27/02/2026
Oh, memories.
We created forty years of them — him and I.
We went to Torch Bearers School together.
He was always the patient one. People called him slow when we played soccer, but they didn’t understand. He wasn’t slow — he was steady.
We moved on to Amuwo Odofin High School.
He was always a class ahead of me, even though I was the bigger one. We fought to school and fought back home. On the bus, he would carry me on his lap and people would laugh, saying I should be the one carrying him. But he wouldn’t budge. He knew he was the big brother.
I was always late to school. But no prefect dared touch me — he would fight them with his small body.
We shared the same friends.
We were more than brothers. We were friends. Best friends.
By the time we got into university, he had transformed into something extraordinary — sweeping awards at Lagos State University. I wasn’t an average student either, but Jiggie… he was in a league of his own. From secondary school to university, that leap was almost mythical.
I only recently realized he was over three years older than me. He used his football age — 1985 — all through school. That was so him.
We fought badly growing up. One time it was just us and Grandma at home. She let us fight until we couldn’t lift our arms anymore. We were exhausted… and then we slept. Just like that.
No one in the family was closer than we were.
My ex-girlfriends were Jiggie’s friends too. Many of them called when he passed. That’s how close we were. We played chess, Scrabble — everything together.
We built so many memories
But somehow, even forty years of memories aren’t enough to keep him here.
He didn’t tell me he was leaving.
We spoke for nine minutes. Just nine minutes.
And that was it — forever.
Nothing prepared me for that.
I would have stayed longer. Way longer. Just to hear him talk.
I miss you, brother.
I wish I was there on your deathbed.
I don’t think I’ll ever fully recover from this.
Your absence hurts more than your punches. And you didn’t even know how to punch properly.
You were always the smartest one in the room.
The quiet one.
Few words — but heavy ones.
How do you take that to heaven?
I miss you, Olaoluwa Ayodeji Samson the Brave.
It doesn’t feel like two years. It feels like yesterday.
Tonight the tears won’t stop. Like a little baby. I can’t help it.
You should have stirred me up, even if you weren’t sure.
You don’t just call and then leave like that, man.
I love you too much.
Sleep on, my Tiger.
I pray the Father takes good care of you for me.
Stay brave and courageous.
We all miss you. Your boy won’t stop asking questions 😢
