By Kehinde Olaosebikan
My father, the late Alhaji Yisau Bello Olaosebikan, was shocked when I informed him of my travelling to Lagos from my hometown, Ibadan, the second day after I returned from Minna, Niger State, where I had just completed service in the National Youth Service Corps. After being away for almost a year for the compulsory service, he couldn’t understand why I wanted to rush to Lagos without spending quality time with him and my siblings. My mum, Muslimat Ajike, had passed on four years earlier. He pleaded with me to spend some days with them, but I declined. He, however, saw reason with me when I explained to him that I had to go to Lagos immediately in search of employment, as I told him that “time waits for no one”. He agreed and prayed for me.
I arrived in Lagos, and my good friend, a mate from The Polytechnic, Ibadan, Jide Johnson Esan, of blessed memory, gladly accommodated me in his one-room apartment in Onipanu, Lagos. A few days later, one of Jide’s brothers brought me a copy of Vanguard Newspaper with an advertisement for vacancies for reporters and others. I immediately wrote an application and made it straight to the headquarters of Vanguard at Kirikiri Canal, Apapa. I succeeded in both the written and oral interviews that followed the application.
But while we were waiting at the reception (of Vanguard) for the result of the oral interview, a man whom I later got to know was the owner of Vanguard, strolled in. He greeted us warmly and said that we all looked hungry. He then directed the receptionist, Bola, to take us to ‘the canal’ for lunch. Just like a caring father would do to his children, the great Uncle Sam came back to check on us at the canal to see whether we were satisfied. We responded in the affirmative. The food was really nice and sufficient. After lunch, those of us who succeeded in the interview were given employment letters, and we started work almost immediately.
For the 11 years, from 1988 to 1999, that I worked for Vanguard, the publisher of Vanguard Newspapers, Mr Sam Amuka-Pemu treated me more like a son than an employee. He was interested in my progress, not just in Vanguard but in all aspects of life. Uncle Sam wanted me to be better, or at least be at par with my contemporaries. As a young man, he wanted me to have the best of friends (both males and females), and when it was time to marry, he showed more than passing interest. He ensured that I always had a functional official car and a befitting accommodation. I had the best accommodation among my peers in Abuja then, courtesy of Uncle Sam.
While most employers would be gloomy or mad when their employees show affluence or seem to be making money, my own publisher expressed more than joy at my success when I was working in his company and I would give three of the numerous instances where Uncle Sam evidenced to be more than the regular employer to me.
As the bureau chief of Vanguard, one of my duties was to see to the welfare of the chairman whenever he was in Abuja. That included receiving him at the airport and other protocol work. The bliss I saw on the face of Uncle Sam the day I went to pick him up at the airport with my newly bought Mercedes-Benz was unbelievable. At first, he thought the glittering car was hired, but when I told him that it was mine, he was ecstatic. After I settled him in his hotel, the then-Nicon Noga Hilton Hotel, now called Transcorp Hilton, Uncle Sam gave me $200 to “go and wash” the car with my friends. Trust me, I obeyed him to the letter as we used all the money to shark that night. We were in the Sheraton Night Club till about 9am the following day.
As exhibited to us on my first encounter with him, Uncle Sam loves giving people food, real good food and he abhors eating alone. In his house, in the flat, guest house, outside in the restaurant and buka, you can’t meet Uncle Sam eating alone. No matter the number of people around, whenever he wanted to eat, he would invite everybody over. So, anytime in Abuja, I must be with him for breakfast, lunch and dinner and when we were eating out, which we did frequently, my driver, Lucky, must join us and sit at the same table.
On a particular afternoon after we picked him up at the airport, Uncle Sam directed that we should go straight to one of his favourite food joints, Lizzy Malpas’ place in Area 10, Garki, for lunch. After Lizzy, the owner of the restaurant, one of the best in Abuja, then, took his order, it was Uncle Sam himself who asked me what I wanted to eat. He was, however, taken aback when I told him that I was fasting. Kenny, fasting? I said, “Yes.” He burst into his highly infectious laughter, rolling in his seat. He enjoys laughing and can make the saddest person laugh. We all laughed for more than five minutes. But when it dawned on him that I was truly fasting, he cancelled his order for food. We had to leave the restaurant for his hotel.
He was just glancing at me amid serious laughter till we reached the hotel. He then asked me to go back to the office and return in the evening for us to break the fast together, and that was what we did. He was surprised when I told him that since I was six years old, I had never missed a day of fasting during Ramadan. Uncle Sam decided there and then that I must perform the next holy pilgrimage to Mecca. He fulfilled the promise by paying fully for my Hajj with extra dollars, plenty.
Sometimes in 1997 or thereabouts, when cellular phones had just come out, one young fine lady banker almost made me lose my value before Uncle Sam. It was at the lobby of the Hilton Hotel; the lady was just flaunting her cellular phone, doing shakara with it all over the place. This made Uncle Sam doubt whether I was still functioning in Abuja as he probed: “Kenny, are you still in this Abuja?” I said, “Yes!” Because I knew why he asked the question. He was concerned why a young lady, whether a banker or any professional, could have a cellphone, while Kenny, Uncle Sam’s son, did not. I explained to him that the money I was saving for it remained just N50,000 to complete. The cost of acquiring a cellular phone at that time was around N350,000. Uncle Sam kept quiet, but as I was bidding him farewell at the airport, on his way back to Lagos, he gave me a cheque of N100,000 with a challenge that I should call him with my cellular phone the following day. It was a tall order, as getting cellular at that time could take up to a month. He, however, knew that I could achieve it. I got it the following day, and when I called, without any indication that it was me, he responded, “This must be Kenny,” and it was me, truly. He was highly delighted.
As I said earlier, Uncle Sam was more than an employer to me; he was interested in all aspects of my life to the extent that when I got married, he sang the popular ‘Winner oh oh oh, winner’ song for Lara, my wife.
Most of the pleasing characters that I exhibit today are products of my close association with the great Uncle Sam. May the Almighty continue to uphold the best, most caring, most loving employer and the most pleasant leader in the universe as he clocks 90 on Friday. Happy birthday, Daddy!
Kehinde Olaosebikan, Vanguard’s first chief parliamentary correspondent, pioneer Abuja bureau chief, and first regional editor, north, is currently the CEO of Midas Communications Ltd
