THE SUPRISE BEHIND WHY I WRITE Whenever l conviniently esconce myself to feed myself with any of my own write up, the kind of radiance of self acceptance l stand to savour push the nudge in me to look over my shoulder and look at my beginning which if l agree was partially humble but harrowing in cumulative experiences. A product from the womb of iya alagunmu, with my primary education not embroiled in affluence of school bus and balance diet daily food schedule or the coercieve urge to pick up and read my book either under the light of diurnal or nocturnal influences. With no unique either of palatial or semi modern building but rather just a single room apartment folding myself under the wrap of my mothers protective custody, not having that beneficial advantage to feed on well deep thick, not even the watery one, admixure of nutritious tea but warmth left over pouded yam of the previous night. Picking up my slate to embark on the academic intricacies of the day after the unchanging regularly repeated BBE( boju bo ese), added ecstatic mood of academic preparedness was when l would needed to jack my thick brown khaki knicker up and do the regular shoulder-hanging to my shoulder wt already made rope designed to forestall sudden down pull not even respecting the cognizance that the two faces of my buttock are peeping to behold those walking up my back, placing the green shirt to rest on it l was off to CAC primary school Usi. No penny in the pocket to eat but on seldom demand by sympathy would l have 10k tossed into my pocket with the parliatory language of inducement to dwell on whatever it can buy and what it can buy that would be supplemented by as usual (groundnut cake) kulikuli and garri. The inchoative level of secondary education on inclusion on the surface history got a little rebranding but wt the second half of the six year statutory demand placed on one leg in, class, second leg labouring farm(oko lebira). Coming back home to do assignment under the nacked unprotected light from sugudu or opa, sleeping only to combine the delectation of dreamland with the ector warring tenacity to kill bed bug(idun) at every first bite the repetition of which is no wishful interest. The boarding school system was grossly illusive even when the penchant to taste the aroma of school residing system was so closed to be practice at Unity Secondary School and impossibility that made me penetrate my academic claw to the chest of mother Notre Dame College Usi. The incontrovertible academic standard of the western world was a matter of daydreaming neither the entrance to the gate of any colourful but respect private universities was placed above my reach only to be cruising, carousing, engaging in friendly banter cum badinage in the mist of my friends, limited friendship but of penchant projection tied to success in reminiscence attached to our own humble beginning of virtually equal parallelism in the company of close cronies of Sola Ayegbusi, Aduralere Gbohunmi, Dada Bamidele, Kolins, Omolayo Dada John etc in my own state university. However somebody of rock bottom with no hallmark of affluence plus financial prerequisite to ginger epistemological prodigy can still write, can still inscribe on the slate of understanding that represents the watershield for those on the voyage of scholarly self discovery. Can still put into writing what can be rejected without flavour, can still write what lies between the thought provoking line of acceptance and rejection. In the middle of joblessness what gives the stolid resilience of hopeful future flows from glittering overjoy in reading my own write up. And this knot the rope of connection that now is not the time to tell the full story of the odyssey of how l have overcome. Glory to almighty God!
Posted on: Mon, 27 Oct 2014 20:18:29 +0000