…a story of dreams, detours and destiny
It was 1988 at Union Secondary School Awkunanaw, Enugu. I was Deputy Senior Prefect, one of the best Arts students in the school. English, English Literature, and Government were my playground. I proudly carried our school’s banner in quizzes and debates, earning trophies and, more importantly, the joy of wielding words—spoken, argued, written.
I was Editor-in-Chief of Union Spark, our school magazine. On stage, I was the lead actor and wore the tragic skin of Odewale in The Gods Are Not to Blame. Literature was my lifeblood.
While my mates stuck to class texts, I feasted on James Hadley Chase, Pacesetters, Sidney Sheldon. Tolstoy carried me into Russian snows, Dostoevsky made me wrestle with sin and redemption, Marx lit a fire in my belly. But Awolowo?
Awolowo made me believe in the power of a single, disciplined mind to change a nation. His My Early Life and Awo were not books to me; they were portals into a disciplined, purpose-driven mind I longed to emulate.
Awolowo’s journey from journalism to law became my blueprint. I interned at The Guardian, played with journalism, wrote furiously. His library of over 11,000 books set a personal ambition: to one day own more. I’m still on that quest.
My father, a proud Zikist, poured fuel on this passion. From SS1 through university, he gave me money daily for The Guardian, Newswatch, later Time magazine. He wanted me to be like Zik—a philosopher and politician—but also a lawyer like Awo. Thanks to him, I grew up reading far beyond any syllabus.
So when WAEC 1988 arrived, I walked in certain of my destiny. Literature was my “safe A.” But fate had other plans. That exam hall is still a haze. My mind blanked, even Achebe’s Arrow of God seemed to mock me.
When the results came, it was scandalous. I got As in all my strong subjects and only a Pass in Literature. The best Literature student in school… reduced to a whisper. I was mortified.
Still, I brushed it aside. I’d applied for Law and Literature wasn’t required yet. I got admission for Mass Communication. But my parents insisted: Law or nothing. They sent me to Foucos Tutorial College in Ebute Metta, Lagos—an expensive and upscale JAMB tutorial lesson. I passed. My dream was alive again.
Then the rules changed. Around 1989, the Council of Legal Education or NUC made Literature compulsory for Law. By 1990, UNN began enforcing it. I didn’t know the seriousness otherwise I would have changed to Unilag which did not enforce
I arrived Enugu that year clutching my admission letter, heart pounding. I marched into the Law Faculty like a man stepping into destiny. The Secretary to the Dean took my papers, scanned them, frowned.
“Do you have GCE?”
“No.” I responded.
“You don’t have Literature. We can’t register you.”
I smiled, eager. “I’ve registered for the Nov/Dec GCE.”
I stood there, clutching my WAEC result. My throat dry. My hands cold. The Secretary to the Dean looked up and said words that shattered my world:
He shook his head gently. “It won’t help. You had to be qualified at the point of admission.”
Just like that, my dream died.
My world collapsed in that dim office. For a week I haunted the Faculty, hoping for a waiver. Finally, Prof. Ilegbune, the Dean, a family friend, put a hand on my shoulder and led me to the Business School. He secured me a spot in Business Management.
I was crushed. My father’s eyes held disappointment he tried to hide. My mother promised we’d switch after my GCE. I wrote it, scored an A2 in Literature. But by then it was too late. To read Law, I’d have to start over from year one. It made no sense.
That night I lay awake, staring at the ceiling. Maybe I was not meant to be a lawyer after all. Maybe my father’s pride was misplaced. I felt small, ashamed, like I had failed not just myself but everyone who believed in me.
I was devastated. I skipped classes, loathed my department, felt I had failed everyone. By my second year, the bitterness slowly eased. I started attending lectures, but I often stared across at the Law Faculty with envy.
I didn’t know then that life had other plans. Sometimes, the detours we curse are actually the highways to our true calling. The study of Business Management would prove providential….
To be continued tomorrow.
Osita Chidoka
9 July 2025
