Rune Westlund (1921 – 2021). I Knew A Good Man.

By Adeola Aderounmu

There are not so many people in the world today or even in old times who would open their doors for others to come in. It is not a matter of whether one is a stranger or not. Opening of doors to others is not even a family matter. People have locked out friends and strangers alike. For various reasons, people close their doors and lives to family members. People are strange. We are strange.

So, when a person willfully opens his/her door to help you accomplished a task or reach your goals, it is not just a matter of flesh and blood, it is the best of humanity. It is a feeling that you cannot describe or quantify. It is something that should boost the quality of your thoughts and move them in a positive direction, permanently.

Rune was a man with a good heart and a clear conscience. He was a symbol of harmony and dedication

Breaking a chain of kindness can bring non-visible pains as well as emotional distress to those who really have flesh, bones and hearts. Breaking the chains of paying (good deeds) forward can bring unhappiness or a feeling of unfulfillment. You break the chain already when you lack appreciation. You break it when you close your door and heart to others even when you could have sustained it or pay it forward. Indeed, humans are plagued with insecurities and broken chains of goodwill. We are!

I am not qualified to write the tributes of a man who lived for almost 100 years. I can only pay my respect. Rune Westlund was a man who opened his doors and life to as many as he could possibly do. He would have been 100 years old today (12 December). Rune was born in Stockholm in 1921. He left us, peacefully, on 26 April 2021 after a brief illness. His burial took place at Kanalkrykan in Sandviken, a place where he spent his working life and nurtured his family. A few people are worth celebrating, even in death. Rune stood out amongst them. I am paying him this respect as a way of celebrating his life and all the indelible marks he left behind.

I knew Rune for about 17 years. His kindness and thoughtfulness ensured that he became one of those who impacted my life. It added to the list of the people who previously influenced my choices in life: my parents, my teachers, and a few good people. Rune was the great-grandfather of my 2 wonderful daughters. He was the same to a handful others. If you are looking for exemplary, selfless life, he lived one. He was an accomplished man who left us a year after Smith & Tell sang that 2020 was the Year Of The Young.  Even 2021 turned out to be another year of the young.

Almost invariably, we always feel sad when our loved ones leave us even if they had grown very old. But sometimes we ought to focus on the quality of their lives too and the impact they made to humanity. In addition, we ought to reflect on the roles we played when they were with us. How much time did we spend with them and how well did we influence the things that were within our capabilities to do? A lot of people would find genuine or residual happiness if they focused on the outstanding quality of lives that their loved ones experienced and the positive values they added to humanity.

Rune was a man with a good heart and a clear conscience. Until his last days, his mind was alert and his memories never depreciated in worth. I will not tell you how, but he was ingenious. Okay, I’ll tell you: he kept the ones he loved close to his heart. Rune was never out of words to describe things and events. There was almost nothing he forgot. Throughout life and in all seasons, he trained his mind to remember the things that matter. He never forgot the birthdays of any member of the family.

He knew the dates when all his grandchildren and great-grand children were born. He read newspapers and followed current affairs. He could discuss politics at top level, and he never shied away from our discussions on sports. The value or worth of our memories can never depreciate if the people we love are always in our hearts and if we apply our heart to good deeds. We often neglect the need to overcome our shortcomings to find fulfilment and happiness. There are, of course, consequences for life’s choices.

Rune was a symbol of harmony and dedication. He was contented and happy. He was always calm and jovial. Faced by the inevitable, the end of all mortals, he never lost it. For a man who lost his wife Anita to cancer in 2008, he carried on gracefully and kept fond memories of her. In their lifetime, Rune and Anita were also parents to some other people they never met in real life. Regularly, they sent monies that ensured that some children in faraway places on earth had food on their tables and got educated. As if that was not sufficient, they opened their doors to receive and welcome immigrants in Gävle/Sandviken area of Sweden. In their home, immigrants learned a new language, they learned to cook and bake. They found a dependable base to seek happiness and hope for the future.

Rune was aptly described by his children as a man with great generosity, empathy, and strong integrity. He had a great sense of humor and presence. When the sun went through the windows and shone on his casket, it was an affirmation that he was a good man who deserved to rest in glory. Rune is survived by children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren.

I knew a good man. His name was Rune Westlund. He’s resting, in peace.

Pojken Med De Gyllene Öronen

Mina barndomsminnen skulle vara ofullständiga utan min mammas vånda när hon satt och såg mitt spädbarnshuvud dekoreras med två ofullständiga öron. När jag ser tillbaka är jag så tacksam för allt bemödande min mamma la ner på att rengöra mina öron.




av Adeola Aderounmu

Året var 1986 då jag fjorton år gammal tog bussen till Lagos Allmänna sjukhus för att genomgå en öronoperation. Det var menat att bli slutet på en rad tidigare besök på sjukhuset. När jag föddes var mina öron inte färdigväxta. Defekterna var uppenbara eftersom mina hörselgångar ofta var fyllda med en gulaktig vätska.

Mina barndomsminnen skulle vara ofullständiga utan min mammas vånda när hon satt och såg mitt spädbarnshuvud dekoreras med två ofullständiga öron.

Jag minns min barndoms dagar i grundskolan. Jag hade alltid en laddning med bomullsvadd hemma som jag ibland tog med till skolan. Jag lärde mig snart att vira bomullsvadden runt ett kvastskaft och stack in vadd i örat till både höger och vänster. Vid flera tillfällen tog bomullsvadden slut, så vad gjorde jag? Jag använde locket på min BIC penna istället. Detta lock blev min närmsta följeslagare i flera år. Hade jag inget annat på mig så hade jag locket till en blå, svart eller röd BIC penna som jag stack in i mina öron och grävde ut tonvis med vätska.

När jag senare i livet hittade bomullstopps använde jag dem istället. De hade de ett värde av guld för mig.

När jag ser tillbaka är jag så tacksam för allt bemödande min mamma la ner på att rengöra mina öron. Jag minns att hon varnade mig för skarpa föremål. Men ibland såg hon bara på mig med medlidande, för i mitt fall var det som att leva tillsammans med någon med ett missbruk. När begäret att stoppa något i mina öron dök upp fanns det inget i hela världen du kunde göra för att hindra mig.

Jag är också tacksam att mitt problem inte klassificerades som ett handikapp, eftersom i det avseendet kunde Nigeria ha förstört mig totalt. Jag hade tur att inte kategoriseras som någon i behov av specialundervisning på grund av mina hörselproblem.

Innan operationsdagen 1986 lärde jag mig att vakna klockan 05.00, ta bussen från vårt hem i Festac Town och resa till Allmänna sjukhuset beläget i Ikeja.  Vi, jag och min mamma, hoppade vanligtvis av Lagos gula buss vid hållplatsen med namn PWD och vandrade sedan utmed en bro hela vägen till sjukhuset.

Det var en obekväm resa. Den var inte heller helt säker eftersom det oftast var få personer på vägen där vi gick vid bron mot sjukhuset. Enligt min bedömning var hela resan ungefär fyra mil lång, kanske till och med fem. Det kunde ta oss en och en halv timme med minst två eller tre byten av olika bussförbindelser.

På operationsdagen lät min mamma mig göra resan på egen hand. Hon skulle anlända lite senare. Jag minns inte anledningen till det beslutet men antar att är du mamma till sex barn lär du dig snabbt att göra dem självständiga vid en lämplig ålder. Jag skulle kunna föreställa mig att jag vann min självständighet när läkarna väl bestämde att korrigera mina öron med en operation. När jag kom fram till sjukhuset mötte jag sjuksköterskorna och gjorde den nödvändiga registreringen. Sedan väntade jag. Och jag väntade, väntade och väntade.

Efter att jag blev tveksam till den ovanligt långa väntetiden frågade jag sköterskorna när det var min tur att bli omhändertagen? Svaret jag fick då kom som en chock jag aldrig kommer glömma. Det här sjukhuset hade jag besökt åtskilliga gånger tillsammans med min mamma, jag var en återkommande patient. Till exempel en gång när ett litet fiskben fastnade i min hals under en utsökt måltid och min mamma tog mig till öron-näs-hals på Allmänna sjukhuset i Ikeja, kände jag redan till den avdelningen lika väl som min egen handflata.

Så därför när sköterskorna, denna ödesdigra dag, svarade mig att de inte kunde hitta min journal med dokumentationen som fastställt min operation trodde jag det var ett enkelt misstag av felplacering. Jag antog att de skulle hitta den och att mina öron sedan skulle opereras.

När min mamma anlände blev hon mycket upprörd. Hon gav mig en tillrättavisande örfil för att uttrycka sin ilska. Jag kan inte minnas någon annan dag, varken innan eller efter denna ödesdigra dag, då min mamma slagit mig. Hon gjorde aldrig det. Därför blev jag nu mycket förvirrad. Det var ju sköterskorna som inte kunde hitta min journal. Vem borde då bli slagen?

När jag tänker tillbaka på hela det scenariot, kan jag bara gissa mig till olika skäl att min journal försvann. Ett är att sköterskorna förmodligen blev chockade att en pojke dök upp själv inför sin operation. Var fanns min mamma som skulle betala dricks så att journalen inte försvann denna viktiga dag? Eller, sett ur ett annat perspektiv, räknade personalen med att min familj skulle ha kontaktat dem i förhand med förskottsbetalning innan operationsdagen? Hur väl förstod mina föräldrar att sådana här möjligheter måste säkerställas genom att hålla koll på sjuksköterskor och doktorer för att undvika besvikelser?

Varför försvann min journal på operationsdagen? Ett tredje skäl kan vara att läkarna inte var kapabla att utföra denna operation och därför drog sig ur?  Det sista påståendet är rätt osannolikt eftersom mina minnen porträtteras en rad kompetenta, professionella läkare och undersökt mina trumhinnor, öroninfektioner och hals med instrument och redskap på öppenvårdsmottagningen.

Så, varför kom inte läkarna ihåg min bokning? En operation borde ju inte vara så lätt att glömma? Varför kom inte läkarna till väntrummet för att leta efter mig? Sa sjuksköterskan att jag inte dykt upp? Vad var det egentligen som gick fel?

Min mamma smällde till mig eftersom att hon fann mig sitta lugn och samlad, trots det troliga scenariot att missa ett tillfälle att korrigera mina defekta öron som man bara får en gång i livet. Hon visste säkert med en gång att chansen inte skulle komma igen. Många saker måste farit genom hennes huvud när hon kom för att höra de dåliga nyheterna gällande mina öron. Den enklaste vägen för att ge utlopp för sin frustration var slaget jag fick. Hon trodde troligen att jag bara kom dit och satte mig ner utan någon ansträngning. Men vad kan en fjortonåring göra när de äldre sköterskorna kastat eller gömt hans medicinska journal?

Jag kan inte minnas att jag någonsin var arg på min mamma. Hon var min gudinna. Hon var kvinnan som lärde mig nästan allt – att läsa, att skriva och sedan att laga mat. Min mamma lärde mig vara ödmjuk och uthållig trots de svårigheter och motgångar man möter i livet.

Så vi åkte hem. Det blev ingen operation år 1986. Jag fortsatte att sticka in allt i mina öron för att få ut vätskor och för att skrapa öronen när de kliade. Vid något tillfälle använde jag pinnar och kvastar för att skrapa ut smuts som fastnat på mina trumhinnor. Jag var expert på mina öron. Som öronläkare skulle jag varit den bästa i hela världen. Jag minns en dag när jag pillade i mitt öra med ett skaft och någon plötsligt sprang in i mig. Det började blöda från mitt öra och jag fick därmed en ny möjlighet att sticka in fler föremål för att få ut blodet. Mitt missbruk var hopplöst.

Jag har levt i Sverige sedan 2002 med ett fortsatt lidande av återkommande öroninfektioner på grund av mina trumhinnors sårbarhet. En dag när jag besökte läkaren rekommenderade han en operation. Mina öron hade testats under en period och resultaten var förkrossande. Jag har fått anstränga mig nästan hela livet för att kunna höra vad människor säger. Resultaten jag såg visade tröskeln för normal hörsel jämfört med min. Jag har varit döv!

Så år 2007, tjugoett år efter att sjuksköterskorna på Allmänna sjukhuset i Ikeja sabbade min då planerade operation, fick jag äntligen min öronoperation i Sverige. I ena örat var hörseln redan borta vid det laget! Efter operationen blev det örat det bättre av de två. Vilket betyder att i det bättre örat innan jag opererades saknades redan hörseln. Öronen var helt enkelt döva till olika grader. Operationen utfördes på Danderyds sjukhus i Sverige.

Till ålderdomens höst, som snabbt närmar sig, kan jag ana vad mina största utmaningar kommer bli. Jag har en dålig höft efter att ha spelat fotboll i tonåren and kommer definitivt inte kunna gå ordentligt. Jag får använda hjälp. Jag kommer också vara nästan döv på bägge öronen. Hörapparater finns att erhålla men om de är lämpliga för just min dövhet blir intressant att upptäcka.

Jag bestämde mig för att skriva detaljerat om min hörselskada eftersom det avslöjar mycket om Nigerias folkhälsoproblem. Jag vet inte hur mitt sjukdomsfall behandlades som litet barn. Kunde jag opererats redan som bebis och därmed botats för resten av livet? Det är troligt. Men med tiden blev jag medveten om, att trots tillgången till ett bra hälso- och sjukvårdssystem i Nigeria fram till 1980-talet, fanns luckor i systemet som gjorde det svårt att korrigera min hörselskada. Den delen var olycklig.

En operation blev bortslarvad. En vän sa till mig att min död på läkarbordet var uppskjuten! Men jag litade på sjukvårdssystemet i Nigeria 1986 även om sjuksköterskorna var illasinnade. Jag skyller den sabbade operationen på dem, jag tycker inte de var genuina och det är ledsamt att minnas nu.

Så hur är det nuvarande läget gällande hälso- och sjukvård i Nigeria? Med ett ord, katastrof! Nigerianska politiker och beslutsfattare måste tänka på medborgarna och arbeta hårt för att säkerställa att sjukvårdssystemet förbättras och anpassas till efterfrågan från den omfattande lant- och tätortsbefolkningen. Den vanliga medborgaren måste ges förmånen att kunna ha råd med ett sjukvårdssystem där livet prioriteras.

Som tonåring riskerade jag mitt liv och reste flera mil. Sedan gick jag längs vägarna till läkarna i Lagos i Nigeria. Jag är mannen med de gyllene öronen.

Om en nigeriansk politiker, vilket inkluderar presidenten, önskar resa utomlands för medicinska skäl bör de hindras från att göra det. I ett land med mer än 170 miljoner människor borde politiker som inte kan leverera avskedas. De förtjänar till och med min mammas tillrättavisande örfil.


From the original text, The Boy With The Golden Ears by Adeola Aderounmu, 2016.

Translated to Swedish language by Louise Holmberg, Stockholm, 2018.

The Madrilenian And Other Musings of Adeola, A Book Review

The Madrilenian and other musings of Adeola will provide a delightful read. The book is a collection of short stories and essays.

The Madrilenian And Other Musings of Adeola

By Adeola Aderounmu


The Madrilenian and other musings of Adeola

The Madrilenian and other musings of Adeola is a collection of short stories and essays. The titles in the book are:

No Love Lost

The Madrilenian

The Dream

The Kings Are Mad

The African Woman

Why Men Should Cook

Paying It Forward

Spanish Lullabies


No Love Lost is a story of a young lady, Lucy, who seemed to have all a young woman could dream of. However there was a vacuum in her life because she has not experienced true love.

One rainy day, she met a young man named Paul whose presence in her life became a stimulant to finding her way. In the end it was a twist of fate for both Lucy and Paul. While Lucy eventually found love, Paul’s relationship with his long term girlfriend-Stella, hit the rock.

The Madrilenian was about a boy who had a troubled childhood. Pablo lived together with his parents and 3 elder sisters in Catalonia. He didn’t get along well with his family at home and he was an introvert at school. Fortunately his social problems did not affect his academic progress, so he was able to get on with his life and later on worked as an engineer in Girona.

The Madrilenian took a dramatic twist when Pablo at about aged 30, went to Moscow on holiday. A new character who would change Pablo’s life forever appeared in the script. The Madrilenian is a story of love, hope and determination.

In The Dream I took my readers into the life of a young man called Olawale. He had a dream. But when he woke up, he had forgotten the dream. So he was very upset and unsettled for about a week or so.

How did he remember the dream? Well, he took a long, quiet walk in the forest. He went close to nature and nature revealed to him what his dream was all about. He also found a letter in the forest and in it he found out some of the basic secret of life.

The Kings Are Mad is a story where I tried to find a way to draw attention to some of the problems in Nigeria. The story can as well be a setting in any troubled African country where the economic fortunes have dwindled over the years especially after obtaining independence from the colonialists.

There were 3 major characters in The Kings Are Mad. Mama Esan is a typical trader in Oshodi whose children are out of school because her husband had been jobless for more than half a decade. She became troubled because she had no permanent place to sell her wares and the downturn in the economy destroyed her business.

It was a similar fate for Chinedu who came from the East to seek better fortunes in the West. In the beginning, things were rosy and bright. But since 1993, things have taken a turn for the worse and he could hardly take care of his family. He was divided in his thoughts-whether to go back to his village or to do illegal business to patch his wretchedness.

The third main character in The Kings Are Mad was Bawa. His family was involved in business and this took him to the West quite frequently. Sadly he found his way to the terror network.

In the end he became a confused man because he misunderstood the difference between religion-which is a man’s relationship with his creator and fighting for freedom-which is man’s relationship to his existence.

In The Kings Are Mad, we saw rulers who didn’t care about the people. They took the people for granted. We saw a people, culturally diverse and also divided in opinions so much that they did not know how to wrestle power from the greedy elites. They-the people-do not yet know how freedom tastes.

The African Woman is a chapter dedicated to the true Nigerian woman. She could also have been any other woman from any part of Africa who despite the challenges that she faced daily still managed to take care of the children and keep the house running.

The African Woman becomes even more relevant against the recent denigration of women by the Nigerian lawmakers who have refused to uplift the status of women in the country. It is about time women are given the same rights as men in Nigeria and in fact all over the world.

Personally, l wish more women would understand the need for them to stand up, unite and fight for what is theirs because in a country like Nigeria especially, freedom and rights will not be served on a platter of gold.

In continuation of the plights of women, l wrote Why Men Should Cook to clamour for support for the family as the most important unit in any society. In many African settings and even as a result of distortion of both culture and religion, many people still think that a man is a strange object in the kitchen.

Why Men Should Cook emphasized the importance of taking turns in the kitchen and how such a hobby/role can actually help a man to find peace with himself and his family. The chapter also argued for the benefits of family planning and planned parental leave.

Paying It Forward is an essay about how to start and pay forward good deeds. In the Swedish society and even in any society at all, it is quite easy to stereotype people. Here l told a few stories of how people have paid forward or appreciated good deeds.

The human race would have less problems and almost no worries if people live their lives with due consideration to the rights and happiness of other people around them

The last chapter in the book is Spanish Lullabies. It is a story of how racism has eaten deep into the Spanish society. In the 1960s or even up to the 90s, Spain may have been the haven for Africans seeking to settle outside the African or American continents.

But things have changed and Africans have been wrongly stereotyped, not only in Spain but in many places around the world. So there are limited opportunities for Africans in the Diaspora generally.

The Spanish Lullabies highlights the plights of some Africans in Spain and how their dreams have been dashed because of racism. Is it a coincidence or a direct consequence of this hatred for the African race that Spain and even Italy are among the worst economies in Western Europe?

In general the book-The Madrilenian and other musings of Adeola-should provide a delightful read. The book will be officially launched in Sweden on June 18, 2016.

A release is planned for Nigeria later in the year and the book will be available on Amazon Kindle amongst other planned E-book release.

May the glory of Nigeria come, soon!

May the human race keep walking the earth, shoulders high!

Yoruba Union Stockholm Celebrates 4th Annual Yoruba Day

On Saturday the 7th of May 2016 the Yoruba Union in Stockholm, Sweden marked her 4th annual Yoruba Day celebration.


By Adeola Aderounmu

Yoruba Union Stockholm Celebrates 4th Annual Yoruba Day


On Saturday the 7th of May 2016 the Yoruba Union in Stockholm, Sweden marked her 4th annual Yoruba Day celebration.


Adeola Aderounmu delivering the welcome address at the 4th annual Yoruba Day in Sweden

The event took place at Alviks Culture House near central Stockholm. Members started arriving from 4 p.m. Family, friends, guests and visitors started arriving as early as 5:15 p.m. The union maintained her reputation by starting the program according to plans at exactly 6p.m.

The special guest of honour at the event was the Nigerian ambassador to Sweden, Finland, Norway, Denmark and Finland, Her Excellency Jane Ada Ndem. The father of the day was Baba Kadiri Salimonu.


The Nigerian ambassador to Sweden, Denmark, Norway and Finland Her Excellency Jane Ada Ndem giving her speech at the 4th annual Yoruba Day in Sweden

The annual celebration of Yoruba culture and tradition by the Yoruba Union in Stockholm is now the biggest event for Yorubas on the Scandinavia. As it stands the Yoruba Day in Stockholm-Sweden is probably the most genuine and largest gathering for the celebration of Yoruba tradition in Europe so far this year.


Baba Salimonu Kadiri

The Yoruba Union in Stockholm is a non-profit and a non-political group. It is very important to know that the most significant role of the union is to preserve, protect and propagate the Yoruba culture and tradition in Sweden and the rest of the Diaspora. The group is independent and has no affiliation to any other socio-cultural groups or association within or outside Sweden.

During his welcome address Mr. Adeola Aderounmu stressed that the Union is in dire need of sponsors but that will not leave any room open for political affiliation or hijack of purpose as the executives and the general members are resolved and determined to always remain clear of politics and economic gains.

The Yoruba Union therefore hopes that major corporate organisations in Nigeria and even in Sweden can step forward to sponsor the union. Yoruba Union in Stockholm has activities and events that are outlined on her social network pages and website.


The Executive of the Yoruba Union in Stockholm. Samuel Oladipupo Ayoola, Funmileyi Adenuga, Debo Fasheyi, Adeola Aderounmu, Abiola Kamoru Amos, Lydia Akinwale and Ibrahim Onifade 

The annual Yoruba Day celebrated in the month of May since 2013 is the biggest event. The others are the children’s day in May or June and the family day in August.

The union has a website that is updated every now and then. The most active social network avenue is the YOU-TUBE channel called Yoruba Union Stockholm.

It is on record that the union has represented not just the Yorubas but also the country Nigeria at major events here in Sweden. The most recent before the Yoruba Day was the union’s presence at the Stockholm Cultural Night where dances and songs were on display. The union also presented a tour guide on the creation story according to Yoruba mythology.


Samuel Akinwole, Ibukun Ogunnoiki, Salimonu Kadidir, Abiola Amos, Amb. Jane Ndem, Olarewaju Omogunloye, Debo Fasheyi and Adeola Aderounmu

Moreover, on May 25 2016 the Yoruba Union will perform at the annual African Day celebration in Sweden. This is a day set aside by African heads of missions and ambassadors to celebrate Africa and Africans in Sweden.


Guests, families and friends


Guests, families and friends


Guests, families and friends


Guests, families and friends


Guests, families and friends

Since the inauguration and the registration of the union in 2010 in Sweden, majority of the funding have come from members annual fees and members donations towards events. It has been quite tough functioning that way, but somehow the union remained focused and determine to continue to keep the Yoruba tradition and culture alive.

Gradually, Yoruba children born in Sweden and even citizens of other countries are grasping the importance and significance that the Yorubas attach to their heritage and the process of passing it on to them is on course.


Adowa dancers from Ghana, Theresa Pettersson and Eunice Fenteng

For example at this 2016 celebration, the children could be heard singing and playing instruments to the traditional Yoruba songs, l’abe igi orombo. The next challenge is to create a forum for the teaching and learning of the language under a well planned atmosphere in a living classroom. The union will get there!

There were other items on the program like the Yoruba cultural dance led by Olarewaju Omogunloye. Guest performances were done by the Igbo Cultural Group in Stockholm and the Ghana Adowa dancers led by Eunice Fenteng.

During the program, guests and friends were called upon to dance. Dancing during ceremonies or festivals is a key part of the Yoruba heritage. Yoruba dishes were served and all the guests and visitors expressed their satisfaction with the organisation of the events.


Igbo Cultural Dancers, Stockholm-Sweden

This year’s ceremony was anchored by Lydia Akinwale and Amos Kamoru Adams. The Yoruba mythology creation story was presented by Ibrahim Onifade.

Other coordinators were Samuel Oladipupo Ayoola, Richard Obadimu and Funmileyi Adenuga.

The vote of thanks was given by Debo Fasheyi.

Yoruba Union Stockholm is regarded as one of the most organised African ethnic group in Sweden and people are already looking forward to the 2017 annual Yoruba Day celebration.



Yoruba symbolic cake


Cake maker Debbie Atinuke Mckintosh explaining the symbolic cake

For information about the Yoruba Union in Stockholm-Sweden, send an email to

Visit our website,

Visit our Youtube channel,

Visit our facebook page,

Oodua a gbe wao!


There was dancing in line with Yoruba culture


More dancing



Nigerian Embassy, Stockholm Sweden

SENSUS Studieforbund, Stockholm

Baba Salimonu Kadiri

Clara and John Rogo

Chinedu Oji

Charles Ogunlowo

Charles Onuora, for Igbo Cultural group participation

Eunice Fenteng and Theresa Pettersson, for Ghana Cultural group participation

All Members of Yoruba Union in Sweden


Paying It Forward: The Way I want To Live

In this story l want to share some real life experiences of paying forward.

Paying It Forward: The Way I want To Live

By Adeola Aderounmu

One day my phone rang 5 minutes after l returned home from a shopping mall. I had done the weekly grocery shopping for the family at a store barely 2 km from our home.

I picked up the phone and the voice at the other end was not a familiar one just as the number also did not turned up any name. Have you been shopping at the store today? The voice asked. Yes l just came home, l replied.

Can you check your wallet if you are missing something? Sure l said and immediately knew something was wrong. Yeaaaa….l said….one of my credit cards is missing.

I have it, he said.

Another 5 minutes l met the man at the store and he gave me back my credit card.

How did you find me, l asked full of curiosity.

When l saw your name, l sent a text message to my son and he looked up your contact information on the address book online. That’s how l got your number, he concluded.

I was short of words. It came to me at as a shock. The speed at which he got in touch with me gave me the conviction that he didn’t think twice about what to do when he found my credit card.

He could have gone on a spending spree and l wouldn’t have known until the next day or the next time l need the card.

I was so convinced of the man’s honesty that l kept using the credit card until it expired. I mean l was not afraid that he could have copied the number and the 3-digit security code at the back.

I was pleased.

When we exchanged pleasantry further with each other, he told me that he migrated to Sweden from Iraq many years ago.

We shook hands and l drove back home. I explained to my wife and she smiled. We were both pleased.

I know that when you talk about righteousness that l cannot claim to be holy. But l am sure that l do the best l can. I try to radiate love and to show people that l care.

I have paid forward so many acts of kindness that have been done to me.

I have asked friends and acquaintances to pay forward, but not all the time. Sometimes l need some things back so l can carry on with a normal life as well.

Just two weeks ago, l was at another shop where they sell stuffs they claimed come from all over the world. I found Nigerian plantain there, so their claim may be true.

On this particular day, an elderly woman was ahead of me and she had paid for all her grocery and stuffs. She was packing her things and had forgotten to remove her credit card from the payment machine.

The machine was positioned so that the cashier does not see if the card has been removed or not. The idea is that cashier do not see your codes when you make a payment.

Luckily for this elderly woman she was still packing her things when l wanted to insert my own credit card. It went quickly because l bought only 2 or 3 items. So l took her credit card and handed it over to her.

She was pleased.

On my way out, l said to her trevlig helg! (have a nice weekend) and she replied tack detsamma! (thanks, l wish you the same).

I didn’t think twice when l had the chance to hand over the elderly woman’s credit card. She has completely forgotten it in the machince.

I could not waste the chance to represent. I mean l grew up in Nigeria and we were raised to be good, to be kind and to be helpful.

In my family especially my father always say, remember the son of whom you are.

I am so ashame of all the negative news about criminals in Nigerian government and the stupidity of Nigerian politicians.

I am not going to be a perfect man or claim that l am a righteous man but l do my best.

Last week, precisely on the 4th of december 2015 l was on my bicycle  about 2 km away from home when l noticed something unusual on the ground, so l stopped.


Cold Autumn Morning in November, Sweden

If you don’t know how it is in Sweden at this time of the year, then it will be hard to comprehend the cold, dark, winter mornings.

On this day it was cold and raining.  So l had every reason to hurry up to work. I should ignore every object that intends to distract me.

When l stopped my bicycle, l looked down at the dark object lying on the wet ground on this dark morning. It turned out to be a mobile phone. It is a Samsung-Galaxy S5.


The Samsung S-5 l found on the ground on my way to work

The first thing l did when l got to work was to check the mobile phone out properly. Luckily l could access the phone by just swipping the screen. Luckily too the owner had a facebook account where l saw a home-telephone number.

10 hours after l found the phone it was reunited with its owner.

She was very happy and she brought a gift when she came to our house to collect her phone.

choco_plant_1 (2)

The Gift l got in appreciation

I do not know what she and her husband whom l got at the other end of the phone in the morning have discussed but the gifts she brought gave volume to their thoughts. I accepted the chocolate and the special seasonal plant that she presented to me. (see pictures)

This is the way l want to live.

This type of paying forward is what makes the world go round.

I hope Charlotte is as impressed as l was when a man from Iraq gave me back my credit card which l had forgotten in a shopping wagon as l hurriedly left the store.

I hope that that elderly woman at the global market store was impressed that some of us are in this country not just because of what we gain from the country but also because we are good people who can contribute our bits to make the country a better place to live.

We came here to learn and to share our experiences too. Now Sweden is our home too.

We are good people.

I can recall that l have been good in uncountable ways both at work and at play.

Some people have touched my lives both in Nigeria and here in Sweden. l have tried so hard to pay forward by touching other people’s lives positively. But we soon learn that we cannot please everybody and some people will make good deeds look like divine favours. They don’t pay back and they don’t pay forward.

I have always thought of writing for the rest of my life, because everyday in my head, there is always a chapter that is left unwritten out of my life’s experiences- at home, work, with friends, families and the people l see everyday on the train, on the bus, and everywhere l go.

The way l live and work have given me adequate shield and buffer from the negativity that surrounds me. For examples, all those extra hours l have spent on my students since 1990, without pay, are the ones that count most.

For it is at those times that l have gone out of my comfort zone to give my students the extra help and support that they need.

I am happy when they find the motivation with which they succeed in the moment and subsequently obtaining the momentum that keeps them going throughout life.

This is the way l want to live-full of content and paying forward all the good deeds.

In my view, this is part of the secret of authentic happiness. It adds meaning to our lives.