I know why Lizzy wept

Do you read Dike Chukwumerije? You should. He is a national treasure.

Below is his 3-part essay titled, “I Know Why Lizzy Wept.”

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I KNOW WHY LIZZY WEPT (PART 1)
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I was 17 when I went to Uni. And I remember writing down two goals. One was to graduate with a First Class. The other was to go to the Olympics. And I set off in pursuit of these goals with one of the four super powers I know I was born with – Perseverance. I spent my days in the library, never missed my classes, and – no matter what pleasures the night promised – went to bed early. At dawn or dusk, almost every day, under the cover of darkness, I would train. Sometimes, my closest friend would come, just to watch. You see? He was the only company I had.

For my school had no sports program (well, apart from 5-a-side football, and later on basketball). It had no gym, no sports complex, no sports culture, no sports mentality. Nothing. I didn’t even have the local competition circuit I had grown up on in Lagos, where Taekwondo clubs on the mainland and island would routinely meet. For Abuja was still a concrete city. Nothing. But I kept punching and kicking the best I could. But who can stay sharp without competition? True. And, I tell you, that competition did not come till the tail-end of my 4th year. In its history, this was the first time my school would go for the NUGA games. But, by then, honestly, I was no longer sharp. 4 years of isolation had dulled me. So, I lost my 2nd fight.

But I was back on the circuit! And having now discovered Taekwondo in Abuja, made it onto the FCT team, to go to the National Sports Festival the next year. This was at the start of my final year. You see? From my first year, in the absence of any way of actualizing my sports ambitions, I had given myself completely to the pursuit of my academic one. And it was now within sight. But, suddenly, so too was a chance to take a small step towards my Olympic dream. So, for a few weeks, I lived the life of a professional athlete. And at the Sports Festival, fought my way into the finals. And lost. True. Sometimes, it is less painful to come last than to come second. True. In the aftermath, I weighed the cost of continuing to pursue sporting glory (which included the left eye I almost lost in the ring) and that of chasing a First Class. And decided to let one go, and focus on the other. You understand? It was a heart-wrenching decision, but it did not make me cry.

I focused on my studies. And after 5 years of giving it everything I had in sun-scorched Gwagwalada, imagine? I graduated with a Second Class Upper – less than a quarter of a point away from a First Class. This broke my heart, but it did not make me cry. I squared my jaw and said, I will make this right in Law School. At Law School, from my campus (Agbani), there was only one First Class. And it wasn’t me. Again, a Second Class Upper. At this point, I looked at what I had written down at 17 – 2 goals, and here I was 7 years of graft and discipline later, and I had failed to meet any of them. You see? Success is subjective. So, honestly, it did not matter to me that those who thought they would Fail and made Pass, or those who thought they had Pass and staggered into Third Class were looking at me (are even now still looking at me) as if I was crazy, deep in my heart, I felt like a failure. And there in that valley of extreme self-immolation, tears came to my eyes.

Till I noticed something. That while working hard through school in single-minded pursuit of one goal, I was always that student other students looked for in class to ask, ‘Please, Dike, can you help me explain this topic?’ As a result, I had spent my entire time at Uni and Law School giving tutorials and mini-lectures. And in the process had discovered 3 other super-powers I was born with. One, the ability, after a long time in thought, to suddenly see complex things in simple pictures. (My mother calls this – Insight.) Two, the ability to communicate those complex things I could now see in simple pictures to others in a language that allowed them to see it too. And three, well, that if I really, really want to, I can memorise for Africa. And in that eureka moment I understood something – that sometimes when God puts a goal in your heart it is not so that you can achieve it. No. Sometimes, He puts it there is so that in reaching for it, you can stretch to your own full height. You see? Because, self-realization is, really, the only objective God TRULY cares about when it comes to you. You understand?

And it made me happy again. Plus, the fact that if after a series of deep, soul-wrenching, heart-breaking disappointments, you can still find joy, and meaning, and the motivation to roll out of bed with a spring in your step, love in your heart, to get stuck back in, then – honestly – nothing do you. True.

Ehm, I know you think the title of this article is a strange one, but if I remember to write the follow-up to it next week, it will make sense.

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I KNOW WHY LIZZY WEPT (PART 2)
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One of my earliest memories of my youngest brother is of me trying to teach him a poomsae. That’s a Korean word in Taekwondo (TKD) for a specific set of movements. Sort of like learning a poem. Only that the poem is in physical movements. And at each stage in TKD, you have to master the ‘poem’ for that stage so you can go to the next. Like this, the ‘poems’ progressively grow more complex as you move up. Yes. One of my earliest memories of my youngest brother is of me teaching him the first – most basic and simplest – of all the poomsaes. For he was a white belt and I was brown, both of us children, but I cannot forget the levels of irritation I felt each time he failed to get it.

Yes. Looking back, I now know that what I thought irritation was actually love. You see? I wanted him to get it. I wanted it so much that I held my breath each time, watching him struggle to remember whether what came next was a block or a punch. And if he went on to make the wrong move, my heart would twist itself into a painful knot. Yes, I accept. I called him ‘block-head’ a few times, on account of this. Yes. I accept. But it is not easy to teach someone you really love. No. It is not easy to have to watch them try and figure things out themselves. You know? Like this, twenty years later, I could not sit and watch him fight at the Beijing Olympics either. No. I stayed in the bedroom, and shouted out to wifey – ‘Is he winning?’ I don’t know. Between the person in the ring, and the person watching, I do not know who suffers more.

Like this, I have watched my brother grow, from when I towered over him to when he began to tower over me. See, I am not here to tell his story. Not really. Only that, often, the road the Nigerian athlete must travel just to get to the starting line-up of an Olympic event is a long torturous one. But, like Spartans, we do not complain. Like this, in between graduating with a 2.1 in Mechanical Engineering from FUTO, finishing his NYSC, and going on to a distinction in his masters, he fought his way into 3 consecutive Olympic finals. No, it was no chwa-chwa. It is not chwa-chwa to go undefeated as national heavyweight champion for 13 years. It is blood and sweat, miles and miles of open road. It is broken bones. Like this, I tell you, in the qualifiers for the 2012 London Olympics, he went to Egypt to battle it out. And, there, his opponent – who you must allow me to call a complete arsehole – deliberately stomped on him as he lay on the floor. And broke his nose. But, like Spartans, we do not complain. He got up and got the job done.

For his heart and soul was set on winning Gold in London. For 12 years, it was all he had lived for. From his first Olympics at Athens where he got nothing, to the next one in Beijing where he won Bronze, it was inevitable, surely, that at this one – the last of Olympics for him, now an athlete in his twilight years – he would do better. Surely, this was inevitable? This was the weight of expectation he carried on his shoulders as he stepped into that ring. As Captain of Team Nigeria and veteran competitor, surely, if nobody else could do it, he could? This was the weight. And, as it had been 4 years before, I could not watch. So, I stayed close to my phone, waiting. And when it came it was like when we were children, when his every failure to get it broke my heart. Yes. In London – after everything he had been through to get there – he lost his very first fight. And ended his dream of Gold at the Olympics.

Honestly, I don’t know. Between the person in it, and the one watching them go through it, I don’t know who suffers more. Honestly. But when Life raises its hammer up to the skies and brings it crashing down on your life, that is when you are in the best position to find out who you truly are. Yes. This is what my people mean when they say, ‘mberede ka-eji a ma dike’. I tell you. Greatness, true greatness, is always a come-back act. No doubt. And if you have not yet passed through your own Dark Night of the Soul, I tell you, no matter how much you think you have achieved, you are not yet at full potential. So, to encourage him, at the time – I wrote him a poem. But, as it is in life, this was not what resurrected him. No. It was him realizing for himself that, always, when God slams a door in your face it is because He wants you to take a second look around. And that is what my brother eventually did. He raised his head and took a second look around. And that is how we come to the story of this Lizzy I keep talking about…You see? But it is not good to write too much on Facebook, is it? So, let us leave the concluding part till next week.

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I KNOW WHY LIZZY WEPT (PART 3)
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I’ll tell you this, Nicholas is not your typical Nigerian. For one, he practices what he studied. You know? Not like us who read Library Science and are running hair salons. You know? Or Law and are now writing poems. I tell you, Nigeria is the universal condition that bends the crayfish. But not Nicholas. No, Nicholas is what he studied – a Guidance Counsellor. That is One. Two, when he sees Abuja Environmental chasing street hawkers, he does not dwell on the irony of government destroying jobs in a jobless economy. No. He dwells on how fast those kids run to escape. And should he catch up with one such out-of-breath child, he is the type of Nigerian who asks, ‘Come, have you ever considered Athletics?’ Yes. This is Nicholas.

Yes. This is the Nicholas that, one day – 7 years ago – went to Government Secondary School Lugbe for work. And, on his way out, noticed some students chatting. One of them was so tall she towered above the others. This is what he noticed. So, he went to this girl, on account of her striking height, and asked if she was interested in Sports. In typical teenager fashion (she was 15), she shrugged and said, ‘I guess so’. So, he gave her his number. ‘Give this to your parents please. And let them call me.’ That girl was Lizzy. And two days ago, the Chika Chukwumerije Sports Foundation (CCSF) organized a reception to welcome her back from the Tokyo Olympics.

You see? It was at this reception that I met Lizzy’s parents. They are the type of Christians we may respectfully call ‘jim-jim’. You know? Not the type you think would free a teenage girl so easily. But when he was younger, Lizzy’s father was a boxer. But had a coach who, instead of showing him the ropes, told him to submit himself to local science (aka witchcraft) for ultimate success. So, he quit. But, you see, even if you give up on your dreams, your dreams will not give up on you. No. They will haunt you for the rest of your life. So, he thought, maybe Lizzy can make them come true. And made the call.

This is how Lizzy started going to the stadium with her father to meet Nicholas. And there, at the stadium, Yaga spotted her. Yes. The same Yaga I told you about last week. The 3-time Olympian whose quest for Gold ended in heart-breaking disappointment. And had turned that disappointment into a determination to make champions. So, he set up a Foundation, and – like Nicholas – was actively combing through the public school system for prospects. Yes. He was at the stadium that day, training with another brother, Uche, who is himself an African Champion, on account of the fact that our father, many years ago, had invested so passionately in sports that 5 of his 8 children had become National Champions, 2 African Champions, and 1 an Olympic Bronze medallist. Yes. This Yaga was training with this Uche at the National Stadium, when he looked up and noticed Lizzy. Again (apologies to the vertically challenged), it was her height. So, he walked over and said: ‘If you allow me to train you, I guarantee you that you will win gold for Nigeria in Taekwondo’. True. Today, Lizzy is the current national champion in her weight category, and recently won Gold at the Beijing Opens.

And, no, it did not happen by local science. Or jim-jim prayers. It happened by the application of a structured, experience-inspired, evidence-based training program. I tell you, watching Yaga train his team – all discovered in public secondary schools – sprains my ankles. I tell you. Watching them kick gives me back pain. And he tells them too – I want educated champions. You know? That is why – at that reception in her honour – Lizzy spoke with ease. For she is now a 300 level student at FUTO. And, yes, CCSF paid her acceptance fee, and sponsored her through First Year, but she has now made enough money as an athlete to provision for the rest of her time at Uni. Imagine? This was the burden she carried into the ring in Tokyo – this knowledge, of how much had been invested in her, how hard she had trained, how many people were willing her to win. You know? It is one thing to train the body, but only experience can train the mind to handle the pressure of the big moments. So, she lost. And it broke her heart to a million pieces. And, yes, this is why she wept.

But, no matter, we made her smile again. As we gathered to welcome her home. You see? AIT was there. NTA was there. AriseTV was there. Imagine? For a girl who lost her first fight at the Olympics. But we are not typical. No. We do not tune in every four years to watch a fellow Nigerian at the Olympics, and tune out with a hiss the moment they lose. No. Gathered that day were people who understand that, ultimately, to win is to refuse to be defeated by defeat. That is why Yaga organized that reception. For Lizzy was no longer a 15-year-old girl, mentally limited by the fact that she was born in Nigeria to lower-income parents. No. She was now the 28th ranked female Taekwondo player in the whole wide world. And it was important to let her know this, that on days when how far you have to go discourages, how far you have come must encourage. This is all it takes to keep walking…

Now, imagine it. Yes. Imagine it. If instead of chasing hawkers through traffic, Local Government was actively doing what the private citizens in this story are doing. Imagine it. A country so talented a random girl picked from a random school in a random city could, in 7 years, be competing at the Olympics. Just imagine what this country would be.