“…Baba ni jingi.”

When someone who met me for the first time on Facebook told me I looked like my father, I was incredulous.

“Nah! I look like my mother,” I promptly typed, echoing what everyone had told me growing up. But as I looked at old photos following his passing, I saw the resemblance. And not just in looks. My father and I shared a kindred spirit; a way of viewing the world. From him, I learnt several lessons which I strive to mirror in my own life.

Life is fun: When we were young, he used to bounce us on his laps trying to unseat us. We’d giggle and jiggle but hold on tight. He’d hail me, “Abiscoco! Abiscoco!” Daddy had a nickname for his favorite people.

See the world: We used to call Daddy, “traveler’s check” in those days because he traveled so much. Sometimes we would go to sleep at night while he was somewhere in the world and wake up in the morning to find him at the head of the table, eating breakfast. Yet, he could be gone again by nightfall. On holidays, we used to traipse around West Africa following him as he attended agricultural conferences. He taught us to explore our world and to appreciate the cultures we encountered.

Stand out: Once while exploring a Togolese market with my fellow wanderer, Adetoun, we got lost. We had dashed off to buy something but when we looked around, we couldn’t find the rest of the family. After going round in circles for a while, we looked up, and there was my dad’s head above the crowds separating us. At 6 feet 4 inches, he was a watchtower. It wasn’t till we reached him that we realized mom stood right next to him. In many ways, Baale stood out as a beacon of hope and friendship.

People matter: My father had such a love of people – his natal family, community, and academic circle, and the world. He spread goodwill wherever he went, coaxing people to rise up to greater heights. Often, he’s bring home this foreign student, that lecturer, the other relative he picked up. He was the original collector of waifs and strays.

Excel: Though he never pressured us to study one subject over the other, he encouraged us to do our best. And when I decided going abroad was in my best interest, my dad paid my fees as he’d done for many others. His constant refrain was “do your best!”

Lead with compassion: As the head of our family, my father was never harsh or cruel. Instead, he led with his heart, urging us forward in all our endeavors. Even when we transgressed, he was strong but not merciless. He raised me with a tremendous feeling of self-worth.

Manage your money well: A consummate economist, my father diligently followed principles of wealth accumulation. Save, invest, share with those in need, and never be profligate. He invested so prodigiously that he was able to live well in his retirement without looking to us children.

Spread cheer: I remember when I had to repeat form three, I was most miserable and also miserable to be around. Dad called me, concerned, “You always wear a frown on your face; would you let us know when you are happy?” His ‘Oyo’ tongue in cheek speech, made me laugh. Even when he was chiding, it was funny.

Live in integrity: above all, my father taught me to live honestly, simply, and with integrity. He was bold enough to tell the truth and to live with the truth he told. While many considered him blunt, he could not be numbered among backbiters or sycophants. Despite having “only girls,” Dad did not father boys outside of his marriage. Instead, he gave his daughters his best. At his funeral, the priest remarked that he couldn’t have had a more befitting funeral had he ten sons.

Thanks, Dad, you live on.

(This was originally printed in the booklet of tributes to my father, Prof. Rufus Oladokun Adegboye who rested on April 5, 2013).