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50 Years After The Firsts; Has Ogun Prepared The Next?

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History Is Not a Development Plan


By Abiola Odetola


There is a kind of love that claps. And there is a kind of love that tells the truth. As Ogun State turns 50, it would be easy, maybe also expected to write the familiar tribute, the great names we produced, the firsts we claimed, the achievements we once wore like a crown, or probably eulogize the current governor and government for its many achievements. 


However, Ogun is a state of immense pedigree in Nigeria’s modern story, a place that has repeatedly supplied the country with its thinkers, reformers, builders, and dreamers.


Ogun did not merely participate in Nigeria’s story, it helped write it. But anniversaries are not only for applause. They are also for audit.


If Ogun at 50 is only a celebration, then we have learnt nothing. Because a state that is truly serious about its future does not only praise the past, it interrogates the present and prepares the next fifty years with painful honesty. 
This is that conversation many don’t want to have openly.


I write not as an observer, but as one whose identity is stitched into the Ogun story by birth, by upbringing, by daily realities, and, to the glory of Eledumare, by work and service. I write with the kind of loyalty that does not end at sentiment. I have read about the strides of our forebears, seen Ogun in its pride, and I have lived its contradictions. 


And it is that contradiction that must concern us most today: how can a state with so much history still struggle to translate that inheritance into a consistently rising future?


The danger of Ogun at 50 is not that we will forget our past. The danger is that we will hide inside it.
History should be a foundation, not a hiding place. Legacy should be a launchpad, not a resting mat. A people cannot build tomorrow by endlessly reciting yesterday.


So the harder question must be asked, one that cuts beyond ceremony and nostalgia. Fifty years after the firsts, has Ogun prepared the next?
Ogun’s political history is impossible to tell without invoking towering figures whose ideas reshaped governance, education, federalism, culture, and civic duty in Nigeria. Names like Obafemi Awolowo, Moshood Kashimawo Olawale Abiola, Tai Solarin, Wole Soyinka, Fela Kuti, Olusegun Aremu Obasanjo, Justice Atanda Fatai Williams, and Justice Adetokunbo Ademola did not merely occupy offices or stages; they built ideas that outlived them.


But herein lies our quiet failure: we mastered leadership, but neglected succession.We built icons, but failed to build pipelines. We celebrated brilliance, but did not institutionalise its transfer. We raised legends, but did not systematically prepare replacements.


Political leadership in Ogun has too often become custodial rather than generational, focused on preserving relevance, not preparing successors. The result is a dangerous vacuum where younger people grow up hearing stories of greatness without being handed the tools to recreate it.


So today, we must ask without sentiment and without fear: who is the political leader of Ogun State today in the mould of ideas, not office? Who is thinking about Ogun’s future beyond the next election cycle? Who is grooming the next Awolowo, Solarin, Soyinka, not in personality, but in intellectual rigour and moral courage?


As Ogun marks 50, we also stand at the doorstep of another election season, a moment that will quietly shape not just the next four or eight years, but the next fifty. Yet, the signs are worrying.


The same political warlords, many who have dominated the space for decades and failed the sustainability test from Ijebu to Egba, are sharpening daggers, not to build consensus, but to protect territory. Young professionals, technocrats, reform-minded servants, and emerging leaders are already feeling the weight of suppression, voices muted, ambitions caricatured, innovation treated as insolence.


Personal aspirations have become endless, often at the direct expense of youth inclusion.
This must be said clearly: a generation that will not live in the next fifty years has no moral right to mortgage that future with ego, factional battles, and needless political fracas.


Nature does not tolerate vacuum. Leadership transitions will happen, whether planned or chaotic. The only real question is how prepared the next leaders will be.


Today, many of Ogun’s socio-political and traditional leaders are between the ages of 60 and 90. This is not an insult; it is biology. But wisdom demands something of this reality: intentional transfer of power, knowledge, and responsibility.
Who is engineering young minds towards development rather than desperation? Who is preparing Ogun’s youth for leadership rather than patronage?


One of Ogun’s most painful contradictions is this: our young people are thriving, just not at home.
Across Nigeria and the diaspora, Ogun sons and daughters are holding their own in finance, technology, medicine, law, academia, arts, sports, and entrepreneurship. They are building systems, running companies, shaping policies, and competing globally.


Yet many do not see Ogun as a place where ambition can legally and competitively flourish. Too often, talent is met with suspicion rather than support. New ideas are strangled by old gatekeepers. Young voices are silenced in community and political spaces. Merit is sacrificed on the altar of loyalty. Innovation is treated as rebellion.


We have normalized a culture where young people are told subtly or directly, “wait your turn,” even when the system offers them no real seat at the table.


This culture does not build states. It empties them.


Cultism. Internet fraud. Prostitution. Skill gaps. Hopelessness. These are not moral failures unique to Ogun youth. They are responses to blocked opportunities.


When legitimate pathways are closed, illegitimate ones thrive. When skills are not taught, shortcuts are taken. When voices are suppressed, anger festers.


The real tragedy is this: the same energy that fuels these challenges could power Ogun’s renaissance only if properly channelled.


Youth energy is raw capital. Unrefined, it explodes. Refined, it builds nations.


This is why Ogun must now confront the question it has avoided for too long: where is the Ogun Youth Agenda?


Not youth empowerment as charity. Not youth inclusion as rhetoric. But a deliberate, state-wide youth development framework that treats young people as the primary infrastructure of Ogun’s future.


An Ogun Youth Agenda must be the organising principle of the next ten years, aligning education with skills, industry with apprenticeship, governance with mentorship, and politics with succession. Without this, every other plan will fail, because no state rises above the capacity of its people.


If Ogun is to matter in the next fifty years, youth development cannot be an afterthought. It must be the strategy.


There is a large pool of youth in Ogun State today largely not engaged.


In the long run, Ogun must raise leaders, not just office holders. It must export ideas, not only people. It must become a place where talent can succeed legally, competitively, and sustainably from home. It must position itself not as a feeder state, but as a shaper of Nigeria’s future.
This is not idealism. It is survival.


As we celebrate fifty years, let us ask the question that truly matters: where are the next Awolowo, Mike Adenuga, MKO, Fela, Tai Solarin, Soyinka, Oba Otudeko, Fola Adeola, and many others we all know, not just in name, but in preparation?
More importantly, who is deliberately posturing young Ogun minds for that level of greatness?If the answer is silence, then our celebration is premature.


Ogun’s history is not its destination. It is its responsibility.


Those who built the past deserve honour. But honour does not mean control. At this stage, leadership must be measured not by how long power is held, but by how well it is handed over. Not by how loudly history is invoked, but by how intentionally the future is prepared.


One truth must now guide Ogun beyond 50: history is not a development plan.


Has Ogun prepared the next?


History does not reward inheritance. It rewards stewardship.


The future is already watching.

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How Ogundiya Folarin Oladapo Crossed The Border For Safety

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Ogundiya Folarin Oladapo. Is a Nigerian citizen from Ijebu North Local Government Area of Ogun State. Ago Iwoye, a relative, spoke to our reporter extensively about the whereabouts of Ogundiya and the circumstances that compelled him to flee the country and why he may be scared to return.

According to Mr Iwoye, Ogundiya was faced with persecution and threats to his life owing to his sexual orientation. He was born and raised in Ogun State, Nigeria. He grew up in an environment where family, community, culture and religious beliefs played important roles in everyday life. Ogundiya had always considered his hometown a place of belonging. His family, childhood experiences, friendships and memories were all connected to that environment.

Ogundiya is a quiet, simple and easy-going person. He had never been someone who enjoys conflict or confrontation. His greatest desire was to live an ordinary life, maintain meaningful relationships and build a future for himself.

However, there is a deeply personal aspect of his identity that has made living in Nigeria extremely difficult for him. He is a bisexual. Yes! I don’t think he chose to be so. And it is not something he can simply change because of the expectations of society. His sexual orientation is part of who he is.

Growing up in Nigeria, he understood that same-sex relationships were strongly condemned by many people. He knew that being identified as a gay or a bisexual could result in discrimination, rejection, humiliation, violence and serious legal consequences.

For these reasons, Ogundiya, I presumed, kept his sexuality private. He did not feel safe openly discussing his feelings or relationships. He was constantly conscious of the possible consequences if people discover this aspect of his life.

He was not hiding because he was ashamed of being human. He was hiding because he was afraid of what people might do if they found out.

On 21st September 2026, his life took a frightening turn. His mobile phone was faulty and he needed to make some important calls, so he took his younger brother’s phone, to make a call to his work place, but unfortunately the first message that popped in was that of his partner who had been worried for not reaching him for some days and wanted to pass an important message to him, his brother saw the message first and all the doubt about his sexually orientation was cleared as he has been so suspicious of Ogundiya for some time because of his closeness to his partner whom they always disguised as friends. He immediately reported to other members of his family. Part of the message read:

“Guy, we are in big trouble. Our romantic secret is now public. Someone was monitoring us. Please, stay in the dark for now.”

When he received and understood the seriousness of that message, he became extremely worried. It suggested that someone had been monitoring their private relationship and that information about them had reached other people.

What he had spent a long time keeping private was suddenly exposed.
The discovery also came as a shock to his family because they had not previously known about his bisexuality. He was frightened about their reaction and, more importantly, about the possibility that other people in the community would find out.

The situation quickly escalated, because his brother told one of his friends who also told other people in their small community. Surprisingly, a group of people gathered around his family residence, demanding to see Ogundiya, they were angry about his sexuality and were making threatening statements.

He could hear people saying he is gay and calling for his punishment. Some were demanding that he should be killed through mob justice, while others were threatening to hand him over to the police for prosecution.

At that moment, Ogundiya realised that his life was in danger.
He was terrified when he realised that the people gathering outside were looking for him.
He could not confidently rely on anyone to protect him and he knew that remaining inside the house could expose him to serious harm.

In the confusion, Ogundiya managed to escape through a latrine window and made his way into the nearby alleyways.

He left without shoes and sustained bruises during his escape; no opportunity to collect his belongings or make any proper arrangements. The only important things he managed to take with him were his passport and a small envelope containing some emergency money.

As he moved away from the house, people were shouting accusations and threatening to deal with him because of his sexuality, some of their allegations were that if he is allowed to stay alive that he will influence younger people in the community. “As for me, as his relative, I can’t contribute to harming him because I didn’t create him.” Owoye said.

Ogundiya was deeply frightened. He could not believe that the place where he had grown up and lived with his family had suddenly become somewhere he could no longer feel safe.

He had not committed any act of violence against anybody. He was being threatened because of his sexual orientation and a private relationship. But to be honest, both our tradition and the government law forbid such practices among men. Even women are forbidden to indulge in same sex relations, it is a grievous taboo and it could attract serious consequences such as death, Iwoye said.

“The possibility of being attacked by a mob was particularly frightening because he knew how such situations could become uncontrollable. He was also afraid of being arrested and prosecuted under Nigeria’s laws concerning same-sex relationships.”

But the public may want to know how he fled the country? I can only attribute it to divine powers. Because all of us are sinners. Maybe the Almighty God has not finished with him.

However, Ogundiya told me that initially, he considered relocating to another state in Nigeria. He thought that perhaps moving far away from Ogun State would allow him to start again without the people who had threatened him knowing where he was.

However, the more he considered this option, the more afraid he became.His concern was that the hostility towards people with his sexual orientation was not limited to his hometown. He feared that he could face similar treatment elsewhere if his sexuality became known.
He was also worried about the legal consequences of being identified as bisexual and the possibility of being reported to the authorities.

He did not believe that simply moving to another state would provide lasting protection. He could potentially spend the rest of his life hiding his identity, avoiding relationships and constantly worrying about being discovered.
He, therefore, began looking for a way to leave Nigeria.

His decision was not motivated by a desire to abandon his family, culture or country. He left because he was afraid for his life and believed that remaining in Nigeria would expose him to further persecution.

Because he had limited resources and did not know how to arrange a safe journey out of Nigeria, he began looking for assistance.

During this period, he came into contact with a man named Chinedu, who was from the eastern part of Nigeria.

He told him that he could facilitate his movement across the border into a neighbouring country. He demanded a substantial amount of money for the journey and assured Ogundiya that he could help him get across.

He was desperate to leave Nigeria. He was frightened, vulnerable and had very few alternatives. He eventually paid the amount he requested because he believed that Chinedu would help him reach safely.

Unfortunately, the journey did not turn out as he had expected.
At some point during the journey, he was taken to a rural transit camp. The location was unfamiliar to him and he had limited access to money, communication and independent means of travelling.

Ogundiya became increasingly dependent on Chinedu because he did not know the area or how to continue the journey alone.

It was during this period that Chinedu allegedly began taking advantage of his vulnerability.
He experienced sexual molestation, physical coercion and intimidation. Ogundiya was subjected to unwanted advances and pressure, accompanied by threats that he could be abandoned or handed over to local police or hostile individuals.

He felt completely helpless. The person he had trusted to help him escape danger had become another source of danger.

He was particularly frightened because he had already experienced threats in Nigeria and did not want to find himself in another situation where his sexuality could be used against him.

The experience affected Ogundiya deeply. He felt violated, humiliated and emotionally overwhelmed. He found it difficult to speak about what had happened because of the shame and fear associated with the experience.

He had left his home in search of safety, but he found himself being exploited by someone who knew how desperate he was.

Eventually, he found an opportunity to escape from the transit camp.
He left during the night and began walking along isolated dirt roads. He did not have a reliable means of transportation, and he was uncertain about where the roads would lead.

He continued walking because he was afraid of being discovered and taken back.
After walking for several miles, he eventually reached a major humanitarian post near the border. By then, he was physically exhausted and visibly distressed.

He stopped to rest because he was struggling to continue walking.
He was pale, tired and emotionally drained. He had experienced more than he could easily explain, and he desperately needed assistance.

While he was resting near the humanitarian post, a Nigerian man travelling by car towards the neighbouring country noticed him.
He stopped his vehicle and approached Ogundiya. He introduced himself as Olamide, a Yoruba man from Osun State.

Initially, Ogundiya was afraid to speak to him. After his last experience with Chinedu, he found it difficult to trust another stranger.
However, when he discovered that Olamide was also Yoruba, he became a little more comfortable.

Eventually, he explained what had happened to him to Olamide. He told him about the threats against him in Ogun State, the circumstances surrounding his escape from home, his journey with Chinedu and the exploitation he had experienced at the transit camp.

Ogundiya became emotional while explaining everything because the experience had been extremely traumatic.
Olamide listened to him and appeared deeply affected by his account.

Olamide told Ogundiya that his circumstances reminded him of his younger biological brother, who had reportedly experienced a similar situation after his bisexuality became known.

He explained that his brother had narrowly escaped mob violence and had subsequently been assisted in travelling to Europe because of fears of persecution and prosecution in Nigeria.

Olamide introduced himself as a member of the International Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC) and said he would try to assist Ogundiya in finding safety abroad.

He promised to help arrange his journey to Europe, where he could seek protection and have an opportunity to rebuild his life.

At that point, he was emotionally exhausted and uncertain about what would happen next. However, his offer gave Ogundiya some hope that he might finally escape the circumstances that had placed his life in danger.

A few weeks after meeting Olamide, he fulfilled his promise and arranged for Ogundiya to travel to Dublin, Ireland.

His arrival in Ireland was a significant moment in his life. He had gone through fear, uncertainty, threats, exploitation and a difficult journey before eventually reaching a place where he could seek protection.

He was relieved to have reached Ireland, although the experiences he had gone through continued to affect him emotionally.

He is afraid to return to Nigeria because the circumstances that forced him to leave have not been resolved.
His sexuality was exposed in his community, and he was threatened by people who wanted to punish him because of it.

He fears that if he returns, he could be recognised, exposed again or subjected to further threats and violence.

Ogundiya is also afraid of the possibility of being reported to the police and facing prosecution under the laws criminalising same-sex relationships and conduct.

The experience of escaping from his family home remains deeply distressing. He remembered having to leave through the window, without shoes or belongings, because he feared what the people outside might do to him

He also cannot forget the exploitation he experienced during his journey. He had trusted someone because he was desperate to escape persecution, only to find himself in another frightening situation.

These experiences have made him fearful of returning to the circumstances from which he escaped.

He did not believe that moving to another part of Nigeria would necessarily resolve his difficulties. His concern is that the underlying hostility and legal risks associated with his sexual orientation would remain.

He wanted to live in a place where he could exist without constantly fearing that his identity would become a reason for violence, humiliation or imprisonment.

He did not leave Nigeria because he wanted to abandon his country or because he was looking for an easier life elsewhere.

He left because he was frightened for his safety and believed that he had no realistic way of protecting himself in the circumstances he faced.

He lost the security of his home, became separated from the people and surroundings he had known throughout his life, and experienced further exploitation while trying to escape.

The journey to Ireland was difficult, but it offered him an opportunity to seek protection and live with dignity.

He respectfully asks the Irish authorities to consider his circumstances, the threats he experienced, his sexual orientation, the circumstances of his departure from Nigeria and his genuine fear of returning.

He wanted an opportunity to rebuild his life without having to hide who he is or live under the constant threat of violence and persecution.

What can one do? Here in Nigeria, same sex relationships are prohibited and myself and others of his relatives wish that he lives his life as his God created him. Ogundiya had wanted a simple life without fear or threat of prosecution.

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