My First Lecture…

In my short period of existence, I had pleaded before judges, campaigned in the presence of people numbering in their thousands, faced the world on the airwaves through BBC, preached in countless of Churches and found myself influencing motley of audiences.  The experience and knowledge of all these encounters boosted my pride, inflated my ego and sated me in unspeakable arrogance.  But nothing within all that range prepared me to face a class of students at Lead City University, Ibadan on that fateful day.

In my lecture taken under the auspices of the Faculty of Management and Social Sciences I was wracked with anxiety.  I needed a crouch to deliver me from my inadequacies. Thoughts flew across my mind in a flash. How would I disseminate my knowledge of Business Law, its intricacies, its nuances and its overall objectives.  Will the students appreciate me, will they grasp the purport of my words or would I become a quavering of a man who simply cannot hack it?

This was how I approached the lecture theatre populated with rows and rows of students, presenting a riot of colours, in all shapes and sizes with a nod and wink to the corporate dress sense. I flashed my brand new slim Apple mac-computer for functionality, it contained all my notes.  Without much more of a glance in their direction, I ushered myself to the wooden Lead City University branded rostrum neatly placed in the front of the theatre.  

In what seemed like a long silence, descended upon the lecture theatre, and the tension became palpable. I could have sworn my imagination conveyed from outside, the howling of winds, flapping sounds of the wings of bats flying back from their insect hunting, interrupting me, as my maiden lecture was about to commence.

My Taste Buds…..

I glanced at my silver plaited Gucci watch, a gift from my mother to mark my 40^th birthday and realised the time was far spent and hunger had set in. I arose from my office to begin a slow languid walk towards the restaurants scattered at the heights of Lead City University.  My office was on the ground floor and numbered as the first in the row.  It was a large space, with my wooden table edged towards the left and high bay windows atop.  At its side was a spilt air conditioning unit and in front and array of chairs to cater for the endless streams of visiting students.  

It had been a long hard day, with the searing heat of the sun refusing to abate in its intensity and the students relentless in their visits.  I needed a respite, the kind offered by food. Suddenly I developed a hankering for some fried rice prettied with carrots, laced with onions, embroidered with chunks of chicken and garnished with prawns.  As a suitable accompaniment I dreamt of a iced cold drink in the manner of a Chapman to refresh and cleanse my palette enabling the food to slither down my throat and into oblivion. 

I blame my mother who had attained the heights of culinary feats by being the first person to introduce the delights of fried rice into the Nigerian social scene in 1971. Hers was always crisp, and cooked, simmering to perfection and the ingredients readily recognisable and of cause rich in a variety of nutrients.  But with a budget of under N500 where and which caterer could rise to the height of my desires?  The few restaurants littered around were designed to cater for students and for those on a budget, they were not given to the luxury of the Michelin star quality.  It is with these thoughts I had to make do and navigate my discerning taste buds.