His father will never be forgotten – Ken Saro-Wiwa. A name never to be missed out in Nigeria’s history.

Ken Saro-Wiwa Jr. has been reported dead after suffering a stroke on Saturday that saw him placed on life support up until Tuesday evening when he gave up.

We know that his father was an amazing novelist and television content producer who served Nigeria outside of his work by speaking out against political and environmental injustices. We know that the father will never be forgotten but here are three things that you should know about the son who also lived an accomplished life in public service.

1. Ken Saro-Wiwa Jr., born in 1968 was more popularly known as Ken Wiwa. Something he must have taken up from his grandfather, Jim Wiwa, the Ogoni Chief; but much like his father, he was a journalist and author too.

Before he died, he was the online content editor at The UK Guardian’s New Media Lab.

2. Ken Wiwa returned to Nigeria from his U.K base in 2005 to serve in former President Olusegun Obasanjo’s cabinet as his Special Assistant on peace, conflict resolution and reconciliation. He then continued to serve in Nigeria when President Umaru Yar’Adua was elected as the Special Assistant on International Affairs. Ken Wiwa was also part of the immediate past president, Goodluck Jonathan’s cabinet. The former president has just sent in a tweet mourning his loss.

A bright star has been prematurely plucked from the Nigerian firmament. Ken Wiwa, like his father was a patriot. Adieu great son of Nigeria.

— Goodluck E. Jonathan (@GEJonathan) October 19, 2016

3. As a kid, Ken Wiwa rehearsed scenarios where he’d receive news of his activist father’s death. He wrote in a 2005 memoir, In the name of my father that when the news did come, he was 25 years old in Auckland, New Zealand and “had flown to New Zealand to try to lobby the Commonwealth Heads of State to intervene on behalf of my father, who had been sentenced to death at the end of October. At the top of the street I turned to view the sunset. Looking out over the city centre below me and out into the harbour in the distance, I watched the sun sink into the sea, casting a pale orange glow against the sky. I remember the exact moment he died. I was sitting in a restaurant chatting and laughing with friends when I felt a brief palpitation in my chest – it felt like a vital connection had been ruptured inside me and I just knew. It was midnight in Auckland and midday in Nigeria and my father had just been hanged; his broken body lay in a shallow sand pit in a hut at the condemned prisoners block at Port Harcourt Prison.” he wrote in his memoir.

Roqeebah

Creative mind. Enthusiast. Learner. Multipotentialite. And here, an assistant editor.