Fellow Nigerians, I started what would easily pass for my mini-biography last week in this column. The response from readers has been truly humbling. It is not easy starting a career with a bang and maintaining the ovation consistently for 30 years, and still counting. My story reassures us that our youths can still achieve a lot if they work very hard and tenaciously on their dreams. I was certainly not born with spoons, be it bronze, silver or gold, but education opened my eyes to uncommon possibilities. Rather than bemoan my humble background or begrudge successful people or government officials, as architects of my poor economic condition, I arrived Lagos in 1988 with a vengeance. I promised myself something; I will work as if work was going out of vogue, and I would leave the rest to God to sort out. And God answered my prayers beyond my asking. Things happened so fast and till this day, I’m still in a daze, some kind of wondrous haze.

I stopped last week at the point I became the pioneer Editor of Leaders & Company, the parent of Thisday newspapers. There are lessons to be learnt from my uncommon trajectory. Please, let me rewind a bit. When I was leaving Ile-Ife to seek greener pastures in Lagos, my dream was to work for only one newspaper, The Guardian, owned by the great Publisher, Mr Alex Ibru. I was equally attracted by the powerful assemblage of superstar writers in The Guardian: Olatunji Dare, Stanley Macebuh, Yemi Ogunbiyi, Onwuchekwa Jemie, Chinweizu, Sully Abu, Andy Akporugo, Odia Ofeimun, Edwin Madunagu, Patrick Dele Cole, Femi Osofisan, Sonala Olumhense, Onukaba Adinoyi-Ojo, Amma Ogan, Greg Obong-Oshotse, and others, who worked there. They were first and world class. For any budding writer at the time, your dream was to work or write, every now and then, for The Guardian. Though the Concord Press of Nigeria, owned by Chief Moshood Abiola, was a much bigger media empire, with different publications, in English, Hausa, Yoruba and Igbo languages, every person of intellectual bent queued up patiently to appear in The Guardian. It was the Holy Grail of Nigerian Press.

Many of us had our biases against Chief MKO Abiola, who had acquired many unprintable sobriquets and nomenclature.  Some of the more palatable ones included Islamic fundamentalist, friend of the military, American agent, and all sorts. I therefore joined the Concord most reluctantly, and mainly out of desperation. Little did I know, that it was working within this organisation that would be the springboard to my successful career in journalism and public relations. Prior to that, I was writing on the opinion page of The Guardian to keep my body and soul together. On joining the Concord, I realised Abiola had been a veritable victim of the most malicious campaign of calumny. Though he was not a saint, he definitely was not the demon he had been painted to be, particularly by legendary musician, social critic and kinsman, Fela Anikulapo-Kuti. I learnt many lessons for working for Chief Abiola from 1988-90, two years that now seemed like eternity.

I discovered the real Abiola. He was totally detribalised. He never practised quota system. No one asked about our State of origin or religion. It was immaterial that you were male or female. Christians held some of the most important positions in his organisation, at different times. We had and heard of non-Yoruba names like MCK Ajuluchukwu, Tom Borha, Stanley Egbochukwu, Nsikak Essien, Rose Umoren, Chike Akabogu (of blessed memory), Sam Omatseye, Lewis Obi, Ben Okezie, Yakubu Mohammed, Ray Ekpu, Dele Giwa, Nosa Igiebor, Nnamdi Obasi, May Ellen Ezekiel, Richard Mofe-Damijo, Dimgba Igwe, Ohi Alegbe, Betty Irabor… I can go on and on. All that qualified you for a job with Concord was that you had intellect or flair, or both. Journalists enjoyed substantial freedom, except on several and specific occasions when the military governments vehemently protested against certain stories and threatened hell fire and brimstone. We had a bush canteen where we committed sins of gluttony and alcoholism. Most journalists smoked like chimneys and were never discriminated or recriminated against by our amazing Chairman. He gave everyone his due and was probably the most generous employer of his time.

No one ever missed an opportunity to visit Chairman’s house in Ikeja. A visit would always guarantee some hefty gift, mostly cash. I remember an occasion when Babafemi Ojudu and I went to interview him. He made sure he arranged some substantial taxi fare for us, despite being the one paying our salaries. Our colleagues at work were endlessly jealous of our good fortune. On another occasion, our Managing Director, Dr Doyinsola Abiola had sent me on errand to secure the music star, Sir Shina Peters, for a performance at Chairman’s house where he was hosting the Super Eagles national team. Job done, I went to Chairman’s house to give a positive feedback and he was very elated. Abiola was a Master of appreciation. He must have noticed the rubbish wristwatch I adorned so proudly on my wrist and he entered his bedroom and came back with a solid gold watch which he gifted to me.

On several occasions, I had the privilege of listening to our Chairman as he explained his many battles and how he won most of them. He was a naturally affable personality (I liked to call him the spellbinder in many of my reports on him) and so it was not surprising that he had friends in high and low places. Did he take advantage of his extensive global connections and networks? Who wouldn’t? But he didn’t do business for the benefit of himself and family alone. He was the modern-day Santa Claus who spent lavishly on virtually all those who came in contact with him. His generosity was legendary. He represented one of Africa’s biggest business interests, ITT, in Africa and the Middle East, and so the accusation of him being an American agent was not surprising even if far-fetched. The lesson I learnt was not to judge anyone without cast-iron evidence. This attitude would help me and my business of journalism in years to come. As a matter of policy, I learnt not to attack viciously but to present my story in a fair and balanced manner and let the readers be the judge and interpreter.