A regular diner, an accidental Think Tank and a good mother at 80

Every great institution has a founding story. Some were born in royal palaces. Some emerged from ancient universities. Others grew in the shade of an iroko tree. But one of Lagos’ most enduring institutions began inside what could only politely be described as a gidan kpanu, a modest corrugated iron-roofed shack in Araromi-Odo, Onikan, Lagos. To any unsuspecting passerby it was simply a restaurant. Or at least that’s what everyone thought.

The famous Iya Eba Place has had a remarkable journey over the last four decades. From that humble beginning in Araromi-Odo, he progressed to rented premises on Berkeley Street before finally occupying his current freehold premises on the same street. Economists would describe travel as capital accumulation. We simply call it the reward for hard work, excellent food, and God’s extraordinary favor.

Officially, the place serves food, exceptionally delicious food. Unofficially, however, he has spent more than forty years satisfying appetites much larger than hunger. He nurtured friendships, incubated business ideas, interpreted court decisions, analyzed politics, criticized governments, celebrated victories, comforted the bereaved and solved problems that had never appeared on the government agenda.

Lunch was just the first session. The second session began after work, when professionals whose offices surrounded the courts and commercial district of Lagos discovered a timeless truth. Rather than surrender to the daily punishment called Lagos traffic, especially those heading towards the Lekki axis, it was wiser to retreat to Iya Eba Place, enjoy a cold drink, exchange ideas and wait patiently until the roads regain their sanity.

No one realized they were creating history. In those relaxed evening meetings, a think tank was born by chance. It became known simply as The Iya Eba Table.

Long before Lagos embraced the fashionable language of executive education, entrepreneurship centers, leadership institutes and business schools, there already existed on Berkeley Street what history should generously recognize as Lagos’ first unofficial business school. Technically speaking, the Iya Eba table precedes them all. However, there were no admission forms, no tuition fees, no prospectuses, no accreditations, no graduation ceremonies and certainly no certificates.

Yet every evening, senior lawyers, judges, chartered accountants, bankers, senior civil servants, entrepreneurs and business owners gathered for what can only be described as an advanced masterclass in practical studies of Nigeria’s survival.

Negotiation was taught without PowerPoint. Leadership was learned without lessons. Corporate governance was discussed over steaming bowls of pepper soup. Political Science came free with every bottle of drink. The economy was analyzed with more realism than in many university classrooms, while business strategies were exchanged freely without anyone worrying about intellectual property rights. Harvard may have its famous case studies; The Iya Eba table had Nigerian realities. In most cases, The Table’s conclusions turned out to be significantly more accurate.

At the center of this extraordinary institution sat its legendary unofficial members. Its members are numerous and include personalities whose names would surprise even the most experienced social observer of Lagos. Yet there is no Constitution, no elections, no Annual General Assembly, no register of members and no inauguration ceremony. Yet everyone instinctively knows where to sit and, more importantly, who has earned the right to speak.

For decades, the leadership of The Iya Eba Table was never inherited or imposed; it has always been earned. That honor rests effortlessly on the shoulders of the irrepressible Jide Aminu, a chartered accountant, fondly known simply as Jide Aminu tiwa. Calm in temperament, measured in speech, and formidable in intellect, he presides silently and leads without announcing that he is leading. He is living proof that true authority doesn’t always come with a title or a gavel. Sometimes it is expressed through wisdom, patience, fairness and the rare ability to give every opinion a fair hearing before silently bringing every debate to its logical conclusion. Under his discreet management, The Table remained orderly without written rules, disciplined without sanctions, and intellectually vibrant without ever losing its humor. Without a single election, he became the undisputed president of one of the finest unofficial assemblies in Lagos.

Membership has evolved over the years, but quality has never been compromised. Fools, interestingly, have never needed to be excluded; naturally they excluded each other. After a visit or two, they usually discovered that intellectual poverty was considerably more expensive than paying for lunch. Lawyers, judges, bankers, chartered accountants, public officials, entrepreneurs and illustrious ladies and gentlemen have all occupied those humble plastic chairs.

Many have since become captains of commerce and industry, distinguished jurists, accomplished professionals and respected leaders across Nigeria. The unwritten rules of engagement remain universally understood. National issues are dissected with surgical precision. Court rulings are reviewed before appearing in law reports. Governments form and dissolve before the second bottle arrives. A gratuitous cabinet reshuffle is recommended, while visitors at nearby tables naively assume that these are ordinary customers discussing football. They do not know that another unofficial meeting of the Federal Executive Council was underway.

The greatest irony, however, concerns the identity of the owner. His real name is Alhaja Fausat Abike Adebayo, a proud Lagosian with ancestral roots in Ado-Odo, Yewa, Ogun State. The world knows her simply as Iya Eba. Providence has an extraordinary sense of humor. The woman whom fate appointed as host of one of Lagos’ finest gatherings of lawyers, judges, bankers, accountants and accomplished professionals has never enjoyed the privilege of formal education. He would readily admit that posh English was never his favorite subject: his immortal expressions like “Nylon Building” instead of “Lion Building” have become part of The Table’s oral tradition. Yet, while schools award certificates, God rewards wisdom, and in that exam Iya Eba graduated with honors. What formal education denied her, life made up for with uncommon emotional intelligence, generosity, warmth, humility, memory and the extraordinary gift of making every client feel like family.

He knows our triumphs as if they were his own. He feels our disappointments with sincere concern. He celebrates our weddings, rejoices in our promotions, and mourns our losses. Whenever family members are invited to stand at social occasions, she instinctively joins the queue, not as a caterer, but as one of the family.

She became everyone’s mother, and certainly mine too. She’s also my favorite joke partner. Our playful exchanges have entertained the table on countless evenings.

At eighty years old, Iya Eba has achieved what many famous public figures pursue all their lives. He built an institution without meaning to. He founded a think tank without writing a proposal. She founded what was probably the first unofficial business school in Lagos without ever realizing that she owned it.

He has united generations without campaigning, he has raised successful men and women without standing behind a lecturer’s podium, and he has proven beyond a doubt that character remains the highest qualification for leadership and kindness the most lasting investment.

As family, friends, patrons and distinguished members of The Iya Eba Table will gather on August 1st at the place we all know – isshh! – we won’t just celebrate an 80th birthday. We will celebrate four decades of friendship, laughter, insightful debates, unforgettable meals, mentorship, and an accidental think tank that has quietly educated generations of professionals.

Above all, we will celebrate an extraordinary woman who has proven that the most influential people are not always those in high office, but those who silently create spaces where friendship, humanity, wisdom and hope are served daily alongside a steaming plate of eba.

While some restaurants earn Michelin stars. Iya Eba has earned something infinitely rarer: the affection of generations, the gratitude of countless lives, and a permanent reserve in our hearts.

Happy 80th birthday, our beloved Iya Eba. May the Almighty continue to preserve your health, strengthen your days, broaden your joy, and reward you richly for nurturing not only our bodies, but also our minds, our friendships, and, quite unknowingly, the best unofficial business school Lagos has ever known.

May the Iya Eba table remain busy for a long time.