Lukmon Atobatele: From Boardrooms to Assembly

Amid the noisy political scenes and fading public trust, Ogun Deputy Minority Leader, Lukmon Atobatele, stands out for his people-first leadership. Reflecting his blend of Egba roots and corporate discipline, Adedayo Adejobi writes on how this lawmaker is backing purpose with  action. 

In  a sun-drenched corner of Abeokuta South, Honourable Lukmon Atobatele steps into a newly built classroom—a space he once feared might collapse during a local ward meeting. Today, sturdy walls and fresh paint replace the cracked cement and rusted roof that once symbolised government neglect.

“I couldn’t just sit and do nothing,” he says with quiet resolve.

It wasn’t campaign season. There were no cameras. Yet within a week, he mobilised personal resources to transform the structure.

“That moment,” he reflects, “was when I truly fell in love with grassroots politics.”

This act of service encapsulates the essence of the man now serving as Deputy Minority Leader of the Ogun State House of Assembly. His politics is not merely a vocation; it’s an extension of his values, shaped by years in the corporate sector, grounded in family tradition, and tested on the unforgiving terrain of Nigerian public life.

Born into a distinguished family in Abeokuta, Ogun State, Atobatele’s identity is deeply rooted in heritage. The son of High Chief Sikirulai Atobatele, the incumbent Balogun of Egbaland (Prime Minister), and the late  Bilikisu Atobatele, he grew up under the guiding presence of tradition, responsibility, and faith.

“I’m a true son of the soil,” he says proudly. “And that comes with expectations—not just to succeed, but to serve.”

Atobatele’s early years were spent navigating Lagos traffic to attend Ogba Primary School, before moving to Abeokuta Grammar School, where he completed his secondary education. In 1997, he enrolled at Ladoke Akintola University of Technology, earning a B.Tech in Applied Physics, and later, an MBA in Marketing Management from the same institution.

“Education was a gift my parents insisted I cherish,” he says. “They saw it as an investment—and they were right.”

For over two decades, Atobatele honed his acumen in Nigeria’s banking sector, working across institutions with an unblemished record.

“In banking,” he says, “your word is everything. Integrity is non-negotiable.” That ethical conduct would become the bedrock of his leadership.

While many are pulled into politics by opportunity, Atobatele’s journey was more contemplative—slow-brewed through experiences in entrepreneurship, construction, and community engagement. He founded Lukazai Nigeria Ltd, a multifaceted enterprise with interests spanning building, solid mineral exploration, and general merchandising. But beyond business, a stirring restlessness called him to public service.

“I was doing well in business,” he recalls, “but I wanted to be part of the solution, not just an observer. I wanted to be useful.”

Atobatele’s formal foray into politics began with the All Progressives Congress (APC). A visit to his first ward meeting, held in a near-collapsing classroom, shocked him. Rather than walk away disillusioned, he invested his funds to rebuild the venue, earning both admiration and loyalty at the grassroots.

“I didn’t get the ticket that year,” he says candidly. “But I didn’t stop contributing.”

When the People’s Democratic Party (PDP) approached him in 2022 during a candidate substitution window, he accepted the mantle. “It was divine timing,” he reflects. He contested and won, securing a mandate from a constituency weary of promises but hungry for action.

In an era when public trust in politicians ebbs away, Atobatele remains resolutely anchored in his upbringing. “I would never do anything to tarnish my father’s name,” he says. “My values and my faith keep me grounded.”

His religious and cultural titles—Dagunja of Egbaland, Jagunmolu of Igbeyin Land, and Baba Adini of several Islamic groups—reflect a deep connection to his roots. Yet they do not insulate him from criticism or scrutiny.

“In politics,” he notes, “you must live in glass houses. Every action counts.”

From subsidised food markets to emergency water provision, Atobatele’s approach to governance is unapologetically people-centred.

“I prefer to under-promise and over-deliver,” he says. “Abeokuta is a small place. My reputation is my currency.”

Healthcare is a priority that has shaped much of his legislative advocacy. “If I had executive powers,” he says emphatically, “I’d prioritise free medical care. These drugs are expensive—too many people are suffering in silence.”

He doesn’t wait for policy to catch up. On his initiative, he has funded health insurance for over 100 elders and chiefs, ensuring they receive regular medical care through the Ogun State Health Insurance Scheme.

Each year, he collaborates with Nigerian-American medical teams to deliver free surgeries and health outreach, including treatment for hernia, fibroids, breast lumps, and cataracts. Over 2,000 patients have benefited from these missions, many of them for the first time in their lives.

“I handled flights, feeding, logistics,” he says. “The state supported us with security and accommodation. It’s a partnership.”

With support from the Mastercard Foundation, he has also trained 245 youths in soilless farming, offering not just skills but a future.

Public service, he admits, is a delicate balance. “You can’t please everyone,” he says. “During campaigns, I told people: I will only promise what I can deliver.”

So far, he’s made good on that commitment, even as he continues to await the release of constituency project funds. In the interim, most of his interventions have been self-funded—a fact he shares not out of vanity, but transparency.

“It’s not sustainable,” he admits. “But for now, we do what we must.”

Atobatele is acutely aware of the disillusionment among Nigerian youths, especially when it comes to politics.

“The frustration is real,” he says. “But disengagement only gives power to those who don’t care about change.”

His advice?

“Vote. Advocate. Even run. The system is flawed—but change starts with participation.”

To those seeking to rewrite their narrative, he offers simple, enduring counsel: “Be truthful. Put God first. Your character will take you further than any connection.”

Asked what legacy he hopes to leave behind, Atobatele doesn’t mention titles or legislation. “I want to be remembered as someone who stood for people, not just policies,” he says. “Leadership should be a bridge to opportunity.”

Whether it’s expanding education, championing the marginalised, or confronting systemic neglect with decisive action, his north star remains clear: compassion, courage, and character.

His faith in the PDP also remains unshaken.

“The party will survive beyond 2027,” he insists. “What we’re seeing is not a collapse, but a renewal. Every political movement faces trials—it’s how we respond that defines us.”

As the sun sets behind the low hills of Abeokuta, Atobatele walks through a crowd of constituents, exchanging greetings and listening intently. There are no speeches today, no photo ops. Just presence and purpose.

And in that quiet, steadfast presence lies the enduring story of a man who believes that politics is not about power, but people.