News
VEBO NEWS: No Apologies — I’m in Love With Funke Egbemode..Top Journalist, Kunle Rasheed Declares
Date: 27-07-25
I’m not ashamed. No! Not even a little, to shout it from the rooftops that I am in love with the delectable, indomitable, and incredibly brilliant Funke Egbemode. A veteran journalist, a nurturing mother, and the former Osun State Commissioner for Information and Orientation, 'Auntie' Funke is the full package, a woman of substance and style.
Now, before you start thinking I just woke up from a sweet slumber to catch these feelings overnight—relax! This is no sudden crush.
I’ve been carrying this love quietly for a very long time. But now, I feel it’s time to let the world in on the truth that I have deep admiration for this phenomenal woman who once wore the crown as President of the Nigerian Guild of Editors with grace and grit.
Have I met her? Yes, a couple of times, back when I used to frequent the Daily Independent newsroom to see my former boss Charles Okogene and Seni Durojaiye, where she once worked as one of the editors before public service whisked her away. But I doubt she remembers my face, let alone my name. Maybe she has stumbled on a story or two of mine in this our noble hustle of pen-pushing, but I’m not sure she can place a face to the name Kunle Rasheed.
Still, I love her. Truly. Passionately. And this love? It’s not going anywhere. It’s as steady and potent as the salt in the sea, and it will remain that way till time calls it a day.
‘Auntie’ Funke is beautiful. Yes! Very beautiful. And she tends to herself so gracefully that her skin glows like koro ishin or polished edun ara ni kin pe ni? that rare kind of shine that holds its own even under the fiercest Lagos sun.
But beauty or status wasn’t the bait.
So, how did I fall in love with her?
It was her pen, her writing. Her words drew me in like a bee to honey. Her style has this rare blend of humour and depth. She dances with language. She teases the reader, then hits you with wisdom in the next breath. Her storytelling is not just skillful, it’s enchanting.
There’s something musical about her writing. Her flow is smooth, her tone deliberate, her rhythm addictive. She makes it all look so easy. And somehow, every single time, she serves you something rich for you to devour with pleasure. I’ve never read her and walked away hungry.
Yes, we have many fine writers in the field; many that I can’t just start mentioning, and I learn from them all. They’ve helped shape my own style of writing too. But Auntie Funke? She’s a category on her own.
A pen sorceress. A wordsmith with superpowers.
Now, I know some of you have already run off with assumptions about what my mission is with this, thanks to my dramatic headline. You're probably thinking this is some forbidden-romance-type gist. Chill abeg.
It’s not that kind of love. (But if Auntie Funke ever throws me a wink, who am I to say no to an inspirator? Lol.)
Truth be told, this isn't about romance. It’s all about reverence.
I fell in love with her pen, not with any intention of a romantic affair. The urge to write this heartfelt confession came mid-air, on a flight from Casablanca to Lagos, while reading one of her many brilliant essays. That day, it was one of her Intimate Affairs series. Typical Auntie Funke—she nailed it as usual with her witty, fearless, and layered approach.
By the time I was done, I shook my head in admiration and said to myself: This woman deserves a medal for writing.
And even if the world forgets to give her flowers, she should know Kunle Rasheed has one, specially reserved for her.
My dear pen queen, I have a flower for you. Just tell me the time and place to deliver it. But please, for now, don’t tell me to come to Abuja o. I can’t risk stepping into Minister Wike’s city just yet—not when a police officer just reminded me I once stood surety for someone who’s now missing in action. And with my full-blown claustrophobia (known well by my close circle), any form of confinement is pure haram, like the Mohammedans would say.
So, let’s keep the rendezvous within the safety of Lasgidi until Mr. Tibi miraculously reappears.
Until then, Auntie, keep being your brilliant self and keep serving that wordy delicacy that readers like me crave. Your stories are my soul food.
And as for this love? I won’t stop loving you.
This is still Kunle Rasheed, reporting live from his inner mind.
Date: 27-07-25
I’m not ashamed. No! Not even a little, to shout it from the rooftops that I am in love with the delectable, indomitable, and incredibly brilliant Funke Egbemode. A veteran journalist, a nurturing mother, and the former Osun State Commissioner for Information and Orientation, 'Auntie' Funke is the full package, a woman of substance and style.
Now, before you start thinking I just woke up from a sweet slumber to catch these feelings overnight—relax! This is no sudden crush.
I’ve been carrying this love quietly for a very long time. But now, I feel it’s time to let the world in on the truth that I have deep admiration for this phenomenal woman who once wore the crown as President of the Nigerian Guild of Editors with grace and grit.
Have I met her? Yes, a couple of times, back when I used to frequent the Daily Independent newsroom to see my former boss Charles Okogene and Seni Durojaiye, where she once worked as one of the editors before public service whisked her away. But I doubt she remembers my face, let alone my name. Maybe she has stumbled on a story or two of mine in this our noble hustle of pen-pushing, but I’m not sure she can place a face to the name Kunle Rasheed.
Still, I love her. Truly. Passionately. And this love? It’s not going anywhere. It’s as steady and potent as the salt in the sea, and it will remain that way till time calls it a day.
‘Auntie’ Funke is beautiful. Yes! Very beautiful. And she tends to herself so gracefully that her skin glows like koro ishin or polished edun ara ni kin pe ni? that rare kind of shine that holds its own even under the fiercest Lagos sun.
But beauty or status wasn’t the bait.
So, how did I fall in love with her?
It was her pen, her writing. Her words drew me in like a bee to honey. Her style has this rare blend of humour and depth. She dances with language. She teases the reader, then hits you with wisdom in the next breath. Her storytelling is not just skillful, it’s enchanting.
There’s something musical about her writing. Her flow is smooth, her tone deliberate, her rhythm addictive. She makes it all look so easy. And somehow, every single time, she serves you something rich for you to devour with pleasure. I’ve never read her and walked away hungry.
Yes, we have many fine writers in the field; many that I can’t just start mentioning, and I learn from them all. They’ve helped shape my own style of writing too. But Auntie Funke? She’s a category on her own.
A pen sorceress. A wordsmith with superpowers.
Now, I know some of you have already run off with assumptions about what my mission is with this, thanks to my dramatic headline. You're probably thinking this is some forbidden-romance-type gist. Chill abeg.
It’s not that kind of love. (But if Auntie Funke ever throws me a wink, who am I to say no to an inspirator? Lol.)
Truth be told, this isn't about romance. It’s all about reverence.
I fell in love with her pen, not with any intention of a romantic affair. The urge to write this heartfelt confession came mid-air, on a flight from Casablanca to Lagos, while reading one of her many brilliant essays. That day, it was one of her Intimate Affairs series. Typical Auntie Funke—she nailed it as usual with her witty, fearless, and layered approach.
By the time I was done, I shook my head in admiration and said to myself: This woman deserves a medal for writing.
And even if the world forgets to give her flowers, she should know Kunle Rasheed has one, specially reserved for her.
My dear pen queen, I have a flower for you. Just tell me the time and place to deliver it. But please, for now, don’t tell me to come to Abuja o. I can’t risk stepping into Minister Wike’s city just yet—not when a police officer just reminded me I once stood surety for someone who’s now missing in action. And with my full-blown claustrophobia (known well by my close circle), any form of confinement is pure haram, like the Mohammedans would say.
So, let’s keep the rendezvous within the safety of Lasgidi until Mr. Tibi miraculously reappears.
Until then, Auntie, keep being your brilliant self and keep serving that wordy delicacy that readers like me crave. Your stories are my soul food.
And as for this love? I won’t stop loving you.
This is still Kunle Rasheed, reporting live from his inner mind.
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