WHERE ARE THE CLASS WONDERS?

Have you ever wondered why some people start out so well but somehow don’t manage to do as well as everyone expected. There are people who seem to have it all together but somehow things don’t quite work out as expected. I’m referring to the kind of classmate who answered all the questions in class; he would even engage the lecturers in a debate and sometimes win. I’m talking of the one the teacher would call to answer the question when the rest of the class have made fools of themselves. Those ones with the neat and up-to-date class notes that the teacher would tell others to copy from. Where are they, post college?

I had a few of those ones as classmates in the university. There was one particular person who we all saw as the next Rotimi the Law. He was brilliant. He could quote cases from all over the world. In our first year, he seemed to be hurrying the lecturers up; sometimes he would ask a question or make reference to something that would sound like Greek to the rest of us, and the lecturer would tell him that what he was asking about would be handled in a course in our final year. I used to wonder all the time where he got the knowledge from. I liked his brilliance because it challenged me and a few others in my class to study more. I was quite shocked when I was told that he failed two courses in our second year. It was quite unbelievable. How could The Law fail a Law course? It got so bad that he did not even graduate with us. What could have happened?

There was another of my classmates that was quite enterprising. He used to gather class notes, add information from text books and garnish it with cases. He would print them as handbooks and some of our classmates would buy. He was a bit older than most of us and the rumour was that he had worked in a court as a very junior officer. I expected that after graduation, he would become a power to be reckoned with either in the judiciary or as a lecturer. Last I heard, he had gone back to take up an administrative position in a high court in his local government area.

Another faculty sensation was Biggie, named for his body mass. He was obviously from a rich family and seemed to have everything going for him. He was a brilliant student and he never lacked cash. Some of us befriended him just because he was a spender. He used to travel abroad for his vacation at the end of every session.  They said his father was a big time business man and I believed it. He was the first son of his parents and he was quite smart so it seemed obvious that in due course, he would take over the helms of affairs in his father’s successful company.  Well, as at the last time I heard about Biggie, he was working in a law chambers that he co-owns; a one room legal chambers. I was told that his father sold off his company about two decades ago because it was no longer doing well.

I tell these stories with a lot of humility and introspection, and again I ask, why do some people start so well but fall short of what seemed to be their place in society? Why is it that the ones who were the poor cousins are now the rich uncles? How is it that the ones who schooled abroad are pushing papers in small Nigerian offices while the ones who scrimped and saved to get through university are going abroad to take up high-paying jobs?

Everything really boils down to how badly we want something and whether or not we can push to have it. There are people who grew up in financially privileged homes and they are doing very well. I know quite a few and I also know that they had to work hard to get to where they are. A mentality of entitlement – expecting all good things to naturally come your way even without you lifting a finger does not go hand-in-hand with greatness. For greatness, you have to put in hard work. You have to be ready to do more than the thousand other persons who are qualified to take the position you covet. The distance between where you are and where you should and could be is measured by diligence, focus, creativity and the sacrifices you are willing to make.

If you can get the insight in this message, please pass the knowledge to your children and your mentees. It is time to fight for what you want.

Till next time, stay motivated.

Fatherhood with Ibe

Airport Lounge Cinemas

The waiting lounges of most airports are like cinema theatres where all forms of dramas are acted out and funny behaviours are displayed. Sometimes, it’s caused by the excitement of travelling; the children jump around and try to provide their own entertainment. The adults are either exuberant or quite introspective; as if holding their breath until they get into the aircraft. It gets worse when the flight is delayed.  Some of the children throw all sorts of tantrums and even adults are often not too different; they work off their frustration in the most childish ways, cursing, shouting and even getting into fights.

Some weeks ago, while waiting for a flight to the UK, I watched a dramatic scene unfold at the VIP lounge of the airport terminal. There were already a handful of persons there and it seemed that some people may have been waiting there for a while. Every few minutes someone would berate the airline or demand an explanation for the delay, another would lament about the sorry state of one thing or the other in the country. I always try to keep a low profile in these places; I stick my nose into a journal or my phone; because once fellow passengers discover that there’s someone remotely connected to the government, they try to vent all their frustrations on the person because, of course, the government is to be blamed for everything.

This particular day, a woman was getting really agitated because her baby was fretful. It was obvious that she’d been crying for a while and one or two women had suggested what she could do to quieten the child but none seemed to be working. One of the workers at the lounge came to offer some help; she took the baby from the mother who seemed glad for the help but the baby screamed more and reached for her mother aggressively. Truly, the wails were just getting a bit too much and the mother seemed totally flustered.

Suddenly, one male voice came from behind me in total frustration.

“Madam, I hope this noise will not follow us into the aircraft. I can’t take this anymore.” He said.

It was just one of those moments that you know that the person has spoken the truth but you wish he had been a little more diplomatic or sensitive.

“It’s a commercial flight Sir, not your private jet and the baby is a passenger just like you.” The woman replied testily.

“She’s just a baby, Sir and she’s crying, not making noise.” Another woman chimed in.  Some two other women, in solidarity, told off the man and tried to explain that perhaps the child was sick or was teething.

“Don’t mind him jare. It’s obvious that he’s one of those men that think a baby should be seen, not heard. I should know; I live with one.” One of the women added, starting another little seminar about men who leave the entire business of childcare to their wives. There was a man sitting quietly beside the woman, I wondered if he was the man she was maligning and frankly, my sympathy silently went out to him.

As the people were talking, the baby screamed the more.

A little girl walked up to the mother and her screaming child.

“Baby, stop crying.” She said gently, touching the child. “Where is her mummy?” The little girl asked the flustered mother.

“I am her mummy.” The woman replied

“So why is she still crying? I have a little sister and if she’s crying, immediately my mummy carries her, she stops crying.” The girl said.

“Amanda, come back here!” A woman called and the little girl obediently ran to her.

“Wait a minute!” The man who had spoken earlier picked up. “This little girl might be correct. How do we know that this woman is the mother of the baby? Madam, I don’t believe the child is yours. You are one of those women that come here, steal a child and run abroad. Officer!” He started calling some of the airline officials.

The woman was protesting that the baby was hers.

What started so simply seemed to have taken a massive turn in minutes.  All too soon, the woman and her baby were led away, chaperoned of course by the man who started the uproar. The women who had risen so valiantly to support their compatriot earlier started confessing that they’d had their suspicion but didn’t want to say anything. Some declared that the baby looked nothing like the ‘mother’ and said she was acting cagey.

About 15 minutes later, we were invited to board our flight. I didn’t see the woman and her baby among the passengers. Perhaps she was waiting for a different flight, perhaps there was merit in the accusation about the baby being stolen, I could never tell. It was just another airport lounge drama and all too soon, another set of actors would take the stage.

So long!