Eni tí ẹ̀gún bá ń lé, kó má rọ̀ ra. Bí ó ṣe ń ré ara ayé, ló ń ré ara ọ̀run.

Literal Meaning:

If you are being pursued by a masquerade, you should persevere and not give up. Just as humans grow weary, so too do heavenly beings, of which the masquerade is considered a representative.

As I conversed with Dele Farotimi yesterday morning, who was at the Federal High Court in Ado Ekiti regarding cyberbullying charges initiated by Chief Afe Babalola over his book, Nigeria and Its Criminal Justice System, a case that has now been withdrawn, the words of Baba Ademola Adesina Ogunlana came to mind. With these words, he would sign off his Learned Squib column in Squib Magazine: “Heaven Will Not Fall.”

I vividly recall the day I received a call from Mr. Farotimi’s personal assistant, informing me of his abrupt and forceful abduction. It was not just his safety that concerned me, but also the troubling reality that such a primitive act could not only be conceived but executed in broad daylight in the most populous Black nation in the world in 2024. A campaign for his release swiftly followed, one in which I had the opportunity to participate across various forums, whether by speaking or observing.

While he garnered substantial support, a faction remained convinced that he had committed an irreparable act, hara-kiri, and that his fate was sealed. Some even held press conferences to denounce him. I particularly recall a discussion on X, where a group appeared to have convened solely to vilify him. Amidst the hostility, however, Dr. Ope Banwo stood out as a steadfast voice in his defense.

While he was in prison, there was a series of legal battles: charges before the Magistrate Court, the Federal High Court, numerous civil cases, and a matter before the Legal Practitioners Disciplinary Committee, a 90-page petition that was ultimately dismissed.

Reflecting on these events, the unsolicited withdrawal and the Legal Practitioners Disciplinary Committee’s dismissal of the petition before it without Dele Farotimi lifting a finger, I came to a profound realization: the world belongs to those who dare. Daring is rarely convenient and often comes with significant consequences, yet it remains the path to progress.

This brings to mind a story once told by Baba Ogunlana, the story of an Abobaku. In Yoruba tradition, an Abobaku is a person chosen to die alongside the king upon the monarch’s passing. This ancient practice was rooted in the belief that a king should not enter the afterlife alone; his most loyal servant must accompany him in death. But this particular Abobaku was different. Instead of offering prayers for the king’s peaceful passage, as tradition demanded, he did something unthinkable, he began to curse the king. The priests, shocked by such defiance, declared his actions an abomination. And in a dramatic twist of fate, the very system that had condemned him to death set him free.

The Abobaku dared to challenge the system, and in doing so, he escaped the fate that history had written for him. His story is the story of every dissenter, every reformer, every voice that refuses to be silenced.

It is the story of Galileo, who stood against the Catholic Church, refusing to renounce his belief that the Earth revolves around the Sun, a truth that contradicted the dogma of his time.

It is the story of King Sunny Ade, who defied the seemingly unstoppable influence of Chief Bolarinwa Abioro to forge a new path for himself and, in the process, revolutionized the Nigerian music industry.

This is the story of Olakunle Soriyan, who spent 12 years pursuing a 4-year degree. Refusing to surrender to the constraints of time, he defied temporal arithmetic and went on to achieve remarkable feats in the world. His journey serves as an inspiration for others to confront their doubts, embrace resilience, and, as he often says, ‘beat their portion out of life.'”

It is the story of Omoyele Sowore, who confronted the cult conglomerates that held sway over University of Lagos, nearly paying with his life for daring to resist an entrenched system.

It is the story of Chief Gani Fawehinmi, who waged an unrelenting war against Nigeria’s legal system, advocating for the democratization of law practice and enduring persecution for his defiance.

It is the story of Baba Ogunlana, who, through The Squib Magazine, fearlessly exposed corruption and judicial incompetence, even at great personal risk.

And then, there is Fethullah Gülen, the Turkish cleric who dared to challenge an entire government. Gülen confronted the Turkish establishment and, as a result, spent decades in exile in the United States. Yet, exile did not diminish his influence. From afar, he built the Hizmet movement, a vast educational and humanitarian network that impacted millions worldwide. He remained a thorn in the flesh of authoritarian power, and his legacy endures even after his death in 2024.

Though he never had biological children, he mentored and transformed the lives of countless individuals across the globe.

This is not a eulogy for concluded battles. It is a manifesto for the eternal dare. The war for a New Nigeria persists, but each act resistance and the victory thereof etches a spirit of possibilities in the annals of collective consciousness. To paraphrase Camus: “The only way to deal with an unfree world is to become so absolutely free that your very existence is an act of rebellion.”

We must dare constructively, lawfully, relentlessly to question, to hold power accountable to damn consequences. For in the words of the old Marxist maxim Farotimi channeled: “Dare to struggle, dare to win.” The Abobaku’s curse, Galileo’s whisper, Gülen’s exile, these are not defeats, but seismic tremors in the tectonic plates of history. Heaven will not fall. It never does.