₦airaland Forum

“Parents listen to your children (children)
We are the leaders of tomorrow (morrow)
Come and pay our school fees
And give us sound education”.

In quote is one of my favorite marching songs in my primary school days. “Leaders of Tomorrow”, this phrase rang bell in the song. I lost count of the number of times my headmistress employed those words.

We remained leaders of tomorrow in the secondary school, as our principal and teachers admonished us to be worthy in character and learning as expected of leaders of tomorrow. There was no difference in the University. My University’s motto is Probitas Doctrina (meaning character and learning), this translates to the fact that we were been prepared to occupy leadership position in the near future.

While in the NYSC orientation camp, some of the invited lecturers still addressed us (corp members) as leader of tomorrow. I asked myself, “ how long will I dwell in this leaders of tomorrow phase; when is tomorrow, WHEN??

Some individuals who dominated the scene yesterday have failed to quit the stage. The emergence of grey hair whispers nothing to their selfish minds. They have failed to chart a noble course for the supposed leaders of today. They had neither mission nor vision; they were busy breaking new records in corrupt practices – topping the charts of most corrupt leaders.

My appreciation goes to parents who heeded our call of “come and pay our school fees and give us sound education”. Your labour of Love over us shall not be in vain. You did not only pay our school fees, you parted with your hard earned money to take care of our most basic needs.

Greedy, selfish and visionless leaders have failed our generation, our Ivory towers now produce “unemployable, half-baked graduates”- using their words. Who is to blame? Those institutions once produced well round graduates.

My heart goes out to the supposed leaders of today who are tagged Leaders of tomorrow. Let not your spirits be dampened. We shall overcome!!! Do not give in to despair. The values of hardwork, determination and will power have got no alternatives.

For those at the verge of giving-up, don’t give up! Never give up! If you do, what becomes of generations unborn; you don’t have them in mind?

For those who have taken to cutting corners and other ill values, I sympathize with them. I make a passionate appeal that they give up whatever ill values they have acquired. Winners don’t Give up, winners ask for what is right, they will not mind fighting for what is right. Cowards give up, don’t be a coward.

I have no doubt, we shall OVERCOME!!!!

Amen Emma. Yemi, its good to know we share the same surname - God is Great. Thank you shroud, i will post my other works.

The account in this writing is 70% true; the other 30% is complementary. The names used in this writing are not real names. They are fictitious. I wrote this piece since 2008 I just found the manuscript and decided to share it with you.

Yesterday, I stayed late at work; I had formed the habit of staying back for an extra hour after the day’s work. This practise is not unconnected with the heavy traffic that characterized the Victoria Island-Lekki-Jakande-Ajah route at evenings. I had my phone alarm set to 6pm daily, once it 6pm, I made for the bus stop.

This fateful day, my phone alarm failed me. The office lightings left me with no clue that the day was far spent. I glanced at my watch, and found that it was 7pm. I hurriedly shut down my official desktop computer and made for the bus stop.

My office is located on Oyin Jolayemi Str. Victoria Island Lagos, the bus stop, is at Ajose Adeogun Street a walkable distance from my workplace. With quick steps, I dashed to the bus stop. As I approached the bus stop, I was greeted by a large crowd of commuters; an indication that the commercial vehicles plying the route were inadequate. Everyone was on the lookout for the green and white buses that plied the Lekki –Jakande - Ajah route.

I had my phone alarm to blame for my present predicament. What on earth happened to it, who tampered with it? I was lost in thought until my eyes lured me away. It caught sight of a young beautiful damsel, Chai! the babe fine die (translation: she was very beautiful.) I can’t believe a beauty queen of her class was left to walk the streets alone at night. Does she have a boyfriend? How about her parents? How can they leave her to walk the streets alone this late?

My head gained control over my eyes, my thoughts shifted to how to get a bus home. My phone rang, it was my elder brother. “Where are you?” he queried. It was unusual of me to stay out this late. I replied, “Bro, I will explain when I get home”. My phones clock displayed 7:45pm.

Chineke! I almost exclaimed but decency took the better part of me, my sight fell on a lady I describe as beauty spelt in human form. Her beauty put that of the former lady in a lower grade. She reminded me about the stories I have heard about mermaids, how they take up human form and seduce their victims with beauty extraordinaire.

The most recent of such account was one given by Mr. Agboola, my neighbor. He narrated how as a young man, he drove past a Street in Victoria Island Lagos and caught sight of a beautiful damsel. He thought about the excitement of passing the night with her; a way to crown the evening after hanging out with his friends at a popular bar in Victoria Island.

He pulled over one metre away from her, then walked down to her and asked if he could give her a ride. After much persuasion, she agreed to have a ride in his car. As the journey progressed, he introduced the idea of her passing the night at his place. Again, after much persuasion, she agreed. He had begun flirting with her in his mind. This led to some cheek pulling and lap caress.

As they approached Marina Bridge, she requested him to halt. He took her request for a joke. My dear, I don’t live under the bridge, he replied. Her insistence made him take a quick look at her. He noticed that her countenance had changed. Her eyes dilate and the colour of her eyes turned whitish-blue.

His heart began to pound; the merriment and excitement in his heart vanished at once. He slammed his leg on the brake pedal. She had barely alighted from the car when she disappeared into thin air before his eyes. Mr. Agboola said this experience help shaped his marriage positively as he vowed never to indulge in fornication or extra marital affair when he eventually marries.

Goddamn! I just missed a bus, musing over a lady who doesn’t know about my existence. As I rued my miss, I saw a familiar face. It was Mr. Okpanachi; he worked as a Civil Engineer in the same establishment with me. We exchange pleasantries. He narrated how his vehicle developed some mechanical faults as a result he was unable to drive to work.

Mr Okpanachi hails from the Igala speaking part of Kogi state. His looks gave him away as a middle age man in his mid-forties. He was lucky not to have his face ‘mutilated” with the six (6) facial tribal marks – 3 on both sides of the cheeks, which characterized individuals of Igala descent.

As a senior Engineer, he stays late at work occasionally whenever there is need for extra MAN hours to meet clients deadline. He told me his wife must be worried, as all effort to reach her on phone proved abortive.He kept talking about how worried his wife would be. His phone rang; I noticed a mild grin on his face before answering the call. It must be his wife I thought. I picked these words from their conversation, “Sweet heart, I have been trying to reach you, ………………………………… see you soon dear, I love you”.

A private jeep pulled over beside us, the driver shouted Ajah, Mr Okpanachi hurriedly secured a seat in the Jeep. By now, it was 8:30pm. I would have secured a space in the Jeep as well but I am never comfortable with commuting in private cars used for commercial purposes. As a young child, I heard accounts of how unsuspecting adults are kidnapped for ritual purposes via private-commercial vehicles. I understand some private drivers are in the habit of commercializing their bosses’ vehicle whenever the opportunity arises. I was not willing to take any risk.

With great expectation, I waited the next bus. By 9:00pm, i was on my way home. I sat at the far right on the last seat of the bus. The traffic was dense; as such a distance that should be covered in 10minutes will span for an hour.

My mind probed its encounter with the two damsels and the chat with Mr. Okpanachi. Does anything relate them? Mr. Okpanachi is not a newlywed, how come he is so attached to his wife in a manner that lives nothing to the imagination –no love is lost between them. Is it her beauty that endeared her to him? But there are other beautiful young women everywhere, I am sure his wife is not the most beautiful woman he has set his eyes on.

As a bachelor, I set my eyes on ladies that qualify for beauty queens on daily basis. Their class of beauty sometimes unique and not comparable; therefore, the question of choosing between them does not arise. If beauty is my criteria for marriage, then I should be set to live a polygamous life.

But Mr. Okpanachi, Mr Father and other men of virtue and substance (who are faithful to their marital vows) must have found something more than beauty in their spouses.

On the average, bachelors admire ladies with straight legs, well rounded hips, equipped frontage and formidable backside. Spinsters talk about tall, handsome, charming men for partners. With so much premium placed on looks and purse, you find ladies who qualify to be mothers in the singles “mall” searching for Mr. right. - Mr. right had longed passed by. Also, you find potential fathers in the singles “mall” searching for Mrs right – Mrs right had longed passed by but she had no heavy backside……..

The premium placed on looks, fame, money may also explain why some young couples go their separate ways shortly after exchanging marital vows.

My fellow bachelors, making appearance the number one criteria for choosing a life partner is great danger. Marriage is far beyond looks. Physical beauty fades; it vanishes as does a flower plucked from a stem. Moreover, beauty is “bought” in our present age, the Brazilian hair, artificial eye lashes, the different shades of crayons and paints (eye pencils, eye shadow, lips sticks, pancake, etc). Look for value; hold onto value and virtue. These two don’t fade.

The above thoughts flashed through my mind. As the bus approached Maruwa bus stop, the bus conductor shouted Maruwa! Maruwa bus stop dey, I replied. I am home at last.

Two weeks after this experience, I was going for lunch break when a pretty woman who appeared to be in her late 30s approached me. She asked if I knew XYZ company at Oyin Jolayemi Street. I gave her the directions. Her manner of approach and choice of words bared politeness and humility.

As I returned to work, Mr. Okpanachi was walking the woman down the road. He called at me, Babatunde, come and meet my wife. Virtue is Key!!!!
Thanks for reading.

The piece you are about to read, is a true life story spiced with creativity to make it interesting, entertaining and memorable. Enjoy as you read.

Here is a true life account of my experience with Lady Roseline Ebunoluwa Olorunfemi. Her dear friend, Mr. Olorunfemi introduced me to her in the mid-80s. How long will he be staying she queried. I cut in and said Nine (9) months Ma. She helped me with my luggage and showed me to the guest room.

While the negotiation ensued between her and her friend, I stole several looks at Lady Rose, she was a beauty to behold. Her kind of beauty is not one you find every day; she qualifies for the African queen described by Nigeria music sensation Tuface Idibia in his song AFRICAN QUEEN. Her dark skin glimmers. My eyes coined the adjective “Duduyemi” to describe her.

After her friend’s departure, she confirmed to me that she was not charging me a dime for the accommodation. In her words, it is my pleasure to have you under my roof.

Lady Rose, was exceptionally hospitable, I am yet to experience the kind of hospitality she showed me. I had hardly settled when she rushed into the kitchen, peeled a half tuber of yam, sliced them into small pieces, washed them and put them in pot. As the yam boiled on the gas cooker, she showed me to the bathroom.

While having my shower, I heard a sound synonymous to mortar and pestle, I mused in my heart; I hope Lady Rose is not pounding yam by herself. I do not expect a queen like her to put herself through all that stress.

Knowing that I was whole heartedly welcomed by my host, I felt at home naturally. After my bath, I freshened up and wore a causal look in a blue shirt and black jean trouser. I heard a soft knock at my door, who is there, I queried? The response I got was, “Your food is ready”. I was not expecting her to prepare my meals, after providing me with such comfortable accommodation. I will be asking too much to be a pest on her for nine months.

The aroma of her soup hit me on my nose, this left me salivating. Ma, don’t worry about food, you should not have put yourself through all that stress for my sake. You should have waited for me to pound the yam. Her face was lit with smiles, her silence spoke these words, “it’s my pleasure”.

I took my place at the dining table, the sight of the food was one to behold - you find such on the banquets for nobles. My bowels emptied themselves. I ate with patience; I did not want to finish the food in a hurry. The soup was made from waterleaf and ugwu leaves, spiced with stocked fish, dry fish and other assorted meat. The soup reminded me of the menus I read about Calabar soups at “heaven bookshop”.

At nightfall, I retired to my room; I spent the rest of the night admiring the architectural master piece of its interior. Everything was just perfect, the paintings, the furniture, beddings e.t.c

On the wall hung a photo of Lady Rose and Mr. Olorunfemi. Another was one of her, Mr. Olorunfemi and two beautiful kids. She later introduced them as Ayodeji and Oluwatoyin.

Mr. Olorunfemi who introduced me to her was always checking on me, asking after my wellbeing and confirms if I am of good conduct. He worked with Nigeria Agricultural and Cooperative Bank, now Bank of Agriculture (BOA). His office was not so far away, I guess this afforded him the opportunity to visit her during his break hours.

As the months rolled by, I thought what will become of me at the end of nine months. I did not want to believe I will forgo the enjoyment that characterized my present accommodation. Food, light, water…. Just name it.

At the end of nine months, it was time to leave my accommodation; the thought of it saddened me. I worked up a plan. On the 16th of April 198?…., I locked myself up in my room. Madam rose screamed at my name but I did not respond to her call. She screamed help!!! at the top of her voice, this coincided with Mr. Olorunfemis visit. After she briefed him what was happening, he hurried to his car and drove off.

In a short while, he was back with a Man wearing white clothes and 3 other women who I later learnt to be Doctor and nurses. The doctor and the others wore a finger like material on their hands. I watched all that transpired while peeping through the key hole. They were determined to force the door open.

The man in white was their lead; he shouted the word PUSH!!! Whenever he did, I felt a heavy force trying to pull down the door to my room. In the bid to have a clearer view of what was happening, I decided to peep through the opening between the door and the floor. Unfortunately, the Man in white was also nursing the same thought with me.

As soon as I put my head to the ground, our eyes meet; he quickly grabbed me by the head. The opening was just enough to force me out of my room. I could not hold back my tears, the tears took their source from two thoughts. The first, “is this how to pay mama Rose for her kindness?” The other, “I have to wake to the reality of self-survival”.

The doctor gently pulled me by the head, afterwards he held me in his arms like a warrior who had just overcame his enemy. He walked up to my host and presented me to her. The looks in her eyes were those of gratitude, excitement, joy and love. They seem to mean, “Thank God he is safe and alive”. Her screams, tears had made way for smiles that characterized her person.

Having seen the look in her eyes, my fears melted away. She held me in her arms and feed me with pure milk which I was later taught in biology to be COLOSTRUM. The End – See how kind my Landlady was.

I dedicate this writing to the memory of my mother, Mrs. Remilekun Ebunoluwa Olorunfemi. 2013 makes it 10 years she departed this world. I have other creative writings inspired by her. I will put them together to create an online memorial for her.

TRIBUTE TO MY MOTHER
Ten years ago, we grieved about your physical absence from us. We wore heavy hearts, teary eyes and sullen faces to register our displeasure with death.

Ten years on, we celebrate your life. A life best described by one word, “SELFLESS”. You came into our lives and showed us love. You loved and loved until it hurt. Many times, we wondered if you ever had time for yourself; you dedicated much time making others happy.

You are our definition of a virtuous woman, the good thing God blessed our lives with. You were the fruitful vine from which Ayodeji, Oluwatoyin and Oloruntobiloba sprang.

Your few but affirmative words continue to make huge imparts in our lives as they did in the lives of all those who crossed your path.

The memories we share evokes thankful hearts. We recognize your impart in our present lives and so reiterate, “To live in our hearts, is not to die”. Remilekun, Ebunoluwa Olorunfemi LIVES ON!!!

Continue to rest in the bossom of the Lord.
Fondly remembered by: Husband A.M Olorunfemi, Children, friends and relatives.