Sam Okwaraji: The Cost Of Dying For A Nation (30 Years Down The Miles)

By Nnamdi Elekwachi

Aba, Imo State, August 1989.

I was admitted at New Era Hospital in Aba, the first time I recall sufferig malaria. My eyes were heavy and my temperature high, so each time the Indian doctor came to my room for ward round check, my late mum interpreted between doctor and patient since I, being the latter, had no more than a smattering of the English language.

That year (1989), I was in primary 1 or 2, a little above a preschooler. But there was this fear deep down which had me ask my mother if I will die. She shut me up reminding me that my birthday was few days away, the sickbed, she said, was not ideal for natal celebrations. The fear instead did increase such that I would not sleep as I feared it might be my last hour.

I was gradually becoming aware of deaths within my neighbourhood. Chichi, had just died after writing her Junior WAEC and the whole residents of Cameroon road, where we lived, had gone to console the grieving mother. Again, our landlord would die after Chichi, but his was the most fearsome for before that death, an owl had perched on a window frame of our neighbours' where it hooted. We were chased indoors by elders who told us such was a bad omen, quite unsightly. It was not long before our landlord kicked the bucket.

The news came to my sickbed also that Sam Okwaraji slumped and died later in a World Cup qualifier between Nigeria and Angola. I do not remember who broke it, but I began to ask myself what happens when people die after these several deaths. Okwaraji was a player everybody loved not just for being too fantastic alone but equally for his hair style. He wore dreadlocks, jerseyed in number 6 and sometimes 8. I would learn much later that for all the times Sam honoured the national invitation, he personally paid for his ticket fare and was about the most disciplined.

The news of the athlete's death was public that calendarists made a calendar of him lying supine where winged angels came to ferry him to the heavens. My mum bought one of the calendars for me and with approval of the hospital management hung same at the hospital's wall. Since I did not recover in time before my birthday, the calendar was a suitable souvenir or gift that lasted for over a year where it was later hung on the wall of our children's room after my discaherge much later.

Upon expiry, my grandmother ordered that the calendar be disposed of, but since there was this book folding exercise common among kids my age where calendars were used to cover or fold notebooks from mutilation and tearing, I used the calendar as a "thick cover" for my exercise book. This way, I was able to preserve Okwaraji, his memory and image postmortem for almost two years.

I remember how Okwaraji's family was promised the world, all or a huge part of which was abandoned if not broken. Only a statue at the Surulere Stadium stands as a totem for the hero who died in active national service. Once, the former governor Lagos State, Babatunde Raji Fashola paid the mother of the late athlete a visit and made some cash donation.

With me drealuck was welcomed and because of Okwaraji, I would get to love the Cameroonian player Cyril Makanaki who like Sam wore dread, also played as a midfielder. Those who watched the 1990 World Cup hosted by Italy will recall Makanaki's exploits during that tournament. That love also went to Rudd Gullit of Holland, another midfielder with dreads. Again, had Okwaraji not slumped, many believed, Nigeria would have qualified for Italia 90. His death dealt a blow on our chances and like when in 1977 (my father told me), Odiye scored an own goal stopping Nigeria from making it to Argentina '88, Nigeria missed out of the mundial. It will take us 4 years to be in the next edition by 1994 in USA, thanks to Clememnce Westerhoorf.

Sam was patriotic to a fault and unfortunately, this has not paid off much. His was unrequited, unrewarded and unremembered patriotism. Those who today we see as our legends in the game had at one point or the other paid us back in our own coins. In 2000 when he captained the Dream Team II, Celestine Babayaro allegedly abandoned his command and flew back to London to serve his Chelsea FC because the then football administration, NFA, did not refund his ticket fare. The same ticket fare Okwaraji would not even take those days. Papilo who should have captained the same Dream Team II of 2000 indulged in truancy for reason best known to him. He later apologized and was forgiven. After his millions of dollars sank in a domestic bank here, Jay-Jay Okocha, it was alleged, skipped a game during the 2006 World Cup qualifier. The result, held many, was our ouster! That ouster took the same Angola against which side Okwaraji died to their first ever World Cup in Germany. I do not intend to make comparisons nor do I seek to diminish other athletes' patriotic zeal, no. They too had their genuine reasons and of this is history equally aware. After all, since Okwaraji died not much has been done for his family where he was the breadwinner, Ph.D student in University of Rome or so.

Our women those days, wore dread which they named and styled after the soccer athlete, Okwaraji.

Even in grassroots sports many have died who are largely forgotten. A certain Kano Pillars defender, Chinedu Udoji...

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