alarm went off. There was a frantic search for the horse all over England and Ireland. There was panic everywhere. A generous reward was offered for useful information about the whereabouts of Shegar the champion horse. This prompted an Irish wag to call Scotland Yard (police) and deliver a powerful message. “Instead of looking everywhere, just focus on where the horse was last seen and limit your search to a radius of one mile. Shegar would never venture beyond a mile!!!” Incidentally, the horse was murdered. The head was found but not the rest of its body.

Another joke we shared was about the Duke of Devonshire’s antics regarding the doping of his horse at Ascot Horse Racing. Just before the commencement of the race, the Duke accosted his trainer and insisted on tasting the dope before it was injected into the horse. The horse was immediately fired up. Alas, so also was the Duke. This prompted the trainer to confide in the jockey: “If anything goes past this horse, it must be the Duke of Devonshire.”

The history of the Alakija family and mine crisscross and converge at various points. Sir Adeyemo was born in 1884 but was friends with my grandfather Dr J.K. Randle, who was born in 1855. He qualified as a doctor (Edinburgh University) in 1888. Perhaps I should add that it was Dr J.K. Randle who founded Nigeria’s first political party, “The People’s Union”, in 1908. What was quite remarkable is that when Sir Adeyemo died on 10th May 1952, it was my father, Chief J.K. Randle, who succeeded him as chairman of both the Lagos Island Club and the Lagos Race (Horse Racing) Club.

During his lifetime Alaba Alakija made a success of his construction company (Alcide) but wound it up several years ago owing to the vagaries of the Nigerian economy. That left him with plenty of time to devote to his horses. He was in his element in the paddocks and stables of the Lagos Polo Club. Horse racing had ceased in Lagos. It was extinguished by the military government which took over the racecourse and converted it to a parade ground. Alaba found solace at horse races in Ibadan and in Accra, Ghana.

Alaba maintained lifelong friendships with his late father’s jockeys – Adamu, Hassan and several others. My recollection of the names of the horses which belonged to the stable of Sir Adeyemo Alakija were “Thirty-One”, “While Hope”, etc. That was during the Victorian Age when Nigerians were weaned on speaking the Queen’s (or King’s) English. Alas, when King Charles recently hosted President Bola Ahmed Tinubu at a state dinner at Windsor Castle, he spoke in Pidgin English.

Alaba passed on after a brief illness. I believe from up there in heaven, Alaba would be laughing about what he and I regarded as our favourite stories about horses.

One of them was about a Nigerian business tycoon who was driving the latest Rolls-Royce car around the countryside in England. Unfortunately, he lost his way and ended up with a head-on collision with a horse which was strolling on a farm. The farmer was furious. He cocked his rifle. When he noticed that the horse was groaning in pain, he decided to save it from further agony. He shot the horse dead. He turned to the Nigerian tycoon who was trembling with fear. He, too, was in pain, having suffered bruises and lacerations. “Chief, I hope you are alright. Do you need help?” The Nigerian noticed that the rifle was still cocked. His response was, “I have never felt better in life. I do not need any help at all.” He drove away as fast as he could.

Another horse story was about a circus that had been in existence for centuries. It was owned by a family, and it had passed through several generations. However, owing to financial difficulties, it could no longer continue in business. The owners decided to share the animals amongst four brothers. One of the brothers ended up with a horse as his share of the distribution. He was distraught until he came up with a brilliant idea. He would go from one village to another in England and offer a special prize to anyone who could make his horse nod its head up and down and thereafter make the horse shake its head vigorously from side to side. Whoever wanted to participate would first have to drop a shilling into the hat. In the first week, the second week, the third week and for many weeks, nobody won. The guy was making stacks of money as he went all over England. Business was booming. That was until a Nigerian guy turned up. He dropped his shilling into the hat and went up to the horse. He delivered a vicious kick to its groin. The horse screamed but did not nod its head up and down. Neither did it shake its head from side to side. The Nigerian guy lost. He decided to strategise.

At the next village, Woolton, the owner of the horse was doing brisk business. All was well until he noticed that the Nigerian guy was in the audience. What followed was apprehension and panic. The Nigerian guy allowed everyone else to have a go, but they all failed. He then walked up to the horse and grabbed the horse by the ears. He asked the horse, “Do you remember what I did to you last time?” The horse remembered the vicious kick in the groin and promptly nodded its head up and down. What followed was another question: “Do you want me to do it again?” Without hesitation, the horse shook its head from side to side in panic with an emphatic “NO”!!

The Nigerian guy won big time. Thereafter, wherever the horse-owner showed up, the Nigerian guy would show up and do his stuff all over again. What loomed on the horizon was bankruptcy. The horse owner eventually sold the horse to the Nigerian guy, who is now a frontline politician in Nigeria.

When we next see Alaba, the venue will be the other side of human existence.

Until then – adieu.

In the meantime, he has sent us the following message:

“It is very peaceful, tranquil and serene here. There is no need to bet on horses or dogs here. We are all winners here. We lack nothing. However, there is only one condition – at the Gate of Heaven, you have to get off your high horse to qualify for the abundant blessings and limitless mercies of the Almighty.

As for the bookmakers (turf accountants), they are in the vortex (inner circle) of the other place – begging for forgiveness.”