ENCOUNTERS WITH F.G. OSHIN

I was about ten going eleven when He took me to purchase a mattress (pronounced ‘mattrass’ at home) and a leather box: My first time in a long row of shops displaying such ware. I saw many beautiful brands of the items of interest but I am a fledgling to appreciate how lean his paycheck might be. My interest was to acquire a fanciful mattress and a colourful leather box, his interest was to purchase durable items. On that note we disagreed and I showed the worst temper I could demonstrate with the best tantrum I could muster. Standbys tried to placate me but I flippantly rebuffed all entreaties. I was determined to go for the best or nothing option, He cuddled me, mouthed sweet nothings I couldn’t remember now, gave a juvenile promise that we will come back to pick items of my wish. I softened. He never brought me back for I was too occupied with studies and new life in the boarding school to hold him to his promise.

It was the third term of Class Three academic session. I have taken the liberty of the unsupervised freedom of the last week of that session. It was a session that we studied and were examined in fifteen subjects! How did we cope with our slender bodies and miniscule brains from Technical Drawing to Fine Arts, from Agricultural Science to History and Chemistry? When I reminisce over the sheer weight of such cranial input I wondered how we survived such academic drill as the curriculum demanded as pre-puberty thirteen year old boys and girls give and take those older or younger by plus or minus two years. Well the giddiness of the time when our teachers were busy marking scripts upon scripts and we were left to our own devices as the monstrous seniors had left the school having finished writing their Ordinary Level School Certificate Examinations and their successors some of whom were doubtful of promotion to Form Five- the final year, a fleeing thought captured my attention and I gave it wings. By the middle of the week, I was on my way to Lagos without a soul apart from mine knowing my destination and mission.

 That flight or rather trip caused not a little commotion. The school upon enquiry advised that I will definitely come home after enjoying the holidays for it is unthinkable that I would have suffered a mishap or been kidnapped which was very rare in those days. The school assurance was premised on the fact that the little boy who came first overall could not be a bad boy. How prescient!  That comforted him in no small measure, a well deserved prize for his sole sponsorship of my education. After two weeks I returned home to bluff my way to his affection and even extracted a little apology for threatening to report me to the Police for a case of missing boy. We never discussed that episode, never.

It was during the vacation of 200 Level at a very great University that we had an encounter again. I am determined that my school for the final year should not suffer any delay or story as we are wont to say now. I told him we were to pay amount X. He doubted me. And to cast the suspicion out He maneuvered me to the School to confirm. He was told that indeed the school fee was X and not Y as he imagined but that it was not yet due until the School resume. I threatened not to follow him to the house. He cuddled me and said he was sorry and the matter ended there never to be exhumed again.

Our encounters few and far between took a turn for the better when I left home for the mature world of work at twenty-three. He prayed for me and blessed me. He saw me off with a package. I embraced him. He was happy I could stand on my own with a First Class Honours and Excellent Grade in Master’s Degree. He was delighted to release me from the brood. I never looked back and never made any further financial demands.

Years passed, circumstances changed. I took on higher family responsibilities, cut my professional teeth and stood very modestly on my own. He watched in awe as I struggled to eke out a living. He concurred with my parsing his suggestion to make a career in the Civil Service which he meritoriously served as a Teacher, Secretary, Internal Auditor, Magistrate and finally as Rent Tribunal Member for my beloved State. He opined that I have no gut for the sleaze that is characteristic of the Service. He commended my faith and dedication to the professional path I was charting single-handedly and wished me God speed in my endeavours. He was concerned about a particular matter of the heart and discreetly asked if any health issue was responsible. I was not quite forthcoming in granting him ears to discuss the matter. He somewhat left me alone with the conviction that God’s time is the best.

Years passed. Circumstances changed. He visited me severally on occasions of having something to do or keep appointment in the City and appraised me of events back home. He told me of his mother passing on and the demise of a grandchild. He commended my library stock as greater than his and borrowed a Christian Daily Devotion. To my shame and regret I gave him a definite time to return it which he graciously did though would have preferred to retain it. He was very elated when I bought and sent to him ‘’ The History of the Yoruba by Reverend A. Johnson and one Hymnal. He made very pretty little financial demand knowing full well how I otherwise support the family.  Though we were not chatting buddies, He loved me in a unique way that I feel and greatly understood as his beloved progeny and a standard bearer for the family name. On a particular day in April of a particular year, He called me, his voice changed and very shrill but audible told me he was sick and I replied that God will heal him and requested that we speak together but  he quickly put a caveat that he knew I was busy. On May 25 of that year, weakened by the toil of age, he called me and I told him I have transferred a little sum to his bank account. He said he was yet to spend the last money I sent. We bided bye on the phone and I wished him good recovery. Three days later he slept surrounded by some siblings and relatives. He was F. G. Oshin. He bequeathed me with the name K.S. Oshin. May 28, 2019 marked the tenth year anniversary of his call to glory. He was my father. We missed his wise counsel, gentle but firm discipline and unequivocal moral support. No child was ever disciplined without him cuddling that child thereafter and making up with the child until the child ended crying or sulking and smile away from his presence. Though he suffered normal headache and parental stress of bringing up recalcitrant siblings he never allowed the sun to set before settling any familial issue. A proud licensee of AK 47since the ‘60s, apart from bird hunting on family trips he never aim the gun on human being nor any occasion calling for it3 to the best of my knowledge.  He left us not great riches or inheritance but a good incorruptible name and goodwill of his subordinates, colleagues, superiors and associates. He was loved by his neighbours, respected by his community and dedicated to his Church to the very end. Adieu Francis Gbolahan Oshinkeye. Omo okokolobo ojo n pari. Sleep on peacefully until we meet to part no more.