I was recently informed that my childhood best friend died. Uche passed on, and the grief hit in ways that were quite unpredictable. The only way I could make sense of the grief was to reach into my collection of memories and write.
I have not written in quite a while, but as one story was completed, another one started. As the dominoes fell, my mind journeyed from Ibadan to Lagos and then to North America. I opened up old emails and WhatsApp messages that had been exchanged, and I did some cross-referencing with friends and family members so I could be sure of the accuracy of my memories.
I have used the memories in my mind to grapple with the legacy that we had and shared.
These memories have helped in providing answers to many questions that were on my mind
How did we get to where we are?
What happened before we became grown?
What will kids remember about their parents?
What would happen if our stories are not told?
I have no answers, but I will do my part in helping our stories come alive.
–Oluwole Leigh (2025)
1986
Jan 1986
Uche and I were kids in the children’s department of the church. The Church we both attended was a part of the Nigerian Baptist Convention and was ultimately a reflection of its inheritance of the (American) Southern Baptist Convention’s religious practices. While other denominations, such as the Anglican communion, referred to where kids assembled on Sundays as Sunday school, Baptists referred to it as the Children’s department.
All the kids in the church, till about JSS3, were expected to report here while service went on in the adult church. Children were divided by age grades into classes, and the classes were assigned teachers whose responsibility was to conduct the service for the kids. These classes also doubled as classrooms for the Church’s primary school, except that the individual desks were moved behind the chairs and the chairs were arranged in a semicircle. This arrangement had the teacher in the middle, usually with the boys in one section and the girls in the other.
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Uche and I had enough knowledge of the bible to last a lifetime, so we felt no need to listen in class. Exchanging funny glances and laughter was our stock in trade while our teacher tried her best to complete the lesson plan. Our teacher (Mrs Durojaiye) soon realised that the Pastor’s son (me) and the Deacon’s son (Uche) had little interest in her mission of converting our young souls to the Lord. As time passed, we began to recruit other classmates into our mild laughter sessions unti our teacher realised that the spiritual seriousness of our parents had not rubbed off on us. It dawned on her that her work would be made easier if Uche and I were not sitting beside each other.
One fateful Sunday, she doled out the greatest punishment known to boykind at the time by making me go sit among the girls. It became a fulfilment of the prophecy spoken to Prophet Zechariah in the 13th Chapter and the 7th verse – “Strike the Shepherd and the Sheep will scatter”. Peace and calm descended on the class as the noisemakers were split up and the ring leader sent into exile.
1987
Jun 1987
While Deacon Clement Ojeh was in meetings after service, Mrs Olusola Ojeh was also caught up in meetings with the teachers of the Children’s department. These teachers often prayed and held weekly reviews of all their activities in the small auditorium. With all the adults busy, Uche and the rest of us had our own “meetings” with the football or with the table-tennis egg.
Our field was right in front of the Pastorium, where members parked their cars, but it often became available once the cars were gone. If we were not playing soccer, we were breaking flat pieces of wood into two. The flat pieces of wood were used in place of the table tennis bat, while a long piece of bamboo and 2 supporting stones served as the dividing net. Sundays were fun – play music in church, exchange stories about movies and play sports. Little did we know that our Sunday soccer Olympics were to be cut short.
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After a few Sundays of raucous sporting encounters, Uche showed up and said something about his mum saying that we were to keep the Sabbath day holy. Keeping the Sabbath day “holy” meant that football was no longer to be played. I was shocked that football was not on the heavenly list of approved activities on Sundays. It was shocking to me because my parents were supposed to be higher on the spiritual hierarchy, but had not informed me of this divine ordinance. We stopped playing soccer and stuck to table tennis.
For some reason, there were no ecclesiastical complaints about table tennis. Years later, I realized that the noise levels we produced with table tennis, a two-player game, were much less than Soccer, a sport which could have 10 children playing at a time.
Jun 1987
There were a couple of Deacons in our church who had English first names. They had names like Meshach, Curtis, Henry, and then there was Clement. Meshach Oguniyi’s family had a grey Volvo station wagon, while Henry Ajagbe had a white 504. Clement Ojeh was the tall, soft-spoken one who drove a red Volvo GLE and parked in front of the Pastorium on Sundays. Most of these deacons spoke with an eloquence that belied the years of education they had acquired in foreign lands.
One of the first times I encountered Uche’s dad was during a church business meeting. The Baptist churches are run by a tripartite combination of the Pastor, deacons and regular members. Unlike other denominations, the deacons held a lot of power since they often outlasted the pastor. A church could choose not to have a pastor, but could not run without the deacons and deaconesses. Major decisions regarding the running of the church were usually brought to the church business meeting. These meetings were held once a month on Wednesdays.
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This was when the clergy and the laity submitted themselves to the processes of America-style democracy by vetting decisions, moving motions and casting votes. Every attendant at the meeting had one vote and could get an opportunity to speak at the microphone before yielding the floor. The speaker before Deacon Ojeh said something that obviously infuriated him, so he asked for the opportunity to respond.
Clement Ojeh got to the microphone and said with a slightly raised voice – “What you are saying is that I came up here to tell the whole church a tissue of lies…” That was my first time hearing that wonderful expression, so I kept on repeating the words in my mind so I could use them later – Tissue of lies, Tissue of lies, Tissue of lies. I didn’t even know what an expression was. In my “primary school mind”, “Tissue” was reserved for the bathroom while “lies” were supposed to send you to hell. What in the world did “tissue” have to do with “lies”? Was the deacon with greying hair complaining that people were telling lies in the bathroom? Why would people tell lies in the bathroom? I had no idea what he was talking about, but that expression stayed with me from then till now.
1988
Oct 1988
I moved to the University of Ibadan Staff School sometime in Primary 3 (Third Grade). Staff School was different from what I was used to. All the classes were laid out with no storey buildings, unlike my previous school. The cars drove into the school, turned in the roundabout and then dropped you off on the rocks. The rocks were both a drop-off point and a play zone. Kids would play around the rocks during recess and after school while waiting to be picked up. The assembly hall was where we had morning assembly before being dismissed to our classes. While the assembly hall was used for school during the week, it served as the Sunday school (children’s department) location for the University Chapel.
Changing to Staff School meant that I was now able to see Uche at least six days a week. Uche had his circle of friends in the school before I showed up, so I didn’t exactly get a warm welcome from him. For a while, it seemed that our friendship was built for Sundays and not for daily contact. However, I was welcomed to the school by Kunle and Bola, who were a few sets ahead of me and Olisa (Uche’s younger brother). The school’s library provided books that we devoured. The library brought us into the world of Enid Blyton’s Secret Seven and the Famous Five. As time went on, we exchanged our realities for those that were pictured in those books. We started to reclassify bushes as hedges and grass as flowers. It took a while to reorient my mind to the mystery books I was reading so I spent most of my time asking my father if he knew about the Famous Five and the dog named Timmy while he studied in the U.S
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The Vet department offices were in the wooden blocks beside Staff school, so it was not uncommon to run into the Durojaiye or Ojeh dads when we ran around after school. There were times when I got picked up late on Fridays. The driver often knew where to find me. I loved the Friday late pickups because it gave me 2 options – Ride with the Durojaiyes or with the Ojehs. I looked forward to riding with the Durojaiyes because their mum made sugar-roasted peanuts. You only had to do a few minutes of digging underneath the car seats before you ran into a stray packet of these peanuts. There was nothing more fascinating to me than Sugar Peanuts. I did not know the coating and roasting of nuts with honey in those days. All I believed then was that the Durojaiyes had a tree behind their house that grew sugar peanuts.
Even though the Ojehs didn’t have as much space in their red Volvo, it looked a lot cooler than the standard Peugeot cars that were issued by the Government. The Ojehs initially stayed in the blocks at Parry Road. After a while, they moved. The journey from Staff school would take you past the Anatomy Department and then the Staff Club as you joined Amina Way. The journey on Amina Way progressed till you got near the Catholic church on Emotan Lane.
A right turn led you past the Catholic church, the roundabout, and the University Mosque to Benue Road. You would make a left turn at Benue road till you hit Sankore. Once you got on Sankore, you kept counting the turns on the left till you got to the one before the Polytechnic gate.
The street was called Kurunmi.
1989
Mar 1989
The Ojehs lived in a “bungalow” that was surrounded by flowers and had a small field beside it. The garage door had a little driveway, which was often where the Volvo was parked. Only a few houses on the UI campus had physical fences. Most of the individual houses used vegetation for separation. Outside the house was a field that could either serve as a car park when there were visitors or as a football field.
The field was a mix of grass and pebbles, which often made playing soccer challenging. Here, Uche had an opportunity to display a modest set of soccer skills. While Emeka was the one with the obvious sporting talent, Uche made up for this deficit with a lot of enthusiasm. He wasn’t fast, so he often chose to hog the ball while playing and shield you off with his body. Unlike Uche, I had a more realistic view of my talent levels and was quite aware that my dad was a goalkeeper and not an outfield player in his days. In times when we had no goalkeepers available, we would shrink the post size and play with a “monkey post”. This meant that everyone on the field became a player while the angels stayed at the posts. The most interesting thing about playing on that field was that it sloped downwards. If you had the luck of playing “uphill”, every form of attack became tiring as time went on.
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The house had two entrances, with the front entrance leading into the living room and the side entrance leading into the kitchen. If you used the side entrance of the house, it led you through the kitchen and then the dining area, while the main entrance led you into the living room. The door adjacent to the living room led you to the bedrooms. Depending on which entrance you came through, the huge brown piano sat majestically in the living room.
With the absence of the TV, the piano became the highlight of the room. It was on this piano that it became evident that Emeka’s skill levels were way higher than ours. On weekends, the living room would host Bible club meetings and piano recitals for children of other University lecturers. Right after the bible stories, board games would start. It was in this living room that my career in playing checkers started and ended. I would make a move, and Uche would make multiple moves across squares and “peck” all my pieces. My young mind couldn’t fathom the unfairness of a game where a player could wreck all your chances of success in one fell swoop.
If we got tired of hanging out in the house, you had many houses you could visit since Kurunmi Road was also home to the Arowolos and Iwayemis. The Adesomojus stayed next door to the Ojehs, and the Durojaiyes would move on to the same street a few years after. Whenever we got bored with Kurunmi Road, Pepple Street was not far away. Only the adults would go from Kurunmi to Sankore and then to Pepple, which was parallel to Kurunmi. We used to hop across the hedges to Pepple Street, where the Ogunrinades and Ikotuns lived
1990
Jun 1990
The tradition in church was that you graduated from the Children’s department in Primary six and then moved to Bible Class when you got to high school. Attending service in the “big church” was reserved for when you were in your Senior high days, but we had a quick-fire promotion.
I started playing the drums while Emeka was playing the piano in church. This meant that we were supposed to go to the “big church” for 15 minutes, play the instruments and then return to our normal classes. Over time, we got more comfortable with listening to hymns in the big church instead of daydreaming in the children’s department about the next mango fruit we would pluck or the football we would play. Because of the exception we had, Uche was allowed to accompany us to the main church.
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One of my roles in church after playing the drums was to fill him in on what was on TV during the week, since Deacon Clement Ojeh, in his heavenly wisdom, had decided that there was not to be a TV in his house. I was the designated human recorder, so I had to keep the details of the wrestling matches I watched on Saturday and the Chinese action movies on Wednesday in my head in preparation for the Sunday download. Our other friend, Remi, was the designated movie watcher. Remi’s family had a functional VCR, which enabled him to watch movies on VHS. He watched movies and narrated them while I watched TV, and then I narrated to Uche.
For the Yoruba shows, a two-stage process was required. First, I had to translate the context of the show before recounting the scenes. The translation of the context of the show was needed, so he could use his imagination to construct the scenes. Back then, there was a police detective show on TV in Ibadan titled “Eleti Ofe.” It was the stereotypical cop show in which individuals with criminal intent created cases for the police to solve. So, I described the show as a TV version of Sherlock Holmes, since that was a point of reference he knew from his love for books.
Some other types of shows, such as Chinese movies, were a lot easier to narrate. Some of the narrations went like “ short chinese guy with a moustache climbed a thousand hills before he could meet master, after he met master, master sent him to fetch water and cut firewood, then bad guys appeared in the temple, master killed all the bad guys with a stick
We were the Internet before the Internet had a name.
Aug 1990
Uche, I, and others were part of a band named OYV ( Oritamefa Young Voices), a group of young kids with some sort of musical talent. We were invited to youth events in various churches that knew of us. Although we were from a Baptist Church, we often ministered at Anglican churches. I am not sure if this was due to Mrs Ojeh’s family association with the Anglican church or her association with the Scripture Union. The number of church leaders who had been in the Scripture Union was growing, and this made it possible for people across denominations to be acquainted.
We honoured an invitation to perform at St. Anne’s Church in Molete. For those who knew what St. Anne’s church was like in the 80s and 90s, the current site was under construction while the old chapel was in use. Under the influence of Enid Blyton books and “The Hardy Boys” series, we always found opportunities to seek out adventure. Sometime during the event, Uche and I wandered off from the Old Chapel to the newer church that was under construction.
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The new church was built in a triangular shape that mirrored the architecture of the smaller auditorium in our church. According to my dad, the missionaries often replicated architectural ideas that they were used to in their home countries. They came from countries where it snowed, and that was why they designed churches with sloping roofs. The idea was to ensure that snow could not accumulate on the roofs. Our smaller auditorium at Oritamefa Baptist Church had geometrically shaped holes in the walls from the top to the bottom. These holes were added so that airflow could be maintained throughout the building without the need for fans. While the overall design was based on a design suited for cooler climes, some level of localisation was added to make it suit its environment. I found it quite interesting that St. Anne’s had maintained the sloped roof design in its new building since this was obviously being built by and for Nigerians.
As Uche and I entered the dark construction site, we saw a staircase to the right, and we made our way to the church gallery. Looking out in the dark, it was possible to see what the completed church was going to be like. Suddenly, we heard a sound. In our heads, we assumed the security guard was on patrol and coming to get us. That’s when we wished we had rubber shoes that they talked about in the adventure books; the ones their detectives often wore as they fled the crime scene. Unfortunately, this was Molete and not Missouri, Olopa and not “Cops”, reality and not fiction. The moment we got downstairs, we fled back to the old church before the service ended.
1993
Mar 1993
The Ojehs left Nigeria for the U.S in 1993. At that time, Uche and I were in our second year in secondary school. We had heard rumours that something was in the offing, but we chose not to believe our ears. I couldn’t understand why anyone would want to leave Ibadan, O.B.C., University of Ibadan. What could be more important in life than rolling tires on Sankore road or playing soccer on fields in Kurunmi?
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Since we didn’t see Uche’s dad for a while, we suspected that he was the one responsible for the sudden departure of the family. Why did the Ojeh parents want to stop their kids from having all the fun that we were having? Eventually, it dawned on me that the rumours were true. A huge part of our existence was going to change. The Ojehs were …… disappearing. “Disappearing” was what it looked like to my feeble mind because “relocation” was not yet in my lexicon.
Our worst fears were confirmed when they left. Between Kunle, Bola, Tominiyi and me, the dreams started. Someone mentioned that they had a dream in which the Ojehs came back to Nigeria. The dreaming became contagious when another person had the same dream. The frequency of the same dream would have made a casual observer wonder if we were training to become priests of the Celestial Church of Christ. Eventually, the dreams subsided, and our lives had to go on. Bola stepped up to play the piano in place of Emeka while Remi and I continued with our lives.
2005
Jun 2005
There is a period in bible history that is referred to as “the silent period”. This was about 400 years between the end of Malachi and the birth of John the Baptist. It was said that during this period, there were no new scriptures or revelations. The period after their departure was the equivalent of the silent period in our relationship with the Ojehs. The Durojaiyes had moved to Kurunmi Road, and we were growing through high school. The route of the cross-country race took us from Sankore road to Kurunmi road, and I would stare at No. 1 Kurunmi road as I ran past. As I ran, I would comfort myself with all the memories that the house held. There was no way to get much news about Uche and Emeka. All we heard then were rumours that Emeka was going to the N.B.A.
In 1998, I had a holiday job that involved operating an email address for the whole of the University of Ibadan. There were two functional emails at the time – The commercial one at the library and the official one at the V.C.’s office. This was how I got in touch with most friends who had moved abroad and now had access to email. I searched for Uche’s email, but I had no idea how to get access to it.
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Internet access started growing in the early part of the 2000’s and I opened an email address on excite.com. Somehow, I got Uche’s Hotmail address, which I sent an email to, and he responded after a while. School and life happened, and another silent period started, which only ended in 2005. My dad informed me that the Ojehs were in Lagos and that Uche asked after me. I got Deacon Ojeh’s number, and he sent the address. I found my way to their location in Yaba and saw Uche and the dad for the first time in about 15 years. Uche didn’t look so different (except for his bushy hair), and he immediately asked if he could get a shirt that looked like the NYSC vest I was wearing. I found the request to be interesting. How many people return to Nigeria after a decade and then immediately seek symbols of identification with Nigeria?
Uche seemed to be on a mission to make up for lost time. Anytime I looked at my phone and saw a strange number, it was Uche calling to say he was around. His cousins (Ope and co) bore the brunt of Uche’s demands to go everywhere and see everything. He could be at his aunt’s house in Victoria Garden City at 10 pm and then inform everyone that he wanted to go to Ikeja. It was hard explaining geography, safety and traffic to him.
After a while, he was as comfortable in taxis as he was in his aunt’s car. Uche’s aunt was a director at a bank in Lagos. It was often funny seeing the receptionist thinking of calling security to drive out the funny guy that showed up with crazy hair, shorts and a smile before his aunt asked him to be let in.
2007
Dec 2007
I heard Uche was going to get married in 2007, and I was quite happy for him.
Marriage was far from my mind at the time. That year was the first time I travelled out of Nigeria for work. After a while, I realized that two things could exist side by side. It was ok for Uche to miss Nigeria even if I wasn’t feeling that way at the time. It seemed Uche’s plans were about making up for his long absence from Nigeria, while I was chasing opportunities for occasional absences from Nigeria.
For some reason, one of Uche’s main wishes for his wedding was for his childhood pastor (my Dad) to officiate at his wedding. Since my parents were already visiting the UK at the time, my dad could hop across the pond, and that was what he did. He made it to the U.S in time, officiated at the wedding and flew back.
I thought that Marriage would cure Uche of the issues I assumed were making him show up in Nigeria frequently. The last thing I expected was for him to show up with his new bride in Nigeria. So when I was informed that the Ojehs were around, I assumed it was just the Ojeh parents. I was quite surprised to hear that Uche and Sheinelle were in town. Uche had chosen to spend his first Christmas and New Year as a newlywed with his bride in Nigeria. Given the opportunity to have a white Christmas, Uche instead chose to have a brown Christmas.
I went to see them on a Saturday at their Ibadan residence and met Sheinelle for the first time. We discussed the electoral chances of Barack Obama and Hillary Clinton in the Democratic primary process. As a typical Nigerian, I had no first-hand experience of America, but I considered myself an expert on America. After sharing my view on the possible outcomes of the election, she replied with the facts on the ground.
Let’s just say that history proved her right.
The next day was a Sunday, and the Ojehs were in church. Uche and his new bride stood up during church for recognition when my dad announced in church that two generations of Ojehs were visiting. After the service, Uche and Sheinelle were warmly received by families who knew the Ojehs and their years of service in the church. Uche took her over to the music stand to show her where he started off in music. The drum set that we played back in the day was made by Premier Percussion in the UK. The replacement was a lot shinier but was missing the lustre of the older one.
They left the church building and he took her around the compound, showing her the classrooms where he learnt on Sunday as well as the areas where we had played as children. Unfortunately, the mango and almond trees that fell victim to our stones and sticks were removed when the church compound was tarred. The compound held memories for Uche, and he did his best to explain every part of it to his new bride. On a previous visit to Nigeria, Uche showed up at the church compound during the school day, found the school kids playing table tennis (ping-pong), and he joined them in a match.
After his tour of the compound, we retired to our house, which was where the Ojeh’s red Volvo used to be parked on Sundays. We were hungry, so I took them to get some lunch at Mr. Biggs in Bodija. After dropping them off, I started my journey back to Lagos. In my absence, Uche continued his journey into the past by visiting different parts of the University of Ibadan, where he spent a lot of his childhood.
Seeing Uche and Sheinelle during the Nigerian pilgrimage helped me to understand that Marriage was not exactly the “change agent” that it was described to be. Uche’s love for his country of birth did not diminish after the wedding.
Like other aspects of human existence, it showed me then that marriage was whatever you wanted it to be.
2009
Oct 2009
My girlfriend (who later became my wife) was in Philly for a month for an external training, so I mentioned to her that she should pay a visit to Uche and his family. Part of the traditional marriage process is what is called the “Introduction”. This is where members of both families exchange gifts and get to know themselves. However, family members with whom you share a closer bond are given a “sneak preview” in the form of a family visit with the spouse before the date of the Introduction. These chosen ones get to meet your intended spouse before the formal ceremonies. The idea is that those selected family members should make you feel welcome before the introduction day. Considering that we lived on separate continents, there was no way to be certain that my wife would get to meet the Ojehs before we got married. This was why I sent her number to Uche so the visit could be arranged.
It was interesting that Uche had only started coming back to Nigeria a few years before then, but he was fully aware of all the relevant cultural nuances. When he first spoke with her, he used the word “Sister” as an appellation of sorts before her name. Even though the use of the word “Sister” as a prefix to a name was standard practice among those of Christian extraction in Nigeria, she was quite surprised that he switched from the Western norm to the Nigerian-Christian norm. On getting to Uche’s house, she found out that Mrs Ojeh (Uche’s mum) was also visiting them at the time. The visit was a lot more successful than planned because she got to meet two generations of Ojehs at the same time.
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Another reason for visiting Uche was that I wanted him to help get my “Swiss” wristwatch fixed at the watchmaker’s official store in Philly. It should be noted that the wristwatch was purchased on the expert recommendation of friends at a high-end watch store in Lagos. One of the selling points of the store was that the warranty on the watch was effective worldwide. A few days later, Uche visited the dealer’s store for the repair, but was surprised by the response from the dealer. They informed him that it was one of the highest-quality fakes of their products that they had ever seen. They were quite impressed by the quality of craftsmanship exhibited in that clone.
Uche called me and told me my “Swiss” wristwatch was not real. The shock went beyond my personal loss. The shock was that a high-end store was selling expensive fakes.
Since then, nothing of Swiss descent has been found on my wrist.
2010
Feb 2010
There was a time that Uche showed up, and I thought it would be nice to get some Suya at the Palms in Lekki. After we got there, Uche laughed and asked me why I was trying to give him vegan suya or thereabout when the “real stuff” was on the streets. He was about to learn his lesson in an interesting way.
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I didn’t know how to explain to him that those of us who had lived longer in Lagos had antibiotics at our beck and call to deliver us from the travails of our stomachs. Our good friend did not heed my warnings. Uche ate everywhere and anywhere with the “street credibility” he assumed he had until his stomach caught up with him. On that day, he ran into his aunt’s office past the security into the toilet. After coming out, he ran back again. Most of his day was spent in the toilets of various office buildings in Victoria Island.
2014
Jan 2014
This was my first time in the U.S, so I told Uche that I would be in New York before heading out West to San Francisco. He asked me to cancel my initial plans, which revolved around New York tourism, so I could visit him in Philly. So, I jumped on a Boltbus and headed to Philly. For some inexplicable reason, I assumed that Philly would be a little hotter than New York was. I was sorely disappointed as I shivered in the cold at the drop-off point near 30th Street in Philly. Uche found me before I froze to death.
From the bus station, we went with Kayin to a barber shop to get his haircut, and then we found our way home. This was my first time in a “black barbershop”. This one seemed to confirm some of the stereotypes that have been seen on TV. There was the big barber shop owner who cut Kayin’s hair and wanted to talk about whatever his customer wanted to talk about. On hearing that I came from Nigeria, he started a diatribe about “how all Nigerians are millionaires”. Other barbers took care of the customers as well as those who didn’t come for any services other than to hang out and talk. Another set of customers was those who were not ready to get a haircut from anyone other than the shop owner. They were willing to wait their turn, no matter how long it took. When the haircut was done, we proceeded home.
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Uche ordered dinner, and it turned out to be an interesting-looking Philly delicacy – Grilled Octopus. The superstitious African in me came out as I gently prodded parts of the Octopus to check for vital signs. It all looked like the opening scene of a Netflix thriller in which a slain animal resurrected to inflict vengeance on the benefactors of its demise. To my greatest relief, the octopus stayed dead, grilled and tasty.
Sometime in the middle of the cold night, Uche grabbed his keys and said we should visit some landmarks. We drove near the house where the Declaration of Independence was signed. Uche started some sermons about the historic significance of that house and told me about how Thomas Jefferson and his “goon squad” started the country. Here was a Lagos/Ibadan boy listening to an Ijebu/American boy’s patriotic treatise about his adopted country. The warmth I felt did not come from the heavy layers of clothing that I wore.
It came from the feeling that friends are those with whom you can pause a conversation and resume where you left off after a decade.
2015
Jul 2015
It was the 4th of July weekend of 2015, and we had flown into New York for a few days before moving on to Philadelphia. Sheinelle and Uche had moved in the opposite direction from Philly to New York, and Uche had graciously offered to host us for a few days before we moved on to the final destination.
Uche brought up the idea of heading out of town to the Catskills for the 4th of July holiday. We set out on Friday, the 3rd of July, with Uche, Kayin, Uche jnr, Clara, Keneil, my son, my heavily pregnant wife and me in Uche’s large SUV. We got to the mountain lodge sometime in the evening. It was fairly rusty from the outside and didn’t exactly look like something one would appreciate after flying a thousand miles. However, the warmth of unfamiliar surroundings, flowing streams and rustling leaves made the first night at the lodge worth it.
Early the next day, we got out of the lodge and headed to the campsites. There were multiple campsites with people from different parts of the country. Somewhere on the left side of the road, we found a lake park which had small boats for hire and also had kids’ activities to engage the kids. We all got life jackets and took turns getting ready for the boat rides. The boats were paddle boats that depended on someone sitting at the bow and another sitting at the stern.
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Uche and his friend went on the first ride. As I watched them with Uche jnr and Clara in the paddle boat, sitting calmly with miniature paddles enjoying themselves, I thought of my inability to swim if there was an emergency. But then, I saw the expectation on my son’s face as he waited his turn and expected his dad to get on the paddle boat with him.
When the boat came around. Uche’s friend got off, and Uche told me to get onboard. My son got in and we started paddling. Gradually, my fears gave way as I got the hang of the paddling instructions. It all felt like bliss the moment I managed to convince myself that the water was not so deep. We went to the outer edges of the lake where it fed into a larger body of water, but then we turned back.
It was a surreal moment with Uche and our kids on the boat, calmly parting the waters with the paddles. As we got to shore, Uche asked if I could swim, and I said ‘No.’ All of a sudden, it dawned on him that we had maybe taken a bit of a risk. He had made an assumption, and I went with the flow.
Jul 2015
Eventually, we found our way back to the lodge before sundown. It was a great opportunity to explore parts of the property that included some streams and an animal barn. Uche announced that he was going to use the coal grill that came with the lodge. Just like he asked me if I could swim, I asked him if he could cook.
This question came because I had never heard any mention of his cooking skills. While Uche wasn’t the type to brag about any abilities that he had, he had an easy way of letting you know about the things he was better at. Uche was the one who would call me young because he was older by a whopping 3 months. At that time in my life, boiled eggs were as far as I could go in the kitchen, so I assumed that we shared a common lack of culinary abilities. However, Uche announced boldly – I don’t cook, I grill. Since I could neither cook nor grill, I kept my counsel but wondered how he managed to skip the cooking grade.
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Pitmaster Uche got some chicken pieces out of the refrigerator and put them on the grill. I am not sure of how he lit the coals, but it was quite obvious that all was not well with Uche’s grilling career. He battled the coals as well as the chicken for a while. Getting the coals lit was hard enough; preventing a conflagration required a complex skill set.
Years later, after learning to grill, I came to understand that indirect grilling would have been better for the chicken. That would have required the exposure of the chicken to heat at the colder side of the grill, ensuring both cooking and flavouring were achieved. Uche set the chicken directly on the coals, giving himself a little margin for failure.
At the end of the day, Pitmaster Uche served up what could best be described as a burnt offering, only acceptable to our Lord and Saviour – Jesus Christ, who promised to love us despite our shortcomings. My wife chuckled when she saw the results of our grilled chicken. I begged her to help us make it consumable for humans.
Thankfully, she obliged.
Jul 2015
Right beside the lodge was a tall barn, which we visited when we got to the lodge. The barn housed a few horse sheds, which had not been put into use for a long time. Sometime before midnight, Uche announced that he was going on an exploration. Going on an adventure was what we did when our lives were about jumping on swings in the school play zone, plucking fruits from trees and rolling tyres on UI’s Parry Road.
Grown (black) men with kids don’t go on “adventure”.
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I went to sleep, and he went out. On waking up the next day, I asked Uche- How did it go? According to him, he opened the door of the barn and was peeking inside until he heard some noise. He tried to discern if the noise was made by humans or animals but was unable to conclude. Suddenly, thoughts of a bear on the prowl came to his mind before he fled the barn for the house. I didn’t know how to address his flight- I suspect that the American in him was what led him on a midnight adventure to the barn that we had already visited. Fortunately, the Ijebu (Nigerian) in him kicked in, and he made a hasty getaway.
Jul 2015
We got back home from our mini-vacation on a Sunday, and as the kids settled in, Uche asked me to step out of the house with him. He had spotted an empty car space that was big enough to hold his large vehicle in front of the house. I was surprised when he screamed for me to stand on the spot and not allow anyone to park there.
I totally understood the concept of claiming space and asserting dominion over territory from my days in Lagos. I found it fascinating that Uche wanted me to act like an “area boy” on the streets of New York. Considering that my visibly pregnant wife and my son were inside the house, how great would it have been to hear that Daddy passed onto glory because he was defending an empty spot? But then I thought, how would I explain to Uche that a Nigerian was scared of protecting a spot on the mean streets of New York? So I stood resolutely like I knew what I was doing. Since the street only allowed traffic in one direction, Uche had to make a turn on the next street before coming back.
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Just before he showed up, another driver saw the empty spot but did not see me standing with my arms folded. As the driver inched forward, I made eye contact with him, frowned and delivered my best impression of the Lagos motor-park strongman. The driver (who happened to be African American) realised what was happening and then broke out into laughter. He realised that I was claiming space for my friend and left. By the time he drove away, I was extremely relieved and thankful that my acting career was over. Uche showed up, and I presented the spot to him as evidence of my battles on those streets.
That was when he explained that NY street sweepers were coming the next day, so they expected one side of the street to be empty until they were done sweeping. This was the explanation for all the drama that he put me through.
Oct 2015
The national fruit of Jamaica, known as the Ackee, was said to have been imported in the 18th century from West Africa on slave ships. In Ghana, this fruit is known as “akye fufo,” while it is called the “Ishin” fruit in the southwestern part of Nigeria. The word “Ishin” is a noun, while “Mushin” is a derivative verb which describes the action (Mu) carried out on the “Ishin” fruit/ tree. According to some accounts, this is the etymology of the word mushin in Ijebu-Imusin. Ijebu-Imusin is the ancestral homeland of the Ven. Osisanya (Uche’s maternal grandfather )’s family.
Uche showed up in Nigeria around October 2015 and gave me a fundraising envelope. His maternal family was building a church in memory of their grandparents after Grandma’s passing. I called Kunle and told him that the Ojehs were raising funds to build a church in Ijebu-Imusin. We had a conversation where we discussed our scepticism about the need for another church construction project in a country where millions of citizens lived in poverty.
As far as we were concerned, Nigeria needed more infrastructure, such as non-profit schools, healthcare facilities and potable water, than it needed church buildings. From our perspective, this looked like a well-intentioned idea which was probably out of tune with the real needs of the population in Aunty Sola Ojeh’s hometown.
A neutral observer would wonder why we had opinions on a family project that we were not directly involved in. Who appointed us as analysts on a family project? Apparently, no one did. However, the length of history between all the families made it possible for us to hold such opinions without any fear.
Looking back now, I could say there were two things that we failed to take into cognisance.
Firstly, societal interventions needed in rural communities have a better chance of survival if they are linked to existing structures. No matter the brilliance of any idea, if its proponents were not able to navigate the bureaucracies in that community, the idea would have died a brilliant death. People in these rural communities recognise the church as a social institution around which other social interventions, such as schools and hospitals, are often attached. Hence, the provision of a church building within this community provided a framework for the other institutions that we assumed the community needed. While the project initially appeared to be a grand idea to us, it would involve the construction of a church, the construction of a vicarage, the hiring of a priest, as well as the transfer of the church to the Anglican communion. The complexities of these individual tasks would require the mobilisation and participation of Ijebu-Imusin citizens in a way that other simplistic interventions could not do.
Some other point that we failed to consider was the importance of legacy. Uche’s grandfather (Ven. Osisanya) was a well-known pillar in the community. Back in the day, it was not uncommon for those who became principals to also train as priests, since the British colonial system required a maximisation of the human resources within the colonies. Hence, those who were able to serve as educators could deliver homilies as well as preach messages. Serving as a priest was not just about your personal contribution to society; it was about lifting the name of the community.
Once the name Osisanya was mentioned, the town of Ijebu-Imusin was also brought into close reference. Ven Osisanya was the principal of Ijebu Ode Grammar School, which was started by the Church Missionary Society and produced many generations of Nigerian statesmen, intellectuals and technocrats.
After his tenure at the Grammar school, his next major project would involve the creation of a high school in his home town – Ijebu-Imusin Comprehensive High School. This was the legacy that Uche’s family and the other members of the Osisanya family inherited, and the legacy that they ensured was passed on from generation to generation. As a result of the efforts of all members of the family and friends, the Ven. Noah-Clara Osisanya Memorial Church was dedicated in memory of Ven. Noah Osisanya and his wife, Clara Osisanya.
TRIBUTE
Rest in Peace, Uche Adenola Ojeh. I am thankful to God for the opportunity of knowing you.
Written to honour the memories of Uche Ojeh, Seun Olubowale, Bayo Abimbola, Nonso Onyeabo and all others who journeyed on that road.
May your families find comfort.
