Sly Ojigbede is one friend I never met. He came so close to my circle of comfort but never really came in. I was first very close to his sister or was it cousin in secondary school, Hilda. Hilda Ojigbede was everybody's mother. She was school mother to all of us. The fact that we were age mates did not stop her from smothering us with motherly love and this stuck with me all my growing years.So when I started working some twenty years later anytime I hear or see someone with the name Ojigbede, I stopped and told the person Hilda's story. That is exactly what happened with Ivy. Ivy was a jovial young girl who happened to start work at Investment One Financial Services Limited. She resumed work and immediately affected the drab and pretense filled environment with so much life. She was in customer service and shocked the system with her short skirt and zest to life. I immediately connected, because I was desperately looking for a mate who would join me in gently rebelling against the dour and gray culture which you all had to adhere to whether you liked it or not.

Ivy was however too junior to join me in my rebellion as she was quickly smothered and converted to the humming like existence that was the permitted culture of the forgotten place of work. Gone were the short skirts, gone where the piercing the short spiky and sometime colorful hair and alive came the muted Ivy. However, the beautiful nice and warm person still remained but I still went to connect with her, for she chose to connect with me albeit secretly in the way only bohemians like us could.

It was one of such encounters that she mentioned her surname and I immediately started my Hilda story. She screamed. I know her, she is my in law and I screamed, aaahhhhhhhh and she immediately placed a call to my school mother and a then 40 year old with tears in my eyes spoke to Hilda the first time in 25 years.

It was later she told me what her hubby did for a living, that he was a Radio On air personality, Sly. She was surprised I had not listened to him or knew him. He offered to give us mixed tapes in the office when surprisingly the High Priest agreed that I could play some music at the Customercare. I hear he came to the office quite often to hook up with Ivy his wife and lover. But I never got to meet him, I was too busy fighting my demons and struggling to survive in an environment I obviously did not belong.

His death touched me through Ivy. I saw her last pregnancy and also saw the way she adored him and how her eyes brightened up when she spoke of him or sensed his aura around her. I was shocked to hear of his death and filled with regret that I never got to meet him.

Ivy and the kids will be ok. They usually are, but I sense filling this gap especially for the kids would be Herculean. Friends and family would envelope them like a big bird spreading its wings ever so slowly to protect them and giving them the warmth and soft hue that will fill them with the strength to live through this tragic sequence.

God bless you Ivy and your kids and may you rest in peace my school mothers child.

http://josephedgarng..com/2015/05/tribute-to-classic-fm-oap-sylvester-sly.html

RIP!

SLY i still cant believe you are dead...rest in peace..chai..