And I met an okada rider... (2)

I prefer to take a straight bike from Gbagada to my house in Shomolu because it’s cheaper than a cab and faster than two or three buses. So the natural choice mode of transportation when I left my business partner’s house was an okada. (By the way, someone wisely advised me the other day to stop calling those machines ‘bikes’, because we’re in Nigeria and the only way I can communicate with the regular biker on the street is to call him an okada man.) So here goes.

I left my partner’s house in the company of a budding artist whom we employed to produce some paintings for the job we’re working on. In typical Nigerian fashion, the guy studied to get a degree in Public Administration, all the while burning with his passion for art. Fortunately for him, no one employed him upon graduation, so he turned to his first love. I probably need to paste a picture of his work on this page to describe the quality of his work to you. This guy is good, but as is to be expected, unsung and underpaid. Not surprisingly, the guy has serious plans to take his art outside the shores of this country at the very first opportunity he gets – he believes his talent will be more celebrated by strangers. Only time and experience will prove the validity or otherwise of his theory, but that is not the issue at hand now.

As we walked he intimated me about his challenges – people unwilling to pay, dwindling resources, rising responsibilities, etc, etc. I did my best to encourage him to forge ahead with his passion in spite of all the odds. I was so passionate about encouraging him that I pulled out my jotter to show him something I had scribbled from a magazine earlier in the day. The publication showcased 40 of the most accomplished African-American people in various categories; the likes of Dr. Benjamin Carson, the hunky Denzel Washington, Condoleza Rice, Oprah Winfrey, Colin Powell and many others I had never heard of before. One of such people was Maya Angelou, a writer. It was her piece of advice I had written down earlier in the day and now wanted to share with my artist friend: “Don’t make money your goal. Instead pursue the things you love doing, and do them so well that people can’t take their eyes off you. All other tangible rewards will come as a result.”

The reason I was so passionate about encouraging him is simple – I was not about to let yet another promising young Nigerian lose faith in himself and his potential. Too many brilliant minds have gone down that way, and something in me refused to stand by watching the numbers rise by this one person. Anyway, we talked until I waved down a bike and said to the rider, “Morocco Road”. To my surprise the artist let out an exclamation of, “Ah, it’s you!” and shook the okada rider vigorously – apparently they knew each other. For the next couple of minutes they exchanged pleasantries and asked after each other’s welfare. My first instinctive thought was, “What is this refined young man doing with this rough, illiterate okada man?” Well, not exactly in those words, but definitely along those lines. And then I answered my question myself: perhaps they happen to live in the same neighbourhood / area and have had to become friendly out of the necessity created by proximity.

Well, I bade my friend goodbye and climbed behind the okada rider – all I cared about was him getting me to my destination. We rode on in comfortable silence for a while, and I was startled when he suddenly asked me, ‘I hope you’re enjoying your ride.” Two things caught me off-guard. One was the fact that he bothered to ask me that question at all. In all my bike-riding history, and that must be at least 10 years now, no rider has ever bothered about the comfort of me, his passenger. They are just interested in whisking me off to my destination amidst bumps and traffic, and picking up the next faceless passenger as soon as they can. The second oddity of the situation was that the bike rider spoke impeccable English, Queens English if you like. Now, I know almost everyone in Nigeria speaks English in one form or the other, but this man’s brand of English was to English to be coming from a typical okada man, if you know what I mean.

In response to his question, I laughed and told him I was enjoying it as much as is possible with all the bumps and potholes. I really can’t remember what he said in response to that, but I was so taken aback by the guy’s speech and etiquette that I had to ask, “Please forgive my stepping out of line, but do you do anything else apart from this?” To which he replied, “Oh, yes – I work in a ministry during the day. I only ride this bike after office hours.” From then on, it seemed like I had opened a tap inside the guy. Before I could ask him what ministry that was, he said, “But apart from the work I do, I have a greater passion, something that is the real me.” As you can imagine, my surprise was growing in leaps and bounds. When I asked him what it was that he spoke of with such obvious conviction, his answer was straightforward: “Music.” He launched into a lengthy discourse of how people allow themselves to be intimated by present circumstances and the things life throws at them. “The only thing that cannot be taken away from you is your dream”, he said.

His dream is to become a celebrated musician, composing and singing inspirational songs. His goal is to reach out to the untapped potential in people through music, to sound the message that ‘a hero lies in you’, in the words of Mariah Carey. His brand of music, he says, is neither secular nor gospel. Not secular because there’s too much crap out there already that does not make sense, and not exactly gospel because he wants to produce something everyone can relate to. His mission is clear – no matter what you do or don’t believe in, you’re first and foremost a human being with potential that more often than not goes undiscovered and untapped. His mandate is to awaken those giants slumbering within the hearts and minds of Nigerians, young and old.

To this end, he has produced a demo – an abridged collection of some of his songs - but he hasn’t yet taken it to any recording company. Why? Well, according to him, he’s still in the process of preparation. Preparation plus opportunity, he said, is the secret of success. Now, that is the kind of stuff motivational speakers talk about. Much of what he said that evening was too profound for an ‘ordinary’ okada rider to even understand, let alone say. I was just thinking to myself that this guy might actually function better as a motivational speaker when he said, “Many people tell me I sound like a motivational speaker when I talk. But I’ve told God that whether it is true or not is not an issue with me; he should just establish me as a musician first. That’s the only thing I want to be.” Wow!

I can’t tell you how much I learned from that okada rider that night. I found myself wishing I had a tape recorder to capture all that was flowing from him. So much so that when we got to my house (remember he was carrying me from Gbagada to Shomolu), he alighted from his bike, parked it in one corner and continued speaking for the next forty or so minutes. We were there for so long that a nosy neighbour who apparently thought something had gone really wrong (why on earth should I be gisting with an okada man?) came to me and asked if everything was okay. I told her yes, I was just chatting with the okada rider who happened to be my friend. I’m not sure she was totally convinced by my answer, but she had little choice because I turned back to the guy to continue talking, or rather, listening. You see, I had to listen.

Here was a guy who had every cause to complain about his lot in life. Little money, nobody to help, frustrating environment, irresponsible government, the list could go on. But he refused to bow down to circumstances without, because he understood that what he carries within him is far greater than any external situation. In the course of our conversation he stated that while it is true that the Nigerian government is a major contributor to the country’s problems, it ultimately lies in the hand of every person to redeem his or her own destiny. He is doing that for himself by working two jobs, at least one of which most people would term undignified. But he doesn’t care, for that is the path he must tread to reach his destination. He was forced to drop out of university some time ago due to shortage of funds, but he is scrimping and saving from the proceeds of his jobs to enable him go back, and also to provide him with the capital he needs to produce his album. His is a journey on what I would describe as a road less travelled, especially by young Nigerians today.

Of course, all of us are not born to the same privileges in life; some definitely find the journey tougher than others. But while we cannot choose where we are born, we can choose what we become. I think we all have lessons to learn from the okada man. He has not let his present circumstances deter him from setting his sights on his goal and keeping his dream close to heart. And at the same time, he is realistic and unrelenting enough to take practical steps to help him overcome the obstacles on his way. Many people in his shoes would be bitter at someone or the other – for the typical Nigerian the target would be the government. But this guy does not even seem to be aware that the government exists. He is too wrapped up with what is happening inside of him to notice whatever is not happening around him. Government or no government, he won’t be stopped. I have a gut feeling that if he persists with his attitude and focus, someday soon you’ll be voting Godwin – that’s his name – onto the top of the music charts, and only a few of us will know the story of what he went through to overcome.

I know you may never have the privilege of meeting Godwin like I did. But I hope that by sharing with you my encounter with him you have learned something from him. I certainly have. In closing, I’d just like to give a piece of advice: Be nice to everyone you meet; there is always more to every human being than meets the eye, even though the person himself may not know it. Now I know that not every okada rider is an okada rider… the one that carried you this morning may just be your next President. Watch out!