My esteemed brother and companion of many years, Sikiru Akinola- affectionately known as SK or Oranmiyan- attained the milestone of 40 on Friday. To my profound regret, my family allowed the occasion to pass unobserved, an oversight for which we offer our most sincere apologies.

I must acknowledge the immense debt of gratitude I owe to SK, a sentiment fully shared by my family. But you cannot blame me for the oversight as well. Since the unfortunate death of the publisher of Eagle Online, Dotun Oladipo, a man described by many as an unquantifiable asset, I simply retreated into my shell. I walked away from prolonged presence on social media.

In fact, I didn’t know the spotlight on me by the Wole Soyinka Centre for Investigative Journalism had been shared on Facebook until very late in the night on Friday, and I couldn’t acknowledge the flurry of good wishes from family and friends.  

Mr Oladipo’s departure remains a visceral wound. Through the introduction of the Head of Media and External Relations at United Bank for Africa, Ramon Nasir, we had cultivated a relationship; I drew great inspiration from his quiet humility and entrepreneurial vision, even as I observed from a respectful distance.

Back to my brother, who has just been “fourtified” against all evils, we can only say a very happy birthday to you. 

Sikiru Akinola has a history of almost one and a half decades with me. He was an undergraduate at the Obafemi Awolowo University (OAU), Ile-Ife, when he was introduced to me by a comrade, brother and friend, and former President of the university’s students’ union, Akinola Saburi. That was around 2011, when I was the Campus Page Editor of the now-defunct National Mirror.

Over the years, Sikiru became part of a remarkable network of young journalists and campus correspondents I encountered across Nigerian universities- people like Kemi Busari, Taiwo Adebulu from OAU; Wale Bakare and Habeeb White from the University of Ilorin; Hamzat Ahmed from the University of Ibadan, and Musiliudeen Adebayo from the University of Jos, among others.

But with Sikiru, like a few of them, the relationship went beyond journalism. He has been a brother, friend, and colleague for almost 15 years. And to be candid, in all my years of journalism, I doubt if anyone has supported me on the field better than Sikiru. Maybe Kabir Adejumo, another great brother and mentee, who calls me “father.”

From 2014 until around 2021 or so, I traversed many lands with SK. He was my surest plug for field trips across the Southwest. From Ondo to Oyo, Osun and several other places, SK was almost always available.

He is a networker extraordinaire. He can relate with virtually anyone, at any level. He always seems to know someone who knows someone who knows something about whatever you need- no matter how urgent.

And, perhaps most importantly, he is selfless about it. He was simply helping a brother and friend, and, in the process, gaining experience.

The journey to Okerete

Of all our journeys, the trip to Okerete, Nigeria’s border town with the Benin Republic beyond Saki in Oyo State, remains the riskiest.

I was Deputy Head of Investigations at PREMIUM TIMES at the time. President Muhammadu Buhari’s administration had imposed a border closure and lockdown, and I was assigned to monitor developments around Oyo State’s border communities.

On that particular trip, I engaged a driver because I did not want to combine driving with field reporting. We drove to Ibadan to pick up SK. As usual, he was already waiting at a fuel station along the Iwo Road–Ojoo axis. And we headed for Saki.

In Saki, we were warned that if we intended to reach Okerete that day, we should forget about taking our car. The road was so bad that we were told the Lexus ES 330 sedan we came with might not survive the journey.

The solution was simple: charter a motorcycle.

We left the driver behind with some of the sources SK had connected me with in Saki and, at about 4 p.m., jumped on a motorcycle to Okerete.

What followed was more than four hours of one of the longest and riskiest motorcycle journeys of my life.

We traversed smuggling routes, skirted across vast farmlands, and navigated ridges on paths that scarcely deserved the name of roads. We reached Okerete under the veil of night, finding rest in a modest hut until dawn.

The next day, we had the opportunity to observe the activities around the border. We saw smugglers at work and non-Nigerians trooping into the country through a narrow path across a flowing stream that demarcated Nigeria from the Benin Republic.

I was exhausted. My hips were already in severe pain, and I dreaded the thought of returning to Saki on that motorcycle. But SK never complained.

Instead, he remained energetic, curious, and focused. That trip perhaps best captured the Sikiru I have known for more than a decade. Once we settled into Okerete, I began to notice some of the peculiarities of life around the border.

There were fuel stations everywhere- sometimes seemingly more fuel stations than cars. Yet, there was hardly any fuel to buy. Many of the stations appeared to exist primarily to lift fuel for onward movement across the border.

Motorcycles, loaded with tons of kegs, ferried fuel through the bush paths into the neighbouring country. Beyond the fuel business, young men and women from Oyo were involved in moving alcohol, bags of rice and other commodities across the border.

The smugglers’ vehicles were often rickety, with their absorbers raised far beyond what would be considered normal. They were built, or modified, to withstand the rough terrain and evade security checks.

It was a strange world- one that could only truly be understood by going there.

And I was fortunate to have SK beside me.

More than a field companion

That Okerete trip was not an isolated experience.

For years, Sikiru was the person I could call when a story required going somewhere difficult, unfamiliar, or inconvenient. He understood the terrain. He knew people. He could open doors. And he was willing to go.

Sometimes, journalism takes you to places where the story is only half the challenge. The other half is getting there, finding people willing to talk and surviving the journey back.

SK made that easier.

In one day in 2021, we travelled from Ibadan to Iseyin, and then to Okeho in Kajola Local Government Area of Oyo State, where I paid an unscheduled visit to the mother of my friends and brothers, Kunle and Bayo Azeez. From Okeho, we travelled to Igbojaye in Itesiwaju Local Government Area, where an abandoned earth dam by the Ogun Osun River Basin Development Authority was at the centre of our investigation.

We then moved from Igbojaye to Ogbomoso to check another abandoned water project, more like corruption pipes. We finally arrived in the comfort of my mother in Ilobu, headquarters of Irepodun Local Government Area of Osun State, where SK was already a homeboy.

Other times, we flew    

There were other times we moved beyond the Southwest. When Actionaid Nigeria was implementing the Strengthening Citizens Resistance Against Prevalence of Corruption (SCRAP-C) project, we flew from Lagos to Enugu, and drove from Enugu to Akwa-Ibom, before flying back to our bases, and worked with activists to fight the endemic culture of corruption.

I recalled that in Uyo, a former president of the students’ union at OAU, now a medical doctor in the Nigerian military, Adeniyi Adenekan (Dr 3As), hosted us to a sumptuous meal of pounded yam and edikang ikong on one afternoon.

Though Sikiru Akinola is from Apaara compound in Oyo town, he sometimes jokes that he could claim Jagun compound in Ilobu because of his relationship with the Alabis of Ilobu.

As far back as 2014, SK had been visiting Ilobu and had built a relationship with our family. During the 2014 governorship election in Osun State, SK was not just on the field with me; he practically turned into an Ilobu boy.

I may not have been to Apaara compound in Oyo town, I have slept in Sikiru’s apartments more than once. And his wife, Eniola, has been a worthy companion.

Sk once sent guinea fowl meat to my wife from Ibadan. That is how caring he could be. And even as recent as 2025, I only put a call through to him to support the organisers of the OAU alumni gathering, and without hesitating, he blessed our friends with his financial support.    

Looking back, I realise that some of my most memorable field experiences were not just about the stories we pursued. They were about the people who accompanied us, helped us, and made the difficult journeys worthwhile.

Sikiru Akinola was one of those people.

Many years after we met, I am grateful that what started as a professional connection became brotherhood and friendship.

At 40, Oranmiyan has travelled many roads- professionally and personally. I have no doubt there are many more roads ahead.

Happy 40th birthday, SK.

Thank you for the journeys, the connections, the laughter, the risks, the support and, above all, the brotherhood.

May the next 40 be even more remarkable