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Universal folklore tends to cast their type in dim tabloid lights. Hence, the pejorative “old wives’ tale”. Just to perhaps insinuate the proclivity of old womenfolk for a whole lot of apocryphal legends, passed down by ancestors, some of which appear to be calculated to pacify cranky kids and are, in turn, expected to be transmitted to the next generation in, well, the service and nourishing of superstition.
But from Chief (Mrs.) Jadesola Ibidapo we learnt an entirely different ethic: the evangelism of “iwa” (Yoruba for virtue) and “suru” (Job-like patience). There is no stone, she would often philosophize, that patience cannot cook into an edible.
According to the one we all came to fondly address as “Grandma”, trouble increasingly afflicts marriages today and the community is broken only because of the deficit of patience.
Alas, like all mortals, Mama joined her ancestors on September 13, at age 90. In the days ahead, family and the vast community of those impacted by her moral example would undoubtedly assemble to celebrate this exemplary nonagenarian.
With the force of character and the exemplification of hospitality and compassion for others, Mama Ibidapo could be said to have succeeded in investing the honorific “grandma” with greater substance in a way that drew effusive testimonies not only from those with whom she shared biological consanguinity, but also with everyone in her community.
This writer counts himself among those Mama impacted positively. Before she became too enfeebled by age, Mama, alongside her late spouse, no doubt constituted a formidable moral force in the entire Fasoro, Surulere community in Lagos. Not a few came for wise counsel or mediation during communal conflicts. Not to mention her compulsive charity to the needy and immeasurable giving to Christian causes.
To assuage the tantrum of a vexing young bride who came for either counsel or counselling, for instance, she would recall, from a photographic memory, countless irritations and transgressions she either overlooked or forgave in order to build her own home or keep her marriage for close to 70 years. After which she would revert to her signature countenance: that knowing chuckle. As if to say, “There is nothing new under the sun!”
Watching her being constantly doted upon by loving children and grandchildren, it would be no exaggeration to conclude that indeed she savoured, one morsel after another sumptuous morsel, that proverbial bounteous fruit said to get ripened only by the earlier toils of diligent parenting. So much so that, at her 88th birthday at the outset of COVID in 2020, she told an interviewer: “I’m now awaiting death”.
It is impossible to map Mama Ibidapo’s enchanting universe without reference to half of its two hemispheres — her lifelong partner and confidant, Pa Meshack Ibidapo, who had predeceased her in 2018. The one she romantically called “Emi mi” (my heart). Theirs was indeed an extraordinary story of love at first sight. Born into the popular Onigbanjo family of the Olowoogbowo area of Lagos Island, she was by implication a member of the old Eko aristocracy. She was just 17 when they met, he was four years older.
But the journey to matrimony two years later would tax the forbearance of the young lovers. Their union was tested by adversity soon afterwards as the young husband lost his job following the arrival of two kids, such that the wife had to resume her petty business to augment their income. That setback would mark a turning-point for the young dad as the desire to fend for his family sharpened his entrepreneurial instinct to become self-employed.
Relying on his training in civil engineering at Yaba College of Technology, he soon launched a construction outfit. His diligence and knack for excellence, with obsession for details, marked him out in Lagos’ burgeoning real estate market in the countdown to Nigeria’s Independence in 1960 and the intensification of the indigenisation policy. So much so that he caught the attention of the colonial authorities who recruited him to help out when the contractor engaged to build the pivotal Tafawa Balewa Square (TBS) was stalling. Panic had gripped the government as the complex was already listed as the venue of the Independence ceremonies.
Pa Ibidapo delivered and so, rolled in more big contracts like the construction of the iconic Ahmadu Bello Way and Murtala Mohammed International Airport Road. These fat jobs immediately helped him secure a pre-eminent perch in the post-Independence construction industry as well as established him in the millionaire club. For Grandma in particular, the ensuing financial freedom created more incentives to focus more on home-building. In fact, when her brood of four boys and three girls began to marry and have their own kids, she practically converted their Surulere home to a daycare centre.
Without hesitation, she chose to apportion to herself all the hard, dirty jobs. At a time, one of her grandchildren, a toddler, was diagnosed with a rare condition that required the diligent administration of Cod Oil for a minimum of nine months to heal. Whereas the parent soon began to loathe the idea of having to endure the foul-smelling portion daily, Grandma zestfully took over the task. And six months later, the kid was completely cured of the impairment.
By continuing her life of sacrifice even at old age, she afforded her adult children the latitude to pursue their individual careers. They include Prof (Mrs.) Yemi Olatunji-Bello, Vice Chancellor of Lagos State University (LASU); Mr. Kunle Ibidapo, a retired pilot; and Mr. Tayo Ibidapo, a renowned accountant.
Attested Mr. Tunji Bello, one of her sons-in-law: “If our children turned out well-behaved with impeccable character, the credits surely go to Grandma for all her labour of love,” and, with a tinge of emotion, he added: “Once you married any of her children, you had become her own child to the extent of sometimes favouring in-laws over her own biological children.”
On a personal note, being a fellow Arian, she took a special liking to this writer. Beginning as their tenant – first at a mini flat at Olateju (near Vono) and then a bigger apartment within their Surulere redoubt; later growing into the status of an adopted son. Overall, it was a measure of Grandma’s very accommodating spirit that, for all the five years I lived with them, not once did she have cause to quarrel with or ever frown at me.
Adieu, the ultimate headmistress of the Lagos “Grandma” school.
Louis Odion FNGE is the Senior Technical Assistant on Media to the President.
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