Like Going to War
“Oyegoke’s death is not just that of a poor 45-year-old man who left behind a family that may now face hard times but it points to journalism as a dangerous work that is akin to going to war everyday.”
Idowu Oyegoke was (it really hurts to refer to him in the yesterday tense) quite in every sense except at those times when he was on assignment and he had his camera with him. Then he was manic. Once in his nearly 20 years in journalism, Mr. Oyegoke was beaten up in the course of his work as a photographer for Daily Times when he had his camera and arm broken. He told the story himself during an argument between him and editor of Daily Times. The editor was told that his house had been burglarized. Thinking that the tragedy which struck him was also a good news story, the editor ran up to the Photographic Department for a cameraman to record the arrest of the burglars who were said to have been caught.
Oyegoke was one of the photographers in the room that day and he couldn’t quite understand the high tone of the editor who was asking the earth to move just because he wanted pictures of a bunch of burglars taken. Looking at the editor straight in the eye, Oyegoke said the trouble with editors was that they couldn’t understand that the camera belonged to the photographer and that photographers generally just didn’t like people yelling at them. All the time he was speaking, Mr. Oyegoke was getting films and preparing his camera for what he knew was an assignment that needed to be covered. It was during the ride to the scene of the burglary that Oyegoke told the story of how he had his camera and arm broken in day’s work. And when death came inevitably to Idowu Oyegoke, it was in a day’s work.
Oyegoke had been assigned to cover the tour of Governor Lateef Jakande of Lagos State to Agbowa-Ikosi. Death is the only fate that man cannot avert, otherwise, Oyegoke and Yinka Oke, another journalist who was with the Punch group, would still be alive today. As initially planned, Oyegoke was to travel in one of the cars in the governor’s convoy. But for some inexplicable reasons, Oyegoke travelled in his Volkswagen car while Yinka took along his Peugeot car. Coming back, Oke decided to driver with Oyegoke in the latter’s car while Oke’s car was driven by his driver. As the cruel fate would have it, one of the rear tyres on Oyegoke’s car burst on the expressway. He fixed it, but meanwhile, the governor’s entourage had passed the two journalists. Again, just before reaching Ikorodu, another tyre on the fateful Volkswagen burst. This time, it was one of the two front tyres. The explosion, according to an eye witness account, cause the Volkswagen to swerve to the left lane and run into a Peugeot car coming from the opposite direction. The accident killed Yinka Oke of the Punch on the spot. Idowu Oyegoke was seriously injured and was rushed to the Igbobi Orthopaedic Hospital. Oyegoke was even conscious and strong enough to write his name down and send a message to his wife and four children. But he died later, shortly before Gov. Jkande’s message to the authorities at Igbobi reached the hospital imploring them to find the magic wand to save Idowu Oyegoke’s life. His death is not just that of a poor 45-year-old man who left behind a family that may now face hard times. Oyegoke’s death and that of Yinka Oke points to journalism as a precarious – if you will – dangerous work that is akin to going to war every day.
Every true journalist who is faithful to his calling sees its value not in terms of the poor salary he earns but as a high numinous something that sets him, the journalist, apart from his fellow human beings. Be it the reporter of the print or the cameraman of the picture, or the correspondent of the electronic media, the journalist loves his work and believes in the sacredness of the calling. The names of Idowu Oyegoke and Yinka Oke and that of many a journalist who gets hit in a day’s work should be etched in gold. Idowu and Yinka, may you find peace and may God console your families.
©Daily Times, November 7, 1979
(Pp.38-39)
Died on Active Service
Bill Stewart was an American television reporter. Was, because he was murdered in cold blood by a soldier of Somoza’s Nicaraguan National Guard. Mr. Stewart was in Nicaragua to cover the deteriorating civil in the tiny South American country. He went to one of the ghettoes of Managua, the capital of Nicaragua, to get the picture of what the poor residents of the neighbourhood thought about the war had turned their impoverished nation upside down and maimed and killed their relatives and friends. Close to his destination, a soldier stopped him. Stewart, according to reports of the incident, obeyed, raised his hands, one of which held a white handkerchief. The soldier then asked him to lie face down. Stewart obeyed. The soldier then kicked him on the side, stepped back a couple to steps, aimed his automatic rifle at Stewart’s temple and shot him once. Stewart died immediately.
Every journalist, be it in Akure or somewhere in the Soviet Union, should feel concerned at the wanton killing of any journalist anywhere in the world. All journalists are living the same kind of danger in their efforts to get news for millions all over the world who look up to them for information on what is happening in the four corners of the globe. A Nigerian journalists may go to Lebanon to cover the activities of the Nigerian contingent with the United Nations Peace-Keeping Force. A mad man like the Nicaraguan soldier may then stop and kill him senseless. How precarious, this business of journalist!
©Daily Times, July 4, 1979
(Page 40)
