The Activism Within Me...

Today, as I share from my award nominated book, 'I found my voice', the constant challenge presented to me, is how do I, in the face of so many obstacles, brick walls of cynicism advance my own particular brand of activism, rooted in change.  An activism that can transform lives, make a jot of difference, elevate service to another level and bring relief to so many. 

In the West wing series they share the analogy of the Irish lads whose journey was blocked by a brick wall, seemingly too high to scale. Throwing their caps over the wall, the lads had no choice but to follow. How many times in the great history of our lives have we come to a wall seemingly too high to scale only to throw our caps to the other side? Surely we can make this happen even in Nigeria, Certainly we can jump high enough, following our caps to the other side of the wall of progress!

"I departed from the presence of the Vice-Chancellor and the Senate to return to the halls of residence, then the ground in front of me caved in as I was confronted with the intrusion of my mother and twin sister who were outside, waiting for me, they had been searching for me. My mother’s face convulsed with worry, it was a look I had seen a few times when I would resist her encouragement to resort to the use of drugs to combat the onset of malaria because I had absolute confidence in divine healing. My mother was very concerned and was shocked about the extent of the trouble I had allegedly caused. In the meantime, the Federal Military Government had announced the indefinite closure of the University and the immediate suspension of the Students’ Union.

It took a lot of persuasion from my twin sister to accompany her and my mother to Ekiti. By this time rumours were abound that the Secret Security Service (SSS) were searching for all the Union officials including me. The rugged terrain and lowlands of Usi-Ekiti, my mother’s hometown was an ideal place to hide away and cool off while things settled down.

We travelled through the thickness of the night, emerging through the rugged hills separated by rivers and arrived at my grand uncle’s home. Mr. Agboola was my mother’s uncle and a retired civil servant. There my aches and pains were tended to while we rested. I was insistent that I needed to return to Ile-Ife, but my mother was not persuaded. The compromise reached over breakfast was that I would proceed to and stay in Ibadan from where I could monitor the state of affairs at Ife."

Excepts from the award nominated book: 'I found my voice'