Against the Odds. Ben Igwe
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believed that had to do with their ancestral name, Aludo, which meant land of peace. Villagers could hear the sounds of heavy military artillery like mortar shells from the faraway city of Umuahia. One time a fighter jet plane flew over Father Murrow’s house but dropped no bomb. The two-storied building had a huge Red Cross sign painted on the zinc roof. Apart from one letter Jamike received from Laski before the war broke out, the two friends lost touch for the duration of the war. In the meantime, Laski had gone on to the Pennsylvania State University to get a doctorate degree in science education and began teaching at Regius State College in rural western Pennsylvania.
When the civil war ended, Jamike received Laski’s letter inquiring whether he made it through the war. He was worried about his friend because of horrible pictures of the war on television and news stories from Voice of America. These and the images that appeared in magazines and newspapers, gave Laski concern for his friend. Soon correspondence was re-established between them. Shortly after their renewed contact, Laski informed Jamike that he was leaving for a two-year teaching contract in Okinawa, Japan . For about six months, Jamike did not hear from Laski. Once he settled in his new teaching position, Laski wrote Jamike, and their correspondence continued until Laski returned to the United States.
Not long after Jamike began teaching, Mr. Ahamba suggested that he inquire from older and more experienced teachers in the school about the correspondence courses some of them were taking from Woolsey Hall and Rapid Results College in London, England. These courses prepared one who did not attend or finish high school to sit for the Ordinary Level of the General Certificate of Education examinations as an external candidate. He urged Jamike to start such a course so that after he passed the necessary examinations, he could move up to become what was called a pivotal teacher with a high school equivalent and a teacher’s training certificate. It would enhance his status and prestige. Two years later, Jamike obtained the General Certificate of Education in four subjects: Economics, British Constitution, English History, and Government.
Laski returned to Regius two years later. Not quite three months after he was back in Regius, Jamike received an application package that included forms for tuition remission for Regius State College.
Fate was about to smile again on both Uridiya and her son in a way that would marvel the village. No one believed that the little boy who walked about naked in the village, hunted rodents, chased rabbits and squirrels wherever he sighted them, and who many didn’t think would survive ill health as a child, would one day become a teacher. And little did they think that Jamike would be the one to make the village proud, for he would now travel to America to further his education. He would be the first in his village to set out on an educational mission to a land that the most imaginative villagers could only dream about ―a land they had only heard by name, a fairyland, America.
Five
A week after Jamike studied the various documents in the application package, he made his first trip to a major city. A bicyclist took him to Umuahia Township from where he joined a lorry to make the three-hour journey to Enugu, the capital of Eastern Nigeria, the location of the United States Information Services (USIS). The three hours that the trip took did not seem long for Jamike, because he was able to see other towns and villages as well as changing vegetation as they rode through. The villages along the road were bustling with activities. At each stop, hawkers pestered motorists and passengers alike with all kinds of edibles in baskets and enamel trays carried on their heads. Enugu was bewildering to Jamike. The many people on the streets, the roads, electric poles, big and tall buildings, and the hustle and bustle mesmerized him.
The motor park where he was stopped seemed in a state of confusion with too many people moving in all directions; traders had their wares displayed up to the roadway, taxi drivers hustled passengers and everyone seemed to be pushing and shoving their way through. When Jamike finally made his way out of the motor park, he took a taxi to the United States Information Service. The Information Officer whom Jamike met readily made handbooks, brochures, and other materials for foreign students going to the United States for studies available to him. He learned about the necessary steps and requirements for obtaining a student visa and where the United States Embassy was located in Lagos. Jamike went through different college catalogs and handbooks that gave him information about student life in an American college. He spent close to three hours in the library before he returned to Umuahia.
Three months following his application, Jamike received an admission letter along with the Eligibility Form I-20 that would enable him obtain a student visa to the United States. Also in the package was approval for his application for tuition remission scholarship. He planned a trip to the United States embassy in Lagos, Nigeria’s capital city, for the following week.
About five o’clock on a Sunday evening, he set out for Lagos. The headmaster and Jamike rode two miles on a bicycle to the major road to catch the night bus. The headmaster judged that since Jamike had no where to pass the night in Lagos, his best bet would be to take a night bus so that he would arrive early the following morning. After conducting his business at the embassy, he would catch another late bus to return home, arriving back the next morning.
Jamike arrived in Lagos in time enough to be at the embassy at ten o’clock that morning. What Jamike saw in Lagos was nowhere near what he saw in Enugu. Right from about five miles to Lagos the landscape began to change. The pace of activities quickened. He saw more people, more cars on many lanes, slum areas, pedestrians boarding public transportation, people spitting verbal abuses on each other as they struggled to board filled buses, different kinds of buildings, and wires crisscrossing poles and buildings. When his taxi stopped in traffic on Cater Bridge, Jamike was mesmerized by the skyscrapers on the horizon and wondered how long it would take someone to get to the top floors. He feared that all those cars on the long bridge would cause it to collapse into the river. Meanwhile, hawkers on the bridge pressured passengers with aggressive sales tactics. Jamike wondered if there were no markets where these individuals could display their goods.
Once he was inside the embassy compound, Jamike join ed a long line of visa seekers, some of whom had arrived there an hour or more earlier. Jamike saw a couple of people with sad faces as he approached the big iron gate. One of them was cursing the embassy official that refused him a visa. A young lady whose husband was a student in the United States was crying in a corner. On enquiry, Jamike learned that she was refused a visa, though she claimed that her husband had sent all the necessary documents. His heart sank. He took a number from an official and sat down to wait for his turn. Jamike entered the office of the consul in trepidation. He collected quickly from the floor the two documents that fell from his nervous hands. The man who motioned him to sit down had a stoic expression on his face. He summoned enough courage to present his papers. Fear did not allow him to observe anything in the consul’s office, but he prayed for God’s help.
The consul took a quick glance at the first document.
“Jamike Nnorom is your name?”
“Yes, sir.” He turned the page over.
“Do you know anyone in the United States?” Jamike decided to answer in the affirmative.
“I know one Mr. Paul Laski, a member of the American Peace Corps who taught in a school in my village.”
He turned the pages forward and backward as if searching for any document from Mr. Laski. Jamike wished he did not say he knew anyone in the U.S. Looking straight into his face, the consul asked,
“What are you going to study in the U.S.?”
“Philosophy and Political Science.”
“How many years will your studies last?”
“Four years, sir.” As the consul very carefully examined each of the applicant’s documents, Jamike’s heart raced. When the white man gave a nod as he turned the papers Jamike didn’t know whether it was a positive sign or that he saw something suspicious. His heart beat faster. The consul pulled out his desk drawer and brought out a stamp. Taking care to center the stamp on the passport page, he imprinted a student’s visa for “Duration of Stay” on Jamike’s new Nigerian passport. The consul congratulated him, shook his sweating hand, and