Lanre Arogundade, trade union, pro-democracy, human rights activist and media development specialist is the executive director of International Press Centre (IPC). He told the story of his life to TUNDE ADELEKE.
What inspired you to become a social justice fighter?
I would say the inspiration came from two sources: one, it was a product of some of the experiences that I had as a young person that made me detest injustice in whatever way it manifests itself. I recall that in my first year in secondary school, I always emphasised this first year because I repeated Form I. In that very first year, there was a senior that I was serving which was the tradition then; a junior student was attached to a senior that he or she would serve. The person that I served was a very wicked person; he was a brute. Anytime I arrived at school with all my provisions, he would ask me to open my box and pick all that he wanted – milk, sugar and foodstuffs like garri and all of that. And then, he would generally bully you, beat you up, shout at you and so on.
I recall he liked some particular kind of food – eko. On the days that eko was on the menu at the dining hall, it was compulsory for me to help him gather as many wraps as possible. He never once asked about my well-being despite the fact that I used to be sickly. I looked at my other classmates and the seniors they were serving, the experience seemed slightly different. Some of them were humane, took the juniors serving them as their brothers or sons; they were not forcefully taking their food, their provisions. So, I looked at that and felt it should be the model of relationship between juniors and seniors and from that experience, I told myself that whenever I became a senior student, I would behave like those other seniors and not behave like this man and where possible, I would rise against injustice.
And the second?
The other one was also related. This was the most painful experience I had in that first year. It had to do with some of my classmates who were bullies. There was a day someone alleged that his wristwatch was stolen. We used to have prep in those days. In the evening you had to go to the class compulsorily to read; there was also afternoon prep. That day, I was coming to class, they had just built a technical block in the school and some of the equipment they wanted to put in the building was spread around the premises. So, that day, I was just coming to the class, I didn’t even know that somebody had said his wristwatch was missing. As I was coming in, after taking a few steps up, I saw a wristwatch under one of the equipment, something like a small container, I just picked it up. When I entered the classroom, I asked who the owner of the wristwatch was. And the next thing some of them said was that ‘Yes, you’re the one that stole it.’ All efforts to convince my classmates fell on deaf ears. This matter went up to our seniors and I remember that I was mercilessly beaten by the then senior prefect. The essence of the punishment was that you’re already guilty and you must just confess your sin. The beating was so much that I didn’t know when I said ‘yes, I was the one that took it’ just to escape the punishment. I am talking of real beating and torture. But people said you should have stood your ground and all that. It also made me understand that when one is under pressure, you’re threatened, one can confess to an offence not committed just to escape punishment. Of course, that showed me I needed to strengthen myself. I said to myself ‘this is an injustice perpetrated by your classmates, some of whom are bullies.’ It was an experience that fired the inspiration that as I grew up or advanced in that school, I would be doing things that advance the cause of justice.
Was there any inspiration before the secondary school experiences?
I think another inspiration also came from general childhood experiences one way or the other. I have always been an activist, even from my primary school days. I was very active in the school’s dramatic group. I was also involved in the school band, entertaining other students. I liked acting a lot. In those days, it was called entertainment. Anytime they had end-of-year drama or entertainment and I was not chosen to perform, I would be angry; I would fight and I felt it was a kind of inspiration.
Then, back to our secondary school, I remember the kind of literature we were exposed to. Some of them made us think in terms of fighting for justice in society. I did mention this in my students’ unionism memoir, by the time we got to Form IV and V, we had read books like Zambia Shall be Free by Kenneth Kaunda, Tell Freedom by Peter Abraham and Mine Boy. All that literature’s sort of changed our worldview, that if we say we were enjoying ourselves, things were not rosy for some other people. From Tell Freedom, we got to know there was a place in this world where black and white did not mingle, where as a black, you could not even go to school. Only the white could go to school because they were privileged. We were told that the system in South Africa was called apartheid. This provoked hatred of injustice in our young minds. So, for me, these are what I could call sources of inspiration when we talk of public activism. In any case, before I left secondary school, I was social prefect and unlike those bullying seniors, I tried to relate well and today, my circle of friends goes beyond my classmates and includes my juniors. So, we were able to bring a new orientation that things could be done without necessarily inflicting injuries on your fellow students, particularly the junior ones.
Perhaps I should also add the inspiration from my dad as a principled person who rejected injustice in all its ramifications. My dad spoke his mind no matter whose ox was gored and once he was convinced that his fight was just, nobody could change his mind. He would fight to the last.
How was your experience growing up?
Well, it was quite exciting because it was full of memorable events. Those were the days of street restlessness or if you like, activism of the streets whenever you were not in the classroom or in the church. You had a situation where we engaged in all kinds of moonlight plays or exercises. But I felt that it also helped in the mental development of our generation, talking about growing up on the streets of Osi-Ekiti, doing hide-and-seek, all kinds of games that tested, not only your strength, but intelligence. I recall the one that involved holding a tiny stone and shaking everyone’s hand so that you would pass on the stone to somebody unnoticed. It would now be the duty of the person selected for the purpose to guess who had the stone as everybody was meant to be tight fisted irrespective of who had the stone. That person would sometimes look at the body language to guess correctly and some of my childhood friends were experts at detecting the holder of the stone. That game was called mude-mude. We played street football as well up to and including inter-street football competition.
Then, my father was a produce buyer, a cocoa merchant; he was known as ‘Akin Onikoko’ not only in Osi-Ekiti, but in neighbouring towns like Iropora, Awo, Epe, Ara, Igbole, Ido, Ifishin, among others. He used to travel to those towns for produce collections in the Lorries of Lawrence Omole and Sons, the Ilesa-based bigger cocoa merchant to which my father, Thomas Akinyemi Arogundade, was attached as an agent. My father didn’t like it, but aided and abetted by the drivers and loaders, I would often find a way of jumping into the lorries for the village runs. All the collections would be brought to our big shop for proper bagging and grading for movement to Ilesa and from there to the Lagos seaport. The travels also exposed me to people and activities in those other places early in life.
Which of these holds the fondest memory for you?
The masquerade festivals stood out. I loved the kind of masqueraders that I saw in those other places. My grandfather, Daniel Ogunlana, was based in Awo-Ekiti. In fact, he was a contemporary of the founder of CAC Church, Ayo Babalola, more or less the first generation of that church and he built the first CAC Church in Awo-Ekiti. Anytime I followed my dad to purchase cocoa in that town and I noticed the masquerade festival was on, I would find an excuse to return. I would say I would like to spend the holiday with my grandfather, just because I wanted to feature in those activities.
I recall telling my grandfather’s secretary to take me to the masquerades’ shrine not far from our house so that I could become one. He said I needed to bring money. How much was the money then? Six pence. I went to my grandmother and convinced her and she gave me the money. I went to the man and said ‘come and take me to the bush’. Then he laughed and said ‘you want me to lose my job? Don’t you know your grandfather is a Christian? He will sack me if he finds out.’ In spite of that, I would still run round the streets after the masqueraders. And in the night, the masquerader would be running after me in my dream. I would cry out and the old man would say you must have been following those masqueraders and would flog me. So, that’s the kind of exciting experience that we had. It extended to going to the farm and having a good educational foundation.
What about schooling?
I went to St. Paul’s Anglican Primary School, Osi-Ekiti. We had fantastic teachers, some of them disciplinarians. If you messed up, they flogged you. In fact, one of them, the one we called Boogie-Ranking, would say if he flogged you and you reported to your mother, he would also flog your mother and if you also brought your father, he would flog him – all this to our murmurs of anger and disapproval.
When it came to the time to go to secondary school, the idea was that you took entrance examinations in different schools and then, you decided the one you preferred. I remember I was offered admission into African Church Grammar School, Ilesa, but my dad said I could not go there because my brother was already there and we would not face our studies, but would be playing football. I also got admission into Ijebu-Jesa Grammar School and Ekiti Parapo College. Invariably, I chose Ekiti Parapo College because a person like the late Professor Olu Ogboja came to our house and said it was EKPACO I should attend because that was his school and it was the best. I went there and I saw a good school.
As I often say, Ekiti Parapo College was like our first university. That was a secondary school that had everything, including well-equipped biology, chemistry and physics laboratories. We didn’t lack anything. We were there right in the bush, so to say, but I can’t remember anytime we were to write WAEC exams and we would have to go and borrow equipment for experiments from other secondary schools. In the physics lab then, we had many gas cylinders, sometimes we would play with them. There was one we called laughing gas, we would say we want to laugh, let’s release laughing gas to make us laugh.
What about your tertiary education?
Before I got admitted to the University of Ife (now Obafemi Awolowo University), I was at the Federal School of Arts and Science, Ondo (FSASON). I was there for the Advanced Level programme, but I didn’t spend the entire two years there. I just did one year; I sat for JME and passed. I wanted to study Economics, but I didn’t meet the cut-off mark, by three points or so. In fact, I had started writing my A’ Level exams when my uncle, now retired Bishop Kehinde Olowokure, who was an archdeacon at the All Saints Anglican Church, Ogbonkowo, Ondo, at the time kept saying ‘you don’t need to wait, you’re an old person, go and take a course.’ That was how I stopped writing the exams and took up the offer of admission to study Psychology at Ife. FSASON was also another experience in terms of the facilities that we had because it was like a buffer then when you could not go directly to the university. At the school then, we had all sorts of clubs, one of which was the press club. Groups or individuals would come together and give themselves a name and they would write stories. The stories then were handwritten on sheets of paper that were pasted on the notice boards. My own press organisation then was called Ken-Picolo Organisation because there were three of us – Kenlast, Picolo and myself. So, the press club was the most popular and most prominent club at FSASON then. We used to contest elections. I ran for the position of secretary against one of our classmates, Jendu, a very popular socialite. Of course, I lost the election, but that was the first time I stepped forward to address a large audience to talk about what I could do as secretary of the organisation. I lost, but it was a good experience.
It was from Ondo that I moved to the University of Ife in 1980 to study Psychology. Some of my mates in Ondo were admitted the same year. Some of us found ourselves living in the same room because not everybody was able to get a bed space then. On getting to Ife, there were mates like Tope Ibitoye and others who would later be instrumental to my success when it came to campaigning for offices. But the thing was that in our first year at Ife, it was like we were awe-struck by the campus. If it was raining and you were in the lecture room, you wouldn’t know it was raining because of the drainage system. We felt we were in another world entirely. You can even spend a whole day moving around, admiring the lecture theatre, Oduduwa Hall, the amphitheatre and so on. In the classrooms, we had an audiovisual system through which some of the lectures were delivered.
How did you get involved in campus activism?
No matter where you came from, the Ife campus then would change the person in you, and from that we were exposed to student unionism. In fact, shortly after we resumed, campaigns were on. Even as we were arriving on campus, they were going to stage protests in Lagos. So, I had early stages of exposure to activism under the leadership of Wole Olaoye and the rest of them. They now had campaigns for candidates, singing and beating drums. It was a beautiful experience. At Ife then, Part I students could not vote and be voted for, but you can participate, you can be cheerleaders, you can be noise makers. So, we followed the candidates around the campus. Even from that first year, there was something to show one might be interested in students’ unionism.
And it didn’t take long because by my second year, I had made up my mind that I was going to contest for a position in the Students Representative Council to represent the Faculty of Social Sciences. In those days, we were allocated 35 seats and I was able to clinch one of the seats. And based on my performance in the SRC, in the third year, I ran for the secretary-general of the Students Union. By that time, I had become an ideologue and joined the Alliance of Progressive Students (APS), a student socialist group, and it was a factor. And in my final year, again based on my performance, the presidency of the National Association of Nigerian Students (NAN) was coming to Zone D, our zone. Again we had comrades and friends who felt I was the best to run for that position. We ran around for that and I became NANS president.
And campus journalism?
My exposure to journalism in Ife campus was another dynamism we witnessed. The fact that as you’re waking up in your room, someone is knocking on your door, student vendors selling journals – we had Echo, Bang, Petals and others like Cobra which was the chief gossip magazine. They go after lecturers who were chasing girls and others. As of the time we were there, Dapo Thomas was one of the popular editors of Cobra, there was also Niyi Ogun. On one or two occasions, I was one of those Cobra dealt with in their report. Cobra was right wing and they were always interested in APS members. That was a phenomenon at Ife campus to the extent that there was and still there is the Association of Campus Journalists (ACJ). I think for some time, I was president of that association. Some of those who have become lawyers, who are doing well today, were campus journalists. So, journalism itself was an alternate students union, if I can put it that way, at the University of Ife. You had the students union, but you also had the campus press that was playing the oversight role, that was taking the authorities to task, that was raising questions, writing editorials that were probing. A lot of people would talk about Great Ife, talk about Aluta and so on, but I feel enough documentation or enough study has not been done on the phenomenon of journalism at Ife campus. Here is a university that doesn’t have a Mass Communication faculty, that does not have any course in journalism, yet had a thriving press. So, when you look at the media in Nigeria today, you cannot dismiss the Ife factor. I can reel out the products of Ife campus journalism who came into the larger society and made their mark as journalists – very long list. I can talk about the likes of Wole Olaoye, Dapo Olorunyomi, Owei Lakemfa, Gbolahan Gbadamosi, Jika Ator, Kunle Ajibade, Femi Ojudu, Uzor Maxim Uzoatu, Edmond Enaibe, Dele Momodu, Seye Kehinde, Kehinde Bamigbetan and former editor in chief of the Punch, Bola Bolawole. And talking about Punch, one can mention the likes of Bolaji Adebiyi and Tunde Aremu. Outside Punch, I can mention Tony Iyare, Edetaen Ojo, Tive Denedo, myself and others.
Can you briefly take us through your career history?
Ife prepared me for journalism, even though, I read Psychology. There were a number of options, but I just felt it was the media that could provide the kind of space that I needed. And it was not just because of the Ife activism alone, I also fell in love with the media while going round media houses, distributing press releases as NANS president. On one occasion I was at the Punch newspaper and that day, they were having their chapel election, Tunji Ladner (Jnr), Niran Malaolu, Mr Demola Osinubi, Uncle Eric Teniola were all there; so many of them. I really liked the atmosphere and it’s like ‘oh, I would like to work in this kind of place’; the likes of Nojeem Jimoh, Feyi Smith, Tokunbo Oloruntola, had all interviewed me as NANS president. Femi Falana (SAN) would also take me round media houses as NANS president so I liked the environment. Though, when I first graduated, I worked briefly at the law chambers of Aka-Bashorun as a solicitor’s clerk, he was trying to get me to work in the textile industry. He felt since I had a degree in Psychology, I could work in their industrial relations department. But somehow, it didn’t work out. Then, the Republic Newspapers was established and I went there and I was recruited. Before then, I had tried to join the National Concord, but I was not successful. So, the Republic was the beginning of my journalism and union career as a journalist. I was chapel chairman. And when as a result of union activities we went on strike over non-payment of salaries, I was sacked. For me not to sit at home idle, Ladi Lawal, who was chairman of Lagos council of NUJ encouraged me to join the secretariat and work as the organising secretary and editor of Lighthouse News, the then news organ of Lagos NUJ.
How well did that go?
That didn’t last long. But then, at the Republic, we had some of the best hands in the industry and that newspaper would really have made it if the publisher had been a little patient. He came from the banking sector, he was expecting quick return. The Republic had good hands, Paxton Olu Idowu was our editor, and we had Kunle Oduduwa in the newsroom as news editor who came from Daily Times background and the like of Tokunbo Oloruntola as head of the newsroom. So, I was at the Lagos NUJ and after a short period of time, I really felt like moving back to mainstream journalism and fortunately, National Concord had a place for me. I joined National Concord as chief correspondent, working with the likes of Niyi Obaremi, Akin Ogunrinde, Kunmi Olayiwola, late Soni Ehi Asuelimen, Kola Ojelabi, Ayo Aluko-Olokun and many others including Goke Olayinka and Waheed Odusile. When I became the features editor, I worked with the likes of Tunde Akanni, Sam Nwanze, Jide Orintunsin and others. National Concord was a better environment compared to the Republic; well established, well funded, facilities were available to do your work – recording gadgets were available when you want to conduct interviews and we had an editor who was highly competent and very professional, Nsikak Essien. We had a robust political desk manned by the likes of Tunji Bello, Victor Ifijeh, Sam Omatseye and upcoming fantastic writers like Louis Odion. National Concord was another arena entirely and for me we really practiced good journalism. Concord had its own house style, for example, a paragraph then was not supposed to be more than 32 words. So, it was a training ground. But as you know, we ran into political storms when Chief MKO Abiola ran for the presidency and Concord was made to pay the price by the military junta. We were not rabidly in support of MKO and we were not running down the other political party. Concord was simply professional and it reflected in the fact that the daily newspaper was doing well. The weekend paper was something else, when it was edited by Mike Awoyinfa, selling over 500,000 copies per day. The Sunday Concord was also doing well coming from the tradition already established by the likes of Dele Giwa. For me, the attack on Concord and the forceful closure was one of the greatest setbacks to journalism in Nigeria, because Abiola really had the vision of a newspaper modelled after the best newspapers in the world and I believe Concord was on its way to being that. It rivalled well established newspapers of the time.
After Concord shutdown, what next?
I again moved in the direction of activism by going to Gani Fawehinmi Chambers to work on the stable of The Masses. Gani Fawehinmi had in 1994 formed the National Conscience Party in defiance of the ban on political parties by the military government for which he was jailed. The editor of the Masses was Richard Akinnola and I was the deputy editor. I worked in Gani’s chambers for some time, and around the same time too, I was editing Democracy Echo, a journal of the Committee for the Defence of Human Rights (CDHR) of which I was a foundational member. Despite these, I still felt the need to go back to mainstream journalism because around the time, a group of journalists who came from the same tradition with me felt that we needed to be more involved in the NUJ as we were part of the New Trend Movement. We had been active in the campaign that made Ladi Lawal president of NUJ. Before Ladi Lawal, there was Sani Zoro in 1992 because the movement had been formed by that time. Before New Trend, there was another group by erstwhile campus journalists and activists called Progressive Journalists Association in the media, we used to meet at the secretariat of the Nigeria Labour Congress – Kayode Komolafe, Tunji Lawal, Owei Lakemfa were prominent in that. Towards the end of Ladi Lawal’s tenure, some of them were suggesting that well, we see you as someone who could become the chairman of NUJ, but the Masses was not in mainstream journalism and I had to return to mainstream journalism and Vanguard was waiting to take me. So, I became assistant editor and member of the editorial board of the Vanguard Newspapers.
For me, one of the best contributions to journalism has been made by Uncle Sam, just by making the point that you don’t have to breathe down the neck of editors and reporters before they can turn out good copies. And the editorial board I worked with one of the best under the chairmanship of late Alhaji Kola Animashaun. He also taught us the value of diversity.
Anytime they were having Islamic festival, Alhaji Animashaun, would ask me to write the editorial. When he first challenged me to do so and I asked him how I would go about the editorial, he said I should read more about Islam. So, anytime we had Islamic festivals, I would be the one to write the editorials. Then, during Christmas or Easter, either himself or another Moslem on the editorial board, Alhaji Femi Abbas, would write the editorial. That was the way we worked at Vanguard. It was from Vanguard in 1995, with the support of the management and staff, that I ran for the chairmanship of Lagos State NUJ, won and served from 1995 to 1999.
How did you meet your wife?
That was the National Concord factor. My wife’s dad, late Chief Segun Ogunsanwo, was also in the media; he was a journalist and he worked on the sub-desk. He was chief sub-editor of National Concord. By the time I was joining Concord, he was on his way out to establish an advertising company – SAO Oguns. The children, including my wife and the brothers used to come to Concord to place adverts on his behalf. She was also trying to work on her admission and a friend in the features department was trying to help out. So, anytime she came around to drop advert, she would check the features department to see that my friend, who is an Ijesha brother. It was in that process I set my eyes on her. And there is an Italian saying that when you see a woman and you like her, and you want to fall in love with her, you will say you are struck by the thunderbolt. So, that was what happened and that’s where the relationship started around 1992 or thereabout. But it was only in 1996 that it ended in marriage. That was how I met my wife Ogunsola (nee Ogunsanwo).
You must be involved in pranks as a youth.
Well, there is no way you won’t be involved in one prank or the other. Okay I remember one time when I was in the primary school. I had a friend whose father was an herbalist or oracle diviner. His name is Dele – very funny character. One day, he told me that we should not go to school; that we should go and swim. There was a big stream called ‘Omi Isun’ in the town. That morning, I was supposed to go to school, I just gave an excuse to my dad and said I wasn’t feeling fine. I stayed back. So, Dele, myself and a female classmate went to the stream while others were in school. We were enjoying the swimming, not knowing that an elderly man who was returning from the farm had seen us. He was shocked that two boys and a girl were swimming when they were supposed to be in the school. The first thing he did was to go grab our clothes and he cleverly hid them. He then made some noise to call attention to himself. We ran out of the stream. The instinct was to go for our clothes and run, but he laughed as he asked which clothes we were looking for. We were downcast! Then, he gave us our clothes, but said we should be marching ahead of him, which enabled the villagers to tongue-lash us. My Dad was shocked and flogged me. My teacher took his turn the following day at school to punish me.
In the secondary school, I had a friend who liked playing pranks, his name is Taye Akerele. We just thought of ways to embarrass our seniors, particularly those that we believe were wicked or not that exposed. I recall that we went to one of them and told him that a lady in our class had fallen in love with him, and that he should write to her. The senior had a very good handwriting; so, he wrote a fantastic love letter. Immediately he gave it to us, we ran to the stream to open the letter and we saw all those big expressions like ‘you are the golden key to my brain’ and so on. We didn’t actually deliver the letter to the girl, but we gave him the impression that we had delivered it. However, the tradition then was that if you wrote somebody, the person would have to reply. But in this instance, there was no reply. The guy, perhaps, got worried that the lady might report him to the authorities; his major fear was for the letter not to fall into the hands of the teachers because it could earn him a dismissal. We started playing games. We told him the lady would be in class during prep and that he should come. He would come and ask where is the lady and we would say the lady had gone and all that. So, the guy suspected that something was wrong and said ‘okay, return my letter.’ We now went to my own senior that I was serving, a more humane person, and told him that we had been deceiving a senior. Then, he screamed that we have destroyed his friend. He was more shocked than annoyed and asked the offence he committed that made us to do what we did.
We played another one on another senior, a very reserved person. He was our next victim. We went to him and said a lady in our class had fallen in love with him and since Valentine was coming, he should buy some things. The man was shocked, but he bought the stuff and gave it to us. But this time, we delivered to the girl. And she was surprised. We told the girl you have to buy your own, to reciprocate. She bought it and of course, we had our own share of the largesse.
How do you unwind?
In terms of my hobbies, I like sports; I watch football and I go dancing. In those days I was fairly regular at Fela’s shrine. When Lagbaja had Motherlan, because my wife likes Lagbaja, we were regulars at the Friday shows. Sometimes in the office when I want to unwind, I take to the floor and dance. I also unwind by watching movies; I watch all kind of things. People would say why, but for me, no knowledge is lost. We keep learning one thing or the other. In any case, life continues. So, I am not rigid. Yes, I have my traditional areas of interest like radical and socialist literatures, but I read other things, only that I have become a slow reader now. There was a time I would read up to six books in a year. But now, I struggle to finish two.
I also like reading biographies. I have enjoyed a number of biographies, that of Nelson Mandela, Bill Clinton and Oba Sikiru Adetona, the Awujale of Ijebuland. I listen to all kinds of music, Ashake or whatever. The lyrics may not make as much sense, but they keep you on your toes.
Sometimes I sit with friends, chat, and have some drinks. It keeps life going because whether you unwind or not, life itself keeps going. Nobody is going to have a second chance at life, just the fun you give yourself. And when possible, I hang around with people, relate and joke with them.
One of my major hobbies is reading about, studying and owing Aviation technologies. There was a time I could look into the sky, see a plane and correctly tell if it was a Boeing 737, 747, DC10 or the Airbus series. Ditto for planes on the tarmac.
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