What can I say or write? Where should I even start? Those were some of the questions I have had to ask myself in the last two days. In fact, it got to a point where it felt like I was dreaming until I saw your grave yesterday. Then it finally dawned on me that you are gone for good—that we can never see each other again until we meet to part no more.
But I can only take solace in the fact that death is inevitable. How can one explain your sudden exit?
I left home early in the morning of Thursday, 20th October 2016, when the news of your death hit me like a hard rock.
Coincidentally, I was driving toward your house when the call came in. The voice on the other end was Dr. Seye Kehinde, the Publisher of City Magazine. "Dare, how are you? How is Bola? We haven't heard from her, and we thought we should check with you."
I responded quickly, as usual, that she was very okay, that I would find out and get back to them about why her phone was off, knowing full well that I was very close to her house.
Only for 'Oga,' as we usually address Dr. Seye, to call me back and ask, "How many minutes should I expect your feedback?" Still, I didn't sense that something had gone wrong.
Not until another call came in almost immediately after Oga's, from BKK Ultimo CEO, Alhaji Bashir Kolawole Kuti, who broke the news to me in a very low tone.
"Dare, how are you? They said Bola is dead." As if I didn't hear him properly, I asked, "Which Bola?" The next thing I heard was, "What are we going to do now?" I became so confused that no reasonable answer followed that question. I made another call, and it was confirmed.
Bola Davies joined the saints on Wednesday, 19th October 2016. Her death brought to mind the great, dull, and worst moments we shared together.
She was more than a boss to me—we bonded almost immediately when I joined City People Ibadan office as an Administrative Staff under her supervision.
In a short span of time, our relationship transformed from colleagues to a family bond. My problems were her problems, and I reciprocated in the same manner. We were each other's best friend and confidant. There was hardly a day that passed without us seeing each other.
Even when I felt we were fighting, she would call to tell me, "Dare, Iwo lo mo malice to n keep o! Gist dey, how soon can you come over to my place? I give you 30 minutes." My house is just about a 10-minute drive from hers.
She trained and encouraged me to write stories; nothing was too much for her to achieve. I can still vividly remember the very first assignment she gave me, which was to work on something with the then First Lady of Oyo State, Chief (Mrs) Mutiat Olayinka Ladoja. I was on a six-month probation without the company's identity card. After the project was executed, she said, "Yes! I like your zeal; it seems you are ready for this job."
That, along with many other assignments I completed for the company, led to my confirmation being faster than usual.
We later formed a very powerful team: Sister Bola, myself, and Wole Adejumo, my senior colleague and brother (my Editor).
Under Bola Davies' exemplary leadership, our team became strong and performed excellently in terms of story writing, party coverage, and event planning. The Ibadan office was at its best.
She was the kind of person who would do everything required to bring out the best in you—no matter how painful or stressful it may be. That drive propelled me to become an award-winning staff.
She was always there for me, even after I was transferred to Osun State as City People's Correspondent. She still stood by me despite the challenges I faced.
I must also say that I benefited immensely from her generosity. I can't start talking about that now, but her L.G. microwave (which was my first) is still functioning several years later.
With Bola Davies, getting the job done was the goal, no matter how difficult it might be at times.
"When you are not a spy! You are a society reporter. You must go out, you must go to parties, and you must meet people." Those words keep reverberating in my mind now. I can't count the number of times you said those words to me, as I am not naturally an outgoing person. I later realized the power of networking, especially as a journalist.
Bola Davies, you were an accomplished journalist; highly intelligent, beautiful, a fashionista, a socialite par excellence, a bridge-builder, and an amazing, dynamic woman of high quality.
My heart goes out to your family at this very moment, and I pray that God grants them the fortitude to bear this irreplaceable loss, along with us, your loved ones.
The City People family will miss you. My wife and daughters will miss you, as there will be no more "Dad, let's go to Sister Bola's house." The ice cream, Rice Krispies, and so on will no longer come from you.
I will miss you the most, my Omobolanle Olufunke Davies (nee Ogunsuyi), my gist partner, my friend, my sister, my boss.
I'm not going to receive the 'strong-worded text messages' from you anymore.
Lastly, I'm sure the little secret I kept from you must now be clear to you: the letter through which you recommended me for a query and asked me to help you drop it at the Lagos office never got there. I still have it with me. Wole Adejumo knew about it anyway.
Once more, thank you for the training and discipline you instilled in us.
Adieu, dear sister!
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