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After the Long Journey of PhD


In his hands was an address written on a small piece of paper by Dr Boko, a man whom Sadiq met at an event in Lagos few months ago. Sadiq was opportune to sit close to Dr Boko at the event which had a huge attendance including people from outside the shores of the country. Boko's eloquence, without more, spoke of his rare intelligence and intellectualism. 

Sadiq glanced at the small piece of paper to ascertain whether he was actually in front of the house whose address was given to him by Boko. There and then, the thought of how a conversation started between him and Boko at the event in Lagos, descended into his mind.

"Sir, could you tell me the name of the person speaking on the podium?" Sadiq curiously asked because he came in late as a result of the congested roads in Lagos. What added to his curiosity was the flawless flow of the speaker who was speaking about pan-Africanism and how, like a magnet, rolled up the attentions of everyone inside the extremely large hall.
"He is Professor Yakubu Kano." Boko answered without looking at him as his mind travelled far in the speech of the professor.
"Oh, he is even from my state." Sadiq said to himself but to the hearing of anybody sitting close to him. This suddenly captured the attention of Boko  and he asked Sadiq if he was also from Kano. The duo realised they came from the same city and were very happy. That was how the conversation and the relationship between them started. 

Boko's post-graduate studies robbed him so much of his time. His Master's Degree took him the period of five years to complete while his PhD took him eight years. He is now in his 50s and works in one of the richest mining companies in the country.

Sadiq remembered him in his grey over-size suit which, from the front, was complemented by a fat black neck-tie resting comfortably on his belly that looks like he would, in the next minute, begin labour. 

Sadiq looked at the paper again and then looked at the house. The address perfectly matched the location and number of the house. The house is a modern structure that situate at Nasarawa, GRA. He then knocked on the gate of the house which was instantly accompanied by barking of a dog from inside. 

A few minutes later, Dr Boko opened the gate and happily welcomed Sadiq. He led him into the compound that was floored with beautiful interlocking tiles, and then to the parlour. He sat down and looked everywhere but he observed there was nobody except Dr Boko and his books, newspapers and magazines stacked here and there in the parlour. 
"You're highly welcome, Mr. Sadiq. It gives me a great pleasure seeing you here. Of course, I wanted to visit you before you do same to me. How is your family, especially your cute son I saw on the screen of your phone while in Lagos?" Dr Boko asked with a fully spread mat of smile on his face.
"Everyone is fine, Sir. Thank you. It will be weird and un-Hausa for me to receive an elderly man as a visitor when I am able to take myself to him. Remember I turned 27 just last month." Sadiq humbly replied but with gusto of a young man.
"Hahaha... That's all right. Kudos to your parents! Before it escapes my memory, the white man says 'it is better late than never'. So, accept, please, my warm birthday wishes in arrears. Long life and prosperity." Boko said in his unnatural but quite impressive British accent that was punctuated by an elderly laugh.
"Thank you very much, Sir. I have brought a gift to your children. I know they are home now because it is a holiday." Sadiq asked innocently.

Like the disappearance of light from the Nigerian bulb, so the smile on the face of Dr Boko disappeared without notice. This injected into Sadiq's mind numerous thoughts and suspicions. He thought Boko's children, perhaps, all died in a calamity. He suspected he had no children probably because of reproductive system failure. But these were all erroneous.

"Em..em.. they're..em.. Ex..cu..se me." He stammered and started coughing.
"I am sorry, Sir." Sadiq said while trying to uncover a bottle of water for Dr Boko.
He drank the water, took a long breath and said:
"I am yet to get married."
"To your second wife?" Sadiq quickly asked.
"No. I have never married." He said in a voice spelling regret and continued:
"I have everything now. I am approaching my grave. Old age has already struck me but I don't have a single child. I regret my decision. Some of my friends who had the means got married right from the university while others immediately after the university. But on my part, I made a decision to marry only after I bagged my PhD. I had the means to marry that time but I viewed marriage as a distraction. Now, I am a Doctor of Philosophy without a family to complement me. I was appointed a commissioner by the governor last year, but upon knowing I am unmarried, he sacked me, saying I cannot stably and steadily work."

This unsettled Sadiq so much that his eyes became full of tears. He recalled how he was also about to make a similar decision after he finished his university but his father forcefully arranged for him a marriage. Few months to the marriage, he received a letter of employment in the Federal Ministry of Education. Currently, he is undergoing his Master's degree. He silently thanked and prayed for his late father for what he did to him.

"I am sorry, Sir. Nothing happens without Allah's ordainment. This may be a spiritual test of faith for you. It is your fate. You can still get married at your age and give birth to children." Sadiq sympathetically said.
"If I give birth at this age, my children will not forgive me because they would grow up fatherless. I will die before they grow up. Boko said hopelessly. 

After enormous effort, Sadiq succeeded in consoling and  persuading him to marry. They had a long conversation about Kano's politics and the event they attended in Lagos. Upon glancing at his wrist watch, it was 12:01pm. This reminded him of other people he scheduled to visit that day. He then stood up. Dr Boko accompanied him out and thanked him very much for the weighty visit.
FICTION 
By Abdul Mutallib Muktar
abdulmutallib.muktar@gmail.com

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