The Saki Parapo Group Chat is a platform I visit constantly, sometimes at any hour of the day, not merely to chat, but to stay connected to the pulse of our community and stay abreast of happenings at home. It was therefore with profound sadness that I learned of the passing of one of Saki’s foremost political icons, community leaders, and religious figures, Alhaji Raheem Durojaiye.
Death is the one appointment from which no mortal can obtain an exemption. It is the inevitable terminus of the human journey, a universal destiny that makes no distinction between the rich and the poor, the powerful and the powerless, the celebrated and the obscure. As the ancient Romans aptly put it, “Memento mori” – remember that you must die. Yet, while death may silence the voice, it does not necessarily erase the footprints a person leaves upon the sands of time.
Indeed, some people never truly die. They continue to live through the lives they touched, the causes they championed, the people they lifted, and the communities they transformed. Philanthropists live through the beneficiaries of their generosity. Political leaders live through the institutions, ideas and social changes they helped to inspire. Scholars survive in their writings and teachings; artists and musicians endure through their works; and community builders remain present in the collective memory of the people they served.
In this sense, Baba Raheem Durojaiye belongs to that rare company of people whose physical departure cannot extinguish their presence. His was a life intertwined with politics, community service, faith and human relationships. He was more than a political actor; he was a recognizable figure in Oke-Ogun, a man whose name became woven into the political tapestry of Saki.
There is, however, a poignant irony in the title by which some may remember his political journey: “The Governor Who Never Reigned.” History is sometimes cruel in the way it separates ambition from attainment. A man may possess the vision, courage, influence and following necessary to occupy the highest office, yet destiny may write a different chapter. But perhaps public office is not the only measure of political greatness. A throne is temporary; an enduring legacy is eternal.
As Shakespeare reminds us, “All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players.” Each of us enters, performs our appointed role, and eventually makes an exit. What matters ultimately is not how long we remained on the stage, but what we did while the curtain was raised.
I believe that on the Resurrection Morning, by the mercy and grace of Almighty Allah, Alhaji Raheem Durojaiye will meet again with other departed political comrades and notable figures, Chief GB Adeleke, Chief Michael Babalaje Akano Omo Koleosho, Chief Jagumolu Tijani Mosa, Baba Digba Ogidigbo, Nascotech Aribidesi, Ikuogboogun, and many others who have gone. Perhaps then, beyond the boundaries of earthly politics, titles, contests and ambitions, they will meet as fellow travellers who have finally completed their journey, holding hands in gratitude to the Almighty for granting them eternal rest.
The Qur’an reminds us: “Every soul shall taste death.” (Qur’an 3:185). Death, therefore, is not an aberration but a passage that awaits every human being. What remains within our power is to live in such a manner that when we depart, our absence is felt not merely because we existed, but because our existence mattered.
Baba Durojaiye has now answered the final call. The political arena may have lost one of its veterans, Oke-Ogun one of its voices, and his family a beloved patriarch. But the memories, relationships and legacies he created will continue to speak long after the mourners have returned home and the funeral rites have ended. As the Yoruba say, “A kì í gb’óde, ká má gb’ókè; ohun tí a bá ṣe ló ń bá wa lọ.” We may leave this earthly realm, but the imprint of what we did follows us.
May Almighty Allah, in His infinite mercy, forgive the shortcomings of Alhaji Raheem Durojaiye, accept his good deeds, illuminate and widen his grave, grant him Al-Jannatul Firdaus, and make his transition a source of reflection and spiritual renewal for all who knew him. May Allah grant his family, friends, political associates and the entire Saki community the fortitude to bear this irreparable loss.
O dàárọ̀, Baba Durojaiye.
You have left the stage, but your footprints remain upon the sands of Saki’s history.
