Uncle Dele,
Permit me to tender an unreserved apology for this open letter. I am not here to provoke your traumatized spirit. I cannot even massage your bombed ego but to celebrate you as a prominent champion of truth in Nigeria.
Your killers like the proverbial predators are still walking as free men, desperately searching for more preys to kill.
Uncle Dele, you inspired me to fall in love with journalism as a teenager who grew up in Abeokuta, the cradle of journalism in Nigeria.
I was a fanatical reader of your column, Parallax Snaps. You’re not only a pen technocrat but a world-class wordsmith and erudite investigative journalist.
Exactly 32 years ago today, shameless agents of darkness in your country nailed you with the novel instrumentality of parcel bomb. That was the first act of terrorism against the fourth estate of the realm. To open any parcel from anywhere, your tragedy must always caution the opener to be extra careful.
I just compared your tragedy with that Saudi Arabian journalist, Jamal Khashoggi who mysteriously vanished from his country’s Consulate in Turkey on October 2nd, 2018.
Permit me to quote you right now :”Any innocent soul checkmated by death in cold blood is like killing in pogroms.”
I won’t tell you about Billy, your son who collected the brown parcel from that demonic courier man on that black Sunday, I learnt he is now a full-time ‘White-garment’ man of God(Aladura style!) in North London.
Will I break your heart if I tell you about Newswatch magazine? The magazine you established with your three friends : Ray Ekpu, Dan Agbese and Yakubu Muhammed. The magazine is not only moribund but comatose, epileptic and out of circulation.
A strange millionaire from the moon known as “Friday Abraham” bought your Newswatch with stained wads of cash and the rest is now history.
Florence Ita-Giwa? Your ex-wife with the sobriquet of Mama Bakassi? I won’t say anything to make you turn in your grave with bottled anger and resentment.
According to Yoruba adage, “Opolo ni to ba de ibi iru, e je ki a fo.” Meaning, a frog says if it is about missing tail, we should just move to another topic.
I won’t go deeper to explain anybody’s romance with your oppressors but as Mamman Vatsa once said: “Stories go plenty on judgment day.”
Jamal Khashoggi was born with a silver spoon in Medina city of Saudi Arabia, he grew up in a mansion decorated with raw gold. He worked with Saudi royal family plus wealthy friends in top places.
Uncle Dele Giwa, you grew up in abject poverty but you courageously declared Fatwa on the first enemy of humanity, (Poverty) with your prolific pen.
According to you, “Poverty is only good in sermons but very bad in practice.”
I am sure you’ve seen Jamal, nephew of that high-profile Saudi Arabian arms dealer, Billionaire Adnan Khashoggi at the other side.
Jamal studied in Indiana but you’re a Nigerian New Yorker. You both had an American education.
Uncle Dele Giwa, some meddlesome interlopers and professional conspiracy theorists maliciously tagged you as a blackmailer who tried to betray the military government of the Machiavellian Prince of Minna.
Chief Gani Fawehinmi (SAN) tried all possible means to get justice for you through the court of law. He is over there with you. Ask him for details.
For Dele Giwa, Adnan Khashoggi and all journalists murdered in cold blood by enemies of truth, move from earth to earth, roll with the spirits and continue to torment your killers in their dreams until the day of judgment.
You died about 5 months to your 40th birthday while Jamal vanished just 11 days to his 60th birthday. That’s life.
How best to weave more consoling words into dirges than to say your faceless killers have murdered sleep and they shall sleep no more.
They shall always walk when the road is crudely famished and desperately thirsty for human blood.
Thank you very much for reading my open letter.
Yours in Journalism,
Dare Lasisi
Publisher/CEO, Dare Lasisi Online
Egunmogaji of Nigerian Bloggers
Acting Vice-Chancellor of UniSambisa.
