Adeola Randolph – A Lad’s Lad

by  Akintunde Oyebode

I got the idea to do this post at 6:30am yesterday on St. Valentine’s Day, aboard the 7:02am Dana Air flight from Lagos to Abuja. The last time I was on this flight, it was with two of my classmates from ISL. It was filled with lots of banter and a genuine feeling of love as we set out on our daily struggles. One of those men is no longer with us, and this is for him.

Adeola and I were not best mates. He was the troublesome kid with a sharp tongue I was tempted to smack in the face during our time at ISL. I remember him as the witty kid who could paralyze your brain (and fists) with his stinging ‘yabs’ all day long. He was also an enthusiastic footballer, albeit with limited talent, as I never failed to remind him.

Growing up we all found our paths, and he ended up at Coventry, later at University of East London. I found him in Lagos a few years ago, he had moved home to work in Oil & Gas, and we continued to meet in random places thereafter, mainly in the large Lagos social network. In all those meetings, he was unchanged, the smile was permanent, an ebullient spirit, at home in any and every circle he found himself.

My job demanded I understood the downstream oil industry, and he was one of the guys I called for advice. He took an hour of his airtime to explain the dynamics of the petrol and diesel importation to me, and when he found me unable to comprehend such ‘simple’ matters over the phone; we met up somewhere in Victoria Island for a lesson. By the way, he paid for my drinks too. That was quintessential Randy B.

The last time I saw him on that flight, I teased him about the current fuel subsidy probe, and he reminded me that in the midst of what was a major national scandal, honest businesses existed. He signed off saying he hoped the probe will separate the wheat from the chaff.

I woke up on the 7th of February to pictures, status updates and messages on my blackberry messenger. They all said one thing. Our friend and brother, Adeola Randolph was dead. It was a strong contradiction to a man whose display picture showed him jet skiing on the Lagos lagoon with a status update that said “Living in the Sky.”

For an inexplicable reason I remembered visiting his house on Ikorodu Road, and how his dad’s library introduced me to the world of Robert Ludlum and Tom Clancy. I was transported to the carefree period of the 90’s, when we were boys, with no worries apart from how good (or bad) the report card looked or what present(s) to get that pretty girl in SS1 Jade on Valentine’s Day. Then I came back to the present, and wondered if life was worth it at all. The time spent slaving at work, running to catch a plane, having a drink at Rehab or going off to a beach house. It shocked me that such a bubbly character could be snatched abruptly, and in one moment that jovial body became lifeless.

So as I board this plane, I am reminded of my own mortality by oft-repeated words of John Donne “never ask for whom the bell tolls, it tolls for thee.” In the grief that envelopes us all, I am comforted by these verses from Robert Binyon in the poem penned for War Heroes, “For the Fallen.”

They shall grow not old, as we that are left to grow old / Age shall not weary them nor the years condemn / At the going down of the sun and in the morning / We will remember them.

As the stars that shall be bright when we are dust / Moving in marches upon the heavenly plain / As the stars that are starry in the time of our darkness / To the end, to the end, they remain

And to my departed compadré:

May the road rise to meet you / May the wind be always at your back / May the sun shine warm upon your face /And rains fall soft upon your fields / And until we meet again / May God hold you in the palm of his hand.

The world is a poorer place without you. Rest in Peace, Mr. Randolph (19/05/1979 – 07/02/2012)

 

 

Listen to SDC’s tribute to Adeola “Kobain” Randolp – One Day

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