Two Books, One Nation: Inside the Lagos Gathering That Challenged Nigeria to Think Again

At Dr. Ayokunnu Olowoporoku’s MUSON event, pastors, professors, entrepreneurs and dreamers searched for Nigeria’s lost greatness through two books

Segun Atanda/

The rain had threatened Lagos earlier in the day, but by the time guests began streaming into the AGIP Recital Hall of the MUSON Centre in Onikan, the atmosphere had changed. The city, noisy and impatient outside, seemed to soften briefly for an unusual gathering, one that felt less like a book launch and more like a national intervention.

On stage stood two books: LifeWire: Philosophies for Daily Living. See It, Say It, Do It.

But by the end of the afternoon, those books would become symbols, mirrors held up before a restless country still wrestling with its dreams, disappointments, contradictions, and possibilities.

The hall filled steadily with sharply dressed academics, pastors carrying the gravity of conviction, businessmen wrapped in quiet confidence, retired public servants, young professionals clutching notebooks, and students watching history and hope share the same room.

Moments at the MUSON Book Launch of Dr. Ayokunnu Olowoporoku.

At the centre of it all was Dr. Ayokunnu Olowoporoku, entrepreneur, academic, thinker, and now author, whose decade-long intellectual journey had finally found physical form in two carefully crafted volumes.

Yet before the books could speak, Nigeria spoke first. It spoke through Pastor Tunde Bakare and Professor Olalekan Asikhia.

Dr. Ayokunnu Olowoporoku and his old school mates at the Federal School of Arts and Science, Victoria Island, Lagos, during his book launch at the MUSON Centre, Onikan.

Professor Asikhia’s presence at the event was more than ceremonial; it was foundational. Before the emotional crescendos and national reflections that later defined the afternoon, the Caleb University Vice Chancellor had already set the intellectual tone with clarity and depth.

Measured in delivery and rich in insight, Professor Asikhia described LifeWire and See It, Say It, Do It as timely interventions in a society increasingly distracted by shortcuts, superficial success, and instant gratification.

He argued that genuine success is neither accidental nor mystical, but built through discipline, character, competence, and consistency.

According to him, Nigeria’s future will depend not merely on infrastructure or politics, but on the quality of minds the nation nurtures. He urged young Nigerians to reject entitlement and embrace self-development, creativity, innovation, and lifelong learning.

Professor Asikhia praised Dr. Ayokunnu Olowoporoku for producing books capable of bridging the gap between reflection and execution, a gap he suggested has contributed significantly to Nigeria’s developmental struggles.

When the Serving Overseer of the Citadel Global Community Church (CGCC) rose to deliver the keynote address, the atmosphere shifted instantly. He did not begin with pleasantries. He began with memory.

He took the audience back to 1960, to a Nigeria once celebrated by the world as Africa’s brightest hope.

He painted vivid pictures of Sir Abubakar Tafawa Balewa addressing global audiences without notes, of constitutional conferences where brilliant minds debated nationhood with dignity and vision, and of a country once admired not merely for its size or resources, but for its promise.

Then his voice deepened.

“Unfortunately,” he said, “that promising beginning was interrupted.”

What followed was less a speech than a sweeping historical lamentation, a journey through military coups, corruption, abandoned visions, civil war, shattered democratic hopes, and generations of interrupted progress.

Bakare spoke of Awolowo’s revolutionary free education programme with the nostalgia of a man remembering a golden age. He spoke of the old Western Region’s first television station in Africa, its infrastructural ambition, and its bold developmental imagination.

“Once upon a time,” he said, “Dubai came here to move money. Today, they have left us behind.”

The hall fell silent. There was pain in his voice, but also defiance. At a point, he fought back tears.

He spoke about June 12, MKO Abiola, failed transitions, and Nigeria’s tragic habit of recycling historical mistakes.

“Those who do not learn from history,” he warned, “will continue to repeat the blunders of history until they themselves become history.”

Yet even in critique, Bakare refused despair.

“I believe with all my heart,” he said, “that in my lifetime Nigeria will work.”

The applause came not merely because of what he said, but because of how desperately people wanted to believe him.

Then came one of the afternoon’s unforgettable lines: humorous, painful, and brutally honest.

“If you want to hide anything from a black man,” Bakare said, pausing for effect, “put it in a book because they don’t read.”

The audience exploded into laughter. But it was the kind of laughter that arrives carrying embarrassment, because everyone knew there was truth buried inside the joke.

When Dr. Ayokunnu Olowoporoku eventually mounted the podium, he spoke not like a celebrity author, but like a man unveiling pieces of his private soul.

His voice carried gratitude, introspection, and the calm intensity of someone who had wrestled with ideas for many years before releasing them into the world.

He revealed that the books were written over nearly a decade: years of reflection, rewriting, observation, entrepreneurship, teaching, failure, growth, and spiritual searching.

“These books,” he said quietly, “were born from moments of deep contemplation about life, purpose, human potential, and the growing challenges confronting individuals and society today.”

He spoke of confusion: Fear. Inconsistency. The tragedy of gifted people trapped inside unrealized lives.

Again and again, he returned to one idea: execution.

Nigeria, he implied, did not suffer from a shortage of talent. It suffered from a shortage of disciplined action.

He explained that LifeWire emerged from philosophical reflections on human behaviour, wisdom, resilience, relationships, and intentional living, while See It, Say It, Do It evolved into a practical framework for achievement.

“You must first see possibility,” he said. “Then say what you believe with conviction. Then finally do what is necessary with courage and discipline.”

Simple. Yet difficult enough to transform lives.

At one point, the audience laughed warmly as he narrated how his young son decoded the symbols on the cover of See It, Say It, Do It.

“The eye is to see. The mouth is to say. The arrow means go and do it.”

For Olowoporoku, that moment confirmed the clarity of the message.

But perhaps the emotional centre of his speech arrived when he reflected on why he pursued a PhD.

“I prayed,” he recalled, “‘Father, make my PhD count for something meaningful to Your glory and to the service of mankind.’”

The room listened carefully, because beneath the polished ceremony was something increasingly rare in modern public life: sincerity.

Then came Aare Dele Momodu: publisher, politician, media icon, storyteller.

And like a seasoned griot, he turned memory into theatre.

He narrated his years of frustration after university, how unemployment pushed him into journalism, and how hardship eventually redirected him toward purpose.

“My original dream,” he confessed, “was to become a teacher.”
But Nigeria had other plans.

Momodu spoke warmly about books as living legacies.

“Long after you are gone,” he said, “people are still reading you.”

Then he pivoted sharply into national criticism.

“The more educated you are,” he observed, “the more politicians want to run away from you.”

The audience nodded knowingly.

Momodu pledged to market the books globally, insisting that ideas must travel beyond launch ceremonies if they are to shape society.

“There is no point writing a book,” he said, “if nobody will read it.”

By the time Dr. Peter Ogudoro began reviewing the books, the event had already become intellectually charged. But his review elevated the atmosphere further.

Measured, analytical, and deeply reflective, Ogudoro described the books as transformational tools rather than ordinary literary projects.

He explored themes of resilience, delayed gratification, courage, discipline, intentional living, and philosophical awakening embedded in the works.

He warned against the culture of dependency and magical thinking that often cripples ambition.

Then he shared a story that unsettled many in the hall.

A young unemployed woman, invited to attend a free employability training programme, missed class because she attended a vigil the previous night.

“The miracle was on the way,” he said solemnly, “but she was nowhere to be found.”

The room became reflective again, because everyone understood the deeper point.

Ogudoro eventually delivered perhaps the boldest statement of the day: “These books,” he said, “may achieve more for Nigeria than the next general election.”

Mr. Segun Oloketuyi, the chief launcher, brought warmth and humility to the gathering, describing writing as “an act of service” capable of reaching millions of people the author may never physically meet.

Retired DIG Leye Oyebade mni added another dimension entirely, speaking about policing, governance, institutional weakness, and the urgent need for Nigerians to think differently.

“Nations fail because institutions are weak,” he said, adding that one man changed Singapore.

Then, he returned to the recurring theme of the afternoon:
“Leaders are readers.”

By the closing moments, something remarkable had happened inside the MUSON Centre. The gathering had ceased to be merely ceremonial. It had become confessional.

A country searching for direction had briefly paused to interrogate itself. And standing quietly at the centre of that interrogation were two books asking uncomfortable but necessary questions:
Can a nation rise if its people refuse to think deeply?

Can dreams survive without discipline?

Can greatness emerge without execution?

As guests rose for a standing ovation, the applause felt larger than literature.

It sounded like longing: Longing for wisdom; longing for leadership; longing for a Nigeria that still exists powerfully in imagination, waiting, perhaps, for citizens courageous enough not merely to dream it…

…but to see it, say it, and do it.