Happiness and Emptiness

Happiness and Emptiness

I am not really sure, but if I could still recollect, she was the daughter of the famous Nigerian journalist and writer, Nelson Ottah, the Editor of the defunct Drum magazine and the author of one of the first books on the Nigerian Civil War, "Rebels against Rebels". Priscilla or Patricia was one of the most beautiful students in Holy Child College, Lagos. She was attractive like her handsome father and also loved literature.

She was one of the 22 Holy Child girls who were going to be in my cast for the Lagos State Arts and Culture Festival in 1980, to represent the combined troupe of St. Gregory's College and Holy Child College.

Every boy from St. Gregory's College treated every girl from Holy Child College as a sister, because Holy Child College is the sister school of St. Gregory's College. And we interacted as brothers and sisters till we parted ways after leaving school. But something terrible happened in 1981 that has not left my consciousness.

I was going through a copy of the Daily Times newspaper when I saw the obituary of the Holy Child girl. It was the picture of Nelson Ottah's daughter! I was shocked. She had died after a brief illness. And I never knew until I saw it in the newspaper. I felt sad.
If only I visited her and was closer to her, I would have been able to save her life. Because, I believe that the kind of company we keep can be either negative or positive in our life. I cut out her picture and kept it and then did my pencil drawing of her to make sure that I never forgot her. And her memory prompted me to write this article.

I remember when another Holy Child girl died whilst we were still in school, my schoolmate, Kunle Esho went to her funeral and later told me how her face was ashen in rigor mortis. And Kunle said it was a pity that such a pretty girl was gone with her pretty face and sexy body without the opportunity of making love to her.

When my father died in 1983, I was alone with the Asian pathologist as he performed the autopsy and also embalmed the body. I did not even sob or cry. I was numb. Gazing at the same loving father who took the wife and children to the cinemas in lagos to watch Western and Indian movies. Who played his violin and later taught me Ifa divination and metaphysics. But now stone cold and lifeless.
What a life.

The sun did not stop shining
The moon did not stop glowing
The stars did not stop twinkling
The wind did not stop blowing
The rain did not stop falling
The river did not stop flowing
The plant did not stop growing
And the earth did not stop moving.

Life goes on.

Eno died in 1987 and I fainted.
I recovered and after her burial, I left Kiddies World magazine and left Lagos for Port Harcourt and Enugu to get away from the gloomy state of a Kiddies World magazine without the heart and soul of the party. The designer suits, Chauffeur driven Toyota Land Cruiser jeep and regular monthly salary became meaningless.

I returned to Lagos to be employed as a program consultant for the United Nations Children's Fund (UNICEF) and Eno's husband was now a member of the former military President, General Ibrahim Babangida's Constituent Assembly in Abuja. He lured me back to the Kiddies World magazine and took me to Abuja to meet with Jerry Gana. The government supported Kiddies World with MAMSER adverts and regular supplies to all the Unity Schools. We were happy. And later Eno's husband became the Director of Publicity for the Alhaji Bamanga Tukur's Presidential Campaign Office on Eletu Ogabi Street, Victoria Island, Lagos. I became his P.A., whilst Kenny Ogungbe was with his bother in-law, Dr. Raymond Dokpesi, the Director of Security. There was surplus money and happy hours at the government lodge of the Kaduna State Liaison Office on Victoria Island. But when I saw the hand writing on the wall, I resigned before the evil genius, former military President, General Ibrahim Babangida canceled the presidential primaries in 1992, when he saw that the late Gen. Yar'Adua of the Social Democratic Party (SDP) could win the Presidential election.

All the prospects of a brighter and greater future for Nigeria were making most us to glow in the hope of Chief M.K.O. Abiola becoming the new President of Nigeria in 1993. But suddenly on the early hours of May 26, 1993, after a stormy night, my beloved mother died in a ghastly road accident at the Ijora-Apapa Lagos flyover. The world came to an end at my feet that fateful day. And I thought my predicament was the worst, until I saw the corpse of a young girl placed on top of the corpse of her mother in the morgue. I stopped gazing at the corpse of my mother and asked how they died.
"The big Molue bus fell off the flyover and fell on their taxicab, crushing both the cab driver, the mother and her daughter to death. They were on their way to the Oke Arin market in Idumota, Lagos," my cousin said.

We were still mourning my beloved mother when on June 23, 1993, the Babangida government annulled the June 12 Presidential elections. And that was the beginning of the June 12 crisis and the beginning of sorrows for the Chief. M.K.O. Abiola family and millions of other Nigerians.

When I sit and enjoy some happy moments of the joys of life, I still reflect on the memories of Francis Ochalla, Sunday, Gbenga Adefolarin, Funso Alabi, and Dominique, the pretty French lady who was strangled by a steward in her apartment on Victoria Island. I cannot forget them, because I miss them.

The agonies of the ironies of life would have turned me into an existentialist, but my faith as a Christian is my strength to believe that the author and creator of the whole universe has the answer to the question of life. And I resign my fate in Him.

I am not dazed or fazed by the so called status symbols of this world, because, they are corruptible and perishable. And I live for only the incorruptible and imperishable things of life.

O tempora, o mores
Oh! the the times! Oh! the habits!

Sic transit gloria (mundi)
Thus passes away the glory of the world