•By TONY OKEREGBE
In those days, The Guardian newsroom seemed to me like a secret service department with an academy. It oozed the potent air of hierarchy and efficiency that tests the wit of bookworms and aspiring writers. Of the several characters who made you feel that journalism transcended the library and study, one was Jahman Anikulapo. Although both name and surname created a cultic air around the bearer, he was eccentric and unassuming at the same time. He was scarcely audible, yet his presence filled the newsroom as he repeatedly ambled, red biro in one hand and dummy pages with scripts on the other, from the Arts Desk to the Production section from evening until night. For an editor, his sartorial sense was scandalous. While others in his position made a statement of their status by adorning suits and designers shoes, Jahman blended in the crowd. Draped in African prints and Oanshikis of various styles on simple sandals, Jahman sent a message not only of his incurable fixation on cultural activism, but also of his simplicity. If you misconstrue that simplicity for laxity and carelessness wait until you work with him. Jahman was somewhat married to work, and carried on as if every production day was his last. On his feet, he could conjure story ideas, rigorously prime the ideas with his team and think out sources. With his phone on speaker gathering sources and hands punching the keyboard of the computer, Jahman would script his story, edit the copies, source for photographs, and head for the Pagemaker himself to
produce his pages. Painstaking, rigorous and meticulous, Jahman could do anything he asked you to do. He’s a one-man publishing powerhouse. To temper the monotony and tedium of newsroom drudgery, he uplifted the spirit with uncanny inducements. On a hectic typical weekend production, he would whisper: /I To ny, mo ni champagne ati epa [‘office 0./1 (Tony, I have champagne and groundnut in the office). Spirits would mix with spirit, energy would flow and intellects would run wild. Then, a simple comment from a working copy would lead to debates that would invoke Kafka, Edward Said, Foucault, Lyotard, Schopenhauer, and other dead men which Ivy League brainies like Mufkay would callout. At the speed of light, production would end seamlessly. With smiles on our faces we earned a night’s repose, but not for Jahman. Another assignment beckoned on him as a confraternity of night crawlers awaited him at Abe Igi. To me, three beautiful lessons for successful leadership stand out about Jahman. First, is his telegenic simplicity that drags one unto himself Another is his non-intrusive leadership by example: a benevolent workaholic who primes you to reveal your best; and lastly, his bohemian way of motivating his team in a ‘spiritual’ manner. Happy 60th anniversary to Jahman, this simple man with combustive energy for work and rigour, and a big heart for life, play, fun and love.
–Tony Okeregbe, PhD, University of Lagos
Send Us News, Gist, more... to citypeopleng@gmail.com | Twitter: @CitypeopleMagz
