Am I not supposed to be reading for exams? Do I have to bother you to read when you haven't finished reading your books? But when I remembered the takes of a hummingbird which after it had tested its wings left its mother in the hollow of an Obeche tree and flew away to the seashore; I deemed it fit that farewell song must be sang to NIJ lecturers.
Who belled the cat? A non-teaching staff. Mr. Obed., who most times speak like Aristotle, and anytime I see him, I must confess; I remember Uchendu, Okonkwo's uncle in 'things fall apart'. I have little contact with him but no doubt he is wise and friendly.
Mrs. Umoren who when teaching I tried as much as possible not to gaze too much into her flicking, killing eyes—most especially when fasting. They roll in accord to define uncommon beauty.
I am somewhat indebted to Mr. Boye who added some gimmicks and paraphernalia to my writing, and his wife, my unseen editor. He would answer your question with question, with suitable anecdote that will explain the question and make you see how stupid you were some seconds ago—before the question. It took us some time to know that beneath his smile lies an ocean of seriousness.
I confidently foretold him the certainty of my 'A' in his course 'Features Writing', and assurance was vivid when almost everybody scored 8,9,10 over 20. The highest score was 13 and I,18 with a customised mark of a green biro that acknowledged the beauty of my lead. I accused him when result came and it wasn't an A. "It is not about the grade, but the fact is that you've known it" he said, and that slaked my anger.
"I did not teach you how to write, I told you how to" he said last week when I jokingly told people to see the man who thought me how to write. He has his policy, which students that take education with levity detest but as for me Mr. Boye is one of the best. He is like a walker that aided my toddling.
Mrs. Kalesanwo is known for her rapport with students, she is an embodiment of trust whom students are not afraid to divulge secrets to. She competes effortlessly with ladies in the campus. Her
makeup, her gown, shoes and jewelries would want you to consider Mrs NiJ, probably in the next students'week.
Mr Femi is another exceptional breed. He teaches with zeal, to the point of perspiration even under fan. Maybe if the new provost could see him in the act, he would hasten the AC Project. He consciously injects the right words that best fit a sentence. Lacuna, dichotomy, or miniature, cum, nuances, are all his words. I enjoy him more when he digresses, discusses theories, recalls history but above all when analysing profundities without necessarily mentioning Karl Marx or Marshal McLuhan.
Mr Tene, my 'paddy', who mingles freely with students without any shame is another personality I will never forget in NIJ. At times, when people talk about his strictness or call him a 'Madman'(according to him) I thought I was the only one with a contrary opinion until people's noise filled the hall when his name was mentioned among others in the last 'Provost-student' meeting. That day, I concluded he is indeed a man of the people. Although his mood switches. He believes in the respect-is-reciprocal theory and he is not ashamed even to bow when greeting a student.
Mrs. or Miss Tope, Clinic madam is another person I had never talked to. She define beauty in a different and simple manner. When you see her, you may want to pray for little malaria, and be rushed to her care, probably she would run her hand on your forehead during medical observation. She is an epitome of elegance in her impeccable slenderness. She has her way of walking. If human legs are three, I would have called her a Tripod because she is fit and firm while walking.
Mr. Akin Ojo, who never came near pitch to play football, even though he looks young, would prefer to pocket and maintain his fine-boyishness. He walks majestically like a politician and his shade makes him sometimes, looks like a contractor that abandoned a project.
Unlike Jayjay, who I have no doubt that if he had pursued football as career, he would have benched Oruma and Okocha. But destiny dragged him from field to classroom—however He made the right choice, for bones weaken but pen would never retire. None of the students would forget how he release his heavy voice to break the prevalence of silence in exam hall as he comes for series of announcements and warnings."If you write down stories for me in my exam, your children and grandchildren will read it" he would warn his class.
Mr. Tolu whose names are almost uncountable, courtesy of students -— G.O, Obama, United, Baba Tee and so on. When Tolu is in class, strangers may think there is course called 'Comedy 101' as classroom may change to 'A night of thousand laughs' —like the day he was angry with us in ND1 and silently walked in, with a frowned face in his Man U jersey—a red long sleeve. No greeting. He walked toward the board and wrote Test, even though our notebooks were empty.
The most amusing was the question that read thus "Succinctly adduce the..." Confusion filled the class, as all pens hung. Valentine summoned courage and asked "sir, is it to define or what?" The whole class lifted their heads for response, he halted, looked funnily at the guy and walked out without saying anything. We began to laugh boisterously. He feigns bully but he is sarcastic in nature and when the former would not work, he wears a clown face.
I call Mrs Odum my beautiful mum, and she responds 'my handsome son'. I envy her glowing skin, her decent dress and her height. Personally, I appreciated tall people because they don't feel intimidated which could result to aggression and encroachment, for fear that people may take their nature to debase them—especially those who lack confidence in themselves at the same time lack good habit.
She would not allow you to pay her bill; any where if you're still a student and she explained reasons for that. Mr Boye and her share this philosophy, because I could remember an incident whereby the former refused to load a student's call-voucher, he sent the guy a message that he did appreciate card, but that was his stand—thanks that the guy did not throw away the call card, he loaded it after a week. What a discipline!
Mrs Abiodun is another lecturer who which if I refuse to write about, my conscience won't forgive me for being either timid or biased. Anytime you're operating computer, especially on Microsoft Power Point you think of her. She cares not about what people say though, In fact, she does not bother herself to calm the class when she knows that result would soon be out and letter 'O' is not hard to type.
She is a woman with tough gloves whom every newcomer dreads. Most ND 1 students you see checking their results and suddenly, bright countenances change to somber looks and drawing jaws, then followed with mumblings of words—either casting spells or chewing incantations, are likely to have entered her claws. Those who are wise nearly prostrate when they meet her in the staircase.
Mrs Popoola, I guess must have lived in Peckham, where three things anger whiteman, don't beat their dog, don't beat their child and don't harm their flowers. The last she dislikes with passion as she would rather prefer you to break her car mirror than walk carelessly on the lawn.
Time will not permit me to write about Mr Jack who stretches a hand for handshake to avoid lady's embrace for the fear of anointing contamination and his 'He-goat' philosophy toward illicit advances among opposite sexes in a suspicious angle. And Mr Cami, the humble, gentle and meticulous teacher with many other teaching and non teaching staff, for no doubt they have all played a role in building lives. I wish you all, success not only in the on-going examination but also in your future itinerary.
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