REMEMBERING KAYODE FAYEMI AND TUNDE AYILARAN

I was alone, dry and somewhat forlorn last night in my bed…and thoughts of certain events of the past kept flashing through my subliminal. This morning I feel compelled to just ‘blog’ them out. come with me.
Within the first three months of year last year (2007), I lost two of the most precious individuals in my life: KAYODE FAYEMI (alias Chicago) and TUNDE VICTOR AYILARAN. Kayode Fayemi was the guy who converted me single-handed from a disillusioned part-time teacher and wannabe society photographer to a journalist. In the summer of 2003 when I joined his editorial crew at THE CELEBRITY MAGAZINE in Lagos, he gave me the first opportunity to express myself in writing through the pages of the then fledging journal and since then there has been no looking back for me on the job. And because he was one hell of a boss who won’t ever accept your second best, he was always on my neck, expectedly that kept me on my toes.
But in the sunny afternoon of January 10, 2007, the unexpected happened! Kay had been an asthmatic for years and had been managing to survive on medication and inhalers. But on that fateful day he had an ‘attack’, he wasn’t with his inhaler and before help could come he died!
As at the time of his death, he was the Executive Editor of Wole Arisekola’s Street Journal. He was also contributing to Global Excellence Magazine and PM News using various pen names. Kayode died at the age of 41 and left behind 5 all-girl children, a widow and an aged father.( Note: Dr. Kayode Fayemi who contested for Ekiti State governorship last year and Kayode ‘Chicago’ Fayemi were mere name-sakes and not related but I am sure they met at least once before Chicago ‘went home’)
Tunde Ayilaran on the other hand was my cousin. We grew up together in Idao / Ijero Ekiti,(Ekiti State,Nigeria). While growing up, we had the ambition of joining the Nigerian Defence Academy (NDA) and becoming senior military officers, we were banking on using the influence of our big uncle, Air Marshal Akin Dada then, but somehow it didn’t work out so we faced other directions in life. We later came to live together for years at Iya-Ijebu’s house at Oke-Ira, Ogba-Lagos. We separated when his girlfriend, Yemi got pregnant and moved in with us early 1998.
As it were, Tunde happened to be the closest to me out of all the members of my family (both immediate and extended). He was the only one who knew all my little secrets, he knew all my ups and down, he knew my entire struggle too. I often used him as the yardstick to measure my speed in life. He was always there to chide me frankly and express his displeasure with me over anything I left undone in my usual carefree manner. He would have been the ideal person to be my witness on the day of my ‘celebration’ because he alone knew how tough the journey had been. But then, one fateful morning in the month of March, 2007, he went to the farm and never returned on his legs.
Five years earlier,(in 2002), he had relocated from Lagos to Ekiti when he lost his job as the store clerk of Specomill Nigeria Plc in Ikeja. When he got to Ekiti, he had wanted to contest for the councillorship seat of our ward in Ijero Ekiti on the platform of the then Alliance for Democracy (AD) but it didn’t work out as anticipated. While building his political profile and waiting patiently for his time therefore, he got involved in timber business in the locality to keep body and soul together. He had a group of boys working with him and things were going on fairly well. Then one cloudy morning in the ides of March, 2007, he went to inspect his workers who were busy felling trees for him on father’s farm in Ara-Ekiti: out of the blues, one of the trees swung off trajectory on its way down hit Tunde on the head. He died instantly!
He left behind two lovely daughters, and unknown to us, his widow was already pregnant with their third child before he died. So, few months after the tragic incident, Yemi gave birth to a cute baby boy who, as expected was christened “BABATUNDE” (meaning the father has returned).
It’s over a year now that these things happened, yet it’s like yesterday and each time I remember I feel like giving up everything. I feel like not living again. But I MUST LIVE and I MUST SUCCEED, so that what the duo lived for could be kept alive. Adieu Chicago: fare thee well Tunero