The question can’t be: “Have you heard about him?” It should be: “Have you met him?”
Billionaire businessman, adroit administrator, humanitarian, noiseless philanthropist, and youth builder Kunle Soname, will effortlessly don the epaulette of: “Pillar of Football in Africa,” going by his exploits in football development home and abroad. Talk of power of enthusiasm backed by conviction.
So last Thursday, a beloved uncle invited me to visit the moneyed one with him. Despite my worries about Ogun State roads, the terror of the highway: articulated vehicles (trailers in local parlance), which recklessly ply the axis in their numbers, and the regular reports of carnage, I accepted the offer. So off we went to Ikenne, which also needs no introduction. The sage, Chief Obafemi Awolowo, already ensured it as one of the most famous geographical entities in Nigeria, situating his place of birth alongside his evergreen memory in the heart of millions. Ikenne, in brief, is a centrepiece of Nigerian history.
The efforts of Fuji star, Adewale Ayuba in projecting the town, can’t also be overlooked. When we drove past a building with “Ereke” something, truth be told, I didn’t immediately remember Awolowo whose 1949 Nigerian Tribune dream has accommodated my journalism career for more than a quarter of a century. That was because appraising the town from the cognomen angle would not be Awo’s thing, but it was surely Ayuba’s. Different men, different epochs, different callings. But the undisputed is never in doubt: immortal Awo.
It would seem another immortality is being meticulously inked. By Kunle Soname. Building for today, for now, and for the lifetime.
My uncle is a big football buff. It was only in the course of the trip I learnt that, but for medicine that chose him, he would have earned a living and a name, tapping the round leather! Even now at 73, his eyes always carry a twinkle when he talks football. Such passion.
His path crossed Soname’s in Lagos as council administrators in years gone by, but the bond is now araldited by mutual love, respect and wait for it: passion for developmental football!
Uncle is so enamoured of Soname he practically wrote a mini biography of him, in my head, as we drove into his massive sports complex, with a 6,000-seat capacity stadium, approved by the Confederation of African Football (CAF), hosting continental matches, and frequently utilised by other African countries for training camp ahead major competitions.
Again, one man’s dream. Just like Awo.
By every stretch of contemplation, Soname is a huge success story and though I recently saw him on television during his last birthday, the visit was the first time of seeing him flesh and blood and what a man behind the monumental strides I encountered!
Almost as we were stepping into the reception of the massive complex, complete with a soccer academy, and of course serving as Remo Star FC (solely owned by him again) home ground, he showed up to usher us into his office. Simple, almost casual but classy outfit. What humility. The usual airs about deep pockets? None.
Uncle introduced us. Soname didn’t have to “form” a big man. God has done that for him. His smile, no scratch that, his resonant laughter, was contagious. In no time, everybody was so relaxed in the circle, that it didn’t seem like we were just acquainted. His warmth, all-pervading.
Done and time to leave, I had no choice but to compliment the future-centric use he has put the much God has directed his way. He would bend to take your handshake! Just saying, without getting into free advertising, his investment is almost everywhere; though he is most famous for his airline, sports betting platform, football clubs home and abroad and an office cabinet bursting at mainframes with awards! And the ringing laughs!
You consign him to his most-known investments at your own ignorance but it is not from my mouth you will hear he is also playing big in banking, agriculture, petroleum, and a host of other landmark investments, with his land of birth, warehousing his umbilical cord, being the major beneficiary. That is how to give back; to your own, to humanity!
Of course as a journalist, I was itching to engage him reportorially. But the Yoruba will say there are times there would be things to discuss but no time to spare and times when there would be time to spare but nothing worthwhile to talk about. But there will always be that day that both time and worthy stuff would jam. During the visit, it would be most inappropriate to jump on him for an interview even when he wasn’t pre-notified a journalist was in tow. And the visit was originally what the Yoruba will call o to’jo meta (social/casual/good will) visit.
Even when he demonstrated great fecundity in dissecting politics, governance and the economy (obviously his forte as a major global player), it would still be wrong ambushing him to do something to be documented for future references, extemporaneously.
That doesn’t mean he would get a cheat-list when he consents to an interview. Spontaneous stuffs can be intriguing. No advance questions. So for this visit, there was plenty to talk about, but literally, no time. I doubt the second situation will ever apply. For time to be available and nothing to talk about? Journalists are trained to get even the mum-under-oath talk when necessary and the gentleman billionaire has been playing big home and abroad, in some kind of media space, for a long time, even when he’s not always out there, doing what the Yoruba will call se ka ri mi (self-advertising).
So I know someday will be the right time to engage.
I took an authorised, semi-supervised (uncle) tour of the facility. I saw young boys in their kits readying for training. Their dream, palpable. Ronaldo lives rent-free in the hearts of millions of their kind from Belgrade to Ikot-Ekpene. They want to be global superstars. I have them in my house, training in our compound corner in blistering sun; not even succumbing to the threats of forcing bitter Malaria drugs down their throats when the sun goes down and malaria kicks in. The Soname haven is incubating many of those dreams and the dreamers; the order around, the serenity, the pure joy on the faces of those boys and the finicky neatest of everywhere, including the walls. Maybe I will relocate to Ilesa too, carve a portion of Iwaraja and live my give-back dream like Soname! Only that I stopped loving football because of heartaches. Politics is also gradually easing out of my system. The only thing I can’t seem to shake off is not discussing it. Practically everyone around me is participating one way or the other!
I’m writing about the Soname Ikenne miracle because it’s real. That was no packaging. There was no notification a journalist was coming with his longtime associate. It was while seated we were introduced and there was no time to try rearranging the environment to suit scripted narratives. The security guys at the gate took their jobs like job, as the Yoruba will acknowledge dutiful fellows; they would not let us in until clearance with the “chairman”, who of course, is Soname. Security of the facility is top-notch.
I wish Mr. Soname would be more out there; delivering lectures across classrooms and boardrooms, interacting more with young people on pedestals he has conquered; governance, administration, entrepreneurship, politics, business development and youth leadership programmes. Beyond the accomplishments, it is important for both old and young, rich and poor, stragglers and the successful, to learn from him how a lorry-load of cash can easily jell with humility in one man, brimming with joy, living like the person next door. That is how to enjoy special grace. God doesn’t resist his kind.
But I can’t help noticing something about him. It was his wrist. In a shift I can’t readily explain, swanky wristwatches have become collector’s items for me. I checked out Soname’s. It didn’t disappoint, though the overall simplicity of his appearance, carriage and euphonious personality can’t be denied. May God deliver us from the love of wristwatches. Amen.
