- YUSUF, NEWSWATCH Co-Founder, YAKUBU MOHAMMED’s Son
A few weeks ago, the premises of the Nigerian Institute of International Affairs (NIIA), Victoria Island, came alive as reputable columnists, media icons, academics, and students gathered for the public presentation of “Beyond Expectations”, a memoir written by renowned journalist and media entrepreneur, Yakubu Mohammed.
Mohammed, one of the co-founders of Newswatch magazine, was celebrated for his remarkable contributions to journalism during Nigeria’s golden era of media practice.
Asides the distinguished guests who paid glowing tributes at the occasion, Yusuf Mohammed, publisher son of the man of the moment and publisher of The Columnist NG and two of his siblings also spoke about their father. While delivering his speech, Yusuf reflected on how deeply his father’s values and discipline shaped his path as a journalist.
In a chat with City People reporter, JAMIU ABUBAKAR, Yusuf opened up more about his father’s personality, principles, and the lessons that continue to guide his life and career. Below are excerpts:
Growing up with a father as accomplished as Yakubu Mohammed must have been quite an experience. What are some things people don’t know about him outside of journalism and public life?
There’s not much difference between his public and private life. My father is consistent in his values—he believes in doing things the proper way. For instance, on our way to his book presentation, one of the drivers in our convoy had an expired license and suggested he could drive in the middle since no officer would stop him. My father refused. He immediately found someone else with a valid license. Like a friend once said, my father is a “proper man.”
He’s a lover of movies and football, especially tournaments like AFCON, the World Cup, and the Euros. When he was younger, he enjoyed playing table tennis. I remember him waking everyone up in the middle of the night to watch the Mike Tyson vs. Lennox Lewis fight—unfortunately, Tyson lost that day!
He’s also a devout Muslim who never misses his five daily prayers. Yet, he never imposes religion on others. He raised the son of one of his late friends—a Christian—in our home for about 18 years. Every morning, my father would wake us Muslims for prayer and leave the boy to sleep. On Sundays, he would pick up his Bible and go to church from our house. To this day, that man remains a Christian. That’s how tolerant and open-minded my father is.
Your father is known for his discipline and commitment to truth in journalism. How did those values influence your own approach to life and work?
When you grow up around someone like him, you unconsciously absorb those values. I’m particular about doing what’s right, not what’s popular. I insist on logic over emotion, though I’ve learned over time that sometimes, people’s emotions must be accommodated.
Some have accused me of being “too logical,” but I’m learning that not all truths need to be spoken aloud—some are better left unsaid. Brutal honesty can backfire, especially in an environment not ready for it. Still, people appreciate that I’m straightforward. My late boss, Prince Emeka Obasi, publisher of Business Hallmark, used to call me for my honest opinions on politics, sports, religion, and international affairs—sometimes even putting me on speaker with his guests. He trusted my judgment and candor.
Interestingly, Nigerians in the diaspora—especially in the U.S., U.K., and Canada—often tell me to go into real estate because they believe I’m trustworthy enough not to cheat them or anyone they refer to me. That shows how far honesty can take you.
Can you recall a specific lesson or piece of advice your father gave you that still guides your decisions today?
Yes. He once told me, “No matter how tall you are, you can’t reach the mountains; and no matter how proudly you walk, you can’t make holes in the ground.” It’s an adage about humility, and I live by it.
He also advised us never to go where we aren’t invited, no matter who the person is or what the occasion may be. And he always reminded us to greet people before they greet us—a simple act of courtesy that goes a long way, even though not everyone understands it in today’s world.
Many know Yakubu Mohammed as a respected columnist and administrator — but what is he like at home, as a dad?
He’s incredibly humble. I’ve never heard him insult anyone—not even domestic staff. The harshest thing he says is, “My friend, are you alright?”
He’s also been accused of raising us with “kid gloves” because he doesn’t believe in flogging. He always said his father never flogged him. And truly, none of us turned out wayward or irresponsible. We may differ in personality, but none of us would ever be accused of dishonesty or crime.
As adults, we’ve become more conscious of his name and legacy. Growing up, we didn’t think much about it, but now we understand that we have a name to protect.
Were there moments when his demanding career ever clashed with family life, and how did he balance both?
He made a conscious effort to balance both. In the mid-90s, he deliberately put his social life on hold to spend more time with family. It wasn’t easy, but he managed it well. Looking back, I’d say he succeeded in creating that balance.
Your father’s memoir, Beyond Expectations, chronicles his professional journey. If you were to write a chapter from your perspective, what would you title it and why?
I’d title it “Unintentional Footsteps.” That’s because, without consciously trying to follow in his path, I found myself drawn into journalism—the same world that shaped him.
As a kid, I hated school so much that I repeated Nursery One! My father even told my mum to follow me to school to find out why I always resisted. I learned to read late—around Primary Two—but when I finally did, it was like magic. My cousin, Tahir Abdullahi, taught me patiently, and once I grasped reading, I became obsessed with newspapers and magazines in my dad’s library—especially TIME and Newsweek.
That’s how my love for history and storytelling began. I attended FAAN Staff School, Ikeja, for my primary education, and Federal Government College (FGC) Ijanikin, Lagos, for secondary school. Later, I studied History and International Relations at Al-Hikmah University, Ilorin.
Interestingly, I never studied Mass Communication, yet here I am—11 years into journalism. Even though no one predicted it, those early interests paved the way.
What qualities or habits have you inherited from him—whether consciously or unconsciously—that show up in your daily life?
Several. One is not looking down on anyone. I could take a photo with Aliko Dangote in the afternoon and share jokes with a gateman in the evening.
Another is keeping my word. If I make a promise, I do everything to fulfill it—and if I can’t, I’ll be upfront about it.
Also, like him, I can’t stand reckless driving. I constantly caution drivers to slow down. When I used to travel frequently from Lagos to Ilorin, I’d even give bus drivers extra money or refreshments just to encourage safer driving. Some people call that “positive bribery.” (Laughs)
Now that the world is celebrating his achievements, what would you say is the most misunderstood or overlooked part of who Yakubu Mohammed truly is?
Many people don’t realize how much he values merit and integrity over self-promotion. He’s never been one to lobby for positions. When President Obasanjo appointed him as Pro-Chancellor of Ahmadu Bello University in 2005, he didn’t lobby for it—he got the call right at home in Lagos. The same happened when President Goodluck Jonathan appointed him as Pro-Chancellor of Federal University, Birnin-Kebbi.
Some people interpret his quietness as being laid-back or disinterested, but it’s simply who he is. He believes that if you’ve worked hard and built a good name, opportunities will find you. He belongs to a generation where integrity and competence truly mattered.
Sadly, times have changed. These days, people chase publicity relentlessly—good, bad, or ugly. For my father, separating the wheat from the chaff in today’s world is almost as difficult as getting a camel through the eye of a needle.
