As Mustapha Kunle Ogunsakin, publisher of Gavel International, marks his 60th birthday, I celebrate not just the passage of time, but the quality of life lived. Sixty years marked by learning, friendship, integrity, creativity, and quiet excellence… Kunle is proof that brilliance does not need volume, that humility can coexist with intellectual authority, and that consistency often outlives flamboyance
…he is the true son of his father—both in appearance and in business acumen—is unmistakable. Kunle is ebony black. Apart from the prosperous back of his neck, which we all secretly aspire to develop, he walks with confident, measured steps. He carries a commanding presence, his chest built like a barn door—you would not dare challenge him to a duel. Yet, despite this formidable exterior, Kunle is a true gentleman who cannot say boo to a goose
FRIENDSHIP, I have come to realise, is sometimes less about constant proximity and more about destiny’s quiet insistence that certain lives must keep intersecting. No matter how far apart time, geography, or circumstance may pull us, true friendship has a way of circling back, stronger, wiser, and more meaningful each time. This is the story of my friendship with Mustapha Kunle Ogunsakin, a man whose life has consistently mirrored intellectual depth, humility, resourcefulness, and a rare ability to stay true to his plans despite challenges and distractions.
Kunle turns 60 today, 24 January 2026, and this tribute is my personal reflection on a journey we have shared, sometimes closely, sometimes from afar, but always in ways that reaffirmed the power of character and constancy.
The Early Years: Where It All Began
Our story began in 1969, when we both enrolled at Nawair-Ud-Deen Primary School, Ado-Ekiti. Those were formative years, not only academically but socially. Looking back, one of the most profound lessons from that period was how public schools in Nigeria served as great levellers, melting pots where children from different social, economic, and cultural backgrounds met on equal footing.
Kunle stood out even then. His background was clearly more privileged than most of ours. His father, the late Alhaji B.S Ogunsakin, would often send a driver to convey him to and from school. Yet, rather than relish this advantage, Kunle resented it. He wanted to trek home with the rest of us, to share in the dusty roads, the laughter, the informal debates, and the camaraderie that followed the school bell. That simple but telling desire revealed a core aspect of his character: humility and a deep longing for shared human experience, not artificial separation.
Even at that tender age, Kunle was already quietly rejecting social barriers.
Diverging Paths, Returning Destinies
After leaving primary school in 1975, our paths diverged. I went on to St. Mary’s Secondary Modern School, Ado-Ekiti, where I spent two years before proceeding to Ola Oluwa Grammar School for Form One in 1977/78. Fate, however, had not finished with its pattern-making. Our paths crossed again at Ola Oluwa Grammar School, reaffirming what would become a recurring theme in our lives: separation followed by meaningful reunion.
While my own journey later took me to Akure, Ondo State, where I worked in a private company for six years, Kunle’s academic progression was remarkably smooth, as effortless as a hot knife slicing through butter. With focus and discipline, he made a beeline for Ondo State University (now Ekiti State University).
A Defining Reunion at the University
By the time our paths crossed again at the university in 1988, the contrast in our academic positions was striking. Kunle was already in Part Four, while I had just gained admission into Part One, a fresh “JAMBite,” still wet behind the ears.
That he is the true son of his father—both in appearance and in business acumen—is unmistakable. Kunle is ebony black. Apart from the prosperous back of his neck, which we all secretly aspire to develop, he walks with confident, measured steps. He carries a commanding presence, his chest built like a barn door—you would not dare challenge him to a duel. Yet, despite this formidable exterior, Kunle is a true gentleman who cannot say boo to a goose.
We both resided at Osekita Hostel, Iworoko, Ekiti State, and it was during this period that I truly encountered the depth of Kunle’s intellect. Despite being far ahead academically, he never wore the arrogance that often accompanies seniority in Nigerian universities. There was no condescension, no dismissal—only generosity of mind.
One encounter remains etched in my memory.
I mentioned to him one of the prescribed texts we were to read: Sizwe Bansi Is Dead, a play by Athol Fugard, John Kani, and Winston Ntshona, all South Africans. What followed left me stunned.
Kunle sat with me and, without holding a single sheet of paper, proceeded to explain the Acts, scenes, characters, the entire plot, and the theme with clarity and precision.
Plot Summary: Sizwe Bansi Is Dead
The play is set in apartheid-era South Africa and tells the story of Sizwe Bansi, a Black South African man who migrates to Port Elizabeth in search of work. Under apartheid’s oppressive pass laws, Black citizens were required to carry identity documents that determined where they could live and work.
Sizwe’s troubles begin when he realises that his passbook does not permit him to stay or work in the city. Without the proper authorization, he faces arrest, deportation, or worse. Through a series of events, he meets Styles, a photographer who runs a modest studio and represents resilience and adaptability within an unjust system.
Later, Sizwe encounters Buntu, a politically conscious friend who helps him navigate the brutal realities of apartheid bureaucracy. When they discover the corpse of a man named Robert Zwelinzima, who possessed a valid work permit, Buntu proposes a morally complex solution: Sizwe should assume the dead man’s identity to survive.
Faced with the choice between legal identity and physical survival, Sizwe agrees. Symbolically, Sizwe Bansi “dies”, and Robert Zwelinzima is “reborn.” The play explores themes of identity, dehumanisation, survival, and resistance, asking whether a system that erases one’s humanity leaves any room for moral purity.
Kunle explained all this effortlessly, with insight that went beyond plot into meaning. I was awestruck.
A Mentor Without Pretence
Beyond academics, Kunle offered practical wisdom. He advised me on how to navigate campus life, the electives to choose, even beyond the Faculty of Arts, particularly in the Social Sciences. His words were prophetic: “These will help you in the future.”
Kunle added: “You will enjoy three lecturers here: Hope Eghagha (now a Professor at the University of Lagos), Professor Olu Olagoke and Dr Lozambe from the then Zaire (now Democratic Republic of Congo.” While I stuck to the first two, clinging to their words their way novices would to the teachings of their monks, Lozambe had travelled outside Nigeria by the time we were in Part Three.
Kunle wasn’t just sharing information; he was investing in another person’s growth. That, to me, is the mark of true intellect—knowledge that seeks to uplift others rather than dominate them.
Another Reunion, This Time in Journalism
After Kunle’s graduation, we lost contact again, as life often dictates. Years passed. Then, in August 1994, destiny resumed its familiar choreography.
We met again at the Ajao Estate headquarters of TheNEWS magazine.
That reunion marked the beginning of an enduring closeness that has remained unbroken ever since. By then, Kunle had evolved, but the core qualities remained intact: intellectual depth, humility, clarity of purpose, and remarkable resourcefulness.
Whether in conversations, professional engagements, or quiet reflections, Kunle consistently demonstrated (and still does) an ability to stick to plans, even when confronted by distractions or adversity. He is not a man easily swayed by noise or fashion. He thinks deeply, acts deliberately, and speaks with measured wisdom.
As Mustapha Kunle Ogunsakin, publisher of Gavel International, marks his 60th birthday, I celebrate not just the passage of time, but the quality of life lived. Sixty years marked by learning, friendship, integrity, creativity, and quiet excellence.
Kunle is proof that brilliance does not need volume, that humility can coexist with intellectual authority, and that consistency often outlives flamboyance.
I wish him many more fruitful years—years of good health, prosperity, and sustained creativity. May his mind remain sharp, his spirit restless in the best way, and his words continue to illuminate.
And above all, may his keyboard never go stiff.
Happy 60th birthday, my friend. Our paths crossed for a reason—and I am grateful they continue to do so, always in positive ways.
- Ademola Adegbamigbe is the Editor of TheNEWS magazine. He holds a Bachelor’s degree in English and Literary Studies from Ondo State University and a Master’s degree in Public and International Affairs from the University of Lagos
- https://web.facebook.com/adegbamigbe.ademola