6 Rights of Newly Born Baby to the Parents according to Islam.

Babies! Who doesn’t love babies? Babies are the most beautiful gift of God. Not only is the whole event of giving birth to a baby happening but it also gives us a reality check of how powerful Allah is to create a human body out of nothing but a pea-sized cell. As soon as you hold this little baby in your arms, you realize how beautiful life is and you tend to forget all your worries for that one specific moment. Everything seems wonderful as you have now become a parent but with great power comes great responsibility! Islam throws light on how deeply important it is for parents to take care of a newborn, be it in the sense of cleanliness, prayers or even greeting him or her. 1-The name of the Baby: The first responsibility is to choose a name. The name is supposed to be nothing but perfect because it will affect the entire personality of that child. The name is also the first source of an impression after greeting someone. Prophet Muhammad (PBUH) told us how it is extremely important for parents to choose names with respectful meanings for their children. No bad name or name with an ugly meaning should be chosen for the child. Prophet Muhammad (PBUH) himself has changed names with negatives meanings like Harb meaning war to Silm meaning peace.  According to the Prophet Muhammad (PBUH), ‘’ The most beloved of names to Allah are Abdullah and Abdul Rehman.’’ (Sahih Muslim). So, it is always preferred to name your sons either Abdullah or Abdul Rehman.   The names of Muslim Boys such as Abdul Aziz, Abdul Raheem, and Abdul Lateef are also considered to be respectful as they depict being slaves and worshippers of Allah. Out of the names of the prophets, the best ones are Muhammad, Ibrahim, Moosa, North, and Eesa. If you are looking for The Names of Muslim Girls, there are countless beautiful names that belong from the history of Islam such as, Hannah, Mariam, Fatima, Khadija, and Asya.

2-Call to Prayer in the Ears: After holding the baby, say the call to prayer in his or her ears as it is a declaration of faith and gives protection from the devil along with making the baby relaxed and comfortable..

3-Tahneek: Then a small piece of the date first softened and then should be put into the baby’s mouth so that the baby starts moving his jaw and his mouth becomes more active, helping him during breastfeed by the mother.

4-Shaving the Head: After this, the baby’s head should be clearly and carefully shaved on the seventh day and whatever the amount of weight of the hair is, the exact same should be given out to charity in the form of either silver or cash.

5-Aqeeqah: It is Sunnah to slaughter a sheep and cook its meat and then distribute it to the poor ones and call relatives and close friends to eat the same meat. This event is called Aqeeqah. It is not compulsory but of course shows a great sign of happiness and thankfulness by the parents, to Allah. A single sheep is slaughtered on the birth of a girl whereas two are slaughtered for a boy.

Circumcision is very important for an infant boy and should be done carefully. Medical studies are also proving how this ritual is very healthy for boys after they grow up. 6-Pray to Allah: Lastly, pray to Allah for the well-being of your child and raise him or her in the best possible manner. May Allah bless all the newborn children and give them a happy and wealthy life.

Battle between King Sunny Ade Vs Chief Bolarinwa Abioro

Today, Onigegewura brings to you the true story of the epic battle between King Sunny Ade and Chief Bolarinwa Abioro. Unlike Anti Wura, Onigegewura will tell you the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.

It was in 1974 that the news broke. Chief Bolarinwa Abioro, the Balogun of Ipokia, the Chairman of African Songs Limited, had taken his star musician to court! Everyone who knew KSA knew Abioro. Everyone who knew Abioro knew Sunday Adeniyi. Sunny was the son. Abioro was the father. What could have gone wrong between father and son?

KSA was the second artiste to be signed on to the stable of African Songs Limited. Ayinde Bakare was the first. Sikiru Ayinde Barrister was the third. Like most creative people, young Sunny Ade was more concern about his passion and less concern about the business aspect of music. His passion was to play music and to excel as a musician.

It was enough that Abioro – one of the biggest men in the music industry at the time – was ready to promote him. They brought documents for Sunny and his band boys to sign. They called it a contract. It could have been called any other name for all that KSA cared. Won ni ko wa je saara, o ni ojo ti wonu ju. Se ata ni won ni ko mu wa ni, abi iyo. You are invited to a free feast, you are complaining about the short notice, are they asking you to bring salt or pepper? Sunny Ade and his boys didn't hesitate. It is doubtful if any of them read what the contract said. The most important thing was that they were going to become recording artistes. Sunny signed. His band boys signed. Everybody was happy.

KSA, Abioro and other artistes of ASL

The contract was for 5 years. However before its expiration, KSA had become a household name. His album, Challenge Cup, sold in excess of 500,000 copies. It was certain that King Sunny Ade was going to dominate the music scene for a very long time to come. African Songs Ltd knew a good product when it saw one. The management of the company didn’t wait for the first contract to expire before they brought a new contract.

The new agreement was carefully worded. KSA and his band boys agreed to perform and record exclusively for ASL for a period of five years. ASL had full copyrights to all compositions and recordings of Sunny Ade. ASL was entitled to the sole right of production, reproduction,  and use of King Sunny Ade’s performance throughout the world.

That was not all. During the period of the agreement, KSA was prohibited from rendering any performance whatsoever to himself, any company or group of persons. The contract also stipulated that ASL had the option to renew the agreement at its expiration for a further term of  two years or for any longer period. Sunny Ade had no such right.

That was not all. On the sale of every album which price was then fixed at N6.00, KSA and his boys were entitled to a princely sum of 20 kobo. Yes, you read that right. African Songs would go home with the remaining N5. 80 kobo. Onigegewura's mathematics has never been good.  He is just an amateur historian. You can do the sum yourself.

Still basking in the euphoria of his growing fame, Sunny gratefully signed again. His band boys signed. 20 kobo was still something. Orogun iya re da sokoto fun o, o ni ko bale, melo ni iya to bi o da fun o? You are complaining that the trousers made for you by your step-mother was not long enough, where is the one your own mother made for you?

They were expecting their 20 kobo royalty on every album. Well, when the time came for actual payment, it was then discovered that mathematically and arithmetically, it was not supposed to be 20 kobo. They had not factored the cost of publicity and promotion! And since it was the artiste that was being promoted, he must be the one to bear the cost! After the addition and subtraction, Sunny was given 15 kobo per album.

KSA was not Chike Obi, the mathematician. But he knew that 20 kobo and 15 kobo were not the same thing. Compared with his contemporaries in the music industry, KSA realized that he was holding the short end of the stick. His colleague, Baba Commander, Chief Ebenezer Obey was earning as high as 70 kobo per album. Others were earning between 35 kobo and 60 kobo.

KSA, Queen Oladunni Decency and Baba Commander

That was when Sunny decided to ask Chief Abioro for a raise of the royalty payment. The chairman listened patiently to KSA and his colleagues. He was nodding as they canvassed one reason after another why a raise was in order. When they finished, Chief Abioro flipped open a file he had on his table. He brought out a bundle of documents. Even from where he was seated across the table, Sunny saw that it was a copy of the contract he signed. “An agreement is an agreement. It is a binding contract!” The chief informed them. “This is what you signed. This is what you are entitled to! No more, No less.” He returned the documents to the file. Case dismissed.

But Sunny was not done. “Chief, this is not about contract. You are our father. Our request is for adequate compensation! Let’s leave the contract aside.” Chief Abioro looked at the young star the way a parent looks at a child asking for another candy. “Leave the contract aside? We should leave the contract aside?” The chairman asked incredulously. “You know, it would be nice to leave the contract aside. But you know what? That would be illegal!”

Haba! Illegality ke! . It was then that someone brought up the idea of requesting some of his friends to plead their case. Sunny agreed. After all, Eni ti o mo oju Ogun, ni pa obi ni 're. It is the person who is conversant with Ogun, the god of iron, that is usually given the duty to administer its rites. They went to meet Prince Okunade Sijuwade who would later become the Ooni of Ife. They also met with Chief Afolabi Joseph. Even Chief Ebenezer Obey was also requested to intervene as well as Chief Nurudeen Alowonle. (You will soon read about the epic battle between Nurudeen Alowonle and Haruna Ishola on this blog.)

The eminent persons appeared in the court of the Balogun of Ipokia as ‘amici curiae’ on behalf of the musicians. Amici curiae are lawyers invited by the judge(s) to assist in filling briefs that may be helpful to the court in deciding a case. Our eminent persons argued their case like experienced advocates. They cited relevant sections of the unwritten Yoruba constitution. They cited Yoruba proverbs. They made reference to the story of Oduduwa. The presiding chairman listened to their submissions and summarily dismissed the case. Contract is contract!

Chief did not only dismiss the request for a raise. He opened another file on his table and brought out a new set of documents. Your guess is right! A new five-year contract! By now, Sunny Ade had learnt enough law. He had become a professional mathematician. He had obtained his Master of Business Administration from practical experience. He knew the implication of putting pen to paper. He applied for an adjournment.

The King of African Beats found himself in a quandary. His new songs were ready but Chief had threatened not to release any new album until he signed the new contract. And KSA was not ready to sign any new contract until the issue of royalty was resolved.

KSA remembered his grandmother’s proverb. Ti abiku ba gbon ogbon ati ku ni igba erun, iya abiku a gbon ogbon ati sin oku e si etido. If an abiku decided to die during the dry season when he knew that the ground would be hard to dig, his parents would also decide to bury him by the riverside where the ground would not be hard to dig.

Sunny Ade decided to release his record with another company. His plan was to use the album to bargain for a better deal with African Songs. Instead of the measly 20 kobo, he was confident that the chairman would be ready to pay him at least N1.00 per copy. The album was recorded in Nigeria but taken to London for mixing. What Sunny Ade did not know was that Chief Abioro was a master at the game. Before Sunny could get a copy of his own album, Chief Abioro was already in possession of the new record.

Baba Ibeji was composing fresh materials at home when the court bailiffs arrived. They served him with an order of interim injunction! The court order was as comprehensive as it was broad. Sunny Ade was prohibited from sale, distribution, marketing, dealing, etc. etc. of the record. He read the order again. Even without being a lawyer, he knew the implication of the document he was holding.

With palpable emotion, his mind went back to how he came to Lagos from Abeokuta with only one shilling and eighteen pence! He remembered his years with Baba Sala. He recalled how he got stranded with Baba Sala’s travelling theatre in Jebba and Kano. How he did not see his mother for two years whilst he suffered to make it as a musician. He recalled how his first album sold only 13 copies. Now when he was at the threshold of success, this court order! With grim determination, he knew he couldn’t afford to quit.

KSA and his mentor, Baba Moses Olaiya

He remembered his first day at Oshodi when he missed his way trying to locate Moses Olaiya’s house and how he was directed instead to Dr. Victor Olaiya at Tinubu. He recalled how he knelt down in the dust of Oshodi to pray. Immediately he knew what he must do. Sunny went down on his knees and with an emotional voice, he prayed and prayed.

It was not the Sunday Adeniyi that knelt down to pray that stood up. He had become empowered. He had become emboldened. That same evening, he established his own label.

Sunny Alade Records was born!

He didn’t bother to sit down again. He remembered the threat of Chief Abioro to bring him down at all cost. He needed a lawyer who knew his law and who would be prepared to fight his cause against the Magnate. He went off in search of Gani Fawehinmi.

Gani collected the court papers and looked at the claims. He looked at his client. He looked again at the claims. Chief Abioro was not leaving anything to chance. He knew what he wanted from the court. His lawyer had read the agreement between African Songs Limited and Sunday Adeniyi.

Chief Abioro wanted only four things from the court: a declaration that the agreement between ASL and Sunday Adeniyi and his boys was still subsisting; an injunction restraining Sunny Ade from distributing or selling the record; an account of all sales of the record; and N1 million for breach of contract.

I hope you are not sneering at the N1 million as being ‘chicken change’. Remember this was in 1974. The price of a brand new Volkswagen Beetle car was about N500 at that time. N1 million in 1974 was a princely sum!

On the day of the trial, the court was filled to capacity. Gani Fawehinmi was armed with every conceivable legal authority. The law books he brought to the court were more than enough to open a library. There were books on Contract. There were books on Human Rights. There were volumes on Intellectual Property. Gani even brought some books on Slave Trade.

The first application Gani brought before the court was for an order to compel African Songs to produce its statement of account over the preceding three years. The court granted the order. It was discovered that the company was making almost N900,000 every year from the sale of Sunny Ade Records. It was also discovered that the total sum that KSA received was N62,000 in the almost ten years he was with the company. How can you be asking me what is 900,000 divided by 62,000? I have told you that I’m not a mathematician. Please don’t ask me about percentages or fractions.

KSA playing for Chief Idowu Shofola, SAN at Ikenne

Gani did not forget to raise the issue of how 20kobo became 15 kobo. He also cross-examined Chief Abioro at length on the onerous terms contained in the contract. Gani put it to the chief that the contract was in restraint of trade and that it was therefore null and void as it amounted to colonization of  King Sunny Ade, a free citizen of the Federal Republic of Nigeria and a citizen of the Commonwealth!

My Lord Justice L. J. Dosunmu listened patiently to the parties. His Lordship also asked the witnesses some probing cases.  The court thereafter adjourned the matter to February 14, 1975 for judgment.  It did not even occur to the King of African Beats that the day was St. Valentine’s Day. His only preoccupation was to find out the direction in which the pendulum of justice was going to swing.

The Prince of Music

On February 14, people started arriving at the court as early as 7am. The court officials had hectic time controlling the mammoth crowd that had come to court to witness the historic decision.

In His Lordship’s judgment, Justice Dosunmu held that although some of the terms of the contract were stringent, that was not a ground for holding the contract invalid. In effect, the contract between ASL and KSA was therefore valid. As the court pronounced on the validity of the contract, Sunny looked at his lawyer. Gani signaled to him to be calm, the court had only resolved one issue out of four.

With regard to the second claim, the court held that since the records in question had been distributed all over Nigeria, there was no way the court could order them to be recalled. The court therefore refused to restrain Sunny Ade and his marketer, M. Ola Kazim from distributing the album. A tiny smile crossed Sunny’s face.


The King of Music
You recall that Chief Abioro was asking for N1,000,000 as damages for breach of contract. The court ruled that for recording with another company during the subsistence of the contract, Sunny Ade was liable. He was asked to pay N300! Yes, Three Hundred Naira! From N1,000,000 to N300! Sunny smiled for the first time.

The court having found that the contract was still subsisting, KSA was ordered not to release another album pending the expiration of the contract with Chief Abioro’s company, which was due in six months. Six months! What am I going to be eating? Sunny thought. Apparently, this was the only part of the judgment that Anti Wura, Buroda Alani's third wife must have heard, and heard wrongly too!

As if reading Sunny Ade’s mind, Justice Dosunmu said he realized that Sunny Ade would need to eat and feed his family in the six months that the contract had to run. His Lordship therefore held that the injunction was limited to only recording of albums and that Sunny Ade was free to do live performances for fees. His Lordship said that this was  in order to avoid a situation where the King of Music would starve or be compelled to go back to Chief Abioro.

The Judge had hardly risen before King Sunny Ade jumped up to hug his counsel. He was free! He gave Gani a bear hug. He had learnt his lesson. Creativity and Business must go hand in hand. Years later, the King of Music recalled: “The lesson I learnt from the episode is that if an artiste is churning out hit records, he needs to keep an eye on the business side of things. If not, he would be in a mess.”

I thank you for your time.

Story of a land grabber EJIGBADERO VS RAJI OBA

As you go from Iyana Ipaja to Egbeda in Alimosho, Lagos State, Raji Oba Street is to your left. It is one of the most popular streets in the area. It is the street that hosts the imposing complex of Bishop David Oyedepo’s Winner Chapel. There is a branch of Diamond Bank close to Moshalasi Bus Stop that leads to the street. It is a street that you can’t miss. Ha! You know the street? I told you it’s a street you can’t miss.

However in the 1970s when this true-life story began, there was no Raji Oba Street. There was no Winner Chapel building. There was no Diamond Bank. In fact, almost all of what is now one of the most densely populated areas in Lagos State was a forest. Except for some rural settlements scattered here and there, the entire Alimosho was a village.

So who was Raji Oba? Why was the street named after him? Is there a story behind the naming of the street after him? What happened that fateful night in 1975? You know you cannot make eba without garri? To tell you the story of Raji Oba, I must tell you the story of Ejigbadero.

Raji Oba’s story is Ejigbadero’s story. Ejigbade’s story is Raji Oba’s story. It was a story that shook the entire Lagos State to its foundation. My uncle who was then a young surveyor  told me that for years, some people were scared of going to the area once it was nightfall. Today, Onigegewura brings you the story of  Kiniun Baba Moradewun! Lion of Mushin! Jimoh Ishola Adeyemi!  Ejigbadero! Gbadero! The Chairman!

Jimoh Ishola was arguably one of the famous people in Lagos of 1960s and 1970s. He was rich. He was streetwise. He was known. He was connected. He was the darling of musicians of the day. One of the surest ways to launch a musical career then was to sing about Ejigbadero. Yusuf Olatunji (Baba Legba) devoted substantial part of his Volume 19 to sing his praises. Baba Commander, Ebenezer Obey and his Inter Reformers Band, celebrated him in his 1974 album.

If Nigeria was not under military rule in 1970s, Jimoh Ishola could have contested and won an elective political position. He was that famous.

Though Ejigbadero was not born in Lagos, he became the unofficial Lord Mayor of Lagos metropolis. Jimoh hailed from Oja-Oba Quarters in Ibadan, Oyo State. He came with his uncle to Lagos as a young man to learn a vocation. On his arrival Lagos, he quickly graduated from an apprentice to a company owner.

When he incorporated his company, Jimsol Nigeria Limited, he was not satisfied with just being called the Managing Director. Everybody in Lagos was MD. Gbadero must be different. He styled himself the Chairman and Chief Executive of the nail manufacturing company. His  office and factory were at Matori in Mushin Lagos. Yusuf Olatunji was the musician invited to the company’s opening. With his sákárà andmóló vibrating in the background, Baba Legba praised Gbadero to the high heavens. Overnight,Olatunji’s throaty “Gbadero Ishola di Chairman! Omo Adeyemi!” became the national anthem. Ejigbadero was the Chairman.

Nail manufacturing was however not Ishola’s only vocation. Over the years, Kiniun Baba Moradewun had acquired reputation as a dealer in landed properties. He bought land. He sold houses. If you needed someone to protect your landed interests, Ejigbadero was your man. If someone forcefully took over your land, Abibatu’s husband was your best bet. If your own interest was to take over someone’s land, Baba Gani was the person you needed to see.

Ejigbadero was known to the police. He was familiar to the judges as a perennial litigant. And one curious thing about his court appearances is that he was never a plaintiff. He was always the defendant. He was popular with lawyers. At a point, he was reputed to know the criminal code more than some lawyers. He used to ‘advise’ his lawyer to cite section 45 subsection 3 instead of section 33 subsection 1 that the lawyer wanted to cite.  He had done enough cases to make him a Senior Advocate if he was called to the Bar.

In 1975, Ejigbadero went with his boys to clear his land in Alimosho Village. The land was full of cocoa and kolanut trees. Remember I told you that Alimosho was a village in 1970s.   The land we are talking about is not one plot or two plots. It was a vast area of land. When the villagers saw their economic trees going down, they challenged Jimoh Ishola and his boys. The Lord Mayor informed the villagers that he had purchased the land in 1970s. Purchased? Which Land? From whom? For how much? Who witnessed the transaction? Who collected the money? These and more were the questions the villagers were throwing at Ejigbadero who was calmly leaning on his walking stick.

The villagers refused to allow Eji and his boys to continue to work on the land. The Boys looked at their Boss. They were waiting for the signal. The walking stick was the signal. This was not the first time they would be challenged over a parcel of land and they knew it wouldn’t be the last. They knew that once Ejigbadero stepped on any land, the land must become his. Eji was like a snail. Ìgbín tenu mo igi o gun! Any tree a snail touches must be climbed. Eji smiled at the crowd. It was not a friendly smile.  The Boys looked expectant. Instead of Eji to raise the walking stick, he turned back. The Boys followed him, their disappointment was apparent.

The villagers shouted after the retreating figures. “We don win! We don win. You think you can just take our land like that. Never! Never!” Some of them were however not shouting. They knew that the retreat of Ejigbadero was not a surrender. They knew that he would be back. The Chairman was not the one to run away from a fight. The Boss was a vulture, a patient bird.

They remember what happened to Okuwobi in 1962. Ejigbadero had informed his boys that he was looking for a buyer for one of his properties. He promised them generous commission. The boys went to town. Okuwobi indicated interest in the building. It was a building under construction. Okuwobi paid part of the agreed purchase price. It was agreed that the balance would be paid upon completion.

Okuwobi collected receipt and began to dream of becoming a landlord in Lagos. He was considering whether to paint the house blue or grey. Or green, or cream. He finally decided on white. He had heard that the official residence of the American president was White House.  It was then that a friend told him that the house, his house, had been sold to someone else. Okuwobi didn’t know whether he walked or flew to Mushin. He shouted. He threatened. Ejigbadero was unmoved. Okuwobi reported to the police. He was advised to go to court. He spent more than 10 years in court.

The villagers knew that they must act fast if they didn’t want to spend 10 years in court. At the time, the nearest police post was at Agege. They went to Agege Police Station to make a report of malicious damages to property against Ejigbadero. As they were writing their statements, the Chairman himself appeared with his boys. He had come to lodge a report of trespass against the villagers who entered his property without his permission. The police officers were confused. They attempted to broker a peaceful settlement. No way. Ejigbadero wanted his land. The villagers wanted their land. Who then was the owner of the land?

Police assured the warring parties that the case would be investigated. They were asked to go and maintain peace.

Raji Oba was one of the villagers. He was as brave as he was vocal. He was not afraid of Ejigbadero and he told him to his face. Even when Ejigbadero threatened to kill him, the threat was met with a sneer. “Igbá ni won n pa, enikan kii pa àwo” was his retort. He was confident that only calabash could be smashed with foot, no one would dare drop a plate.

Police investigation or no police investigation, Ejigbadero was not the one to keep away from the land. Raji Oba had finished work on the farm for the day. He was almost at home when he was informed that the Chairman was around with his thugs who he usually described as his workers. Raji turned back. Ma fi oko mi se ona, ojo kan ni a n dekun re. Raji was determined that he was going to stop the land grabber that day. He was followed by some of the villagers who had also heard the news.

They met Ejigbadero on the land. His boys were cutting cocoa trees with ruthless determination. Kolanut trees were not being spared either. Raji Oba flared up. A big fight erupted. Ejigbadero stood like a rock. He was commanding his boys to give it to the villagers like an army general. In the free-for-all that followed, Ejigbadero saw his chance as Raji Oba moved close to him. In a moment he had stabbed him. Raji didn’t see the dagger, but he felt the blood flowing from his eyebrow. It was clear that Jimoh Ishola was aiming for his eye. “Mo ku o!” The villagers heard the agony in the voice of their leader and rushed to his aid.

They took him to the hospital and from there to the police station. They made a report of criminal assault and attempted murder against Ishola. Police promised diligent investigation. But it appeared to the villagers that the police at Agege belonged to the Lion of Mushin.

Back at his base in Mushin, Ejigbadero was not happy. He had expected the villagers to put up the usual feeble resistance. He had planned how to subdue them.  After all, ‘ibeji kii se akopa aje’. Killing twins is not a new thing to a witch. But he had not expected the stiff opposition he met in Alimosho. He knew the cause of the problem. It was Raji Oba. What type of Oba was he that he would stop Ejigbadero, Kiniun Baba Moradewun?

“Baba Fatai, your food is ready.” Ejigbadero looked up. It was his youngest wife, Ramota. Though he was not particularly hungry, he didn’t want to displease the pregnant woman. He told her to bring the food. At the sight of the expectant mother, an idea started to form in his mind. He smiled. Ramota thought her husband was enjoying the meal. She was pleased.

It was in the month of August 1975 that Lagos social circle heard the news it had been waiting. Ramota, Ejigbadero’s wife had put to bed. Socialites knew what to expect. It was going to be a grand occasion. It was going to be an assemblage of Lagos who’s who. It was going to be the party of the century. And it was a Friday! TGIF!

True to expectation, Ejigbadero didn’t spare any expenses for the naming ceremony.  Food was in excess. Wines replaced water. Musicians were competing with themselves on the bandstand. The blind requested to be led to the occasion. The lame crawled. Ejigbadero and his four wives were dressed in a manner befitting a king and his Oloris. They were a spectacle to behold.

Sabitu Oba was Raji Oba’s wife. She was coming back from the market when she saw Ejigbadero and his boys.  A woman was in their midst. She was shocked to see the Chairman. They had heard in the village that his wife had delivered a baby and that the day was the naming ceremony. She was wondering what type of man would leave his baby’s naming ceremony to come to the village. Well, that’s his business, she thought.

Sabitu quickened her pace. She needed to warn her husband of the presence of the chairman in the village. It was already dusk but the moon had appeared. It wouldn’t be nice for Raji to be roaming the village at such a time when Ejigbadero was around. She met her husband reclining in front of their house. She heaved a sigh of relief.

She informed her husband that Ejigbadero was in the village. Raji Oba was also surprised. He had heard that Ejigbadero was holding a lavish party that day in Mushin. So what was he doing in the village? And why did he choose to come to the village at dusk. “I hope he has not come to bury charms on the land!” His wife suggested.

She had hardly finished speaking when she heard an explosion. GBOAH! Raji Oba fell from his seat with a thud! Sabitu jumped in alarm! Raji had been shot in the head. The wounded man began to groan in pain. Blood was oozing from the wound.

Sabitu turned to the direction where the sound of the explosion had come from. Smoke from gunpowder was drifting up to the clear moonlight sky. She saw seven people running away towards a nearby bush. She distinctly recognized Ejigbadero. He was wearing a short sleeve shirt and trousers. He was holding a gun. He was at the rear of the fleeing people. Her temporary shock over, Sabitu shouted at the retreating figures: “Ejigbadero mo ri e o! Ara Abule! Ejigbadero ti pa mi loko o!”

Back in Mushin, the naming party was in full swing! Ejigbadero was moving from table to table, exchanging banters with his friends and well-wishers. Remember I told you that Ejigbadero was well connected in the society. His guests that night included magistrates, lawyers, police officers and leading journalists of the day. Camera bulbs were flashing as Ejigbadero posed for photographs with his guests. It was a party that Mushin would remember for a long time.

Police officers in Agege were already familiar with Alimosho villagers. There was hardly a week that they would not come to the station to report one incident or another. On the evening of August 22, 1975, the police officers on duty heard the crowd from a distance. Alimosho people have come again! What has happened again? The officers wondered.

“Ejigbadero ti pa Raji o!”

The officers knew that Yoruba language was full of hyperbolic expressions. A mere tap on the cheek could lead to a shout of ‘Mo ku o! O ti pa mi o!” They were however shocked when they realized that Raji had actually been killed. This was not a case of Mo gbe! Mo ku! Mo daran! The villagers were unanimous that it was Ejigbadero that killed Raji.

Ejigbadero was in company of late party guests in his house when the police came. He was informed that his attention was needed at their station. He was wanted in connection with the murder of Raji Oba. Ejigbadero’s visitors did not allow him to speak before they jumped to his defence! “When? Where? Ejigbadero who did not step out of  this Mushin throughout yesterday!”

The Lion of Mushin was confident of himself. His defence was as solid as a rock. His alibi was incontrovertible. He had judges, lawyers, police officers and journalists as his witnesses. What more could he want? He retained Chief Sobo Sowemimo, a highly experienced advocate, as his counsel. His case was good. He knew. On the other side was the Lagos State Director of Public Prosecution, Mr. Omotunde Ilori.

As the prosecution began its case, Ejigbadero was becoming rather impatient. He knew the trial was going to be a waste of his time. Mr. Ilori called Sabitu Oba to the witness box. She narrated the event of the day. Ishola was smiling throughout her testimony. Who would believe the testimony of a village woman?

Mr. Ilori then called Nimota Kelani, Sabitu’s neighbour. Nimota’s evidence was straightforward. She informed the court that on hearing the alarm raised by Sabitu to the effect that Ejigbadero had killed Raji Oba, she dashed out of her house. She also saw Ejigbadero running away towards the bush. She saw him clearly in the moonlight. She also called on the accused telling him that she saw him and reminded him that he had kept his promise to kill Raji.

Rafiu Latifu was another witness called by the learned DPP. Latifu testified that on the evening of August 22, he was returning to the village when he saw a white Peugot 504 station wagon parked by the side of a mosque a distance of two minutes to the house of Raji Oba. He also saw Ejigbadero and six other persons, one of whom was a woman, run out of a nearby bush towards the parked car.

On arrival at the premises of Raji Oba he met people who told him that Ejigbadero had killed the deceased, who was still lying on the ground and bleeding from the head. Latifu then told the people that he had seen Ejigbadero and six other persons running out of the bush but did not know at the time that he had already killed Raji.

It was at this point that Ejigbadero began to doubt his defence. Awodi oke ko mo pe ara ile n wo ohun. Like the hawk he had assumed that he was invisible to the people below. If he had known how diligent the DPP, Mr. Omotunde Ilori was, perhaps he would not have been too confident with his alibi. Ha! You don’t know ‘alibi’? It’s a Latin word. It means ‘elsewhere’. It is a piece of evidence that one was elsewhere when an act, typically a criminal one, is alleged to have taken place. I hope you are following me.

There was a policeman who was riding a bike that night who also recognized him. Remember I told you that Ejigbadero was as popular as Iya Agba’s aso onisuga. Aso onisuga was very common in the 60s and 70s. The design on it was in the shape of a cube. Just like a cube of sugar, hence the name. Ilori found the police officer. Ilori also found two women who saw Ejigbadero when they were coming from the farm with firewood on their head. Immediately they saw him, they ran into the bush.

Ejigbadero’s defence was straightforward. He was in Mushin on August 22. He didn’t step out of his house. He had witnesses who were eminent people in the society.  He called Bashiru Ajape, a police officer; Jacob Oyelakin, a Manager with Leventis Motors; and Emmanuel George, a lawyer. They all testified that they were with Baba Gani at his baby’s naming ceremony that day. The court considered the evidence of these eminent personalities and found each of them to be ‘miserably untruthful in the evidence they gave’.

Tried as much as he could, Gbadero could not disprove the testimonies of the prosecution witnesses. The best cross-examination failed to crack the witnesses. They were all adamant. It was Ejigbadero that they saw that night. It was Ejigbadero that killed Raji Oba.

The trial judge took his time to review the case for the prosecution as well as the case for the defence. A life was at stake and mistake must not be made. The judge found the evidence of a security guard in the employment of Ejigbadero helpful. Kehinde Yekinni was the security guard employed to guard Ishola’s factory. He testified that Ejigbadero came to the factory in the evening and later left for Alimosho with Modina, Osadebey, Isiaka, Bakare, Wahab Oduntan, and Lukman. The group later returned to meet him at the factory around 9pm. On their return, Ejigbadero drew out a gun from underneath his trousers and told Kehinde that he (Ishola) had killed the man that Kehinde refused to kill.

In the end, the judge found that Mr. Ilori had proved the case for prosecution beyond reasonable doubt. Jimoh Ishola was found guilty on the two counts: conspiracy to murder and murder.

He was sentenced to death. As the trial judge pronounced the sentence of death on him, Ejigbadero turned to his counsel and in his Ibadan accent asked, turning his nose to indicate His Lordship: “Emi ni n wi?” What was the Judge saying?

Jimoh Ishola appealed the judgment to the then Federal Court of Appeal. My Lords: Mamman Nasir, Adetunji Ogunkeye and Ijoma Aseme considered his appeal. His appeal in respect of Count One (conspiracy to murder) was allowed, meaning he was not guilty of that charge. His appeal in respect of the second count failed and the appellate court affirmed his conviction.

This time around, Ejigbadero did not bother to ask his counsel what their Lordships were saying. He had spent enough time in court to know the meaning of ‘Appeal is hereby dismissed.’

Off to the Supreme Court. His case was the 7thcase filed in the Supreme Court in 1977. On Thursday, October 26, 1978, a panel of the Supreme Court comprising My Lords: Alexander, Fatai-Williams, Irikefe, Bello and Idigbe  affirmed his conviction and dismissed his appeal.

In 1979, four years after the gruesome murder of Raji Oba, Jimoh Ishola, alias Ejigbadero, alias the Chairman,  alias Kininun Baba Moradewun paid the supreme price.

What a price to pay for a piece of land!
Authored by : Olanrewaju Onigegewura is a legal practitioner and an amateur historian

______________________________________________
Follow us on Twitter at @TheWailersNG

Story of a land grabber EJIGBADERO VS RAJI OBA

As you go from Iyana Ipaja to Egbeda in Alimosho, Lagos State, Raji Oba Street is to your left. It is one of the most popular streets in the area. It is the street that hosts the imposing complex of Bishop David Oyedepo’s Winner Chapel. There is a branch of Diamond Bank close to Moshalasi Bus Stop that leads to the street. It is a street that you can’t miss. Ha! You know the street? I told you it’s a street you can’t miss.

However in the 1970s when this true-life story began, there was no Raji Oba Street. There was no Winner Chapel building. There was no Diamond Bank. In fact, almost all of what is now one of the most densely populated areas in Lagos State was a forest. Except for some rural settlements scattered here and there, the entire Alimosho was a village.

So who was Raji Oba? Why was the street named after him? Is there a story behind the naming of the street after him? What happened that fateful night in 1975? You know you cannot make eba without garri? To tell you the story of Raji Oba, I must tell you the story of Ejigbadero.

Raji Oba’s story is Ejigbadero’s story. Ejigbade’s story is Raji Oba’s story. It was a story that shook the entire Lagos State to its foundation. My uncle who was then a young surveyor  told me that for years, some people were scared of going to the area once it was nightfall. Today, Onigegewura brings you the story of  Kiniun Baba Moradewun! Lion of Mushin! Jimoh Ishola Adeyemi!  Ejigbadero! Gbadero! The Chairman!

Jimoh Ishola was arguably one of the famous people in Lagos of 1960s and 1970s. He was rich. He was streetwise. He was known. He was connected. He was the darling of musicians of the day. One of the surest ways to launch a musical career then was to sing about Ejigbadero. Yusuf Olatunji (Baba Legba) devoted substantial part of his Volume 19 to sing his praises. Baba Commander, Ebenezer Obey and his Inter Reformers Band, celebrated him in his 1974 album.

If Nigeria was not under military rule in 1970s, Jimoh Ishola could have contested and won an elective political position. He was that famous.

Though Ejigbadero was not born in Lagos, he became the unofficial Lord Mayor of Lagos metropolis. Jimoh hailed from Oja-Oba Quarters in Ibadan, Oyo State. He came with his uncle to Lagos as a young man to learn a vocation. On his arrival Lagos, he quickly graduated from an apprentice to a company owner.

When he incorporated his company, Jimsol Nigeria Limited, he was not satisfied with just being called the Managing Director. Everybody in Lagos was MD. Gbadero must be different. He styled himself the Chairman and Chief Executive of the nail manufacturing company. His  office and factory were at Matori in Mushin Lagos. Yusuf Olatunji was the musician invited to the company’s opening. With his sákárà andmóló vibrating in the background, Baba Legba praised Gbadero to the high heavens. Overnight,Olatunji’s throaty “Gbadero Ishola di Chairman! Omo Adeyemi!” became the national anthem. Ejigbadero was the Chairman.

Nail manufacturing was however not Ishola’s only vocation. Over the years, Kiniun Baba Moradewun had acquired reputation as a dealer in landed properties. He bought land. He sold houses. If you needed someone to protect your landed interests, Ejigbadero was your man. If someone forcefully took over your land, Abibatu’s husband was your best bet. If your own interest was to take over someone’s land, Baba Gani was the person you needed to see.

Ejigbadero was known to the police. He was familiar to the judges as a perennial litigant. And one curious thing about his court appearances is that he was never a plaintiff. He was always the defendant. He was popular with lawyers. At a point, he was reputed to know the criminal code more than some lawyers. He used to ‘advise’ his lawyer to cite section 45 subsection 3 instead of section 33 subsection 1 that the lawyer wanted to cite.  He had done enough cases to make him a Senior Advocate if he was called to the Bar.

In 1975, Ejigbadero went with his boys to clear his land in Alimosho Village. The land was full of cocoa and kolanut trees. Remember I told you that Alimosho was a village in 1970s.   The land we are talking about is not one plot or two plots. It was a vast area of land. When the villagers saw their economic trees going down, they challenged Jimoh Ishola and his boys. The Lord Mayor informed the villagers that he had purchased the land in 1970s. Purchased? Which Land? From whom? For how much? Who witnessed the transaction? Who collected the money? These and more were the questions the villagers were throwing at Ejigbadero who was calmly leaning on his walking stick.

The villagers refused to allow Eji and his boys to continue to work on the land. The Boys looked at their Boss. They were waiting for the signal. The walking stick was the signal. This was not the first time they would be challenged over a parcel of land and they knew it wouldn’t be the last. They knew that once Ejigbadero stepped on any land, the land must become his. Eji was like a snail. Ìgbín tenu mo igi o gun! Any tree a snail touches must be climbed. Eji smiled at the crowd. It was not a friendly smile.  The Boys looked expectant. Instead of Eji to raise the walking stick, he turned back. The Boys followed him, their disappointment was apparent.

The villagers shouted after the retreating figures. “We don win! We don win. You think you can just take our land like that. Never! Never!” Some of them were however not shouting. They knew that the retreat of Ejigbadero was not a surrender. They knew that he would be back. The Chairman was not the one to run away from a fight. The Boss was a vulture, a patient bird.

They remember what happened to Okuwobi in 1962. Ejigbadero had informed his boys that he was looking for a buyer for one of his properties. He promised them generous commission. The boys went to town. Okuwobi indicated interest in the building. It was a building under construction. Okuwobi paid part of the agreed purchase price. It was agreed that the balance would be paid upon completion.

Okuwobi collected receipt and began to dream of becoming a landlord in Lagos. He was considering whether to paint the house blue or grey. Or green, or cream. He finally decided on white. He had heard that the official residence of the American president was White House.  It was then that a friend told him that the house, his house, had been sold to someone else. Okuwobi didn’t know whether he walked or flew to Mushin. He shouted. He threatened. Ejigbadero was unmoved. Okuwobi reported to the police. He was advised to go to court. He spent more than 10 years in court.

The villagers knew that they must act fast if they didn’t want to spend 10 years in court. At the time, the nearest police post was at Agege. They went to Agege Police Station to make a report of malicious damages to property against Ejigbadero. As they were writing their statements, the Chairman himself appeared with his boys. He had come to lodge a report of trespass against the villagers who entered his property without his permission. The police officers were confused. They attempted to broker a peaceful settlement. No way. Ejigbadero wanted his land. The villagers wanted their land. Who then was the owner of the land?

Police assured the warring parties that the case would be investigated. They were asked to go and maintain peace.

Raji Oba was one of the villagers. He was as brave as he was vocal. He was not afraid of Ejigbadero and he told him to his face. Even when Ejigbadero threatened to kill him, the threat was met with a sneer. “Igbá ni won n pa, enikan kii pa àwo” was his retort. He was confident that only calabash could be smashed with foot, no one would dare drop a plate.

Police investigation or no police investigation, Ejigbadero was not the one to keep away from the land. Raji Oba had finished work on the farm for the day. He was almost at home when he was informed that the Chairman was around with his thugs who he usually described as his workers. Raji turned back. Ma fi oko mi se ona, ojo kan ni a n dekun re. Raji was determined that he was going to stop the land grabber that day. He was followed by some of the villagers who had also heard the news.

They met Ejigbadero on the land. His boys were cutting cocoa trees with ruthless determination. Kolanut trees were not being spared either. Raji Oba flared up. A big fight erupted. Ejigbadero stood like a rock. He was commanding his boys to give it to the villagers like an army general. In the free-for-all that followed, Ejigbadero saw his chance as Raji Oba moved close to him. In a moment he had stabbed him. Raji didn’t see the dagger, but he felt the blood flowing from his eyebrow. It was clear that Jimoh Ishola was aiming for his eye. “Mo ku o!” The villagers heard the agony in the voice of their leader and rushed to his aid.

They took him to the hospital and from there to the police station. They made a report of criminal assault and attempted murder against Ishola. Police promised diligent investigation. But it appeared to the villagers that the police at Agege belonged to the Lion of Mushin.

Back at his base in Mushin, Ejigbadero was not happy. He had expected the villagers to put up the usual feeble resistance. He had planned how to subdue them.  After all, ‘ibeji kii se akopa aje’. Killing twins is not a new thing to a witch. But he had not expected the stiff opposition he met in Alimosho. He knew the cause of the problem. It was Raji Oba. What type of Oba was he that he would stop Ejigbadero, Kiniun Baba Moradewun?

“Baba Fatai, your food is ready.” Ejigbadero looked up. It was his youngest wife, Ramota. Though he was not particularly hungry, he didn’t want to displease the pregnant woman. He told her to bring the food. At the sight of the expectant mother, an idea started to form in his mind. He smiled. Ramota thought her husband was enjoying the meal. She was pleased.

It was in the month of August 1975 that Lagos social circle heard the news it had been waiting. Ramota, Ejigbadero’s wife had put to bed. Socialites knew what to expect. It was going to be a grand occasion. It was going to be an assemblage of Lagos who’s who. It was going to be the party of the century. And it was a Friday! TGIF!

True to expectation, Ejigbadero didn’t spare any expenses for the naming ceremony.  Food was in excess. Wines replaced water. Musicians were competing with themselves on the bandstand. The blind requested to be led to the occasion. The lame crawled. Ejigbadero and his four wives were dressed in a manner befitting a king and his Oloris. They were a spectacle to behold.

Sabitu Oba was Raji Oba’s wife. She was coming back from the market when she saw Ejigbadero and his boys.  A woman was in their midst. She was shocked to see the Chairman. They had heard in the village that his wife had delivered a baby and that the day was the naming ceremony. She was wondering what type of man would leave his baby’s naming ceremony to come to the village. Well, that’s his business, she thought.

Sabitu quickened her pace. She needed to warn her husband of the presence of the chairman in the village. It was already dusk but the moon had appeared. It wouldn’t be nice for Raji to be roaming the village at such a time when Ejigbadero was around. She met her husband reclining in front of their house. She heaved a sigh of relief.

She informed her husband that Ejigbadero was in the village. Raji Oba was also surprised. He had heard that Ejigbadero was holding a lavish party that day in Mushin. So what was he doing in the village? And why did he choose to come to the village at dusk. “I hope he has not come to bury charms on the land!” His wife suggested.

She had hardly finished speaking when she heard an explosion. GBOAH! Raji Oba fell from his seat with a thud! Sabitu jumped in alarm! Raji had been shot in the head. The wounded man began to groan in pain. Blood was oozing from the wound.

Sabitu turned to the direction where the sound of the explosion had come from. Smoke from gunpowder was drifting up to the clear moonlight sky. She saw seven people running away towards a nearby bush. She distinctly recognized Ejigbadero. He was wearing a short sleeve shirt and trousers. He was holding a gun. He was at the rear of the fleeing people. Her temporary shock over, Sabitu shouted at the retreating figures: “Ejigbadero mo ri e o! Ara Abule! Ejigbadero ti pa mi loko o!”

Back in Mushin, the naming party was in full swing! Ejigbadero was moving from table to table, exchanging banters with his friends and well-wishers. Remember I told you that Ejigbadero was well connected in the society. His guests that night included magistrates, lawyers, police officers and leading journalists of the day. Camera bulbs were flashing as Ejigbadero posed for photographs with his guests. It was a party that Mushin would remember for a long time.

Police officers in Agege were already familiar with Alimosho villagers. There was hardly a week that they would not come to the station to report one incident or another. On the evening of August 22, 1975, the police officers on duty heard the crowd from a distance. Alimosho people have come again! What has happened again? The officers wondered.

“Ejigbadero ti pa Raji o!”

The officers knew that Yoruba language was full of hyperbolic expressions. A mere tap on the cheek could lead to a shout of ‘Mo ku o! O ti pa mi o!” They were however shocked when they realized that Raji had actually been killed. This was not a case of Mo gbe! Mo ku! Mo daran! The villagers were unanimous that it was Ejigbadero that killed Raji.

Ejigbadero was in company of late party guests in his house when the police came. He was informed that his attention was needed at their station. He was wanted in connection with the murder of Raji Oba. Ejigbadero’s visitors did not allow him to speak before they jumped to his defence! “When? Where? Ejigbadero who did not step out of  this Mushin throughout yesterday!”

The Lion of Mushin was confident of himself. His defence was as solid as a rock. His alibi was incontrovertible. He had judges, lawyers, police officers and journalists as his witnesses. What more could he want? He retained Chief Sobo Sowemimo, a highly experienced advocate, as his counsel. His case was good. He knew. On the other side was the Lagos State Director of Public Prosecution, Mr. Omotunde Ilori.

As the prosecution began its case, Ejigbadero was becoming rather impatient. He knew the trial was going to be a waste of his time. Mr. Ilori called Sabitu Oba to the witness box. She narrated the event of the day. Ishola was smiling throughout her testimony. Who would believe the testimony of a village woman?

Mr. Ilori then called Nimota Kelani, Sabitu’s neighbour. Nimota’s evidence was straightforward. She informed the court that on hearing the alarm raised by Sabitu to the effect that Ejigbadero had killed Raji Oba, she dashed out of her house. She also saw Ejigbadero running away towards the bush. She saw him clearly in the moonlight. She also called on the accused telling him that she saw him and reminded him that he had kept his promise to kill Raji.

Rafiu Latifu was another witness called by the learned DPP. Latifu testified that on the evening of August 22, he was returning to the village when he saw a white Peugot 504 station wagon parked by the side of a mosque a distance of two minutes to the house of Raji Oba. He also saw Ejigbadero and six other persons, one of whom was a woman, run out of a nearby bush towards the parked car.

On arrival at the premises of Raji Oba he met people who told him that Ejigbadero had killed the deceased, who was still lying on the ground and bleeding from the head. Latifu then told the people that he had seen Ejigbadero and six other persons running out of the bush but did not know at the time that he had already killed Raji.

It was at this point that Ejigbadero began to doubt his defence. Awodi oke ko mo pe ara ile n wo ohun. Like the hawk he had assumed that he was invisible to the people below. If he had known how diligent the DPP, Mr. Omotunde Ilori was, perhaps he would not have been too confident with his alibi. Ha! You don’t know ‘alibi’? It’s a Latin word. It means ‘elsewhere’. It is a piece of evidence that one was elsewhere when an act, typically a criminal one, is alleged to have taken place. I hope you are following me.

There was a policeman who was riding a bike that night who also recognized him. Remember I told you that Ejigbadero was as popular as Iya Agba’s aso onisuga. Aso onisuga was very common in the 60s and 70s. The design on it was in the shape of a cube. Just like a cube of sugar, hence the name. Ilori found the police officer. Ilori also found two women who saw Ejigbadero when they were coming from the farm with firewood on their head. Immediately they saw him, they ran into the bush.

Ejigbadero’s defence was straightforward. He was in Mushin on August 22. He didn’t step out of his house. He had witnesses who were eminent people in the society.  He called Bashiru Ajape, a police officer; Jacob Oyelakin, a Manager with Leventis Motors; and Emmanuel George, a lawyer. They all testified that they were with Baba Gani at his baby’s naming ceremony that day. The court considered the evidence of these eminent personalities and found each of them to be ‘miserably untruthful in the evidence they gave’.

Tried as much as he could, Gbadero could not disprove the testimonies of the prosecution witnesses. The best cross-examination failed to crack the witnesses. They were all adamant. It was Ejigbadero that they saw that night. It was Ejigbadero that killed Raji Oba.

The trial judge took his time to review the case for the prosecution as well as the case for the defence. A life was at stake and mistake must not be made. The judge found the evidence of a security guard in the employment of Ejigbadero helpful. Kehinde Yekinni was the security guard employed to guard Ishola’s factory. He testified that Ejigbadero came to the factory in the evening and later left for Alimosho with Modina, Osadebey, Isiaka, Bakare, Wahab Oduntan, and Lukman. The group later returned to meet him at the factory around 9pm. On their return, Ejigbadero drew out a gun from underneath his trousers and told Kehinde that he (Ishola) had killed the man that Kehinde refused to kill.

In the end, the judge found that Mr. Ilori had proved the case for prosecution beyond reasonable doubt. Jimoh Ishola was found guilty on the two counts: conspiracy to murder and murder.

He was sentenced to death. As the trial judge pronounced the sentence of death on him, Ejigbadero turned to his counsel and in his Ibadan accent asked, turning his nose to indicate His Lordship: “Emi ni n wi?” What was the Judge saying?

Jimoh Ishola appealed the judgment to the then Federal Court of Appeal. My Lords: Mamman Nasir, Adetunji Ogunkeye and Ijoma Aseme considered his appeal. His appeal in respect of Count One (conspiracy to murder) was allowed, meaning he was not guilty of that charge. His appeal in respect of the second count failed and the appellate court affirmed his conviction.

This time around, Ejigbadero did not bother to ask his counsel what their Lordships were saying. He had spent enough time in court to know the meaning of ‘Appeal is hereby dismissed.’

Off to the Supreme Court. His case was the 7thcase filed in the Supreme Court in 1977. On Thursday, October 26, 1978, a panel of the Supreme Court comprising My Lords: Alexander, Fatai-Williams, Irikefe, Bello and Idigbe  affirmed his conviction and dismissed his appeal.

In 1979, four years after the gruesome murder of Raji Oba, Jimoh Ishola, alias Ejigbadero, alias the Chairman,  alias Kininun Baba Moradewun paid the supreme price.

What a price to pay for a piece of land!
Authored by : Olanrewaju Onigegewura is a legal practitioner and an amateur historian

______________________________________________
Follow us on Twitter at @TheWailersNG

Story of a land grabber EJIGBADERO VS RAJI OBA

As you go from Iyana Ipaja to Egbeda in Alimosho, Lagos State, Raji Oba Street is to your left. It is one of the most popular streets in the area. It is the street that hosts the imposing complex of Bishop David Oyedepo’s Winner Chapel. There is a branch of Diamond Bank close to Moshalasi Bus Stop that leads to the street. It is a street that you can’t miss. Ha! You know the street? I told you it’s a street you can’t miss.

However in the 1970s when this true-life story began, there was no Raji Oba Street. There was no Winner Chapel building. There was no Diamond Bank. In fact, almost all of what is now one of the most densely populated areas in Lagos State was a forest. Except for some rural settlements scattered here and there, the entire Alimosho was a village.

So who was Raji Oba? Why was the street named after him? Is there a story behind the naming of the street after him? What happened that fateful night in 1975? You know you cannot make eba without garri? To tell you the story of Raji Oba, I must tell you the story of Ejigbadero.

Raji Oba’s story is Ejigbadero’s story. Ejigbade’s story is Raji Oba’s story. It was a story that shook the entire Lagos State to its foundation. My uncle who was then a young surveyor  told me that for years, some people were scared of going to the area once it was nightfall. Today, Onigegewura brings you the story of  Kiniun Baba Moradewun! Lion of Mushin! Jimoh Ishola Adeyemi!  Ejigbadero! Gbadero! The Chairman!

Jimoh Ishola was arguably one of the famous people in Lagos of 1960s and 1970s. He was rich. He was streetwise. He was known. He was connected. He was the darling of musicians of the day. One of the surest ways to launch a musical career then was to sing about Ejigbadero. Yusuf Olatunji (Baba Legba) devoted substantial part of his Volume 19 to sing his praises. Baba Commander, Ebenezer Obey and his Inter Reformers Band, celebrated him in his 1974 album.

If Nigeria was not under military rule in 1970s, Jimoh Ishola could have contested and won an elective political position. He was that famous.

Though Ejigbadero was not born in Lagos, he became the unofficial Lord Mayor of Lagos metropolis. Jimoh hailed from Oja-Oba Quarters in Ibadan, Oyo State. He came with his uncle to Lagos as a young man to learn a vocation. On his arrival Lagos, he quickly graduated from an apprentice to a company owner.

When he incorporated his company, Jimsol Nigeria Limited, he was not satisfied with just being called the Managing Director. Everybody in Lagos was MD. Gbadero must be different. He styled himself the Chairman and Chief Executive of the nail manufacturing company. His  office and factory were at Matori in Mushin Lagos. Yusuf Olatunji was the musician invited to the company’s opening. With his sákárà andmóló vibrating in the background, Baba Legba praised Gbadero to the high heavens. Overnight,Olatunji’s throaty “Gbadero Ishola di Chairman! Omo Adeyemi!” became the national anthem. Ejigbadero was the Chairman.

Nail manufacturing was however not Ishola’s only vocation. Over the years, Kiniun Baba Moradewun had acquired reputation as a dealer in landed properties. He bought land. He sold houses. If you needed someone to protect your landed interests, Ejigbadero was your man. If someone forcefully took over your land, Abibatu’s husband was your best bet. If your own interest was to take over someone’s land, Baba Gani was the person you needed to see.

Ejigbadero was known to the police. He was familiar to the judges as a perennial litigant. And one curious thing about his court appearances is that he was never a plaintiff. He was always the defendant. He was popular with lawyers. At a point, he was reputed to know the criminal code more than some lawyers. He used to ‘advise’ his lawyer to cite section 45 subsection 3 instead of section 33 subsection 1 that the lawyer wanted to cite.  He had done enough cases to make him a Senior Advocate if he was called to the Bar.

In 1975, Ejigbadero went with his boys to clear his land in Alimosho Village. The land was full of cocoa and kolanut trees. Remember I told you that Alimosho was a village in 1970s.   The land we are talking about is not one plot or two plots. It was a vast area of land. When the villagers saw their economic trees going down, they challenged Jimoh Ishola and his boys. The Lord Mayor informed the villagers that he had purchased the land in 1970s. Purchased? Which Land? From whom? For how much? Who witnessed the transaction? Who collected the money? These and more were the questions the villagers were throwing at Ejigbadero who was calmly leaning on his walking stick.

The villagers refused to allow Eji and his boys to continue to work on the land. The Boys looked at their Boss. They were waiting for the signal. The walking stick was the signal. This was not the first time they would be challenged over a parcel of land and they knew it wouldn’t be the last. They knew that once Ejigbadero stepped on any land, the land must become his. Eji was like a snail. Ìgbín tenu mo igi o gun! Any tree a snail touches must be climbed. Eji smiled at the crowd. It was not a friendly smile.  The Boys looked expectant. Instead of Eji to raise the walking stick, he turned back. The Boys followed him, their disappointment was apparent.

The villagers shouted after the retreating figures. “We don win! We don win. You think you can just take our land like that. Never! Never!” Some of them were however not shouting. They knew that the retreat of Ejigbadero was not a surrender. They knew that he would be back. The Chairman was not the one to run away from a fight. The Boss was a vulture, a patient bird.

They remember what happened to Okuwobi in 1962. Ejigbadero had informed his boys that he was looking for a buyer for one of his properties. He promised them generous commission. The boys went to town. Okuwobi indicated interest in the building. It was a building under construction. Okuwobi paid part of the agreed purchase price. It was agreed that the balance would be paid upon completion.

Okuwobi collected receipt and began to dream of becoming a landlord in Lagos. He was considering whether to paint the house blue or grey. Or green, or cream. He finally decided on white. He had heard that the official residence of the American president was White House.  It was then that a friend told him that the house, his house, had been sold to someone else. Okuwobi didn’t know whether he walked or flew to Mushin. He shouted. He threatened. Ejigbadero was unmoved. Okuwobi reported to the police. He was advised to go to court. He spent more than 10 years in court.

The villagers knew that they must act fast if they didn’t want to spend 10 years in court. At the time, the nearest police post was at Agege. They went to Agege Police Station to make a report of malicious damages to property against Ejigbadero. As they were writing their statements, the Chairman himself appeared with his boys. He had come to lodge a report of trespass against the villagers who entered his property without his permission. The police officers were confused. They attempted to broker a peaceful settlement. No way. Ejigbadero wanted his land. The villagers wanted their land. Who then was the owner of the land?

Police assured the warring parties that the case would be investigated. They were asked to go and maintain peace.

Raji Oba was one of the villagers. He was as brave as he was vocal. He was not afraid of Ejigbadero and he told him to his face. Even when Ejigbadero threatened to kill him, the threat was met with a sneer. “Igbá ni won n pa, enikan kii pa àwo” was his retort. He was confident that only calabash could be smashed with foot, no one would dare drop a plate.

Police investigation or no police investigation, Ejigbadero was not the one to keep away from the land. Raji Oba had finished work on the farm for the day. He was almost at home when he was informed that the Chairman was around with his thugs who he usually described as his workers. Raji turned back. Ma fi oko mi se ona, ojo kan ni a n dekun re. Raji was determined that he was going to stop the land grabber that day. He was followed by some of the villagers who had also heard the news.

They met Ejigbadero on the land. His boys were cutting cocoa trees with ruthless determination. Kolanut trees were not being spared either. Raji Oba flared up. A big fight erupted. Ejigbadero stood like a rock. He was commanding his boys to give it to the villagers like an army general. In the free-for-all that followed, Ejigbadero saw his chance as Raji Oba moved close to him. In a moment he had stabbed him. Raji didn’t see the dagger, but he felt the blood flowing from his eyebrow. It was clear that Jimoh Ishola was aiming for his eye. “Mo ku o!” The villagers heard the agony in the voice of their leader and rushed to his aid.

They took him to the hospital and from there to the police station. They made a report of criminal assault and attempted murder against Ishola. Police promised diligent investigation. But it appeared to the villagers that the police at Agege belonged to the Lion of Mushin.

Back at his base in Mushin, Ejigbadero was not happy. He had expected the villagers to put up the usual feeble resistance. He had planned how to subdue them.  After all, ‘ibeji kii se akopa aje’. Killing twins is not a new thing to a witch. But he had not expected the stiff opposition he met in Alimosho. He knew the cause of the problem. It was Raji Oba. What type of Oba was he that he would stop Ejigbadero, Kiniun Baba Moradewun?

“Baba Fatai, your food is ready.” Ejigbadero looked up. It was his youngest wife, Ramota. Though he was not particularly hungry, he didn’t want to displease the pregnant woman. He told her to bring the food. At the sight of the expectant mother, an idea started to form in his mind. He smiled. Ramota thought her husband was enjoying the meal. She was pleased.

It was in the month of August 1975 that Lagos social circle heard the news it had been waiting. Ramota, Ejigbadero’s wife had put to bed. Socialites knew what to expect. It was going to be a grand occasion. It was going to be an assemblage of Lagos who’s who. It was going to be the party of the century. And it was a Friday! TGIF!

True to expectation, Ejigbadero didn’t spare any expenses for the naming ceremony.  Food was in excess. Wines replaced water. Musicians were competing with themselves on the bandstand. The blind requested to be led to the occasion. The lame crawled. Ejigbadero and his four wives were dressed in a manner befitting a king and his Oloris. They were a spectacle to behold.

Sabitu Oba was Raji Oba’s wife. She was coming back from the market when she saw Ejigbadero and his boys.  A woman was in their midst. She was shocked to see the Chairman. They had heard in the village that his wife had delivered a baby and that the day was the naming ceremony. She was wondering what type of man would leave his baby’s naming ceremony to come to the village. Well, that’s his business, she thought.

Sabitu quickened her pace. She needed to warn her husband of the presence of the chairman in the village. It was already dusk but the moon had appeared. It wouldn’t be nice for Raji to be roaming the village at such a time when Ejigbadero was around. She met her husband reclining in front of their house. She heaved a sigh of relief.

She informed her husband that Ejigbadero was in the village. Raji Oba was also surprised. He had heard that Ejigbadero was holding a lavish party that day in Mushin. So what was he doing in the village? And why did he choose to come to the village at dusk. “I hope he has not come to bury charms on the land!” His wife suggested.

She had hardly finished speaking when she heard an explosion. GBOAH! Raji Oba fell from his seat with a thud! Sabitu jumped in alarm! Raji had been shot in the head. The wounded man began to groan in pain. Blood was oozing from the wound.

Sabitu turned to the direction where the sound of the explosion had come from. Smoke from gunpowder was drifting up to the clear moonlight sky. She saw seven people running away towards a nearby bush. She distinctly recognized Ejigbadero. He was wearing a short sleeve shirt and trousers. He was holding a gun. He was at the rear of the fleeing people. Her temporary shock over, Sabitu shouted at the retreating figures: “Ejigbadero mo ri e o! Ara Abule! Ejigbadero ti pa mi loko o!”

Back in Mushin, the naming party was in full swing! Ejigbadero was moving from table to table, exchanging banters with his friends and well-wishers. Remember I told you that Ejigbadero was well connected in the society. His guests that night included magistrates, lawyers, police officers and leading journalists of the day. Camera bulbs were flashing as Ejigbadero posed for photographs with his guests. It was a party that Mushin would remember for a long time.

Police officers in Agege were already familiar with Alimosho villagers. There was hardly a week that they would not come to the station to report one incident or another. On the evening of August 22, 1975, the police officers on duty heard the crowd from a distance. Alimosho people have come again! What has happened again? The officers wondered.

“Ejigbadero ti pa Raji o!”

The officers knew that Yoruba language was full of hyperbolic expressions. A mere tap on the cheek could lead to a shout of ‘Mo ku o! O ti pa mi o!” They were however shocked when they realized that Raji had actually been killed. This was not a case of Mo gbe! Mo ku! Mo daran! The villagers were unanimous that it was Ejigbadero that killed Raji.

Ejigbadero was in company of late party guests in his house when the police came. He was informed that his attention was needed at their station. He was wanted in connection with the murder of Raji Oba. Ejigbadero’s visitors did not allow him to speak before they jumped to his defence! “When? Where? Ejigbadero who did not step out of  this Mushin throughout yesterday!”

The Lion of Mushin was confident of himself. His defence was as solid as a rock. His alibi was incontrovertible. He had judges, lawyers, police officers and journalists as his witnesses. What more could he want? He retained Chief Sobo Sowemimo, a highly experienced advocate, as his counsel. His case was good. He knew. On the other side was the Lagos State Director of Public Prosecution, Mr. Omotunde Ilori.

As the prosecution began its case, Ejigbadero was becoming rather impatient. He knew the trial was going to be a waste of his time. Mr. Ilori called Sabitu Oba to the witness box. She narrated the event of the day. Ishola was smiling throughout her testimony. Who would believe the testimony of a village woman?

Mr. Ilori then called Nimota Kelani, Sabitu’s neighbour. Nimota’s evidence was straightforward. She informed the court that on hearing the alarm raised by Sabitu to the effect that Ejigbadero had killed Raji Oba, she dashed out of her house. She also saw Ejigbadero running away towards the bush. She saw him clearly in the moonlight. She also called on the accused telling him that she saw him and reminded him that he had kept his promise to kill Raji.

Rafiu Latifu was another witness called by the learned DPP. Latifu testified that on the evening of August 22, he was returning to the village when he saw a white Peugot 504 station wagon parked by the side of a mosque a distance of two minutes to the house of Raji Oba. He also saw Ejigbadero and six other persons, one of whom was a woman, run out of a nearby bush towards the parked car.

On arrival at the premises of Raji Oba he met people who told him that Ejigbadero had killed the deceased, who was still lying on the ground and bleeding from the head. Latifu then told the people that he had seen Ejigbadero and six other persons running out of the bush but did not know at the time that he had already killed Raji.

It was at this point that Ejigbadero began to doubt his defence. Awodi oke ko mo pe ara ile n wo ohun. Like the hawk he had assumed that he was invisible to the people below. If he had known how diligent the DPP, Mr. Omotunde Ilori was, perhaps he would not have been too confident with his alibi. Ha! You don’t know ‘alibi’? It’s a Latin word. It means ‘elsewhere’. It is a piece of evidence that one was elsewhere when an act, typically a criminal one, is alleged to have taken place. I hope you are following me.

There was a policeman who was riding a bike that night who also recognized him. Remember I told you that Ejigbadero was as popular as Iya Agba’s aso onisuga. Aso onisuga was very common in the 60s and 70s. The design on it was in the shape of a cube. Just like a cube of sugar, hence the name. Ilori found the police officer. Ilori also found two women who saw Ejigbadero when they were coming from the farm with firewood on their head. Immediately they saw him, they ran into the bush.

Ejigbadero’s defence was straightforward. He was in Mushin on August 22. He didn’t step out of his house. He had witnesses who were eminent people in the society.  He called Bashiru Ajape, a police officer; Jacob Oyelakin, a Manager with Leventis Motors; and Emmanuel George, a lawyer. They all testified that they were with Baba Gani at his baby’s naming ceremony that day. The court considered the evidence of these eminent personalities and found each of them to be ‘miserably untruthful in the evidence they gave’.

Tried as much as he could, Gbadero could not disprove the testimonies of the prosecution witnesses. The best cross-examination failed to crack the witnesses. They were all adamant. It was Ejigbadero that they saw that night. It was Ejigbadero that killed Raji Oba.

The trial judge took his time to review the case for the prosecution as well as the case for the defence. A life was at stake and mistake must not be made. The judge found the evidence of a security guard in the employment of Ejigbadero helpful. Kehinde Yekinni was the security guard employed to guard Ishola’s factory. He testified that Ejigbadero came to the factory in the evening and later left for Alimosho with Modina, Osadebey, Isiaka, Bakare, Wahab Oduntan, and Lukman. The group later returned to meet him at the factory around 9pm. On their return, Ejigbadero drew out a gun from underneath his trousers and told Kehinde that he (Ishola) had killed the man that Kehinde refused to kill.

In the end, the judge found that Mr. Ilori had proved the case for prosecution beyond reasonable doubt. Jimoh Ishola was found guilty on the two counts: conspiracy to murder and murder.

He was sentenced to death. As the trial judge pronounced the sentence of death on him, Ejigbadero turned to his counsel and in his Ibadan accent asked, turning his nose to indicate His Lordship: “Emi ni n wi?” What was the Judge saying?

Jimoh Ishola appealed the judgment to the then Federal Court of Appeal. My Lords: Mamman Nasir, Adetunji Ogunkeye and Ijoma Aseme considered his appeal. His appeal in respect of Count One (conspiracy to murder) was allowed, meaning he was not guilty of that charge. His appeal in respect of the second count failed and the appellate court affirmed his conviction.

This time around, Ejigbadero did not bother to ask his counsel what their Lordships were saying. He had spent enough time in court to know the meaning of ‘Appeal is hereby dismissed.’

Off to the Supreme Court. His case was the 7thcase filed in the Supreme Court in 1977. On Thursday, October 26, 1978, a panel of the Supreme Court comprising My Lords: Alexander, Fatai-Williams, Irikefe, Bello and Idigbe  affirmed his conviction and dismissed his appeal.

In 1979, four years after the gruesome murder of Raji Oba, Jimoh Ishola, alias Ejigbadero, alias the Chairman,  alias Kininun Baba Moradewun paid the supreme price.

What a price to pay for a piece of land!
Authored by : Olanrewaju Onigegewura is a legal practitioner and an amateur historian

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