I first met Late Chief Abiola Ajimobi when the Best of Nollywood BON Awards was hosted in Oyo State. It was a brief encounter, but it left a lasting impression. When our paths crossed again years later in Kano, hosting the same awards, that impression became clearer. He was warm, courteous, and unexpectedly humble. Power did not sit loudly on him.
At the time, I did not know that years later, I would begin what feels like a personal and professional journey into understanding the man beyond the politics. A journey I have come to call researching a true Koseleri.
In Yoruba, Koseleri speaks to something unprecedented. It refers to an achievement that has not been done before. It is about breaking records, redefining possibility, and altering the course of history. In that context, Late Chief Abiola Ajimobi fits the meaning perfectly.
Koseleri is not about noise or self celebration. It is about impact. It is about custodianship. It is about how a leader carries responsibility, authority, and consequence with discipline and conscience. Ajimobi embodied this quietly.
When he passed away in 2020 during the COVID 19 pandemic, the silence around him felt heavy. Yet, with time, something revealing happened. People continued to celebrate his birthday. They gathered with his family, not out of political obligation, but out of genuine respect. That kind of loyalty does not survive on propaganda. It survives on impact.
While he was alive, Ajimobi was one of the most misunderstood governors of his era. Much of the controversy surrounding him stemmed from his insistence on order, particularly during the Oba crises in Oyo State. Obas are traditional rulers whose authority is deeply symbolic and culturally sensitive. Any attempt to regulate that space is often misread as hostility toward tradition.
Late Chief Ajimobi was accused of many things. Stories were twisted. Motives were questioned. But as I began work on a documentary about his life, speaking to those who worked closely with him and examining records of his administration, I discovered that many of those narratives were unfair and in some cases completely untrue.
As governor from 2011 to 2019, Late Chief Abiola Ajimobi brought structure to governance in Oyo State. He focused on urban renewal, infrastructure, and security. The Mokola Flyover, the first constructed by a civilian administration in the state, became a physical symbol of his belief in long term planning. Roads across Ibadan and other major towns were rebuilt. Flood prone areas were addressed. Environmental sanitation was enforced, sometimes unpopularly, but effectively.
Security improved under his watch through coordinated community policing efforts, making Oyo one of the more stable states during a period of widespread national insecurity. He invested in education, rehabilitated public schools, and supported technical and vocational training, driven by the belief that governance must translate into opportunity for young people.
His economic policies opened Oyo State to investors, encouraging private sector participation and job creation. These efforts laid foundations that outlived his administration.
But the clearest expression of Koseleri in Ajimobi’s political life came in 2015. He became the first governor in the history of Oyo State to win a second consecutive term. No governor before him had achieved that feat. It was unprecedented. It rewrote the political record of the state and confirmed that beyond criticism and controversy, the people trusted his leadership enough to return him to office.
Late Chief Abiola Ajimobi was not a governor who chased applause. He governed with firmness, and firmness often attracts resistance. But firmness is not cruelty, and discipline is not wickedness. What my research continues to reveal is a man who believed deeply in order, institutions, and legacy. A leader who understood that development sometimes demands unpopular decisions.
This is why I describe my work as researching a true Koseleri. Late Chief Abiola Ajimobi did what had not been done before. He reset expectations. He proved that structured governance could endure beyond one term.
Today, as stories about him grow more balanced and his achievements speak louder than the controversies, history is beginning to be kinder to him than his own time was.
Ajimobi may no longer be here, but the evidence of his governance remains. In roads. In institutions. In political records that still stand. And as I continue this research, one truth becomes clearer. Some leaders are understood only after they are gone.