His charm was unflappable but it was his brains, his brilliance and his shinning discourse that got you first. He smiled, a really warm and mischievous smile even when things seemed out of hand. He was wearing that signature smile when we met virtually mid-year. The Presidential advisory committee against corruption had invited me to anchor one of their events virtually, there was my teacher all smiles, and engaging as usual, speaking to power as he always does. Everything was virtual. I introduced him as my teacher forever and he beamed a smile of pride, which he reserved for me, and many of his students nationwide and worldwide. It was difficult to find a group of four where Odekunle had not taught two. He was that phenomenal. If he did not teach you in class then he touched your life in many other ways by mentoring you or tutoring you about life. He was indeed a teacher’s teacher. “When are you going to age?” he asked on that day. He then proceeded to tell me how proud he was of me. Something he said every time I met him. My teacher was proud of what I had done with all his teachings. I was humbled. I laughed and saluted him. It was to be our last conversation.
I had been invited to the office of my very popular Lecturer. I was quite afraid. I was a fresh faced seventeen-year-old, new to university and learning how to manage without either of my parents nearby. I was an English major but had taken Sociology as an elective and was enjoying it thoroughly. Our lecturer was one Femi Odekunle, cerebral and with many tales to tell to support his course. It was Introduction to Sociology but we were all eating from this lecturer’s hand who had a most rebellious look, dressed to the nines with his sunglasses and speaking all this high-sounding English. The mob has no soul he would say and go on to describe how the mob can sweep you off your feet and make you do things you did not believe. With a core competency in criminology, he peppered his classes with stories from his core subject and then introduced us to Sociology like no one else possibly can. He was so good; I almost gave up my English course to major in Sociology. Everyone he taught came off with this feeling. So, this teacher had summoned me to his office and I was not even majoring in his subject. I did a quick check. What could he possibly want? I had passed his last test with an A plus. I continued to wonder as I awkwardly walked into his office. “You are Eugenia Amodu,” he said. I was stupefied.
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I had wondered when summoned, if the student he sent was sure it was me. Yes, sir I said, looking past him to the wall. He was intimidating yet friendly. Sit down he said and I did. I want you to do me a favour. Me? My heart was beating hard against my chest. This brilliant lecturer cannot need anything from me. We have a new student he said and I want you to help her catch up with the class. Share your notes and teach her what we have done. I was stupefied. You are one of my leading students. Your grades are good and you ask the right questions in class. We were a lot in our class. How did he even know who I was? The student went on to do well and Professor Odekunle kept me on his radar long after I stopped taking his class. He would ask after my grades and was more excited than I was when my final results came in from Zaria. After I graduated, he would call me on a whim to discuss national matters or just call to tell me how well I did on a telecast in my active days as a National news anchor. Professor Odekunle went on to teach my younger brother and another younger sister in ABU Zaria. Then he met my children and I met his. We became very good family friends and he adopted all my siblings and would be in touch with my late Mum.
It is such a huge lesson that life is so transient. We all must make our mark and be kind. For all men are mere mortals and would go the way of mortals. Who would have thought with Professor Odekunle so bubbly. But then that is the way for all men. His life will remain an example, a legacy. His works will remain forever.
He was never far away from those he cared about and would call if you had not called him. A loyal friend, we talked at length when my boss, his very good friend, Mr Jimmy Atte fell ill. And he showed concern while sharing his health progress with me till Mr Atte passed.
I had just finished my morning ritual, prayers, a quick check of my day’s schedule and then my phone when I saw a story that made no sense. Professor Femi Odekunle passes on. I was in denial at first. There is only one Femi Odekunle in the whole wide world and he was my teacher. A teacher for life. I made so many phone calls. How could this be? Such a man so full of life, such a cerebral man, such a warm man.
My teacher has passed. A great academic tree has fallen. May his soul rest in perfect peace. Amen. May God give his family the fortitude to bear this huge loss. Amen. My deepest condolences to Professor Itse Sagay, Chairman and Professor Raddah, Executive Secretary and all the staff and management of the Presidential Advisory Committee Against Corruption with whom he worked so closely. How will we find a man who was so cerebral, where will we find a man who was so committed as a teacher, where is the man so deeply loyal to his friends, so in love with his family. Here was a man whose humour was in basketfuls and whose wit was undeniable. A man so charming, so brilliant, so forward looking, so strategic, so analytical, so trenchant, who loved Nigeria deeply.
We all know that there will never be a Femi Odekunle this side of the divide ever again. A great teacher has passed. He will be sorely missed.
