One of the reasons I love running on the street is the joy I derive from tracing the hidden rhythm of the road. There is a quiet poetry in connecting one path to the next, God forbid a man run fifteen kilometers on a treadmill, staring at a screen, his mind wandering and his soul untouched. Running taught me something sacred: that everything in life is connected. We just need the courage to lace our shoes and show up at the starting line. Today is a testament to that truth.
I celebrate three souls who came into my life at different times, each special in their own way. All born on the same day. All connected—by fate, by grace, by the invisible thread that ties moments and people into one divine narrative.
Mama D
According to the English folks your mum elder sister is your aunty, but God forbid as a trained Yoruba boy I call Victoria Adetutu ODUKOYA aunty. She is my big mum, but I call her Mama D. Dayo is her first son, older than me by about fifteen years. She turned seventy today, and though she has known of me more than I know of her, the years I have known her are filled with memories. She has a very wide hand of love yet remains strict. Feeble but strong, her house was a two bedroom flat where she, her husband and their four children started their family in the early seventies before her husband, baba Dayo, went to be with the Lord in two thousand nine. Though their home was small, their hearts were big, always ready to accommodate and share. I spent most of my evenings after school there waiting for my parent to pick me up, and my long holidays were spent managing the shop, helping with chores or sampling jokes with my cousins, rewarded with sweets and Fanta.
was a banker who rose to branch manager before retiring to manage her own business. One experience stands out: when I was seven, sick in the hospital for months, the doctor walked in one day and told my mum I needed to be moved to Lagos University Teaching Hospital LUTH at once or I might not see the next day. In seconds Mama D and my other aunty Iya Tinu were there. In the car on our way, my mum, my aunts and dad held hands in prayer and prayed down heaven. A minute before we reached the LUTH entrance, my mum stopped the prayer—she heard a voice say I would be fine and I was healed. True enough, I did not spend up to twenty‑four hours before I was discharged. That principle and power of prayer has always stayed with me. Oh yes, I did not mention she is the mother of my favourite cousin Jide Odukoya, the first person to tell me I have all it takes to be comperé and a fashion designer, and who supported me to get started.
Tosin Ibitoye
In 2015 I’d gone to help Jide Odukoya at a wedding exhibition in Ikeja Lagos. I was busy on duty when a hand tapped me on the shoulder and said, “I guess you’re Michael. I was told you’re the go to guy for the best frames in Lagos. I want to make a frame.” He shared his ideas and I said, “Yes, I can make that, but we have to speak later. What’s your number and what’s your name?” “Tosin Ibitoye,” he replied. On that day I did not know heaven was connecting me with not just a customer but with a friend and brother—the guy who would later be my best man at my wedding. He was an MC like myself. Days later we caught up to make the frame, sharing ideas that spanned beyond Gbagada and Osapa London, where we both lived. It has been ten years of friendship—from Lagos to Abuja, to Ibadan, to Birmingham, to London—Tosin and I have shared stages and walked in the realities of the things we spoke into existence. I’ve seen him metamorphose from a young man into a husband and a father always ready to help. Once, on our way to host a show in London not long after he married, Tosin mentioned how marriage can help you stay grounded and true to your purpose. At the time my attention was everywhere, but that conversation made me realize it was time I man up and focus. A year and months later I was ready to sign my marriage papers to say I do, and Tosin was by my side as I made vows for better for worse. Looking back, cheers to a decade of true friendship and happy birthday, Tosin.
Ade Omosanya
After that conversation with Tosin my tummy was upset and everything around me showed it was time to get the bone of my own bone and leave other people’s bones alone. I got more intentional with who I spent my energy with. Along the line I met my wife, and before I knew it I was meeting her family. And that was how I met Ade—my wife’s elder sister’s husband, yes, my brother in law. We do not just share the name Ade; we share a forever commitment and love for amala and the nostalgic feeling of Fuji music and ancient hymnal. Born in Ibadan but having spent a good part of his life in London, our spontaneous nights always end up in amala joints, nodding to the tunes of Levites. Although we now live in UK, we have a big heart for Lagos. Ade is obsessed with numbers and the principle of how things add up, not so shocking as he is an accountant. Today is his birthday and he is giving out some millions to people in Nigeria as good will and to help with the current situation. Follow him on Instagram @Adeceo—you might be part of the lucky winner.
As I lace up my running shoes tomorrow, I will think of Mama D, Tosin and Ade, and how their paths crossed mine—all born on the same day. Running taught me that everything is connected.
What personal belongings do you hold most dear?
Michael Okunloro | Elevate Your Style 