MEOGRAPHY- A FASCINATING SHORT STORY OF SOMEONE'S LIFE
THE SO LONG STORY OF MY LIFE IS CRAMMED IN A POEM-
A poem that tells all the story of my life
It is not just without a silver spoon,
It is without a brass spoon;
Though not with a wooden spoon
And this places me in a class too.
But through my childhood,
I have learnt that not being born with
Does not mean not to born with
And that without which I am born
With it shall I born
There is yet
another that surpass the silver spoon,
It is the golden spoon
Then it is with this golden spoon
that I shall born
For it is to born with and not to
be born with,
That really counts.
Nne was cooking in the kitchen
one evening while I was playing with my siblings Dera, Afam, Tochi and Ifes.
‘Pea-ce’ she called out ‘I have told you that you must be with me in the
kitchen each time I am cooking’ while I sat on the wooden chair by the fire
side, she said ‘being the only girl among four boys does not mean that you
cease to be a girl and become a boy’. I adjusted the firewood and watched the
fire as it ate up the four logs of firewood arranged carefully in the cooking
metal. I watched my mother as she sliced the onion into fine tiny round slices,
then I said ‘Nne, tell me how you gave birth to me’. She looked at me with
admiration split all over her eyes and she told me about my birth and
childhood. ‘I had waited and prayed to God after getting married to your father
without a child. I was sixteen when your father married me, so I think the year
of waiting was actually preparing me for child birth. Your brother’s birth had
brought so much joy to me and your father, and in that joy, I took in for you
when your brother was just seven months. You had come peacefully unlike your
brother that had caused me so much pain. So, on the 24th of
November, 1994, on a peaceful Thursday evening, in Hindatu clinic, ward three,
I had a beautiful plump baby wrapped in my hands and that baby was you. It was
this period that your father was at logger head with his half brothers, so, he
had named you peace and Chinagorom (God is my defender), an indirect way of
telling them that he wants peace and has no strength for fights. You have
proven to me that indeed, name follows its bearer. When you were a baby, you
never cried, the only time you cry was when you are hungry. You ate so much and
you grew so plump that people often asked me what kind of food I give to my
baby. Your father had always said that before your birth, he had seen my mother
in his dream coming inside the house with a full basket on her head. This has
made him believe that you are an incarnation of my mother, so, he named you
after my mother. From your childhood, your father has always had a special love
for you. And together, your father and I have promised to give you and your
siblings the best, it is our joy that you go places that we were not able to
get to. ‘Our food is getting burnt’ Nne said as she sprang to her feet and
dropped the pot of rice on the ground. Then, I said ‘Nne, you did not use the
rag, your hand might get burnt’ she smiled and said ‘they are stronger than
yours, so, don’t try it’. Thanks to my mother who had told the part of my life
that I cannot tell myself.
Every man has a root; the land
that has earthed his forefathers. I hail from Umu-Oshim clan of Ihenyi village
in Eha-Amufu local government, Enugu, Nigeria. I had once asked my dad why our
clan was called Umu-Oshim, and he said ‘we’re good with pots, so people called
our clan Umu-Oshim (the cookers). Only then did I understand why my father is a
good cook. I had always loved his meals and often, he would ask Nne to allow
him take charge of the kitchen.
Through my childhood, I had
known this one thing; it is that my parent always wanted the best for me. I had
my primary education at Excel Nursery and Primary School, Daura, Katsina State,
as of then the only private school in Daura. I concluded my primary education
in 2004 and in 2005; I gained admission into Federal Government College, Daura,
Katsina State. Federal Government College, Daura was an assemblage of people
from different parts of Nigeria and I owe her many thanks for the beginning of
my social exposure. It was when I got to F.G.C that I got to start believing in
myself. My school debate coach, Mr. Peter, a rather smallish man whose bold
voice was never a match to his small stature had sported me when I was in J.S.S
1 as a fresh student. He insisted for reasons that I could not just tell that I
must join the debate club, and I wondered why me when there were other smarter
students. The first day I would participate in a debate, the topic was; ‘Nigeria
Deserves a Female President’ and I was to speak in favour of the topic. When I
got to the stage, I had a strange kind of courage, the reason for that strong
self confidence that came on me is what I cannot explain, but that day, the
inferiority complex left me, I couldn’t imagine that people were seated,
waiting for me to speak so that they could hear! Then, after the presentation, Mr.
Peter’s bold voice would ring out ‘you’re good, you mustn’t miss the debate
class!’ then those words ‘you’re good’ kept ringing in my memory. That was how
it started and a hidden genus in me was unleashed.
After my JSSCE exams, I had
several As and the culture in my school was send the bright students to science
class and the dull ones to art class. Mr. Peter kept ringing the warning ‘you
must be in art classes, that’s where you belong’. Another teacher that made me
see something inside of me was Mr. Youngkop, my government teacher. Oh my
goodness! I have never seen a teacher as industrious as he is, he taught with
all zeal and asked ‘you’re getting me right?’ almost after each phrase he says
in the class. Mr. Youngkop never left my paper test or exam without a comment.
His bold writing in red ‘impressive’, ‘excellent’, ‘keep it up’ always had
their place in my papers. FGC Daura, my almamata, would I ever forget you. Like
the porter moulds the clay into fine shape, you’ve moulded me into the shape I
am today. When I was to live FGC Daura in 2011, it was all like a dream, I was
so used to being in her four corners, putting on white and brown uniform and
sitting in those class rooms and I had asked my friend Ella ‘you mean we’re not
going to come back here’ and I couldn’t withhold those hot tears from falling
down my cheeks and Ella said ‘you should be happy we’re living!, life’s in
stage and this stage is over’.
After my secondary school in
2011, I took JAMB same 2011 and while awaiting my result, I got a job with
Pace-Setters Nursery and Primary School, Daura. I was given a kindergarten
class to handle. Oh, I loved the little children and often, I rushed their
class work so that we could sing together. I taught them rhymes ‘twinkle,
twinkle little stars’ ‘doctor, doctor, doctor’, ‘bla, bla black sheep’ and many
more. One of the children, very fair and skinny and one need not to be told
that this one’s skinniness was not for lack of food but his nature, his name was
Baffa. The poor boy, his parents had brought him to school possibly because
they want a place to keep him while they were away to work. Every day he was
brought to school, he cried so loudly and sometimes, I would be very scared with
the thought that his throat might fall out.
The proprietress, aunty Celine,
the no-nonsense woman who wouldn’t bear meeting a teacher idle in the class,
you must have something doing and never sit idle, otherwise, you would have a
query to answer. She walked up to me one morning and said ‘you’re the new
English teacher for primary 1, 2, 3 and 4, I mean English and Literature’. It
was at this stage of my life that I really understood that fulfilment in the
job one does is not really how much he earns but how well he does the job. I
had to report every day at the school latest by 7:40 am, anything more than
that means that you are losing a whole #50 from your salary and trust aunty
Celine to make all necessary deductions at the end of the month. Sometimes, I
worked throughout from 8:00am after the assembly to 2:00am when the school
dismisses. With my long note for exercise, some English text books, a cain and
pupils’ exercise (I of course always had so many of them to mark), I walked
from one class to another. After each lesson, I was expected to give pupils
excercises, mark the excercises and their note books. Soon, I was a popular
English teacher in Pace-setters, all the staff knew me and always passed on
comments like ‘the difference is very clear since aunty peace started handling
English language, the pupils are really improving in their spoken English’.
Most times, I would have to take excercises home for marking and return them.
Aside the normal school work, I
was also a home lesson teacher and a student in a computer school. After the
school lesson dismisses around 2:00pm, I would go for my computer class and
after that, I would go to three houses for home lesson. I had always enjoyed
sitting on the wide mat spread at the centre of those large houses, with
children around me while I teach and instruct them. The parents had this kind
of scary respect for me and called me ‘Mallama’. Sometimes, I thought within me
how disappointed they would be if they found out that the well respected ‘Mallama’
is not a qualified teacher and that she’s just got a secondary school
certificate, oh, not even yet, still awaiting it. But you know what, they would
doubt if someone had told them that. I was so happy that I had several means of
income, the little salary and the lesson fees placed a pretty good sum of money
in my hands after each month.
While I was working, my JAMB
and WAEC result came out. I and my brother Dera made it again! I was so happy and
my parents were proud of us. I went to Ahmadu Bello University, Zaria for
POST-UTME while Dera went to Delta for his. I had always seen myself schooling
at ABU, I loved ABU and I really wanted to school there but this would be the
first blow of my life and it was pretty hard. After the POST-UTME exercise at
Zaria, there was no admission and my result was withheld. It was in this period
of depression that my dad had told I and Dera about the new university and it
doesn’t matter if you applied or not. Reluctantly, both of us had left Daura to
Dutsin-ma for the exam, but the new Federal University and Dutsin-Ma were
different things entirely from my dream of ABU. There were no structures and
the place was dried. I always wonder if it is the same new land that we came to
write exams that is now springing forth like a plant does during the raining
season. I got the admission with the help of God and I am presently in 300L.
When I was in 100L, I began to
see myself in Adichie Ngozi Chimamanda, then, I had this strong dream of
becoming a writer. It started when I read Amanda’s Purple Hibiscus; I had a strong feeling for one of the characters
Kambili. Subsequently, I read other works by Amanda, one of those works, Americanah took me into the little world
created by Chimamanda, I liked the way she described the characters every
character couldn’t escape without their hairstyle described, the way the plot
of the story was woven, the blend of the setting and the Igbo phrases that
spiced the novel. When I discovered that Chimamanda was not just a female
writer but a young female writer, something inside of me sprang up and I saw me
in Chimamanda. I all of a sudden felt like picking up my pen to write. But
then, there were questions coming up in my mind. How do I present it? What do I
write about and who even cares to know what I write about? Then later, I went
in search of an audience, I wrote about something going on in the girls’ hostel
and pasted them on the walls and I can’t explain how I felt when I saw people
who stood to read it and chuckled and I got several ‘I like your article’
Someone once asked me ‘who do you
admire and want to be like? Waiting to
hear me call names, but no, there is this one person I had always admired, a
thought of her brings tears to my eyes. She’s a rare gem and I’m still waiting
to see someone like her. Waiting to know this person? It’s my Mamaa, honourable
Lucy Akueji. I do not have any legal right to confer titles on people, but in
this case, I must be pardoned. She deserves to be honoured, she’s a mother
indeed, and hardworking, focused, diligent… the list is endless. I have always
wondered what type of person she is. In those days when I was coming up and Nne
was still giving birth to my three younger sisters, we would be in the shop
together, then, she would stand up and say ‘I am going to the hospital, tell
your dad to come along with the baby’s things to the hospital’. We would go to
the hospital and find her with a baby. Then when I told people that my mum had
put to bed, the reply was always ‘God’s great what a strong woman!’ she had
always told us how she likes school very well and came first during her primary
school days but never had someone to sponsor her when she lost her parent at a
very tender age. Then she would say ‘I am happy that what I wasn’t able to do,
my children are doing it, and all of you from A-Z must complete your education
to any level’. She travels to Kano each time I gave her the list of recommended
text books and she is not able to find them in Katsina, our fees are always
ready in Nne’s banking box. And I am where I am today first because of God then
my mum. Sometimes, I get discouraged, but remembering her alone stirs something
inside of me.
Nnem,
you’re a rare gem.
I wish I had the entire world to give to
you,
but even the
whole world would not equate your love and care.
Patiently, you have laid
the bricks that have built my life.
The mother hen picks grain from the
ground,
Deprives itself of the grain and
throws it to its chicks.
Nnem, you have
deprived yourself of so many things for us.
It’s
almost over, the seed you planted and have been watering
Has grown into a green flourishing tree
And soon, you shall pluck the fruit to eat,
For shall not a man the fruit of his labour eat?
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