[caption id="attachment_63244" align="alignright" width="548"] HID and HID Awolowo[/caption] Why did Chief Obafemi Awolowo describe HID, his wife, as a jewel of inestimable value? Here are the reasons By Wale Adebanwi The Countenance of Prosperity… IBADAN IN THE LATE 1930s when Hannah moved there to begin a new life with her husband was an effervescent city. It was an old war-camp turned city-state which became a trado-modern city. It was later to be described in “five mercurial lines” by one of Africa’s pre-eminent poets, John Pepper Clark, ” as a “running splash of rust/and gold – flung and scattered/among seven hills like broken/china in the sun.” In the 1930s, the “running splash of rust/and gold” was in the throes of defining what would be its modern identity. It was the city to which Obafemi brought Hannah to experience “the beautiful soothing countenance of Prosperity”…. [caption id="attachment_63246" align="alignright" width="400"] TheNEWS cover page[/caption] Hannah explained to her mother that her husband had requested that he wanted her to be a full-time “housewife” and they had both agreed on this. She wasn’t initially happy about the arrangement herself. When her husband first told her a few months after marriage that he would not want her to “trade” or do any work, she was very sad. It was not only that she would be wasting her skills, she had become used to earning money on her own and not depending on anyone, including her father; therefore, this new regime would mean total financial dependence on her husband. More important, she was already being put under some social pressure because she was yet to conceive. In that era in Yorubaland, perhaps the most important prayer for the newly wed is “eyin iyawo o ni m’eni,” which was a prayer for fruitfulness of the womb. Hannah’s situation was therefore not made better by what some gossips had started to describe as infertility. She was not tending a pregnancy or taking care of a child. Yet, she wasn’t employed in any way. It was an untenable position for a young married woman in late 1930s Nigeria. Yet, as pledged, she had to abide by the wishes of her husband. She visited Ikenne regularly and therefore was open to being constantly taunted alternatively by those who advised her against marrying the rascal and those who advised Obafemi not to marry an abiku. However, regarding the issue of whether his wife should work, the transporter and produce-buyer was convinced that, as in the tradition of his people, it was his exclusive responsibility to take care of his wife. At that point, he could not imagine that it was possible for his wife to combine the administration of the home front with commerce. He would learn later that she could do so brilliantly and still support him in his proposed political life. “He wanted two things – politics and law,” Hannah, on the eve of her seventieth birthday, justified her decision to obey her husband’s wishes in the early years of their matrimony. “When I married him, he was in business – transport and produce buying. But he had always said, ‘One day I want to be a frontline politician. One day I want to be one of the first class lawyers in this country.’ So, I knew what he wanted, and I wanted him to be what he wanted to be.” Read part one here: https://thenewsnigeria.com.ng/2016/12/obafemi-hid-awolowo-their-untold-love-story-part-1/ However, unknown to Obafemi’s cousin who was mocking Hannah for not conceiving by mid-1938, she was already pregnant, even though it was not visible yet. Still, when many who had been scornful of her “inability to conceive” eventually saw the evidence of pregnancy, they didn’t believe it. “When I was pregnant with Segun,” Hannah recalls, “they said it was not pregnancy, that there was no baby in my tummy….” [caption id="attachment_63247" align="alignright" width="640"] Awo, HID and their grandchildren at Awo’s 70th birthday celebrations: (L-R, back row), Dolapo Osinbajo (nee Soyode), Yemisi Subair (nee Oyediran), Segun Awolowo, Ayoola Ayodeji (nee Oyediran), Kemi Aderemi (nee Oyediran), (L-R, front row) Ladi Soyode, Olumide Oyediran, Damilola Adekoya (nee Awolowo)--resting on Chief Awolowo, Femi Soyode (on HID’s left) and Yejide Badmus (nee Awolowo).[/caption] Contrary to the doubts, on January 20, 1939, the Awolowos welcomed their first child, a son. He was named Olusegun, a telling name, the full meaning of which was Oluwasegun (God is victorious). It was a strong response to their traducers…. With the moral support of Hannah, by the close of 1942, Obafemi Awolowo was free of all the debts which had “enthralled and cramped” him and his wife and children. Now “financially liberated,” the couple began a new life in which the head of the home was able to re-lunch his delayed attempt to travel to England to study for law. They had torn the mask, therefore, the “beautiful soothing countenance of Prosperity” was in the horizon. But, as Obafemi acknowledged, Hannah’s support was critical to this recovery. He confessed that “With my wife on my side, it has been possible for us to weather all financial storms. Because of her charm, humility, generosity and ever-ready sympathy and helpfulness for others in distress, she is beloved and respected by all our friends and acquaintances….” Since he read Robert G. Ingersoll’s collection of essays in Lagos around 1931, Obafemi had started raising doubts vehemently about “the legends and fictions which the Israelites and their successors in dogma have woven round” God. In all this period, Hannah remained a steadfast Christian. As Awolowo later wrote, “Throughout the period of my oscillation between agnosticism and Christianity, my wife stood immovably for the latter. However, he eventually returned to Christianity. Her constant admonitions and steadfastness did more than anything else to restrain me from going beyond the point of no return….” With his eyes focused on a future political life before he left Nigeria in 1944 to study in England, Obafemi clearly leveraged his wife’s royal background in Ikenne and Ofin (Sagamu). Given that she belonged to the Liyangu family, one of the three ruling houses that could access the Akarigbo throne, and the Obara family, also one of the three ruling families of the Alakenne throne, her heredity held the potentials for a significant social and political life for her husband. What emerged later from this background has been described by Nolte as “a gendered approach to politics” which involved “a division of labour between Obafemi and Hannah Awolowo in Ikenne and Remo,” one in which “Awolowo himself acted officially in the public sphere while his wife provided access to and mobilised non-public political resources.” It can be argued that though this approach was without doubt gendered, it was remarkably predicated as much on Hannah’s noble birth as well as her personal skills. The leveraging of familial and communal connections that eventually became the socio-political basis for Awolowo’s emergence in local politics were also undeniably buoyed by the rare combination of certain traits in the couple – who were both succinctly described by Yomi Mamora as “two of a kind.” Obafemi’s methodical, comprehensive and thoughtful planning and mobilization of resources blended with Hannah’s calculated, determined, meticulous and patient shaping and projection of social capital in the struggle for influence and prestige. She also has a matchless capacity for recollection and detail, an intrinsic facility for identifying and understanding the social order of things and a unique aptitude for tracking loyalty and treachery. Therefore, within the first five years of their matrimony, it was already evident that theirs was a perfect harmony that blended. For a few months short of fifty years, they were to enjoy a mutuality that melded so well as to become storied…. Unknown to Obafemi, Hannah’s mind was already working on what she would do to make money while he was away in England. She and three (soon to be four) kids were not going to depend on a man who would be struggling with his studies in the UK for subsistence in Nigeria. She was going to exhibit her entrepreneurial skills while he was gone. She will be so successful before he returned that he would be convinced that she should be allowed to operate a business. Once he was gone, Hannah returned to Barclay’s Bank to withdraw the twenty pounds (£20) he left for her and the children in the bank. That money formed the foundation of what turned out many years later to be a multi-million naira business empire called Dideolu Enterprises and Ligu (a shortened form of Liyangu) Stores. She used the twenty pounds to start a business in buying and selling. She bought some agricultural items such as tomatoes and onions from traders who brought them from the north of Nigeria. She also bought some food items from the north and resold them. With her natural talent for business, in no time, Hannah was doing very well. “I prospered in business,” she recalls. “And before my husband could send us money I was buoyant enough to send him twenty pounds (£20). He later told me the money reached him at a time he had no money.” But the law student assumed that his forbearing wife had again displayed her eagerness to sacrifice everything for his success. She had saved the twenty pound he left for the family’s upkeep and mailed it to him, he thought. Hannah remembers that “He wrote to thank me thinking it was the money he left for us that I sent to him. He wondered how we would survive now that I had returned the money. But I replied that I was working and that home was alright….” Characteristically for a man who was a stickler for details, by the time Hannah sent money again, he started raising questions. What is the source of the money, he queried? Hannah remembers that “Occasionally, he used to ask for the source of the money, but since he needed the money which I used to send to him from my little business, he had no choice but to keep his calm, because he was in no position to object in far-away London.” Obafemi himself later wrote in his autobiography that “It is to record to my wife’s credit that she never made a financial demand on me throughout my stay in the United Kingdom. She always sent me good news every week about herself and the children; but when I returned home I leant that she had passed through many anxious times with four children the oldest of whom was only five when I left home, and the youngest of whom arrived four months after my departure….” Hannah might have begun to be metaphorised in Obafemi’s mind at that point as a jewel. Also, he must have realised at that juncture, more than ever before, that he had found gold, the inestimable value of which will become much more apparent in their future together…. Exchange of letters continued between the couple in the two years and four months that Obafemi spent in London. He eagerly gave him details about his life in the UK, including the formation of a pan-Yoruba organisation, Egbe Omo Oduduwa (A Society of the Descendants of Oduduwa – Oduduwa being the popularly-acknowledged progenitor of the Yoruba) in 1945. Before he returned to Nigeria in December 1946, Hannah had sent money to her husband four times. It was a measure of how well she was doing in her business that she could take care of four children, expand her business and yet send money to the UK. By this time, she had given birth to their fourth child, a daughter, Ayodele.Therefore, she was bearing a heavy burden, which included not only feeding the family, but also clothing everyone and paying the fees of two of the kids in school. [caption id="attachment_63248" align="alignright" width="640"] Obafemi, HID and one of their grandchildren[/caption] In their future together, Hannah’s ability to take care of the home front not only when her husband was very busy in public life, but also when he was away (in detention or prison) would be critical not only to his psychological health and happiness, but also to the survival and stability of the family. Obafemi Awolowo was called to the Bar in London on November 18, 1946, as member of the Honourable Society of the Inner Temple. He returned to Nigeria the next year to the embrace of his wife and four children, Olusegun, Omotola, Oluwole and Ayodele, the last of which was born while he was away on December 29, 1944. Tokunbo, was born after his return on February 20, 1948…. By the time Ayodele and Tokunbo were ready to travel to the UK to study, Awolowo was already in jail. Therefore, Hannah was responsible for most of their expenses, while coping with the emotional, social and financial consequences of her husband’s incarceration. But she didn’t approach taking care of the home and her children as spending “my money.” She explains that “(s)ince we have agreed that whatever we have, we have it together,” whether it was herself or her husband spending money on the family, either was only spending mutually-owned resources. Her fierce loyalty to her husband, which became increasingly evident over the years, even after his death, meant that she regarded her life and possessions as all in the service of her soul-mate. [caption id="attachment_63249" align="alignright" width="549"] Chief Obafemi Awolowo coming out of the Black Maria (A black prison van used to transport prisoners) on his way to the High Court in Lagos to answe[/caption] As the wife of the Premier, Hannah, as the premier’s wife, was a model of modesty and decency. She took care of the home and concentrated on her business while doing her part to entertain guests and complement her husband during official events. She was conscious of the fact that as a wife of a man in such a strategic position, her conduct must be above board, because people were eager to attribute the failure of her husband to her – while they didn’t attribute his success to the wife. Therefore, she was guided by what she thought a woman in her position should embody. Odia Ofeimun, poet and public intellectual, who was Awolowo’s private secretary in the Second Republic, says “One of the first things I noticed was that if she and her husband were travelling, Mama would be ready at least an hour plus in advance, waiting by the car or in the car, by the foyer. I had to ask her, ‘you know, Mama, many husbands have to wait for their wives to do such things?’” “And she explained it to me in such a simple way. She knew her husband was going to be a politician and usually women constitute some kind of obstacles, but she vowed that she will never be the reason for her husband not doing what he had to do. If they had to travel together, she stood by the car and waited for her husband, her husband never had to wait for her. It is a rare woman who organizes herself in such a way because as she is sitting down there by the car, she gives instructions on what is to be done, how to manage the shop,” explains Ofeimun Hannah also supported her husband morally and financially. Their houses in Ibadan and Ikenne were not places of influence peddling for her. On the contrary, she gladly fed the people, both the distinguished and the hoi polloi, who visited constantly. “I supported him wholeheartedly,” she says with a sense of fulfilment twenty-eight years after his demise. She stood unflinchingly by his side for almost fifty years. Hannah’s attentiveness to, or attentive courtesy concerning, the demands and needs of her husband are almost mythical. Hannah Dideolu constantly replenished Obafemi Jeremiah. At the same time, she was a powerful influence on him in many ways. She managed the gulf between Obafemi Awolowo’s public ambitions and his private obligations and stabilized things when the one threatened to challenge the other. Therefore, he could not have succeeded in his public ambitions if she didn’t help to manage and maintain his private obligations. This was what he attested to in his autobiography where he credits her with making their home “a true haven: a place of happiness, and of imperturbable seclusion from the buffetings of life.” “Mama played a very significant role in papa’s life,” is how Abimbola Awofeso, Obafemi Awolowo’s nephew, describes their relationship. “She was more than a pillar. She was very loyal; she gave papa peace of mind.” Indeed, while Obafemi Awolowo may have instilled in himself an uncompromising conviction regarding his own potential greatness – which he describes in his memoir as his “great and immortal role” – undoubtedly, it was Hannah, with her abiding fortitude, exceptional devotion, constant encouragement, industry and above all, transcendental love, that pressed Awolowo, without any hesitation, towards, and sustained him in his, greatness. She was the first to identify and nurture Awolowo’s potentials with enthralling care, shrewd awareness and helpful goading. Therefore, when he called her an “ideal wife” and “a jewel of inestimable value” in his autobiography, it was only to capture what he later explained as her “outpouring of her love and devotion” which were, and remain, “beyond words.” The “Grace of God” and his “Spartan self-discipline” added to “a good wife,” confesses the man who is popularly called “the Sage,” were the three factors responsible for his remarkable life. [caption id="attachment_63250" align="alignright" width="640"] Dancing time: (L-R in front row) Obafemi and Hannah Awolowo, Ooni of Ife, Oba Okunade Sijuwade and the Ataoja of Oshogbo, Oba Oyewale Matanmi, dancing during HID’s birthday thanksgiving in the church in Ikenne[/caption] However, while most people who have written and spoken about the love between Hannah and Obafemi Awolowo which led the latter to describe his wife as “a jewel of inestimable value” often repeat that golden phrase, what they fail to account for is the fundamental challenge to his psychological and mental – and, by that implication, physical – health which Hannah helped Obafemi overcome. Even Hannah herself has never articulated this publicly. It is perhaps one of the reasons why people, including even some members of their immediate family, fail to understand the deep and abiding love between the two and their unbroken bond, a space on mutual love and enduring trust into which not even their children and grand-children could intrude. All the surviving children and the grandchildren all attest to this, affirming what Ofeimun articulates. “You don’t get between Papa and Mama,” Ofeimun says, “because between them there was something nobody could enter into.” Their last child, the medical doctor, Tokunbo Awolowo Dosumu, corroborates this. “They complemented one another,” she says. “You could not find solace with one against the other. If they took a stand on something, they both subscribed to whatever it was. Mama wouldn’t allow you to come behind Papa’s back or vice versa.” One of the grandchildren, Ayotola Ayodeji, Oyediran’s youngest daughter, also confirms that the grandchildren understood the symbiotic love between their grandparents. Even if you loved “grandma” Hannah on her own terms, she explains, you still had “to love Mama if you loved Papa.” A Couple and the Politics of Turmoil “BABA SEGUN, OKUNRIN ONIJOGBON YEN tun ti de o” (“Segun’s dad, that troublesome man is here again”). Hannah Awolowo quietly announced to her husband around eight in the morning on November 2, 1962. He was shaving at a wash-basin just by the side of the door to his bedroom. He still had shaving foam on his chin. “Lynn?” “Yes, Lynn.” Hannah went down the stairs to fetch Lynn after her husband asked her to lead him upstairs. He was accompanied by one Ezekwem, also a police officer. At this point in 1962, some British officers remained in the police force. They and their Nigerian colleagues were all in the service of Her Majesty’s Government, because Nigeria was yet to become a Republic. Most of these British police officers and the other British officers in the civil service who were holdovers from the colonial era saw themselves as agents of the imperial order charged with ensuring the perpetuation of British interests in Nigeria. Awolowo was generally regarded by these officers as a major stumbling block to the continuation of British suzerainty in Nigeria at the end of colonial rule. Few holdovers of the colonial era had greater loathing of Awolowo than Lynn. He was therefore an enthusiastic tool in the hands of those Awolowo accused of having committed themselves to “nothing but the death of the Action Group and the political liquidation of Action Group leaders.” This morning, the insolent operative of the ascendant order in immediate postcolonial Nigeria, Lynn, carried a malicious smirk on his face that even his nervous smile could not conceal. “What bad news have you for me this morning?” The former Premier of Western Region and Leader of Opposition asked Lynn to make light of the national tragedy that was unfolding in Nigeria. “I have never brought you bad news!” Lynn shot back resentfully. Brazen liar, Hannah Awolowo must have thought as she listened to the conversation! She had not labelled him “okunrin oni wahala” for nothing. He had been harassing the couple and their family incessantly for many months now. In fact, Lynn had brought bad news. As Awolowo ushered him and Ezekwem into his office, the latter laid his hand on the Leader of Opposition’s left shoulder and said “In the name of Her Majesty, the Queen, I hereby arrest you, on a charge of treasonable felony, conspiracy to commit a felony, and conspiracy to effect an unlawful purpose. You are not obliged to say anything, but whatever you say will be taken down and may be given in evidence at the trial.” This was the good news the cowardly Lynn brought! [caption id="attachment_63251" align="alignright" width="636"] Mrs Ayo Soyode (l) and Awo (r) discussing law with her father[/caption] As he prepared to follow the policemen to the High Court at Tafawa Balewa Square, Awolowo reflected on the “catalogue of… acts of humiliation…directed against” him since May 1962…. Hannah too was reviewing the events of the last few months in her mind since the declaration of a state of emergency in the Western Region on May 29, 1962 when her husband was restricted within three-mile radius of their house in Ikenne. Upon hearing the bad news of the restriction, they both drove to Ibadan to pack a few things before heading to Ikenne on May 31. Twenty days later, he was restricted to Lekki…. It turned out to be the first step into the ploy to destroy Awolowo politically and, if possible, physically liquidate him. Through it all, Hannah followed her husband and stayed with him in restriction and house arrest. “Why are they doing all these things to us,” Hannah asked her husband as he prepared to leave with those who had to arrest him. For her, it was not only Obafemi who was experiencing the succession of humiliation and harassment. They were experiencing it together. They were indissoluble; thus, whatever happened to one, happened to the other. But she was determined to weather the storm. She was also unbending in her trust in God. “By God’s grace,” she declares to her husband, not to console, but to encourage him, “we will prevail over the wicked ones and all those who do evil to us.” Obafemi Awolowo didn’t want his wife to follow him to court that morning. But she insisted and drove behind the convoy of police vehicles that led her husband to court…. “I will go with them,” Hannah volunteered. [caption id="attachment_63252" align="alignright" width="640"] HID in front of the Broad Street Prisons in 1962. She just alighted from the car, as she prepared to take her husband's meal inside the prison[/caption] It was a demonstration of nerve that her husband thought bordered on recklessness. They were being hounded. He had experienced the “humiliation and degrading treatment” which included being restricted to Ikenne, Lekki and Ikenne, in that order, and now he was under house arrest in Lagos. He could not trust the power – which he later described as “a wicked and ruthless cabal” – that had treated him enough to follow one of its most zealous agents so late in the night to Ikenne from Lagos. And if he couldn’t, why in the world would he allow his beloved wife to follow him? At any rate, he had never met this Irishman and his Nigerian assistant, before that night. Even though he initially appeared “urbane and cordial,” there was no reason to follow him to Ikenne in the night. But Hannah was prepared to follow Lynn and the other police officer who had come with him. John Lynn was in the official residence of the Awolowos in Lagos in the night of September 8, 1962 for the first time to announce that he had a warrant to search his house and compound in Ikenne. This was barely a month before he returned to arrest him. Hannah and her husband had just finished their dinner, which, at that point, they used to have between eight and ten in the night. (He would later change while in jail to eating breakfast between eight and nine in the morning and dinner between five and six in the evening, skipping lunch. His wife embraced the same eating pattern when he informed her while still in jail). It was almost eleven in the night when Lynn announced his journey to Ikenne, insisting that he had to be in Ikenne to search their house. It was obviously a plan to “catch” Awolowo unprepared so as to “discover” the “arms cache” he was “hiding” in Ikenne. So, Lynn asked the Leader of Opposition if he would like to come with him to Ikenne. “Me? No! Not at this hour of the night!” Awolowo replied. It was at this point that Hannah offered to go with Lynn. “You are doing nothing of the kind,” responded her husband…. “My beloved Mama Segun, I learnt that you had been ill. I was upset. But I am happy to hear that you have improved considerably. Your health and your life mean almost everything to me. I must say categorically that life would mean nothing to me without you and our children and grandchildren…” This was how Obafemi Awolowo began one of the most important letters that he would ever write to his wife, particularly in the darkest hour of tribulations. He wrote the letter as he waited for the judgement of the Supreme Court. He was afraid that if his appeal was dismissed, in the course of his imprisonment, his adversaries might kill him while putting out a story that he was trying to commit suicide. He, therefore, decided to write to HID to “disburse my mind completely to her as to what I thought she might do if certain eventualities occurred.” If he was unsuccessful at the Supreme Court, Awolowo asked Hannah to “take it like a brave woman that you are,” assuring her that that “would not be the end for me.” “That would not be the end for me. The best is yet to be,” he added. “This much I want you to bear in mind; if you heard that I died, you could be sure that my enemies had killed me. I say this because after committing this heinous crime, these evil people might issue a release that I committed suicide, or that I died or was killed when I was trying to escape lawful custody.... I have great hopes for the future, and I am determined to live,” Awolowo declared in the letter. After dealing with political matters regarding what HID should do with the proposed AG/NCNC alliance and the coming elections, while encouraging her to be the “moving spirit” of the organisation of the Women’s Wing of the AG, Awolowo turned to family matters. He implored his HID “not to lose hope at all.” He further entreated her to “concentrate on your business and Church duties.” He then discussed the four children and grandchildren and what needed to be done about each of them, including their personal prospects and schooling. By this time, Tola was married, Wole had left school and was living in Ikenne, while Ayo and Tokunbo were getting ready for college. The loving father stated in the letter that he was sure her eldest daughter could fend for herself, praying that “it may please God to bless the union between her and Kayode [Oyediran] with undying love and with children.” He acknowledged the crisis in the life of his 20-year old only surviving son, but prayed “fervently that it may please God to direct him aright and help him make a success of his life.” As for Ayo and Tokunbo, he ventured that it should be easy for HID to arrange for admission for them when they are ready at the Universities in Lagos and Ibadan, respectively. When HID read the letter, though he had urged her “not to be sad about the contents of this letter” or “shed tears,” she broke into tears. But she quickly got over it and braced herself for what the future held in store for her and her “ever devoted and affectionate husband….” Even though H.I.D.’s campaigns in Ondo Province must have jolted Premier Akintola as the 1964 regional elections approached, Akintola was not comfortable with any suggestion of visiting the Ekiti areas of the Province himself. The Ekiti were diehard supporters of Awolowo – such that Akintola’s biographer, Osuntokun, himself an Ekiti, states that “Awolowo’s hold on the Ekiti-Yoruba, particularly the intellectuals, remains a mystery….” [caption id="attachment_63253" align="alignright" width="640"] Gowon and Awo after his release from prison[/caption] The leaders of the AG who survived the attempt at mass incarceration of the leadership of the party and serial arrests and harassments hatched by the ruling parties at the federal and regional levels, the NPC and the NNDP respectively, met in early 1964 and decided that it would be most helpful to the party if Awolowo’s wife led the campaigns across the region. She was already the leader of the women’s wing of the party, called the Action Group Women Section, which organised alongside Mrs. Wuraola Esan and Chief (Mrs.) Olu Solaru. She was a focused, strong-willed and dedicated person who knew the dynamics of the politics of the region. She had also weathered the storm alongside her husband. Among the many acts of intimidation which she had taken in her stride was the tear-gassing of her home in Ibadan on May 27, 1963, about eight months after Awolowo began serving his ten-year sentence. It was a test of the legendary patience that her husband said she possesses in abundance [caption id="attachment_63256" align="alignright" width="640"] Together in confinement: The old main house(l) and the outbuilding (below) where Awolowos spent their in restriction in Lekki in 1962. During a visit to the place after the death of her husband, HID points to something with her walking stick[/caption] [caption id="attachment_63255" align="alignright" width="640"] The Lekki house where Awo spent his restriction, now rebuilt[/caption] The jailed leader’s wife, Hannah, continued her tour after Eastern Region’s Premier Michael Okpara’s visit to Ibadan. She campaigned in the Ijebu division too. At Ijebu-Igbo, she launched the UPGA campaign for the federal elections on October 20, 1964. In their welcome address, the local leaders of UPGA said “(w)e realise that the battle ahead is tough but we can assure you that by the grace of Almighty God and the support of our Leaders, we shall return the UPGA candidate in Ijebu North East with the opponent losing his deposit.” However, they urged the Federal Government “to check the excessive intimidation by the NNDP Government of Western Region” against their members and supporters. Yet, they asserted that they were sure of a victory “which will obviously lead to the immediate release of our Hero and true Yoruba Leader, Chief Obafemi Awolowo.” The same day, in their welcome address to Mrs. Awolowo, the party faithful in Ago-Iwoye stated that“ the cause of the past Two Dark Years and the great sacrifice made by the members of your family in an attempt to wrench Yorubaland from the greedy clutches of the power-drunk politicians are not unknown to this community, as such we are here to register our approbation to your line of action as well as the ideals of Democratic Socialism.” The Jewel and the Lion …should the worst happen, I want you to take it like a brave woman that you are. That would not be the end for me. The best is yet to be, as long as my life is spared.... I take this opportunity to renew to you, my only Darling Wife, my vow of undying love. In God’s good time we will meet again in a most happy reunion, and that before very long…. Your Ever Devoted and Affectionate Husband. - Obafemi Awolowo, Letter to Wife, May 1964 HER LONG AWAITED DAY OF joy was finally here. From the splendour and glory of Obafemi Awolowo’s elevation to the position of Premier of the Western Region through the dark disquiet of his days of restriction in Ikenne, Lekki and Ikoyi to the unutterable sorrow of Segun’s sudden death, which was followed by Obafemi Awolowo’s 10-year jail sentence, Hannah had journeyed through them all with grace and self-possession. Now, the exhilarating bliss of her husband’s release from jail was provoking far greater positive sensations than she had ever experienced in the course of their lives together. Her animated state and the powerful glee that coursed through her mind agitating her limbs this morning of August 4, 1966, were inversely proportional to the numbing emotions and grief heralded by the break of dawn on July 10, 1963. What was she to do? Where was she to meet her Ever Devoted and Affectionate Husband, as Obafemi Awolowo had described himself to her in his last depressing letter? She was getting different vibrations. Happiness was overpowering H.I.D. She wanted to travel to Lagos to meet him. But then she received a message that she was to stay back in Ikenne to organise a thanksgiving service at the church which will be of help upon his arrival in their hometown. What would she do when she first beheld him in freedom for the first time since November 2, 1962? He had predicted in his letter to her in May 1964 that “In God’s good time we will meet again in a most happy reunion, and that before very long.” “Before very long” took three years, nine months and one day. Awolowo was pardoned on August 2, 1966. He was flown to Lagos the next day…. Shortly after meeting Gowon, Lt. Colonel Murtala Mohammed, one of the plotters of the coup that made Gowon head of state, personally drove Awolowo to Ikenne. One of Awolowo’s most loyal political associates, Bisi Onabanjo (later Governor of Ogun State in the Second Republic) accompanied him in the car. He arrived Ikenne to what a newspaper described as the “warm and hearty embrace” of HID. The Lion had come home to his Jewel. He was also warmly welcomed by two of his children and his grandchildren. Only Tola - who had since wedded Kayode Oyediran in November 1963 - and Wole, were around. Ayo and Tokunbo were studying in England. There were also four grandchildren who had been born while he was in prison. Funke and Omotunde (Segun), Segun’s children were born in 1963, Oluwakemi and Yewande (Yemisi), Tola Oyediran’s daughters, were born in 1964 and 1965, respectively. “We had lots of hugs,” was how Tola Oyediran described the reunion with their father. “He was filled with a lot of emotions and so was everybody. We were happy that, at last he got his freedom. It was a trying time for every Awolowo. I don’t even know how to describe it…. We kept touching him? Are you the real Papa? Talk to us now, we said to him.” At the service, Awolowo read the first lesson. In his speech later, he acknowledged his wife’s fortitude and thanked everyone who had come to welcome him. The Lisa of Ijeun said he was particularly grateful to the common people, the men and women who stood by him even when some whom he had assumed will be steadfast “failed….” [caption id="attachment_63257" align="alignright" width="633"] Famous musician, Ebenezer Obey, greets HID with Obafemi Awolowo in the background[/caption] Death and Love Everlasting WHEN HID WISHED HER HUSBAND a “deep sleep” on the night of May 8, 1987 as they departed for their separate bedrooms, she could not have imagined that that would be her eternal goodbye to the man she married a little less than fifty years earlier. “A sun wo o” They both laughed. They had both said goodnight in their Remo dialect, only for HID to return to her husband to affectionately say another goodnight in the native argot of Ibadan, the city that defined most of their private and public lives together. “A sun wo o,” was the Ibadan’s way of wishing one another a deep, undisturbed sleep. It was also a prayer against any untoward incident, particularly an idagiri (emergency), in the night. Before they said goodnight, they had chatted as they sat together by the door adjoining their individual rooms while HID packed a few items for the wedding of the daughter of Otunba Biyi Durojaiye which she planned to attend the next morning. At the urging of HID, Chief Awolowo had been advised by his doctor to take some rest and stay upstairs in their house on Ajina Street, Ikenne. He was 78 the previous March, and age was beginning to tell on him. The exhausting physical and relentless mental exertions over the many decades had evidently weakened the man who is popularly regarded as a sage – the only Nigerian leader to be so described in the history of the country. He was becoming weak. His last public appearance was at the coronation of the Olu of Warri, Ogiame Atuwatse II, on Saturday, May 2, 1987. That day, for the first time in their entire life together, as HID revealed, Awolowo slept off publicly. On their return trip, HID was also struck by the fact that he slept from Warri to Ikenne. She felt that he was exhausted and needed a long stretch of rest, away from reading, writing and meeting people. But the Association of Jerusalem Pilgrims were waiting at home to meet them when they arrived 11pm. Even though he was tired, they met them at Efunyela Hall. The next day, a Sunday, they attended service at St Saviour’s. After the service, the JPs, as the Jerusalem Pilgrims were called, were hosted to lunch at Efunyela’s Hall. “When a snake shed its skin and you see it lying on the ground, you may think you are seeing a snake or that a snake is still there. Don’t be fooled by what you see, because the snake is gone. Only the skin is there as a camouflage. The snake is gone and you will never see the snake again,” Awolowo told the audience at the reception. The parable escaped everyone, including HID. The following Friday, May 8, his long-time friend, Alhaji S. O. Gbadamosi, showed up for dinner and they reminisced over the past. Gbadamosi left later in the night. The next morning, HID noticed that the light was on in his room. That was an indication that he was up. He never slept with the lights on. Usually, Awolowo would come out of his room to have breakfast at the table upstairs around half past eight in the morning. When it was past that time, HID asked one of the male assistant in the house where he was. He replied that he was still in his room. There was no response when she knocked. He shouldn’t take that long for Awolowo to be ready for breakfast. At any rate, he would have responded to her, even if he wasn’t ready. HID grew worried. By this time, Awolowo’s sister, Alhaja Awofeso had arrived. She was surprised to find that her sister-in-law had not left for Lagos. They both knocked more loudly, raising some alarm. Still no response…. HID then asked the senior driver to bring a cutlass so that they could force the door open. It was now clear that something serious, if not tragic, had happened inside the great man’s room. “As the door was forced open, and I saw how he slumped helplessly, I knew the worst had occurred,” disclosed HID. He was holding his toothbrush. “I rushed to him. With the help of his senior driver and his sister, Alhaja Anotu Awofeso, we lifted him up to his bed. Then I grabbed him and noticed that his body was still warm, I tried all I could to bring him back to life but to no avail. I still believed he would come around when shaking him and calling Papa Segun! Papa Segun!!” HID and her husband had not called each other by the name of their deceased first child in more than two decades. Though she could see that he was gone, she was in disbelief. She sent for his doctor. “I still nursed the hope that he will be revived. And I was saying so many words to him.” The doctor, Dr. Bayo Yusuf, arrived. He confirmed that Awolowo was dead…. 28 YEARS LATER, PLANS WERE in gear to mark HID’s centennial birthday in Ikenne. While her children and grandchildren were meeting in Efunyela Hall, someone suggested that HID should go to Efunyela Hall to greet them. Around one in the afternoon, she was placed on her wheel-chair and pushed to the hall. As she entered the hall, her children and grandchildren erupted in cheers and broke into a song. She was happy. When they were done, she prayed fervently for them emphasizing that they would all live long enough to be similarly honoured. Eyin na a dagba (“You too will grow old”). It was her last prayer…. When she returned to her room in the ground floor of the main house, she asked for pounded cocoyam. The steward brought her food. She was fed by one of her assistants. As she ate, she chatted with Esther, who took over the feeding to encourage her to eat more. At a point, she said she was full. After a little while, she asked to be placed on the bed to rest. They placed her on the bed. As she rested, everyone in the room left to give her time to sleep. Time was around half past two. Shortly before three in the afternoon, someone needed to pick a bottle of water from the refrigerator in Mama’s room. When HID noticed that someone was in the room, she asked to be raised because she wanted to sit up. The lady asked Mama to give her a minute because she needed some help to raise her up. She called Mama’s personal assistant, Esther, to join her in the room. As they returned to the room and tried to raise her, Esther noticed that her breathing was rapid, as if she was gasping. Once she sat up on the bed, Esther rushed out to the adjoining house where Mrs. Oyediran was staying to let her know that Mama’s breathing was irregular. She also alerted Dr. Awolowo Dosumu, whose own apartment was a bit farther than her elder sister’s. They both rushed down to Mama’s room with some of the grandchildren, including Ayotola Ayodeji, who were still around. When HID’s youngest child, Tokunbo, came into the room, she sat on the bed to rest her mother on her bosom. She breathed her last… Wole Soyinka, Nobel laureate, notes in his tribute that with her passing, “An Era recedes…” Thus ended one of the greatest public love stories in modern Africa.