A personal tribute to my uncle, whose life of sacrifice, activism, and family devotion shaped not only a nation but my own story.

Beginnings Before Birth

Chief Gani Fawehinmi was my maternal uncle, my mother’s immediate elder brother. My story with him began even before my birth. After my parents’ first child, a girl, was stillborn, my uncle personally took my mother to Lagos to ensure a safe delivery. That is how my twin brother and I came into the world at LUTH, Idi-Araba. At the time, being born at LUTH was like being born abroad, it was seen as the safest place possible. He made that happen for us.

My earliest conscious memory of him came at about six years old in Ado-Ekiti, where we then lived. He visited my father’s office at the now, defunct National Bank of Nigeria while handling a client’s case. I remember him pulling out a massive wallet overflowing with cash, the notes protruding beyond its capacity, and handing me a wad. That image stayed with me, a child’s awe at a man whose presence filled the room.

Saint Joseph’s College: His Work Precedes Him

Later, when my grandmother told him I wished to attend Saint Joseph’s College, Ondo, he drove me there himself. I was ushered into the office of the principal, Rev. Father Adegoke. I can never forget his words to the admissions officer:
“Chief has given many of our children here scholarships. This is his nephew, he must be admitted.”

That moment showed me a truth that would echo throughout my life: his work and his goodwill always preceded him.

Reading His Activism

When we later relocated to Ondo, my awareness of him grew. I would read newspapers aloud to my grandmother, and in those pages I discovered his struggles, his activism, and his courage. His public life stirred my social consciousness long before I could articulate it.

Faith and Tension in Adolescence

At 16, I became deeply involved in Deeper Life Ministry. My grandmother and mother feared it was a cult, though they were wrong about that conclusion, and bundled me to Lagos for my uncle to intervene. He sat me down, reasoned with me, and urged me to withdraw. Outwardly, I obeyed, though inwardly I continued.

In hindsight, that experience helped me better understand conviction, even when misunderstood. It was a seed that later matured when I became, consciously, a person of faith at 27.

Moving to Lagos: A Turning Point

After secondary school, my twin brother and I longed to move to Lagos. My mother spoke to him on our behalf. He said “yes” without hesitation, and that “yes” changed our lives. At 18, I followed him everywhere, courts, rallies, conferences.

I was present at the 1989 Conference on Structural Adjustment Program(SAP), in Lagos, where Pa Michael Imoudu, Tai Solarin, Edwin Madunagu, and Eskor Toyo spoke. When the police stormed the event, arresting him alongside other leaders, I watched as he was taken first to Panti Police Station and then to Gusua Prison. I had read about his activism in newspapers; now I witnessed it in flesh and blood.

LASU: When Work Precedes You

After I successfully completed my pre-law program, which he had discovered, registered me for, and insisted I pursue personally drove me back to LASU to secure admission into the main law program.

I will never forget that moment in the Dean’s office. The Dean, Dr. Yerokun, gathered his colleagues and declared:

“Chief Gani Fawehinmi is here. He has given our faculty complimentary copies of the Nigerian Weekly Law Reports for years. His nephew is eminently qualified, we must admit him.”

Once again, his work had gone before him. Not my grades, not my voice, but his reputation opened the door for me.

The Buckingham University Chapter

During a prolonged ASUU strike, he sought to send me abroad to Buckingham University for a two-year law program. He even obtained the forms and began the process. But when the strike ended, I remained at LASU.

Law School: A Supplementary List in Print

Later, when I could not immediately secure admission into the Nigerian Law School due to limited slots, he intervened once more. He wrote to the Director-General, and I personally delivered the letter. The DG read it and said:
“Greet the Chief for me. He has been giving free copies of the Nigerian Weekly Law Reports to this school. We are making arrangements for a supplementary list. He will not be disappointed.”

For the first time in the school’s history, my admission appeared in a supplementary list publicly printed in a national newspaper. That was the weight of his name.

And beyond opening doors, he bore the cost. He funded my university education, my law school, and my call to bar.

Conflict, Reconciliation, and Support

Yet our journey was not without conflict. His expectation was that I would join his chambers after graduation. I refused, sensing a different calling. For two years we went back and forth. One day, I even reported to his law firm. He was overjoyed, showed me my desk, and welcomed me warmly. But by evening, I walked away.

Eventually, at my younger sister’s wedding, he looked at me and said:
“From now on, I support whatever you want to do.”

Soon after, he gifted me my first car, a Peugeot 504 hatchback, and ₦50,000.

Even then, he continued to draw me into his orbit. I became a member of the editorial board of the Nigerian Weekly Law Reports, this time on merit. When he later saw me on Funmi Iyanda’s NTA program, he hugged me at an editorial meeting and said:
“Taiye, I saw you. That was brilliant.”

A Man of Family and Sacrifice

His devotion extended beyond activism to family. At my wedding, though scheduled to fly to Abuja, he came early for the introduction, stayed through, and missed his flight. He signed my marriage certificate in place of my mother. He was at the engagement, the wedding, and the reception. His presence was his gift, greater than anything money could buy.

The last time I saw him, two weeks before his passing, cancer had weakened his body but not his spirit. He was still laughing, still in high spirits. That was Chief: unbowed to the end.

The Lesson of His Life

Sixteen years have passed, but to me, it feels like yesterday. Chief Gani Fawehinmi was many things to many people: lawyer, activist, defender of the voiceless. To me, he was Uncle—the man whose sacrifices, presence, and example shaped my path.

Everywhere we went, one truth echoed: his work preceded him. At Saint Joseph’s College, LASU, the Nigerian Law School, doors opened not by his wealth or position, but by his reputation for service, generosity, and justice. That is the legacy I carry: let your work precede you.

 Looking Ahead

One day, I hope to write a full book—not just about the public icon the world reveres, but about the uncle I knew: the man who helped bring me safely into this world, who drove me to school, who wrote letters on my behalf, who fought me and loved me in equal measure, and who left a flame no darkness can extinguish.

Conclusion

Sixteen years on, I miss him deeply. My heart is full of gratitude, not because his support was my right, but because it was a privilege he freely extended. Chief Gani Fawehinmi ran his race. He fought for justice. He gave to family. He lived for others.

And even now, his voice whispers the lesson that shaped me: Let your work go before you. Let it speak louder than your presence. Let it open doors for others.

That was the Chief I knew. That is the uncle I still carry with me.