Meet My “Scholarship Father”
A Father’s Day Musings
The year was 1997 and I had just secured admission to the university of calabar (southern Nigeria) to study accounting.
But there was a big problem threatening to abort the dream.
I had no sponsor and so could not raise the tuition, and no idea how to survive on campus with no money.
By this time, I was frantically looking for help. I went everywhere I could think of. Without the benefit of Google, I managed to track down one of my late father’s business partners. The man confirmed he knew my father, confirmed they started the business together, and showed me photographs they took together in the 1970s. But he looked me in the eye and said, “Young man, I can’t help you. But go, your God will help you.”
I went to my village meeting (a Lagos based group of kinsmen) but they dismissed me quickly with a hint of sarcasm. It was obvious to everyone that I was overreaching by attempting to go to college.
Then a man who sympathized with my plight told me about another kinsmen association that might offer me a scholarship.
But the problem was that this group offered those scholarships to children whose parents were fee paying members of the group.
So the same man (bless him) took me to an elderly member of the group to seek counsel.
When the elderly man heard my story, he reiterated the scholarship rules.
And then he called his son to come to the sitting room, and introduced him. The boy was about my age or younger and was heading to the university too.
I got the message. His son needed that scholarship too, and the boy thoroughly deserved it because his father had been a fee paying member of the group.
Before I left with the bad news, the elderly man gave me his complimentary card and said, “meet me at my office on Monday”.
When the secretary ushered me into the man’s office, I didn’t know what to expect. After exchanging pleasantries, the man picked up a form from his table and handed it over to me.
My eyeballs nearly popped out of the sockets. I realized it was the scholarship guarantor form, duly attested with my name on it as the applicant.
The elderly man, Chief S.E. Bassey (God rest his soul) gave up his son’s scholarship slot for me. He stood as my guarantor/parent denying his own son the opportunity.
That princely scholarship sum increased from N3000 ($136 @ official exchange rate of the Gen. Abacha era) to N5000 ($227) per year before I graduated. This annual payout helped fund my investment in textbooks every year. I read those accounting and finance textbooks until I became a chartered accountant (actually triple chartered — ACCA, ICAN & CITN).
Fatherhood is not necessarily by blood. Real fathers are men who invest themselves in the next generation. Real fathers support dreams.
The man who gave me that rare and sacrificial chance for financial support was a father. He kept a dream alive.
Happy Father’s Day.
