Journey Through The Year: Making The Best Of The Internet and The Social Media.

A Purposeful and Fruitful One-Year Journey: We Came, We Saw, We Conquered. And It's Time to Move on!

Writing and publishing an average of Three Thousands of words of policy statements, and in some cases, of factual and historic events every two days, without the support of a Proof Reader, or an Editorial Assistant is a herculean task to execute. In retrospect, it was an enormous challenge - a daunting challenge that, one acting alone, cannot possibly overcome with ease, no matter how painstaking the process.

Therefore, typographical errors are bound to happen. That was a major inhibiting factor that I had to contend with and strive to surmount for the entire period that I was involved in developing this Blog. So, we ask for your understanding and forgiveness. Be that as it may, that awareness and the accompanying fear or uneasiness should not deter any budding writer or someone in my shoe focused on public policy initiatives from putting his or her thoughts on paper.

Worse still, was time. It was definitely not a helper, especially when sharing it between my real sources of income vis-a-vis writing and blogging, which are perhaps, patently unrewarding in financial terms. In this instant, the guy most affected happens to be my adorable child-man. It came to a point he just gave up on his much-cherished evening ritual: watching WWE, Jeopardy, and Wheel of Fortune with Daddy.

He was mostly all by himself. Though Daddy was home, Daddy was never present. My Boy would come over to the study to peek and ask a few questions. As always, I would plead with him, without even taking my sight off the computer screen to please give Daddy "just a minute." He would always politely respond by saying: Daddy, never mind, and then stepped away to conference with his Mom. I'm glad it's all over now. He was so excited when I told him this morning at breakfast that I won't be writing again as before, except for an extremely important development.

In spite of everything, it was worth doing. Generating original ideas with a view to improving leadership effectiveness and at the same time, raising the conscience of a nation - for me - has and will always be endearing and enduring. It is innate and a function of upbringing influenced substantially by immediate surroundings, aspirations, rigorous learning, and experiences through the years. Indeed, it is about leadership transformation, because leadership defines the lifestyle and attitude of a given people towards graft, corruption, and fraudulent behavior. Nigeria, my beloved, but the troubled country is a good example where leadership crises and deficits of ideas wrecked a supposedly powerful nation ordained by God. 

When we started, there was in us that intense passion to make a change in the governing process, with a view to invigorating new leadership consciousness and transformation within the power elite in Nigeria - my country of birth. In addition, we made a conscious effort to alter the tone of the national debate and tilt it towards political progressivism. Most importantly, we believe that communication is only effective if it achieves the intended goal. That awareness defines the scope of our content: Simplicity in style,  choice of words, and construction of sentences. 

In addition, we treasure the fact that our work is not derivative of the works or ideas of others, or of any philosopher, Scholar, School of thought, or political leader. It is essentially intuitive based - guided by common sense, our value system, and adherence to the principles of equal rights and justice.

Over the years, I have come to realize that ideas simply put, are intuitive objects of thought - a disappearing act, always in motion, unless of course, implemented or put into use immediately. In the absence of that, reducing it to a permanent format via writing for available use in the future by others remains the last and only option. To a considerable degree, we have succeeded in doing the latter for the past twelve months. And that is the most we could do from the outside. 

In a nutshell, this is not journalism; it is simply a fundamental framework for leadership transformation, as well as the global effectiveness of organizations. It is more or less a compendium that will - besides being unique and electronic - stand the test of time as a history of public affairs, leadership transformation, and communication strategy. 

So far, I have written what I firmly - in my respectful and humble opinion - believe the world ought and should know about sustainable development of natural and human resources, corporate responsibility, leadership, as well as managing the crisis in the Middle East.

Above all, with specific reference to Nigeria, we covered extensively, the most troubling, divisive, and contentious issues of our time: True Federalism and Decentralization; the ills of Feudalism and the under-education of Northern Nigerian Children; Game Change and the need for Alignment by the progressives; the Immunity Clause of the 1999 Constitution (Section 308); Sovereign National Conference, Constitutional amendment and Federal Character.

In light of the lingering riotous situation in the Niger Delta of Nigeria and elsewhere in mineral-rich areas of the world, we cannot conclude this parting chapter, without a word of advice to International Oil Companies engaged in oil exploration and exploitation in developing countries. In recent times, the demand for integration of sustainable development initiatives within every agreement negotiated by IOCs and Host Nations is receiving deserving attention in the legal community. No doubt, exploitation of crude oil, whether in Nigeria or Ecuador, or Brazil, comes with environmental hazards, dislocation, and economic hardship to the host communities resulting from water pollution and desecration of arable land. 

Therefore, International Oil Companies must learn to balance the interests and expectations of local communities against their own investment interests to ensure a tranquil investment climate in the host nation. The same investment philosophy must be encouraged in Nigeria in order to ensure an uninterrupted revenue stream for the stakeholders.  

On the political front, we coined "moving forward" and popularized the usage of "common sense". As used presently in public forums is derivative of the style and realistic approach of this very Blog to complicated issues. We did more. We authored "OBAMA: Citizen United, Invisible Resistance, and the Hacking of American Democracy", published on June 8, 2012. In it, we pushed for the adoption of talking points and campaign slogans that celebrated and highly paid pundits and influential political leaders within and outside of the democratic party considered "no go areas" - an aberration, to say the least.

Our decision was strategic; influenced substantially by anger and the need to set the record straight  We thought then that a no holds barred rebuttal to the "memos" and the "don't say this and don't say that" viewpoints flying all over the airwaves is needed urgently; otherwise, these influential Democrats and partisan TV Anchors would derail and bury the Obama Presidential campaign alive in no time. And we went to work. 

In the end, reason and common sense prevailed. Our position was adopted at a campaign rally by the President and his campaign team the very day the article was published on this Blog and on our Facebook Wall. It generates instant buzz and gained momentous consensus within and outside of the mainstream media, heralding what has become known as the definition of a major character in the campaign. Pundits and consultants came on board in droves, repeating every line and every syllable of the piece until election day. It was magical and catchy. And it all began here. 

It was so effective and invigorating to boot that on several occasions, Chris Matthews of MSNBC, in his show "The Chris Matthews Show", would ask his guests: did XYZ make mistake for demanding that the Obama campaign team should not say anything about Bain Capital and Wall Street?  They did, and they accepted. 

(Please don’t blame me for devoting five paragraphs to the campaign story. We consider it a major achievement; we never for once anticipated that it would come to that level when we started - that the Blog would be making substantial impacts in the U.S. Presidential election within the first six months of its existence in the public domain. This Blog was hacked and corrupted several times. But we persevered. It was fun, and above all, intellectually and strategically challenging).

As we grow, the volume of traffic to our site was never our concern, but knowing the caliber of our visitors - who they are, what they do, as well as the power and influence they wield in the larger society. They were our best PR machine - spreading the ideas to a much larger audience in different ways - by writing about them or simply putting them into practice.

Conscious of that fact, we rose to the occasion and sustained the temple and the expectations. And like Caesar's Wife, we stayed above board, confident that it doesn't take name recognition to make an impact. It is about content. We came, we saw, we conquered, and we built a lasting legacy.   

At this juncture, I would like to digress a little on a different chapter in my American journey, reserved of course for another day: Institutions or individuals, no matter how great, powerful, or influential in a political system, should not engage in lies, falsehood or deceitful acts to gain the confidence of their helpless victims. Nor should they engage in vindictive and unrestrained vengeance over chicken change stealthily destroying the career and hard-earned reputation of those who dare call their bluff using their power of influence. In spite of everything, they cannot prevent the dawn. As the Esan and the Edo people would say, Edemie-omawe/Esemuede. 

At my age, educational background, experience, and learning through the years, if I cannot have an opinion on issues and stand by it, I don't know when. I may not always be right, but at least, I have an opinion based on objective analysis and well-informed judgment. It is about intellectual freedom. The last thing I would want to do is change my name or write and publish under a pseudonym. If I can't sign my name on my work, I shouldn't write at all. It is not about observance or the protection under the First Amendment Rights, it is about standing for the truth.

Twice in the past, we did announce our exit, and twice we came back, concerned that the Presidential election might not be an easy win as we thought. Now that the big fight has been fought and won, remaining on the scene would most certainly become pedestrian, unchallenging, and at the same time journalistic - a calling we did not train for and never professed. Besides, we have had success articulating the Nigerian story, which we set out to do from the onset. Therefore, it is time to move on to new challenges. 

Indeed, the mood in most homes and campuses in Nigeria presently is replete with adversities, uncertainties, and hopelessness. Nevertheless, we should not lose hope or lose sight of what we have. God did not bless us with the Niger Delta, the Benue, and Plateau, as well as the first-class brain power that transcends every gamut of human learning all over the world for us to be in a grieving state perpetually. 

Once upon a time, we were categorized as the happiest people on earth. Not anymore. Indeed we can do better. Anything worth doing is worth doing right. We should all unite, speak in one voice, and strive to put an end to the wave of terrorism, lynching, kidnapping, and the institutional failing that makes reasonable people readily disposed toward disintegration. Let's dialogue, listen to each other, and compromise, if need be, for the good of our generation and the generations ahead.  

May God bless you. And may God bless the good people of Nigeria and the good people of the United States of America. 

Thanks for your support and for spreading the message.

So long everybody.

Social Intelligence Part 5: How We Persuaded The Director of the Nigerian Law School to Recue Himself From Hearing the Petition Filed by One Edo State Law Student Against a Fellow Student From Edo State

Making My Own Rules and Managing Risks in the Face of Disappearing Opportunities: The Elasticity of Power and Using it to do Good.

When I became the Secretary of the Edo State Bar Student Association, at the Nigerian Law School in Lagos, Nigeria, our mandate was to meet with the Governor of the state at the time, Chief Odigie Oyegun, and help to secure a Bursary or Student Award for law students of Edo State origin at the Law School. In addition, to defend and protect the entire student body with a view to ensuring their safety and well-being at the Law School. That was the mandate. Dispute resolution was never part of it.  And debt collection was, also, not part of it.

First Absurdity: After a series of traveling to Benin City and meeting with the Governor, he assured us that he would look into our needs and find ways to give us the support that we need. But he was never definite about the date and the amount to be given to us. In one of our meetings, he told us that the Nigerian Law School is indebted to the State Government over unpaid Bursary allocations. It was actually not a debt. The money was given to the Law School to disburse to students of Edo State origin, on behalf of the State Government the previous academic year. Because the bursary award came late, most of the graduating students were already gone and didn't come back to get theirs. Only a few of them came back, resulting in a leftover. That leftover is what the Governor wants us to collect from the Director of the Law School. 

Second absurdity: A female student of Edo State origin, petitioned the Director of the Law School, protesting what she labeled, obscene and indecent language, used by another student, still of Edo State origin, to qualify her during an altercation. The defendant, after being served with a summon to appear before the Director of the Law School to defend the allegation, came to me, demanding that I  meet with the Executive of the Edo State Student body to intercede on his behalf before the Director of the Law School. He made it abundantly clear to me that he cannot stand before the Director. His argument was that as the Secretary of the Student union, whether or not his unique case is part of our mandate, as a friend, I have to intercede on his behalf if I do not want him to be expelled from the Law School. I will come to this later. 

A Check For Edo State Government

With respect to the leftover funds, it beats my imagination why the Governor’s office, the Commissioner for Education, or the Commissioner for Finance did not contact the Law School for all these years to process the refund. They didn't.  

Confident that recovering the unpaid bursary from the Law School would expedite the approval of our application before the state Governor, we met with Dr. Ibironke, the Director of the Law School, hoping. The Director immediately contacted the Chief Accountant of the Law School on our behalf to handle the recovery. A few days later, the Director contacted us and told us that, indeed, there is a leftover. The same week, the Accountant met with us at the Director’s Office and presented us with a check, payable to the Edo State Government.  

Excited over the accomplishment, the entire Executive team traveled to Benin City to present the Check to the Governor. We came back to School disappointed; Governor Oyegun and his team did not make any commitment to approve our demand. 

THE MAIN STORY

Meeting with the Accused 

With respect to the petition written by one of our students, it was, to say the least, a novel case. We did not bargain or anticipate such a challenge when we took office and didn't know exactly how to proceed. The President of the association, who was in fact, a retired Permanent Secretary before returning to the University to study law, handed the case over to me. His reason was that the two students involved in the petition graduated from the same University as me. 

As I said earlier, the first time the student and I met, he made it very clear to me that going to Dr. Ibironke's office is the last thing that he wants to do. He pleaded that I intervene. At that point, I remember what one of the guys who dragged me into the association at the formation stage told me about why they wanted me on the team.

FLASHBACK: Formation of the Association

When the Nigerian Law School, Lagos, Nigeria was reopened for the 1992/93 academic year, most students were hard hit with problems associated with a housing shortage. Besides, the majority of them have never been to Lagos before. If I may add, one very smart lady I admire with passion was not called to the Bar at the same time as us, because of the accommodation problem she had. That was the kind of problem that prompted some students to come together in the hope that distressed students, especially those coming to Lagos for the first time would have an organization to run to for assistance.  

So, it was the severity of the accommodation problem - as I was told later - that prompted some gentlemen to start looking, specifically, for politically savvy students to lead the association. They were looking for students who would be able to represent the association before the Governor of our state and present a persuasive case for the Bursary Award. They met a very popular student involved in show business who recommended my name to them. According to what I was told later, this gentleman told them that the guys he is recommending, read The Nigerian Guardian newspaper every day and he knows about politics, politicians, and public affairs more than anyone he has ever met. 

When they came to me, I told them bluntly that they are meeting with the wrong guy, to wit I am not a student union activist and that I will be the last man to lead students on a matching protest through the street of Benin City. They assured me that, what they want from me is not to organize a protest - given the intensive nature of the program at the Law School and Dr. Ibironke's disciplinary style - but to represent the students before the State Governor and help negotiate bursary awards for them. I joined the group, and about a week later, I was unanimously made the Secretary of the new association. 

Creative Approach/Use of Power:

So, reminiscing on all that transpired during the early stage of the association and what catalyzes my involvement, I thought it would be brazenly selfish and myopic of me to now turn my back on one of my own. He is in a dire situation that he hasn't the slightest thought on how to extricate himself from; I told myself. I took the case and told the student that I will do my best to see that he did not miss any class because of the petition. 

I briefed the President of the association who, initially, wasn't quite receptive to the idea of the Executive injecting itself into a dispute that is already pending before the office of the Director. Worse was the idea of asking the Director to recuse himself from the case, as I suggested. He demanded that I come up with something better to say in our next meeting.

The following day we met. Again, I insisted that the Director recuse himself from the case. I said, traditionally in Esan (Ishan) land, where I come from - which in fact, is a part of the old Benin Kingdom - natives or indigenes never resort to a court or the Police Station to resolve the dispute, without first exhausting all the available traditional avenues of redress. Such as meeting with the Council of Elders and Local Chiefs. On that premise, I argued that the Director should kindly recuse himself from hearing the petition between the two students from the Benin Kingdom. In other words, we - the Executive, representing the people of the Benin Kingdom - are in a better position to resolve the dispute by applying the traditional method. Unless, of course, we are unable to resolve it, then, the case can then proceed to the office of the Director. The President was seemingly not persuaded. 

We met with the Director several times in the past. And I sense a kind of mutual respect existing and developing between the two old men - the Director and our President. I still remember vividly the look in the Director's face when our President told him during our first meeting with him that his last son graduated from the same Nigerian Law School about ten years ago. On that assumption, I was cautiously optimistic that, if the President argues along with the traditional approach to dispute resolution, the Director might see reason with us. At last, the President agreed.

We met with the Director the following day, and lo and behold, he told us that he is all for it, but on one condition. He insisted that the parties, especially the Petitioner, must first, recognize and subscribe to our canvassed jurisdiction. Then, he would recuse himself from the case. In other words, the Petitioner must first agree that we hear the case and that she is willing to be bound by our decision. He dismissed us and told us to get back to him as soon as possible. We thanked him and left.

Meeting with the Accused and the Petitioner

As soon as we get down the stairs, the President told me in a very blunt term: We (that is the rest members of the Executive) don’t know these two students, you know them. Please talk to them and get back to the Director as he instructed.  I thanked him and told him I will do just that.

First, I met with the guy and I told him to wait for me while we were having an audience with the Director. He was completely overwhelmed with joy when I apprised him of the Director’s decision. We agreed to meet the following day at the same spot, hoping to bring the Petitioner along with me.

I didn't get to contact the Petitioner immediately. Rather, I went to a good friend - a confidant and an insider who I always meet when I need to know the news behind the news on campus. I only want to know the nature of the relationship between the two students, if at all. Based on what I was told, I was optimistic that the Petitioner would not like to jeopardize the chances of the accused passing out from Law School successfully.

I met with her the next day. The moment she saw me, the first words that came out of her mouth were: Secretary, where is our bursary? I told her not to worry, and that we are working on it. 

Without much ceremony, I told her my reason for meeting with her. And that the Executive, being the representative of the Edo people on this campus, is interested in the petition that she filed against her friend that is pending at the Director's office. Immediately, I apologized on behalf of the Executive and the entire students of Edo State origin at the Nigerian Law School for what the guy said. God bless her; she did not object one bit to my request. Her only concern was how to withdraw the petition from the Director's office. Hearing that, I smiled and I told her with every gusto I could muster that she should not worry and I will take care of that.

At that juncture, I signaled the accused and he came over to join us. As instructed, the gentleman apologized sincerely and promised never to engage in any form of verbal war with the Petitioner again. And that was it. I thanked the Petitioner for allowing the Executive to intervene, as well as subscribing to our contrived jurisdiction. We shook hands and parted ways.

I ran to the Director’s office to apprise him of the decision, and he was gracious enough to close the case in my presence as he promised. 

At Last, We Got our Bursary and Made History. 

It was the biggest surprise of my eventful year at the Law School, when Pa Obaseki, the Director of Higher Education at the Ministry of Education in Edo State, came down to the Law School. He and his entourage drove down to the campus straight from Benin City to personally present the Bursary Award to us in our final week in Law School. I was at the Library when the news came. I met with the entourage and immediately ran to paste notice everywhere on campus, informing our students that the long-awaited bursary has arrived at last. The hall was packed full, within minutes. After much confusion, an order was restored, and everyone present got his or her one thousand Naira check. 

In the end, my good friend, Pa Obaseki invited me, the Executive, and willing students to join them at a reception at Edo House where the Governor was waiting for us. I protested and told him that I wasn't going, arguing that he did not live up to his promise – the money came very late. We needed the Bursary the very first month of class when the majority of the students were experiencing real and severe hardship here in Lagos. 

The old man apologized and said something that I will never forget. He asked me if I remember the check we brought to the State Government from the Law School, and I replied yes. He asked if I have forgotten why that was the case. I looked at him, not in the mood to say a word. I knew the answer, but was not willing to say it - they did not approve the funds for previous students on time. He said "congratulation my son. This is history! For the first time in many years, students of Edo State origin received their Bursary during the school year. We didn't want a repeat of the past, hence we are here today, standing before you, to personally hand you your check before your graduation." I thanked him and politely reminded him that much as I would have liked to be at the reception, I have an exam to write the following morning. He prayed for me and we parted ways.

The following morning they came back to campus again and set up a paying boot at the front of the students' center and continued the payment until late afternoon. Even students who did not register with us were still paid, as long as they were able to prove their Edoship.

Knowing Pa Obaseki

My last visit or meeting in Benin City with Mr. Obaseki did not start on time. I was at the Office of the Commissioner for Education first thing in the morning. After a brief meeting with the Commissioner, he told me to proceed to Mr. Obaseki’s Office, who was then in charge of Higher Education to take care of my demand. When I got to his office, I made him understand that I wasn't going anywhere until I receive a firm commitment from him of the amount he is committed to and the time of disbursement. 

After waiting for almost the whole day, he came back to me and made a passionate, but Fatherly plea. Not with respect to the bursary, but for my safety at the Benin-Ore-Lagos road. He said, "my son [that's me], my own brother’s child - my nephew - is a student at the Law School right now, just like you.  [I know the guy, a fine gentleman, who stood up once to defend me during a heated debate at the Association meeting]. But we don't see him here often. I don’t want anything to happen to you on that bad road. It is not safe and it is not advisable. I am a parent and I know your parents would be very proud of you when you graduate. Please go back to school. I don't want to see you here again and I don't want anything to happen to you driving through that road. I promise; you will get your Bursary." He concluded and dismissed me. And I took his words.

Conclusion

Granted, the Bursary Award did not come when needed it most, however, the Executive exceeded their terms of reference. Edo State Government got a refund from the Law School, thanks to our effort. Then again, I do not know how my friend would have handled the petition written against him by a fellow student, or what would have happened if the Association had not intervened on his behalf. What I do know is that both students became close friends again and were successful at the Bar Examination.  

On a final note, we write the Social Intelligence Series to prove a point: There is nothing like "my hands are tied" when circumstances trusted leadership positions on you. The goal should always be: How do we interpret the article incorporating the office, not just to do the routine, but to do good not specifically defined therein. That is our definition of leadership, and that's exactly the essence of the lesson told by the Social Intelligence Series. For now, we can only write about what we know, hoping as always, that someone is reading. That is the most we can do from the outside. 

As I sign off on the Social Intelligence Series, I take solace in the amazing and inspiring words of Steve Prefontaine - "Success isn't how far you got, but the distance you traveled from where you started." It is not how far, but how well. After all said and done, I'm content, and confident that the best is yet to come.

May God Bless us all. 

                                                                     

Social Intelligence - Part Four: Managing the Dining at PBGS With Change

Making My Own Rules and Managing Risks in the Face of Disappearing Opportunities: How I Single-handedly Changed and Improved the Quality of our Meals as Acting Dining Hall Prefect in my Grammar School days.

INTRODUCTION: 

When I became a boarding student in Form Four or Class Four, I never for once thought of being saddled with the responsibility of managing students' feeding in less than two months. So, when my friend Alfred, then the Dining Hall/Food Prefect invited me over to the Dining one afternoon and told me of his intention to put me in charge of Food and Dining, I was in a state of shock, knowing full well that students riot on school campuses are most often, food and feeding-related. He was a very smart student and was about to travel to Lagos to sit for the General Certificate of Education examination, popularly referred to then as the GCE. Then, I was quite younger than he was. I had a lean frame. Besides, I was new to the boarding system, and the last time I was in a leadership position was when my Headmaster in my Primary School, made me the Mail Boy - going to the Post Office to drop up and pick up mail, that's it. This time, the DP assured me that he gave me the position because managing Dining Hall and Food is not about size, but being intelligent and at the same time, being able to command the respect and trust of the student body. By the way, the instant DP succeeded a gentleman, who is presently a Barrister and Senior Advocate of Nigeria.

For me, starting was not easy. The Deputy Dining Hall Prefect was a Form Five student, in the same class as Alfred who handed his responsibility over to me. As expected, the gentleman was very uncomfortable with the power that I wield. I was acting in the position of the Dining Hall Prefect, and he couldn't do anything to eject me or override my decisions, even though he was my senior. Besides, I was doing a great job that he and the Dining Hall Prefect couldn't have attempted or imagined as you would see later. There was also the Stall Prefect, who was a Form Four student like me - the one who manages and takes inventory of the foodstuffs in stock. He is the one who contacts the Bursar about what we need. He has about three junior students assisting him in the Stall. On the other hand, it is the responsibility of the Dining Hall Prefect to ensure that the Kitchen staff (Kitchen women as we called them) prepare our meals. Also, he supervises the sharing and the organization of the Dining Hall during meals. And now, I am in charge of all that. Unexpectedly, my friendship ballooned. Some of my Day-Student friends would always come over to my "corner" (that's my room) every morning to have their breakfast. It was fun. And I was doing a great job.

At the end of the First Term, there were still plenty of foodstuffs left in the stall - food pantry - unused. So, on the last evening of that First Term, the Food Prefect and I went to the Stall to take inventory of the unused foodstuffs. As I watched, he divided the leftover into many portions for the top Prefects in his class, all Form Five Students. I received a bag loaded with rice, milk, a can of tomatoes, Sun Light Soap, and Margarine. It was huge. I took it to my room and shoved it underneath my bed. The next day, I took the foodstuffs home with me for the Christmas break. When I opened the bag or discharged the contents, my Mom wasn't amused. She told me to take them back to where I brought them. Initially, she was very adamant about her demand. I assured her that it was part of the leftover in the storage - I didn't steal the food items, I assured her. (Saying it as if it is the tradition). I sat down and explained to her how I got my share. But she wasn't really comfortable with the whole story. It was that experience of the leftover that prompted me to make some drastic changes in the quality and quantity of food or meals that we serve our students the following Second and Third terms that I was at the Dining Hall.  When we returned for the Second Term after the Christmas holiday, it was business as usual, but this time, my involvement took a dramatic, but more commanding and assertive tone. 

THE MAIN STORY

Initiating Drastic Changes, without Ceremony

The Watery Stew

One evening after a meal of rich, I went to Mama, the Head Cook, and asked her a very naive,  but never before asked question. I was simply curious about the watery nature of our rice stew, and why it wasn't as thick and juicy as that of my Mom at home. So, I put the question her, why the stew is always watery and not as thick as my Mom's own. As I was about to complete my statement or question, all the Kitchen women stop what they were doing and stood up to stare at me, not able to make meaning out of what they just heard. Mama beckoned to them to calm down. She asked me politely: My "Pikin" (for my child), how many of you does your Mom cook for at home? Just me and my immediate elder Sister, I responded. Then, she threw a bombshell; "your Mom’s stew is thick because she has plenty of tomatoes and onions to prepare her stew for just you and your sister. I cook for about 450 of you here every day, and I have to ensure that all of you have enough stew to eat your rice." At that juncture, I interjected and asked her politely, yet naively, if it is the shortage of tomatoes and onions that make her stew watery. She said yes. Then, I asked "if I give you more tomatoes and onions, your stew will be better and thicker? Mama stood up and said, "yes my Pikin". And she walked away to the inner room. (By the way, Mama has been with the Grammar School since the very first day in 1959, and more than twenty years later, she is being told that her rice stew is not thick enough).  

After my encounter with  Mama and her Kitchen colleagues, I went straight to the Food Stall. Luckily for me, the three junior students assisting the Stall Prefect were still there. I asked them how many cans of tomatoes they provide for stew each day. They gave me the exact number. Right there, I told them, starting from tomorrow afternoon, you guys must start adding half of that quantity of tomatoes and onions for every stew - a 50% increase in content. They all said okay, senior. That became the standard until I left that School two years later. The best is yet to come.

Separating Stones From Rice

One evening after a meal of rice, I did not find a single stone in the rice (To my Nigerian audience, they know what I am talking about). So I went to the Kitchen to thank Mama and her staff for doing a good job removing every stone from our rice. When I got there they were doing some cleaning. I stood there, but Mama was not there. One of them called out, and when Mama responded, the lady that called out said, "he is here again." Mama came out and said, "how are you doing my Pikin?" I told her everything is okay, but that I come to thank her for the good job she did this afternoon separating every stone from the rice she prepared for us.

Mama came closer to me and said, my Pikin, "we did not remove any stone from your rice today." I was in a state of shock. Then, who did? I asked. "Nobody", she replied. I was still looking perturbed, then she said, "the type of rice you gave us to cook today, does not come with stones." "It is a different brand of rice, different from the type we cooked for you the day before yesterday." Still, in a state of shock, she told me to follow her to the Food Stall. (Normally, Kitchen Women do not go to the Food Stall, but this time, Mama and I broke the rule and we went inside). She said "this bag and this bag have stones in them", pointing at two bags of rice. Then she said, holding the side of a different bag, "this is the one we cooked for you today. It has no stone in it, and the same with that over there." Pointing at another bag of rice not yet opened.  And she walked out of the Stall, leaving me in my adolescence world. I grabbed a red pen or marker and marked the two bags of rice with stones.

I went to the Dining Hall to fetch the Stall Boys. Inside the Stall, I instructed them never to take rice from the two bags with red marks. And they replied, yes, senior. And that, my friends, became the rule - the beginning of rice meal without stones at the prestigious Pilgrim Baptist Grammar School, Ewohimi, founded in 1959. The year was 1980.

There was no ceremony, no consultation, no deliberation, and no permission from anyone. It was an opportunity I didn't want to fly by. Also, there was no objection from anyone, not even the Food Master when he was told weeks later. (I will come to that later). 

In hindsight, I was unknowingly using my privileged upbringing to measure the quality of meals my fellow students deserve. And I did that while in an acting capacity as the Food/Dining Hall Prefect. By the way, the Boarding System started when the Grammar School was opened in 1959, with Mr. George Washington - an African American - as the founding Principal. Then, I was not born. Years later, I was to change history effortlessly, and unannounced. The best is yet to come. And I was in Form Four, and in an acting capacity.

Changing and Improving the Quality of our Meals and Preempting Riot and Protests in the process. 

Before I accepted the post, I already knew that most of the disturbances in Grammar School are feeding-related. I also knew that once a rumor of student protests started to circulate in my School, the Food Master do not always spend the Night in his Official residence at the Staff Quarters. I made up my mind to preempt, by every means possible, any form of student protest or riot. To achieve that, I have to change and improve the quality of our meals, without adding to the feeding budget. Because of the leftover that I experienced at the end of the First Term.

After spending just a month in the Boarding system, I knew that students do not like APC/Tablet, which stands for Yam and Stew. I also knew that their favorite meal is Rice and Beans, otherwise known as AROBELE, followed by Rice and Stew, and Beans and Pap (cornmeal), as well as Bread/Egg/Tea in the morning.   

What I did was simple: APC was reduced to twice a week, and rice and stew were increased to five times a week. And Arobele - students’ favorite - was increased from twice a week to four times a week, leading to a drastic reduction in Yam and stew, as well as Eba and Egusi soup. I did something else. I realized that each time we serve Bread, Egg, and Tea in the morning; we always have tons of bread left over. What I did was to have two extra loaves of bread on each table. Given that we have four students at a table, each student would then have a loaf and a half in the morning, instead of one loaf as it was in the past. 

Again, there was no deliberation or consultation about the decision. No question and no objection from anyone. The Stall boys loved it. And the Kitchen women loved it. And the Deputy Dining Hall Prefect didn't really know what I was doing or how I was running the kitchen and the Dining Hall.

Once, I was reliably informed that students were planning to riot over some inarticulate grievances, and I made up my mind to take feeding out of it, if at all. The very night the riot was to take place, students were fed with Eba in the afternoon, instead of just APC. And in the evening, instead of just Rice, they were served AROBELE. So, on that particular evening, they were caught unaware. Rice and Beans, aka, AROBELE, did the magic. That was it. No ground to grieve. After the meal, students just went to class and later on went to bed, without a sign of grief or resentment of the Food Master/Bursar or the Principal.

Most of the students just assumed that the Principal and the Food Master have decided to improve the quality of our meals. Not knowing that one of them is engineering the drastic changes. (My diligent collaborator was not even the Stall Prefect, but his unofficial assistant who was then in Form Three. (A fine Custom Officer at the time I left the country years later).  But something unusual happened the following morning.

A disgruntled student, disappointed that no riot took place, went and dropped the School Bell inside the School Well (underground water storage). And without the Bell, you cannot organize students or the School. There was complete paralysis of activities the following morning. It was around about 9 a.m. that one of our students sighted the Bell inside the Well, located by the Dining Hall. With the School Bell found and retrieved, the order was restored and the Principal was able to organize the morning Assembly meeting as usual. 

That afternoon, I came to the Dining Hall a little bit late. As I walked in, I was met at the entrance by the Food Master. He came to me and asked: you must be Alex, and I replied yes, sir. Then, he said, "they told me much about you." He shook my hand and said, "thank you so much for all that you have been doing here in the Kitchen and Dining Hall." Then, he took me to the stall and told me that he has removed the bags of rice that came with stones and assured me that he will not supply that type of rice again. The feeding patterns and the quality of the meal stayed that way until I graduated from school.

I was a Form Four student when it all happened. I was as old as the regular or average class four student then, so you should be able to rightly figure out my age.

Success in leadership is this: you must first have the ability (insight)  to know and understand that something isn't right. As a guide, do not start by asking yourself if you can change it or make the situation better. Start by finding ways to make the situation better, be willing to ask a question, and confront rejection. 

On the other hand, if you are not in a position to implement the changes, look for others who are better situated than you to implement the changes. And if you are right, as I have always been, you do not need to do much convincing. It is about moral judgment, believing that your conscience is pure and the truth is in your favor. It started by never failing to ask a question. Above all, be willing to learn, be gracious about accepting corrections, and be prepared to stand your ground, if doing so is the best approach. It is about common sense and taking action.

Social Intelligence - Part Three: Saving the EDSU Graduating Law Class of 1992

Making My Own Rules and Managing Risks in the Face of Disappearing Opportunities: How a Timely intervention preempted a planned Student Riot, thus saving graduation in the process.

YOU CAN SKIP THIS PART AND GO STRAIGHT TO "THE MAIN STORY"

My coming to Bendel State University (BENSU), now Ambrose Ali University, Ekpoma, Nigeria in the 1988/1989 academic year, nearly did not happen. Maybe it was meant to be. I took the Joint Matriculation Examination (JME) administered by the Joint Admission and Matriculation Board (JAMB) in 1988, and, as the tradition is, went to my first choice University – BENSU - to check my result when it came out. My score was 249, which was lower than the 256 points I got on the same exam in 1984. By the way, I did not choose BENSU that year, even though my cousin, who was then a final-year Political Science student at the same Institution, did everything to ensure my admission. In a similar vein, that Score was lower than the 265 points, I got in the JME of 1985. That year, my only choice of University, was the then the University of IFE. I traveled to Ife, hoping to become part of Great IFE that year on the basis of my high score at the JME. But it was not meant to be - they did not offer me admission. Not necessarily because I did not do well or meet the 250 general cut-off scores but on the basis of quota application. They told me point-blank at the Admission Office that my score did not meet the cut-off scores set specifically for Bendel State candidates. He said something else to support their decision that I do not want to repeat here. When I started to cry, the gentleman asked me if I want to transfer to English, instead. I declined. I cried, and cried, and cried. But no one could perceive the inner pain, the turmoil, or had a clue of the self-hatred that I was going through. Why can't I get into the University of my choice when I want to? I dried my face, took some pictures, and joined a ride to my cozy apartment in Benin City, blaming no one for my admission misfortune, but myself for all the hard choices I am making. 

What made my situation most complicated, as was the case in my previous JME, was that I did not choose another University - no second and no third choice - just IFE.  Similarly, with respect to the program or the course I want to study, my only choice was Law, and Law only.  In other words, I have no alternative School, and no alternative course, as permitted by JAMB. Call it foolhardy and plainly dumb, you would be very right. That was what made it very difficult for my friends to help me secure admission. I stubbornly took that decision,  confident and trusting that the JME Preparatory Class I took at the University of Benin, Ekenwan Campus, would do the magic for me.  It did, but not for me. But for other candidates who did not choose the same University of IFE as I did. For them, it was admission galore. Almost all of them who were comfortable choosing other Universities - and who, in fact, scored lower than I did - were all admitted that year. 

So, in September 1988, when the JME result came out, I went to BENSU, as expected to meet with the Admission  Officer.  The guy I met in the office told me he is not sure I would make it. Based on that information, I went back to Benin City, supremely confident that I would travel to the US or England for my University education. Luckily for me, by the second week of November 1988, I got a Visa to travel to England. My flight was to be on January 10, 1989. Unknown to me, a few days after my visit to BENSU, in September, my name appeared on the Admission Board as one of the successful candidates. 

I spent Christmas in Benin City in the company of my girlfriend. For the New Year celebration, I traveled with my family and friends to their country home at Uromi in Esan (Ishan). I came back on January 2, 1989. As I was getting out of the vehicle at the Motor Park, I bumped into Joseph, the Senior Clerk at my firm. He told me that I have a “special letter” waiting for me at the office.

I have worked with a firm of Auditors and Chartered Accountants since my graduation from Grammar School. And I was at the Management Consulting Unit, headed by a British-trained Chartered Accountant. Joseph was the Chief Clerk at the firm. During that period, I was working on a project at the University of Benin Teaching Hospital (UBTH), with four other guys. Three of the four guys – Uncle Matt, Brother Patrick, and Brother Musa – went to School in England. I brought up this part of the story for a reason. As Joseph was about to go, he told me that he sent the letter to UBTH, thinking I was still there with my team.  

Breaking Point: Travel to London, England, or Accept Admission to Study Law at BENSU!

The following morning - the 3rd of January 1989 - I went straight to UBTH, not to collect my so-called special letter, but to tell my colleagues that I am leaving for Lagos for my flight to London, England on the 10th. When I arrived, all my guys were already at work, and it was a happy reunion after the two weeks of Christmas break. When they gave me the letter, it had a strange look. 

I could figure that the letter is the same stamped-self-addressed envelope that I included in my application package to JAMB for the JME.  I opened it, but couldn't fathom exactly what it was about. Luckily for me, one student from Auchi Polytechnic, who was doing his Industrial Attachment at the Accounting Depart at UBTH, was in the room. He took the letter from me and said, hey men, congratulation! You've been admitted to study Law at Bendel State University, Ekpoma. And my mouth dried up instantly. The letter came directly from JAMB, informing me that BENSU offered me admission to study Law. 

That is totally rare. You don’t stay at home waiting for JAMB to send your admission letter to you. As soon as you see your name on the Notice or Admission Board at your first choice University, you commence registration immediately, because it is generally assumed that you would be coming to the University every now and then to monitor the admission process and check for your name. That, I never did that particular year. Besides, it was a big surprise to my colleagues at work, as well as my friends and family members. None of them was in the picture this time about my admission or JME preparation. I did not tell anyone that I took the JME. I just didn't want anyone to be part of my series of JME missteps, sorrow, and sadness any longer. But at that moment, joy and confusion enveloped the room.

I sat down, totally confused, and didn't know what to do next – accept the admission or travel to England? That was the question. Uncle Patrick, the guy who fought relentlessly, but without success, for me to get into the same BENSU or UNIBEN in 1986, pleaded with me to accept the admission. Adding that going to England is replete with uncertainties. He added I might not be able to get through with a University education over there successfully the way I thought. Brother Musa echoed his view - stating in his thick British accent that a bird in hand is worth two in the bush. Uncle Matt - my mentor and comrade in crime - spoke last. He asked me if I know what Old Boys Network is. I told him no. He said, leaving Nigeria now will create a vacuum in your social, political, and business life in years to come in this country. In his summation, your University classmates and buddies will be there for you to hang around with and call on professionally and otherwise when you want to get things done in the future. Their wives and children are the ones to party with you, your wife, and your children. They are your brothers, and that is your base. He added, positions and opportunities may come and go, but Ol’Boy Network stays. Somebody like you, my friend, should be very close to home, not necessarily for the sake of your family members, but for the realization of what myself and every one of us in this room has seen in you and cherished; what we have grown to accept and love about you - big dreams, innate intelligence, ability to command respect and attention, and above all, your respect and trustworthiness.  Accept the admission, Alex. Please. Get your degree; you can always travel after your program. And he concluded.

That was it. It was unanimous: all my four colleagues – who I look up to as Big Brothers, and who relate to me as their equal over the years - not minding the age gap - told me to accept the admission, and put the travel on hold for another day. 

In hindsight, it has always been my dream to get my first degree in Nigeria. In other words, if I had wanted to travel out, I would have traveled long ago in 1984 or '85. 

Just a recap: It was a hard decision to make. I have my visa that Bendelites spend thousands of Naira to obtain, and here I am about to let it go and go for my bachelor's degree that I was sure certain, if I stay away from the "journey just come" attitude on our campuses. I joined my class in January 1989, because I didn't know I was offered admission until January 03. Luckily for me, BENSU postponed its Matriculation from November 12, 1988, to January 06, 1989, following the students’ riot on November 10, 1988. That riot led to the indefinite closure of the University on November 11, a day before Matriculation. I was lucky, my admission did not lapse. In other words, the riot of November 10^th saved my law degree in Nigeria. 

THE MAIN STORY

So, when I eventually came to BENSU as an admitted and matriculated student for the 1988/89 academic year, I was already a "Big Boy" - behaving and dressing as if I have been overseas for years. Knowing the decision that I took regarding traveling to the UK, I made a resolution to stay away from Girls Hostel, Student Unionism, and membership in any club or association. Above all, I made a vow never to spend more than four years on the Faculty.

And it was so, until this particular Thursday afternoon about the last week of October 1992, a few days to our final exams and a few weeks or months to the twice postponed resumption date at the Nigerian Law School, in Lagos, Nigeria. That was when I had a chance to meet with Joe. Joe is a friend and a fellow Law Student, as well as, a member of the Student Union. In fact, being the Speaker of the Student Union Executive Council - is not a small job. 

Pre-empt a Planned Peaceful Protest with Fiat

Indeed, it was a chance meeting, but one, ordained to happen by God. I was working towards my Hostel when I saw Joe, a classmate and a member of the Student Union, representing the Law Faculty at the Student Council. He was in a rush, heading towards the Student Union Secretariat. I confronted him as if I had a premonition of what is in the offing. His response was as I thought. They are having an emergency meeting at the Secretariat, to finalize what he described, as a planned peaceful protest the following morning from the campus to market square in the city.

My response was fierce and blunt: it is not going to happen. Okay, my friend, the protest is not going to happen. There is not going to be any riot or protest or match, whether peaceful or hostile. It will not happen. I repeated my lines over and over and over, to the amazement of my good friend, Joe

I reminded him that we have completed our entire syllabus, not just for the semester and for the year, but for the entire bachelor's degree program. I made him understand that I do not want to spend a day longer than four years in this town for any childish decision taken by professional students. He replied that the decision has been concluded and the meeting he is about to attend is just to finalize the logistic aspect - the route, time, and handling of errant students during the protest. When I heard that, I was furious within me, but resisted the urge to verbalize my anger. 

I took a deep breath and looked straight into his eyes and made the following declaration: In the history of students’ unionism, no peaceful protest has ever ended peacefully. There are always miscreants here and there ready and willing to capitalize on the vexing situation to vent their anger on innocent drivers, businesses, commuters, and public and school properties. And at the end, Police are always invited, tear gas and bullets are freely used by the Police, students are apprehended and arrested, and followed by indefinite suspension of the entire student body. Then I paused and pleaded with Joe to go back and tell the Student Union President and the Executive that the peaceful protest should be confined to the inside of the University Campus and to support his motion with what I have been telling him since the beginning of this discussion.  Also, they should invite all the leaders of the different associations to address the rally, for legitimacy purposes. 

Most importantly, I reminded my friend, that our final exams are about to start any day and he shouldn't do anything to jeopardize our chances of proceeding to Law School.  Joe is a tough dude, intelligent, outspoken, and boisterous. He is an active and quintessential Student Unionist. But at that moment, I was talking to him, not as a colleague, but as if he is my junior Brother or a subordinate at the workplace. My demeanor was he has to do it and do it successfully, without excuse. We shook hands on that and parted ways.

Instead of going to the Library, I went straight to my room to pray for a favorable outcome.

About three hours later, there was a knock on my door. It was my guy. He was pensive but supremely relaxed. He handed me the Flyer, said I will see you later, and went away. He did it. The protest is going to be peaceful and it is confined to the student center, close to the Boys' hostel. And it is happening that very evening, instead of the next day. 

They invited all leading members of the different associations within the University to address the student body as I suggested. As expected, it turned out to be a huge rally. The President of the Student Union made a long speech, followed by Man-O-War President and others. In the end, all of us dispersed, without any fracas. I went to bed thanking God for his intervention. But there is a big surprise in the offing.

The following morning, it was Professor Aihe (the Dean of the Law Faculty) who took Law Students by surprise. It was on Friday morning and students were greeted with the exam schedule for the semester, starting the following Monday and ending in two weeks.  We have been studying for the past weeks and most of us are tired and want to get done with our Bachelor's degree and get out of the University. But there is yet another big surprise in the offing.

A week later, the Nigerian Law School, Lagos came out with their resumption schedule for the 1992/1993 academic year, making the first day mandatory for every successful student. As it turned out, the resumption date at the Nigerian Law School is the Monday immediately after our final exam on Friday. In other words, our exam ends on a Friday, and the following Monday was the beginning of Law School in Lagos. The resumption date was postponed twice to give Law Faculties across the nation the opportunity to graduate their students due to protests and riots over the year. 

Our last exam came on a Friday morning in November and I got to my Cousin's house in Benin City that evening. On Saturday morning, I left for Lagos. On Sunday, I was enjoying myself, wining and dining with my elder Brother, friends, and family members for making them broad. And the following morning – Monday - I was a student at the Nigerian Law School in Lagos, Nigeria. Nothing could be more dramatic.  Sadly, our Sister University was not that lucky.

Lagos State University, popularly known as LASU, was shut down. They went on protesting and rioting the very weekend we were to embark on a peaceful protest, which Joe and I averted. The University was shut down and students were sent home. At the time the Nigerian Law School opened its door to new students, LASU students were still at home. When the institution eventually re-opened, it was too late for the Law Students to take their final exams and join their fellow law students at the Nigerian Law School. 

I don’t know what would have 
happened if Joe and I did not meet to take action. All I know is that the planned peaceful protest in the City did not happen. And I did not spend a day longer at Ekpoma. I am not going to dwell on what if it had happened. What did not happen is irrelevant. It is about decision-making and taking action. If leadership is failing, it is a function of faculty deficit. It is about wisdom, a creative mindset, and the ability to dream big and take bold action. Call it risk, if you like, that is the beginning of greatness. 
Addendum: the US vs Nigeria in Terms of educational aspirations.

(So, at the time I eventually came to BENSU in the 1988/89 academic year, the 1984/85 JME candidates had graduated, while the 1985/86 sets, were in their final year. In the US, it is a different story. If you work hard, nothing could prevent you from matriculating to the University of your choice, or stop you from pursuing the course of learning that you desire to pursue. 

While in the US, I met a Harvard Professor at a Barbing Shop in Boston, Massachusetts, who told me - after much discussion - that if I really want to go back to Nigeria, and hope to enhance my practice or job opportunities in the public sector back home, and at the same time, do not want to spend more money, I should apply to Harvard University evening program. He recommended the Administration and Management Masters level program at the Extension School, under the Faculty of Arts and Sciences. His reason was that in that particular school, I would be able to take eight graduate-level courses in Law, Business, Communication, and Computer Sciences, while still working. 

The program is pay-per-go. In other words, you pay for only the classes you are taking, and there are no school fees to be paid. It is one year of full-time of studies - four courses every semester, and up to five years of part-time studies. 

I applied and was accepted. And I drove a Taxi in the City of Boston in the daytime, while I attended classes at night. I started the program in 2001 and completed it in 2003. A few years later, I decided once again, to go back to graduate school. This time to have a Master of Law degree (LLM), specifically in Energy and Mineral Resources/Environmental law. Two Universities came up on my Google search - the University of Houston, Houston, Texas, and the University of Denver Sturm College of Law, Denver, Colorado. I applied to both schools, and both of them offered me admission. I went to Denver, not necessarily for academic and related reasons, but to have experience with different environments or weather conditions in the US. Now you know why America is God's own Country. Your educational aspiration is not limited by where you come from or the color of your skin, but by you and you only. I wasted four good years of my life trying to get admission, without success. In spite of the fact that I had the correct number of credits, and was scoring higher than the national cut-off score in the Joint Matriculation Examination. In a similar vein, when I was processing my application to the University of Houston and the University f Denver, the Nigerian factor came up again. My transcripts from Harvard were processed the same day and arrived at the two Universities within three days. It took me one whole year to get my transcript out of Nigeria; otherwise,  I would have graduated in June 2010, instead of June 2011. 

The patient dog, they say, eats the fattest bone. I never give up on the goal that I set for myself, no matter the hardship. It might be slow, but I have no doubt in my mind that the dream will eventually come to pass as planned. I believe in taking action. I confront situations, issues, people, and institutions in ways that people least expect. I do so, not to impress anyone or prove a point, but to satisfy my conscience. That is who I am. It is about doing onto others what you would expect others to do to you. It is about live and letting live.

Watch Out for Parts Four, and Five 

Social Intelligence - Part Two: Trip to Nigeria Consulate in New York

Making My Own Rules and Managing Risks in the Face of Disappearing Opportunities: The removal of the "Travelling to Nigeria is Dangerous" sign from the boarding point at all the Airports in the United States of America. 

Introduction: 

She is a Patent Attorney and a good friend. We were intimate. At that time she could confidently write the story of my life, my dreams as well as my aspirations. Through her Dad, she became close to this retired Professor who happened to know another Professor who is the Husband of a prominent African American Lady to be honored by the Nigerian Consulate General in New York City, New York. This Lady - the Special Guest of Honor - was one of the distinguished African American personalities at the Festival of Art and Culture, popular known as FESTACT, held in Nigeria decades ago. 

My friend knew of the event just when it was happening the next day. She called to ask if I would like to go, and I told her yes, provided I have my invitation letter before leaving for New York - I do not want to suffer any humiliation at the gate in the hands of the Nigerian diplomatic staff over the invitation letter. She then contacted her Professor friend who in turn contacted his contact in New York. The following morning, my invitation card arrived via overnight express mail. The retired Professor and I drove from Boston to New York City in my friend’s brand-new car.

My Encounter with Dr. Ozichi Alimole, the Minister-Counselor in charge of Information at the Nigerian Consulate in New York City, New York.  

At the party, I dressed up in a complete vintage Hausa chain embroidered half-length kaftan made of white Guinea Brocade fabric, tailored in Nigeria. The Professor was also regally dressed in Yoruba three-piece Agbada, Buba, and Sokoto that I provided for him for the occasion.  Though the Professor and I were dressed up in Nigerian attire, we sat among the American guests on the left-hand side, facing the Podium. While the Nigerian guests and the staff of the Mission occupied the right-hand side, visibly and beautifully dressed up in our rich traditional dresses, as well.

As we waited for the party to start, somehow, I became the center of attention: A tall and elderly-looking African American – a retired Deputy Police Commissioner - and his family members treated me as if I was some kind of an object of attraction. Not only did they admire me and my traditional dress – just a two-piece kaftan - they were touching me and feeling my cloth right there at the center of the reception hall. The retired DPC later gave me his business card and begged me – I mean, plead with me – to supply him and his friends the exact replica of what I was wearing, and at whatever cost. Right there, he gave me the measurement of his waist, neck, leg, and sleeve, and I scribbled them down at the back of his business card – which I still have with me as I type this piece. Initially, I was a little bit embarrassed, but later I felt cool. After all, it was a cultural event, I look highly distinguished, and at the same time, very willing to display my country's rich cultural heritage to the African American guests.

After about an hour of waiting, the party started, and a gentleman by the name, of Dr. Ozichi J. Alimole, Minister-Counselor, Consul for Commerce & Information, was introduced. And he went on to introduce the Head of the Mission. He was visibly in charge of the event. During the pre-dinner cocktail, and while people were making friends and discussing business, I came face to face with Dr. Alimole. We greeted and shook hands. I actually initiated the contact, knowing that I have a question to ask him. Without much ado, I took caution and social ethics to the wind, and I asked him if he has traveled late out of New York City through LaGuardia or JFK Airport. And he replied yes.

(At the time of the event in 1999 I was working part-time on weekends, at Logan Airport in Boston Massachusetts, while studying for my MCSE Certification. Then, at the departure point inside of the airport, there was a sign – boldly written and conspicuously placed – stating: Travelling to Nigerian and Haiti is Dangerous. As one who unrepentantly wears the Nigerian toga all over me, the sign was repellent). 

So, meeting a top Nigerian diplomat and challenging him to action, I said to myself, is the best way to start the party. I asked my new friend if he has seen the sign I described above. He said yes. Have you taken any steps to have the sign removed? If not, what effort are you making or willing to make to have it removed? I asked, staring at his face. The man did not say a word. To say that he was stunned beyond comprehension was an understatement. He didn't offer me a further response. He simply excused me and moved on to chat with other guests. And I went back to my seat to relish my drink, satisfied that the journey is not wasted after all.  But Dr. Alimole was not done with me yet.

A few minutes later, as soon as he completed his speech - right there at the podium - he pointed his hand in my direction, signaling that I should come over. I looked back, thinking that he was talking to someone else. My Professor friend sitting beside me, said to me, it's you he wants to talk to. I stood up and we walked toward each other. At that point, the MC invited the Head of the Mission to the podium for his speech.

As Dr. Alimole and I walked toward each other, I made up my mind to apologize to him for my hostile questioning. As he approached me, he brought out his wallet, removed his elegantly embroidered official business card, and handed it over to me. Getting closer, he said, listen to me: I don’t know who you are; nevertheless, you are the type of Nigerian I want to be seen in this place any time we are having an event or function. As I tried to apologize, he cut me off, saying, you don't have to. I need people like you here. (By the way, I still have his business card and that of the Deputy Police Commissioner with me). 

I told him that being a student, and the fact that I live in Boston would make attendance financially and logistically problematic, if not impossible.  He was seemingly disappointed that I should turn down such an open, and of course, a rare invitation. That was our last meeting. As I walk to my seat, my Professor friend was beaming with a smile. When I sat down, he tapped me on the back and said: "That was a smart move, Alex; I can see why your girlfriend is so fond of you."

When the retired Professor told the Special Guest (name withheld) and her husband at their New York residence (where both of us spent the night) about the discussion I had with Dr. Alimole, they were very ecstatic. She said I can see you working at the consulate soon. I reminded them that it doesn't work that way; diplomatic appointments are handled at the home front.

Memo to Dr. Alimole and the "one-page memo is the best" as per advice that I received from Dr. Jegede of the Nigerian Law School in Lagos, Nigeria some years ago.

When I got back to Boston, I decided to assist or collaborate with Dr. Alimole to remove that sign at the US Airports, by sending him a handwritten letter. I drafted a three-page memo, stating what to do, who to meet, and how to proceed first in Nigeria before meeting with specified individuals (name withheld) in the US. Later, I edited the letter to one page, following the advice Professor Jegede - the then Secretary of the Nigerian Law School in Lagos - gave me, while I was a student at the Law School.

Flash Back - Meeting with Dr. Jegede: We were about three hundred and fifty students of Edo State origin at the Nigerian Law School that year, and only nineteen spots were allocated to us at the newly built Hostel. I took part in the ballot for the nineteen spots but was not successful. A few days later, I gathered from a reliable source that the Old Igbosere Hostel, opposite the old Supreme Court, has few vacant bed spaces. At Igbosere, eligibility for space was not by ballot, but strictly on who you know. 

First, you have to draft a letter and have it endorsed by a prominent family member and then send it to the office of the Secretary to be considered for a bed space.  Two of my closest buddies – names withheld – did and were offered bed space. Then, I said to myself, granted there is no one yet in my family with a national profile, but I will get a bed space with my own last name.

Overnight, I drafted a six-page long memo, arguing persuasively why the highly respected Secretary should give me a bed space. I later reduced it to three pages. I took the letter straight to his office the following morning. Fortunately, I must say, the Secretary to Secretary was very helpful and friendly to me. In spite of the fact that there were about ten visitors, mostly students and parents, already waiting to see the Secretary, this dude got up from his chair and asked me, though smiling, "are you afraid to see the Secretary?"  I said no Sir. Then he got up from his seat and said, follow me. 

He walked towards the Secretary's door, opened it, and said, you wait here. He went inside and closed the door behind him. He came out a few minutes later and ordered me to go inside that the Secretary (Dr. Jegede) wants to see me. Then he closed the once again, but this time, I was the one inside with the Secretary. I greeted the Secretary, bowing my head, and touching my kneel the traditional Yoruba style. 

As luck would have it, Professor Jegede - God bless him - did the unexpected: He gave me accommodation right there on the spot. But counseled me seriously as a Father would do, to make the memo or petition one page next time. It saves time. He added finally that he read just the first and concluding paragraph.  Overwhelmed with joy and excitement, I dobale right there in his office, thanking him for his kindness and professional advice.

Many years later, remembering that fatherly counsel from Professor Jegede, I reduced the memo to Dr. Alimole to just one page. It was handwritten, suggesting the people to meet and what he must do first in Nigeria for the subsequent meeting with the people in the US government to be meaningful and fruitful. Using the address on the business card which also corresponds with the address on my invitation card to the event, I mailed the letter directly to Dr. Alimole at the Consulate General of Nigeria by registered mail. 

In the US, it is generally assumed, and rightly so, that once a letter is properly addressed and stamped, it is taken as delivered. I did not hear from Dr. Alimole.

However, about one month later, that sign disappeared from all the Airports in the United States. Since that chance encounters at the Nigerian House in New York with Dr. Alimole - about twelve years ago - I have not seen him or spoken to him. Whether or not my letter plays any role in the removal of that vexing sign at the US Airports, one thing remains clear: A First Class Diplomat took a chance with an unknown, but audacious dreamer - a risk-taker, who was not willing to let go an opportunity to make a change. I was lucky. There was a very senior diplomat who was in the right position to bring the change to fruition. Who, in fact, did perform. And Nigeria was better for it.

Analysis.

Raw sense, common sense, intellectualism; it doesn't matter, as long as the system is made to work. It doesn't matter that I am an American citizen. I am a native Nigerian, first. I was not happy with the sign and I want it removed. But I do not work in government. Besides, I wasn't in any capacity to do it. I wasn't in any position where I could counsel or pressure another Nigerian to do it. So, meeting Dr. Alimole was the closest I could go to talking to the President of Nigeria or the Minister in charge of our External Affairs about the sign and its removal. In spite of the lively atmosphere at the party, I was not willing to watch and allow the rare opportunity at the Consulate to fly by without taking action. Even if I had to embarrass a distinguished diplomat to accomplish my, it is a risk worth taking.  That's exactly what I did - made use of someone else who was in a position to act. It doesn't matter whether he actually perform; the truth is that I made an effort to have it removed. Not just saying the sign ought to be removed, but coming up with ideas (talking points or what to say before the appropriate US Officials), and giving directives on how it should be executed (starting from our Custom and Immigration Departments in Nigeria - the point of entry). That is my definition of leadership.

The American government is ever willing to support you and your cause, if you do the right thing, or making effort to do the right thing. I know that much, about America. So, I initiated the actions, which Dr. Alimole, in his official position, patriotically executed, without questioning my age, qualification, or experience in government and diplomacy. And that, once again, is my definition of leadership.

Watch out for Part Three, Four, and Five.