Dennis Izuchukwu Ezeogu: Beautiful memories [Nigerian Voices]

by Dennis Izuchukwu Ezeogu

Some say butterflies inhabit the insides of tense and anxious people. But that night, sitting in the front row of the Conference Hall of the Jossy Royal Hotel in Jos, I felt like my stomach was witnessing wave after wave of airstrikes. Though my gaze was fixed on the stage, I did not hear the coordinator’s address; my mind was trying to work out the possibility of my getting a prize, consolation or not. Turning back, I could see my English teacher, Mrs. Ike, smiling and chatting with the other teachers. Our eyes met as she turned. She waved. I forced a smile and turned to face the stage again.

It was the award ceremony of the North Central edition of the 2008 Maltina Reading Competition. The Conference Hall was only half full since only the thirty contestants – five from each of the six states in the North Central geopolitical zone – and their teachers were present for the ceremony. The contestants occupied the first 3 rows of seats while their teachers filled up the seats behind them. The tension in the air at that moment was almost palpable.

Sitting beside me, was Barau Sani, representing Kwara State and with whom I shared a room in the course of the competition. We had grown to be really good friends in the short time we had spent together. With my peripheral vision, I could see him turn to me. I turned to him and smiled encouragingly. He smiled back and turned to listen to the coordinator, Mr. Mark Atabor’s speech.

I gave my mind leave to wander through the memories of the events of the past few days. The buildup to the competition had been really stressful. The fact that many of my fellow contestants seemed to be more knowledgeable than I was in the relevant subject matter did not help my case. Calmly, I turned to survey the array of scholars I had had the honour to cross blades with in intellectual combat. Most of them were already in SS2 while Barau and I were part of the few in SS1. A wave of pessimism washed over me and I tried to prepare myself for the worst. I thought of my mother and how supportive she had been. I had only wanted to repay her for her encouragement by winning a prize. My successes and triumphs had a way of making her shine with joy no matter how unhappy she was. With her around, I didn’t need to celebrate anything; she could celebrate and jubilate enough for five people. I would just seat back and watch her in raptures. I wanted to make her proud again.

Sani tapped me lightly on the wrist. Roused from my thoughts, I could hear Mr. Atabor telling the audience that only the best five students were to be called out. They would go on to represent the North Central geopolitical zone in the finals in Abuja. Only the best three, however, were to receive cash prizes. I held my breath while he called the third and fourth runners-up to the stage. My heart, already beating fast, seemed to developed a mad rhythm.

Mr. Atabor called out the second runner-up. It was not me. I tried my best to smile at Sani as he stood up to collect his prize. Smiling, he gave me a thumbs up and marched up the stage. I waited for the announcement of the first runner-up, tears slowly forming in my eyes.

After giving a summary of the first runner-up’s performance in the competition, Mr. Atabor called out his name. It was not mine. By now, I was trying to hold back the tears as they sought to spill over my eyelids. All hope was lost, I thought. I knew Mom would not be disappointed. But I had wanted to make her face shine again.

Visibly sad, I almost did not hear Mr. Atabor as he spoke about the winner’s sterling performance. My eyes lit up when he said the winner was in SS1. Maybe it’s one of those other bright lads, I thought pessimistically. Then he said,

“…representing Plateau State, the winner is Dennis Ezeogu! He has won the star prize of fifty thousand naira and two hundred thousand naira worth of books for his school library. A round of applause for him please!”

I was shocked to my bones. And pleasantly so. In a reflex show of joy, I jumped to my feet, my clenched fists high in the air. It all felt unreal. It all felt new. And truly, it was new. I was not used to being the best. Every other event of the evening passed in a blur. I hardly heard the applause. The congratulations offered me by my fellow contestants were barely heard as I was high with euphoria, my head in the clouds.

On getting home the next day, I decided to play a prank on Mom. Wearing a sad countenance, I walked into the living room and greeted her. As soon as she saw me, she came to me, concern written all over her face.

“Izu, what happened? Why do you look so sad? You didn’t win?”. Her voice was so soothing. I could not hold the good news in any longer.

Substituting my sad face for a grin, I turned to her and spilled everything. And true to her sweet nature, she let out a loud “Praise the Lord”. Her face beamed with joy as she repeatedly hugged me while calling me all the sweet names she could remember. A satisfied look took possession of my face as I watched the woman I called Mom dancing in the living room.

That was seven years ago. Mom passed away five years ago. Looking back at my most beautiful memories – most especially those I have of Mom – one notion repeatedly comes to mind: that the happiest thing about happy moments is the people we share them with.


This entry was submitted as part of the Nigerian Voices competition organized by YNaija.com.

We publish, un-edited, Nigerians telling the stories of their everyday lives. Read all the narratives daily on the Nigerian Voices vertical. You can also contribute your own story titled ‘Nigerian Voices’ to [email protected].

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