Famous musician, Ebenezer Obey, greets HID with Obafemi Awolowo in the background

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.