Seyi Tinubu at 40: The Humility of a Prince (Villa Boy 001) and The Hope of a Generation

There are few moments in one’s adult life when the heart admits, “Alright, maybe I was wrong.” For me, one such moment came with a handshake.

I’ll confess: I wasn’t exactly a fan of President Bola Ahmed Tinubu’s style of governance. Maybe it was the politics, maybe the headlines, or maybe it was just the weary skepticism that comes with being a Nigerian who has seen too many reform promises vanish in the humidity. So, when I first saw Seyi Tinubu stride into the Federal Inland Revenue Service (FIRS) premises—all poise, smiles, and that unmistakable Lagos confidence—I folded my arms mentally and thought, Let’s see what this one is made of.

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He could tell. I suspect he saw it in my eyes—the mild, polite disbelief. But then, he extended his hand and greeted me with such calm humility that it disarmed me. No airs. No “Do you know who my father is?” energy. Just a young man who listened, smiled, and left the room warmer than he found it.

It was my mentor, Dr. Zacch Adedeji, who completed the conversion. Under his quiet but transformative leadership at FIRS, I began to see the inner workings of this administration from a less cynical lens. Zacch, whom I call my compass of clarity, helped me understand that perhaps the Tinubu story wasn’t about dominance—it was about design. That there was a deeper architecture of inclusion and reform taking shape. Before I knew it, I don port—I was unconsciously echoing the street anthems: “Sai Jagaban!” “Omologo!” the way converts sometimes hum hymns without realizing it.

Seyi Tinubu (Villa Boy 001) at 40 is, by every measure, a fascinating paradox: a man born into influence but who carries himself like one still earning his place. He moves with the easy confidence of a prince but speaks with the disarming simplicity of a neighbor who might borrow your charger.

He has built bridges with the youth, injected energy into creative industries, and inspired hundreds through philanthropy that rarely seeks applause. But he’s not perfect—at least, not yet. His outreach to northern youths, for instance, needs a little more heart and a little less choreography. Too many yes-men orbit him like satellites, nodding even when the truth deserves a gentle shake of the head. Leadership, after all, flourishes best where honesty is not a rare currency.

Still, his closeness to Dr. Zacch Adedeji, his elder brother both by bond and by birth, is perhaps his biggest strength—a grounding influence in a city where power often intoxicates faster than champagne. Those who know Seyi’s circle, particularly the ever-loyal Mo 001, speak of him with the kind of affection reserved for someone who genuinely means well. Through them, I began to see what many in the Villa already know: that Seyi Tinubu is not just a son of legacy, but a student of service.

Turning forty is more than an age; it’s a checkpoint. It’s the decade when the mirror begins to ask quieter, more meaningful questions. And as Seyi joins the “fourth floor,” he does so with a blend of youth and wisdom that promises much. There’s talk—half in jest, half in hope—of someday seeing him in gubernatorial colors. For now, it’s enough to say that if the next generation of leadership in Nigeria must wear a face, it wouldn’t be far from his.

So here’s to Omologo, Villa Boy 001, and the son of Jagaban who has learned the fine art of humility in a world that often rewards noise.

May the fourth floor bless you with grace, courage, and a few more honest friends who say “no” when everyone else is clapping “yes.”

Happy 40th, Seyi Tinubu — you’ve made believers out of skeptics, and perhaps, that’s the rarest achievement of all.

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