Letter from Cambridge

I left Lagos on a Virgin Atlantic flight on Friday June 27th. My wife had left the previous morning. I was seated in “premium economy”-the section on Virgin flights where those who would like to fly upper class but can’t afford it are! I have long stopped regarding flying in business class as luxury-it is virtually a necessity especially on trans-Atlantic flights given my work schedule, stress levels and the acute inconvenience sitting in economy has become. I fly business whenever I can afford it, when the trip is business-related (and invariably paid for) or when I’m just too tired to absorb the squeeze of economy. This time I don’t feel rich enough so I go premium economy. An airline official politely informs me she will like to change my seat in order to seat a family together. I consent and move my belongings to the re-assigned seat where I happen to be next to Senior Toye! At Igbobi College once a senior, always a senior(!) even though he was just one year ahead of me more than thirty years ago! When I look back at the seat I left however I find two white men! Were they a family (these days, two 45 year old British men can be a couple!!!) or did the airline play a fast one on me? The young, male, black, air “hostess” is obviously gay and since my friend is wearing a pink shirt, he gets a lot of attention from the steward! I put reflections on the “progress” of western civilization out of my mind and concentrate on the book I’m reading-“Slavery, Terrorism and Islam” by Peter Hammond, and occasional conversation with my neighbor. We duly arrive Heathrow and I refocus on my mission to England. It was a nice and comfortable flight and I make a mental note to fly Virgin Atlantic more often. I had decided to go to Cambridge by coach. My daughter has been at the University of Cambridge for the last three years and is graduating the day after my arrival. She has been a remarkable student-Nigeria’s best student in WAEC School Certificate Examinations in 2009 with straight As in all eight subjects offered; prize winner during her a-levels at probably Britain’s best girls school, Wycombe Abbey; and admission to read law at the venerable Cambridge University. Her graduation is an epoch for our family and we are proud, but most importantly grateful to the one who made it all possible, the Almighty Father. I’m additionally happy because those fees are over for now, at least in respect of Simisola! The coach ride to Cambridge is three hours long, but pleasant. I take note of the towns and villages we pass along the way. I wanted this “last” journey to Cambridge by coach precisely for that purpose. My most memorable trip to America has been the 14 hour drive from New York to Chicago with my elder brother years ago. I arrive Cambridge at night and I join my wife at the local Holiday Inn. Soon my two UK-based daughters join us and we have a family dinner before the graduand leaves for her Cambridge Hall for the last night of her undergraduate years. That night I reflect on the pleasurable coach ride from Heathrow to Cambridge and the 14 hour drive through five US states and wonder why we can’t do the same on Nigerian roads? Why were the roads good throughout the trip? How come we didn’t come across any police checkpoints? Or local government revenue collectors, armed robbers or vast traffic hold-ups? Why can’t we organize our country and our lives in Nigeria and Africa? And why do we have to spend so much money sending our children to school in other countries? I fell asleep very happy at the grace of God upon my family, but wondering why our country has so spectacularly frittered away God’s abundant grace upon our land? And reflecting on God’s scattering of those building the Tower of Babel-Does God by any chance regard Nigeria as a similar tower of man’s vanity? The next morning we join the procession into the Senate Hall at Cambridge, everyone displaying their invitation cards before admittance. Four colleges are graduating students that morning and we are lucky my daughter’s college, Fitzwilliam is going first. I am shocked to find out that we are the only black family in the hall and we are conspicuous in our difference! Simisola is the only black or African of the 150 or so students graduating from Fitzwilliam College and she estimates that perhaps one percent of Cambridge students are black! There are numerous Chinese, Indians, Asians, Jews, Americans and Europeans, but only one African! I have a similar experience when I attend the annual Strategic Management Society meetings in Europe or America-only 3% of attendees are from Africa! I am reminded that Africa is not sufficiently generating the quality of knowledge required to transform the continent, and may be peripheral in global thinking for another fifty years! The ceremony itself is short, but full of history and tradition-students come out in groups of four so that each can hold a finger of the College Praelector, Professor Sir Anthony Bottoms; each student steps forward, bows and kneels before the College Master, Nicola Padfield; who recites a short sentence in Latin admitting the graduate to degrees; and receives the certificate from a nearby official. Each graduate performs this ritual and the ceremony is over-no speeches! We take photographs outside on the lawn and then proceed to Fitzwilliam College grounds for lunch. My younger daughter is passing out from her a-levels studies about twelve days later, so it makes sense to take a family holiday in Paris before returning to Winchester for Fiayo’s school leaving! Unfortunately my son, Tofi misses out-he’s in university in the US taking summer courses.