Dear Someone,
I don’t know you. But I hope you are okay. I know things are a bit hard. I know you are struggling to survive. No one is ready to support your dreams. No one appears to believe in your ideas. You are bustling with creative ideas, but it appears no one is ready to assist you. That job of your dream is not forthcoming. Your admission letter is yet to arrive. You are feeling like quitting. Please whatever you do, please don’t give up. Please let’s try one more time, please.
Many years ago, I stood at the gate of Obafemi Awolowo University, Ile-Ife, at the junction where one road leads to Ede and Osogbo. With tears streaming down my young face, I looked at the Ori Olokun which appeared on the crest of the famous institution, and with ferocious and fierce determination, I vowed: “Obafemi Awolowo University, you are telling me that I can’t be successful without your degree. If my success in life is dependent on a degree from this school, I will prefer never to be successful! But I tell you today, I will be successful without your degree!”
I turned my back on the school and I vowed never to enter its campus until I have a degree from another school. I could see that the Ori Olokun was sad.
I kept my vow.
My young mind could never understand the injustice. I had graduated as one of the best students in my Department at the Osun State College of Education. The college was affiliated to Obafemi Awolowo University. Armed with my ‘impressive’ performance, I had applied for admission into the Obafemi Awolowo University via Direct Entry. I was not alone. My friend who later became my brother, Sikiru Alao, also applied. He was one of the best graduating students in his own Department, Economics/Mathematics. Muritala Moshood also applied. We all had 12 and 13 points out of the 15 points obtainable. A very good result.
We started preparing for resumption.
It was on a wet morning in August. Admission list was out. Bustling with excitement, we went to JAMB Office in Ikoyi. Then the office was on Hawksworth Road. You remember the place? It was a popular destination for university applicants in those days.
I gave my information to the lady. She checked her system and scribbled something down. I was smiling. OAU, here I come. I looked at the paper. It was in red ink. Two words followed by the date. I blinked. ‘No Admission’. There must have been a mistake. I went blank! Sikiru was nudging me. He was showing me his own slip, No Admission. He was older than me but at that moment he looked so much younger and very vulnerable. He checked for Moshood. No admission!
The momentary shock over, the Omo Akin in me took over. I regained my composure. “How much do you have with you?” He emptied his pocket. I added the little I had. It was not much but I knew we could not afford to stay a moment longer in Lagos. We had left Taiwo Olaniyi at home. He was waiting for us to345 bring news of our admission. I knew he would be worried if he did not see us, but to Ife we must go. There was no mobile telephone at the time.
At Oshodi, I explained our predicament to the driver at Saudi Base. The driver was an angel. Up National! He accepted the token we had and gave us seats.
On arrival at OAU, we met XY. She was my half-course mate. Her point was exactly half of my point. I knew she must be in the same shoe with us. I was shocked when she showed us her admission letter. When we told her we were not admitted, she didn’t utter a single word. She was overwhelmed and quietly walked away. The next person me met was YX, another half-course mate, with also half of my point. He was admitted.
Oranfe Onile Ina! Who did I offend?
We went from one office to another. We begged. We pleaded. We cried. The response was the same: “You just filled your forms and went away to Lagos. Who was assisting you to monitor your admission?” No one. We had assumed, naively, that our excellent performance was a guarantee for automatic admission.
We had not eaten since morning. We had no money. We had trekked from the gate to the Admission Office. We were hungry and depressed. And we must go back to our base in Lagos. I left Sikiru on campus to see my mother. She was surprised to see me. Even without speaking, she knew something was wrong. I told her.
When she started crying, my own Kainji dam opened. Iya mi, Ikoyi Eso! Omo Ekun, Omo Are! Mother and son started crying. Then she began to pray for me. Everybody in Oja Ife was looking at us. And placing her hand on my young shoulder, she made the prophetic statement: “E fi awon campus sile. E lo si ibo miran. Ibi ti Olorun ba so pe e ma de, e ma de be, in sha Allah!” She gave me enough to cover our fare back to Lagos.
Sikiru was waiting for me in front of Hezekiah Oluwasanmi Library. We didn’t have any appetite but I managed to eat five wraps of eba. Eni ti ko joba, yoo sa je eba. The next challenge was where to sleep. Sikiru remembered that one of his course mates had left College a year earlier for OAU. We went to look for him.
It was Phil Collins who sang: If there’s nothing you can do, there is something you can say. Isiaka Ademola (Provost), wherever you are today, I pray that Almighty Allah will facilitate your affairs for you. Isiaka spoke to us kindly. He encouraged us not to give up. He gave us a foam to sleep in his room in Fajuyi Hall. Thank you for that singular act. It’s more than thirty years, I have never forgotten that act of kindness. I haven’t seen Isiaka since then, but he is always in my prayers.
I had read Awolowo’s Adventures in Power in Secondary School and from the Sage, I had learnt not to sleep with my troubles. Papa Awo had trained himself to always remove his troubles like a cloak when it was bedtime. I fell on the foam and I slept very soundly. It was a dreamless sleep. I had since slept in good hotels across continents, but I have never forgotten that sleep in Fajuyi Hall.
The following morning, we tried again. The music had not changed. We went back to Lagos.
As I was getting home, my brother, Olawale, arrived from Ife. Apparently, my mother had not slept. Iya Ni Wura. My mother had spent the night going to all the important people in Ile-Ife. She finally located a professor who promised to help. She also sent my brother with money.
I went back to Ife. The professor was shocked that I was not admitted. He located a list where my name was second in order of merit. Sikiru was number 5. Moshood was number 10 or 11. Yet, we were not admitted. He advised me to come back the following year and to inform him immediately I submitted my form.
But my young mind was made up. Obafemi Awolowo University would never appear on my CV. It was crystal clear to me that I would never accept anything from OAU.
At the gate, I made my vow. Like Olowo Aye, the hero of D. O. Fagunwa’s Igbo Olodumare, I turned my back on the school and with determined steps I went back to Lagos.
On my way to Lagos I took certain decisions. I was going to start afresh. I was not going to proceed with Direct Entry for a degree in Education again. I had gone to the College of Education in the first place as a result of lack of guidance. By the time I passed Asejire Dam, I had decided I was going to study Law or Mass Communication. I remembered that Miss Sola Adefarakan who taught me in Primary 5 had predicted either of the two professions for me. And I was never going to go back to OAU. My mother had said “E lo si ibo miran.” The loss of OAU would be the gain of another school.
It was night when I got back to Lagos. I went to my brother and I explained my decision to him. I tell you, there is nothing like a good family. Olayinka Ishola, Omo Ajiboye, Omo agba ko suwon tan, Ogan adisi oro, Lomijobi, Baba mi a san ogun bi eni san aso, Baba mi se edidi aso pelemo! You were the best brother in the world. You deserved a place in the Guinness Book of Records. Thanks for the sacrifice. I hope I have justified the confidence you have in me, Sir. May Almighty continue to expand your grave. I miss you every second. Alhamadullilah, Aisha is proceeding to the Law School now. I did not drop the baton. It’s the least I could do for the massive belief you had in me.
JAMB was going to close the following day. No time to waste. The entire money my brother had that night was the exact cost of JAMB form. He gave me everything. Everything! There was no fare but I knew that I must get to my destination. Very early the next morning, I was on my way. Molue to Oshodi, another Molue to Obalende. I pleaded with the conductors. They allowed me to stand. From Obalende, half-walking, half running, I jogged to Falomo Post Office where I bought the form.
The result came out! I was happy but I knew that it was not over yet.
Ina esisi kii jo ni lemeji. I had learnt my lesson from Obafemi Awolowo University. I had learnt to tie my camel before praying to God to look after it for me. I made as many copies of my JAMB result as I could afford and I began to distribute it like missionary tracts. If you were in Lagos at the time, you must have come across it. The only thing I did not do was to post it on a billboard. I was then a teacher. I approached the parents of my students. May God bless them all. They stood by me. Chief and Mrs. Utuyorume deserve to be mentioned. Chief took me in his car and we went to Unilag.
Another wonderful couple was Mr. and Mrs. Okeke. I was teaching their daughter, Chidera and her sister, Baby. The young couple was determined that this young man must be admitted. My Uncle, the Reverend, practically ‘occupied’ Akoka Campus. There was no week that he did not visit Unilag. I am eternally indebted to you, Sir. Aremu! Omo Ajiboye! Omo awi koko loju oro. Bi oloro ba gbo, ki ni oloro le se. I hope I have not been a disappointment, Sir.
Finally! The efforts of the commonwealth paid off. Almighty Allah had crowned the efforts. How can I ever forget that moment when Sikiru came back from JAMB Office with two admission letters! I cradled my letter of admission like a newborn baby. I felt like Neil Armstrong on the moon.
Years later, “LA! You will be representing me at Obafemi Awolowo University. The Law Society is giving me an award.” That was from my Boss and Mentor.
I smiled. I would be going back to OAU. The same OAU? But this time around, I was not going to seek admission. I was already a holder of professional certificates from three different schools on two continents.
OAU! Here I come!
As the car turned from Ife-Ibadan Expressway into the road that led to OAU, I asked the driver to stop. I stood at the place where I had stood years before, at the junction where one road leads to Ede. With my arm raised in black power salute, I began to scream. It was not intended. It was impulsive and spontaneous! I was practically screaming and laughing!
“I am back! I told you! I told you I was going to make it without your degree, OAU! I told you I would become successful without you!”
Tears of joy were streaming down my face. I was delirious with happiness. Passersby were gaping at the scene. They were wondering what was happening to the young man in bow tie.
Then a strange thing happened.
It could have been my imagination. Ori Olokun began to smile. It was a smile of happiness. She was nodding with approval…The Ife Boy has done it without OAU Degree!
My Dearest Someone, I don’t even know why I am writing you this letter. Everyone has a story. But I hope my story would inspire you. The weather may be inclement. The terrain may be rough. But whatever you do, don’t ever give up on your dream. Every step takes you closer to the target. Rise up again. Take another step. Make another call. You can make it!
I hope to read from you soon.
-Olanrewaju Akinsola Onigegewura
Winner, British Council Professional Achievements Award
