*”WHO ARE YOU?, AND WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH MY YOUNGER WOLE SOYINKA SELF?”:* Exclusive Breaking News On The Heated Conversation When *Wole Soyinka @50 Meets the Wole Soyinka @90*

*The Confrontation Scene*: A quiet study in Abeokuta. Books everywhere. Palms whisper outside the window.

Then the door creaks open — and in walks a younger Wole Soyinka, aged 50: afro blazing, eyes fiery, voice sharp as thunder.

Behind the desk sits the now 90-year-old Soyinka — calm, slow, decorated, sipping tea from a cup engraved “Order of the Niger.”

*50-YEAR OLD YOUNG SOYINKA:*
Who are you, old man? You wear my face, my beard, my laurels — but not my fire.

What have you done with my legacy? I fought soldiers with nothing but words sharper than bayonets.

I faced prisons, bullets, and exiles — all for a nation that refused to kneel.

I stormed a radio station with a revolver to stop rigging.

I founded the Pirates Confraternity to confront corruption head-on.

I told the world “The man dies in all who keep silent in the face of tyranny.”

And now I find you — a 90-year old old man sipping tea with tyrants on my table wearing an old semblance of my face

*OLD SOYINKA (@ 90):*
Calm down, my impetuous youth. You’ll understand someday. Fire burns out; wisdom matures. We cannot stay in permanent rebellion forever.

*YOUNG SOYINKA*:
Wisdom? Don’t insult me. You mean compromise?. You once called power a disease — now you collect its medals wearing big traditional robes

You rejected national honours from Jonathan, calling him corrupt — yet you casually embraced Tinubu’s, smiling like a groom at his own coronation. Didn’t the irony seem obvious to you since though you may be older now, you still write very good literature 🤷🏿‍♂️

You, the same man who once roared “I don’t need validation from corrupt regimes!” Now, Today you’re the poster boy for the establishment you swore to dismantle.

You, the lion who barks and bites the powers that be — now purring contentedly in the palace of oppressors!

You who would have sent out your boys in the Pirates Confraternity on the streets to protest or even harm anyone voting for leaders with so much baggage just 20 years ago, now glorify a man with so many questionable credentials to became president of our nation just because he provided you a house and kitchen utensils when you were in exile from abacha?

Since when have we decided to place friendship about principle?

*OLD SOYINKA*:
Ah, but Jonathan was a moral disaster.

Tinubu is a friend; I know his heart. He bought kitchen utensils for me when I was moving house years ago with nothing

You can’t equate being loyal to friendship with me supporting corruption.

*YOUNG SOYINKA (furious):*
Friendship? So that’s the price of integrity now — friendship?

You trained us to fear no man, to bite even the hand that feeds injustice.

And now you dine with that very hand.

Tell me, Professor — when did your courage retire? Was it before or after the GCON medal glittered on your chest?

*OLD SOYINKA:*
You don’t understand the nuances of diplomacy, boy. The nation has changed. The young have become reckless, rude — children of anger.

They don’t fight with purpose anymore, only noise. They abuse elders anyhow and call it activism . They are now mostly children of anger masquerading as freedom fighters

*YOUNG SOYINKA (laughing bitterly):*
Children of anger? You dare call them that?
They are your spiritual descendants!

Their tweets are softer than the bullets I carried, their hashtags milder than the barricades I built in our younger days.

They only shout on social media with texts— I stormed a radio station!

And yet you condemn them? You inspired rebellion — and now you curse it.

The youths are walking in your footsteps, only without guns. But you, old man, have become the thing we once fought.

*OLD SOYINKA:*
They lack respect! They mock elders, they insult icons.

They called me names — “ethnic bigot,” “out-of-touch relic.” Should I bless insolence?

*YOUNG SOYINKA:*
Respect is earned, not inherited like national honours.

I earned ours with blood and bravery when I was young — then squandered it with silence and selective outrage in your latter years

Once, you were the conscience of a continent.
Now, you are its cautionary tale.

*OLD SOYINKA (sighing):*
Time humbles every lion. Even you will mellow someday.

*YOUNG SOYINKA:*
No, sir — time should temper conviction, not bury it. The flame of truth does not retire; it either burns or dies.

You were the continent’s fiery voice against injustice, and now you whisper excuses for those in power.

You once wrote *The Man Died* that inspired generations to be rebellious against injustice and corruption — now it seems the man has died in you.

*OLD SOYINKA:*
Be careful, boy. You forget that I gave the world a Nobel. I gave Africa a voice.

*YOUNG SOYINKA:*
And then you lost it! What’s a Nobel when the pen that won it now defends oppression?

What’s global fame when it becomes the excuse to go soft on things that used to rile you up?

You taught us to fight tyranny. Now you fight those who dare fight it.

The man who once faced generals now scolds Twitter users. The rebel has become the referee and ridiculer of rebellion.

*OLD SOYINKA (rising, defensive):*
Don’t reduce me to your youthful arrogance. I’ve earned the right to peace.

At 90 I’m tired!

*YOUNG SOYINKA (coldly):*
Tired? The oppressed are still tired, too — of waiting.

While you sip comfort in Abeokuta, youths rot in prisons for doing what you taught us to do: speak.

You call it fatigue; I call it betrayal of everything I stood for when I was the young Wole Soyinka.

*OLD SOYINKA (mutters in an effort to change subject and get sympathy from his younger self):*
America treated me unjustly — revoked my visa. A Nobel Laureate denied respect!

*YOUNG SOYINKA (mocking):*
Oh, the irony! You tore your Green Card on camera, declared you’d never return — and now you hold a press conference because they took you at your word!

The rebel who defied empires now whines because they didn’t give him entry stamps by a govt he publicly condemned 10 years ago

The lion of Africa reduced to a tourist complainant over a visitors visa to the same place you had actively destroyed permanent residence card graciously given to you for my hardwork as the younger Wole Soyinka

Seriously, Who are you, old man? And What have you done with my legacy?

(A long silence.)

The old Soyinka looks away, eyes misty.

The young Soyinka paces, voice trembling with rage and sorrow.

*YOUNG SOYINKA (softly):*
I fought for truth, not trophies. For justice, not just applause. You were my future — but you betrayed my youthful past.

If this is what greatness becomes, then maybe history needs fewer heroes.

(The young Soyinka turns to leave.)

Before he exits, he pauses and whispers one last time:

*”The man dies in all who keep silent in the face of tyranny. You wrote those words. And now, old man… they’ve come to bury you.”*

Last Words From The Fadeyi Balcony:

I honestly think that The tragedy of the once great Wole Soyinka who inspired generations to be rebellious of oppression and corruption isn’t that he grew old — it’s that he grew quiet.

He taught us how to roar, but forgot how to listen to our echoes. He dared youths to buck authority when they are oppressive or corrupt and then in his old age he ridiculed the youths who dared to follow in his footsteps and challenged murky elections and oppression in the land

When the rebel becomes respectable, the revolution loses its poetry. When you see a legendary rebel mount the rostrum to collect medals from those his books and writings had condemned when he was 50, all you can do is ask “Who is This Wole Soyinka @91 And what has he done with our hero at 50”

And when a once-fearless lion that resisted wolves in sheep’s clothing with potent weapons like his writings and student fraternity cults starts defending the hunters and oppressors , it’s not age — it’s amnesia.

So today, I ask again: “Who are you, Sir Wole Soyinka @90 and what have you done with our beloved and legendary Wole Soyinka @50?”

My name is Ope Banwo
Self-styler Mayor Of Fadeyi , and Founder, Naija Lives Matter.

PostScript: Yes, I am one of those generations who grew up inspired to activism and fight for justice by the life, books and personal of the great Wole Soyinka in his youthful years .. but now disappointed in his condemnation of the angry youths of our nation in his old age. We expect him to be the comforting voice for the hiring youths of our nation and not the castigator of those who only seek to carry on his legacy

Make of that what you will. I said what I said 🚶🏽‍♂️🚶🏽‍♂️🚶🏽‍♂️🚶🏽‍♂️🚶🏽‍♂️