The KT OLLA Web Stories

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...

NOW Banji rode on and dared to dream. He wanted all that was with books. So he dreamed high. He sought things about the next step and heard about a school in Oyo, a town far away from home. Folks called it Olivet High—that prestigious high school. ‘You know you are studious and brilliant,’ one Western teacher friend told him. ‘If you stop here, it’s okay; but you can climb higher, and stand out! ‘There is a place in Oyo Town. It’s called Olivet. You go there and study, and you can get into college from there. I think you can do more!’ This talk came after Banji was through with schooling in his hometown. He’d felt proud and settled, like he’d got it all. And then he was told he’d only started. Now he dreamed too high. Wanted to see the end of study. But what he’d got wasn’t wings to fly... Only limbs he could swing forth and back. Yet with this small counsel, the young Morrow started out. He made his findings about the school, and found out it would cost so much to enroll. Too much, i...

IN the meantime Abraham Dekomi had grown into a full youth. But while he grew, his limbs grew worse. He couldn’t walk nor carry himself. He was rheumatic. Now his father had got him a young man to back him. And take him everywhere he liked. Then one day – it was in his late teens... the man took him to a girl he liked. Far on the countryside. That girl was fair and fierce, fine and so light-skinned that she turned heads. It seemed she wasn’t made for city, nah. Or else hearts could burst. But then again, this man caught her. Yes, Abraham fell heads over heels with the village girl, took her home and told parents he’d found a girl. But it was his mother who arranged it from start. Yet the young suitor flaunted her. He called her name Bepo – fondly from Apọnbeporẹ , or ‘Fair as the Red Oil.’ So his parents called her that. Morrow was quite pleased that his son liked a woman, and that she loved him just as much. So he gave his consent. But Dekomi had been away for long, staying more on th...

BANJI was at the age when boys take a part of their father’s farm, and take a wife. It was about this age that Morrow left his own father and plunged in the wild. It was about this age, also, that his son was. Still, Banji’s father suddenly had this change of heart about his boy’s future. Just when folk people claimed he had grown. He wanted him to try schooling. Plung in the new wave called literacy. Maybe this thing is better than owning a farm!—he’d thought one day. In the days I could boast my sons would inherit me! That they’d take my farms and grow. But it seems this new thing is the future. This something called ‘books’—. ‘And what if it’s the future?’ he’d blurted out. ‘What if it’s the next big thing? ‘I think Banji should try! He should go there and see!’ So, Morrow walked to the British church in his town Ede, and enrolled his son at the preliminary school there. But then this was 1942, and the father was 73; his son, 17... Even life paused to mock. Still, the country boy pi...

JOSHUA’S father Morrow had been pestered by the missionaries in town to send his kids to school. The four bright kids he had with Maria his wife... Abraham and Joshua, their boys. Then Comfort and her sister, Sarah. Even still, the father had insisted only his boys would read. He’d been a bit like the men of his time, about the new thing called literacy. Then he’d chosen Joshua to attend school, saying his oldest son couldn’t cope with school—for he battled weakening limbs and bones. So, Joshua Morrow showed up in primary school at long last. He’d taken seventeen years to start basic reading and writing, and tally sum. But the fledging boy had taught himself to read through those long wistful years. He leafed through English Bible, and Yoruba. Now Miss Anderson, who taught year one pupils mixing English and native words, stopped her quiz to give instructions. ‘Up stand!’ The students got up, so she walked in front of the new boy. ‘What is your name?’ Well, Joshua didn’t catch that, so ...

1925: THE birth of a young morrow, young dream, young future. Morrow was 56 when he had his promise child with Oki Maria. So he named him Joshua Bamiji Morrow. Their first son had come down with rheumatism, and they were not giving up. Still a promise came for a second child from a God who maps the future. Now Joshua arrived, 1925; and by ’29, he’d got sisters. Then it was two boys and two girls, the house of Morrow and Maria... And with trouble brewing. [1925 – 1979]