. . . Inside the Glorious Sendforth of Professor Jeremiah Ojediran
“Every remarkable journey deserves a fitting celebration.”
So reads the opening line of the commemorative brochure, and never has a truer sentence been printed. For six days in late July, the red-brick walkways of Bells University of Technology, Ota, became a procession of gratitude. There were hymns and handshakes, project plaques and poetry recitals, a tennis match and a torch passed. At the centre of it all stood one man: Professor Jeremiah Oludele Ojediran, the quiet engineer who spent a decade turning a young private university into a model of technological education in West Africa.
The curtain rose on Sunday, 26th July, not with trumpets, but with prayer. The Interdenominational Thanksgiving Service at the BUPF International Conference Centre filled quickly. Staff, students, parents, and alumni squeezed into pews. When the choir sang, the rafters shook. Testimonies followed — not the polite, perfunctory kind, but raw, heartfelt stories of a Vice-Chancellor who remembered names, who visited sick staff in hospital, who ensured salaries hit accounts by the 25th of every month even when the ledger looked impossible.
By Monday, the tone shifted from sacred to celebratory. The Variety Day programme was pure Bellstech theatre: traditional dancers in swirling adire, a drama troupe restaging the university’s renaissance, a poetry recital that rhymed “Ojediran” with “visionary man.” A documentary, “The Journey of Excellence,” played on a giant screen. The audience watched in silence as images flickered by — labs reborn, accreditation certificates framed, students in New Horizons ICT gear, the NiMet partnership signing. Then came the awards. Colleges, departments, the Co-operative society, the student union, alumni — each presented gifts. The farewell cake was cut, and for a moment, the man of the hour looked down at his shoes, smiling that small, knowing smile of someone who understands that the real prize was never the plaque, but the people.
Tuesday belonged to the brick and mortar. Chief Olusegun Obasanjo arrived with his characteristic vigour, and the campus paused. One by one, he commissioned the monuments: Prof. J. O. Ojediran Hall — a building now bearing the name of the man who built so many others; the A.I. Centre, fruit of a partnership that placed Bellstech at the frontier of meteorological technology; the Adenuga Library, expanding the university’s intellectual frontier; roads and utilities that students will walk for decades without knowing the battles fought to pave them.
“We did not come to administer; we came to build,” Prof. Ojediran reportedly told colleagues at the Nigerian Society of Engineers Special Monthly Meeting held in his honour that afternoon. “And if the next generation finds the ground firmer than we found it, then our debt is paid.”
Wednesday offered respite. The LAUTECH Staff Tennis Club — old comrades from his days as Deputy Vice-Chancellor in Ogbomoso came all the way to play a match in his honour., and later, under the floodlights of the Sports Complex, Team Vice-Chancellor faced Team Bursar in a novelty football match that ended 1 – 1. The score mattered to no one. The laughter did.
But perhaps the most profound moment of the send forth happened not on campus but at the palaces of the two royal fathers visited on farewell visits. The outgoing Vice-Chancellor paid a final courtesy call on His Majesty, Professor Adeyemi Obalanlege, Ph.D., the Olota of Ota, accompanied by his Bursar, Principal Officers, and Elder Tunde Kasali of the Board of Trustees. What began as protocol evolved into something far more significant. The ancient throne room of the Awori Kingdom became a stage for royal recognition. The Olota, himself a scholar of considerable repute, did not mince words in praising the “remarkable transformation” that had redefined Bells University. And then, in a gesture that transformed a farewell into a coronation, he bestowed upon Professor Ojediran the prestigious traditional title of “Asiwaju Baamowe of Ota” — Leader of the Wise Ones.
The same accolade, played out at the palace of Elegushi of Egushiland, Oba Maroof Alagbe as he also conferred on Prof. Ojediran the title of Aare Onimo of Egushiland while the outgoing Bursar Mr. Sina Adepoju was conferred with the title of Otun Aare Onimo of Egushiland. Their spouses that accompanied them also bagged the Yeye version of each chieftaincy titles of the their respective husbands.
For a man who had guided Nigeria’s premier private university of technology through a period of profound growth, there could be no more fitting epithet. The Olota prayed for long life, robust health, and the divine grace to savour the fruits of years spent in tireless service. And as the ancient stool spoke, it ensured that Professor Ojediran’s departure from Bells University was not an ending, but a beginning — of a new chapter in a life already rich with achievement, now crowned with the enduring prestige of royal recognition.
Thursday restored academic solemnity. The Senate met in statutory session, then reconvened for a Special Senate Session. Senators spoke of balanced books and expanded budgets, of academic rigour restored, of a culture where excellence was not demanded but nurtured. They spoke, too, of Mr. Sina Adepoju, the Bursar whose quiet stewardship of the university’s finances since 2016 made every brick possible.
Then came Friday — the Grand Finale.
The academic procession entered the BUPF International Conference Centre at 9:40 a.m. Members of the Board of Trustees, Council Members, Principal Officers with Traditional rulers in their regal splendour and finally, the outgoing and incoming Vice-Chancellors and Bursars.
The incoming leader cut a striking figure. Professor Abel Olajide Olorunnisola is no stranger to the weight of an institution. A registered Agricultural Engineer and Fellow of the Nigerian Society of Engineers, he had previously served as Vice-Chancellor of Dominion University, Ibadan, where in just four years he secured full NUC accreditation for all programmes, established a brand-new Faculty of Allied Health Sciences, and landed a 500,000-Euro Erasmus+ grant for staff-student exchange with Greek universities. A prolific researcher with 11 books, 93 journal articles, and a Google Scholar h-index of 19, he has supervised 18 Ph.D. theses and holds a patent for a briquetting machine. His international footprint spans Northwestern University in the USA, the University of Pirassununga in Brazil, and ISO standard-setting meetings in Jakarta, Addis Ababa, and Manila.
The programme was meticulous: citations, goodwill messages from the Promoter, Council, Parents’ Forum, and special guests. Then the documentary again—this time with fresh eyes, knowing it was now history, not merely reportage. At noon, the books were launched.
The handover itself was simple, almost stark in its symbolism. The gown. The flag. The mace. The master plan. One leader placing the university’s future into the next pair of hands with the same care he had used to receive it ten years before.
Professor Olorunnisola’s vision for BellsTech is anchored on three pillars: boosting investible funds, re-engineering the University to lead national technological advancement, and enhancing its international profile. He has pledged transparent leadership, fiscal discipline, vigorous revenue generation, and the full digital governance implementation targeted by the University’s 2026–2031 Development Plan. “BellsTech is navigating between the differentiation and monopoly stages of the university lifecycle,” he reiterated. “I am committed to steering it towards developed, world-class status within five years.”
In his farewell address, Prof. Ojediran did not dwell on statistics. Those were already etched in stone and spreadsheets. Instead, he spoke of people. “An institution is not its buildings,” he said, “It is the spirit of those who walk its corridors. I leave the buildings to the architects, but the spirit — the spirit belongs to all of you.”
The recessional hymn played. The anthem swelled. And as the procession filed out into the Ota sunshine, the Bells of the university seemed, to many, to ring a little louder.
Later, at the Temperance Hotel, guests broke bread. And at 2:00 p.m., at the Bellstech Mosque, Muslim faithfuls offered prayers — a beautiful symmetry to the Christian thanksgiving that had opened the week, and perhaps the perfect metaphor for a tenure that united rather than divided.
He arrived in 2016 to low morale from salary arrears and a great expectation; he leaves with fully accredited programmes, Times Higher Education recognition, a Top 2% African researcher ranking, a royal chieftaincy, and a campus transformed. But the numbers, impressive as they are, miss the point.
The point is the graduate who now works in Dubai because of a Bellstech-NiMet certification. The point is the professor who finally got promoted after years of stagnation. The point is the road, the hall, the library, the bakery, the AI centre — all bearing silent witness that someone cared enough to finish what he started.
. . . Only the best is good for Bells.
. . . And for ten years, the best is exactly what he gave.