The Remarkable Life of David O. Ovienmhada.

A fair skinned boy was born into a modest household in the valley of Ozenyen, Ohordua in present day Esan South East Local Government of Edo State circa 1915. He was named David Omozokpia Ovienmhada. His mother whom they called Oboh, a name which in my language means—Native doctor, probably because she was very skilled in the use of herbs, was tall, light skinned, and quite a beauty. (I do not recall meeting my grandmother on my father’s side but we have a picture of her. I later met her niece in Ewohimi who gave me a glimpse into her life’s story, and her legendary beauty).

Tragedy struck for Oboh when her husband died suddenly, leaving her with 3 mouths to feed. As was the custom in those days, she was “inherited” by the closest kinsman to her late husband. That was how her ordeal began.

Her new husband was cruel to her, and unkind to her children. He would often beat the woman for daring to give her children food to eat. She had nowhere to go. If you have ever been to the village of Ohordua, even today, it will give you a sense of “nowhere to go” as it is ensconced in a dense jungle with houses interspersed here and there in an almost linear arrangement. Once you see a house, right behind it is the jungle, a thick rainforest that makes the Amazon rainforest look like New York City. All you need to do is wait for nightfall which comes as pitch black for you to understand what I am trying to describe.

Interestingly, the jungle environment does not give you a sense of fear as much as a feeling of peace, and serenity. Our household is in a valley. There is a mighty hill to the right of the house which for many years, posed a challenge for travel especially during the rainy season, until Governor Osunbor tackled it in his brief stay in office. I look forward to meeting him one day, and prostrating to say “thank you,” for opening up my village.

When David was 11 years old, something extraordinary happened which was going to set him on a dream far beyond the jungle confines of Ohordua. An Igbo man came to the village to preach about the value of education to the people of our village. David was in that crowd. He caught the vision. When he ran back home excitedly to tell his stepfather, the man beat him to stupor for daring to dream. Not one to be put off by an undeserved punishment, David became even more determined to leave the village, but there was a little problem he needed to resolve first.

He was not circumcised, and that bothered him greatly. He then approached the ‘doctor’ of circumcision in the village who agreed to do it for three bunches of palm nuts. David then set out into the bush to fetch the bunches of palm nuts. His circumcision was done with him biting on a stick in his mouth.

One bright morning, he carried his cutlass, and a gourd of water as a decoy to make his stepfather think he was going to the farm. He had a whole day’s journey ahead of him before anyone could notice that he was not around. By nightfall, it would be too late to send out a search party to look for him.

He was determined to leave the village with the full knowledge that it was never going to lead him anywhere. He did not aspire to be like anyone he knew in the village. His mind had begun to wander far, and wide, imagining the possibilities that an education might hold.

A sense of uncertainty ran through his 11-year old skinny self, but so also was a fire burning within to venture into a world beyond his village, whatever hazards it held or whatever future it offered. He just kept on walking, taking an occasional rest under a tree.

As dusk approached, he made a tent for himself inside a clearing he had prepared to rest his head for the night, his machete firmly beside him.
Several days into his sojourn, the foreskin from the circumcision fell off. That came with great relief.

Many years later, even as we were growing up, dad was never a deep sleeper. He always had a machete under his mattress. The slightest noise attracted his attention. That paranoia came from the trauma days of growing up, never wanting to be caught off-guard. My father, I came to learn when I was a little older, had trouble sleeping, and so, he used Valium. I never saw that man finish a bottle of beer in a single sitting. He would take half, and cork up the other half for another day. He was a man who did with very little but slaved hard to educate 9 of his own children, 5 children from his siblings, and numerous others who came through our house whether as we were growing up in Lagos or later on in Benin after Midwestern Region was created in a plebiscite.

Eleven year old David trekked from Ohordua to Agbor, a journey of 53 miles over a number of days. Upon learning that the only teacher in Agbor had been transferred to Enugu, he decided to head for Sapele. He trekked until he was able to hitch a ride on a lorry heading towards Sapele. On the way to Sapele, the vehicle he was traveling in was involved in an accident. According to him, he found himself crushed under the weight of the vehicle but a very handsome, and very big man showed up, and lifted the vehicle for him to crawl out. That was his first encounter with Angels.

He was in the hospital for several months, and his family back in the jungle had no idea what had happened to him. He bore the scar of that accident on his right foot throughout his life.

All he had was a determination, and a hope that he would somehow attend school. Upon his arrival in Sapele, he enquired if there was any person from Esan land he could approach for a deal, to the end that, he would serve as a houseboy in exchange for an education. His plan paid off. His deal was readily accepted by an Esan policeman whom he served faithfully for several years. He would join the local boys to go fishing in the Ethiope River, and sell fish, and bring some back home for the family.

One fateful day, he was out in the mangrove forest to harvest fire wood for sale when suddenly, the river waters abated. Having not grown up around water, he did not know that at a certain time of the day, the waters would recede, and could return with enough force to cause severe flooding, and expose people to danger. Fear gripped him as he could not explain what was going on. That was when he had another encounter with Angels. According to him, a very light skinned woman with round face, and curvy, pointed breasts appeared from nowhere, paddling her canoe furiously toward him to rescue him from imminent danger.
She picked up his canoe that was already packed full with firewood as if it was a toy, took him to safety, and paddled away as fast as she arrived without saying a word to him.

When David finished school in Sapele, he sojourned to Lagos on Ojukwu Transport.

He was introduced to a man from Afemai who was a house help to a Briton. One day, as a squatter, when the Afemai man took ill, he helped to wash the British man’s car. The man could not recognize his car when David finished scrubbing the leather seats with some kind of oil and making the chrome, and wheels of the car to glimmer in the sun. The man was so impressed that he promised to help him secure a job with UAC where he worked in car repairs, and learned about engines. His knowledge of engines was going to take his life in another direction.

A customer had problems with his Baby Vauxhall, and would come over, and over again because the problem was not going away. One day, the manager asked David to look into it. He resolved the issue, and the problem never reoccurred. The customer returned to ask for the individual who fixed his car. He was introduced to David. He promised to help him get work with the government. Months went by, and all hope seemed lost.

Suddenly, one day, he was invited by the Ministry of Home Affairs to interview in their printing division. With his knowledge of engines, working at the Printing Press was a breeze. It was while he was there that he made friends with Late Chief A.Y Eke who was in the HR department in the same Ministry.

He, and A.Y Eke who became his life-long friend traveled on the Elder Dempster’s Aureol to England. David studied Printing Engineering in Yorkshire.

He returned from England on the 12th of February, 1953.

On his return journey, he brought a Triumph motorcycle with him, and rode from Lagos to the village in triumph carrying letters to deliver to folks in surrounding villages for free. He spent his entire life preaching the value of education, and helping many families with school fees for their children. He also made it his mission to pull many of his childhood friends out of the village to Lagos to secure a job or learn a trade. He lived a life of sacrifice.

Recently, I was in Upper Mission to visit 94-year old Chief J.T Okoroh, the (Ahenhen of Ohordua Kingdom), who was a regular visitor in our home when we were growing up, first in Sparta Lane, New Benin, then at 69 Igun Street, and later in GRA, Benin.
He gave me an anecdote of an incident that happened in the early 70s when a school was going to be built in our area through self help. Our village was given a portion to construct as our contribution. When people from my village complained that our assigned contribution was too big, the other villagers retorted: “Is Mr. David Ovienmhada alone not able to do this by himself?” Well, he did. As children, we accompanied my father to the village on several weekend trips. He would stop at Ikpoba slope to carry workmen, and we would go for construction in the village. At one point, during my conversation with Chief Okoroh, I said, “Sir, you were my father’s friend.” Hear his reply: “Your father was a giant. I could never be his friend. I was his boy.”

In 2007, I was introduced as O’meekey to a certain Dove Momodu by the famous Sonala Olumese, one of the living great writers of our time. Dove was an American returnee like myself. We met at the Galleria in Victoria Island, Lagos. When I introduced myself to Dove as Michael Ovienmhada, Dove stood up at attention to salute me, and these were his words: “Sir, you have no idea. Your father was the Awolowo of our village.”

Dove has been my adopted younger brother since our meeting in 2007. Dove has a story that will be told some day. I think there’s something about us Edo people.

As men go, Papa was not only a good man, he was a great father.
He was what the Yorubas call “Okunrin metta.” He ran his life with a motto: “Never leave for tomorrow, what you can do today.”
That has stuck in my head—In fact, it may have stuck too much as I tend to move from idea to planning to execution at the speed of sound.

David Omozokpia Ovienmhada died in July 1983 in a car crash at an illegal checkpoint set up by our Nigerian policemen at Ugbogui, Edo State.

Who sets up a checkpoint on a slope? Who sets up a checkpoint on a curve on a slope?

He did not die immediately according to eyewitnesses. He was taken to the UBTH which refused to admit him as doctors were on a nationwide strike at the time. The Good Samaritan who was helping to try and rescue him, an Igbo man, had no choice but to take him somewhere in the East at Onitsha General Hospital. He bled to death in their search for help.

David Ovienmhada may have died 42 years ago. He lives still.

Michael O. Ovienmhada.