TRIBUTE TO MY TEACHER

 

It was a long arctic night- the night the nightly news arrived on the borrowed chariot of a long lost friend. I had been regurgitating on an ambiguous Latin term in the note that lay before me, with my back to the desk directly behind and my eyes staring into oblivion, when the tranquility of the classroom where I was seated was perturbed by the vibration of my phone that was stirred up by the turbulent waves of bad news.

‘Hello!’ My friend said

‘Hullo, long time!’ I replied

‘Yes o! You just forgot about me like that’. She accused.

Not wanting to prolong the issue I replied ‘I am sorry, I got busy’

‘Ok o!’ She said not wanting to prolong the matter either.

We exchanged a few more pleasantries before she dropped the bombshell like America did on Hiroshima and Nagasaki in1945.

‘Kure’

‘Yes?’ I answered

‘Do you remember that English teacher that took us English language in SS.3?’

 ‘Yes I do- I remember her vividly’. I replied and when she kept silent, I quickly added

 ‘I even spoke to her last two months’ I said to my friend to show her how close I was with our English language teacher.

 ‘She is no more!’ she said with a sudden diminuendo of tone as though she had just been told that the world was coming to an end that minute.

‘Wowowo… lady, what are you saying?’ I replied expecting to hear that the earlier statement was just an expensive joke that had been triggered off by the fact that we had not seen in ages.

‘It’s true Kure. I can’t joke about a thing like that now’ she said with finality in her voice as she promptly cut the call probably to go mourn our loss or to leave me to my misery.

‘Never’ I muttered to myself as I scrolled through my contacts to confirm the authenticity of the awful news. In no time I got to our teacher’s and before my head could make out what to say to her, my right thumb had dialed the number. Network would however not let it go through. Twice I tried again and then finally a familiar feminine voice spoke and in her characteristic articulate manner, she said:

‘The number you dialed is switched off!’

‘Switched off?’ ‘How can?’ I asked rhetorically, as I tried dialing the number again. And again and again, the same articulate voice kept coming back at me.

‘She probably must have switched off her phone because of her illness’ I said again to myself not wanting to think otherwise. Then I called a colleague of hers to confirm if he had heard the news and to my utter disappointment he confirmed the incredulous news to be true. ‘Aaah!’ I shouted as my phone suddenly became like hot coal in my palm and my heart began to pump faster. My brain was spinning in my head and the earth was revolving underneath my legs as my eyes promptly became active volcanoes letting out a molten magma of tears. ‘So it is true?’ I said again as the tears began to flow freely like the Gurara water falls in Niger state.

Alas it was true! It was true that the cold, filthy hands of death had taken her away from me without my even noticing it. It was all coming back to me now. It was entirely my fault that she left without bidding me farewell because I had not bothered to call her even when I knew she was down with that damned illness - that God-forsaken disease! But who was I to know that it was all going to come to this when I am not the almighty? Alas! All I can do now is to nurse the hurt and treasure the memories of her.

 Till date, I cannot decipher how the wind of death could push an Iroko down in one fell swoop without an opportunity to fight back. Oh! Death how brutal thou art!   I know that even though she was unable to fight back here on earth, death will never defeat her in the great beyond for she had the bravery of a lion and the strength of an elephant.

She was incredibly intelligent, poptastically gifted and impressively eloquent; her rich vocabulary was the envy of her peers, students and colleagues. I recall vividly those Times when she would urge us to speak only the appropriate Queen’s English if we ever wanted to be like her. How can I also forget the day she had to impose stringent penalty on us to see that we spoke just the correct English? I recall too well too how she even made enemies of some of us who seldom come on her list of ‘pigeon English’ speakers. For her ‘pigeon English’ was not an option- it was either your mother’s tongue or the Queen’s English. No more, no less! There never even was a time when I visited her at home that she did not have something to correct about my spoken English. Often times I would wonder to myself if she had been borne in the country where English language originated from because she seemed to know just everything about the language! She not only was an intellectual but she was an effectual orator and a sage that was dearly loved and respected by all who knew her.

At home, she was as gentle as the quiet of rivers of Shiroro, holy as Saint Monica and graceful as Queen Elizabeth II. She rarely had any cause to quarrel with her sons. One word from her was enough to keep everyone in check without having to raise a finger. She was indeed a mother and a wife, a sister and a friend.

It saddens me that she had to leave at a time when the world needed her most. Cruel death took her when her labour was just about to be rewarded. I know it is not the end yet anyways because she has only gone to be with the Lord. We shall see her again someday. Until then Posterity will live to remember her!

         

Mrs. Alabi Erondu Ezioma was a former teacher at Government Secondary School Bwari, Abuja and Kure Ayuk’s English Language Teacher from SS.1 to SS.3. She personally groomed him in the art of essay writing. She was a multi-talented cum award winning teacher. Just before her demise in 2012 she had bagged the award of the Best Teacher in the Federal Capital Territory, Abuja in 2011. This award saw her to China on a one month course. Her doctorate degree program at the University of Abuja was near complete when she passed on. If she had been alive, today would have been her 44^th birthday.