The KT OLLA Web Stories

JOSHUA Morrow saw what his foster kids did, and it hurt him a lot. He had thought he’d got children in his nephews and nieces, so he had loved them. But there they were drawing the line. It was thin line, yet thick. But then Bamiji went on raising them all. Only, he knew whose children they were. They weren’t his. So, when the males among Dekomi’s kids drew thick lines between them and their uncle, Bamiji felt so betrayed. It was payback that hit home. But God was planning good. No, this thing wrecked Joshua to pieces. He faced himself and saw failure. Those children were like the home he was building. And now they were crumbling like sand castles. No, he didn’t see future... just failure. For the first time in plenty years, the fact that Banji had nobody fazed him hard. But he knew nothing about God. That He could bring something out of nothing... like He alone can do. So, Banji sank several times in the squalors of that moment. He felt sad, lonely. So he drank even more and smoked. H...

EVERYTHING that happened and made Banji take on Abraham’s kids – everything was within earshot. Dekomi’s earshot. Well, Dekomi was gone and his oldest one was there. He caught on fast. The gentleman knew the cold rebuff that was served his mama. It hurt him more to watch her try. He hated that his mother liked his uncle. Then he hated that Banji didn’t look her way. He wanted him to respond, be her new man. No, stand up as their old man and care for them. Or better, not snub her mama like that. Well, he hadn’t wished that the man was their father. But then again he asked, ‘What if...?’ Then, Banji took them up and ensured they rose high. The first son was about 30 years. So he sent him to university. The younger one had written their surname in the way his uncle spelt it. He did that during grammar school. Yes, he had looked up to his uncle like to his own father. But now, he thought about this mess and hated everything. So, for his mother’s sake, he hated the man. He hated the fact th...

BAMIJI toiled on and reaped. He was made Vice of high school principal. But it was briefly. Still, life wanted him first. Well, the regional government happened to establish more schools, and Banji was made to start those schools. So, Mr Morrow was transferred away from home to start new modern schools then. They were junior and senior secondary. He worked for the olden state government of Ọyọ, which owned quite a wider scape then. It, in fact, had within it a widespread district then, called Ọshun. It was where he called home, and he was carried around that place. Now Bamiji settled in Ede of Oshun, a township so vast it could make a city. Then, he travelled to work in towns. Yes, he founded the high schools in those towns as Principal... their first principal, too. He built structures, enrol’ kids, planted trees... The seed outlived him. So then, Morrow got transferred from place to place. For when his seedlings showed promise, the planter was sought to help plant more schools. So, h...

NOW Banji moved to Ede and got transferred at work to that town. He was 50 at that time when Abraham died and he went home. Then time crawled from 1975 – 9. In those passing years, people grew a little more, and youngsters matured. The many children of Abraham grew in their 30, 20s and teen... And Bamiji grew into a father, the father of them all. Now among Banji’s precious things had been that wooden piece he got himself several years before. His piano. The man had given a thought on how best to move that chunk home, but he hadn’t found a way. He’d got a new car – those old days when the teaching career paid well. Then he changed it after an accident. Now all he’d got to move precious things were his saloon car, and a pickup. (The lorries then carried logs.) So then, Banji sold off that treasure, his piano. The thing was “heavy duty”— quote ’n’ unquote . Then he moved back home. The man took up new responsibility. He put his brother’s kids through schooling, paying through their educ...

NOW the group agreed like they’d got no issue with the whole thing. Like they were on the same page. But no, they’d got other plans. And that Plan B was the real trouble. Already, Joshua was the head of Morrow’s household, and nobody could force him against his own will. But Bepo wasn’t anybody. The widowed one mattered. Yes, the fierce beauty had got the whole womenfolk behind her. Sassy ladies from town and everywhere. She’d got friends in town and the village, and they were there for her cause that day. The households were seated, too. Truly, Bepo had been faithful with her husband through their married years. But she felt the space he’d filled when he died. Now she wouldn’t mind having this elite man here. Or no, she even dared to. Well, Bepo had admired Joshua since she joined their great household. She’d watched him go through school, and knew nothing about that life. Jo was tall, dark and handsome. He was every girl’s talk playing out of earshot. He was fantasy quite so far up i...

BAMIJI smiled. ‘Jonah, we are grown men. If anything, I should have got kids their age—.’ He pointed at the students loitering close. ‘So, what more do you think someone my age hasn’t done to prepare ahead? I told you there’s nothing new under heaven!’ Jonah answered simply. ‘You can hand your whole life over to Jesus. ‘You can let Jesus steer your wheels. He knows the way too well, so you will arrive at your goals. ‘He is called Beginning and the End, meaning He’s the A and Z of everything. ‘He knows the end of every trip. And just Him can steer you home!’ Now those words fell on Joshua’s ears as they flowed. He was going to ponder on them and let them thrive. But like winds on desert blades, the words drifted away too quickly. They sounded like some echo in the wind. By then, the students whom the men set out to watch were being scolded by a different teacher.  Morrow saw it and he went even more upset. Even things he’d got no issue with, upset him. He talked up. ‘Jonah, you know...

MR Jonah glanced at his colleague and could tell he wasn’t cross with him. If Mr Morrow felt upset with my question, he wouldn’t have answered me. But since he went talking something else, and stopped now to listen, then he must’ve given it a thought. With this, Jonah took on the talk and hit the nail. ‘It is life as you say—not school life or work life. ‘But that life has yesterday, today, and tomorrow. So how do we face Tomorrow? ‘Maybe I’m asking you since your name means the Future. But how do you face Future, sir?’ Those words hit Morrow and he couldn’t stay upset. He looked away and sighed. But then Jonah brought hope. ‘Mister Jo,’ he called. ‘There is a way to beat life’s troubles whichever way they present themselves. ‘I did Biology education at teachers’ college, you know. And there’s this thing called being immune via vaccine. ‘Well, before the Westerners brought vaccines here, we’ve developed immunity to several airborne diseases. ‘So, we don’t ever come down with flu when w...

BANJI hadn’t thought much about future. Everything life to him had always been about getting education and a good pay job. Well, he’d repaid his school loan then, so he added a life quote: Neither a borrower nor a lender be. He owed no man thenceforth. Yet now, the man took care of his family. He sent money to cater for his siblings. They’d given up school just for him, so he felt responsible for them. So, life to this school master was ‘present tense’—not a future tense or thought. He answered Jonah. ‘Life is full of hurdles, yeah – but there ain’t surprises: “ there’s nothing new under the sun.” ‘Now you can’t compare what we have ahead in time to what’s in front of our eyes. ‘I mean, why will you compare future time with students playing here? Or even this exam period? ‘We’re talking life, Jonah. Not school life!’ Right then he dipped a hand in his pocket and took out a cigarette stick and lighter: ‘Now talk about life!’ Jonah replied him. ‘It’s about Jesus. Want to tell you the Way...

A SCHOOL bell rang aloud in the boiling heat of noon. It was dry season that year and everyone could feel the heat... Except for the students who littered the widespread field of this school. It was the end of lunch break, and that call made those kids return for class. It was the week before Joshua got his home call. The week before he went back home. Morrow sat in the staff office and went through papers at his desk. He was still head teacher for arts classes then, and was anticipating being made school head. A vice principal, for starts. Jo had just finished vetting questions for the students’ term papers in language, literature and religion. So he glanced up at a nearing voice. ‘Done with yours, Mister Jo?’ It was a teacher friend walking up to his desk. He called him Jo... Mister Jo. Banji looked up. ‘Yeah, Jonah.’ He called the younger man by name. That friend of his was from the science department. He quipped. ‘Lucky you, I’m still stuck with the theory. I’ll cross-check practic...

NOW Morrow gained entry to a new federal college, sited temporarily in the city of Ibadan. The new outfit was first patterned after the University College, Ibadan, which was built in the 50’s by British rule. Yet this new one like the premier University College, started in the wake of the country’s independence... some two years after that history. Now it was built in 1962, then run as an affiliate college. And though affiliated with the University of London on its first graduate certificates, it had changed its state and status in 6 years. In the Year ’66, Joshua Morrow gained admission into the new college at its temporary site in Ibadan, the largest city in West Africa. Robed in a matriculation gown, he took a still photograph to commemorate his time. He wore a one-piece suit (and shirt) that seemed like some deep tone from the monochrome photo... He had a deep-coloured tie too, with a thin highlight of white. It was a simple style line from knot to silver clip. He wore a wry smile,...

JO Morrow was done with the Grade-II thing, so he took the teaching line. He just wanted to stay quiet and earn. So he got a teaching job with the government, and then left home. Joshua knew too well that he’d got little or no share in his father’s farm. As anyone should dub him ‘heartless’ if he struggled with his brother. But it wasn’t that Dekomi could do farm work. But he’d got a proper town to feed, for he raised eight children...  So, the Abrahams must own the farms. Therefore Dekomi moved his whole household from town to the village. And there he managed the farm lot. Bamiji left home and all that was there, and taught school. It was the last years of colonists and Mr J. Morrow was made Village Headmaster by the foreign rule. It was in a district of Ibadan. But then the times changed as 1960 came—a colony became a country; Nigeria, a sovereign nation. It was 1960. Then that year before it ran out, schools were re-named ‘Modern Schools’. And even that year Joshua moved upward...

NOW weeks passed, then months; but Joshua wasn’t over the grief.  He emptied bottles at bars, then staggered home wasted. He dropped in gutters and bathrooms, and spewed all dirt. Then he promised Oki to stop. He’d stop for mama’s sake. But Banji tried everything and just couldn’t stop. He sniffed things and got hooked.  Then he picked cigar, thinking it could distract him awhile. He wanted to do anything, except beer. Now he went for cigarettes, then a smoke became packets, and from packets a few brands. Joshua was stuck in quicksand, faster in fact than quicksand does you. And even Scout rules failed him—for nothing holds feet there. Now his sorrows soon got numbed, so he pushed on. Meanwhile his kid sisters had become women, so Banji gave their hands in marriage. One of their suitors wasn’t of the same faith as Morrow’s family. But he was affluent, so Banji liked him. He cared little about faith in marriage. The thing looked like mere rules to him. ‘That’s religion,’ he wo...

IT was 1956 and a time in the year when seasons twist and turn. It had rained for several months, and fields had grown. Then rain stopped as the heat returned. And then the heat dropped and poured rain. It was forth... then back-and-forth. Yes, the rains that poured went in days; and suddenly Earth was cold. So cold that bodies broke. It was post-harmattan in ’56. Well, the cold wasn’t the issue; but the uncertainty was. This struggle between passing cold and the coming heat... no, it went so tense any tough skin would break. Yet that year it wasn’t just anybody that broke down – but Morrow, as his ageing body failed. Morrow went completely under the weather as he caught cold. It wasn’t meant to be serious at all, as it was just the weather—or so, his wife had reasoned. Yes, Maria had thought like anyone would have, that he’d be just fine. But this change in seasons was just her excuse. Morrow was really done with his journey.  Thus, after a few days of lying in bed, Tomorrow pass...

TWO years were passing like air – those years of ETC, or Banji’s elementary teacher study... And just while this dreamer was wrapping up his course, a higher programme for teachers got to Iwo. A township neighbouring his. Well, this programme started in a seminary ran by an American church. The same one that Banji’s father once hosted in his place. Now his son Joshua Morrow wanted a proper course... So when he heard some Grade-II Teacher course (which certified one to teach high school) went right next door, he borrowed the funds, and plunged. He plunged in the school promise at Iwo. Banji wasn’t the kind of dude that only dotted his i’s and crossed the t’s. But he even crossed his seven with a standard stroke. He liked what they call standard, then played with it. It was the mid-50s and Morrow Jr took the two-year programme while adding some piano class. The boy went for the teacher’s college ran by a church mission, the American preachers. He attended classes, went to chapel, and lea...

WHEN the Olivet door closed for Bamiji in 1951, even that year a new door opened. People do say when a door closes, another may open. But in Banji’s case a new one was built, and then flung open. Life calls this ‘fate’, or ‘providence’. But these were the Arms of God helping man. Yes, the mid-century saw Nigeria’s education try methods. But Banji sought a good pay job. So, the ’50s rolled in, and just at the start of that decade, school boards did things... They rebranded basic form-schools, and named them ‘Elementary Schools’. Then they held crash courses to recruit new teachers. So, when Banji dropped out of high school and went back home, the teacher’s college was then starting there. It was late ’51 and the Elementary Teachers College went there briefly. It was starting some two-year programme in the town, to train school leavers to teach schools... To teach ‘pre-school.’ So, Joshua Morrow applied for the course. And was the first and only Ede-born to enrol. Their first to complete...

NOW Joshua Morrow didn’t enrol in college only; he picked up activities that went on to shape future, too. Banji entered high school and led a high life—picked up novels, and history, and reason... And took up chat around books in boarding school. So, out from Oliver Twist came talk around “Oliver Twist wants more”—and his question: “Why shouldn’t he?” Then She Stoops to Conquer would become his life motto till past 80. Yet it was school book. And when he saw some boys train around their hostel early at wake time, he asked about them and heard they were scouts. So he enlisted with that band of Boys Scout. Yes, Bamiji led the high school life well... the Olivet dream. He was the kind to hope high, then hop in air. So when sports time came, he went for high jump. Now this lad picked high jump, and went on competing post-study. He did Olivet, from study to more fun things. And from curricular to the extra bit. But he did all these in his first two years, as he soon ran out of fuel—or say,...

THESE were the late 1940’s through ’51. Joshua Morrow took a job to save funds for Olivet, while the Abra’ms had a new baby. Their father’s ground was fast reviving, as he’d fallowed some lots for long. So he was breaking up some ground and planting crops. Now the school leaver of 20-something took his brief job with the surname Moro. He’d written his name as Banji Moro in the standard grade school, as he hadn’t known how his dad took the name. Yes, Banji was the first to pen this name after Morrow redeemed it. But he wrote it as anyone else would have. So, in those few years of the job, Joshua Moro summed things up and concluded he could launch out then. That he could reach for his goal, the school dubbed ‘Olivet High’ – banking on his savings and the farms. Well, if these savings won’t do much, I can send to Father for help. And, definitely, his farmland won’t go dying out again in small time. It can only get better from here. So, armed with this thought, the young Morrow enrolled fo...

BANJI read through the pamphlet and saw promise. He found several jobs he could get with just the standard grade... Plus, the monthly cheques the jobs could fetch. The young man was surprised; he stared at his momma for quite a bit, and then countered: ‘I know I can get a job with Standard VI! But I just want to reach the peak—get to the top of this thing called school, and land a top job!’ Oki nodded. ‘I know, Bamiji. And it’s why I brought home this thing.’ She tapped on the leaflet in-between them. ‘I wanted you to read it and see where to get money for more. To follow your dream and be more. ‘So, my good son, get one of these jobs. Save up some fund and go right on to big school—or what d’ you call it?’ ‘High School, ma’mi,’ quipped Banji. (He’d bowed in thought and didn’t look up. But Oki was up.) ‘High school... good! So get a job for now, then you can save for the morrow. ‘You don’t grow a full height in one day, Banji. But take it from me, you will reach that height!’ ‘A-men!’...

JOSHUA sat up, pulling his legs inwards. Then he pulled himself closer to his mother as Oki lent him her ears. ‘Mother, you know I just finished school?’ the young man started. ‘But the problem is, I didn’t finish – I found out that I’ve just started! I mean... after Standard Grade!’ Oki didn’t know standard grade, but she’d thought her son could land a job then. So she asked, ‘How’s that so?’ She felt they’d been tricked. Scammed , to say it modern. ‘The schools I went to are the beginner classes,’ answered the son. ‘That is what I learnt. Now I’ll have to go on to High School to do more.’ He dubbed that form in their language—so high stayed high... As ’ Ẹkọ Giga meant High Form. Now Oki got that phrase in their native tongue, Yoruba; so Bamiji hit the nail. ‘But Ma’mi...!’ he stressed. ‘There is yet Higher Learning after that one! And things keep getting higher. Too high I want to stop!’ He’d gone comparative on the ‘high’ word, and then stopped. ‘But I really want to do book! Real...

MARIA had watched her second son look distraught this whole while; yet she couldn’t place why he’d so be. Then one night, she walked in the boy’s room, saw him breathe in his sleep, and sat. He was facing the mud wall, as he laid curled up on the mat. His mother Oki Maria knew to comfort. So she simply clasped a hand over his shoulder, and whispered, ‘I won’t pressure you about anything, you know that!’ Banji got up at those words. They sounded quite pleasant, and went so apt enough to wake him. No, the voice that bore those words was the rousing beat. It was loving, heartening. Then it was his momma—she had come. So, Banji jolted up from sleep. ‘Ah Mother! When did you—?’ Oki repeated. ‘You know I won’t say you bring a bride home tonight. I mean, this very night!’ Banji caught the joke and chuckled. ‘Ah ma’mi!’ Oki crossed her arms and bowed her gaze. She pulled a frown to fetch a thought. Then after a bit she added: ‘And nobody in town will ask you to lead, you know!’ Banji caught on...