“You will always be my son, any day, no matter what!” Such were the re-assuring words of Professor Femi Ojo-Ade to me at an African Literature Association Conference at Macomb-Illinois, some 10 years ago, as I gestured regrets for not having stayed in touch for a while. That may have been our last physical encounter before his sudden demise. A long time indeed to be dislocated and disconnected in a foreign land. The American way of life has somehow partitioned us into small individual compartments as we sadly negotiate immediate priorities in the name of survival. Even in death, he will always be remembered as a humbling spirit who encouraged us all as we pursued an undergraduate degree in foreign languages at the University of Ife (now Obafemi Awolowo University) in Nigeria. Of course, he was a polyglot. French, Spanish, Portuguese, English, and Yoruba were some of the languages he negotiated with ease. One could not be with him and not be inspired. He was an embodiment of inspiration itself. An avis rara by any conventional measurement of analysis. He inspired us, encouraged us, mentored us, and paved the way for a great future for us by the simple gesture of living what he preached. He exuded success in appearance and was quite disciplined to a fault as he taught us both during the day and on occasion in the evenings when his busy schedule took him abroad for official business and had to make up classes upon his return. He was the second Full Professor of French in Nigeria after Professor Abiola Irele. We were fortunate in those days to have professors from Brazil, France, and Nigeria teaching us Portuguese and French—colonial languages of course and which Professor Ojo-Ade saw only as instruments of communication and not of brain washing. We had the best in training thanks to him. He was definitely anti-colonialist and his works reflected a strong stance against all forms of oppression. He wrote persuasively and stylishly. Above all, he fought bravely to prepare the future for us as his students. We learned a lot. We often wondered then why an erudite scholar would come to class in snickers and African embroidered top on Jeans as if he were just an ordinary citizen on campus. On top of that simple wear were white collar beads that gestured his spiritual loyalty to Obatala—the deity of creativity. And a creator he was as he defied all the genres and labels: poet, playwright, critic, and a cultural historian, and political essayist—all rolled into one complex individual in ideology and personality. He picked us up when his path crosses ours at the entrance of the university and took us individually to our residential halls. He shared his books and journals with us after every return from his many visits abroad. In sum, he was our teacher and professional godfather! If his children are reading this, may they know that their father was a man of the people. He was vibrant, lively, and generous. There was no trace of arrogance in him despite his impressive lifetime accomplishments. His signature institutional achievements range from the local to the global. First, as Head of Modern European Languages Department then in 1980, he harmonized the degree programs in French and Portuguese from 5 to 4 years so that students needed not waste the study abroad year but rather have it count as part of the 4-year degree program as it should be. That reduction of one year meant so much to struggling families in Nigeria. It was one less year to spend at the university while still getting a sound education. Second, he spearheaded the purchase of an exclusive University House for study abroad students from Ife-Nigeria to stay in a safe, secure, and friendly locality in Salvador-Bahia-Brazil. Third, he encouraged many top graduates to pursue academic careers by retaining them for NYSC (National Youth Service Corps) as well as securing supplemental funding for them when they gained doctoral admissions abroad. He was a gentleman but could also withstand any roforofo fight (à la Fela) if needed to uphold his dignity. His sense of humor was contagious. I recall when as a member of the Executive Committee of the departmental student body we had protested the introduction of exorbitant fees for the study abroad program and invited him to a meeting with all students. In his characteristic bemusing manner, he stated: “Who says you are traveling abroad this year? Who says you are not? And who says you are paying a dime? Hmmn! Hmmn! Awon Oloje! (bunch of schemers!)” Not only did we not pay a dime, the close to $10, 000 per student investment then in the early 1980s would translate into at least $20,000 to cover tuition, room and board for students.