My father was Sampson Edgar, but my mum called him Sammy.
He was a handsome, yet short man. For a long time, he wore his hair like Bassey Okon, the famous character played by Jab Adu in the beautiful series Village Headmaster
He was of a lowly pedigree, barely went to school, but was extra brilliant and knew what a good education could do
He suffered to send us to the best schools and would say- My investment is my children’s education
From the Command Schools, which then were triple-A schools, to the Federal School of Arts and Sciences, to the University of Ibadan, where all five of us attended, he fought hard to give us what he considered the best
He was ambitious, but not for himself, but for his kids. He wanted them to achieve a lot and would always boast – my kids are at the Army Command School, and I have five graduates
I was his first son, and he was particularly harsh on me
I was a born rebel and remember how, at 2 years old, I defied advice and tried to take my tricycle down the stairs, coming crashing down.
If you look at my face very well, you will still see the scar beside my left eye
The more he tries to focus on me, the more I will rebel, and the more he will beat me
The beating basically killed our relationship as I saw it as hatred, and he saw it as compulsory for me to get sense
One of the beatings I got, which was almost 40 years later, I saw the sense and would have to apologise to him.
It was the one he gave me after telling him I wanted to be like Charlie Boy when I grew up
40years later, I have met Charlie boy, and after interacting with him, I began to see what my father saw all of those years that I could not see
Despite all my father’s efforts, I continued to fail.
I loved failing because it made him miserable, and he would come to my tiny room and say to me, ‘I don’t understand it. You are a brilliant boy who even went to secondary school at 9 years old, so why all the failure?’
I failed in Form 4 three times and was kicked out of Command Sec school in Lagos
I couldn’t care less. I had grown tired of the dirty school and the bullies it paraded as teachers and some students
I made lifelong friends, though, but I still can’t wait to leave the place.
Then my father took me to a mechanic and got me to start work there
I was a disappointment to him. His first son, who, despite being a brilliant boy, was now a mechanic
I really didn’t care if I was an Agbekpo; I didn’t want anything to do with my dad, with his stern, non-negotiable way of doing things
He wanted me to go to church 4 times a week, cut my hair weekly, go to school and become a medical doctor
Everything I didn’t care about. I just wanted to laze around and read.
I loved books and newspapers and would read from morning to night, and my mother would be so worried
Today, I have so much residual knowledge from all those years of reading that I basically write whole articles from my head without referencing.
I basically spent about five years of my life just reading
I will walk to Onipanu and stand at the vendors ‘ stands and read everything on the stand
Then he enrolled me at Angus Memorial High School, formerly known as Igbobi 2
It was a better environment than that Command with its tedious routine that was designed to turn you into a zombie
Here at Angus, the atmosphere was freer, and I could be whatever I wanted to be, as long as you could speak Yoruba, the primary mode of communication, you were good
Angus was an escape from my dad, who at this time lost his job
I would rush to school and would not want to come back home to his boring lectures on how I must be the first graduate from our village
He adored graduates, just as I adore PhD holders today.
He would say, ‘I want you to be like Mbre – He was the only graduate in our church at the time.
I knew I would be a graduate, but not a doctor, as he had wanted. I wanted to be an author, write books
My ambitions were too powerful for him to understand
Here was I, clearing F9 in Maths and apart from being able to spell Nelkon, the cover of the Physics book, I had no inclination for the sciences, but my dad was shouting all over Shomolu that I was going to be a doctor
Regretably, I wanted to be fucking Charlie Boy, and my other heroes were Fela, Ray Ekpu, Dele Giwa, Achebe and the like, and my father will reward me with a knock as I railed out my heroes
Then WAEC came, and he gave up. I was not reading or preparing for it.
Instead, I was going to school to hang out with my boys, Segun George, Oshi, Bayo and Ogar
I once heard my father whisper to my mum that they should give up on me since I now have a complete ‘Omo ita’.
Then I went for the exams without reading or preparing, and he would lament how I was giving my younger ones a bad example
I would remind him that they were all doing well. Ernest, Charles, Bernard and Gloria were clearing the exams and recording powerful leadership skills
Ernest was in the military cadet corps, Charles was doing so well, and the last two were straight A students, even Eteka with his big head
So I would tell my father to ignore me since he had four who were doing well
And he would say no. That the head of the fish cannot be rotten under his watch, and he would land me some slaps since he came back from selling bread to meet the four-figure table exactly where he had left it.
Then the results of the WAEC came out, and I told him I was going to check mine
He said ok, barely removing his eyes from the Bible he was reading
This one, who failed Form 4 three times and has not been reading, would pass WAEC? He must have said to himself
I knew what I had written and knew that I would pass
Three As in English, Literature and one other one and then another 3 Cs in other subjects and a P in one and the inevitable F9 in Maths, and I had crossed the fucking hurdle that was Waec without breaking a sweat.
I came home and showed him, and he stood up and hugged me
Goddddddd. That was the first and only time he hugged me in his life
I still remember that day. It was in our tiny parlour at Okuyiga Street in Shomolu, and he didn’t wear a shirt but had his famous John McEnroe tennis shorts on
He smelt warm and inviting, his big tummy pushing at my skinny ribs and his massive arms holding me tightly
I suddenly felt protected, but didn’t hold him back. I loved the feeling of my father hugging me, and although it was not for a few seconds, it was the most inspiring moment of my life
I saw pride in his eyes and a little welling of tears, but he didn’t cry as he kept saying thank you, thank you
It was that moment that I realised just how much he loved me as he took the paper downstairs to show it to the neighbours, to show them what his first son had done.
I kinda miss him, sha, although I didn’t become the doctor that he wanted, he was still very correct in one major thing – I was far better than Charlie Boy, ‘so why do you want to be like that twat – that was my father’s words, I swear
He was prophetic in his impression of Charly Boy but missed it in his warning me to be a doctor, but in all, he was my father, and he loved me and that’s all that matters.
Na wa
Duke of Shomolu