In 2011, I encountered one of the boldest teenagers I've ever seen, in Benin City. I was a serving Corps Member.
Her name was Itohan, and she was just 15.
I served at Edo State Oil and Gas Development Commission(EDSOGPADEC) around Sapele Road, and our PPA got us an accommodation along the same route. I met quite a good number of people who were already working there -- people like Emmanuel Osbo Comr.
Engr Obano -- Head of our Department -- decided to fetch 6 of us a three bedroom flat, which we shared 2 Corps Member to one room. The living room, two toilets and bath, and kitchen were general spaces.
On my second month in the city, a certain teenager saw me buying pepper in a kiosk along my street.
"Wetin man dey do with pepper?" she asked.
I pretended not to have heard her, because the tone presented itself as if it was saying "drop that pepper!"
When I was done buying, a teenage girl blocked my way.
"Hello, sorry you're blocking my way," I said, hoping that the hindrance her station point had become, was a mistake.
"So corper I dey call you yesterday, you dey do guy for me?"
I wanted to be sure my ears were not deceiving me, so I told her to repeat her statement.
"Sorry, please come again," I said, hoping that my ears were wrong.
It came a second time, and this period, with a more arrogant tone:
"Man no dey do guy for me o -- I be Itohan, and na me dey do guy for man."
I smiled, because I felt I might have been mistaken for some other person.
"Nne, what did I do wrong? I don't even know you."
"No dey nne me, I no be Ibo o -- I be Esan geh," she decried.
I apologized, and quietly asked her to a corner, where she made her points clear:
"Corper, I like you, but you no dey respond anytime I greet you."
I felt bad for her, and made her understand that it wasn't intentional. She offered to pay for the pepper, and I nearly laughed in disbelief. I disagreed with accepting her offer as proof that I won't ignore her again. I went home that day, and still didn't believe the event that played before me.
Subsequently, we started greeting each time our paths crossed. At a point, I noticed she was mostly outside whenever I'm heading homeward from my PPA. Sometimes, I'll take another route.
Itohan was very matured in appearance for a 15year old. She was as tall as I was, and her dress sense wasn't what you attribute to people of her age.
At some point, I started allowing her to visit, but we were always in the living room. I guess I consented to this, having been the cause of a certain despondent disposition of hers.
"Ito, the mama selling pepper said you've been sick; what's wrong?"
"Corper na you nah....."
She went on to lament on how I allowed fellow corpers to visit me, while I always told her that I don't like visitors. I felt it, and decided to accept her visits.
While one or two persons felt I should date her, I took her as my kid sister. While she kept making emotional/romantic statements to make me see how much she cared, I kept trying to channel her attention towards studies.
I found out she disliked her Chemistry and Maths teachers. I made her understand that it's hard to do well in any subject, if you bear grudges for the teacher. According to her, they preferred flogging girls in the buttocks -- she said it's more painful than receiving it with your hand.
I would drill her in Mathematics, Biology, and Chemistry. I remember when a fellow corps member laughed at me when he heard the tale of my being an "unpaid teacher" I laughed at myself too, but deep down, I knew it was a better diversion -- instead of accepting what the little girl wanted.
Even if I was to accept her idea of intimacy, she was just 15 -- having such with anyone less than 18 felt improper.
From making it a diversion, I found out that she improved in Maths and Chemistry. After Church service one certain Sunday, she told her classmate that I'm her lesson teacher. The boy begged me to allow him visit sometimes, and I agreed. "Itohan is good in Chemistry now," he exclaimed.
We attended the same Saint Gabriel Catholic Church, which was named after Gabriel Igbinedion , the Esama of Benin. They said he single-handedly built the church and he gave it as a gift to God in one of his birthdays.
Going by her preference of pidgin English, you would think she was an "ajekpako" or "street girl" or whatever word available for proper description -- you should know what I mean. But unknown to me, her father owned the most architecturally appealing structure, in the neighborhood. There was a popular name we called the house, but I'll skip that part for some reasons.
I found out she was an "ajebutter" or "daddy's girl" or whatever word available for proper description -- you should know what I mean. On a certain Sunday, on my way back from the church, her elder brother stopped along the road, and called on me to enter.
Itohan introduced me as one of her school teachers, while making the brother understand that the Responsorial Psalm he heard earlier that day, was done by me. I was amazed when they said the famous house was where they were entering. I had to drop, and trekked the remaining distance.
I became an "unpaid lesson teacher," to her and the other boy. The boy stopped coming because of distance, but said he would talk to his parents about paying me, so that I can be coming to their house.
Itohan wanted me to start coming to their house too, but I felt it was unnecessary -- even though I was to make extra money -- since I had one month left in Benin, as of the time of this decision of hers.
"Oxidation and Reduction" was the last thing I taught her in Chemistry. She cried the day I was leaving, and even had to steal a peck. A fellow corps member said I should carry her to Abia State, since she had given me the "Teacher of the year," Award.
We all laughed over it, as I prepared to travel. I gave her my Visafone line, for the phone containing my MTN line was faulty, and you cannot use an MTN line on a visafone phone.
Itohan called once every week, and kept telling me how she wished she had her own phone. She used public phone boots to call.
I lost my Visafone phone, and it was becoming hard to welcome the line back. And again, the company started having some issues, so I just abandoned the line.
Why did I remember this?
I met Itohan yesterday in Enugu after almost 10years! Yes, you heard me.
A neighbor wanted to link me up with a potential client, and the meeting point was crunches. When it became obvious that an emergency came up for the supposed client, and that he wouldn't make it, my neighbor felt it was proper to have something to eat.
"Just buy me water, and give me the money you want to spend on me please -- I have things to take care of," I told him.
Foolish me forgot that it was uncultured to behave in that manner.
He insisted that I must eat the food, after which he ordered, and we ate.
On our way back, I told him to stop at mkpokiti, because I saw someone that looked like a more matured Itohan. He needed to get back to his office, but I begged him to stop.
She was standing on the road, obviously waiting for a means of transportation. While approaching her, you could understand that a certain young man, who had walked up to her, had engaged her in some toasting sessions. So, I slowed my pace, in order to give him enough time to land. Before I arrived her station point, it became obvious that the young man wasn't successful, for she was shaking her head in negation to whatever he was saying. When he left, I hastened up to her.
"Hello Young lady," I greeted.
" And you are?" she asked, seeming angry for whatever the young man must have said.
"Ah it's you my dear -- you haven't changed," I added, feeling so happy.
"Sorry, do I know you?" she asked trying to put a name to my face.
"I am sorry Ito, this Corper is sorry!"
You needed to see how she screamed in the public. She gave me a strong embrace and didn't want to let go. My neighbor left his car and walked up to us, only for his ears to pick this:
"Corper A, it's unfair! It was very very unfair!!"
Onlookers must have wondered why that drama presented itself to them, but they'll never understand.
"You'll be proud of me now," she said, almost shedding tears.
"I'm studying medicine and surgery here, and I'm entering my finals -- I live with my auntie here," she added.
And yes I was proud of her. We exchanged contacts, for she was needed urgently at parklane for something. She had grown into a more beautiful girl, and her white school gown sat properly on her figure.
'I'm buying you lunch this weekend -- you can't tell me I'm a small girl again," she added while entering a keke.
In a long time, I haven't been happy like I was yesterday. My efforts were not in vain. I remember when she insisted on going into modeling after secondary school. I told her I have Music Ambitions, but it didn't stop me from going to school. I told her she could achieve both, and it was wrong to channel everything into modeling.
There are times we'll be faced with criticisms from people who think the right thing is outdated, but it's in our calling to prove them wrong. I'm just imagining myself taking advantage of her then -- I doubt if I would be proud of it today, when I look back. I wish those youth corpers were here to see her now. I was only encouraged by two Youth Corpers who felt I was doing the right thing.
*Sometimes, people cross our paths for us to turn them into something better -- not for us to exploit their vulnerability.
*And again, the world is really a small place.
Good afternoon.