There was a young lawyer who once worked in my father’s law chambers many years ago a certain Modu Alakija, now known to most people as the husband of the oil baroness Folorunsho Alakija. I was very fond of him as a boy. He was one of those happy-go-lucky, well-dressed, always-smiling types. He even came to watch me play cricket when I was at Eton College.
But money changes people. The man I once knew became self-important, rude, and aggressive — a completely different person. We had an altercation years ago, and for nine years we didn’t speak. When we finally reconnected, I thought perhaps he had mellowed with age. He seemed to be back to his old jovial self, but before long, the darkness returned.
His father and my father had been schoolmates and close friends, so our families had a long bond. Yet about ten years ago, when I called him, he suddenly insisted that I call him “Sir.” Imagine that — someone I’d joked and laughed with all my life, suddenly demanding I address him like a servant addressing his master. I found that both absurd and insulting. I’m not a child and certainly not anyone’s subordinate.
He began to speak rudely and aggressively, saying things that made no sense. I brushed it off. But then he brought up his grandson and said he wanted him to go to Eton. Out of courtesy, and remembering how fond my father was of him, I told him I would inquire. I contacted the Provost of Eton, my old school friend, and explained who Modu was — that his family was one of Nigeria’s most prominent, and that his grandson would be a fine fit for Eton. The Provost, remembering the connection with my father, Chief Godfrey Kio Jaja Amachree, said he’d be happy to personally look into the application.
When I reported this good news back to Modu, I expected a simple thank you. Instead, I received a string of WhatsApp messages accusing me of arrogance and entitlement. Then came this extraordinary message:
“Kio, I don’t know the source of your entitlement and insolence.
Your father gave me a job, not handouts, and as such I do not owe you a dime.
I regret mentioning my grandson’s application and hereby reject your offer of any assistance.
I have countermanded my instructions to the bank to pay you €25,000 and withdraw my offer to resettle you and your family in Lagos.
I hereby request that you stop all correspondence with me henceforth.
— Alakija.”
Now tell me, does that sound like a man who knows what day it is? The part that made me laugh the most was the idea of “resettling me and my family in Lagos.” Imagine that — trying to relocate me to my own country as if I were his house boy! He must have forgotten the last time he saw me — at the top of my game, representing my family with dignity, not begging for anything from anyone.
Later, I Googled him and discovered that he had been suspended from the Ikoyi Club in 2021 for assaulting a photographer he had hired — an elderly man fighting in a social club! That explained a lot. The aggression, the mood swings, the arrogance — all signs of a man losing grip on himself.
Let’s be clear: my father treated Modu like a son. He put him in charge of his property portfolio, though he often complained that his written English was appalling. He used to say, “If he weren’t the son of one of my best friends, I’d have sent him packing.” My father lent him money when he was broke, accepted post-dated cheques, and never cashed a single one. My father made him.
And yet this same man, who borrowed from my father and learned law under him, now speaks to me with such venom and disrespect. That’s what money does. It inflates weak men into gods in their own minds.
He once told me he copied everything my father did — in law, in business — and yet he has the nerve to insult the son of the man who made him what he is. He’s a generous man when it suits him, but like many Nigerians with money, he believes that once he gives you anything, he owns your dignity.
I say this loud and clear: My name is Amachree — not house boy.
If he keeps insulting me, I’ll take him to court for defamation of character.
I have every message, every insult, every word saved.
To his family, I say this: get him help. He drinks too much, and his split personality has turned him into a danger to his own reputation. The man is not well. He’s living proof that money without humility is poison.
#Nigeria #Corruption #Arrogance #Eton #WealthAndMadness #FamilyLegacy #Truth #Respect
By Kio Amachree