I had barely settled down at work on Monday, Sept 19, 2016, when the young man breezed into my office. It was an African visit: I was not expecting him; he walked in like he owned the space; his decibel level was above the standards officially approved for social interaction by the West.

I tell myself that taking ownership of the oxygen in a space into which you have walked in uninvited and operating at a high decibel level are golden markers of being Nigerian but I could allow the Ghanaian self of my visitor appropriate those attributes in the interest of pan-African sharing.

Truth be told, I was pleased by it all. After all, this was the Institute of African Studies and we are very particular about letting “the African thing” define that space and our modes of interaction. I was also extremely happy to see Obed Okyere. In the academic session, 2011-2012, Obed had made history here at Carleton University by becoming President of CUSA, Carleton Undergraduate Students Association: the first African student to be President of the students’ union.

His rise to undergraduate stardom meant that he became a ubiquitous presence on campus. I saw Obed everywhere. Then I went to Ghana for my sabbatical in 2014 and we lost contact. When I returned from Ghana, I naturally assumed that he had graduated and moved on from Carleton to greater things in life. I was therefore pleasantly surprised when I bumped into him on campus a few weeks ago. We did the usual African screaming on seeing each other, exchanged addresses, and he told me he’d email me to set up a meeting to explore scenarios at the Institute of African Studies. I assumed he was back for graduate studies and wanted to get into our collaborative masters program in African studies. After an initial admission into other programs, it is not unusual for African students to want to work with us at the Institute.

I never got the email to set up a meeting. Obed preferred an African walk-in. I liked it too. We got talking.

“So, Obed, which of our collaborative masters programs were you thinking of joining?”

“Masters? Prof, I am still an undergraduate. I have not graduated. But I do want to take courses in African Studies.”

My visitor could tell that I was getting confused. His undergraduate timeline wasn’t working for me. Besides, I had not seen him since I returned from sabbatical over two years ago.

“Obed, what’s going on o? Abi you took time off?”

“Yes, Prof, I took time off but I am back now to finish my final year of undergraduate studies.”

“Eeyah, Obed, why now? What happened? Did you need time to cool off after all the stress and pressure and politics of having been a student union leader for a year?”

“It was partly because of that, Prof. However, the main reason is that an opportunity arose for me to go and farm in Ghana and I needed to take it at the time.”

“Obed, I am not following you. You took time off to go and farm in Ghana?”

Now he was smiling. He knew I wasn’t imagining the scale of what he was talking about.

“Prof, I am not saying that I went to use hoe and cutlass in a small village farm o. I went back to establish a major farming project. My family is royalty and I came into substantial land. So, I tried to mobilize to use the land for large-scale farming. I spent my time in Ghana establishing a farm which now boasts one hundred acres of cashew trees and thirty-tree acres of pineapple.”

By now, the young man has my full attention. Here is an African millennial in his late twenties who has spent much of his life in the West, whose accent is fully Canadian, who returned to farm in Ghana! I grabbed my note pad and started to jot as he spoke.

“Ah, Prof, you are taking notes?”

“Obed, you don’t know anything at all you this boy. You imagine you are going to tell me such an inspirational story and I am going to keep it to myself? Your story is going to Facebook and Twitter. Your story is going to my columns. It is going to be read far and wide.”

“Really? Prof, you mean it? I have an inspirational story?”

“This boy, you don’t know anything. At your age, you have nearly one hundred and fifty acres of farm in Ghana and you are here asking me if your story is inspirational or not? Anyway, tell me more and I will tell you why your story is going public in my networks. I hope you don’t mind my taking pictures of you to accompany what I am going to write about you o?”

He poses for the camera. I ask him questions about his motivation, his support structure, how he got seed funding for the farm, where he intends to go with the whole thing. He is answering me brilliantly, his enthusiasm is boundless, his belief that there is no future for the African continent outside of modern 21st-century large scale farming powered by apps and innovation is infectious.

“So, Obed, basically you are telling me that whereas your peers in their 20s and 30s all over Africa and the African diaspora see apps and innovation in the context of glossy offices and spaces in modern skyscrapers in cool chic neighbourhoods in the city, you see apps and innovation in the farm lands in the villages of the continent? And you are still asking me why I need to tell your story?”

I’m not sure he heard me. He was too far gone talking about the opportunities he foresees for his farm; his ambition to export pineapple juice; a million things that could come from his 100-acre cashew plantation; other cash crops he could expand into, etc.

“So, Obed, why are you back at Carleton?” I asked him that question knowing that I would never encourage a millennial’s dreams, no matter how brilliant, if it did not include a minimum of a first degree.

“Well, Prof, after establishing the farm, I also told myself that I needed a knowledge base to feed my dreams. In fact, that is part of the reason I wanted to come and see you. I want to take courses in African studies. I want to expand my knowledge of the continent. I want to…”

By now, I was no longer listening. I was having difficulty restraining myself from hugging the young man.

“Obed, do you really want to know why I am jotting down your story like a student?”

“Prof, I’m still surprised by your excitement. I came to you for guidance and you are taking notes and I am doing all the talking.”

“Obed, such is life. The mentor is inspired by the story of his mentee. I’m afraid you are the teacher now and I am the student but this is one role reversal that I am grateful for. You just don’t have any idea, do you? You see, I have a huge followership among your generation in Nigeria. I mentor so many of them. And because of frequent trips and talks and teaching in Ghana and South Africa, I have also built a millennial followership in those countries. Useless politicians and visionless leadership have created a situation in which your generation across Africa sees success only when they are hired by politicians.”

“Ah, Prof!”

“Yes o, Obed. The situation is particularly terrible in Nigeria. Hardly any member of your generation can look into his or her future and see farming or talk about farming in such a knowledgeable, innovative, 21st-century app ecology as you have done here today. The future, for too many of your peers in Nigeria, is about being Personal Assistants to dirty politicians. It is not really their fault for such is the value system handed down to them by useless politicians and irresponsible public office holders. In fact, two months ago, I was in a situation where I saw a millennial like you in Abuja, a full-blooded Nigerian man with a proper penis between his legs, carrying the handbag of a female senator. You think I can tell that fellow that there is a future in farming without a story like yours as proof? You think I can tell him that farming is better than carrying the handbag or hand sets of a Senator?”

“Of course I know that this problem is also pervasive in Ghana, South Africa, Kenya and all over Africa where farming is still conceptualized as the synonym of “ peasant,” “ village,” “dirt,” “poverty.” No millennial with even a secondary school certificate wants to be associated with farming in Africa. From Kenya to Ghana, they’d rather hanker after useless politicans. Then, you, with all the opportunities you have here in Canada, with all your Canadian accent, your good looks, your cosmopolitanism, your looking every part the modern, 21st-century snapchatting, instagramming, and nightclubbing millennial, you just stood up and went back to Ghana to farm? And you are here in my office beating your chest, so proud of that choice in life? Obed, I must tell your story to motivate my young followers in Nigeria.”

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Op–ed pieces and contributions are the opinions of the writers only and do not represent the opinions of Y!/YNaija

Pius Adesanmi, a professor of English, is Director of the Institute of African Studies, Carleton University, Canada.