LESSONS: CATCH ME IF YOU CAN

One gift nature clearly did not bestow on me is the clear memory of my childhood days. Despite that it was less than two decades ago, most of those activities are buried in the sand of oceans. Yet there are some events that are so etched to the rocky part of memory that I will forever take them with me and maybe to the grave. Two of such are highlighted below. I remember it happened in the evening. I was barely awake as I made my way to the toilet to answer the call of nature. I had barely held the door knob of the toilet when our neighbor emerged from the back of the building; in his hand was a sharp glittering cutlass. I was not seeing Uncle Bosun for the first time neither the cutlass in his hand too. But the way he held it and the murderous look in his eye made him look a different being. Bro Bosun used to be every neighborhood child’s playmate. He was simple, gentle, caring and could take many insults from us children with a smile, but which will generally attract a knock or even a whip from other elders. I was shaking as he passed beside me and went outside. I was too scared to make a move. It took me some minutes before I could regain my composure and it was even a loud yell from outside that woke me up. I ran out more out of fear than eagerness. On the floor covered in blood was the street’s most popular dog; bingo. Bingo’s owner who happened to be a popular hotelier seemed to have gifted him to the whole street. Bingo was popular not only with the adults because it helped in keeping the street safe from thieves but also with we children. Despite its intimidating look and size, it was as friendly as any good friend could be. Everyone loves Bingo! Watching this animal lying in its pool of blood with a man that I have always admired and looked up to as my hero was more than I could take, I busted into tears and ran inside. And sadly I was so angry that I never did talk to Uncle Bosun till he died in a fire accident that burnt just his own room less than a year later. It was not until I was in my second year in the secondary school that I fully understand why Uncle Bosun did what he did that evening and fully agreed with him. A week before the incident Bingo started showing some symptoms which I suspect to be of rabies. He stopped being friendly, started chasing both friend and foes alike. Its aggressiveness later went beyond bond. My grandma’s insistence of always keeping me inside anytime I came back from school did not allow me to know about this. The afternoon of that particular day, Bingo had bitten Uncle Bosun’s only daughter from his dead wife. Actually to say bingo bit the girl is an understatement it was a merciless mauling. It was this that made Uncle Bosun to sentence the crazy canine to death. Whether Uncle Bosun was right or not is a debate for another day. Whether the federal government is right or wrong with the way it is currently handling the modern day Bingo…? well posterity will surely judge. Another incident which I clearly remember occurred during my secondary school days. I remember I was in Jss1 then. A senior class in the school (SSS2 I guessed) decided to take their notoriety to a new level by beating two newly employed teachers. They had tricked the teachers to a bushy part. It was after closing hour when most of the teachers and administrative staffs had gone home. We all watched in awe and fear as they made the teachers to lie down and trash them. The teachers are been taught… We all know there will be backlash the following day, our principal who we fondly refer to as Uncle Shege was not going to take matters lying low. As friendly as he was, the story of his ruthlessness was known to we that our elder sibs passed through him when he was still a vice principal at a neighboring school. To our amazement and to the surprise of many of the class SSS2 especially those that did not participate in the crime, nothing happened the following day. It was not even mentioned on the assembly. Not on the second day and even the third day. Our childish brain had almost forgotten the act but uncle Shege didn’t. It was the first day of the following week; the assembly was almost coming to an end, infact almost all the notorious latecomers are already on the queue that day because the assembly was a little bit longer that morning. A police van drove into the school compound and it had barely stopped when about ten policemen jumped down. Their mission was announced by a big sack which they carried out of their van. It was filled with a notorious cane we nicknamed “pankere”. That day, it was not only people that participated in the dastardly act that suffered the special treatment (though their own was extra special) even we that were unfortunate to watch the act could not sit down properly with our buttock for the rest of the week due to the effect of the caning we had. Till I passed out of the school, I can’t remember seeing a student argue with a teacher let alone raised his hand .If such even occur am sure I won’t wait to watch. God bless uncle Shege wherever he is today. Sometimes I wish he was around to offer our president some tips about dealing with rogue citizens, his way might be ruthless but believe me it works. Can we catch some lessons above? Can we afford to continue the ‘sidon dey look’ approach as the Boko gangs and friends continue to kill in hundreds? The Yoruba have a saying, it is roughly translated thus; when danger enters and takes the son of a poor man the people say trash is leaving the town, a day is coming when it will target the king’s son. Are we waiting till the day these people will probably kill a state governor or even attack the president? God forbid, the time to take on the boko gangs and friends is now! (All except the last paragraph are adapted from my yet to be published book: GROWING THROUGH THE YEARS)

Teaching is fun at Candy Math

It used to be #20! Yes twenty naira for an hour. And that timing was not even strict; at times it could stretch to two and even three. That was back then in 2003. I was fresh from the secondary school and #20 then though not that much, but when you make it in ten places and especially in the hand of a boy who was making money for the first time, it was a lot. It was enough to get me my first chicken pie and ice cream from Mr. Biggs’. I am sure that was the first time I entered Mr. Biggs. I can’t remember how it really started neither can I remember my first student but I can still remember parents sending their wards to me during my secondary school days to teach them one topic or the other in mathematics or to help them with their assignment. My fame increased the more during my first post secondary school education. For a reason, I didn’t stay in the hostel and this gave me time to spend with my students; most evenings and especially during the weekend. For a reason I don’t know, many people in the neighborhood assigned me the tag of “Mathematics tutor expert’. My students then made a lot of contribution to this, they spread rumor of a perfect mathematician everywhere they found themselves. But far from it I was neither a ‘mathematics expert” nor an expert in teaching, I was not even a trained teacher! So what did they all see in me? One thing I can’t deny is my passion for teaching. I have it in abundance. I could teach for hours and I so much love it. Another thing that I think helped me and is still helping me till today is my love of writing. By the time I was in my first year at Senior Secondary school, I was already writing a story that takes an entire sixty leaves exercise book. And by the time I was in my final year in 2003, I was known all over the school for my writing Prowess. Any student of School of Science, Ondo road, Ile-Ife, Osun State around 2001 to 2003 can testify to it. They might not know me by name but just tell them that guy that used to write… Sorry if I sounded ‘prouding’ back to the matter at hand. You wonder how my love of writing made me a better teacher? In writing, novels especially, we seek to narrate events in the most interesting way possible, and that is what I brought into teaching mathematics. Though initially, my knowledge of content matter was low, once I read it, I have a way of conveying it in the simplest manner possible. One of my most memorable events in teaching came three years ago when I was still based in Ile-Ife. A woman called to tell me she would love me to coach her child for the upcoming Examination. Her daughter made all her papers except English language in the immediate past WAEC. All my explanation that while my education as a computer scientist afford me the opportunity of being versed at Mathematics, the same cannot be said of English Language did not impress her. She claimed she got my number from some students who were discussing me in a commercial vehicle on her way to Ilesha. (Ilesha is a neighboring town to Ife) The students really poured so much encomium on me that she actually thought I was a university don. Though she offered to pay me what I considered obscene money then I did not take the offer. I instead got one of my colleagues at a school where I was working then to help her. The rest is history; the girl passed her English paper with distinction. And I was able to make up to her when she was preparing for her UTME. Fast forward to 2014, the least I charge for an hour is #1300. The economic condition in the society is bad and many parents can barely afford to provide the basic needs of their ward let alone pay for extra home tuition so that minimum fee comes into play. After all said and done I have two students that are on scholarship. God has been good and nothing stops me from helping others. I no longer have to combine the lesson with a daily job again; this has given me more time to pursue other things like my writing which has taken a back bench due to inadequacy of time. I work less than three hours a day and I earn more than triple what I earn before working eight hours a day. In addition, I have an opportunity of helping others get extra money in their free period. And on top of it, I contribute my own quota to the raising of mathematics geniuses of our time and a generation of students who sees mathematics as fun rather than something frightening or boring. Our aim as always at Candy mathematics remains presenting mathematics to students in the simplest possible way. We are devoted, passionate and ready to help your ward anywhere in Lagos and it’s environ. We are not there yet but we continue to strive, till we have presence all over the country … (All except the last two paragraph are adapted from my yet to be published book; GROWING THROUGH THE YEARS)

IN THE SEASON OF KILLING

The race is on for the title of the deadliest killer in the north. All the news that comes out from the region now days is almost about one group or another going on killing spree. And do I need to add they no longer kill with fear? They kill in tens and some even have the confidence to take it higher than that and go in the region of hundreds. From Fulani cattle or is it cattle Fulani to Boko Gangs and friends the killing machine is well oiled and getting stronger. No one is safe, not even the governor, I dare say not even the president. (I trust my president; he won’t even dare venture there. Ever heard the proverb; let the dead bury their dead?) They kill at the rate they want and when they are tired, they withdraw not because of security men chasing them but because they want to have others to kill come another day. Even my eight year old pupil is afraid; she has been begging her father to take her back to USA. She is afraid that when the killers in the north don’t have anyone to kill again, they will turn in the direction of the south. Will the madness stop soon or are we set to witness a record breaking murder spree? Sincerely I have almost lost all trust in government. Ask the people at the scene of those killing spree they will tell you of their doubt whether government is not really a relic of the past. Gone are the days when government’s words are matched with action, when the commander in chief read riot acts and criminals catch cold, welcome to the days when criminals read their own riot act, act like the de-facto commander in chief. A season in which Boko haram now levies tax and in which the life of a cow equates to ten human lives. Welcome to the era of killing. Now that the Cattle Fulani have decided to beat Boko gangs and friends in their game, I hope we pause for a minute each time we are ‘unfortunate’ to eat beef and save a thought for those people on whose blood the cattle trod to maturity. Yet I know something clearly, he who kill by sword (gun and bomb inclusive) will surely die by one. And am also sure there is always a bound to every patience, even a goat will turn back at its pursuer when pushed to the wall, someday (when I don’t really know but am sure if this trend continues) the killed will turn back and woe betide those at the back of the muzzle, not even all the bullets in the world will stop them. And to those who are in the business of arming the killing machine, continue, there is always a reward for every action. But seriously will the government recover from its state of impotency and make a group… just a group an example? Deal with a group so much that even if others don’t change they will at least have a respect for something called government? Be less calm in their murderous campaign? We are waiting.