Anike Arike Foundation

Anike Arike Foundation Non-Governmental Organization (NGO)

WHOEVER WROTE THIS DESERVES A MEDAL!"You Cannot Retire"I have come to this conclusion, not just from books or sermons, b...
14/08/2025

WHOEVER WROTE THIS DESERVES A MEDAL!

"You Cannot Retire"

I have come to this conclusion, not just from books or sermons, but from the steady drumbeat of real life. From watching friends, colleagues, family members, great men—men of wisdom, strength, and wealth—choose to retire... only to quietly fade into sickness, into sorrow, and then, far too soon, into the arms of death.

Retirement, in the way the world understands it, is not rest—it is resignation. Resignation from purpose. From duty. From the creative tension that keeps the spirit vibrant and alert.

We are taught that everything in Creation is in motion. Motion is life. Motion is law.
Look around you:

*. Rivers flow ceaselessly—wherever the current breaks off, water *. stagnates and death settles in.
*. The Earth rotates without pause.
*. The seasons march in perfect obedience.
*. Even the great stars above us dance in eternal cycles, never swerving, never stalling.

Man is no exception.

We were not made to rest. We were made to strive, to build, to create, to solve, to nurture.
The moment we choose to withdraw from life’s current, to step out of the stream and into the stagnant pool of ‘retirement,’ something begins to wither—first in the mind, then in the body, then in the soul.

You cannot retire from being alive.

What is needed is not retirement—but redirection. A man may leave a career, yes, but he must never leave his calling. He must find another field where his hands are needed, where his thoughts must still labor, where his spirit can continue to serve.

Inactivity is an invitation to decay.

A man must have something that:

* Keeps him curious,
* Keeps him responsible,
* Keeps him accountable,
* Keeps him needed.
For as long as breath remains, there must be engagement—with God, with purpose, with people, with destiny.

Even a candle in its last inch must burn with dignity, casting light until the final flicker.
Even in old age, the tree must still bear fruit—or at least cast shade.
Even at sunset, the sky must still paint itself with glory.

I speak this not only for myself but for all who may be tempted to think their work is done because the world says “retire.”

No. You may rest. You may change lanes. But you must never stop moving.

To stop is to rust.
To rust is to rot.
And to rot is to die—before your time.

So keep moving, my brothers. Keep thinking. Keep building. Keep giving. Keep creating.
Keep becoming.

That is the law. That is the way. That is life.

That is why I have chosen the path of an entrepreneur in "retirement"...

Author unknown

May history be kind to us . The exit of a true King.Read the story from  history ville 👇🏼👇🏼👇🏼On November 23, 1981, Gover...
15/07/2025

May history be kind to us .
The exit of a true King.
Read the story from history ville
👇🏼👇🏼👇🏼
On November 23, 1981, Governor Victor Olabisi Onabanjo of Ogun State signed a formal order suspending Oba Sikiru Adetona from office as the Awujale of Ijebuland until further notice. However, it soon turned to a deposition, and the removal was scheduled to take effect on January 2, 1984.

But the Muhammadu Buhari coup of December 31, 1983, which toppled President Shehu Shagari's civilian government, halted the plan. Buhari’s intervention inadvertently preserved the Awujale’s reign for the next 41 years.

By the early 1980s, Oba Sikiru Kayode Adetona, the Awujale of Ijebuland, and Governor Victor “Bisi” Onabanjo, both sons of Ijebu, had entered a tense phase. The foundation had been set years earlier, when Adetona had generously assisted Onabanjo during his illness and even provided accommodation and support while he studied in London. Yet as politics took centre stage, friendship gave way to rivalry, and personal ire would lead to a constitutional crisis.

In August 1981, Oba Adetona wrote to the governor notifying him of his upcoming trip to London for medical reasons, including his overseas address and phone number, purely informative, not requesting permission. Onabanjo replied, demanding more details of the trip and the health grounds, apparently implying that it needed his approval.

Oba Adetona bristled, reminding him that his letter was purely a courtesy update and that, as a traditional monarch, he did not require permission to travel. Defiant, he departed anyway, changing his phone number to avoid further contact.

On November 23, 1981, Governor Onabanjo issued a proclamation suspending the Awujale from office, an unprecedented move. He established a Commission of Inquiry under Justice Solomon O. Sogbetun to investigate Oba Adetona’s perceived insubordination and administrative conduct.

True to the governor’s intentions, the commission reported unfavourably, and by early 1982, the Awujale was formally deposed by the Ogun State Executive Council.

Oba Sikiru Kayode Adetona mounted a legal challenge against the Ogun State Government, contesting the validity of the Sogbetun Commission of Inquiry, which had recommended his deposition. His legal team was formidable, led by none other than Chief F.R.A. Williams, one of Nigeria’s greatest legal minds, and supported by Chief Sina Odedina, a prominent Ijebu lawyer.

As the case made its way through the courts, political events moved with dramatic speed. Governor Bisi Onabanjo, the man who had orchestrated the deposition, was re-elected and sworn in for a second term on October 1, 1983. For a time, it appeared that the Awujale’s fate had been sealed.

But destiny, always patient, waited quietly in the wings.

Just two months and 30 days later, on December 31, 1983, the Nigerian Second Republic collapsed in a swift military coup. In a broadcast, Brigadier Sani Abacha announced the takeover of the government by the military. The democratically elected administration of President Shehu Shagari was overthrown, and Major-General Muhammadu Buhari assumed the role of Head of State.

In Ogun State, Brigadier Oladipo Diya, a fellow Ijebu son from Odogbolu, was appointed the new Military Governor. The terrain had shifted.

Then, in 1984, the defining moment arrived.

Justice Kolawole of the Ogun State High Court delivered a landmark judgment. The court nullified the findings of the Sogbetun Commission and ruled that Oba Adetona’s deposition was unlawful. It ordered his immediate reinstatement to the stool of the Awujale of Ijebuland.

The military administration of Brigadier Diya, rather than appeal the ruling, respected the court’s decision. Without drama or delay, the judgment was enforced. And thus, Oba Sikiru Kayode Adetona returned to his throne in Ijebu Ode—restored, vindicated, and unbroken.

The monarch who had been deposed returned not in disgrace, but in quiet triumph. Like a cat with nine lives, he resumed his place not only as a custodian of tradition, but as a symbol of endurance, dignity, and the power of lawful resistance.

From that moment, a new era began: an era that would span decades, as Oba Adetona continued to reign with wisdom, courage, and conviction. The scars of 1981 remained, but they became part of a larger story, one of resilience in the face of injustice, and of a king who refused to be cowed.

Over the next 41 years, until his transition on July 13, 2025, Oba Sikiru Kayode Adetona would go on to become one of Nigeria’s longest-serving monarchs, revered across the nation not only for his longevity, but for the strength of his character and the example he set.

30/06/2025

I asked my husband to give me some money to make my hair but he told me he didn't have much on him, so he gave me just #2,500. I was so ángry with him. We have been married for a year and each time I asked him for money, he would always give me an amount that would not be sufficient for what I needed it for.

I had not gotten a job since I relocated to his place after the wedding, so I wasn't financially buoyant. I only lived on the stipends my husband gave me monthly which wasn't even enough to cater for my personal needs. As at that time, I was already six months pregnant.

"What will I do with #2,500? I told you I want to braid my hair. The attachment alone is 6k. My hairdresser will collect at least 4,500 to make the hair. What will I do with this money?" I asked angrily.

"Babe, you should understand how much I'm struggling to take care of expenses in this house. The money I spent on our wedding ceremony has really affected me because I exhausted all my savings. The fact that I'm still able to put down money in this house is because of the soft loan I get from work every month. I've told you about this before. Please, bear with me. It's just a season in time. We will soon get over it." My husband pleaded.

"Bear with me! Bear with me! This is what you say all the time! What kind of hair will I make with 2,500?" I hissed angrily and walked out of the house.

It was a sunny Saturday afternoon. I went straight to my hairdresser's shop but unfortunately, she was not around. Her shop was locked. I was disappointed.

"Where on earth did this one go to on a weekend like this?" I wondered.

I didn't want to go back home without making my hair, so I decided to try the other hairdresser who was on the third street to my house. I have never made my hair there but I once heard my neighbour mention that she was good at making nice styles... I just wanted to avoid going back home to my husband because I was still very ångry with him.

I got to the salon and thankfully, only one customer was on seat. She was almost done making her hair. I greeted the hairdresser and she offered me a seat.

"Mama Ibeji (a name pregnant women are usually called), will you like to have some water? The sun is hot." The hairdresser offered.

"No... I'm fine, thank you." I declined politely.

The lady making her hair came with a friend. They both continued gisting as the hairdresser continued with the lady's hair.

Few minutes later, I heard the lady who came with her friend say,

"Hey, Salome, see the guy I've been talking about. He's the one driving that car."

The lady making her hair quickly turned her neck to peep through the door and I followed her gaze to see the person being talked about. I was surprised to see my husband, driving slowly past the shop. He slowed down the vehicle as he approached the bump that was across the road.

"That is the guy..." The lady continued. "There is nothing I have not done to attract his attention but he would not even give me a second of his time. Every evening, he visits his friend's shop and they would gist till he would later go home. Since the day I met him there, I've been coming to that man's shop every evening just to make friends with this guy but he never gave me the attention I desire. He would just greet me and carry his face. His friend told me he's married and I'm like, so what? Does that mean he shouldn't make friends with other ladies? Sincerely, I envy his wife. His attitude made me believe that there are still married men who are still faithful to their wives." The lady concluded.

I was shocked... Shocked was an understatement. The guy being talked about was my husband. My lawfully wedded husband! I blinked my eyes severally... I continued to listen to their conversation. The other lady making her hair replied,

"I think his wife gives him peace of mind at home. That is one thing that could make the man so focused on his wife... I mean, what other reason would have made him ignore a beautiful lady like you?"

"I agree with you." The hairdresser spoke for the first time since the conversation started.

None of these ladies knew that the man who just drove past was my husband. I couldn't speak. I watched them argue about whether his wife gives him good s3x, good food or peace of mind at home... They were arguing about me and they didn't know!

I questioned myself if truly I gave my husband any of these three things and if I would be sincere with myself, I wouldn't score up to 50% in each because I knew I could nag! If there's an award for nagging, I should get one. I don't make nice delicacies for my husband either and talking about our s3xual life, it has been epileptic since I got pregnant.

"There are still faithful men, sincerely." The hairdresser's voice cut into my thoughts.

"I wish that guy is mine!" The other lady who wasn't making her hair exhaled.

"God forbid!" I said spontaneously.

They all turned their eyes to my direction.

"What's that?" The lady asked.

"Oh no... I just got a message from someone. I didn't know I was so loud." I l¡ed.

I was sweating where I sat. Before I got to the hairdresser's shop, my husband had called me twice but I refused to pick up because I was still ångry. I picked my phone instantly and dialled his number,

"Babe, I did not see you at your usual salon. Where are you making your hair? I've been calling you, but you didn't pick up." My husband asked as soon as he picked my call.

I gave him the description of the salon where I was.

"Okay. I'm coming there right away." He replied.

In less than three minutes, my husband arrived. He parked his car and entered the salon. The lady who was crushing on my husband was excited to see him.

"The guy is coming here!" She whispered excitedly.

I watched as she set her seductive eyes on my husband. As he opened the transparent glass door, I walked up to him and he gave me a hug. The ladies were shocked, likewise the hairdresser. They could not look at me in the eye. The fumbled with their phones as my husband planted a kiss on my forehead.

There was a perfect silence as my husband and I chatted on.

Soon, the lady got through with her hair and they left the salon shamefully... My husband was the only one that didn't know what was happening.

"Madam, which hairstyle are you making?" The hairdresser asked me, trying to use a fake smile to cover up what just happened.

"I'm okay with a simple cornrows style, please." I replied.

In less than an hour, I was done. I paid the hairdresser and I asked my husband to take me to the neighbourhood market. I added some money to the balance from the money my husband gave me for the hair and I got some pepper soup ingredients with goat meat.

We went back home and I made a nice delicacy for my husband who was surprised at my sudden change of action. He had earlier come to the salon to keep my company and appease my ånger. He was marvelled to see me loving up on him and making him some pepper soup.

In the night, I gave him the best bedroom treat he hadn't accessed from me in a long time. He was so happy that he bought me a fashionable bag and a pair of shoes the following day.

"Where did you get the money to buy these?" I asked him happily.

"I don't mind taking more soft loans at work to make you happy. Last night was a memorable one!" He smiled brightly as I tried the shoes on.

Since that day, I never took my husband for granted again. I stopped nagging around the house and I was contented with whatever amount he gave me to cook or do other things.

I don learn my lesson, biko. The husband I felt was not doing enough was another person's prayer point. 😦😮

He is the perfect man I ever wanted from God. He is my imperfect perfection. 🥰🥰

I hope you learnt something from my story. Value what you have, some don't have it.

28/06/2025

My father never believed I could amount to anything. Not because I was lazy or stubborn. But because I wasn’t Clement.

Clement; my elder brother was the first son, the pride of the family. He had the brain of ten boys. The kind of child that neighbors used as an example when scolding theirs.

When he passed WAEC with flying colors, we celebrated like it was a wedding.

Papa sold one of his plots of land to send Clement to a private university. He even borrowed money from our church.

I was in SS2 then. I told Papa I wanted to learn tailoring after school.

He waved me off. “Tailor? That’s not a future. Face your books or forget it.”

I faced my books, but not much changed. I was average. Not brilliant, I was just… there.

When Clement came home on holidays, Papa would kill two chickens. Something he never did for any of us.

One day I overheard Papa telling a visitor,

“Clement will become a big man. That other one? Let’s just say he’s still looking for himself.”

That “other one” was me.

Then Clement graduated.

The night we threw a party for him, Papa cried tears of Joy while holding a bottle of malt. He said,

“My joy is full today! My investment is about to yield!”

We all believed it too.

Until things started changing.

Clement stayed longer in his room. He stopped going out. We found him one night behind the house… sniffing something from a nylon bag, eyes red like fire.

That was the day Papa collapsed.

Turns out, Clement had been taking dru*gs since his third year in school. He never told anyone. The pressure to bring the whole family out of poverty was k!11!ng him inside.

Soon, things began to go missing around the house. Papa’s wristwatch. Mama’s gold earring. Even the ceiling fan from the parlour. Obviously, Clement needed money for his Dr*ugs

The golden boy was falling and fast.

He went in and out of rehab for two years. And when he wasn’t there, he was stealing, or lying.

But me?

I had quietly found my path.

When I left secondary school, I begged Mama to talk to Uncle Rasheed, the tailor on our street. I started learning the trade.

While Clement was still battling himself, I got my first shop.

Then I bought my first industrial machine.

Mama would sometimes cry while helping me iron customers’ clothes. “God sees everything, Tope,” she’d whisper. “Keep going.”

Then came the turning point.

Papa had a stroke.

There was no one to run to.

Clement was in rehab again.

Ebun, our last born, was still in school.

So I stepped in.

I paid for the hospital bills. Paid for his drugs. Paid for the physiotherapist that came every evening.

It was my tailoring business that carried the weight Papa thought only Clement could bear.

One afternoon, I returned home in a car I recently bought.

Not to show off, I was just delivering clothes.

Papa was on the veranda, thin and tired. He looked at me for a long time, then said,

“Tope… I was wrong.”

That was all. No long speech. Just three words I’d waited years to hear.

And that night, for the first time ever, he prayed for me.

"Not every star shines the loudest."
"Some glow quietly, in dark corners—waiting to be noticed." "My father chose Clement, but life chose me." "And in the end, it wasn’t brilliance that saved my family… it was consistency."

Don’t write off any child. Not every seed grows at the same time, but each one deserves water, light, and love.

THE END

05/04/2025

Ọrọ Iṣiti: Gbe Oriyin
Fun Ara Re.
No matter where you
are in life, celebrate it. It's
either a product of your
growth or a
place that will
help you to grow.
Cheers to today.

04/04/2025

Watch, comments, like,share and invite others to follow.
E Get Why. Happy birthday to me in advance.
I Do Not Have Copyright To This Music.

13/01/2025

Christmas is a time we share love. It is the season of love and merriment. We show love to the less privileged through ANIKE ARIKE FOUNDATION. God bless our supporters. ❤️ ❤️

Christmas is a time we share love. It is the season of love and merriment.  Let's show some love to those who are less p...
18/12/2024

Christmas is a time we share love. It is the season of love and merriment. Let's show some love to those who are less privileged. Your little donations and support will put smiles on someone face.

Compliments Of The Season To All Our Wonderful And Amazing Family, Friends & Loved Ones. It's That Time Of The Year That...
11/12/2024

Compliments Of The Season To All Our Wonderful And Amazing Family, Friends & Loved Ones. It's That Time Of The Year That We Reach Out To The Less Privileged Ones Through My FOUNDATION
ANIKE ARIKE FOUNDATION.
Please Support Us Like You Normally Do By Donating A Token To The FOUNDATION.
We Love You All & God Bless You.

Merry Christmas And Happy New Year In Advance.

There’s always happiness in giving!
10/12/2024

There’s always happiness in giving!

02/08/2024

God bless the givers.

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