I turned 60 last Thursday, August 6. This is the whole truth and nothing but the truth.
I do not say this with apology, embellishment, or any of the gymnastics that have become part of our national culture of age denial. August 6, 1966 is the date written in my father’s hand, Pa Isa Isu Ojeifo, on the back of my glazed black-and-white portrait taken when I was 12 months old. That same photograph decorated his sitting room for decades.
Many years later, I picked it up and brought the strongest evidence yet to Abuja. No affidavit. No back-dating. No committee. The ink had not faded. The memory had not shifted. The record was there.
For that I am grateful. In a country where adjusting and readjusting age has become almost a civic skill — rampant in the civil service, notorious in age-grade sports, especially football — I did not have to. My father, perhaps without knowing it, saved me from that particular Nigerian burden.
—Godiya: The word for this season—
Godiya is the Hausa word for gratitude. At 60, gratitude is the first word on my lips.
I am grateful to God for life. Sixty years is not a small number. It is six decades of mercies, missteps, miracles, mistakes, and making it. It is waking up on the morning of August 6 and realising that the boy in that 12-month portrait has been watched over, sustained, and redirected more times than I can count.
I am grateful to my parents. Pa Isa Isu Ojeifo, together with my mother, Madam Aishetu Ojeifo [both of blessed memory] , did more than write a date on a photo. They wrote values into us. They taught us that your word should be your bond, and that your record must stand the test of time and scrutiny. That lesson has served me in journalism, in public service, and in life.
I am grateful to family, friends, colleagues, and readers. You have been part of the journey. You have corrected me in public, prayed for me in private, and walked with me through seasons that were bright and seasons that were dark.
On August 9, I was in Church with family, friends and colleagues to thank God for the gift of life at 60. I specially acknowledge: my brother, former Governor of Imo State, Rt. Hon. Emeka Ihedioha, who sent a representative as he was in the Southeast to bury his in-law, Dr. Paddy Njoku; Professor Biodun Adeniyi, Vice Chancellor of Baze University, who represented Dr. Adebowale Adedokun, DG, Bureau of Public Procurement; former Acting DG of NTA, Mr. Sola Atere; Emeritus Professor of Philosophy at NOUN, Godwin Sogolo; Chairperson, NUJ FCT Chapter, Grace Ike; former Director of International Cooperation, Ministry of Budget and Economic Planning, Dr. Lanre Adekanye; and former Director at NIPC, Mrs. Uduak Etokowoh. Thank you for standing with me.
—The audit at 60—
Turning 60 forces an audit. Not just financial, though that matters. A moral audit. A purpose audit.
What have I done with the years? Who have I helped? Where did I stay silent when I should have spoken? Where did I speak when I should have listened? At 60, you stop pretending you have all the answers. You start asking better questions.
One question is about legacy. Not the one on a plaque, but the one that lives in people. Did I make it easier for someone younger to do honest work? Did I leave any institution a little better than I met it? Did I use whatever little influence I had to defend truth, especially when it was costly?
Another is about the country. Nigeria at 60 for me is a study in contradictions. We are a people of immense talent and exhausting self-sabotage. We celebrate resilience but normalise dysfunction. We know what to do, and yet we struggle to do it.
But I remain stubbornly hopeful. Hope is not naivety. Hope is a decision. And at 60, I have decided that despair is a luxury I cannot afford.
What changes after 60? Three things.
First, clarity. Life gets shorter on one end and clearer on the other. The noise falls away. You know what matters and what doesn’t. You stop chasing validation and start chasing value.
Second, service. If the first 60 were about building, the next phase must be about giving back. Mentoring, teaching, opening doors, and telling the truth without fear. If my experience can spare one young person the detours I took, then the years were not wasted.
Third, contentment. Not complacency. Contentment is knowing you did your best with what you had, and that whatever is next is in God’s hands. It is waking up and saying _godiya_ before you ask for anything else.
—Closing—
As I mark this milestone, I do so with a full heart. No regrets, only lessons. No entitlement, only gratitude. No fear of the future, only faith.
To my father, Pa Isa Isu Ojeifo: thank you for that date on the back of a photo. It kept me honest.
To God: thank you for 60 years. For the breath, for the battles, and for the blessings.
To you reading this: thank you for walking a part of the road with me.
The journey continues. With Godiya. With purpose. With truth.
NOTE: Views expressed by contributors are strictly personal and not of Theliberationnews
