Bitter-Sweet: My life with Obasanjo:Mohammed settled me to save Govt from embarrassment
Written by Oluremi Obasanjo
Monday, 10 November 2008
Page 7 of 7
Last Friday,
'He grabbed Mohammed by the collar, in the presence of other officers, and challenged him to a due They were both in uniform. Brigadiers in the Nigerian Army!'

Mohammed settled me to save Govt from embarrasssment
I spent the night in Obasanjo’s house that day. On August 7, I phoned Lt. Akintunde Akisehinwa, ADC to Brig. Muhammed, to inform him I was in Obasanjo’s house. He was happy and told me to lie low as God seemed to be answering my prayers. I later inspected the rooms where the children were staying. It was deplorable. There was a sink with a broken pipe in their room from which water seeped on the carpet. I concluded the damp room must have led to Dayo’s death —possibly from pneumonia. I cleaned up the room and cooked for the children. I was not happy that they were eating in their bedrooms so I directed that they should do all the eating in the dining room downstairs. After about five days’ stay, Mrs. Ade Ajayi, our family friend, came and pleaded for reconciliation. I promised her I would do everything humanly possible to ensure a new chapter began in the story of my life with Obasanjo.
While Mrs. Ajayi was around, Obasanjo’s sister, Adunni Oluwola, whose children were also staying at Lugard, arrived. The moment Mrs. Ajayi left, Sister Adunni went into a tirade. She accused me of starving her children and blaming the Obasanjos for my daughter’s death. I told her I only said all children in the house should not eat in the bedroom upstairs but at the dining room downstairs. And that I had left to God the cause of Dayo’s death.

I did not accuse anyone. But she said I should leave, otherwise she would take her children away and not come back there. The cook in the house also corroborated my story but she would not be pacified. She left with her children. Obasanjo later told me to pack my things and go back to where I came from as Dayo’s death was no excuse for me to return, more so as his sister had also taken her children.

Later that night, I knocked on Obasanjo’s door and told him I had nowhere to go. I said my children were in their father’s house and that was where I belonged. As for his sister, she had rightly taken her children to their father’s house. If my submission sounded logical to me, Obasanjo did not think so. He told me to wait for him. When he emerged, he was in shorts and a short sleeve shirt. He slapped me twice and ran after me as I fled down the stairs. Titi Sodeinde ran after him, begging him not to beat me in my pregnant state. I was in my pyjamas.

Obasanjo listened to her on condition that I left the house. I left in my pyjamas and was staying with the soldiers downstairs when an important visitor came in. It was Chief MKO Abiola. I was hopeful that he would be able to talk to my husband. So I lay in the driveway. But Abiola’s mission had no room for my plight that night. He simply hopped out of the car to see Obasanjo. I stayed in the compound that night. Through Titi Sodeinde’s help, I was able to change my dress the next day and leave Obasanjo’s house once again.

I later found out that Mrs. Mowo Sofowora, Obasanjo’s concubine, was expected back from an overseas trip the day I was forced out. She was going to spend the night with her lover and my presence would have been an avoidable nuisance. So Sister Adunni contrived the crisis that enjoyed her brother’s support simply to get me out.

I later visited Gen Muhammed in August 1975 to let him know the developments. When I first arrived at Dodan Barracks, seat of his government, the guards would not let me in. I caused so much fuss that I was later allowed to see the ADC, Lt. Akinsehinwa, who was kind enough to come to the gate to usher me in. I later saw the Head of State, who reminded M. D. Yusuf of my need for an apartment in Surulere. It was Yusuf who later arranged a flat for me at 19, Lawrence Road to save the young government from embarrassment. I was also given a car, driver, an Igbo, fondly called “Baba Ngozi,” a new set of furniture and money.

Both asked me to withdraw the civil suit, seeking to dissolve my marriage with Obasanjo. In my suit for divorce, I had asked for alimony of N10,000 a month, supporting my plea with a list of Obasanjo’s assets in the country to prove that it was within his means. I learnt that Samuel Gomsu Ikoku caught whiff of the suit and reported to Yusuf, pointing out the damage it could do to the new administration. When Yusuf first approached Obasanjo, the latter dismissed the matter with his characteristic bravado.

Later, he calmed down and it was he who sought out Yusuf to persuade me to withdraw the suit. I duly directed my lawyer, Fawehinmi, to do so. The matter was only heard twice. Obasanjo was represented by Chief Kehinde Sofola. I did in appreciation of all Muhammed and Yusuf had done for me.

It was later that Obasanjo surreptitiously contrived a divorce with a judge of the Lagos High Court to dissolve the marriage. I was never served any summons. I should at least be a party in my own cause. Stories said he rigged the divorce. They said he secretly filed for a divorce. The case was never listed. I did not file any affidavit because no court brought any suit to my notice.

The story by those who should know is that one afternoon, after closing from work; he changed into mufti and drove in a Volkswagen Beetle car to the High Court to meet the judge, who helped him to concoct the divorce. Excitedly, he told Yusuf next day that he was free of me as the marriage had been dissolved in court. Yusuf asked me if I had re-filed my suit for divorce. I replied in the negative. He did not elaborate.

Happenings in government during Obasanjo’s 2nd term in office as president of the Federal Republic about a bill from the National Assembly being doctored and signed surreptitiously into law did not surprise me. If a divorce could be plotted and obtained without the participation of the other side, what else can’t happen with my man?

To the glory of God, I delivered my baby at St. Nicholas Hospital on September 24, 1975. The pain was unusual. I was reluctant to go home. The nurses did not quite understand my plight and teased me that I wanted to stay in the hospital. Eventually, I left. I sent the hospital bill to Obasanjo. He refused to pay. I referred the matter to M. D. Yusuf who settled it. When it came to naming the child, he refused to send a name. I christened my daughter, Enitan (child of destiny). I could understand his bitterness.

Obasanjo, edged on by Fajinmi, did not know I would deliver my baby. Both men had attended the second court session of the suit I filed, thinking I would be in court. I was told they came with some spiritualists who were to pray dangerous prayers against me. My problems were not over. At home, the excruciating pains continued. I drank painkillers, whiskey, anything to kill the pain. Yet, the pains continued.

I was rushed from Lawrence Road by a police officer, Mr. Osodi, his wife and my driver, Baba Ngozi, to St. Nicholas Hospital. It was a case of ruptured appendix. The doctors said I had to undergo surgery within 24 hours. They sent the relevant papers to Obasanjo for his signature as my next of kin but he refused to sign. I later signed the papers myself.

Again, it was M. D. Yusuf who paid the hospital bill.


Obasanjo in Dodan Barracks

When Muhammed was assassinated and my husband was appointed the Head of State, he sustained the tempo of the moral reforms. He changed the former national anthem that was written by an English woman to the nationalistic one, written by Nigerians. He introduced the National Pledge, which we recite now. Obasanjo scaled down ostentation by introducing the “low profile” policy, which preached and demonstrated prudence in national life. He rode in Peugeot cars assembled in Nigeria and compelled government agencies to patronise Peugeot and other assembly plants such as Volkswagen, Steyr and Mercedes trucks.

He introduced “Operation Feed the Nation” to stimulate interest in farming and created farm development zones to boost agricultural development. He banned the importation of rice and dairy produce to encourage self reliance. His transition to civil rule programme was thorough. He successfully conducted the first zero-party elections to choose councillors in 1976. He made sure the playing ground was level for all in the 1979 elections.

Obasanjo drank from the fountain of knowledge of the leading politicians of his age. He admired the erudition of Zik, the vision of Awo and the selflessness of Aminu Kano. As he said in one of his interviews, the best man does not always win elections. Those who blame him for the collapse of the Second Republic on account of the successor are really unfair to him. He only had one vote.

Obasanjo bathed in the sunshine of that excellent job of voluntarily relinquishing power and conducting a successful election. His global profile exploded positively. I contributed my own quota in an unobtrusive manner.



I made a scene at Dodan Barracks

Behind the façade of continental achievements, a lot was happening behind the scene. On that February 13, 1976 when Muhammed was assassinated, I headed to Corona School, Victoria Island to get the children. I moved them and their cousins, Sister Adunni’s children, from Obasanjo’s house to my place. Obasanjo later came from hiding to see the children.

After succeeding Muhammed, Obasanjo moved to Dodan Barracks. Shortly after, the sister also moved her children there. Obasanjo then asked for his children to reunite with him. I did not want my children living in the barracks away from my supervision as I didn’t think Obasanjo would have sufficient time to pay close attention to them. Not persuaded by my argument, one day in 1976 he sent a lorry load of soldiers to come for the children.

His orderly, Emmanuel Osawe, led them. I did not give in easily as I was fearful for the future. So I resisted the troops he sent. In anger, I bit Osawe, kicking and cursing him that since the children were not his, why was he the one coming for my children. In the end, naked power triumphed. Obasanjo had his way; my children were taken away and I was left alone.


I later reported to Army Chief, Lt. Gen TY Danjuma who told me that OBJ was not his friend, but said it was wrong for Osawe to have carried out such an illegal assignment.

“Emmanuel has no right to take soldiers out for such an assignment,” he thundered, pleading with me to go home and maintain my cool.

Having succeeded in taking the children from me, Obasanjo thought he could keep me away from them. He was mistaken. Often, I would go to Dodan Barracks’ gate to make a scene. When I found out that the children were housed in a bungalow at Dodan, which served as a guest quarters to the main house, I became convinced that my initial fears that they would not receive enough supervision were not unfounded. I was not comfortable with their feeding either.

To prevent further embarrassment, he moved the children to Capital School, Kaduna. One day, I contacted the Irish principal of the school, to complain that Gbenga was too young to be a student of the school, but Obasanjo insisted and Gbenga was admitted. He arranged for Mrs. Egungboun (his friend’s wife) to be their guardian in Kaduna, promising that I would have access to them. But what he said was not what he practised. Repeatedly, he tried to shut me out.

One day when I visited the school, Gbenga wanted to return to Lagos with me. I later arranged for a teacher to coach the children in Mathematics, determined that they should conquer the fear of figures I had as a child. Later, Mrs. Egungboun tried to alter the arrangement, but I warned her. Mrs. Ade-John was the matron of the school and she was quite friendly. I urged her to take a special interest in my children. One day, she innocently mentioned that a relative of Obasanjo had visited the children in school. I found out that she was Mrs. Lamide Adegbenro.

I had always suspected her of some dalliance with Obasanjo. I flared up and Mrs. Ade-John was surprised. She had never seen that side of me. I later contacted Pa Hassan Odukale of Leadway Assurance to ask him to warn Lamide to stay away from my children. The old man didn’t quite understand what I was saying. I also contacted Remi Adegbenro and told her to warn Lamide to steer clear of my children. To date, Lamide remains defiantly close to Obasanjo.

During mid-term, I phoned the headmaster to let him know I would be coming for the children. Obasanjo had also made plans for the ADC Police to come for the children. The ADC informed the headmaster he was coming for the children. The headmaster informed him of my previous plan. But the ADC, Agwam, was adamant.

It was only when I arrived at the school that I understood what was happening. I had seen the ADC and Bose Ladipo, Obasanjo’s niece, at the Lagos Airport but did not know we were headed to the same destination. The duo arrived at the school before me and had already taken my children in a car, ready to leave for Lagos. I asked my children to come down. Gladly, they did.

The ADC protested, arguing that he was acting on the orders of the Commander-in-Chief. I replied I was acting on my own orders as their mother. There was a shouting match and the Irish headmaster intervened to say the ADC should defer to me. State head of the National Security Organisation, a huge man, met us there and said I could not go with the children.

I told him the only way he could stop me was to shoot me. As the ADC was trying to contact Lagos frantically to determine his next line of action, I shepherded my children into a car and zoomed off to Hamdala Hotel, Kaduna. We swapped stories on our experiences till late at night.


Tomorrow,
‘Obasanjo kept his distance; so much that he was surprised to see how grown his children had been when he attended the wedding of one of the Sodeinde sisters, Sade, who had lived with us’

‘Bitter-Sweet: My Life with Obasanjo’ is published by Diamond Publications Ltd. Launch date: Tuesday November 11, 2008 at NIIA,Victoria Island, Lagos.

Notice She still refers to herself as OLUREMI OBASANJO?

why now?
Publicity stunt kawai,
I wudn't waste my time and make her richer by buying and reading her book.
I already know who OBJ is,the 8yrs he spent was enough to say all about him.

Exactly. What's so important about OBJ that we need to know? At least in those 8years, we have got to known more personal traits of him than his public policies. We know he's a looter, a phony, a liar, an adulterer, a paedophile (I'm not sure if that explains it as he slept with his son's wife - not sure which word expliains better), a fake, a murderer, an asshole, wish I could continue but I love my job.

I'll get back to work as OBJ is not worth it.

B.O.S.S.:

Exactly. What's so important about OBJ that we need to know? At least in those 8years, we have got to known more personal traits of him than his public policies. We know he's a looter, a phony, a liar, an adulterer, a paedophile (I'm not sure if that explains it as he slept with his son's wife - not sure which word expliains better), a fake, a murderer, an asshole, wish I could continue but I love my job.

I'll get back to work as OBJ is not worth it.

lmao

sure we don't need this now,we needed it in 1998.

hmmmmmmmm............