“Honourable Minister, where is the next port of call for you after the ministership?” I asked my principal in January 2007, as we commenced the final phase of his tenure at Radio House. “Niyi, I am going back to school.”, he responded with full metacommunication and paralinguistics, with a tincture of jocular appurtenances. Indeed, it came to pass. As soon as his tenure ended on May 29, 2007, he was off to the Kennedy School of Government, Harvard University in the United States.

Before Harvard, he attended good schools and was properly educated in Nigeria, a persistent reader, humanist, statesman, decidedly dedicated patriot, impeccable dresser, an organically organised thought leader, with rare personal effectiveness that finds the first expression in the fact that he was never late to a meeting. Okeifufe Frank Nnaemeka Nweke II, traditional leader of Ishi Ozalla, in Nkanu West Local Government Council of Enugu State, more popularly known as Frank Nweke Jr., (or still, FNJ as we call him in close circles), is a forthright, inimitable and phenomenal leader who continues to demonstrate that he is first and foremost human before becoming Igbo and Nigerian. But the Igbo republicanism, egalitarianism, enterprise, and industry run in his blood to the last mile, including the distinctive devotion, painstakingness and resolute nature of Ishi Ozalla people, a community noted for extraordinary commitment to trading (distinctively in animal protein) and particularly agriculture. Ozalla’s soil is largely ‘stony and granitic’. So, farmers in Ozalla would count among the most painstaking, devotional species. That is the spirit FNJ brought to bear on national assignments as Minister.

Scion of the Nweke family, FNJ is pedigreed. His archetype was his father, the family’s patriarch, Igwe Frank Nweke I, Okeifufe Napkparu Ujo Nku I, of Ishi Ozalla Born in Kano, raised across Nigeria, FNJ speaks Nigeria’s three major languages fluently, but his humanity extends to embrace people of languages he does not speak fluently. A princely prince through and through, FNJ is not just lovely. He is kind, convivial, empathetic, and communicative. Though sometimes reticent, he could take no prisoners and can be as fiery as Sango. Let me instantiate, FNJ’s fury. One day in 2006, he came into my office, a space on the other side of his, which I shared with all my assistants in a conference room style.

That day of rage and fury, FNJ came into the office, and everyone rose to greet him as usual. He responded so economically. We all sensed trouble. After taking a bird’s view of the room to be sure we were in order, his eyes were still full of fury, almost ready to spit fire like Sango. Then, he muttered: “Niyi, come with me.” The first time he had said so in almost a year. So, I followed him like a disciple. He did not tell me where we were headed, but when the tour was over, I knew why he was furious. He had complained a number of times about how some people deliberately held on to official files and delayed the turn around time of works and routine activities, and he had issued a directive that turnaround time was 48 hours except there were objective grounds for delays. He was emphatic that such delays must be reported to the Permanent Secretary or the Minister’s Office. So, we visited some offices that were notorious for keeping files. One after another, he barged in and asked: “Oga (Madam), tell me why files are delayed in your office unnecessarily.” You can imagine the panic and the speed with which affected officers rose from their seats. And before they could mutter a word, FNJ would end his mission with a warning: “Please, don’t let me come back here for the wrong reason.”

Let me quickly return to the arrangement of the media team I led. Because of what I wanted to achieve, I decided I would operate differently as a special media advisor to FNJ. So, I had no personal office but an expanded space for essentially some 10 people I supervised (there’s a spillover to the adjacent room where we had two secretaries). Seven of my supervisees were recruited directly by me (with FNJ’s permission) from the NYSC camp in the last week of their Orientational exercise. We also had a workstation for journalists who were attached to FNJ’s office as Minister of Information and National Orientation (later Information and Communication).

Those NYSC interns were my strikers. I resumed 7.00 am daily, and they were always in the office before me. So, by 8.00am, the press review was ready and emailed to FNJ. It was deliberate. I wanted FNJ to have an idea of key issues in the news media before he stepped out of his house. One day, Louis Odion came and saw how we operated and functioned. He was impressed. So, he told FNJ, “Honourable Minister, the operation of this space is novel. This is novel and should be news.” I thanked Mr. Odion so sincerely for his perceptiveness and compliment. A very brilliant journalist, Odion was the first person in newspapering to respond to the uniqueness of our idea.

But I had another temporary office at the State House as soon as the Avian Influenza broke out, and I issued at least one bulletin daily with FNJ’s imprimatur on the bird flu. At the risk of sounding immodest, we were at every theatre of public communication contexts. The population census, the creative economy, the Eclipse of the Sun, the seemingly intractable crisis in the Niger Delta, etc. in that pre-social media era.

A cherished friend, brother, and mentor, my fortuitous meeting with FNJ at the National Youth Summit in May 2004, shortly after I defended my MA Dissertation at the University of Ibadan, was a turning point in my life. He provided the nudge I required to partake in the upturn unfolding in Nigeria at that time. He was Minister for Intergovernmental Affairs, Special Duties, and Youth Development. He took special interest in my contribution at the summit, looked out for me at the syndicate sessions, and later requested my mobile number. He rang my line two days after I arrived back in Ibadan and requested that I return to Abuja to be part of the 7-man committee emplaced to draft a youth policy for Nigeria. By the time the committee work was completed, I was enlisted among the 5-man team that represented Nigeria at the International Youth Festival organised by the Arab Republic of Egypt in El-Arish.

For those who are very discerning and able to recall, youth administration politics since the beginning of Nigeria’s Fourth Republic took a decisive and intriguing turn. I was a member of one of the radical tendencies of the Nigerian student movement represented by the National Association of Nigerian Students (NANS). So, I was patently way off the curve of the emergent agency of the politically mainstreamed, supposedly liberal but sometimes sycophantic student/youth movements. So, while I do not know how other members of the team to Egypt made the list, I knew I was FNJ’s nominee. But I recalled a fami liar face in the Nigerian team, Dr. Umar Tanko Yakasai, a hitherto tenacious Northern star in NANS, who was studying medicine at the University of Maiduguri in the truculent days of Abacha. Umar had become the national secretary of the National Youth Council of Nigeria (NYCN).

We quickly bonded and formed a coded ‘minority group’ on the road to Egypt, an alliance that impacted the report of the conference we submitted to the Ministry after the Egypt journey. FNJ did not only accept our report, but he implemented it with speed. A central element of that report was the imperative of inclusiveness and expanding the geography of the democratic space for youth participation in governance through conscious self-activity; making entrepreneurship a component of education curricula, immersion of young people in the didactic experience of the emerging digital culture; and finally, the centrality of cultural intelligence in leadership.

As we left Egypt and headed to the ‘promised land’, I continued to relate with FNJ and I contacted him later that year when the organisers of the International Student Festival in Norway accepted my proposal to speak at the forum. He was not only excited about the information; he personally sponsored my trip. My relational exchanges with FNJ grew in leaps and bounds, and we discussed ideas frequently. Perhaps I was an aide incognito until December 2005 when I visited him at Radio House after an evening lecture. I was an instructor at the International Institute of Journalism, and he had become the Minister of Information and National Orientation (later Information and Communication). I visited him in the company of my brother and comrade, High Chief Ezenwa Nwagwu, whose office was in the same facility where I was teaching. During my next visit to FNJ, we had series and fragments of conversations and then lunched in his inner office.

Thereafter, we relocated to the main office and continued the conversation. His spiffy jacket hung appropriately on the coat tree hanger made of polished steel and leather; his tie readjusted to business style, and his sleeves rolled up the Obama way. As he took his seat, he asked me to sit too. Then, in a voice that took oxygen from both spiritual and temporal realms unequivocally immersed in serious tenor, he uttered: “Niyi, you are coming here as my Special Assistant on Media.” He did not wait for a response. Then, he called one of his secretaries: “Tony!” The man heard him, came into his office with his pen and paper to join us. “Niyi is going to join us here as my SA on Media. Do a letter to the President through the Secretary to the Government of the Federation and request special approval.” Chief Ufot Ekaette was the SGF at that time. I requested time to consult, and he refused. He then recalled my contribution at the Women Development Centre, venue of the summit in 2004, where he first met me, and said his offer had provided a platform for me to make my views to reflect in government policies.

So, I stepped out of his office with his permission and quickly rang three people to seek their opinions. The first was Dapo Olorunyomi Olorunyomi (a principal mentor who particularly shaped my intellection in relation to my identity and role in social actions). The second was the late Prof. Alfred Opubor (Nigeria’s, possibly West Africa’s first professor of Mass Communication, who was my intellectual grandfather and mentor in the Nigeria Community Radio Coalition). The third was Dr. Olajide Ibietan (now a professor), my first consanguineous brother. I then returned to FNJ’s office and accepted the offer. Then, I mustered courage from residual strength and asked him when I should resume as his new SA Media. ‘Yesterday!’, he said magisterially.

That evening, I received a provisional letter of appointment from him. I then rang the Registrar of IIJ to discuss what had happened and proceeded to the office to write my resignation letter. I indicated the forfeiture of the monthly salary scheduled to be paid the day after, since I had served an emergency notice and was ready to leave the Institute immediately, although I continued to teach pro bono as my circumstances permitted.

The following day, I resumed at Radio House. The security personnel who had put me under ‘inquisition’ before granting me access to the Minister’s Office the evening before was the same man I met that morning. I greeted him, and before I could say I had come to resume duties, he said no one was around to attend to me. I told him I was appointed SA to the minister yesterday, and I already knew my office, so I did not need anyone to guide me. I then showed him the letter of provisional offer of appointment. God willing, I will capture in detail what transpired at Radio House in my memoirs.

For this moment, I would like to place on record, so history may bear witness that as Minister, FNJ demonstrated unconditional love for Nigeria. He discharged his duties with the most scrupulous conscientiousness of honour. He was offered citizenship of Atlanta, right in my presence in the United States, but he declined and invited his hosts to come to Nigeria first to receive Nigerian citizenship. He was so emphatic and unequivocal that Nigeria was the best place to be, and it was the reason we had visited the United States to market the Nigerian brand. On another occasion, I sat by him as he sat next to Dr. Christopher Kolade (Nigerian High Commissioner to the United Kingdom). We were at the Gallery of the House of Lords in the United Kingdom in 2007 during a public hearing on Nigeria. I could practically hear his heartbeat. He told me he believed Nigeria would not be blemished at that sitting, and it came to pass. Okeifufe’s faith in Nigeria has been as strong as it was. He never gave up on our country, and he continuously rekindled that faith in me. He resents bigotry. He has intolerance for atavism. He is nauseated by clannishness and nepotism. You won’t find him in the ranks of uneducated people who judge people first by their social status, ideological orientation, circumstances of birth, religion, and regional origin. He loves Igbos unashamedly, but he loves Nigeria in the true definition of the term. He stood (and still stands) out as a great exemplar of agile leadership, cultural intelligence, and our ebullient national spirit.

FNJ and I have no blood relationship. The last time I checked, I was still Yoruba from North Central Nigeria, whereas FNJ is Igbo from South East Nigeria. But he had three special assistants while he was Minister of Information and Communication, and none of us is Igbo. Of course, there were Igbos in our team, but I was clearly more visible. There were times people walked into my office and spoke Igbo. I would respond with the little proficiency I had acquired but would politely inform my visitors I do not speak Igbo beyond basic greetings and sociolects, although I understand the language much more than I speak it. Often, I noticed whiffs of shock in people’s countenances whenever they found that none of my parents is Igbo and I see people asked non-verbally: “How could an Igbo man appoint a non-Igbo to such a strategic desk?”

FNJ was not just a Minister of the Republic. He also acted in a manner that left imprints of Nigeria’s culture and pride, and thus, helped to repudiate negative perceptions about Nigeria. In one of our many visits to the United Kingdom, an Egyptian man who used to chauffeur us around London asked me on two occasions if FNJ was truly a minister in Nigeria. Of course, I responded in the affirmative. Then, the man retorted, “But Nigerian Ministers and government officials do not act like this in London”. “How do they behave?” I asked. And our man went on and on to characterise how our people often behaved and described FNJ as a rare Nigerian official. Frank Nweke Jnr was an exemplary national reputation manager, and the national brand management programme, “Nigeria: The Heart of Africa” project, provided the swivel to showcase Nigeria in a manner it was never done. From Washington to Toronto, London to Johannesburg and beyond, FNJ told the Nigerian story in impeccable narratives.

One day in Washington, we visited quite a number of places, including Voice of America (VOA) to speak about Nigeria. Hon. Sunday Dare was then Head of VOA Hausa Service. Then we arrived at a community radio station in the District. FNJ was so tired. When our consultant called on him to take his seat in the studio, he ordered me to takeover from him. The consultant was shocked, but FNJ ignored her. What happened at the station will be sweeter when gleaned from my memoirs.

Today, we have community radio stations in Nigeria because FNJ instituted the policy drafting processes when he was Minister of Information and Communication. We would have retained our status as the only West African (possibly African) country without community radio culture, against the spirit of the African Charter on Broadcasting. Fortuitously, the draft policy became our weapon of advocacy in the Nigeria Community Radio Coalition (NCRC) until President Jonathan approved 17 community radio licenses in 2015.

The foregoing suffices to say that FNJ pushed me beyond what I thought was my boundary. At the public presentation of my book, CYBER POLITICS: SOCIAL MEDIA, SOCIAL DEMOGRAPHY, AND VOTING BEHAVIOUR IN NIGERIA, in July 2023, FNJ noted, “Dr. Ibietan was my special assistant on media when I was Nigeria’s minister of Information and National Orientation (later Information and Communication), His patriotism, creativity, intellection and devotion to continuous improvement in the Nigerian condition are rare. A scholar-activist with an uncommon spirit of innovativeness, especially in utilising new technology to address a social challenge. It was he who essentially popularised the use of new media in public communication in Nigeria while working with me. I remember how, using email, he disseminated government communication to far-flung places, both locally and internationally. That was before the advent of social media as we have them today.” I read and heard these words with teary eyes, but they spoke to FNJ’s generosity because it was he who drove me so crazily to go beyond the limits.

In 2014, my friend, Andy Green, autographed a copy of his book, THE UPTURN: YOUR PART IN ITS RISE (2009), and gave it to me. It was in Banjul, The Gambia, at the annual International Public Relations Congress, organised by Mazi Mike Okereke’s Business Education and Examination Council (BEEC). In the introductory part of Green’s book, ‘How nature creates green shoots’, the most philosophical public relations book I have read, he stated, “Even in nature it is mystery. No one knows exactly what is the spark. The starting signal is for a seed to start germinating and create a new seedling for becoming a green shoot.” As Green noted, to germinate, a seed will require water, ‘oxygen for energy’ and a modicum of temperature. Indeed, Green reasoned that seeds require particular conditions to germinate, including a possible transportation through an animal’s digestion system to weaken the seed’s coat and enable germination. My maker provided many conditions before me to germinate afresh, FNJ is principal among them.

Okeifufe Frank Nweke II, Happy Birthday, sir. May your days be longer and blissful.

Dear friends, join me to celebrate the 60th birth anniversary of one of Nigeria’s most culturally intelligent personalities and objectively one of her most vibrant ministers of information. 

The Lagos State House of Assembly, under the firm leadership of Rt. Hon. (Dr.) Mudashiru Ajayi Obasa, once again lived up to its constitutional responsibility on Tuesday, September 16, 2025, when it raised concerns over the worrying practice of political appointees assuming office without legislative confirmation.

To discerning minds, this was no political storm. It was not a rift, neither was it a quarrel between the Executive and the Legislature.

It was, in fact, the Lagos State Legislature performing its core duty under the Nigerian Constitution. Yet, to the surprise of many citizens, some online bloggers hurriedly framed the development with sensational captions such as “Political Storms Rage Again in Lagos State” or “Obasa Sets for Another Showdown with Sanwo-Olu.”

Such misleading framing does more harm than good. It distracts citizens from the essence of governance and creates an illusion of conflict where none exists. Worse still, it undermines the confidence of the people in their democratic institutions by peddling half-truths.

The 1999 Constitution of the Federal Republic of Nigeria (as amended) is unequivocal on the requirement for legislative confirmation at the State level:

Section 192(2): “Any appointment to the office of Commissioner of the Government of a State shall, if the nomination of any person to such office is confirmed by the House of Assembly of the State, be made by the Governor of that State.”

Section 196(2): “The Governor shall appoint the Secretary to the Government of the State, Head of the Civil Service of the State, and Commissioners with the confirmation of the House of Assembly of the State.”

Section 126(2): “The Auditor-General for a State shall be appointed by the Governor of the State on the recommendation of the State Civil Service Commission, subject to confirmation by the House of Assembly of the State.”

Section 4(7): further empowers a State House of Assembly to make laws for the peace, order, and good governance of the State.

Section 128(2)(b): authorizes the House to “expose corruption, inefficiency, or waste in the execution or administration of laws within its legislative competence.”

Therefore, when the Lagos State House of Assembly insists that appointees must appear before it for confirmation, it is not engaging in political grandstanding. It is simply upholding the Constitution and safeguarding accountability.

So, one must ask:

Why should political meanings be hastily read into every resolution of the Lagos State House of Assembly whenever it discharges its lawful duties?

Why do certain online media outlets thrive on creating unnecessary friction between the Executive and Legislature; two arms of government that are, in fact, partners in governance under the doctrine of separation of powers?

Should the pursuit of online traffic and sensational headlines come at the expense of truth, clarity, and democratic education?

It is reckless and irresponsible journalism to reduce constitutional duties to mere political theatrics. When that happens, the media ceases to inform and instead begins to mislead, thereby weakening the public’s trust in institutions that exist to protect them.

It is no secret that across Nigeria’s thirty-six (36) States, most State Assemblies are considered mere extensions of the Executive. They lack independence, autonomy, and courage. Lagos State, however, stands tall as a remarkable exception, a Legislature with what can rightly be called “the uncommon standard.”

Are Lagosians not proud that their Legislature is not a puppet of the Executive?

Would citizens prefer a rubber-stamp Assembly that shirks its constitutional duty simply to avoid headlines of supposed “political rifts”?

Or is the discomfort, in reality, with the Speaker himself, a leader who deeply understands legislative business and boldly asserts the powers given to the Legislature by the Constitution?

Dr. Mudashiru Obasa is not just another politician; he is an inimitable legislative phenomenon. Experience, after all, counts in politics. As the saying goes: “The older the wine, the sweeter it becomes.”

From his days as a Councillor in 1999, to becoming a Member of the Lagos State House of Assembly in 2003, and serving continuously since then, Obasa has built a reputation as one of Nigeria’s most enduring lawmakers. His leadership has seen him serve as Speaker for three consecutive terms, a feat few can match, while also held the position of Chairman, Conference of Speakers of State Legislatures in Nigeria.

Under his stewardship, the Lagos State House of Assembly has not only maintained its autonomy but has also risen to a global pedestal. Legislatures from other Nigerian States routinely come to Lagos to learn best practices. Parliaments from across Africa and beyond have sought collaboration, recognizing Lagos as a shining model of legislative independence.

This pedigree explains why Dr. Obasa is able to interpret legislative proceedings and exercise institutional powers with precision. It is not arrogance. It is experience, competence, and mastery of democratic governance.

To permanently address misinterpretations and enlighten citizens and journalists on democratic processes, I urge the Lagos State House of Assembly, under the leadership of Rt. Hon. (Dr.) Mudashiru Ajayi Obasa, to sponsor a bill establishing an Institute of Democratic Governance.

If Lagos becomes the first State in Nigeria to create such an institute, it will solidify its leadership in democratic innovation. The institute would serve as a training ground for public officers, journalists, civil society groups, and ordinary citizens. It would also deepen public understanding of separation of powers, legislative authority, and accountability.

Such an institute would be a lasting legacy, reducing sensationalism, enhancing civic education, and ensuring Lagosians appreciate the true workings of democracy.

The Lagos State House of Assembly has neither exceeded its powers nor acted contrary to law by insisting on legislative confirmation of political appointees. On the contrary, it has fulfilled its sacred mandate.

The Legislature is not an enemy of the Executive; it is a constitutional partner. The Speaker and members of the House deserve commendation for defending the rule of law, not condemnation through misleading headlines.

As citizens, we should applaud a Legislature that sets the standard for accountability across Nigeria. After all, a democracy where Legislatures are weak is a democracy perpetually at risk.

Rt. Hon. (Dr.) Mudashiru Ajayi Obasa stands today as a testament to legislative excellence, a leader who has placed Lagos on the global map of democratic governance. His legacy, like fine wine, only grows richer with time.

*Olayiwola Rasheed Emmanuel is an Engineer, Poet, Journalist, Broadcaster, PR Strategist, Prolific Writer, and Politician. He was the Former Special Adviser on Environment, Information, and Civic Engagement to the immediate past Chairman of Agege Local Government.

Ten years after her passing, the name Hannah Idowu Dideolu Awolowo still evokes images of grace, grit, and quiet power.

Known affectionately as HID, she was more than the wife of Chief Obafemi Awolowo, the legendary nationalist and statesman.

She was a formidable figure in her own right, a trader-turned-industrialist, a strategist, a political bridge-builder, and the steady compass that kept one of Nigeria’s most consequential political movements from capsizing in stormy waters.

This is not merely a story of a dutiful wife, it is a story of a woman who used her own agency to help rewrite Nigeria’s history. She was a heroin

Born on November 25, 1915, in the quiet town of Ikenne-Remo, Ogun State, HID was the only surviving child of her parents, a pattern that traced back through generations and perhaps shaped the tenacity that defined her life.

Her early years were spent between classrooms and market stalls, learning arithmetic by day and shadowing her mother on trading trips by dusk.

These formative experiences did more than put food on the table, they equipped her with commercial savvy that would later fund political revolutions.

She met a young Obafemi Awolowo in the late 1930s in Ibadan. Their courtship carried out through carefully written love letters culminated in a modest wedding in 1937. From the very beginning, their partnership was built on shared ambition and mutual sacrifice.

She set aside her own career dreams to support his, embracing the role of homemaker and back-room strategist while he pursued law studies in London.

When Awolowo left for England in 1944, he entrusted HID with £20 for family upkeep. In an act that would later become family legend, she ignored his instruction not to trade and invested the entire sum in foodstuffs.

The profits not only sustained the family but also allowed her to send remittances to her husband, funds that kept him afloat as a struggling student.

Upon his return, HID expanded her trading ventures into full-fledged enterprises, Dideolu Stores, Ligu Distribution Services, and distributorships for tobacco and brewery products.

These businesses were far from ornamental, they were profit-spinning ventures that underwrote Awolowo’s political campaigns and financed the founding of The Nigerian Tribune in 1949.

By the 1960s, HID had become one of the most successful female industrialists of her time, combining sharp business instincts with frugal discipline.

HID’s real test came during Nigeria’s most turbulent political years. When Awolowo was jailed in 1962 on treason charges, HID became the unflinching face of the Awolowo political dynasty. She attended court sessions religiously, delivered meals to her husband in prison, managed the family businesses, and kept the Action Group’s political machinery running despite state harassment.

Her courage was not merely symbolic. She stood on podiums across the Western Region, broom in hand, rallying supporters to “sweep away the dirt” of misrule. In 1964, she even contested an election in her husband’s stead, demonstrating that her political credentials were not honorary but earned.

Tragedy deepened her burdens when their first son, Segun, one of his father’s legal defenders died in a car crash. Yet she refused to retreat into private grief.

Instead, she became even more committed to the causes she and her husband shared, education, social welfare, and good governance.

Those who encountered HID often spoke of her poise and faith. She was calm yet firm, deeply religious yet pragmatic, and fiercely loyal to her family. Awolowo famously attributed his success to three things, “the Grace of God, Spartan self-discipline, and a good wife.” That wife would go on to hold chieftaincy titles including Yeye Oba of Ile-Ife and the custom-created Yeye Oodua, a recognition of her status as mother figure to the Yoruba nation.

Even after Awolowo’s death in 1987, HID continued to chair the Nigerian Tribune and serve as the anchor of the Awolowo Foundation, ensuring that her husband’s legacy of progressive politics was preserved for future generations.

On September 19, 2015, HID passed away just weeks before her 100th birthday. Her burial in Ikenne drew presidents, governors, monarchs, and ordinary Nigerians who saw in her a symbol of integrity and resilience. The celebrations were not just of a life well-lived but of a life that continues to inspire.

Her legacy endures through the HID Awolowo Foundation, which promotes women’s empowerment and entrepreneurship, and through the generations of leaders she mentored and inspired, including her grandson-in-law, Vice President Yemi Osinbajo.

A decade later, HID Awolowo’s story remains strikingly relevant. At a time when many lament the shrinking space for principled leadership and women’s participation in public life, her example offers hope. She proved that one could be a wife, a mother, a business mogul, and a political force without compromising integrity.

Her life challenges today’s generation to embrace resilience over resignation, enterprise over dependency, and courage over complacency.

HID’s quiet power was not in loud rhetoric but in unwavering consistency, an attribute Nigeria’s political class could learn from.

Chief (Mrs.) HID Awolowo was more than a historical figure, she was a living institution. Her nearly 100 years on earth bridged pre-colonial, colonial, and post-independence Nigeria, making her a witness and participant in the making of the nation.

Ten years after her transition, she remains, in the words of Harvard scholar Prof. J.K. Olupona, “the archetypal mother who guided the collective lived experience of the Yoruba nation.”

Her story is not just about the past, it is a roadmap for the future for every Nigerian woman who dares to dream, for every leader who seeks to govern with vision, and for every citizen who longs for a nation built on courage, discipline, and faith.