My Dad loved me so much.

Year 2000.

I was yet a teenager, fresh out of secondary school. Never been out of Lagos, except for few travels to the village, with my parents of course, and to my big cousin's place in Asaba in what was my first real holiday.

But all that was going to change soon.

Through the the encouragement of my then class Teacher, Mr. Walter Udobang, I had registered and sat for Jamb exam in May, (while yet waiting to sit for my SSCE) where I fortunately scored 257. Then the wait for either Uniport or FUTO to consider me for admission. I wanted to study Petroleum and Gas Engineering.

In September of the same year, I got the wind that my score was high enough to get me admitted. And after waiting for what seemed like eternity for Jamb to send my admission letter as was the norm back then, to no avail, it was decided that we need to visit the schools for confirmation of my admission.

Surprised? Don't be. There was not much of internet back then as we have now, and Jamb was so analogue, one had to stay on a terribly long queue to check their results at Jamb offices nationwide. To stand a chance, you must leave your house early enough, or be ready to oil the palm of the many touts who parade themselves as Jamb officials, and stand the risk of either losing your money or getting a fake result.

Mid November, my dad decided he was going to take me to both schools to confirm my admission status. So I packed my bag and we headed to the village in IMO state, our base to both FUTO and Uniport.

Our first stop was in FUTO, a day after we arrived the village. With direction from good Samaritans we found the Department of Petroleum Engineering, and soon we were seated in the office of the Admission Officer, not without a long wait though. To my chagrin and my Dad's disappointment, the admission officer told us to go to home, that I have been offered admission in Uniport. Should I be offered another admission here, he continued, Jamb will cancel both admissions and I'd have to come back next year, if I get a high score, that is.

He was yet talking, when my dad and I, thanked him, and practically ran out of his office. See wahala. Cancel Wetin? But while leaving, one man stopped us and said the admission officer had lied to us. He said that my admission here has been sold to those who had money, seeing that I had a high score. Fam, I was far from caring, I wanted to be in Uniport to confirm the words of the Admission officer.

I don't think I slept well that night when we got home. I couldn't stop thinking about the possibility of losing my admission. I even prayed about it. For obvious reason, I woke up quite early, as did my dad, and before time, we were set on our way to Port Harcourt. My first time ever. November 17, 2000.

We boarded a bus from Arugo Park, Owerri to Port Harcourt was N150 I think. I remember the driver, a fair guy, they called him Iyke. Friendly guy. I remember him because it was him who also brought us back to Owerri from Port Harcourt, in the evening of the same day.

The bus stopped us a Rumuokoro Park, and we boarded another bus to Uniport, transport fare was N15. We got to Choba, sought for direction to the department of Petroleum Engineering. On getting into Choba Campus, we couldn't find the department o. My dad and I, spent over 20 minutes turning round and round what I later got to know as the "Solution tree" area. JJC na we be, we no kee person.

Finally, and luckily, we found the office of the HOD, tucked into a tight corner in a building, just right in front of us. Chai, the thing pain me. On getting there, there wasn't any need to see the HOD, as right before us, pasted on the notice board, was the almighty admission list. With my name, boldly and pretty sitting on the fifth position. And thus ended our Admission ultimate search.

The joy and excitement on my dad's face was palpable. I could see the pride in his eyes and satisfaction in his voice as he told me congratulations, my son, you have done noble. On our way home, I recall my dad buying almost everything I asked for. He wore the very bright smile until we got home, and then back to Lagos. A happy man, a proud father.

Back in Lagos, it was time to prepare for life in the University. I was already feeling all grown up, big boy and all. I mean I had just gained admission into the almighty University of Port Harcourt. After the usual celebration, amidst plenteous prayers and advise, the reality of my first time out of the house alone, and away from my dotting parents and protective sisters dawned. I was excited. Freedom beckons, or so I thought.

Then came the time for registration. My dad came through again. He wasn't going to let me go alone. He wasn't going to allow me go to Port Harcourt with my school fees, a whopping sum of Five Thousand, Four Hundred Naira (N5400). Yes, that was my school fees in 100 level.

So on the 10th of January, 2001, we were back in Uniport to commence registration and pay all payable, many thanks to my elder brother who magnanimously provided the fund. Dad was in tow, I followed behind. When we got to the Choba Community Bank, amidst the crowd of those wanting to pay their respective fees, something happened.

Whether it was the mammoth crowd of students that I saw, or whatever it was I ate, I couldn't tell, all I knew was that, I was having what seem like the mother of all stomach upsets. I motioned to my dad, pointing to my stomach and twisting my finger to relate to what was going on in my stomach. Do you want to use the toilet he asked, I replied positively.

Fiam, he beckoned to the nearest security man he saw for help. My son is sick, he said; can you please show him to your toilet? He pleaded. The security man motioned a now weak me to where the toilet was. I managed to find my way there and the rest was history, like they say. The need to poo, caused by stomach upset isn't funny. In the comfort of their toilet, I just pooed away.

I must have spent what seem like forever in there, because I heard the security man knocking, while almost shouting "Are you not done?" "Come out, your dad is worried o"I also heard my dad's voice. Ikenna, Ikenna he screamed. Ah, I didn't even know what was happening outside. I tidied up, came out, to the desperate look on my father's face. Apparently, owing to the time I had spent in the toilet, he was worried for me, and had gone to ask the security man where he took me to, and when it was taking forever, his friendly disposition gave way and he was almost taking it out with the security man. My old man, no wan hear story that touch the heart.

That was it fam, my dad was relived when I came out, feeling much better. He apologized to the security man and also thanked him for his help. Thereafter we paid the school fees, and set back to the village.

Soon it was time for my Matriculation. It was March 3rd 2001. My dad showed up again to celebrate with and encourage me. Though I didn't have food and drinks like some of my mates had to share. I was proud to have my dad, as I'd be so proud to have him once more again.

Just one more time with him again.

It's 5 years without him, but how I miss him. Keep resting dad. Forever in my heart.

#Memories #MyDadandI #RestOnDad
Culled from Facebook page of Ikechukwu Stanley OKafor

awwwwwn check my profile for data deals