I called Dayo aside to ask if we had any chance of making it into the school in view of what the teacher had said about the number of people that would be finally admitted out of the multitude of desperate humanity that came for the interview. He consoled me with my “Igbobi alternative” whereas he had no substitute. We were so worried about our chances that we had to go to a corner to work on possibilities and impossibilities, assumptions and realities, hypotheses and refutations.
As a former “Pool House” clerk, my knowledge of permutations came in handy. We had to work on the numbers of forms sold and returned. We used my number (4040) as the unit of analysis. First, we assumed that nobody collected admission form after me. Two, we hypothesized that not everybody who collected the form would return it. We also guessed that not everybody that collected the form would make five credits. We made provision for accident victims and untimely deaths. We equally considered those who had gained admission into the University through JAMB and those who had secured admission in Polytechnics, Colleges of Education. In addition, we remembered those who might have traveled out and so on and so forth. Despite our delusional sorting, the leftovers were still between 2000 and 2500. Yet, they wanted 75 for Science and 75 for Arts which was our own major concern. This is the kind of scenario you get when an individual is desperate for a favourable outcome of a critical condition-wild goose chase. For instance, what was our business with what was purely administrative and academic matters for the school to resolve? The futility of our endeavour became obvious when all our conclusions and projections, copied neatly on some sheets of paper, ended in our pockets as comforting article of hope.
They had come to address us again after over three hours of screening our results in the school hall. They told us the screening did not resolve the admission quagmire as many of us were still qualified despite the screening. They had to hold an emergency meeting on our case. Their final decision was that we were all going to write a “sudden death” examination on the three subjects we wanted to study at the Advanced levels. In my own case, I would have to answer questions on Englísh Literature, Economics and History. There was an uproar by most of us because most of us had thrown away our books on the last day of our WAEC exam as souvenirs to the “inventors of education”.
Unfortunately too, there were some of us who had not opened any of the books again since we wrote our last paper. But the school was adamant .We must write the “sudden death” exam. Without wasting any time, they led us straight to the different classes where we would write the exam. The classes were divided into Arts and Science. The way the seats were arranged, we occupied about ten classes. When they gave us the question papers, we noticed that there were two questions under each subject with an instruction at the top of the paper that we should answer all questions. This meant answering six essay questions in one exam. This time, the uproar was greater than the first one. Our contention was that we were asked to come for oral interview not written examination. While the protest was on, the school principal had been invited to intervene. Eventually, the Principal told us to answer one question per subject thus reducing it to three overall instead of six. Immediately, we all started writing. For History, I answered the question on Sokoto Jihad of 1804. It was my best topic in History any time, any day. In Economics, my choice was elasticity and inelasticity of demand while in literature, I chose to do a literary appreciation of Wole Soyinka’s poem “Telephone Conversation”. Having been told to come back and check the result, we all departed with a resolve not to default. Who could ignore a school with such an ambience of peace!
Meanwhile, the tension in Ayetoro was no where as serious as the tension in the country. The whole nation was anxious to hear the verdict of the Supreme Court on Chief Awolowo’s petition over Shagari’s declaration by FEDECO as the newly elected President of Nigeria. On Wednesday, 26 September 1979, the Supreme Court finally gave its verdict in a split judgement. The lead judgement, which was the majority judgement, was read by the Chief Justice of the Federation, Justice Atanda Fatayi-Williams with the syndicated concurrence ofJustices Mohammed Bello, Mohammed Uwais, Andrews Otutu Obaseki, Ayo Gabriel Irikefe and Chike Idigbe. There was a dissent judgement (minority judgement dubbed Esocracy by mischievous members of the National Party of Nigeria) because the judgement was that of Justice Kayode Eso, by Justice Kayode Eso and for Justice Kayode Eso as the judgement was not applicable to the prevailing political reality. But there is no doubt that it is useful for posterity. While the Chief Justice admitted in the lead judgement that the electoral law was clumsily phrased, he said this did not in anyway create any kind of semantic ambiguity. Convinced that there was something wrong and weird about the judgement, the Supreme Court warned that the verdict must never be cited as a precedent in future cases. In the words of the CJN Fatayi-Williams: “Until returns can be computerized in this country, the “mathematical canon of interpretation” put forward by Professor Ayodele Awojobi (first petitioner’s witness) in his testimony before the court will remain impractical and legally unacceptable.” This was a direct reference to Prof. Awojobi’s submission at the Presidential election Tribunal that “there were 38,760 possible two-thirds of Kano State going by local government Areas and that in the absence of a computer, it will take at least one year to declare the result with respect to two-thirds of Kano State”.
In his dissenting judgement, Justice Kayode Eso argued that the election was marred by fraud, corruption and irregularities and that Chief Awolowo had proved his case that two-thirds of 19 is 12.66 and not 13 and the result should therefore be declared null and void as Alhaji Shehu Shagari had not been validly elected.
Attention shifted to the tension in Compro when we heard that the results of the “sudden death” exam had been released. The euphoria of success, victory and conquest is always understandably wild. There is something about these three phenomenal attainments: they announce your arrival into a new level in life. Every success pushes you to a new level of existence hence the reason for your celebration. Any individual who fails to celebrate victory or success is knocking on the door of sadism. Why do we labour for conquest if we cannot blow the trumpet of victory? The day I saw my name among the 150 people admitted into the HSC class of Comprehensive High School, Ayetoro, marked the dawn of a new social psychology in my life. The transition from the street to power was beginning to evolve as I began a new phase in an enviable tower with children of those in power. In our time, to gain admission into Comprehensive High School, Ayetoro, it was either your father was a man of power or you were cerebral. My father wined and dined with those in power but he himself was not a man of power. He socialized with those who passed through the ivory tower but he barely could call himself a man of letters. Such is the ambivalence of social psychology.
Senior did something strange when I was going to resume in my new school. He was the one who told Iya Ibadan and Maama (the woman who finally facilitated my return to Senior’s house) that my mother should not come close to me by even an inch of a metre. My mother complied obediently by not visiting me. But I was seeing her regularly for as long as Iya Laisi had not stopped selling rice. Crossing the Western Avenue highway from Milo to Paddington to buy rice at Iya Laisi’s was a regular game for us. You could be sent on errand across the road as many times as possible. I did that frequently and I saw my mother as many times as I wanted, embargo or no embargo. Her house is on the same street with Iya Laisi’s. Placing a ban on a son from seeing his mother is an unnatural decision that disrespects the filial affection existing between mother and son. A father who prohibits a child from seeing his mother may end up carrying the baggage of animus himself . A child deals with his mother based on his own personal conviction about the mother’s character and not by proxy contermination The bond between a mother and her child is too strong to succumb to prohibitions. Restrictions that are insensitive to emotions are vulnerable to protestation. Children should be given the privilege of natural interaction with any of their parents and under no circumstances should this discretion be violated or desecrated if peace must reign in that family.
In the admission package given to us, we were instructed to come with all manner of utensils, implement, groceries and bedding. In addition, we were to pay N75 for accommodation, uniforms and feeding. There were no school fees. This was courtesy of the new UPN government in power in Ogun State led by Governor Olabisi Onabanjo. Senior’s condition for the payment of the 75 naira was that my mother must buy all these materials and groceries popularly called “provisions”. On the day I was to travel to Ayetoro, Senior was dressed for work. My mother arrived with all the boxes including the ones I inherited from iya Ibadan’s property. The way my luggage was packaged would make a mockery of a village headmaster. The cutlasses, the hoes, the buckets, the garri, the Geisha etc. My dressing too and the way I carried my “Ajase Boxmanteau” on my head, it all looked like I was going for “Agbeloba competition” in a village called Ayetoro. A mischievous writer, seeing my parents following me to school, would be right to cast a title like “Dapo Goes To School” or better still: ” Dapo Returns to his Village with Mummy and Daddy” for his movie. Senior did not help matter at all by going to Ayetoro with us when it was not in his plan. Though when he changed his mind to follow me to school, I said: “Awwwnnnnn, so Senior liked me this much, until I discovered that till we got to Ayetoro, his eyes were fixed on my mother’s maxi skirt and halter top.” He was just full of admiration for the clothes. I was now wondering whether he followed me sincerely or “intentionally”. We didn’t get to Ayetoro until evening time. I was so worried about them because they left for Lagos very late. However, I was happy to hear later that they got to Lagos safely in a letter sent to me through my childhood friend, Segun Omolodun who came to Lagos for the weekend. Segun was living in Hogan Bassey Crescent just a stone’s throw from my mother’s house.
I was given accommodation in Blue House in a four-man room with three others. Having been told that the juniors could steal our uniforms, I decided to write my form number (4040) instead of writing my name on the uniforms. Instantly, students turned it to my nickname and I became known as 4040 or senior 4040.
In less than three weeks of getting to the school, one boy called “Jamba” in form four crossed my path. Yoruba thespians would call our encounter: “Jamba pade Ewu” (The encounter between Accident and Tragedy).
To be continued
