Fatai Okoya Appeals to Billionaire Father Razaq Okoya for Forgiveness, and Every African Family Group Chat Just Sat Up Straight

Good news: a son has said sorry. Bad news: in an African family, “sorry” is only the first episode.

Fatai Okoya has publicly appealed to his father, billionaire businessman Razaq Okoya, for forgiveness. We do not know all the details, and frankly, we will not pretend to. In Nigeria, family matters are like jollof at a wedding: everyone has an opinion, nobody agrees on the recipe, and somebody’s aunty insists the real one is hers.

But we can talk about the part everyone understands: asking Daddy for forgiveness. This is a skill that every African child has practised, usually from the doorway of the sitting room, with a face the size of a small, wounded bread.

Let us break down the stages. Stage one: silence. You avoid the house for a suitable period, hoping time will quietly delete the offence. Stage two: the intermediary. You send a trusted aunty, a pastor, or an uncle with a good voice, to “just check on things.” Stage three: the appearance. You show up with a bag of something, perhaps fruits, perhaps drinks, perhaps your most sincere face. Stage four: the lecture. This lasts from forty minutes to six business days, and you must nod throughout.

Take Chidi, a man I invented but whom you definitely know. Chidi once broke a window with a football. He did not apologise immediately. He apologised eleven years later, at his sister’s wedding, in front of two hundred guests, because he believed there should be witnesses. His father said, “I forgave you the same day. I just wanted to see how long you would suffer.”

Supporters of public apologies will say it takes courage, and they are right. It is not easy to say sorry in front of the whole internet, where every sentence will be quoted, screenshotted, and analysed by strangers who have never met your father. Critics will say family matters should stay in the family. That is also fair advice, but we are Africans. The family is the neighbourhood, and the neighbourhood is already on its way with chairs.

And let us not forget the commentators, our proudest national workforce. By now, someone has said, “A father is a father.” Someone has said, “Children these days.” Someone has said, “Let them settle it quietly.” And that same person has shared it with four groups.

Anyway, we wish the family peace. May the apology be received, may the lecture be short, and may the next family meeting have enough chairs and fewer opinions.