I am told that Ovuodoroye translates roughly to mean ‘everyman with his own greatness’ in Urhobo language. If that is so, then Olorogun Felix Ibru who passed on last week certainly lived up to his name. Ovuodoroye is the native and middle name in Olorogun Felix O. Ibru.

I spent two hours with Dr Christopher Kolade, the elder statesman at his home last week. So rich is my experience, so varied is my take-away after such a meeting that I always wish there could be more of such meetings but Dr Kolade is still a very busy man even at his age. It was our first meeting of the year, and there seemed to be more to discuss than time allowed. But two areas that are inescapable in our discussions no matter how tight the time, are his passion for God, and his passion for Nigeria.

You’ve got to love the social media, especially if you are no longer in your ‘active’ years and the phenomenon has grown on you as opposed to the other way round. The amount of creative work out there is simply amazing. A Nigerian friend who lives in the US said to me: “Nigerians are either very creative or very idle”. To which I added “or both”. According to him, most of the stuff he gets are from his Nigerian contacts. We seem to be able to reduce every situation we find ourselves in to words and graphics and in a language that is simple but profound; hilarious but serious. I received one of such messages last week that I wish to share because it describes the situation we find ourselves in very aptly. Here goes….

I have had a hilarious time in the days before and after the Valentine day enjoying the powers of the social media at their creative best. I saw many versions of the President’s famous: ‘I belong to everybody and I belong to nobody’ from both the male and the female points of view as different forms of unfaithfulness and callousness were displayed. I saw the many creative ways male lovers used in dodging their financial obligations.

Let me start with a personal story. At a point in my life, I ignored the church like many youths in their 20s still do. It’s the rebel in us that wants to break away from the sermons and doctrines that we have been force-fed with in childhood and adolescence especially those who have attended mission schools. I opted for squash, Sunday luncheons, social visits, movies or simply to sleep off Saturday night hang overs. It didn’t help that I was in a profession that did not see Sunday as a hallowed day. But habits and characters formed in childhood are difficult to completely shake off and the lure of the church became stronger as I grew older.

A lady in a high brow catholic parish died recently. She was only 48. Yet at that relatively young age, she had put herself in different positions of service within the church that almost everybody—the old, the young, the rich, the poor, the cleric and the laity—remembered her. And like Lydia in the Holy Book, almost everybody had good things to say concerning her. As she was in the church, so she was at home and with close friends. She had made herself so relevant in people’s lives that many remembered one kind deed, one kind gesture or the other. Hers was a life that was short but impactful.