An Ode to Bishop Eunice Osagiede

It came by accident. I was robbed. And in the process of seeking revenge, I found myself contending with expulsion. Three petitions were filed against me - the University Registrar, the Director of Student Affairs, and the Dean of the Law Faculty. The hearings were on a Friday, Monday, and Wednesday. My mind told me to go to the village to discuss with my sister. But my heart said no. And to Benin City, I went to meet with my cousin, Sunny. He attends a white garment church somewhere on Ewa Road in Benin City. And he is a good match for the job.

I got to Benin City on time. And Sunny was home from work when I arrived. I repeated myself over and over again about what happened. And he assured me that all will be well, and his Pastor will take care of me and my problem. We arranged to meet with the Pastor the next day at about 6 p.m. He promised to pick me up at about 5  p.m.

In the afternoon on the day of the arranged meeting, Bendel Television or Edo Television was doing its weekly telecast of a two-hour paid religious program, featuring about four different pastors. Each of them has 30 minutes. I was watching without following. My mind was far, reminiscing on the sacrifice I made accepting the admission to study law at Ekpoma instead of travelling to London, England.  

As my mind was wandering aimlessly, a gorgeous lady appeared on the screen. She was the third pastor to preach. I have never seen her before on TV or heard about her. Her name was Eunice Osagiede. For the first five minutes, I kept on asking myself,  what is this pretty lady doing on the pulpit, "I beg go and set a beauty salon and leave the preaching job for men," I whispered out loud. (God forgive me). And I kept on flipping through the pages of my huge Guardian newspaper, not concentrating on any story. Then, like a bolt from the blue, the Preacher hit a high note, and I stood up transfixed and motionless. 

She said two things that changed my life forever. It was as if they sent her to talk to me that very moment. She said Why do you have to patronise Pastors or Men of God who prophesize about what is troubling you. What is the difference between going to a Pastor to tell you your problems and going to a traditional native doctor to play oracle for you? The only difference, if at all, is in the process. One is holding the Bible, and the other is throwing cowries on the bare floor while they prophesy.  If you cannot patronise the native doctor, why would you patronise the other? 

Hearing that, I went to the refrigerator to grab a Coke and sat down. She was not done yet.  She said this is what you have to do - talk to God by yourself. You don't need me, and you don't need anybody to talk to God for you or to pray for you. The pastor doesn't know your problems. I don't know your problem. I can only guide you on how to pray, how to study your Bible, and how to connect with God. That's my responsibility as a Pastor. To teach the gospel and bring you to Christ. All that is required of you is to go into your room, lock your door if you have to, and cry to God. Tell Him your problem and leave the rest to Him. You can do it. The power is in your mind and your mouth. Use them.

When she was done, I ran to the room, grabbed my briefcase, and ran down the staircase. I went straight to my cousin's workshop to tell him I saw an angel. The moment cousin Sunny saw him, he looked at his watch. I said you don't have to look at your watch. I have changed my mind. I am going back to school right now. He asked in amazement, Why? Did Uncle Spaco talk to you? I replied no. There is something I have to do in school this evening. He pleaded with me to be patient and go with him. I insisted on going back to school. Eventually, he relented and gave me some money for my transport back to school.

I got to Ekpoma on time and went straight to the Library to take care of the missed lectures. As nightfall approached, I left the campus and went home. I sat down, closed my eyes, to watched the video of the Pastor over and over again. I knelt down and prayed my heart out. That was my first time praying alone and for myself. Apart from the prayers in churches, I have never done anything like that before. 

My first case was before the Registrar of the University. I've met the Registrar twice. The first time was when I was at 100L. I went to his office to process the transcript for my cousin, Mr. A.O. The second time was when he packed his car at the University Pavilion after school and gave about three of us a ride home in his car. I remember sitting with him in the back seat. Will he remember any of these past meetings? My mind was beating hard as his Secretary ushered me into his office. And told him why I am here.

He asked me, Do you know why you are here. As I was trying to explain myself, he cut me shut. Adding, do you know the charges against you? I said, No, sir. He said the petition against you is that you went to the house of another student with cult members to harass them because you accused him of stealing your shirt. And he continued, first of all, falsely accusing another student of a crime is a crime itself. Two, belonging to a cult is not acceptable in this university, and three, going to another student's house to intimidate him is not allowed in this school. 

Which of them did you pledge to? None, sir. Seriously, none, sir. Did you go to his house with your members? In my mind, I kept on saying, God, why can't this man believe that I am not a cult member. Sir, I did not go to his with members of anything. When I was going to his house, two students in the same complex as me, one a 200L law student and the other a 400L Engineering student. They accompanied me for my safety. He asked the students who accompanied you, Are your flatmates? I said, Yes, sir. Why did you go to his house? To plead with him to reveal to me how he got the shirt. I knew he didn't participate in the breaking into my room, but to tell me who sold the shirt to him. Was there a fight? No, sir. 

As I look on, he grabbed the petition, squizzed it with his right palm, and dumped it in the waste paper basket. He said Get out of here, The people I asked to look into your case said exactly the same thing you said. And I left, thanking my God.

The next day was Dr. Edopkayi, the Director of Student Affairs. I met this guy twice. The first time was when I went to collect my Bursary. The moment I entered his office, he said, "You don't need a bursary." I said, I do. Sir, I am from Edo State, and I am Ishan. He said, Stop, stop. Of course, I know you are from Edo State, but what I mean is that the student who wears the most expensive suit on campus doesn't need a bursary. Hearing that, I smiled. He handed me my money, and I left his office. How did he know me or my suits? I couldn't figure it out. 

The second time I met him was not directly. It was around the Faculty of Sciences. He was with two security personnel. And I was behind them. Then, I saw him accost this student in front of him. He greeted the student and asked him Are you a student here? The guy replied, Yes. And what is the name of your Faculty? The student replied, Faculty of Arts and Social Sciences. Wrong answer. What Faculty did you say? The Director asked again. The student said, Faculty of Arts and Social Sciences, the second time. And that was it. 

The Director called the two security guys to apprehend the boy. At Bendel State  University, there is no Faculty of Arts and Social Sciences, like most other universities. What we have is the Faculty of Arts. Period. And it is separate and different from the Faculty of Social Science.  The man who was able to identify a non-student in a crowd. The man who told me about a year ago that the guy who wears the most expensive suit on campus doesn't need a bursary. So, that is Dr. Edokpayi, the Director of Student Affairs, I am meeting next.

I was ushered into his office at the exact time slated for the hearing. As he walked in, he was already holding the petition. He looked at me and shouted, No, it can't be you. Mr. Aidaghese, what are you doing here? I looked on, not knowing what to say. Mr. Aidaghese, he repeated again, you, of all people, on this campus, belong to a cult, and I don't know about it, that means I've failed in my duty as the Director of Student Affairs in this University. At last, I summoned the courage to talk. I said, Good afternoon, sir. You did not fail in your duty as the Director of Student Affairs, because I do not belong to any cult, and I did not go to the petitioner's house with cult members. My cousin and another student in the same house as me accompanied me to the Petitioner's house for my safety. That was it, not to harass or fight. 

He asked if I was aware that the entire family had moved out of the house. I replied, no. Adding that I met the Mom at the Police Station a few days ago. As I was still talking, he was already squeezing the petition. He asked if I had met with the Registrar. I told him yes, and he dismissed the petition. He said, Okay, the case is over. You are free to go. 

I got home and prayed again and again as the Pasto said. The Dean of the Law Faculty, Professor Aihe, is an Ekpoma man. The Faculty Officer, who is like the Chief of Staff of the Faculty, is also an Ekpoma indigene, and I was scared. I drove away a whole Ekpoma family from their own home, using cult members. Not a small crime. 

As I walked into the Faculty office, the dude was already there. A 200L Law Student. They told us that the Faculty Officer will hear the case. He is an elderly guy and highly feared in the Faculty.  They took us in, and he was ready to hear the case. The guy was the first to speak. His story was that I accosted him at the Law Library and told him that the shirt he was wearing was mine. And I came to his house twice to harass him and eventually had his younger brother arrested. And they are no longer staying in their house. 

His case was brief and brutal. The Faculty Officer looked at me and asked Do you understand the weight of the allegation against you? I replied, Yes, sir. Okay, go ahead and tell me your side of the story. 

First of all, I do not belong to any cult. Two, yes, I went to his house twice, but not with cult members. The first time, I went to a fellow law student, whose name is Oziegbe. The second time, my cousin, also a law student, and another flatmate, an Engineering student, accompanied me for my safety. There was no quarrel, but there was fighting. He said that it is the second part of the case. What about the shirt and the accusation? Go ahead and tell me exactly how it started.

I was away for the holidays, and my room was broken into through the window. They took my mattress, all my clothes, and my briefcase containing my school fees. My briefcase is exactly the same make as the one the Dean of the Law Faculty uses. I bought mine at Balogun market in Lagos. And here is the receipt. So, when I saw him with my shirt, I told him politely that the shirt he was wearing was mine. I told him upfront that I am not accusing him of stealing the shirt. All I am asking of him is to tell me who sold the shirt to him so that I can get my school fees and briefcase back from them. 

Then, he told me that the shirt belongs to his younger brother, who is a student in the Arts Faculty. He gave me his house address and told me to meet him that evening. I got there with a classmate whose house was broken into in the same way. But his younger brother was not home. I went there the next day, and I met with his brother. I pleaded with him as well to tell me how he got the shirt, but he maintains that the shirt belongs to him. The next day, I went to the Police station to file a complaint, and the younger brother was arrested. I did not accompany the Police to their house during the arrest. 

That's it? Yes, sir. I responded. He said, This suit that I am wearing, I bought it ten years ago. If you place it among the other hundred black suits, I can easily pick it out. Be that as it may, it doesn't give me the right to take the law into my own hands or the audacity to invade the accused's private residence and force them out of the house with cult members. Do you understand that, Mr. Aidaghese? And I replied Yes, sir. He said Okay, I will brief the Dean about my findings, and he has the final say. You guys can go.

And we walked out of his office. As we were passing through the Secretary's office, her phone rang and she answered. Then she called out, Mr. Aidaghese, Oga wants to see you. I said we've just finished with him. She said he wants you back right away. I took a deep breath and I knocked and walked in. As I closed the door behind me, he said Sit down, my son. Hearing the word "my son," tears dropped down my face. He said Wipe away your tears and be comfortable. 

Then, he began. I have been on this Faculty from day one, and I have seen students come and go. If not for this case, there is no way the Dean or I would have known that a child like you went through this Faculty. The only students we put our eyes on are those who are likely to be problematic. I believe everything you said. I believe the shirt is yours. And I believe you didn't go to his house with cult members. 

This is what I want you to do right now, as you are leaving this office. I want you to go straight to the Police Station and tell them that you are dropping the case. I don't want you to fail, and I don't want you to miss a class because of this case. Do you understand that? I replied, Yes, sir. He asked, Do you have enough white shirts and ties to wear to class, I said, Yes, sir. One of my classmates gave me five long-sleeved shirts and three ties. Who is that? You must have rich friends in your class. For the first time, I saw him smile. I replied, Mr. Lateef Ajayi. What about black suits? I have one left, I replied. He said you can wear any suit or long-sleeved shirt to class until further notice. The case is over, and I will brief the Dean. As said, go straight to the Police Station and drop the case. I bowed my head and thanked him. 

As I walked out of the Faculty office, the Petitioner and two ladies were waiting for me outside, not knowing that the case was over. One of the ladies is a lecturer in one of the departments of Science, and she is the elder sister of the accused. She told me, You think you are a tough guy, I will use everything I have to make sure you are kicked out of this school. I paused and looked at her and said: I have no godfather, God is my Godfather. And I went to the Police station as instructed by the Faculty Officer to withdraw the case. The Police declined, arguing it is a criminal case and it is between the State and the accused. I told them that very well, but I am no longer interested. And I went back to school.

A few months after the case was over, I bumped into the Petitioner's younger brother, the English student who voluntarily agreed to pay for the crime and suffered in detention. We greeted each other, and I told him that I knew he was not the owner of the shirt, but his brother. He said, Well, it's one of those things. Then I asked about his Mom. He told me that his Mom died a few weeks ago after a brief illness. Hearing that was a real shock to me. I told him that his Mom reminded me of my Mom. The last time we met at the Police Station, he pleaded with me to drop the case, but I couldn't understand why you wanted to cover up for your brother. He didn't say much, we shook hands and parted ways.

About a week later, it was her big sister, the Lecturer. I have never seen a lady as beautiful as that woman. It was just the two of us. As she walked towards me, it was as if she didn't see me. And I pretended I did not see her, too. We did say a word to each other. After a few steps behind me, I didn't hear the sound of her shoes again on the ground. Then, I stopped and looked back, and I saw her looking back as well. She is older than me and she is a lecturer. I must give her respect. 

I walked back to meet her and said, Good morning, Madam. And she was staring at me, not saying a word. I said, You are a very special person, and I don't like having trouble with people like you. Let me, it is let's have a drink instead of going to the Police Station every day, wasting our time. As I continued to talk, she interjected, asking, Who are you? Somehow astonished by her question, I said It seems you have forgotten me. I am Alex Aidaghese. She said Stop it, of course, I know you are Alex Aidaghese. Who are you, she asked again. Feeling relaxed, I said, Okay, I remember telling you the last time we met at the Law Faculty that I have no godfather and that God is my Godfather.  

She said, Yes, I remember that. Still staring at me, she said, my younger brother told me that the two of you met a few days ago and how you felt when he told you about the death of my Mom. And I said, yes, the news of her death troubles me greatly. Adding, I would have attended her funeral if I had known beforehand. She said she trusts I would have done. She then went ahead to apologise for not advising her brother (the Law student) to be forthcoming with me about how he got the shirt. Before she left, she asked about how I handle the petition. I told her God did. She said, Be serious, what exactly did you do. I said I am serious, I just prayed and told God to handle it for me.  And he did. She said I believe you, there is nothing He can't do.

What actually happened was that the 200L Law student whom I saw with the shirt was already holding a position in the Law Student Association. Knowing the precarious position that he was in if arrested for or prosecuted for having stolen goods, he decided to approach his immediate younger brother, who was 300L English student at the time, to claim ownership. His brother did and paid for it, spending about two weeks in Police custody. 

But God has a unique way of dispensing judgment. The law student failed the final and repeated 200L. That was not all, his class was the last before the National University Commission increased the LLB degree program to five years before graduating to the Nigerian Law School. So, when he repeated 200L, he automatically became a classmate of the first class of the five-year program. Meaning, all things being equal, he will be spending six years for his LL.B program before proceeding to the Nigerian Law School for an additional one year. 

Anyway, when I was cleared by the Registrar, the Director of Student Affairs, and the Faculty Officer of the Law Faculty, I travelled to Benin City to attend the Church of the Super Preacher who saved me. When I got to Benin, I asked around about her and her church, and my family friends in GRA Benin City told me that it is more like a women's ministry, and they don't have a building yet.

My plan was to tell this story as a testimony in her church one day when I am back in Nigeria, but I waited too long. She not only saved me, but she also taught me how to pray and believe in the power of prayer. When I reminisce on the journey so far, surviving the temptations and the victory over satanic forces and enemies of progress, I can only thank the Beautiful Lady Pastor who introduced me to  God in the true sense of it and made me believe that I can talk to God and He is a Merciful God. May her soul rest in peace.