My Dear Brother, Dele Momodu

 

By Segun Adeyemi

Permit me to go straight to the heart of this message.

I can no longer pretend that I have not been following the deeply troubling and increasingly vile exchanges involving you and others in recent times.

What has now become a public brawl is unfolding on social media, an arena without boundaries, without gatekeepers and, it would seem, without red lines.

Social media is a most unforgiving theatre. Whatever is said there acquires a troubling permanence.

Long after we are gone, generations yet unborn need only type a name, and every word, spoken or hurled, rises again, fresh and unrelenting.

Should that not give us pause?

Should it not compel restraint in what we say, and even in what we choose to dignify with a response?

Of all those caught in this fray, you are the one I know, and have known for a very long time.

Our friendship dates back to 1977, a year before we gained admission into UNIFE. We worked together then as clerical officers in the University Library under Mr. Dipeolu (I hope I got that right. If I didn’t, I can be forgiven. It’s almost half a century ago).

That was long before fame found you. You were grounded, witty, perceptive and street-smart, yet deeply studious.

Innovative. Brilliant. We competed, not in vanity, but in intellect, over the books we had read, the ideas we had encountered.

And we read, voraciously. How could we not, with the rare privilege of unfettered access to a university’s intellectual treasury?

We also had fun, maximum fun. We drank palm wine. We drank beer. We partied. We chased babes.

I remember accompanying you, many times, to visit your dear mother, of blessed memory, at her shop near the palace. She feted us each time. Ever so kind. Ever so motherly.

I recall meeting your brother, Dr. Ajayi, newly returned then, whose sports car was the talk of the town.

I reach back into these memories not out of nostalgia alone, but to establish my bona fides to write you this note, to remind you that I knew you before the noise, before the crowd and before the many voices that now speak at you and about you.

You have always earned your place through hard work, discipline and intellect. Many don’t know this, sadly. They only see the fun-loving Publisher of a popular society magazine.

I am not concerned here with who is right or wrong, nor with what ignited this present _Ija’gboro_, this no-holds-barred street fight where everything becomes a weapon, including shared history and past goodwill.

For the sake of all you hold dear; for the memory of your mother, whose dignity and values you carry; and for the sake of God, I urge you: find an off-ramp from this vicious freeway. Step away from this corrosive spiral now.

You are not the sum of the insults hurled at you. You are not the distortion others attempt to project.

No.

You will recall that in those Ife days, you held British Philosopher Bertrand Russell in high regard. Russell once observed:

_”The whole problem with the world is that fools and fanatics are always so certain of themselves, and wiser people so full of doubts.”_

Wisdom, my brother, often lies in restraint, in knowing when to disengage from the theatre of noise.

And perhaps you also read the works of another Philosopher, German Friedrich Nietzsche, whose haunting warning feels especially apt at a time like this:

_”He who fights with monsters should be careful lest he thereby become a monster. And if you gaze long into an abyss, the abyss also gazes into you.”_

There is yet another truth, often echoed across ages: when one descends into the arena with a beast, the spectators, in time, cease to know the difference. I didn’t say this to insult your opponents in this shameful arena. They are not my concern here.

I say this with all the affection and sincerity of a brother: rise above this moment. Withdraw your dignity from the marketplace of insults. Let silence, where necessary, speak louder than rebuttal.

May God guide your thoughts, guard your words and steady your steps at this time.

Yours ever so sincerely,

Segun ADEYEMI is a veteran journalist