‘ITS NOT YET UHURU’

Uhuru is the Swahili word for freedom and it became the name of a political organisation centered around the principles of Pan-Africanism, which advocated the economic and political liberation of Black Africans on both the continent of Africa and in the diaspora.  It is fitting that I start this chapter exploring the illusionary nature of the freedom I thought the acquisition of power might fetch me.

The school playing fields opposite the Council chambers, where my brother, Adebowale displayed his mastery as a football defender, had long been deserted.  The dust had settled and the winds whistled with tension.  In the midst of this, I needed to consolidate my last move on the chessboard of power.  As part of my strategy to shape events, on the way to the dinning hall, I engaged Cllr. ‘Niran Ade-Onojobi, the School Captain, in a tete a tete.  My concern was to cement my ‘audacious power grab,’ I suggested to him that I needed to address the boys during the dinning hall announcements.  I convinced him it was essential to inform them about the monumental changes that had occurred. Without any hesitation, he granted permission, one I suspect the School Captain came to regret afterwards.

In the dinning hall after a meal of rice garnished and layered with stew, beans and fish the bell sounded, to signal the time for announcements, the air thickened with tension as the clouds of anticipation gathered.  Various prefects made routine announcements in what seemed like quick succession but I paid scant attention to them.   While this was going on, I got more impatient and I thought:

“….  This is my time, this is my hour, and I need to speak now!”

My eyes danced around with anticipation and after Prefect Uzodike of McKee-Wrights’ House had spoken, without warning I rose abruptly and found myself strolling to the front of the Prefects’ table placed at the front of the hall.   The hall was ‘T’ shaped and any speaker who stood at the centre could be seen and heard from the three different directions.   I bore my files as a prop to indicate a sense of purpose and serious intent; I was still in my full school uniform, with a blue blazer to match.  All eyes shifted towards my direction, the focus was intense, students held their gaze and prefects were stunned.  My voice stern and purposeful, bounced around the columns supporting the structure of the dinning hall:

“…. Fellow compatriots, boys, gentlemen, a monumental decision was taken tonight; the Council in its wisdom dissolved the Cabinet.  It is regrettable but we must move forward.  Pursuant to this all Cabinet, members are now required to hand over all Council property in their possession to the Council Secretariat.  Further details will follow about the reconstitution of a new Cabinet in due course.  In the meantime, all members of Committees should remain in place and await further instructions.  Thank you for your co-operation.”

Immediately after the dramatic announcement the hall broke into uncontrolled chatter, I was told afterwards that the prefects’ faces betrayed their fury.  I could not see them because they were seated behind me as I addressed the boys.  But I did not wait for the aftermath; with the same abruptness, I stormed out of the dinning hall and trod into my office to review the events of the day and to plan with ‘AD99’, the Assistant Secretary.  ‘AD99’ to his credit thought I had gone too far and too fast this time, but remained loyal.  After a decent interval filled with further consultations with ’Emeka Nwaojigba, Bibi and other members of the ‘Panafism Orientation Committee’ I left for the residence of Mr. Fabiyi to render a full and complete account of my stewardship as acting Chairman.  I arrived there only to discover that the dissolved Cabinet had already met with Mr. Fabiyi.    

The role of the Secretary of the Students’ Council was not just record keeping; he was also responsible for conveying Council resolutions and bills to the President, the PKC (Principal, King’s College) for action.  It was his duty to persuade the PKC to respond to the will of the House.  Prior to my taking over the office of Secretary, very few bills were ever passed but we had the distinction of passing seven bills by the end of our tenure.  The bills addressed a wide range of issues promised in my manifesto and ensured that despite my obvious faults, my popularity remained high and many still greeted me with shouts of ‘Panafism, Yankari!’.  Imperviously, I assumed it was all down to me, but in reality, it was a team effort.  My office became a refuge for me away from times of study, a place where I could avoid the ‘school’s lights out’, an engine room of ideas, and it also acted as the treasury where the Council funds were kept before its deposit in the bank.

My announcement had set the whole school in uproar and the boys were all in excitetable chatter, huddled together.  Rumours abound that I was now more powerful than the prefects.  A few boys led by Sanni a fourth former approached me and enquired whether the making of dinning hall announcements would now become a routine by me.  Some felt I had broken with tradition, for only prefects should make announcements they reasoned.  Outwardly, I appeared supremely confident but inwardly I was pensive and conflicted, and began to wonder whether the path I trod that night was the right one.   I mused:

“If my father had been around what would he have counseled?”

It was as if the air had been sucked out of me as I worried about Mr. Fabiyi. I wondered will he offer me his support or would he support the dissolved Cabinet?  What of the PKC?  He was not my greatest fan, would he reverse my decision and cut me down to size?’  My mind exploring, was in a constant whirl! 

I retreated across the long forlorn footpaths towards my dormitory in Panes’ House, selected a fresh change of clothes from my wardrobe.   I reasoned this was the time for my trademark white ‘Danshiki’, black fez cap and pair of black trousers. I reckoned if I was going down, it had to be in style and confidence.  I lifted up the bucket of water placed under my bed, had a quick wash with a bowl scooping from it the water in the shower room that had ceased to function due to a malfunction in the power pump.  I then wore my clothes and strode out into a dark and uncertain night.  As I walked slowly, 1 was filled with arrogance and a stubborn streak emerged from within me for I still thought my actions had been completely justified.

I filtered through my thoughts, focused on the past, the journeys I made to Victoria Island, Suru-Lere and Akoka, all at my own expense, to get the Council reinstated.  The logic replayed in my mind was while these boys were busy playing games, partaking in social endeavours, studying and doing whatever teenagers got up to I was making sacrifices on their behalf.  I thought these chaps were seeking to reap where they certainly did not sow.   At a time when Godly counsel would have been apt, when prayer might have been the healing balm, I simply leaned upon my own strength and understanding and I certainly was not being very Christian now.