Like every child, I was born with a kind of rebellion inside me, what Pastor Olakunle Soriyan refers to as ‘creative rebellion,’ the instinct to question, to probe, to resist taking anyone’s word as final. My handlers tried to beat it out of me, but a part of it survived. I saw its first clear manifestation in Primary 5 or 6 when I spoke sharply to a teacher, and she burst into tears.

Only a handful of people in my life have ever recognised, nurtured, and protected that part of me. I can count them on my fingertips.

None of them were people I chased.
They found me.
They recognised something in me.
And they invested in it.

In primary school, one teacher saw it.
In secondary school, one teacher saw it.
But in the university, one man stood out, Professor Siyan Oyeweso.

Let me say this clearly: I did not know Professor Oyeweso through his prodigious academic work.

I am not an academician or a historian qualified to analyse that aspect of his legacy. Others will speak to that excellence.

I knew him through his impact in my life, and that is the testimony I bring today.

A Courageous Ally in a Turbulent Season

I read Law at Lagos State University through a court injunction that was not finally resolved until my final year. By 200 level, I had already been shown the way out of the school once. Yet I became deeply involved in the Students’ Union, Director of Welfare, Presidential candidate, National Mobilisation Officer of NANS, Chairman of my Faculty Electoral Committee. I went full circle.

And I also stepped on full circles of toes, students, lecturers, university authorities, everybody.
I had meetings where I was the only student in a room full of principal officers, Vice Chancellor, Dean of Law, Chief Librarian, Chief Security Officer, University Registrar, warning me that they had intelligence I was planning to shut down the university.

I was not violent.
We engaged constructively.
But that did not stop lecturers and administrators from keeping their distance. Associating with us was dangerous, costly, career-threatening.

Only very few lecturers stood with us.
And Professor Siyan Oyeweso was one of those rare few.

He was not in my faculty. He was in the Humanities. Yet he saw something in me, something worth defending. He would send for me:

“Taiwo, it is your name they are mentioning in Senate. Take it easy. They want to expel you again. We are the ones defending you.”

He would invite me to his office, counsel me, encourage me to be wise without killing my fire. He would stop me when passing the Law Faculty corridor just to say:

“Taiwo, continue your activism, but be careful. You can talk to me.”

He staked his name for me, publicly, not secretly.

Few people loved us then, but those who did, loved us deeply.

And those who hated our cause, hated it passionately.

A Personal Story I Can Never Forget

After graduation, my younger brother, Akin Akinlami Akin Fola, passed his JAMB and needed admission into LASU. Naturally, I went to Professor Oyeweso as an ally. He gave us an appointment, graciously told me I didn’t need to come, and took my brother personally to Dr. Kunle Lawal, then Dean of History or so. I don’t recall his position at the time.

Professor Oyeweso introduced my brother as his candidate, and the Dr.Lawal checked his credentials and agreed to admit him.

But the moment Professor Oyeweso mentioned that he was was Taiwo Akinlami’s brother on their way out, Dr. Lawal stood up, visibly vibrating:

“I cannot admit Taiwo Akinlami’s brother.”

And rescinded the decision instantly.

My brother returned home dejected and shared the ordeal with me.

This is why today’s tribute matters.
Because for every person who shut doors in my face, there were people like Professor Oyeweso holding doors open, often at personal cost.

A Tribute to Courage, Loyalty, and Humanity

This tribute is not about his academic greatness, though it was vast.
This tribute is to courage.
To loyalty.
To humane leadership.
To a man who believed in me when it was costly to do so.

He stood with us publicly.
He defended us before the Senate.
He encouraged my creative rebellion when others tried to kill it.

That is the Professor Oyeweso I knew.
That is the man I honour today.

My Regret, and My Lesson

I regret that I did not keep in touch.
I regret that I am writing this after his passing.
I regret that I did not remind him in his lifetime what he meant to me as a young man searching for his path.

But I take the lesson:
Give people their flowers while they are alive.
Celebrate them.
Tell them what they mean to you.
Encourage them while they can still hear it.

Adieu, Sir

Professor Oyeweso’s impact cannot be lost.
He remains a permanent part of my formation, a voice that steadied me at a critical junction of destiny.

I pray that God will grant his family, his colleagues and beyond, and all who loved him the fortitude to bear his departure.

Adieu, Sir.
And thank you, for seeing me.
For defending me.
For believing in the uncommon rebellion inside me when very few did.

Your legacy lives, in history, yes, but also in me.