Adegbonmire: A Passionate Senator Building Brighter Tomorrows.

Adegbonmire: A Passionate Senator Building Brighter Tomorrows.

The first time I saw him, he was just a man in a queue. 

It was an ordinary afternoon in a banking hall humming with transactions and slow movements from the many people on the several queues in the hall, my father and I were also in a queue, waiting our turn at one of the many queues at the counter. I didn't notice him until the whispers began. 

 

“Good afternoon, Senator!” The bank staff leaned over counters, palms pressed together in respect. There was a sudden air of surprise and respect and murmurs of greetings as the Senator approached the counter to make his transaction.

 

From across the room on our queue, I tugged my father’s sleeve. “Is that truly a Senator?” I asked, my voice hushed.

In my young mind, Senators didn’t stand in lines. They swept past queues into offices where managers served tea and deference. 

But there he was: Senator Adeniyi Adegbonmire, waiting his turn like a man who understood the weight of small dignities. No fanfare, no entourage. Just a man.

  

Years later, fate would stitch our stories together again. 

At the 2024 Christ Apostolic Church Good Women Association Conference, the 80th of such, which I attended with my published books, he appeared once more. This time, he was not just a Senator but a promise in motion.

 He heard the story of my literary journey, of how I began writing at just the age of eight and how at the age of sixteen, I had written six books of prose and poetry. Most importantly, he got to know that I wished to study Law.

And without preamble, he made a vow: “I will sponsor your education from University to Law school.”

 

What struck me then, what still humbles me now—was what he didn’t do. 

He never summoned my parents to his office, never demanded their gratitude or allegiance. He didn’t ask which political party they supported or belonged. 

To Senator Adeniyi Adegbonmire, my dreams weren’t a transaction; they were a thread in the broader tapestry of Ondo States’ future and Nigeria at large.

 

Here was a man who governed as he queued: without pretense, without shortcuts. A leader who understood that education isn’t a favor but a fire, one that, once lit, could outshine the shadows of poverty and ignorance. 

His scholarship wasn’t a handshake for the cameras; it was a promise made in the Church that day because he believed in me and wanted to help me achieve my dream of becoming a Lawyer.

 

When I think of him now, I see not just a benefactor but a parable. A reminder that the truest leaders are those who plant trees under whose shade they may never sit. 

My parents still marvel at his anonymity in generosity, at how he gifted wings without demanding to own the sky.

 

And so, as I walk the halls of Joseph Ayo Babalola University, Ikeji-Arakeji, Osun State, law books heavy in my arms, I carry two truths: that destiny often wears the guise of ordinary moments—a queue, a conversation, a choice to see potential where others see politics. And that somewhere in Ondo Central, a Senator still stands in lines, still believes in futures, still writes his legacy not in speeches, but in stories like mine.

Written by:

Elizabeth O. Ogunmodede

An Author and a Law Student at the Joseph Ayo Babalola University

Ikeji Arakeji, Osun State.