A month after I wrote my last paper in College, I started working as a teacher at Dayrem Professional Institute, Toyin Street, Ikeja. I was teaching Use of English to aviation students. My salary was N450.
It was the same day that they brought the corpse of Ayinba SIMBIAT ABIOLA back from the UK. MKO Abiola’s residence was not far from my place of work. I joined the crowd to witness the burial.
My first salary was paid in two instalments. ₦250 and ₦200. My brother opened an account for me with Lagos Building Investment Company with the first payment. Kí Ọlọ́run dẹlẹ fún ènìyàn rere. I was not paid December salary. The Institute had no money. I had come to the school with my last money, hoping to get my salary.
How was I to get back home? From Toyin Street, I walked across Ipodo market, I passed Fela Shrine on Gbemisola Street. There was no computer village at the time. I walked across the rail line, passing Ikeja Club on the right. With empty stomach, but determined gait, I continued walking along Lagos-Abeokuta Express Road. I passed The Punch on the left. (Some months later, my first poem would be published in The Punch. I had become a writer! I received two letters from those who read my poem. One was from Kaduna. The gentleman praised the poem and told me that it brought tears to his eyes. The second letter was from a lady from the East. She said that she cried when she read the elegy I wrote for a departed school mate. I was happy. But that was still months ahead.)
Back to the Great Trek. With the boundless energy of the youth, I continued walking. I was not bitter. I was not sad. I was just determined. Magoro, Onilekere, Cement, I continued walking…
In January, the December salary was paid, in fractions. I collected what was paid and ran off. The Institute is still owing me ₦150. I hope to collect it on Judgment Day.
Do you remember Basiru Bamgbola? The one Barrister praised? I saw a signboard near his house. A school was looking for teachers with Grade II, NCE and B.Ed. I applied.
I was qualified. But there was a snag….
I was yet to collect my certificate from the college. I had only To Whom It May Concern. They must have seen something in Ifẹ̀ Boy. I was employed. I became the first teacher to be employed at Eduland School Akowonjo.
Let me digress. About 8 years ago, I walked into a Bank in Lagos. One of the staff was my client. She heard that I had published a book and requested for a copy. I gave her and her colleagues copies of the book. The manager saw the book with them and started reading the blurb. She read my name as the author. She looked at me. She muttered the name again. “The name is familiar” she said.
I looked at her. Her face was also familiar. “Were you in Iléṣà?” She said no. Were you in Akoka? She said yes. What year? She told me. No way! I had left Akoka more than a decade before she entered.
I asked for her name. She told me. It did not ring any bell. I noticed that she was wearing a silver wedding band. On impulse, I asked: what’s your maiden name? She said: SANNI!
I smiled. “I taught you in Primary 5.”
She jumped up as if she was stung by scorpion! “Mr. Akinsola! Yes, Sir!” My client and her colleagues were surprised that I was their Manager’s teacher! They gave me a new title: Oga Oga wa!
