By Gbenga Omotoso
It was a sunny day. Bright and warm; a day good for outdoor activities.
From an event in Alimoso, which is often touted as Nigeria’s largest local government, we rushed down to Obafemi Awolowo Way in Ikeja, where another event was underway – the opening of a block of beautiful offices.
Speeches over, it was time to inspect the building – a befitting testimony to the power of creative financing and good architecture. We moved from the expansive car park to the main door of the four-storey building. We got set to go upstairs, using the brand-new, glittering elevator.
I’m always wary of using elevators since I got stuck in one in the United States. I had seen technicians working on it and was satisfied that all was well with it, but less than one minute after we moved, it went quiet and remained so for a few minutes before it jerked back to life, and we moved on. What a relief!
“Don’t worry; this one is new and, of course, it has been well tested,” said the former Special Adviser on Works and Infrastructure, Mrs. Aramide Adeyoye, a frontline engineer with an incredible passion for her job. I believed her.
Chief of Staff Tayo Ayinde, Mrs. Adeyoye and I went into the elevator. We were joined by a gentleman whose identity I really didn’t know. The door closed. Then, the unexpected (?) happened. The elevator would not move. We were stuck.
“This is what I was saying. I don’t like elevators,” I grumbled. In no time, I started to sweat. “Calm down. Just calm down,” the Chief said in a cool and confident voice that betrayed no emotion. “It will work; no need to panic,” he added. Mrs Adeyoye joined in the confidence-boosting pep talk. I kept quiet. Within me a volcanic feeling was building up.
I wished the people watching us, who obviously knew we were in trouble, could do something. They seemed helpless after pressing the buttons for some time. They – the next batch of guests waiting to go in – actually sensed that something was wrong. Through the transparent door of the elevator, they saw us fiddling with the machine’s buttons and they raised the alarm. An official came and wondered why they had not gone up. They told him of our predicament. He moved to the machine and pressed the button. The door opened and we came out, sweating – and sober. Needless to say, we made the trip upstairs by foot.
Interestingly, that five-minute experience says a lot about Mr. Tayo Akinmade Ayinde. He is calm – and confident – in the face of gripping anxiety and confusion.
To some, he is simply Tayo. Others, especially his friends in politics, call him Buffalo – they say he shares some qualities of that animal (a rare physical strength and survival instinct in a jungle filled up with many dangerous creatures). Those in government circles call him “Chief” – a short form of the title of his office, Chief of Staff.
From being Chief Detail to then Governor Bola Ahmed Tinubu (1999 – 2007), now President and Commander-in- Chief of the Armed Forces of Nigeria and Chief of Staff to Governor Babajide Olusola Sanwo-Olu, Ayinde has remained relevant in political and government circles. He has proven to be an experienced marathoner, who is always at home with politicians, even as he is comfortable in the company of technocrats and ordinary folks, who excitedly scream, “Buffalo! Buffalo!” when they see him.
Slim, fit and tall, Mr. Ayinde is easy to spot in a crowd. He is friendly, fair and firm. A visitor will always be sure of a face wreathed in smiles after leaving the Chief’s office. Little wonder the place is always filled up with those who come to seek his favour.
Chief hardly gets angry. He rarely shouts and keeps no malice. He would always throw open any matter of discontent and tell you to your face, “I’m not happy with you”. If you’re convinced that you’re wrong and you apologise, that ends the matter.