Tony was in the final year in the
primary school. About 4 feet 8 inches (1.56 meters) tall and slimly built, he was perhaps the smallest boy in his class. A
jovial little lad, Tony, who was twelve years old in 1963, always carried a
smile on his face as if to say there was no problem in the world. He could have
sporadic, annoying moments that sometimes drove him crazy, but he was generally
very playful. His primary school was a St. Mary’s Catholic
School in Lokoja
in one of the northern Nigeria
provinces. The school had two sections, the junior (classes 1 – 4) and the
senior (classes 5 – 7). Dividing the two sections was a large football (soccer)
field. The old church was on the eastern part of the field while the much
larger and newer church as well as the compound of the diocesan priests was on
the western part of the field and close to the senior section of the school.
Final year in the primary school was the time when pupils took entrance
examinations to secure a place in one of the secondary schools. So, with fees
paid Tony took as many entrance examinations as were available that year. The
most important one was the national common entrance to about 20 prestigious
secondary schools in the country at that time. Success in taking the entrance
exam simply qualified the pupil for an interview and not admission. So when a
letter of invitation to attend one of those interviews at Government
College, Ughelli
(GCU) was received in June of that year, Tony and his parents though happy,
were not overly excited knowing that a tough interview awaited him.
Following what was regarded as
the most reliable and safest transport on the road in 1963, the Armels Transport, Tony traveled in the popular second-class
section, on his way to attend an interview at GCU.
* * *
If you have forgotten our own
system so soon, let me remind you how it works. You have to be somebody to get
anything done. You must always appear like a very important person (VIP). At
the bank you must have at least two friends and be generally nice to everybody.
In the post office, you should know two to three familiar faces. At the
government ministries and departments start befriending the messengers and
clerks. You must always look important. In this system, you can own chains of
houses, uncounted number of cars, dispense naira without due regard for
anybody, and make fantastic donations in the name of helping charitable
organizations. Because nobody questions how you got this money, you will be
hailed for being one of the very good men in the society. If you don’t already
have godfathers, mothers, sisters or college sons or daughters you must try to
renew old contacts. You must attempt to be in a hurry to get rich quickly.
Decency in your actions is ruinous and must be avoided at all costs. Above all,
your legs must be very long (many friends in position of influence). Finally,
the most important advice is that you must join the system. If you don’t then
all your academic degrees will only give you intellectual superiority over
nothing. The saying today is that ‘if you can not beat them, then join them.’
Professors in this country now sell cement and mold blocks, rather than conduct
research and be satisfied with scientific publications; they make noise in the
media to attract the attention of those in the corridors of power. Before you
know it, the professor has become the director or chairman of a parastatal (government established companies). That, of
course is another way, of joining the system.”