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Everyone who ventures into a new culture has a close confidant, a sort of spirit guide, who patiently describes, explains, defends and occasionally apologizes for the beliefs and actions of his people. In Nigeria, that confidant was Mr. Ojo. He was a man approximately in his early 60’s who revealed that fact to few people because his employer, The University of Ibadan, had an automatic retirement policy that would require him to stand aside at 60. So Mr. Ojo told everyone that he was 55. In actual fact, Mr. Ojo didn’t know his exact age. He approximated it by recalling that the Oba of Oyo (a revered tribal leader) died the year he first noted “black hair on his private parts” and thought himself to be 13 at that time. When I met him, he had lived a full life and was an invaluable staff member of the research department of the Department of Preventive and Social Medicine of the University. He was a man of medium stature with kind and sparkling eyes and a round face crowned by a short-cropped and graying rim of hair. I was sympathetic since my own hair had started to turn a few years earlier and now at the age of 35 had reached about the half way mark. Mr. Ojo’s job was to keep the laboratory glassware and other accoutrement of the research department in impeccable condition and to assist in staff efforts to filter the urine of suspected schistosomiasis patients. The research staff would microscopically examine each of the filter papers produced by Mr. Ojo in a search for the tiny eggs that were a sure sign of infection. He was justly proud of his contribution to the work of the department and had many stories about the visiting scientists who had benefitted from his efforts. He was not particularly knowledgeable about the outcomes of the research but had keen recollections of the personalities and the volume of work they generated. Initially, our conversations centered on what sort of car I should buy. Supported by many anecdotes from Laurence, the Department’s driver, it was agreed that the selection should be based on which vehicle would survive in a head on crash. In a match between a Volkswagen and a Peugeot, the Peugeot would certainly emerge victorious. However, the Peugeot would be bested by a Mercedes. While the logic of the approach was indisputable, the Volkswagen won out on cost and the fact that no one expected the owner to hire a driver. As trust and friendship grew between us Mr. Ojo confided about local customs, a few words of Yoruba, ghosts and local foods to eat (and to be avoided). His favorite topic was his 13 children and the hopes and expectations he had for them. Surprised at the size of his brood, he explained to me that he had three wives who produced the children. Harkening back to the conversation about ghosts I remembered that he was a Christian but he related that the oldest and senior wife was his choice, a second wife had been encouraged by his father and the third was the widow of his elder brother. Of course I was curious to know how that worked out in practice. Mr. Ojo patiently told me that the senior wife was in charge of the household and directed the other two ladies as well as the older children in completion of daily chores. The second wife had a small roadside stand where she sold vegetables and sundries primarily to neighbors and contributed to the family income. The third, and youngest wife, looked after the children and helped with washing, cleaning and food preparation under the close scrutiny of the senior wife. Mr. Ojo assured me that all went well and that his household enjoyed peace and harmony. On one occasion Mr. Ojo’s usual bright demeanor and positive outlook disappeared and creases of worry lined his face. The night before he had spent time thinking in depth about the future of his children and about how he was going to see to their education. His sincere desire was to see all thirteen of them through the A Level program. A Levels are the highest quality program offered outside of a private or religious school but the program has a cost that seemed beyond his means. Of course the standard O Level course of study was available and while not free, it was much lower cost that the coveted A Level education. Trying to be helpful I asked about vocational education programs like auto mechanic or cooking that might be less costly or even pay a small stipend. Yes, they exist but would not fulfill his dream of a quality education for all of the children. After a few days of pondering, I asked Mr. Ojo to come to my laboratory so we could talk. Over the next two hours we worked out a possible triage plan for the education of all of the children. He took to the task with great enthusiasm and added nuances as the time went on. In short, the plan would see each child entering into the ordinary (O Level) program for one year. At the end of the year there would be a reasonable basis on which to gage the aptitude and interest of the child for a more rigorous and expensive educational program. Those who showed promise would begin again with the A Level program with a specialty of their own choosing. While a year would be lost, only those who could best benefit would continue on the academic path. Those who’s interests were not particularly academic would continue with the O Level program or move to a vocational program if they wished. Mr. Ojo posed an additional option. Some of the children being girls might drop out of the A Level program before completion in order to marry. I suggested that in that event why not make repayment of the tuition and fees to the family’s educational fund part of the traditional “bride price”. He immediately agreed that approach might work but insisted that if the girl went on to complete her program, there would be no need to repay. We committed our musings to paper and Mr. Ojo left to enlighten his family about the plan. From the spring in his step one would have thought he had been given a new suit of clothes. Over the following months Mr. Ojo stopped in to my lab to brief me about the progress of his children with their education and their lives in general but his proudest day was when he brought his eldest daughter in to the department to meet me. She was shy but especially dressed for the occasion. After introducing us, Mr. Ojo excused himself and left us to discuss the weighty affairs of higher education. As it turned out she was just finishing her A Level program and hoping to go on to a job in commerce. I asked what her major subject was to which she proudly answered, economics. As economics had never been my long suit my questions were quite basic and mostly about the national economy. Her replies were straight forward and very logical. Only when I asked her about Nigeria’s major export did I have a surprise. She answered quite confidently that it was cocoa. Since the year was 1974 and Nigeria had just completed a civil war largely about the new found wealth generated by petroleum it was surprising that no mention was made of that commodity. When I asked about the place of oil in Nigeria’s national economy she opened the textbook she had brought along. The book was worn and had seen years of hard use by many students of economics. Truly, there was nothing in the book to indicate that oil other than palm oil was an important part of the GDP. Only then did I go to the back of the title page to find that the text was written in 1958. One time, nearly a decade after my departure from Ibadan, I had the occasion to return to the university for a brief visit. There I found Mr. Ojo still performing his important tasks for the research department. He now was completely gray and a grandfather several times over. Since my hair too had turned a similar color we commiserated about the indignities of ageing and relived many shared experiences and conversations. Most of his stories were about the accomplishments of his children who were nurses, truck drivers, mothers and fathers. I gently asked him about the plan we had devised and how well it worked. He admitted that there had been a few departures from the original plan but was happy that he had been able to give his children educations that led to enjoyable lives. He also said that a few of them were going to adopt the plan in educating their own families.
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