Obe Ess was a master of his craft. He knew and respected the imperative of deadlines in the newspaper business. His cartoons were high art, the product of a thinking and inventive mind fully conscious of the quality audience that patronised the paper
OBE Ess showed me a different side of his persona. That side of him was the open, funny, chatty, and engaging conversationalist, ready to exchange ideas, to learn, and to share knowledge. Once we were comfortable with each other, we discussed a whole range of issues, including family and more.
The passcode to that persona was a common passion he and I shared, regarding premium vehicle maintenance. In the early 1990s, when the Nigerian middle class struggled to overcome the lashing effects of the Structural Adjustment Programme, Tokunboh cars were the recourse, rather than any mint ride driven out of the showroom. I bought a sky blue Nissan Laurel, and Obe Ess expressed admiration for the car. Later, he acquired his own car, royal blue in colour.
Year after year, season after season, Obe Ess’s car was sparkling, often neatly parked on the premises at Rutam House. If Obe Ess revved up his engine, it was noiseless. Whenever I teased him whether he ever rode the car, his retort was that he was also wondering if I ever moved mine. Obe Ess and I would discuss and later purchase what we learnt were the best accessories in the market. I was a fan of Pirelli tyres. Obe Ess discovered a top quality battery at the time, and he immediately convinced me to buy one. I got the battery —TRANE — which I used for many years.
We were passionate about timely servicing of our cars, as a guarantee to the extended longevity of the Tokunboh variety; any scratches on the bodywork we considered eyesores and got them rectified immediately. When I discovered that a certain trader (Sylvester) at Oshodi market sold genuine NGK plugs, I bought some packets. I informed Obe Ess, and he too went to the shop and made his purchases. Every round of servicing was with a new set of plugs.
Some years ago, Obe Ess had a near-death experience, when armed robbers invaded his residence in Lagos. When he narrated the encounter to me later, it was with a mixture of mirth and drama and thanksgiving. He said after the gangsters broke into his apartment and made to roughen him up, he held one of them whose upraised deadly assault weapon suddenly discharged. A bullet from the gun hit the decking and ricocheted to pierce one of the robbers who collapsed and died. The other accomplices took to their heels. Obe Ess relocated from the neighbourhood.
Obe Ess was a master of his craft. He knew and respected the imperative of deadlines in the newspaper business. His cartoons were high art, the product of a thinking and inventive mind fully conscious of the quality audience that patronised the paper. Obe Ess was an enlightened and brilliant commentator on contemporary issues using the strokes of his pencil.
The shock of learning of Obe Ess’s death has been immense. Still, I pray that the Almighty will grant him eternal rest, and comfort the larger Obe family on the transition of their glorious son.
- Osadolor, Esq, is a former Editor at The Guardian.
