A Tribute to Dr. Solomon Arase, CFR -By Zayd Ibn Isah

I have been wanting to write this tribute since the tragic news of my boss’s death, but anytime I sit down to write, words always fail me. Of course, death is inevitable, and every soul shall taste it, as we are reminded in our Holy Books. Yet my boss’s death was the one I least expected, especially as I was already looking forward to his 70th birthday, where I had planned to publish a compendium of all the articles that had been written about him, a book he had graciously given me the go-ahead to unveil on that occasion. Now, death has truncated that plan.

I first met my late boss during the Election Security Summit organised by former IGP Usman Alkali Baba in the build-up to the 2023 general election. The event was held in partnership with his security company. At that time, I attended as one of the staff officers from the Force Public Relations Department.

Whenever I went out for events like that, I always carried complimentary copies of my first published book, We Are All Guilty, to present to distinguished Nigerians of like minds. We Are All Guilty was a drama I wrote between 2016 and 2017, when I was still a young cadet officer at the Nigeria Police Academy, in the prestigious Faculty of Law.

Now, back to my late boss. Immediately after the event, I summoned the courage to walk up to former IGP Solomon Arase, who was standing with some dignitaries in attendance. I greeted him, introduced myself, and told him I had come to present a copy of my book to him. He was so delighted and thanked me warmly for the gesture. Then he asked if I had written my phone number on the book. When I nodded in affirmation, he promised to call me.

But I did not wait for him to call before reaching out again. I got his number from a letter he had written to our office. I sent him a message on WhatsApp, reintroduced myself, and he recognised me immediately. I also shared links to some of my published articles, including my Guest Column in ThisDay. He told me he was proud of me and encouraged me to keep it up. From that moment, I stayed in touch with him, sending “Happy New Week” and “Happy New Month” messages, greetings on Independence Day and Democracy Day, and regularly sharing links to my latest articles.

I never knew he would later be appointed Chairman of the Police Service Commission. For me, having the privilege to connect with a towering figure like the late former IGP was a rare honour I could never take for granted. When the news broke that he had been appointed Chairman of the Commission by the former President Muhammadu Buhari, GCFR, I congratulated him immediately and even went ahead to write an article about him, titled IGP Solomon Arase: A Round Peg in a Round Hole. I shared it with him, and he thanked me. I thought it would end there, only for him to invite me to his house in Maitama. The very first question he asked me was, “Are you a journalist?” I replied, “No, law is my discipline.” He smiled and said the article I wrote about him was superb, that people were even calling him because of it.

He told me he wanted me to be his eyes in the media because I wrote so well. He asked me to submit my name to his Personal Assistant, SP Ukom, which I did. When my posting came out as Media Aide to the Chairman, Police Service Commission, my then boss, DCP Olumuyiwa Adejobi, asked me where I knew IGP Arase (Rtd) from. I replied, “Oga, you always encouraged us to promote ourselves. That was exactly what I did through an article I wrote about him, and he was highly impressed.” He gave me his blessings and I left for my new office.

We started working from his law firm at Wuye, and our first major assignment was to reply to dozens of congratulatory letters from friends, associates, and admirers. Arase valued relationships very well and insisted that no goodwill message should go unanswered. That was his nature, meticulous, humble, and mindful of people. To him, leadership was not about occupying an office but about touching lives, respecting people, and building bridges.

When we later moved to the PSC headquarters at Jabi, I quickly realised I was unprepared for the workload ahead. To call him a workaholic would be an understatement. He always had tasks for everyone. Around him, idleness was impossible. He was a fountain of ideas, a man of impeccable character, always on the move.

He also had an extraordinary knack for networking. Immediately after the President appointed new cabinet members, he instructed me to draft congratulatory letters to every minister and head of government agency. He even made me keep a register of their birthdays. “Woe betide you,” he would say jokingly, “if any of these birthdays passes without a letter.” Not just public officials, even journalists were accorded the same courtesy.

I recall vividly when he organised a send-off party for Femi Adesina. I was tasked with sending invitations to the select list provided. That assignment introduced me to some of Nigeria’s finest journalists, Sam Omatseye, Reuben Abati, Azu Ishiekwene, and my elder brother, Mr. Olusegun Adeniyi, who could not attend because he was out of the country. Arase celebrated with people, but he also mourned with them. Many times, I drafted condolence letters for him, often touched by how deeply he shared in the pains of others.

Working with him was more than an official duty; it was a mentorship journey. He guided me like a father, corrected me like a teacher, and supported me like a leader who genuinely wanted those around him to succeed. He believed passionately in creating opportunities for the younger generation.

The year 2023 was arguably the most productive year of my life, thanks to him. He never saw me as “a small boy.” He gave me tasks and expected results. I used to joke with friends that with the way Arase kept calling me “journalist,” if I ever resigned from the police to pursue journalism, my parents, who dream of me becoming a future Inspector General of Police, should hold him responsible.

His mentorship was not only verbal but also practical. When he was nominated as a member of the Body of Benchers, I called to congratulate him. He responded with a prayer: “You will be bigger than me.” Though I said “Ameen,” in my heart I thought, Oga, if I achieve even half of what you achieved, I will be content. But such was his spirit, every good mentor prays for his mentee to surpass him.

Beyond words, he supported me financially. When I told him I was going to Law School, he was delighted and offered to pay more than half of my registration fee, along with monthly stipends for upkeep. He looked forward eagerly to my Call to Bar, where, as a member of the Body of Benchers, he hoped to witness his mentee formally called into the profession. But God had other plans.

He also supported my writing. He was excited about the forthcoming publication of my second book, The Nigerian Spirit is Special, a collection of my articles with a foreword graciously written by former President Olusegun Obasanjo.

IGP Arase was a colossus, and his death is a colossal loss. He gave hope of education to children of the less privileged through his Foundation. He was also a unifier. Shortly after his appointment at PSC, he sought to bring retired police officers together under one platform. At his instruction, I created the Retired Police Officers’ Consultative Forum WhatsApp group, which grew into the Police Veterans’ Foundation. Today, that platform continues to provide retired officers a voice in contemporary policing discourse.

Above all, I always described him as one of the best human managers in the world. He never showed favoritism to any of his aides. He was fair to all of us, regardless of our ethnicity or religion. That rare quality made working with him both inspiring and fulfilling.

The list of his contributions to society is inexhaustible. What I have written here is but a glimpse, for the sake of this tribute.

This tribute is not an attempt to whitewash the image of my late boss. I am not writing good things about him simply because he was my boss, nor because in my religion, and indeed in African culture, it is considered a taboo to speak ill of the dead. For Dr. Solomon Arase, res ipsa loquitur – the facts speak for themselves. His impeccable records in public service are there for all to see, to judge, and to celebrate.

As I write, I still struggle to accept that I will no longer hear his reassuring voice, receive his fatherly counsel, or see his infectious smile. Yet I am consoled that he lived a worthy life, a life of service, sacrifice, and impact. He has left behind a legacy that will outlive him, and for that, we give glory to Almighty God.

As his Media Aide, I wrote many condolence letters on his behalf. Today, it is to him that I pen this last one, with a heavy heart and a deep sense of gratitude.

Rest on, my boss, my mentor, my father-figure. You finished your race, and you finished well. May Almighty God forgive your shortcomings, grant you eternal rest, and comfort your family and all of us you left behind.

Adieu, Sir Solomon Arase.

Zayd Ibn Isah can be reached at lawcadet1@gmail.com