By Nehru Odeh
Mrs Mabel Segun, a celebrated Nigerian writer who broke the glass ceiling with the publication of her autobiographical classic My Father’s Daughter in 1965, died in the early hours of Thursday, March 6, 2025.
She died five years short of being a centenarian two weeks after she had been celebrated on her 95th birthday at J.K Randle Centre, Onikan, Lagos, on Wednesday, February 18, 2025.
Though she was not present at the event, her presence was conspicuous enough in her absence, what with her larger than life persona, her irrepressible spirit, her strong personality, her string of achievements in literature, sports, broadcasting and academics and the way she inspired women to be themselves and to become writers.
Her photos, which told the thrilling story of her life from when she was a teenager and were on exhibition at the entrance of the hall, welcomed guests to the event. “We are telling her story to inspire the younger ones who are coming behind, that you can be a woman,” Omowunmi Segun, her daughter and award-winning writer, enthused.
The seminar tagged “The Multifaceted Artistry of Mrs Mabel Segun” was indeed the farewell garlands of honour Nigerian writers such as Nobel Laureate, Professor Wole Soyinka, Professor Niyi Osundare, Dr Bummi Oyinsan and Dr Wale Okediran, to mention a few, bestowed on her.
Still, that was not her swan song. That was not the last time the world was going to hear about her. That was not the last time she would be celebrated. There are certainly going to be more celebrations. She had earned her immortality by sheer dint of hard work, paving the way for others, especially women across the globe.
She had written her name in gold in the proverbial book of life not just with a golden pen this time but by burning the midnight oil, with her sweat and her never-say-die, irrepressible spirit.
When I had an interview with her to mark her 90th birthday five years ago, she sat majestically in her sitting room in her Surulere, Lagos residence, where shelves adorned with trophies, plaques, books and the various awards she had won in a life marked by string of successes, stood as sentries and proud of the woman with whom they rubbed minds. “People no longer read. I wonder how they live without reading,” she said with a sigh.
Time was a heartbroken lover trying to reclaim its lost love.
She was just recovering from a bout she had had with diarrhea at the time. “I’m not feeling too well”, she confessed. “I’m just recovering from diarrhea.” Yet, she was willing to talk. Her enthusiasm was not just palpable; it was infectious. And it gave the journalists who had come to interview her springs. That had always been her life.
The interview ran for hours, still, she was unrelenting. There was strength in her weak bones, courage in her flagging spirit, resilience in her apparent weakness and her sense of humor lighted up the room, giving it a peculiar glow.
Her fluffy, silvery hair, resplendent like the sun on a gloomy day, cast an aura around her. She was regal, proud of the life she had lived and still wanting to do more for the country she loved so much but which, sadly, had run off the tracks.
Her spare sitting room spoke of an austere life so rich with knowledge and erudition, and it gave off a fragrance that smelled of books, sweet memories and a life filled with accomplishments. At 90, she had a retentive memory that was the stuff of Legend.
“Christopher Okigbo was a funny character, ” she said, reminiscing the day the poet took her bicycle at the University College Ibadan and went away with it for a long time. “I began to feel it was to entice me to come over,” she continued. Asked whether she went over, she said: “Of course, I didn’t go over.”
The interview went on and on, as other journalists sat waiting in the wings with high expectations, as they looked forward with bated breath to have their time. What would you want to be remembered for? I asked, as the chat was winding to a close.
“Well, I am not going to be original in this. I want to be remembered as one who loves his fellow men,” Mabel Segun averred. “That is why I tried to do things to benefit Nigerians. Unfortunately, there are too many people doing the opposite. What can I do?
“I would like this country to be the number one country in Africa. It could be. But we have got such thoroughly selfish people who get the money and don’t even know what to do with it. And because they steal the money, they don’t dare bring it out to do better things.
“Somebody brought down a house somehow. And in no time, had built a three-storey building. Does this area look like a place for three-storey buildings?”
Asked why she seemed to be angry with Nigeria, a country she loved so much? She bared her mind thus: “Because we had the potential to be a great country and every time we take steps backwards, backwards. It’s very painful. It’s very, very painful.
“That’s what I find about this country. We are very selfish people, very selfish people. We never think of other people. What does a man want to do with 10 or 20 houses? What does he want to do with them? Greed. They don’t even know what to do with the money when they have stolen it. And the ones that do it are the most religious people. They are the thieves.”
If she were to come back to this life again, would she come back as a Nigerian?
“I would come back as a changed Nigerian. I won’t let them get as bad as they have gone now. Every time we take one step, we get worse and worse and worse,” she maintained.