*Ọmọ Yorùbá - Sún rere ò.*
By Rev'd Prebendary Dr. Bunmi Fagbemi (Empee's Bestman)
Death is ever such an awkward business.
It becomes doubly so when you have to talk about someone with whom you have shared a good chunk of your formative years.
Along with some 90 other boys, Thomas Olúgbémiga Fáwọlé was admitted to Igbóbì College, Yába, Lagos, in 1969.
It was my good fortune, as one of those other boys, to get to know the gentle icon we mourn today.
He talked quietly and walked quietly - not as an affectation. Emperor, as we got to call him, was a genuine cast of the meek of the earth.
He was genuinely content with who he was. He could have been brash about all his natural gifts and talents, but he was not. He could have affected and been pretentious about others that suited his natural grace and charm with people, but he did not.
Gbẹ́nga was content with just who he was - no more, no less. He was the proud owner of everything that can't be bought.
Gbẹ́nga was Library Prefect when we were in Upper Six at School. It was, undeniably, one of the great offices of Igbóbì College. A position of trust that came with its room.
I dare say, it was a space that suited his quiet and welcoming disposition. His office and room could have been platforms to display a regal personality, to hold court. But that was not Emperor. He did not hold court.
Instead, in the spirit of actual librarians, he used them to assist people in getting along in our everyday learning tasks. It allowed Emperor to earn a place of respect in the school community.
I was one of those he helped with their studies. A debt, which, alas, I could never repay. Not that he needed or wanted to be compensated. He was naturally generous and a font of wisdom about life.
Because we both lived in Ibadan, which in the 1970s was some 3-4 hours drive from School, where we were boarders, we naturally spent time together during the holidays. We got to know each other's families pretty well. I will always recall the affection with which my family held him. Their joyful ring of 'Empee!' when he was about was repaid with the ease with which he engaged with them. Gbẹ́nga taught me much about caring for my siblings. He was precious about his siblings. (I trust Toye will ever remind the wider family of that excellent quality that Emperor showed to all of us).
He knew how to bring people together.
It didn't take my family long to rank Emperor as 'one of us' - a fact my parents made clear when they decided to attend his wedding in Oyo, against medical advice not to drive.
Well, the moniker 'ọmọ wa ni' was to turn to 'Ọmọ Yorùbá ' when we responded to the call to serve in the National Youth Service.
That was in 1979, and Nigeria was a much more immense space than it is now. It was not an easy terrain to travel across. And it was a time much closer to the traumas of the civil war.
I was in Owerri, one of the major theatres of that conflict. Emperor was assigned to Calabar - the sheltered port city of gunboats, smartly dressed naval officers, fine women and good food. Not that those allurements mattered to him. Or to another classmate of ours with whom they shared a deployment at the Ministry of Justice - but I digress. It was a joy to visit Gbẹ́nga at his post. Life in Calabar, not I hasten to add Calabar women, domesticated the pair of them.
However, what was more defining of that year-long stint beyond the river Niger was that the three of us experienced what it was to be the 'other.' We learnt to remind ourselves that we were 'Ọmọ Yorùbás' - that we were 'abroad.'
For Emperor and I, that experience was to be deepened by life in the diaspora.
Over the last ten years, we got more opportunities to catch up with each other - across the pond, as the Brits call it.
It was a thrill to become reacquainted with his blindingly brilliant mind. It was a joy to be reminded of his intellect. He had an excellent grasp of the law and mastery of the English language. He was cautious with words and blessed with admirable writing skills.
As a law lecturer, you could count on Emperor to get to the heart of complex legal issues with startling clarity. His essays were always crisp and clear. I still rejoice at the excellence of his dissertation for the Master of Laws from the University of Ifè. I hope it is published, in his memory, someday.
Our last communication, days before his death, will always remind me of lines in Amos Tútùọ́lá's *The Palm-Wine Drinkard* (_PS: Emperor was one of those non-infuriating teetotalers_). It was a conversation in which we reflected on the fragility of life. However, whatever fear Emperor had, was not a fear that could steal away his heart, his true self.
Emperor had long discovered himself. He had owned his true self a long time ago.
He was the meek owner of everything that couldn't be bought.
Sùn re ò - Ọmọ Yorùbá.
A ó pàdé l'ẹ́sẹ̀ Jésù.
The Rev'd Prebendary Dr Bùnmi Fágbèmí
London,
Tuesday 23rd March 2021
