After graduating from Emodu Ogugu Community Secondary School in Kogi State, I moved to Port Harcourt and joined Intelligent Group of Schools, Rumuokwuta. We fondly called it “Intelligent College.” It was just like my previous school, except that one was in the village, while the other was a township school. My uncle, Amb. Jonas Onoja, in his usual kindness, enrolled me there because I needed a brush-up. My previous school had left me half-baked, which was evident in my speech and behavior.
At Intelligent College, I met Chidi. At first, I thought he was a corps member because of his intelligence and punctuality, but he was actually a diploma student hoping for Direct Entry admission into the university. He was our Literature Master, and he truly mastered everything literature. His knowledge and teaching skills surpassed those of many certified teachers.
Chidi often told us about campus life—the good, the bad, and the ugly. We would listen with rapt attention, our mouths open in amazement. During our JAMB lessons, he encouraged us to work hard, assuring us that university life was worth the effort. We all admired him and wished to be like him.
Eventually, we parted ways. Chidi was too brilliant to be denied admission, so we all believed he would get into the university through Direct Entry and graduate before us.
Two years later, I gained admission. It took me six more years to graduate and get mobilized for the National Youth Service Corps (NYSC). It was a long journey, but destiny has its own way of unfolding.
During my NYSC, I visited the orientation camp at Ini Atai LGA to check on a friend who had just been mobilized with the third batch. That was when I saw something unexpected—Chidi, dressed in the all-white NYSC uniform, standing on the parade ground. He had just been mobilized.
I couldn’t wait to hear his story—what had delayed him, what had happened along the way. When we finally spoke, all he said was, “Onoja, thank God I’m finally here. The rest is a long story.”
Back in college, Chidi had told me about campus life and its fantasies. Now, it was my turn to tell him about NYSC—the reality behind the experience, the pitfalls to avoid. He listened, his mouth open in surprise, just as we had once done when he spoke about university life.
So many unforeseen things must have happened in his journey. Life is simply like that. I entered the university before him, finished earlier, and completed my NYSC ahead of him. Yet, he had been my teacher.
Who, then, was to tell the other about family life? Who would help the other secure a job or promotion? Is life really about who gets there first? Must we compete when we don’t know what tomorrow holds or how differently our destinies are designed? I pondered these questions as we parted ways.
Years later, I ran into Chidi again—this time in Wuse 2, Abuja, along Ademola Adetokunbo Way. He was in the company of well-dressed young men and had become a “big man.” He told me he had done his NYSC with ExxonMobil, was retained, and was now married. He even owned a Toyota Camry Spider.
And here I was, still searching for a better job.
Life has a way of humbling us. We often find ourselves in an unspoken competition, unaware that “…the race is not to the swift, nor the battle to the strong, neither yet bread to the wise, nor yet riches to men of understanding, nor yet favor to men of skill; but time and chance happeneth to them all.”
Providence places some people ahead of us—sometimes permanently, sometimes temporarily. The key is to embrace every stage of our journey, knowing that our destinies are uniquely designed.
Outfit: Steve Brayn
Culled from Facebook
