The story of my father, the late Amb. Emmanuel Oyeleye Obe, was one of success, by any standard. He’d been serving in Senegal, Gambia and Mauritania simultaneously, as Nigerian Ambassador, which necessitated me, my mum and three siblings, living in Dakar Senegal, the biggest country of the three, during that period.
My mum, as an ambassador’s wife, needed not do anything but play the perfect hostess and organise lunch and dinner parties at home for her husband’s associates in diplomatic circles, whilst we the children (aged between 3 and 12years) simply went on with our plush, rich lifestyle, having gotten used to same whilst dad served in Mali, Tokyo, Geneva, Rome, and Washington DC previously.In Senegal, my elder brother, sister and I were chauffeur-driven daily to Dakar Academy, an American school largely attended by the children of English-speaking expatriates, career diplomats and ambassadors. The youngest, Segun who was still 3 at the time, stayed home with mum.
Mum was a strict, no-nonsense disciplinarian and simply would not over-indulge any of us. Dad on the other hand, was the ultimate pushover. With him, we could get away with almost anything. A very accommodating, unassuming and free spirit, my father was always the ‘life of the party’, wherever he went, for his laughter wherever he was, could be heard for miles! He trusted. A little too much, I might add, because he was never suspicious, and thought ill of no-one.
This was why we were able to convince him to take us swimming one Sunday afternoon on June 11, 1978, at L’Hotel Teranga, despite the fact that a pool already existed in our backyard at home. We’d felt that leaving home to go and swim at the Hotel would afford us the opportunity to indulge in the barbecues, ice- cream and whatever else was available.
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