By JK Randle
Alaba was born with huge advantages and privileges. His parents were aristocrats – Sir and Lady Adeyemo Alakija. The pedigree of the Alakijas was matched in equal measure by the maternal side– James George who owned land in prime locations in Lagos, namely Odunlami Street/Broad Street (jointly with my grandfather Dr J.K. Randle) and Ikoyi (James George Street). We can afford to ignore the experts who insist that breeding/pedigree, advantages and privileges are powerful factors for determining handicaps in polo, horse-racing, golf etc. Sir Adeyemo Alakija attended Oxford University, England.
Alaba and I were friends for over seventy-five years and our paths first crossed at the Lagos Race Club where horse-racing flourished at the centre of Lagos. The race course is now known as Tafawa Balewa Square. Sir Adeyemo Alakija was the chairman and my dad Chief J.K. Randle was the Vice-Chairman. Time and space will not permit me to dwell on the dramatic events that revolved around which horse had won and which one had lost. The camera was not always the final arbiter in the photo-finish!! Some of the older folks may well recall the songs that captured the essence of perceived injustice and shenanigans at the Lagos Race Club. “Mori Alakija to fun esin lomi, oro po nibe” (I caught Sir Adeyemo Alakija…) and “Awon J.K. Randle won pa kadara da. Esin Baba Bandele je lodan, won gbe fun…”. There is no need to translate it. If you know, you know.
Alaba was very much a family man. He had an older brother (late Taiwo); an older sister Titi (who thankfully is still with us) and a younger brother late Yinka whom everyone adored. Yinka was a victim of sickle cell anemia.
We are not here to mourn but to thank The Almighty for granting Alaba a long life and the abundant blessings of his loving wife Judith and children–two boys Yinka and Adeyemo; and two daughters – Banke and Tosin as well as thirteen grandchildren.
Much as Alaba loved his family, horses (horse-racing/polo) and dogs (dog-racing) were formidable rivals for his time love, affection and devotion. It is not by happenstance that the venue for this Evening of Tributes is the Lagos Polo Club of which he was a Trustee and his son Adeyemo is the current president. I was once the Treasurer of the Club.
I recollect that Alaba attended St. Peter’s School, Faji/Ajele, Lagos and survived the collapse of the school wall in 1955. He was briefly at St Gregory’s College Obalende, Lagos (just a stone-throw from his home at Keffi Street) before proceeding to the United Kingdom.
During our student days in London, Alaba was the undisputed authority on horse-racing; and dog-racing; and to a lesser extent polo. He was never an innocent by-stander. Accompanied by his brother Yinka (plus cousins and friends) his day would start with visits to the book makers (who styled themselves as Turf Accountants) to place his bets or be physically present at race tracks–Sandown; Ascot; Goodwood; Brighton; Newbury etc. The evenings were devoted to dog-racing at White City; Harringay; Romford etc.
In this sporting enterprise, Alaba and Yinka may have cast a spell on their ever over indulgent uncles–Chief Oladipo Moore Q.C and Chief (Dr) Modupe Norman-Williams who absolutely believed in the wizardry of their nephews to pick winners having committed hours of diligent study to the form of the horses and dogs combined with the odds, weight, jockey, trainer, handicap and ground conditions of the racetrack. They were all incurable optimists. Whenever they lost, regardless of the size of the losses, they would be back the following day and night vigorously seeking not only to recoup their losses but with a fierce determination to bankrupt their tormentors–the bookmakers (Turf Accountants who could never lose).
I can bet that up there in heaven, Alaba must have recouped his losses on planet earth. For most of his adult life, the deceased kept a tight circle of family and friends. I do not need to mention their names. They know themselves. Perhaps I should say we know ourselves, as I count myself as his loyal friend, especially as he asked me to be the Godfather to one of his twin sons–Adeyemo. Also, in the resolution of the longstanding dispute between Wemabod/O’dua Properties Limited over the leasehold of the prime land belonging to Dr. J.K. Randle, James George and the Cathedral Church of Christ directly opposite the church, Alaba represented the James George family while I represented the Dr Randle family. We were allies on the side of justice and fairness.
Somewhere along the line, the deceased switched from being a regular church goer (Anglican) to becoming an Evangelist of the Baptist Church. He became a more committed believer but his devotion to horses and dogs remained robust and enduring.
Our regular banter revolved around his relish of his breakfast which regardless of time, location or circumstances must be the full English breakfast–tea, toast, sausages, bacon, eggs and most especially kippers.
For over three decades, Alaba would remind me of a joke I had told him in London. Shegar the Irish wonder horse was the undisputed mile champion in England. However, he could not handle any distance beyond the mile. A mile was absolutely his limit. Anyway, Shegar was kidnapped on the eve of a major race which he was dead certain to win. The alarm went off. There was a frantic search for the horse all over England and Ireland. It was panic everywhere. A generous reward was offered for useful information about the whereabouts of Shegar the wonder horse. This prompted an Irish wag to call Scotland Yard (police) and deliver a powerful message. “Instead of looking everywhere, just focus on where the horse was last seen and limit your search to a radius of one mile. Shegar would never venture beyond a mile”!!! Incidentally, the horse was murdered. The head was found but not the rest of its body.
Another joke we shared was about the Duke of Devonshire’s antics regarding the doping of his horse at Ascot Horse Racing. Just before the commencement of the race, the Duke accosted his trainer and insisted on tasting the dope before it was injected into the horse. The horse was immediately fired up. Alas, so also was the Duke. This prompted the trainer to confide in the jockey: “If anything goes past this horse, it must be the Duke of Devonshire”.
The history of the Alakija family and mine criss-cross and converge at various points. Sir Adeyemo was born in 1884 but was friends with my grandfather Dr. J.K. Randle who was born in 1855, He qualified as a doctor (Edinburg University) in 1888. Perhaps I should add that it was Dr. J.K. Randle who founded Nigeria’s first Political party, “The People Union”, in 1908. What was quite remarkable is that when Sir Adeyemo died on 10th May 1952 it was my father Chief J.K. Randle who succeeded him as chairman of both Lagos Island Club and Lagos Race (Horse Racing) Club.
During his lifetime Alaba Alakija made a success of his construction company but wound it up several years ago owing to the vagaries of the Nigeran economy. That left him with plenty of time to devote to his horses. He was in his element in the paddocks and stables of the Lagos Polo Club. Horse racing had ceased in Lagos. It was extinguished by the Military Government which took over the Race Course and converted it to a parade ground. Alaba found solace at horse races in Ibadan and in Accra, Ghana.
Alaba Maintained life-long friendships with his late fathers’ jockeys – Adamu, Hassan and several others. My recollection of the names of the horses which belonged to the stable of Sir Adeyemo Alakija were – “Thirty-One”, “While Hope”, etc. That was during the Victorian Age when Nigerians were weaned on speaking the Queen’s (King’s) English. Alas, when the King Charles recently hosted president Bola Ahmed Tinubu at a State Dinner at Windsor Castle, he spoke in Pidgin English.
Alaba passed on after a brief illness. I believe from up there in heaven, Alaba would be laughing about what he and I regarded as our favorite stories about horses.
One of them was about a Nigerian business tycoon who was driving the latest Rolls Royce car around the Countryside in England. Unfortunately, he lost his way and ended up with a head-on collision with a horse which was strolling on a farm. The farmer was furious. He cocked his rifle. When he noticed that the horse was groaning in pain, he decided to save it from further agony. He shot the horse. He turned to the Nigerian tycoon who was trembling with fear. He too was in pain, having suffered bruises and lacerations, “Chief, I hope you are alright. Do you need help?” the Nigerian noticed that the rifle was still cocked; his response was: “I have never felt better in life. I do not need any help at all”. He drove away as fast as he could.
Another horse story was about a circus that had been in existence for centuries. It was owned by a family and it had passed through several generations. However, owing to financial difficulties it could no longer continue in business. They decided to share the animals amongst four brothers. One of the brothers ended up with a horse as his share of the distribution. He was distraught until he came up with a brilliant idea. He would go from one village to another in England and offer a special prize to anyone who could make his horse nod his head up and down; and thereafter make the horse shake its head vigorously from side to side, whoever wanted to participate would have to first drop a shilling into the hat. First week, second week, third week and for may weeks nobody won. The guy was making stacks of money as he went all over England. Business was booming. That was until Nigerian guy turned up. He dropped his shilling into the hat and went up to the horse and delivered a vicious kick to its groin. The horse screamed but did not nod its head up and down. Neither did it shake its head side by side. The Nigerian guy lost. He decided to strategize.
At the next village, Woolton, the owner of the horse was doing brisk business. All was well until he noticed that the Nigerian guy was in the audience. What followed was apprehension and panic. The Nigerian guy allowed everyone else to have a go but they all failed. He then walked up to the horse and gripped the horse by the ears. He asked the horse: “Do you remember what I did to you last time?” the horse remembered the vicious kick in the groin and promptly nodded his head up and down. What followed was another question: “Do you want me to do it again?” without hesitation the horse shook its head from side to side in panic with an emphatic “NO”!!
The Nigerian guy won big time. Thereafter, wherever the horse-owner showed up, the Nigerian guy would show up and do his stuff all over again. The horse owner eventually sold the horse to the Nigerian guy who is now a frontline politician in Nigeria.
When we next see him, the venue will be the other side of human existence.
Until then – Adieu*Bashorun J.K. Randle delivered this tribute on April 15, 2026 at the Lagos Polo Club, Lagos.
🚨 BREAKING: Watch the full clip here ➤
