Growing Up Via a serendipitous happenstance, I was reunited with one of my old teachers when I was in the secondary school. Our happy reunion brought me memorable nostalgia. May Allah bless you Mr JUBRIL NDATSE, my old Biology teacher and mentor. Jubril it was who practically took away my stage fright by insisting I acted several parts in the adaptation of The Incorruptible Judge; I would later go on to hone my skills in cramming long passages which would help me in later years. I remember the morning assembly, the healthy inter-school rivalry before the coming of school cultism, the boys and girls thingz, the principal whom we call Aba Asunmotiku (the one who sleeps with his doors ajar), our seniors, the drama club... Ah, gone were those good old days! And I remember particularly Mr Omoseebi. Mr Omoseebi taught us Health Education in forms 3 to 5. In my youthful ignorance, I couldnt differentiate between HS and Biology; and I asked Mr Omoseebi one day. He could not differentiate too but I got a knock on my head for asking such a silly question. Mr Omoseebi was a tough and finicky colonial teacher. Though a Yoruba, yet he preferred dressing mallam style. His wardrobe was modest, I guessed, as he usually wore some brownish funny looking long caftan decorated with some equally funny embroidery and, wait for it, collar. And he knew how to handle the cane very well. When it was time to choose subjects in form 4 in preparation for the final year, I was too glad to quickly drop Omoseebis Health Science for Biology partly because of the kind-hearted and gentle Mr Jubril then an NYSC teacher. Omoseebi was not happy for losing one of his best pupils to Biology. Tunde Oke, Toyin Olagbemi, Kunle Awoyemi, Ayo Akinyele, Opeyemi Agbeyo, Felix Taiwo, all brilliant ambitious pupils also ported. (Sadly we lost Felix before everything could be finalized). But Omoseebi was not a teacher you could humiliate and walk away free; he asked for and got his pound of flesh. Oh yes, he was a pretend footballer too. Though I was not good at football or any other contact sports but I was a good spectator. Moreso, the drama, quiz or debate or essay writing practices also took place in the after school hours. And did we the rebels get enough dosage of corporal punishment from Mr Omoseebi? We got more than enough. One day he walked one of us to a dried-up old tree, and in his characteristic manner denanded: I dont want to see this tree standing here by 10th tomorrow. Well, the rebel did the needful. She burnt the tree to ashes! Apparently, ova wanted the tree uprooted and the faggots neatly arranged for one of his women friends who ran a bukateria downtown. My own punishment for the treasonable felony included but was not limited to weeding and hoeing, and complex academic exercises enough to burst my brains. He would require me to cram and pour out verbatim pages of Stone and Cozens Modern Biology failure to do so fetching me square feet of thick lawn to clear. Wàidì Abayomi, Kó bá tií bò láarò òla oķó e lówó òtún àdá lówó osi ni o. Kó bá ti mu ha, o para e. (Abayomi Waheed, when coming tomorrow bring your hoe in your right hand and your cutlass in your left. You disobey me and you are dead). Ogallala would tell me when I missed a word while being interrogated on Biology my favorite and best subject. With the benefit of hindsight, I think Mr Omoseebi meant very well for me. He was one of the architects of my career. May God bless him wherever he is. I have tried to locate him without success. And thanks sir, Mr Jubril Ndatse, for teaching me Biology, Drama and religion.
Posted on: Sun, 06 Jul 2014 21:56:11 +0000
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