13th Remembrance: A posthumous tribute to an etiquette expert, Oyetola’s mother

By Jimoh Olorede

Death is an inevitability that makes this life awful, rueful, regretful, mournful, woeful, and sorrowful. Death is an equalizer that kills the poor same way it kills the rich, just as a president would die same way as the pauper.

Death, often times, appears unjust by killing the saints and sparing the devils. This reminds of a Yoruba adage that says “Igi toto kii pe ngbo”, meaning impeccable trees don’t live long in the forest. Alhaja Wulemot Oyetola, mother of the immediate-past governor of Osun State and now Minister of Marine and Blue Economy, Alhaji Isiaka Adegboyega Oyetola, would still have been living with us, but for the unavoidability, cruelty and partiality of death.

Nevertheless, “Oku olomo kii ku”, as a Yoruba adage says, meaning a deceased who left children of substance doesn’t die. Alhaja Wulemot would be celebrated again on Wednesday, March 6, 2024, umpteen times thirteen years after her departure, because she doesn’t die, inasmuch as her highly successful children live. Her eldest son, the Hon. Minister, Alhaji Isiaka Adegboyega Oyetola and his beloved siblings namely Alhaja Mulikat Oyetola, Mr. Adekunle Oluwagbenga Oyetola, Alh. Muftau Olatunde (Tundex) Oyetola, Mrs. Adenike Oyetola, and Messrs Taofeek Adewale and Akeem Opeyemi Oyetola, are a replica of Mama and her rectitude. She’s like a proverbial productive and protective (human) hen that laid seven eggs and hatched all of them to fruition and destiny fulfillment.

Oyetola’s Mom was endearing, kind, emotionally strong, extraordinary, intuitive, caring and mindful. She was the glue that held all his children and by extension, all of us together. I grew up to know Alhaja Oyetola Alaso (‘Alaso’ meaning cloth-seller), as we fondly addressed her, as a senior family mother. With a building in-between, my father’s house is just a stone’s throw to the Minister’s father, Alhaji Ahmed Oyetola’s house. Alhaja was well-celebrated for her impeccable manners as an etiquette expert. To the world, she’s one person, but to us, she’s the world, as she was gregariously compassionately enough to accommodate all of us.

Before her departure from us, she loved to address me as “Alakaa”, a name attached to my father’s as a founder of a small town in Atakunmosa East local government area of Osun State, via Owena Ijesa, popularly known as “Alakaa”. Alhaja Wulemot was an epitome of a virtuous wife any lucky man could get married to, and a compassionate rare gem any lucky child could have as a mother. She didn’t have much because of her sacrifice for us, but we felt we had everything. The world changes from year to year, and our lives from day to day, but the love and memory of Alhaja Oyetola shall never pass away.

Truly, impeccable trees, for reasons of their invaluable usefulness, don’t live long in the forest. Thirteen years ago, the messenger of death sneaked in and left with Alhaja Wulemot’s virtuous soul, leaving only the body for us. Death took the holiness in Mama and left the wholeness of her body in this transient, sinful, scornful, and sorrowful world. Because of her impeccability, death didn’t kill or harm her; it only came in unknowingly and took Mama’s gentle soul with itself to the world of the saints, where Alhaja Alaso would resurrect and live forever.

Mama was truly a rare gem. Once upon a time, I went on a holiday visit, during my undergraduate days, to my dear brother, Tunde Oyetola, popularly known as Tundex, one of Alhaja’s beloved sons, somewhere at Church Street, Low-cost Housing Estate, Oke-Afa, Isolo, Lagos, in company of Wasiu Oyetola. I met Mama at Tundex’ house and after spending a week or thereabouts, I decided to leave. However, what amazed me was her refusal of my departure. I was amazingly charmed by her disarming, modest and friendly smile when she rhetorically inquired: “Alakaa, maso fun mi pe o ti nlo o!” (meaning, Alakaa, as she used to call me, “don’t tell me you’re set to leave!). She didn’t allow me leave that day!

She behaved as though she’s a mother of all children whosoever came across her. Truly, a great soul serves everyone all the time; it never dies. We had a mother-general, but death took her away from us and threw us into a mournful funeral. However, our consolation resides in the fact that it couldn’t kill her canonized soul with which our Mama would resurrect and die no more. We only lost her body, not herself, as we’re still connected by heartstrings into infinity.

Dr. Olorede wrote from Oloti Street, Iragbiji, Osun State, via oloredejimoh@gmail.com.