AS “BAD MEAT” GOES HOME…

"About an hour later, he and Segun were seeing me off, when he told me he had a testimony. He then told me how as he was seeking the Holy Spirit’s leading concerning his driver’s licence, he felt led to go to a pile of books right inside his office. He obeyed, took the one right under the pile, opened it and lo and behold, his licence stared back at him! His boyish face lighting up in a smile, he said: “I wish I could live my life this way.'”
 

I was still home on the morning of March 5, when I got a call from my friend, Tunde Fagbenle, the political activist, now of the Kick Out Siddon Look campaign, columnist and entrepreneur. Have you heard, he asked and before I could respond, he told me how that “Bad Meat” was dead; that he died in a flood that resulted from the heavy downpour of the night before; and how it happened virtually in his own car on his way home, right there on Agege Motor Road, a mere ten minutes’ drive to the warmth of home and the embrace of his waiting wife.

My heart almost stopped. “Bad Meat”, as Dele Odegbami, elder brother of Segun, had been known since his days as a no-nonsense, hard-tackling defender on the football pitch, was not just my friend’s brother, he was my friend.

Yes, I know there are a thousand and one others across the length and breadth of Nigeria who have better claim to that title, but that is the nature of the man. Whenever you were with him, he made you feel special. That explains why those who’ll miss him are legion.
 

Let me tell you just one of the many things that I would never forget about this man, who died prematurely that Monday night in Lagos. When I was ordained a pastor many years ago, Dele was the ONLY one of my friends who did not ostracise me! Although, I have since been restored, virtually all else simply stopped calling me; stopped inviting me to even family events. It was as if I had contacted leprosy! Although, I now understand the spiritual import of the development, I didn’t then and it hurt!

Dele didn’t just kept in touch, he responded to my invitation to the many Christian Men’s Network Nigeria events, which had become my passion, he would send me the Thursday Showers newsletter of his church, Fountain of Life Church and materials from Radio Bible Class. He was an encourager then and he remained one till the very end.
 

Our last two one-on-one interactions would remain evergreen in my memory. The very last one was about two weeks before his sudden departure. We sat in his office as he told me about his experience at the Pastors and Leaders retreat of Fountain of Life Church, where he had become a strong member of the Abraham and Sarah fellowship and a respected leader. He was humbled, he said, by what he learnt. He spoke about being better able to understand what it meant to be a pastor and how much better he now appreciated pastors.

A month or so earlier, on one of my visits to the Oweh Street office of Worldwide Sports, where he operated from, he, as he wont to do, told me how he had been stopped by a traffic officer the day before and asked for his driver’s licence. He looked everywhere in his car and couldn’t find it. It took the officer’s grace at recognising the Odegbami name to let him off.
 

As a result of that he had spent several hours since then looking for the license.  As we spoke, he said he had sent his car to the car wash with instructions to turn it inside out and, if necessary upside down, all in search of the licence. Innocently, I asked: “have you asked the Holy Spirit?” No, he replied and proceeded to do so, immediately. I left him to meet with Segun.

About an hour later, he and Segun were seeing me off, when he told me he had a testimony. He then told me how as he was seeking the Holy Spirit’s leading concerning his driver’s licence, he felt led to go to a pile of books right inside his office. He obeyed, took the one right under the pile, opened it and lo and behold, his licence stared back at him!
 

His boyish face lighting up in a smile, he said: “I wish I could live my life this way.”

This brings me to my puzzle about the manner of his death. As Segun put it in his beautiful tribute to him, “Only God, his creator, actually knows what happened” when he found himself in that flood-induced traffic jam. “Through the ordeal of that night he was first on the phone with Otunba, his friend. After that, several times, he ran the ‘commentary’ of what was happening to him inside the car particularly how the water level was rising and the flooded environment. At one point during their conversation she screamed at him to abandon the car and get out to save himself.  For some reason he assured her to stop worrying, that he would be fine, and remained in the car.”  

 

Then he gave this poser: “Why did he not get out of his car and wade through the floods to safety?  Why did he not break the windshield of the car if he was trapped and could not open the door of the car due to the pressure of rushing water outside? Why did he not do any one of several possible things that everyone that hears the story thinks he should have done?” 

 

And I am wondering, did he ask the Holy Spirit? I know there’s nothing he would have wanted at that moment better than to hear God’s voice at that critical moment. Did he? My guess is he did and he must have heard Him say “come home, son.” He obeyed and some of us are the lonelier for it.  As his body is laid to rest this Friday at Wasimi, all I can say is thanks, “Bad Meat”, for being an exemplar in more ways than one.