Fellow Africans, please, join me in
thanking God for this baby of circumstance that was born through some
excruciating pain 20 years ago in the city of London. The genesis of
Ovation International could only have been by divine conception. I won’t
know any other way to describe it. The original idea was first ignited
after my controversial exit from my high flying job as the Editor of
Nigeria’s foremost celebrity journal, Classique magazine, owned by May
Ellen Ezekiel Mofe-Damijo, now of blessed memory. That is a story for
another day.
My first impulse was to birth my own
magazine, like most journalists would. There is nothing more addictive
than journalism, the reason most journalists find it inconceivable to
try other trades. So, I decided it was time to challenge fate and come
up with a journal that would mirror the lifestyle of the rich and
famous. There were already several such publications in circulation,
including Prime People, Vintage People, Fame, Today’s Choice, Climax,
Quality, Classique, Poise, and so on. There was also a very popular
romance magazine called Hints which was owned by Dr Ibe Kachikwu and
Edited by Mr Kayode Ajala. But I felt, there was enough space for an
authoritative magazine for newsmakers.
Fame had started from my apartment in
Ikeja, Lagos, as the brainchild of Mayor Akinpelu, Femi
Akintunde-Johnson and Kunle Bakare. Kunle Bakare was the Society Editor
of Classique when I was Editor and he had moved in to stay with me. We
were inseparable and it was only natural that I would be concerned about
a business he and others were starting. I eventually became a
Contributing Editor in Fame after I left Classique while working quietly
on my own project.
Kunle Bakare had played a pivotal role
in finding a title for my magazine by bringing out a Thesaurus and we
searched at random for any catchy word depicting celebrity status. We
came across so many but we stumbled on ovation and my reaction was
spontaneous; I screamed “Ovation… loud… for a purpose…” I was excited if
not delirious. That was it…
The next action was how to get the much
needed funding… That is another story for a different day. I remembered
my unlettered mum teaching me early in life that “money says we should
never make plans in its absence”. It is the first lesson to learn in
business. You can write the most brilliant plans and proposals but it
would all evaporate without cash. The second lesson I learnt was the
importance of pragmatism in business. You can hardly argue with a
benefactor who’s willing to invest in your dream. I was too idealistic
and rigid and lost out on what would have been a good and comfortable
deal. My core investor had wanted me to alter a few things but I was
stubborn and we could not conclude the deal. Ironically, years later,
the same benefactor would become the biggest supporter of all times, and
he is no other than Dr Mike Adenuga Jnr.
That was in 1992 and I had been out of
job since September 1991. Mercifully, I was able to start a Public
Relations outfit through the help of my friend, Mr Abdul-Lateef Kolawole
Abiola, who signed me to handle the media launch of Summit Oil
International. I got my next assignment from the Spirit of Africa, Dr
Michael Adeniyi Agbolade Isola Adenuga, who was already controlling two
banks, ETB and DEVCOM, and the first indigenous company, Consolidated
Oil, to discover oil in commercial quantity. My next job was the
invitation from Prince Nduka Obaigbena, the prodigiously gifted and
extremely brave Publisher of the defunct Thisweek magazine, who invited
me to be the pioneer Editor of Leaders & Company which metamorphosed
into Thisday newspapers. I was saddled with the responsibilty of
recruiting many of the core staff that started Thisday from scratch.
This was in December 1992.
Everything was going smoothly until
early 1993. I was in Nduka’s house one evening when word reached us that
Chief Moshood Kashimawo Olawale Abiola had dived into the Presidential
race and he was ready to run on the platform of the Social Democratic
Party. As my mentor and adopted father, I plunged myself into his
campaign. Nduka was tolerant of my decision despite being a member of
the opposing political party, National Republican Congress Party. Chief
Abiola went on a blistering campaign and eventually emerged the
candidate for his party while Alhaji Bashir Othman Tofa became the
candidate of NRC. It was funny as Nduka and I working from the same
office on Norman Williams Road in Ikoyi campaigned for different
candidates.
The June 12
Presidential election was the turning point in our lives. I thought I
was only on sabbatical and hoped to return to my desk after the
elections but it was not meant to be. I was so involved in the Abiola
saga that I soon became one of the earliest victims of the ensuing
military repression and I was thrown into the gulag called Alagbon
Detention centre between July and August 1993. That is a special story
on its own. I was soon released after being charged before a Magistrate
court in Igbosere and discharged to sin no more. But nothing could stop
me from joining so many well-meaning Nigerians seeking the revalidation
of the watershed election won by Abiola.
In 1994, Chief Abiola himself was
arrested and kept in solitary confinement. By this time I had totally
lost interest in my work at Leaders & Company and Nduka understood
and appreciated my unflinching loyalty to Abiola. I was ready to throw
everything into the ring. Life was hard and tough but God would always
look after his own. In the midst of these conundrums, I was still able
to find some odd jobs here and there.
I was fortunate to also meet the whiz
kid, Mr Hakeem Belo-Osagie, through his affable cousin, Mr Ademola
Adekogbe (may his soul continue to rest in peace) and Keem gave me the
complicated task of sorting out the spate of media attacks against him
after acquiring majority shares in Africa’s global bank, UBA. I gladly
undertook this great challenge and God helped me to accomplish what was
thought to be an impossible mission. Unknown to me, I was being prepared
on an epic journey. I had totally perished the idea of ever publishing
my own magazine. But man proposes and God disposes.
Little did I envisage a development that
would change my life, and that of my family, forever. I had travelled
to Abeokuta to visit former Governor Olusegun Osoba, my professional
godfather. I had always prayed to be as successful as Osoba in
journalism. And we shared a similar passion in politics. I was in
Abeokuta overnight as we discussed late into the night. I left Abeokuta
in the early hours of July 22, 1995 and headed back to Lagos. On getting
to Lagos I ran into my wife on the way home and she gave me the most
shocking news that some good Samaritans had come to alert and tip her
off about my impending arrest by the Abacha junta. She was sternly
advised to tell me to vanish into thin air immediately. The obvious look
of panic and agitation on her face said it all. I turned back from that
point and never entered that house again.
It was a strange journey. I never
planned to live outside my beloved country. I had to go quickly into a
bunker. My wonderful friends, the Orolugbagbes, took me in and kept me
away from trouble. I had to plot my exit. I contacted my comrade in the
struggle, Mr Tokunbo Afikuyomi, one of the smartest human beings I would
ever meet. He had earlier escaped the wrath of the military by running
off to London. He gave me a list of all that would be needed to make the
Odysseus journey. Again, money was needed. I was fortunate to have my
God-sent Spirit who took the risk of sending some money to get me out of
Siberia to freedom. My friends in London, led by Prince Adedamola
Aderemi and Mr Gbenga Olunloyo were also busy raising funds in readiness
for my kamikaze trip. On July 25, 1995, I took the leap of faith.
My first son, Oluwapekansayemi, was
barely ten months old. As I bade my wife and this innocent kid goodbye, I
had to keep that straight poker face of a supposedly strong man but
within me I was totally squeamish. I didn’t know if I would be caught on
the way by the goons that littered everywhere at the time. I was
accompanied by three extremely kind-hearted people; Captain Rotimi
Seriki (God bless his departed soul), Mr Bola Orolugbagbe and Mr Kunle
Bakare. I camouflaged like a farmer while they provided not only the
cover for me but also sufficient distraction from me to the security
guys. We managed to meander through a smugglers’ route at Seme border
and crossed into Benin Republic. And then, I wept bitterly. My mind was
doing some acrobatics. I didn’t know what could suddenly happen to me
and spin my life around again, like a rollercoaster.
We made our way to Cotonou but I was
just too scared to stay long in the very next country to Nigeria and a
stone throw from Lagos. My friends left me in Cotonou and went back to
Lagos while I carried on to Lome in Togo. I never felt that lonely in my
life. From Lome, I found my way to Accra, Ghana and checked in at the
Noga Hill hotel in Dzorwulu. It was my first contact ever with Ghana and
I was very impressed with the orderliness and sanity. I will return to
that some other time.
I spent three nights in Ghana planning
my major move to London. I was able to purchase my flight ticket. I had
traced an old Ghanaian friend, Mr Fritz Baffour who had spent time in
Nigeria and was very famous. A taxi driver had led me to a joint where
he said I would definitely find him and it was a happy-bitter reunion
for both of us because of my predicament. Fritz accompanied me to the
airport on July 28, 1995, and it was very kind of him to bid me
farewell. I landed at Gatwick Airport in the early hours of July 29,
1995. Unknown to me at that moment, I would be constrained to live in
London for the next three years. My wife and baby subsequently managed
to escape from Nigeria through the skin of their teeth. The next
challenge would be how to survive in the unpredictability of England.
The early months were good as friends
and family rallied round us. We were lucky to have senior refugees ahead
of us. Senator Bola Ahmed Tinubu, Lt. General Alani Ipoola Akinrinade
and Hon. Tokunbo Afikuyomi were very helpful. We enjoyed the cordiality
of Professor Bolaji Akinyemi, Chief John Oyegun, Commodore Dan Suleiman,
Chief John Oyegun, Hon. Wale Oshun, Rev. Peter Obadan, and many others.
But soon it was time to face the harsh reality of living in London. We
needed to find something more permanent to do.
The divine intervention would come from my much younger cousin, Mr Segun Fatoye. We had gone to his house one Sunday
afternoon and spent quality time with his family. I would never know
what got into him but Segun called me to a corner and asked me a
question I had not been able to confront candidly: “Sir, have you
decided on what you would do for a living in London…? I answered “no”
and he fired another salvo. “Bros, you have to do something urgently or
end up washing plates and such menial jobs.” He was that brutal. Then,
he provided the solution himself: “But you were such a great journalist
back home, why don’t you start something here…”
That was it but where is the money to
start anything? I was practically penniless. I approached a friend, Mr
Doyin Iyiola, who was a senior staff at the London office of African
Concord and the African Economic Digest, owned by Chief Moshood Abiola.
He agreed to work on the business plan. He also told me he had
registered a company called Stallion Communications and he was ready to
bring me on board. My cousin called his dad, my uncle Chief Ezekiel
Olasunmoye Fatoye, and surprisingly, he blessed us with the first
£10,000. Our business plan showed we needed about £150,000 to start
small but that was way beyond our reach. We had a few friends chip in
their bits and pieces but we ran into our first major turbulence when Mr
Doyin Iyiola decided to pull out on the eve of our take off. We were
badly shaken by the experience. I couldn’t blame him; he was not a
risk-taker like me. He found my ideas too fanciful and flamboyant. The
only option left to us was to start our own company from scratch.
Between Prince Adedamola Aderemi, Segun
Fatoye and I, we regrouped and went ahead with the plans to set up
Ovation International. 20 years after, there is plenty to tell about the
daredevil adventures that gave rise to what is unarguably one of
Africa’s biggest brands… (To be continued)
No comments:
Post a Comment