Adieu Yomexy, Dearest of Friends: A Tribute and Reflections
In a few hours’ time, the body of Àbáyòmí Ilésanmí Àlùkò will
lie in state at the Ilawe-Ekiti headquarters of the Ekiti South-West Local
Government Area, his last duty post as a senior staff of the Ekiti Local
Government Service Commission. Thereafter, my dearest friend’s remains will be
committed to Mother Earth. He died on 12 October. It would be the second year
in succession that I would lose a dear friend and comrade on that day. My
birthday. Last year, we lost Abiodun Aremu “Aremson” that same day. Whilst a
hit-and-run driver killed Aremu, the aftermath of a stroke he had suffered had
a hand in that, with dulled reflexes. A stroke was also the precursor of Yomi’s
death.
Over the last week and a half, my mind has been a maelstrom of
thoughts and feelings. Where do I start? How do I get to put some things into
words? It’s very difficult to unpack a lot of what I would have to say. I have
had quite a few great friends and wonderful comrades over the years. Not all
comrades are friends, and there are many friends who have never and would most
likely never become comrades. Friends, comrades – they will come, and many of
them will go as well. But few last with you as friends and comrades for decades
of one’s life.
Some comrades cross over to the other side. Some still lay
claim to being on the popular side, but they turn against the organisation
which once bound us. Lies, distortions and fabrications are used to spin their
abandoning ship, in my case of the Mayist tendency of International Socialism –
from the May 31st Movement to the Socialist Workers League, and
actually earlier, when I take into consideration the pre-Marxist phase of my
revolutionary life.
Yomi was part of four people who occupied a very special
place of continued presence, as long as they lived, in my political-personal
life, stretching back to my years as a young revolutionary in my teens and
early twenties. The first two were Femi “Rasta Paul” Olabisi and Femi “Dudusky”
Olatunji. As radical Pan-Africanists, we formed the African Liberation Movement
(ALM) in 1987 and entered tertiary schools with a mission – to search for like
minds to forge the movement and fight for the liberation of Nigeria and Africa
from the imperialist domination of USA and Co. Rasta Paul died on 5 February
2015. Dudusky died in December 2018. In both instances, the grim reaper had
also come clothed as an ischemic stroke. And now, Yomexy too.
My first in-depth personal interaction with Yomi at the University of Lagos was
when the 1992/93 session commenced. A mutual friend introduced him to me. They
were both second-year students in the economics department who were supporters
of our radical politics. Apart from being part of several a luta actions we
organised in 1991 and early 1992, they had also both participated in the weekly
political education sessions we organised as the League of Black Nationalists
(LBN). In addition, the friend who introduced me to Yomi to me had been in the
same room with Rasta Paul at El-Kanemi Hall during the 1991/92 session.
Yomi had a challenge with finding accommodation, so our
mutual friend asked if he could stay with me. I agreed and welcomed him to U304.
This was more than a room, my room. It was an open site of resistance and
counterculture within the great Makama Bida Hall with doors that were never
locked and yet no one would ordinarily dare enter to rob. The hall itself was
known as a powerhouse of radical politics. That was where Freedom Square was
located, the main rally ground for the students’ union mass congresses.
Yomi ended up staying with me for two sessions. With ASUU strikes and the June
12 struggle’s opening moments, this period lasted about three years. He became
an active member of our movement and was someone you could assign a task to and
be confident it would be done. I also came to respect him for his hustle with
dignity. Even as a student, he (and Lawani, a close friend of his at the time) would
travel to buy second-hand goods that they would sell at the Aswani market, to
make ends meet.
By his final year, Yomi moved to Henry Carr Hall. That was
also the year I served as the Speaker of the University of Lagos Students’
Union (ULSU). Yomi was appointed chair of the transport committee, the most strategic
and powerful of the standing committees of the student union parliament.
During this period, many of the campus shuttle drivers said
that they had not had a transport committee chair or speaker who had no care whatsoever
for money like us. We were driven by our ideas and concern to expand the movement
across campuses, rather than, as used to be customary, line our pockets with
the opportunities that the committee presented for those who were more keen on self-enrichment.
A couple of events that year revealed Yomi’s profound
personal loyalty and strict organisational discipline. A friend or two, whom
Yomi held in high regard and who had once been comrades with us, exerted
significant pressure on him to join a “Baba Aye must not emerge as speaker”
plot. That plot led to the elections for principal officers of the Parliament being
held twice. Yomi was clear that aligning with that agenda would be a betrayal of
both our relationship and the ideals that bound us. I must say here that this
is not to open old wounds. It simply constitutes a fragment of this moment’s
history. As time passed, many of the broken bonds healed.
During my tenure as speaker, intense political conflicts
erupted. The school management did everything possible to crush the movement so
they could incorporate the students’ union and, amongst other things, subtly
introduce fees. To the vice chancellor and his allies, fair was foul, and foul
was fair. It was war against the revolutionary bastion of resistance which we
represented. They pressured my parents to compel me to step down as speaker. Given
my history at the University of Ilorin and the pain my parents bore when I left
medical school there, they naturally followed the school management's advice.
One morning before 6:00 a.m., my dad arrived at U304. He woke me up and
insisted that we had to fight. If I could beat him, I could continue as
speaker; otherwise, I would have to resign that very morning. This was barely a
week after my dad had addressed a counter-rally whilst I was mobilising against
some of the school’s policies. I remember students singing to the effect that they
could see where Baba Aye got his activist spirit from. My dad’s position in all
these came from a place of love and frustration at the consequences of the path
I had chosen.
When he asked that we fight, I knew I had no option but to
do what he wanted i.e., resign. This wasn’t just because he had experience as
an amateur boxer; it was simply impossible for me to raise my hands against
him, when I no craze. So, I followed him to the student affairs office, where I
wrote and signed a brief resignation letter. I left campus that same day for Mushin,
where I stayed with a member of our movement who was Chair of the Association
of Classroom Teachers (ACT) in Mushin.
An acting speaker was elected by parliament the following day. He was not from
the movement. This was to have a broad base for the fightback at hand. However,
after the first sitting under his leadership, comrades in the movement felt uncomfortable.
There were signs of his succumbing to the entreaties of the management as the
executive members we had suspended had done. The need arose for someone
reliable from our folds who would also appeal to those not on the left, to hold
the fort. The group united behind choosing Yomi Aluko. He led a fightback
against the school’s arm-twisting that had led to my resignation. The school
authorities then grudgingly appealed to me to come back to the seat.
One of the most significant aspects of Yomi’s impact, which was shielded from
the public, and anyone that did not need to know, was his role as coordinator
of our intelligence network. That network had evolved from earlier efforts in
1991 with the likes of Rasta Paul, Segun Imanna, Sylvester Enaye, and Paul Omah,
when we established the Students’ Defense Militia (SDM). The SDM itself had
been drawn from the theses for building a Revolutionary Army of Liberation
(RALI), when we formed the May 31st Movement (M31M) at Ilorin in
1990/91. Similar structures to SDM were established as part of a network known
as the Revolutionary Action Command (RAC) or, Thorough and Tough (ToTo) as
inside comrades at its core called it, in the School of Oceanography, Federal
School of Radiography, University of Ilorin and Ebute Meta. We also had contacts
at Unijos, BUK, UNN and Zaria.
However, events between 1992 and 1994 showed that while the
Students’ Defense Militia was important, the greatest defense within campuses
was the organized mass of students. Much more crucial, as the influences of
several bodies within the studentry (outside the union movement) and on campus generally
kept growing, was the need for a solid intelligence network. Yomi, who was part
of the RAC network though not in its ToTo core, was perfect for coordinating
this for several reasons. He could blend in anywhere, and had a broad range of contacts.
It was in this role that he literally saved my life.
There were four attempts to have me eliminated whilst I was speaker. Three of
these could be traced to the vice chancellor. I got to know details of two of
these contracts more clearly only later, through friends at FCE(T) Akoka,
LACOED Ijanikin and OSU Ago-Iwoye where attempts were made to get “externals”
to do the dirty job to no avail. Of the two I knew of at the time, the pointsman
of the first came to me with the information and explained why they would not
do the job.
Omoyele Sowore had been attacked on Friday, 18 March 1994, by a combined body
of frat groups. The following day students went on a rampage, forcing the newly
elected students’ union executives (who were yet to be sworn-in) led by Malcolm
Fabiyi to take action. A large number of students ransacked the house of the
students' activity officer. A contingent of scores of students also torched the
house of a prominent newspaper publisher living in Akoka – close to the
university - whose son participated in the assault on Sowore. Within this
heated moment two prominent members of the group that was contacted two years
later with a contract for my head were spotted by students at “One In Town” a
hangout near campus. They were grabbed and brought to campus. In no time, tires were thrown around their necks;
they were stripped naked, and were about to be burned alive.
The anger of the students was intense. None of the students’
union leaders dared stand up to them to avoid being labelled. But I reasoned
that if these two persons were killed, it would be union leaders who would face
the consequences. A few years earlier at the Obafemi Awolowo University, Adeola
Soetan (President), Abbass “Self-pikin” (I think welfare secretary) and Anthony
Fashayo (a freshman in med school) were locked up for about nine months at Ilesha
prison after a frat man who attacked Soetan was killed by irate students. With
this at the back of my mind, I got into the fray and with my goodwill, even
though I had not held any office in ULSU at the time, I managed to convince the
incensed crowd of students to release the two of them to me and I took them to
the Lagos University Teaching Hospital (LUTH) with the students union bus. This
singular act was why the group they belonged to did not take the contract from
the vice-chancellor.
But things did not end there. If not for Yomi, I would have
been killed when another group came after me. It was not clear if this was also
tied to the vice chancellor. This was also when, as speaker, I had suspended
four key executives of the student union indefinitely, one of whom appeared to
belong to the colour that came for me.
It was during the first-semester examinations. Yomi arrived
at Makama Bida Hall around 8:30pm and told me something along the lines of, “Iree
Baba, I just gathered from a reliable source say dem go attack you tonight, dem don dey ground as we
dey talk —and the men who go carry out the hit be externals.” Moving out was
risky, as we didn’t know who was who. I went to U304, informed comrades, and advised
everyone to leave. The story of that night is another one I will tell someday.
The most important thing is that if Yomi had not shown up that night, I would
most likely have been killed.
Whilst the details of that day will have to wait for now, I
must also seize this opportunity to express my appreciation to Bunmi and the
late Yemi of Theatre 15. They shielded me that night, when someone I thought
was a good friend turned me out of his room out of fear. In fact, when I went
back to pick the notes I was to read for my exams the following morning that I
had forgotten in his room, he refused to put on the light and told me to please
hurry and waka as he no wan die.
Yomi moved back to Ekiti State after school. By the late ‘90s and early 2000s,
he started working at the Ekiti State Local Government Service Commission. Probably
his first main appointment was as the personal principal secretary to the Elekole
of Ikole-Ekiti, a first-class traditional ruler in the state. We saw each other
more often when I worked in Akure between 2001 and 2003. And when I got married
in December 2003, it was a no-brainer that Yomi would be my best man. I remember
the bachelor’s eve they organised for me at Ore. It was the last time all four
of my dearest/longest friends-cum-comrades would be together.
He also got married during that period, and I was there. After
starting a family, he became less politically active. He used to say he was
someone who committed fully and would thus face only one major thing at a time.
His focus going forward from then was raising his family.
He remained nominally involved with the movement. And we managed
to still drag him into more some extent of active involvement from time to time.
He participated at one of the SWL National Conventions held at the NUPENG IMB branch
secretariat in Ibadan, in the wake of the 2012 January Uprising. He was also mandated
to coordinate the SWL branch at Ekiti. He never got to put in the work that
required and this contributed to the collapse of the branch. But he never came
up with a spin to pin what he did or did not do on anyone or the organisation.
He was always brutally honest – even with himself, and acknowledged the
failing, pointing out that he had told me it would be difficult for him to anchor
other things beyond family and work (which he always said was for the family in
the first place).
The last time I saw Yomi was in December 2021. I was at Ado-Ekiti for my
younger brother’s wedding. Yomi was there with us. Thereafter, we went to hang
out for a few hours. But we kept in touch. We would regularly chat and call.
A few months ago, he gave me the good news that his first
daughter, Simisola, had graduated with a first class in biomedical technology,
and he hoped she could get a scholarship to pursue a PhD abroad. I reached out
to a few comrades, including a leading member of the SWL who used to teach at
the University of Southampton, without delay. But we could not get a
programme with assured scholarship for her.
Sometime earlier, he told me he had been having health issues related to high
blood pressure. I asked him, “Do you take your medications regularly?” He said
he used to, and I urged him to continue. But losing his younger Bimbo, in the
last week of August was a trigger. Whilst Bimbo had valiantly battled cancer
for about a decade, it still came as a shock to Yomi. Two days after, he had a
massive stroke. For weeks, he could not talk. I had video calls with Yinka, his
wife.
Seeing my friend starring away blankly was excruciating. But
we still held on to hope. Then his health seemed to improve. He started to
talk, albeit haltingly. After spending a month and a week in the hospital, he
was discharged on 8 October. But alas, around 3:30 PM on the 12th of October,
he took his last breath. My heart goes out to Yinka, and their children:
Simisola, Jadesola and Iyiola.
There are two things I would want to say, in concluding
these painful reflections and paying tribute as my last respect, before my friend is interred.
First, the dangers of non-communicable diseases are not only
real. They are becoming much more rampant. Losing friends and comrades
repeatedly to cancers, and especially – with those whose passage has
impacted on my more – cardiovascular ailments, hurts. We might not be able to
stop it all. But we can fight it. We can curb it – we must curb it. Please, especially for us now in our middle age, let’s
take action in whatever way we can. We owe it to those we have lost. We owe it
to those who are with us today and whom we love. And most importantly, we owe
it to ourselves and the cause we stand for, which we can contribute to with our minds and bodies whilst we live.
Second, I want to seize this opportunity to appeal to any
friend or comrade reading this who can assist with ensuring scholarship for Simisola
to pursue a PhD study in of biomedical technology to help. Any assistance
provided in this regard would be immensely appreciated.
Rest in power, Yomexy – my truest of friends.
05h55
23/10/26
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