‘DELUSIONS OF POWER’

It was my entry into the boarding house that sowed the seeds of conflict in my mind. In October 1984 at the interview for admission into the Sixth Form at King’s College I was very conflicted, I pictured in my mind that I had some unfinished business at the school’s boarding house and thought the post of School Captain was my natural ‘destiny’.  But when I gave more consideration to the narrowing academic gap with my younger brother, Adebowale, also a student at King’s College, which could disappear I quickly renounced my quest for the ‘delusions of power’.  I had passed the interview conducted by Mr. Abiola, the Hamman’s House Master and History teacher and was sorry to decline the offer of a place for the Sixth Form.

It was not easy but there was the irresistible beckoning of University of Ife.  It was an opportunity to rejoin my twin sister after years of separation, one that dated back to primary school.  In preparation for University, Panaf Olajide Olakanmi had provided me with some ‘tutorials’.  He was clear in his advice, I had to seek peace with power in order to succeed in politics.  It meant mellowing on my Christian profession in order to succeed politically.  In a parody of the scriptures he urged me ‘to seek ye first the kingdom of politics and suggested all other things will be added unto me.’  I reluctantly agreed with the ‘master’ for the lure of office seemed worth it all.

It was in my second year at King’s College that Anthony Ovie-Whiskey introduced me to realities of boarding house life.  He was a fellow member of Panes’ House and stayed in the dormitory next to mine.  He kept me well informed on how to avoid pitfalls and traps.  However, he never seemed able to avoid them himself.  He was constantly on a collusion course with trouble.  ‘O Whiskey’ as we called him was fun to be with, there was not a bad bone in his body, he never intentionally caused harm to anyone and was a sportsman of great distinction.  I liked ‘O Whiskey’ and I resolved that my immediate future would be bright with him around.   He quickly introduced me to Umeh and together we lurked around the school grounds in our free time.

The boarding house opened up a new vista for me, but it was clear it would be no plain sail with the demands of bathroom work and the dormitory duties.  On every Sunday evening at 4pm after a sumptuous meal of Jollof rice (tomato coloured) with choice pieces of prime beef or fish with only the rest period (siesta) intervening, there was the much dreaded bathroom work all junior boys had to contemplate.  My duty was to clean the blocked urinals and I hated it, the stench and the fumes it produced were lethal enough to cause a bout of nausea and vomiting. 

During the weekdays we had the morning inspections by the prefects who ensured that our duties were completed to their satisfaction, failure in this respect was punished with lines of imposition and an instant recall from the dinning hall during breakfast. I missed so many breakfasts simply on account of my ‘imperfectly’ completed bathroom work.  In the background was always the deep resonant voice of Folayan Osekita, the school’s Cadet Unit Commandant to the stern and brooding demeanor of Frank Inok and the philosophical musings of Citizen Nwochocha who had a twin brother, there was much to observe and learn.  Citizen Odiri Oteri was a quiet one but you dared not mess with him and Citizen Babalola rarely smiled at us.  Citizen Ojeyinka on account of the similarity in our names attempted to take me under his wings, Citizen Odunayo impressed me with his Christian faith and my distant cousin Citizen Abayomi Ogunkanmi another Christian in McKee Wright’s House always kept an eye on me.  However, it was to be Uka, a Fourth Former that I became close to for a while. 

Towards the end of my first term Christmas holidays disaster struck!  Suddenly my entire frame was convulsed with stinging pain and I was unable to move around and lay immobilised in my bed.  My mother rushed me to the University of Lagos Health Centre where I was placed on admission for two weeks.  The hospital proceeded with a battery of tests to establish what the matter was but my mother became convinced that it was due to some ill treatment I received in the boarding house.  She thought I feared returning there because of bullying.  In the end under relentless and sustained questioning, I placed Ukah in the frame and unfairly gave him up.  Unfortunately for him, Mr. Ibegbulam had just resumed as the new PKC and was looking for an example to make.  Ukah received a suspension and the way was clear for my return to the boarding house.  The only revelation that was brought to our attention by the Health Centre was that I was a carrier of the sickle cell gene, AS.  A regimen of drugs was prescribed for me, however, a year later when I found Jesus I began to operate on the basis of divine health and discarded the drug regimen.   Anyway, this became my get out of jail card and I was excused from grass cutting and a few other strenuous chores that characterised life in the boarding house.

The legendary ’Tolani Opaneye, the Vice School Captain and Panes’ House Captain was just in F5, a few dormitories from mine.  He was a diminutive sportsman that many feared and you knew never to cross him.  He could subdue a dinning hall into silence with stern looks and repetition of sentences, which resembled a chant.  There was the School Captain, Terrance Onyewuenyi, enigmatic, handsome and cool.  He was soft spoken but he packed a gentle authority, lots of charisma and athleticism into his lean frame. When he ventured into your presence charisma flowed rapidly towards him.  I remember his announcement where he referred to ‘Standards are falling’, which was to become a tour de force and a source of inspiration to many of us.  It was much talked about for months and had a profound effect on the school.

In the year 1978/79 Prefects like, Onyewuenyi, Opaneye, Adeola, Ayanlowo, Adesanwo, Olorunsola (before he left for University of Lagos), Oaiah, Osugo, Longe, Okafor, Okoneh, Owosina, Orette, Onasode, Soneye, Rosanwo and a few others dominated the scene.  I once incurred their collective wrath and I blame my good friend ’Wale Goodluck.  Goodluck was a day student at the time and he had some punishment inflicted upon him for some minor indiscretion.  He was required to write up some imposition but he was lost for words to write.  I noticed his dilemma and decided he was worthy of assistance.  I was close to Citizens Balogun and Sokan and I was in the habit of ease dropping on their ‘gists’ so I had gathered from my memory the various nicknames of the prefects and Sixth Formers.  I relayed all these names to Goodluck suggesting that it would make his imposition much more interesting and hilarious.  ’Wale proceeded on my advice and prompting to write in many of those nicknames at my dictation and submitted it but the matter did not end there.

After Goodluck submitted the imposition, the prefects read it and stumbled across all the mischief contained within it.  Under sustained interrogation, Goodluck gave me up to the prefects.  I was to experience the most sustained of corporal punishments you could imagine.  I was made to rest my shivering frame against the wall, stretch out my arms and then made to pretend I was sitting on an imaginary chair.  This was alternated with my kneeling down with both hands raised above my head.   For what seemed like hours and hours unending, I faced the music in the Prefects’ room and nothing of my pleas for a prerogative of mercy came to anything.  The prefects taught me a lesson I would never forget.  I believe Goodluck being a day student was able to retire to the relative comfort of his home.

After that, I learnt to watch my step and take things steadily.  Later on, we faced the boarding house initiation, a rite of passage that every new boarder had to pass through.  You were required to entertain the boarding house audience with all kinds of performance acts during a Saturday evening; any disapproval meant you were subjected to taking brine under the supervision of the prefects.  It was brutal, as the salt filled half the glass and was mixed with water.  As the victims were compelled to pour the brine down through their throats and their stomachs filled up with the salty solution, it created a nauseous feeling and triggered bouts of vomiting all over the school.  However, before that you were required to recite the ‘fag pledge’, which started with the words:

“My name is ……….. I come from the bush village of .......... where people do ............ I am a fag, a dirty stinking fag, I am to be seen and not to be heard, as from this day I promise to discard all my rustic and outlandish behaviour and to become a true King's College boy.”

This was followed with a roar of ‘sure!!!’ from the audience and then the hapless boy continued:

“With your kind permission I beg to entertain you with.............”

Emmanuel Obe and I had decided to put on a joint act that evening, most of our classmates were determined that the tall and handsome Obe would not escape drinking brine and by allying with him I would simply be collateral damage.  Our act was simple and unsophisticated; I passed Obe on the stage, bumped into him and then he gave me a whack on the face!  I found myself flat on the floor writhing in pain but this elicited a huge roar of applause!  It meant we escaped the torment of taking brine and it seemed that our destinies had converged at least for the night.  By sheer coincidence, Obe and myself were to repeat exactly the same classes due to failures in examinations and we were drawn close together by mutual adversity.

‘Ewati! Ewati!’

I repeatedly taunted Umeh in the classroom as he sat down concentrating on writing the imposition he had been subjected to.  My call was one reserved for boys who were at the regular receiving end of the punishment of impositions and it meant ‘beans lover’.  All of a sudden, his face contorted with rage and he clinched his fists until his knuckles clicked and then without warning, from all directions, a flurry of blows landed on me in quick succession.  Umeh had decided he would use swiftness of his blows to silence me up once and for all.  I was stunned into cowardice and simply stood there receiving the punches in the rope-a-dope Muhammed Ali fashion but there was to be no miraculous come back!  ‘O Whiskey’ who was observing from the sidelines urged me to respond in kind but I retreated behind the excuse that as a ‘Christian’ I did not believe in revenge.  The truth was far from that, I was scared of the injuries Umeh might inflict on me if I decided to engage him in a duel, surrender was the best option, and something I duly choose.