After 6 years of Primary School, we were all required to take the Common Entrance to qualify us for the next level of our lives. There was a famous teacher in Benin City in those days. He was famous for being great at preparing children for the Common Entrance. His name was Mr. Oluyemi. He taught at the St. James’s Anglican School, now Agbado Primary School, on Akpakpava road. I told my father that I was interested in taking extra lessons to prepare for the Entrance. He promptly gave me the money for enrollment. Mr. Oluyemi was not only a great teacher, he also had a tough reputation with his cane. You had to maintain absolute discipline and quiet in his class. There are some things you just don’t forget because of the way they are taught. He belonged to a pantheon of god-like teachers in his era. He was that good.
One day, he made an attempt to call my name which by the way is long. It has 10 letters, and three consonants which go back to back to back—nmh. He did not call my name correctly. I may have been only 10-years old, but I was not going to stand for it. I stood up promptly to show him the correct pronunciation of my name.
Who was this tiny kid who had the audacity to challenge his royal highness? He promptly ordered two strong boys to “back me up.” I received 6 strokes of the cane for daring to correct my teacher. I guess that was his way of establishing his dominance over his space. He was a god. That class was his kingdom. You challenged him at your own peril.
That background story is an aside, but it needed to be told for context. I passed the Common Entrance, and I received a letter in the mail notifying me that I could interview with three Schools—Edo College, Benin City, Immaculate Conception College, Benin City, and Annunciation Catholic College, Irrua, in Esan Division.
My dad drove me to all three interviews and waited in his car, a blue Sports car, the SAAB with the plate number, MBC 150. It had a unique sound which anyone could easily recognize from half a mile away. I was not successful at the Edo College interview, which was painful because it was the number one elite college at the time, but I made the ICC interview.
Now, my immediate older brother was at ACC, Irrua. I wanted to go in his footsteps if Edo College which was my first choice did not admit me. My dad did not object. He drove me on the appointed date to Irrua, and put me in the care of one Gregory Oboh, a Class 5 student. The interview was on a Saturday. My father took the opportunity to go to our village. He would pick me up the next day.
Gregory Oboh is now late. He was a great soul, as great as the earth could possibly bring forth in those beautiful days of a beautiful Nigeria. He had gone on to become a Medical Doctor with an established, and thriving medical practice in Kano, Nigeria. In the course of his work, he needed to transport a patient who had an emergency that was beyond the power of his clinic to handle to the Ahmadu Bello University Teaching Hospital. He died in an accident. There are some people who pass through this earth like comets. He was one of those. He was a man who left an indelible impression every step of his life. May his memory continue to be a blessing.
In those days, the Academic School year began in January. I had just turned all of 11 years old.
I had gone through every Right of Passage. I was going to Secondary School. My recollection was of a beautiful day. The sun was shining, but it was mild in Irrua on that first day in school. After all, this young man from Benin City was coming to grace the school with his presence. I believed I came to school quite prepared, having been thoroughly taught by my father who paid attention to every child as if you were the only one. I was one of 9 children, and I was number 5 in line with four behind me and four ahead of me.
Papa was a good man, a very capable man. He was the type of man the Yorubas would refer to as “Okunrin Metta.”
A literal translation would be “Three men in one.”
Or as the English would say: A man of Substance.
The House assigned to me was St. Mary’s. At the time, we had St. Augustine’s, St. Gabriel’s, St. Mary’s and St. Joseph’s. After settling down in my corner, and arranging my provisions away in my locker, I put on my evening clothes and started to take a walk around the school compound. This was going to be my life for the next five years. As I walked from my hostel, I saw three students coming in the opposite direction. As if they had rehearsed it, all three of them commanded me to “stop right there!” I stopped and this conversation ensued.
Three Boys: What is your name?
Me: Michael Ovienmhada.
Three boys: Are you related to Francis Ovienmhada?
Me: (Smiling with pride). Yes. That’s my older brother.
Three boys: You’re a dead man. Your brother punished us. We’re going to kill you! (A slap landed across my face).
One of them ordered me to follow him to his hostel and he asked me to kneel down. My crime was that I was related to my brother. He kept me there for the next three hours. My knees hurt but I dared not complain. At a point, I burst into a song by Jim Reeves—- “This world is not my home. I’m just passing through.” My punisher took compassion on me upon hearing that song. He set me free.
Annunciation Catholic College was a place of excellence. It moulded us to become well rounded ethical and moral citizens of the world.
As in all things that used to be beautiful in our once beautiful country, it fell into ruins due to neglect by successive governments. When I returned from the United States in 2007, I paid a visit to the school. I stood transfixed as I cried that a once excellent citadel of learning had fallen into ruins. It reminded me instantly of the song that the children of Israel sang while in captivity in Babylon: “By the Rivers of Babylon.”
That was exactly how I felt that day. Fortunately, I was not alone in that feeling. Our Old Boys across the world were not trained to see a situation and not do something about it.
No.
A situation of the desolation of our Alma Mater was not going to be allowed to stand. As at the last count, we had raised over N2B. The glory of the school today has surpassed all of our dreams. Any child going through that school in these times is going to be prepared and positioned for excellence.
Many schools across the country have heard about what we have accomplished. They are beginning to walk in our footsteps.
In spite of all our problems as a society, pockets of excellence are springing up across the country.
This is a good thing.
Dangote Refinery is eminently representative of one of those. Innoson Motors is one of those.
Air Peace is one of those. In politics, Governor Otti is said to be breaking new records in Abia State, (Egogonews will be visiting Abia soon). Our banking sector is top notch. So is Insurance.
Our economy is going through a cost of living shock adjustment.
It will change our country in fundamental ways.
Should we give up on our country?
A friend of mine who is now late loved to write great prose. He would say things like—“I see a light in the tunnel, and the light is coming towards me.”
Yogi Berra the American baseball legend had a famous line that goes thusly: “When life takes you to a fork in the road, just take it.”
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Michael Ovienmhada.
