The Challenges of Tracing the Nigerian Alumni at HFBK Hamburg: Between 1963 – 1978

Akinjobi Olu (Lagos State) – 1963-1971
Erinmilokun Onayemi (Lagos State) – 1972-1978
Omovbude Daniel (Ekpoma in Edo State) – 1966-1968

Stepping into the stairs leading to HFBK Hamburg, I wondered how different the next few months would be like. I had just arrived from Nigeria to stay and teach in Hamburg for five months. I was intrigued by a project that dedicated itself to the academy’s international alumni, so I went along. I peered down at a list filled with names of people and a few details about their times at HFBK Hamburg; people who once walked these same paths that I was threading. I imagined what their experience was like, as I was just about to start creating mine.

“You don’t know where you are going, unless you know where you’ve been.” A popular quote of civil rights activist Dr Maya Angelou’s resonated with me to join in on the TIAA project. Charity begins at home, they say, so I started with the familiar. I quickly scanned the list, much like I would do when watching movie credits, searching for Nigerian names. It’s a habit I developed – looking for a sense of representation, a reminder that we are making an impact on the international scene. I wasn’t necessarily looking for anyone I knew personally, just someone I could identify with through a shared country of origin. Only three names were Nigerian. Three out of a hundred wasn’t much, but it was better than none at all.

I had tasked myself with finding these HFBK alumni from Nigeria using the internet, particularly using search engines and social media. First thing I noticed was that all three of them seemed to be males. It may not seem like a big deal, but maybe because I myself, being female, tend to look out for those minor details in certain groups just to get a feel of representation. The fact that all students were male could be a reflection of an era when art in Nigeria was a male-dominated industry, mirroring a time when education for the girl child wasn’t widely encouraged beyond primary school. Women were often relegated to domestic roles, expected to bear children, keep the home, and cater to their families. Even those who were educated often got married, changed their names to their husbands’ last name; this would have made it harder to trace their academic and professional trajectories. In this case, however, all three alumni explicitly identified as male, eliminating that challenge.

Before beginning my online search, I first subtracted their date of birth from their year of admission just to estimate how old they might be now. This provided insight into the era they were raised in, potentially shedding light on societal factors that may have influenced their careers. In Nigeria, where birth records have not always been accurately documented, informal methods were often used to determine school readiness. One such method involved a child reaching over their head to touch the opposite ear – a practice that, due to biological differences, sometimes resulted in delayed school enrolment. This means some of these alumni may be older than my initial estimates, adding another layer of complexity to tracing their journeys.

From their names alone, I could make an educated guess about their states of origin. Two of them, Erinmilokun Onayemi and Akinjobi Olu, were listed as being from Lagos State, while Omovbude Daniel was from Ekpoma, Edo State (formerly Bendel State before the 1991 split into Edo and Delta States). However, these state designations could be misleading. Lagos is Nigeria’s smallest state by land area (1,171 km²), but one of its most densely populated. It is common for people to claim Lagos as their place of origin simply because they live there or because it was their point of departure for other countries such as Germany. Similarly, Edo State spans 17,802 km², making it difficult to locate someone without additional details such as their hometown or local government area.

Another challenge arose from name commonalities. Some Yoruba surnames often reflect family lineage, history, or geographical origins. Some are derived from the prefix “Olu,” which is short for “Oluwa” and can mean “God,” “deity,” or “lord.” Names like “Oluwale” (meaning “My God/Lord has come home”) and “Oluwatoyin” (“God is worthy to be praised”) are common, making it difficult to differentiate between individuals, coupled with the fact that no pictures accompanied the list. For example, my online search for Akinjobi Olu, led me to a Samuel Olu Akinjobi who although they share similar names (excluding the English name Samuel) seemed like an entirely different individual, with no background in art but in civil aviation. Samuel Akinjobi Olu got recognized as an Officer of the Order of the British Empire (OBE) from the Governor-General of British-Nigeria, Sir James Wilson Robertson, for his long and devoted service in the field of civil aviation, in 1959 – hence the mention and probably the reason he came out top on the search engine. I figured he was probably not the artist I was searching for. This highlights that name similarities can complicate research.

Tracing these individuals through cultural institutions and museums also proved challenging. Many Nigerian cultural institutions have only recently emerged alongside the rise of social media and tend to focus on prominent historical figures. I reached out to the Yoruba Cultural Heritage Centre, which had previously posted about Samuel Akinjobi Olu (the aviator), to inquire about Akinjobi Olu, the artist. I have not received a reply yet. However, I doubt they would have records of him unless he had made significant contributions to the art world.

The biggest challenge, however, was the lack of a digital footprint. Many Nigerians who studied abroad before the digital era may have returned home unnoticed and undocumented. If these three alumni continued their art practice in Nigeria without access to the internet or social media, their work would have remained largely invisible. Alternatively, they may have transitioned into other careers or taken up corporate roles, blending into organizations where their artistic contributions were no longer highlighted.

All this posed a huge challenge for locating these three Nigerian HFBK Alumni who attended the university. Even thinking of it makes it even more frightening that a lot more Nigerians would have come home from international spaces like HFBK Hamburg, unnoticed, undocumented, and unrecognized. In tracing these three Nigerian HFBK alumni, I am reminded of the importance of ensuring the need for better documentation practices in Nigeria – but this is also a reminder to myself. Especially since we can now leave digital footprints due to the prevalence of the internet technology, with just the click of a button, some words and maybe a hashtag here and there, leaving a trail of breadcrumbs that leads right up to you. Ultimately, projects like TIAA are essential reminders for uncovering those past connections, narratives and acknowledging those who once walked their hallways; it might also inspire other institutions and organizations in maintaining comprehensive, well documented accessible records and data.