A Father Like No Other

             CHAPTER FOUR

  My childhood experiences were mostly blissful. Dad and Mum were around to give us the best they could afford. My father treated us as every loving father would. Every Sunday after church service at the St. Pirans Anglican Church Enugu, We would stand beside our father and watch him greet and hug his friends. Most of them were Doctors and Professors in their various fields of endeavour. 

               I admired the way each of them comported and carried themselves with prestige and grace. Their hearty laughter and confidence really made it look like the world was really a bed of roses; devoid of problems.

  St. Pirans Anglican Church was  known throughout the city for the calibre of men and women who worshipped there. Most of the highly-placed inhabitants of the coal city worshipped there. The Academia, the Army Generals, the Business Moguls, Captains of Industries, Politicians and Entertainment Stars. It was more of a star-studded church in the entire city. 

                 This reflected on the magnificent and gigantic cathedral, with a big tarred space that contained series of the exotic cars of the worshippers. The driveway and walkway were beautifully marked out and decorated with ornamental flowers. It was an architectural masterpiece and the landscape alone was evangelistic  it could draw people to the church.  The pulpit and the altar were designed and arranged to taste, almost to the taste of the Anglican Church at Canterbury in England. The setting and the exquisite edifice told tales of the calibre of men and women worshiping at the church.

 Dad drove us to church every Sunday in his black Mercedes Benz Jeep. He used this car mostly for Sunday services and important occasions. He was a member of the Church Parochial Church Council, and they usually had brief meetings after every Sunday service before he would drive home.

              There was a newspaper vendor who always dropped a newspaper and a news magazine for him every Sunday at the Church, Mr. Ajayi; a dark stout man that always walked briskly, he seldom talked; I think he did that to conceal his inadequacy in his use of the English language which was and still the lingual Franca in Nigeria. There were over two hundred and fifty different native languages in Nigeria. 

            Mr. Ajayi was a man of a cheerful countenance and often used smiles to cover up most questions he should have answered. He never missed dropping the news materials for Dad. Even when he couldnt find any of us to deliver the materials to, he would keep the materials on Dads front windscreen, using a water proof material to wrap it up in case the rains decided to visit that very moment, then he used the wiper on the front windscreen to pin the papers down. 

            It was always safe there and that was his method of delivering his news materials to almost all the worshippers that patronized him. Mr. Ajayi seemed not bothered about collecting his money immediately as he knew that his customers were well-to-do and would always pay him as soon as they spotted him. How Mr. Ajayi used to know his numerous customers cars and the speed with which he delivered his materials even before the first worshipper left the church premises never ceased to amaze me.   

        Mum would always glance through the papers on our way home while Dad drove. Chimezie, Adaobi and I were usually kept busy with ice cream in the back seat. I loved the strawberry flavour; Adaobi preferred vanilla and Chimezie always went for the chocolate flavour.

        Dads chocolate colour, above average height and well-proportioned body, made him look younger than his age. He was always smartly dressed and always wore a smile of confidence. He was very kind to people. He never gave a deaf ear to anyone in need, never. I never witnessed any. He would always say that when it came to helping people, he was passionate. 

        He always offered to help even when it would be very inconvenient for him and the family. His philanthropic gestures made people think he was super rich and lived in affluence.

       Dad was a Library Scientist and he rose to the position of the Chief Medical Librarian in the teaching Hospital. He worked and taught in the University of Nigeria Teaching Hospital Enugu, the famous UNTH.                                                                                                                                                                                                        

On Sundays, after lunch and drinking copiously the chilled home-made soya milk drink Mummy had prepared, the family went on a habituated siesta for an hour or more. After that, we dressed up for an out-door recreation either to the Zoo, Eatery, Resorts, Museum or the famous Polo field.  Often we visited friends and family. Although some times Dad missed out of the fun due to duty-calls from meetings and associations and we were left to go with Mum alone.

  The Coal City was beautifully dotted with big rocks and hills. Little wonder it bears the name, Enugu; Hill top. The rocky hills and plateaux titivated the city; the arable green vegetation of the tropical rainforest made it the envy of the agriculturist and geographers. The pleasant weather of the city that left it cool and chilling day and night. It was a haven for tourist for its great landmarks like the popular Nnamdi Azikiwe Stadium, the Sports Club, the magnificent Hotels with world class facilities and the enchanting Nike Lake. The City was always a place to be.  The sights and the sounds alone would leave any tourist satisfied.

 Though Daddy was bent on giving us the best things of life, he never failed to inculcate good manners and virtues into us. One thing he would never take from us was telling lies. He abhored fighting and stealing. He would not hesitate to punish us if we attempted any of these vices. He took his time to point out the implication of any wrong action we took and showed us how rewarding it would be to behave in a godly manner.

  A liar finds it easy to perpetrate other vices; he easily steals, fights, kills and commits all other types of crimes simply because he thinks he can lie and deny committing them, he always chided us. 

        Fighting is the last step before killing; it is usually fighting that ushers in killing, and a murderer is usually sentenced to death, he would admonish us. He did not only teach us with whips and reproofs; his life was an example for us.

   Our morning family devotion was really a time for us to come together to hear words of wisdom and admonition from Dad and sometimes Mum. I did not appreciate those words back then as much as I do now. It was if Dad knew he wouldnt stay long with us. Dad told us how he struggled hard to succeed and got to the height he was even when situations and people didn't give him the chance to. 

    The world belongs to the determined because everything in life is at a price. The prize winners are the pain takers, simply because things dont just happen on their own, especially good things. Someone would have to take the pains to make them happen. Whatever you want in life, dont sit and wait for it; go and make it happen, he used to charge us.  

         I will not forget the illustration he gave us that morning with the television set in the sitting room.

 This television will not and can not come on by itself until someone takes the pain to press the 'On' button on the television or the remote control. It will remain in its 'Off' state for the next hundred years if no one puts it on, he said. "Though making things happen does not come easy but someone must make it happen, so make sure you are the one, he concluded. 

           The other day he said, Life is a battlefield; the world is very competitive: Stop breaking like an egg, stop avoiding challenges, they are the only gateway to success and fame. Easy things are common and cheap, they dont draw attention neither do they make news. Easy things dont count much but tough things draw attention and bring one to fame, wealth and stardom, he challenged us.

 Champions are big doers. They are people that have mastered the art of taking the bull by its horns, the tiger by its tail and the dog by its ears. They do things that are hard and scary; they do it until it becomes their lifestyle. That is the succeeding spirit, Dad told us confidently.