Tibi tire la da ile aiye—we are told early in life that existence is a mix of the good and the bad. My grandfather, Pa Sanni Owolabi Ojudu, alias TK Wonder, would often sing a dirge-like refrain during his low moments: Ugbamurin a dun yin, Ugbamurin a kan go—sometimes life is sweet, and other times it is bitter.
This encapsulates my experience over the past year. In semi-retirement, I found new passions that brought me joy and fulfillment. I began to view life differently, seeing issues more empathetically from other people’s perspectives. I found myself railing less at those who fell short of my expectations: the dishonest, the untrustworthy, and the outright betrayers. They no longer ruffle my nerves as they once did. I now see them for who they are but refuse to let their actions disturb my peace.
A few years ago, when I was in the Senate, a colleague—who today wields enormous power—called my wife and said, “Talk to your husband. He is too angry. He cannot change Nigeria alone. In fact, no one can change Nigeria.” At the time, I was consumed by frustration at the pervasive shenanigans around me, and I was teetering on the edge of depression. By the end of my four-year term, I decided I would not return to the Senate.
This year, I gained a better perspective. While it is necessary to pray and work for change in our country, I have learned not to neglect the small joys that make life meaningful. Not by joining the endless pursuit of material gain, but by finding fulfillment in the simple things: humor, dance, reading, association , appreciating art, opening my senses to the gift of music, witnessing the growth of animals and plants, feeding fishes, teetering goats, admiring geese, watching artist carving, painting and sculpting and seeking harmony with nature. Letting go of little irritable and irritants. Learning more and loving more.
This shift has been rewarding. I have shared this new outlook with friends and acquaintances who visit my acres of bliss at The Farm. It has become a place where I reconnect with myself and with life’s gentle rhythms.
But it hasn’t been all bliss. The betrayals by our country’s leadership have left many Nigerians in excruciating pain, a pain from which I could not totally extricate myself. Poverty, disease, frustration, deprivation, and a lack of direction have dehumanized millions. Watching the daily struggles of our people can’t help but weigh heavily on the soul, leading to moments of despair and gnashing of teeth.
On a personal level, I had to deal with a painful injury. A fall in my bedroom left me with a fractured leg. The experience was humbling, a stark reminder that I am not as young as I once was and that I need to slow down. Yet even in that pain, there were lessons to learn.
One of the year’s most fulfilling accomplishments was publishing a newsletter on LinkedIn, which I also share on Facebook and Medium. In less than a year, the newsletter has gained nearly 18,000 subscribers. Through it, I have explored topics such as nation-building, freedom of speech, art and culture, and the environment. The overwhelming reaction and engagement have been encouraging, especially in a time when sustained writing often goes unnoticed.
This newsletter reignited a passion I had nurtured for over 30 years as a journalist before politics claimed me. Even during the painful weeks of being confined with my leg in a cast, writing became my solace. It gave me purpose and kept me going through the monotony of immobility.
This writing journey culminated in the publication of Adventures of a Guerrilla Journalist, a memoir of my journalism years. The book has garnered the attention of a few Nigerians who still value reading, and it has brought me immense satisfaction.
As the year ends, I reflect on its lessons: life is an intricate balance of pain and gain, sweetness and bitterness. But within this balance lies an opportunity—to love, to appreciate the little things, and to find joy even amidst challenges. That, I have learned, is the essence of truly living.
