THE ENGLISH MAN.

THE ENGLISH MAN

At first, I perceived him as my enemy, as did my colleague. When you regarded him with a greeting he responded with silence or a frown, not once, not twice. He had these knocked knees that he threw around like his pride when he walked out or into the ENGLISH lab that accommodated unfriendly dust. I pictured his face one day as the image of the un-wiped whiteboard occupying space in the lab. The board had many inscriptions on it that were quite ugly; like drawings of an amateur. It just hung there, representing a deceitful notion of facility needed. 

He would resume very early every weekday. His black shadow (computer bag) would sit on his desk signifying his presence when he left to teach a class. This black shadow suited a computer engineer or a lawyer, but certainly not an English teacher. I remember once picturing him in a suit and a tie, or a range rover sport. I had to perish the thought though because I wouldn’t know if he’d ever smile even in such prestigious moments. I was brought back to the life of his brown/wine/ cream striped long sleeve shirt that was always searching for the right position on the body of its owner. It was never comfortable enough even if it was assisted by a brown/black pant that should have retired long ago. They managed to cover nakedness. I knew I had seen those shoes somewhere before. Once, I visited a market and I witnessed how shoes were graded. The lowest grades were mostly brown-washed with soles ready to survive even in the heat of hell. Yes, I had seen those shoes and now, they were even closer to me than the ones in the market. 

There was a showdown one day in school according to what I got from my colleague in my absence. It was a match between the old and the young, the Yoruba and the Igbo, the man and the woman. I still look back and wished I had got a front seat. My colleague, who also shared the same office as we did although she was an Agric teacher, could not tolerate his insolence anymore. She had greeted him that morning and as usual, he had answered with the silent treatment and a demeaning look. Being a mother of two and someone's wife, my colleague took it to heart and started yelling at the top of her voice, asking if she had ever hurt him in any way to treat her as such and calling him a shameless old man who was always chasing her in her dreams with a cutlass. The principal heard of this fracas as well as the teaching staff. They suggested she left for the science lab and commented: “he is a weird fellow, maybe he is frustrated.” My Colleague decided to move to the art lab instead because she saw the occupants of the science lab as gossips. From there on out, we seldom saw one another. What to do, I had to figure out a way to solve this “he” riddle for I was going to be seeing his face for a while until my service year came to an end. What to do?

Someone once said that if you tagged everyone badly, maybe you should check yourself; you just might be the rotten egg. So, I cooked up a plan of always greeting him with a smile on my face, speaking all the Queen’s English Dr Adeoye had taught me in school, for I had stopped greeting him for a long time. For a week I tried currying his favour; engaging him in political and academic discussions, asking about his educational background and that entire trick. Yes, it worked perfectly, to my detriment. I should have just let a sleeping dog lie!!! At first, he would only speak about his primary education which he said was accomplished in Ghana in the 1950s… He would condemn the Nigerian way of using the English language and call it barbaric. I remember once when he called the word “glutton” and pronounced it using his Ghana accent. He asked me if I understood or knew the word he was referring to and I said yes; someone who likes to consume, mostly food… that was the beginning of a boring friendship. From there on out he would repeat continuously his days as a bank manager and how the bank went under and he lost his job. In his words:

“Corper, you know, I wasn’t always an English teacher. In fact, I was a bank manager; here is my card, look at it. I worked with Prosper Bank and I was a manager and I controlled you know, lots of money. Getting a brand new car was no big deal for me because we loaned car dealers lots of money so sometimes they just give most managers new cars to pay at any given time. Plus I was very good at my job and everyone recommended me so I just kept on moving up the ladder. 

But you know this country of ours. “If you cannot beat them, you join them or you stay away from them.” I was not going to embezzle funds given to me to manage while I worked with the bank. You know, even those below me so embezzled that now they have their own houses, established businesses and range of cars. I, well, I wasn’t brought up like that. I am from a strong Muslim family even if I have now converted to Christianity. You know, I was actually a bank manager so I’ve seen lots and lots of money that I can’t even begin to explain it to you (laughs)… You won’t understand. So when the bank went under, eh, it was a big blow to me. I had to dust my certificate: a BSC in Economics, to get a teaching job. 

Do you know that the principal of the school where I was eventually employed, when she heard my good use of the English Language, suggested I teach English and even help in marketing some English books for upcoming writers…Yes. So after school hours, I would visit other schools, bookshops and all to market English textbooks and even Literature textbooks. One day, one of my customers (laughs), you know, she heard the way I was singing odes to a particular book and she asked where I had my primary education. I told her in Ghana and she said she thought as much because I really sounded like a native speaker of English. Corper, do you know that was how I was recommended to many parents who wanted an English tutor for their children…. Yes. I started taking these children and many of them now are even done with their university education. In fact, I met one recently, I could not even recognize him. He actually called me and had to describe how he met me and how I had taught him English which helped him in making his WAEC. Oh the joy I felt is still indescribable (laughs)”

There was something in his laughter that made one feel sorry for him and at the same time, it triggered a little anger in me. It was somewhat mocking. Whenever he showcased those yellowish teeth of his, the tribal marks on his face became broader; they formed a bridge-like imagery, you know, one about to collapse. He told me this bank story over and over again once he saw me seated in my chair, even when I was obviously occupied with school work. When I adopted a method of telling him I had been told the story by him before, he also adopted a method of telling me about a cousin of his and how they schooled together at the university, and how this cousin was given a scholarship to study abroad and how the cousin is now a professor in one of the prestigious schools in Nigeria, and can also go back abroad to teach for he was loved much over there. “You know if I had known I would have switched to the English Language while at the university because all my classmates told me I had a flare in English. In fact, I used to help even English students back then to edit their project works. But when I was given an opportunity by the school authority to switch courses, I decided to stick with Economics because of the prestige that came with it, compared to the English Language. I am planning to visit my cousin you know, yes. He is a big boy now. He teaches in one of the prestigious schools in Nigeria and he is a professor. I will visit him one of these days. I’m sure he might not even recognize me again. Eh, I will visit him (laughs).”

I started developing this dread for that office. The moment he stepped in, endless stories began. Even the Literature teacher got tired of hearing the same stories day by day. Reader, you’d wish that was the end of his repetitions but no…he now wanted to return to the university for a second degree, English. 

“You know, Corper, I so much like the way you use the English language and I’ve been thinking. In fact, I have made a decision to go back for a second degree and it will be in the English Language. What do you think? It’s a great idea isn’t it?”

Now my skin crawled whenever he showed his teeth. He was so proud of his achievements that my polar answers did not bother him at all, or my bowed head or my earpiece in my ears or the Literature Teacher coming with a sound system to keep the lab loud but not with the old man’s voice. None of these bothered him. I was not going to be a dream killer so I provided him with the necessary information about being an English undergraduate. At the back of my mind, I pictured him being in class with other students way younger… would they be ready to listen to his gory tales, or witness his proud laughter, or stand the way he ate? Ah, he ate like Tom in the cartoon Tom and Jerry. He would chew on his food like a child who did not want his meal to get finished with sounds coming out of the art of eating. Would they also give him their projects to edit or would they recommend that he studied Psychology this time? I would not want to know about all that though. 

The last I saw of him was him cursing at a student.

“You are very stupid and dirty. Look at you. How dare you come into this office with your sandals on! Just get out, useless boy. Hey, give me the sachet water I sent you idiot before leaving! Ahhh did you have to hold it at the rim with those dirty hands of yours?” He did that all the time. That’s how he got all his fury and frustrations out. I saw him no more like an enemy as my colleague did. I saw through him now and the image spurred pity. Maybe one day he would get what he wanted or deserved. Maybe other Corpers after me would see him as a deranged old man, or an enemy. Maybe he would get to visit his cousin and things would just work out fine. Maybe Mr Yusuf was one of those who had the American dream, in Nigeria. 

A Shared Experience. 

Don't Forget to be Honest!

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