The Obama Example: Isn’t Reading Elevating?

A mild ringing escaped my handset. I looked at its face. Victor Ejike Nwolisa’s name appeared. He was calling. I didn’t know if I was up to him that morning. For a few seconds, I felt like letting it ring to its death but I changed my mind. Ejike never gives up easily. If charcoal is black, being resilient defines him quite well. Ejike also doesn’t mind being in the eye of a twister because he has the capacity to wade through it. I have known Ejike since meeting him around Ekpo Refectory, University of Nigeria, Nsukka Campus in the early nineties. We had both gained admission to study economics. Being classmates didn’t mean we competed against each other. We didn’t. The friendship we struck up in school has remained alive and it’s continuously growing. We have remained true to the main cardinal rule of friendship – staying loyal. Not to each other but to the friendship. I chose to pick.

‘Ejike, how’re you?’ I asked.

‘I am brilliant,’ he answered. He is. ‘Like to discuss something with you…well, it’s nothing but your write-up in Businessday just so you don’t set the panic button on,’ he threw in a few seconds later. I could hear the sound of someone chortling in the background.

‘What about it?’ I asked. Calm covered me.

‘There’s more,’ he informed. ‘There’s more we can add to that piece.’

‘I’d appreciate you’re a bit specific.’

‘You and some of your buddies had a talk on the dying reading culture in today’s youths,’ he informed. ‘I honestly think more can be said or written on it.’

‘I am all ears, Ejike.’

‘No, I am wondering if we can do lunch today. So, we can talk it over some Africana.’

‘On your bill?’

‘Not a problem,’ he answered. We laughed. ‘See you at two – two for two.’

‘Let’s make it for four, please,’ I countered. ‘Not too comfortable with a very hot, blazing sun.’

‘Ok, circle the time on your schedules for today,’ he said. Moments later, he hung up.

The day sailed on. I had a number of tasks to get behind. In between tasks and deliverables, several thoughts flashed through the alleyway of my mind. One in particular was on Ejike. I recalled his love for politics. In the University, we walked in the same street on most political issues. He had (still does have) very strong and deep views on politics. Ejike would love more for the country. His belief in the nation’s destiny is near absolute. In many ways, I thought I might urge him to throw his hat in the ring. 2015 is around the bend. But you know the common rules don’t work here. It’s Nigeria.

It wasn’t long before it was four in the evening. Work could be clouding for I didn’t realise it was time for a free-meal date with a dependable pal. I ambled my way down the staircase. At the bottom was Ejike standing and staring at a lady-colleague.

‘Want your wife to know about this?’ I asked. Mischief stretched my face, leaving a grin.

‘Don’t play games anymore…. they all stopped when I scribbled on the dotted lines.’

‘Good,’ I commended. ‘So, look less…. when looking goes beyond limits, you may want to feed one of the five senses.’

‘Which?’ he asked. I maintained some quiet. ‘Touching or rather feeling?’ he threw at me.

‘You said it. Not me.’

We pumped hands and walked down the chop-house at the bottom of the street.

‘I like the issue you and your buddies raised on reading in that piece,’ he commended, seconds after we had been served bowls of pounded yam and melon soup. ‘But there’s something more to add.’

‘Waiting, you know… been waiting since we spoke earlier,’ I urged, swallowing a mouthful of pounded yam.