It’s hard to fill Gani’s vacuum –Mohammed Fawehinmi

Mohammed Fawehinmi is the first son of Nigeria’s foremost anti-corruption crusader, the late Chief Gani Fawehinmi. In this interview with CHUX OHAI, he talks about life as a youth and the closure of his father’s law chambers

How does it feel to be the son of the late Gani Fawehinmi?

It is the greatest privilege I have had in my life. It has earned me a lot of respect from other people and enabled me to view life from a multi-dimensional perspective. Now I appreciate life in a different way, not just from a comfortable position. I am beginning to appreciate my father’s position as a social critic, as well as some of the issues that he had to speak out against when he was alive. I am totally in agreement with everything he said and criticised about Nigeria and its leadership, as well as its socio-economic and political situation.

What do you remember most about your dad?

I won’t forget his vision and enterprise, as well as his ability to steer me in the best direction possible. Although I shouldn’t be saying this at my age, there is no day that passes that I do not feel his absence. His departure was painful, but God knows best. By the Grace of God, those who contributed to his death, people like Ibrahim Babangida, will not go scot-free. If money could buy good health, my dad would still be alive. He spent a lot of money treating his ailment and he was careful. Sadly, a lot of damage had already been done to his health. He affected my life positively to a large extent. In fact, I thank God that everything he taught me is being put into good use today. I miss his guidance and I miss him as my boss. He was an exemplary boss, a disciplinarian, and a very hardworking man who abhorred laziness and hated lazy people. He liked people to be ingenious. He would push you hard enough to bring out the genius in you. That is one thing I miss so much about him.

Your siblings are also lawyers like yourself. Don’t you sometimes feel challenged by this fact?

For now, there are four lawyers in the family. Two others are in the making. All my siblings have excelled in their chosen disciplines. Yes, the challenge will definitely come because they, too, have Gani Fawehinmi’s blood running in their veins. I have been following their progress and I must say that I am quite impressed.

But it seems that none of the children of the late Chief Fawehinmi has shown any real inclination towards filling the vacuum that his exit has created.

I have been trying my best to fulfil such expectation. But, you see, it is difficult filling the vacuum left behind by my dad. His activism was all-encompassing. It is difficult reproducing everything he has done. You can only try a little. My condition may not permit me to strive as much as my dad did. But, right from the age of 10 years, I have always been interested in politics. My father had always been concerned about the people in government and how they rule this country. He had always wanted the government to do well and he often resorted to corrective litigation to prove his point. He was committed to changing the face of the legal profession in Nigeria. My interests are divergent and I want things to be done very fast in Nigeria.

How was growing up?

Growing up under Chief (Gani) Fawehinmi was a wonderful experience. I received the best teaching and supervision that any youth could get. I was well provided for by my parents. But I was not pampered. I was made to taste the easy and tough sides of life. As a matter of fact, I was made to handle some responsibilities at a tender age. When I was four years old, my dad would take me to the court and make me sit down and watch the proceedings. Most of the time, he would take me to the Igbosere High Court. At the time, Justice Candide Johnson was the chief of Lagos State. Also, my dad took me to the Supreme Court when I was nine years old. At the age of 14, I served my first court papers. My dad told his dispatch rider to put me on a motorcycle and take me to the Supreme Court. That was the first time I rode an okada in my life. When I got to there, I went to one man they call Aribaba. He is still serving at the Supreme Court as the chief registrar. Aribaba called my dad on the telephone and told him that he shouldn’t have sent me. But my dad told him to show me how it was done and cut the call. Eventually, I learnt how to do initialling, how to appraise the cost of valuing, how to pay, how to facilitate the bailiffs so that they effect service on time, and more. I learnt all that at a tender age. During the holidays, my dad would ask me to join my mum, who was the first librarian of the Gani Fawehinmi Chambers, to rearrange the library. Then I would help in carrying files and arranging the documents, even the records of the 1979 elections. My dad had always taught my brother and I how to acquire knowledge, how to use it, how to develop our skills for the future, and ensure that we were relevant to the society. He always made examples of other children born with the silver spoon, who had failed to live up to expectation, and warned us not to be like them. He had always wanted to make us shining examples to others. He would tell us to be careful how we expressed ourselves in the public, how we related with other people, and to show respect to everybody we met in life. So, we had prepared our minds for the future, even at that tender age. I grew up with all the things that he taught us embedded in me.

Was he also indirectly grooming you for the legal profession, not just for the sake of self-discipline?

I believe so. Why I am saying this is because after I graduated from the University of Lagos, I went to him and he asked me what I wanted to do next. I told him that I might enrol for a master’s programme in business administration or study law. When I mentioned law, he burst into laughter. He laughed for a long time and sent me away. At that point, something just told me that law might be my best bet. So, I went back to him. He said I should come back in three months. When I told my mum about my plan, she burst into laughter, too. She said I had to be sure of what I wanted to do, that if I had decided to become a lawyer I should understand there was no way my dad would permit me to work elsewhere except in his own chambers. I asked her to speak to my dad on my behalf, but she advised me to wait till the end of the three-month deadline that he gave me. At the end of that period, I went to my dad again. He asked me to sit down and went on to lecture me. He said that being a lawyer was a very serious business and I should be prepared to work as hard as he did. I told him that I had made up my mind. So, he sent me to study law at Buckingham University in the United Kingdom. I came back to Nigeria and got qualified alongside my younger sister and I started working in my dad’s chambers. I met other lawyers in the chambers, who were older and more experienced than me. I learnt a lot from them. I worked there until some of these people left and I became my dad’s deputy. When he died, I became the president of the chambers.

At the time you left UNILAG, did you ever see yourself becoming a lawyer?

I had my mind set on banking and social events, not law. But I guess I had a change of mind after I paid a visit to a friend’s office. My friend was a lawyer. One afternoon, during lunch break I walked into his office and met him and his colleagues helping themselves to some pizza and wine. I was surprised and I reminded them that they were still at work. My friend said to me, ‘Not all lawyers can be like your father. We don’t joke with our lunch breaks here.’ Then he spoke to me about the benefits of being a lawyer. That encounter was what actually ignited my interest in the legal profession. Apart from that, when I watched my dad arguing in court, I was highly impressed with his performance and I imagined myself in his gown doing the same thing. Then I told myself that I might end up like him. That was when it began to occur to me that I would become a lawyer.

So, your father was your role model at that point?

Yes, he was my role model, my boss, mentor and the person who taught me everything I know.

For a while now, the Gani Fawehinmi Chambers has remained shut. What is responsible for this?

It was not intentional. Even I did not expect that it would be so. But page eight, clause 18 of his (the late Fawehinmi) will states that the chambers should literally wind up in two years. I called the trustees, who are the executors of the will, and I called the deputy and some elders of our community and I told them that the clause was more like a test. I told them that I believed we could neglect it and continue to run the chambers because we were doing well at that point and we were recording successes in the cases we handled. I assured them that we could sustain the tempo, even though money might not be coming into the chambers as much as it used to be when my dad was alive. But the trustees and the inner elders opposed my suggestion. Then I concluded that they were being delicate. I went to the justices, who were my dad’s close friends, people like Justice (Morounkeji) Onalaja, to seek an advice on what to do next. Justice Onalaja told me that, painful as it seemed, he thought I should do exactly what my dad wanted. I thought of it deeply, especially since there were five other lawyers in the chambers. I thought of my siblings and these five lawyers and finally concluded that it would be best to obey my dad’s wish. So, from January 16, 2011, Gani Fawehinmi Chambers ceased to exist.

How did your siblings react to the decision to close the chambers?

They agreed that it should be shut down. Since it was willed by my dad, they had no other choice than to accept the decision.

What happens to the library?

The Gani Fawehinmi Library and Gallery, which is in the main library, will be open to the public.

What has been your greatest challenge in life?

My greatest challenge is how to get out of this wheelchair. The accident I had is something that could easily be handled in this country, if the proper facilities were in place and the experts were fully educated about the condition. The naval officer, who removed me from the car during the accident, Mr. Blessing Irabor, did a beautiful job. He laid me quietly on the ground before calling a taxi. But when I got to the National Orthopaedic Hospital in Igbobi, everything shattered. It was at Igbobi that the damage was done. By the time I was taken to England for surgery, it was too late. For now, I have a constant burning sensation in my body and I use a lot of painkillers to reduce the pain.