I did not meet the General again until two years later after I returned from one year of field research for my thesis. In the course of my research, I had stumbled on claims and counter claims that required some clarifications. I then decided to seek out General Gowon to hear some sides of his story. I got his number and called his home. To my shock, he picked the phone. His gentle voice put me at ease almost immediately; sounding as if he was speaking to a friend he had known for a long time. I doubt that he even noticed the trepidation in my voice as I pleaded with him that I wanted to interview him over some issues in my research. Without hesitation, he agreed and we fixed a date. When I asked how to get to his house, it turned out he was less than twenty minutes drive from where I was staying in the New Barnet area. We agreed to talk on the date of the interview just to be sure that nothing had happened to make him unavailable.
On the fateful day, I put a call to his house and again, he personally picked up the phone. I had barely introduced myself when he picked my voice. I said very little because his next statement stunned me. I know where you are, he said. I will come there and pick you myself. No need to take a taxi. I will be there in the next half hour, he said. Yes Sir, Ok, Sir, I said rather clumsily and fumbling to put down the receiver.
I was too stunned to tell the priests who were staying with me because I still did not believe what I had just heard. I rehearsed the words and spoke to myself: General Gowon, former Head of State of the Federal Republic of Nigeria is coming to pick me to his house himself. Lord God Almighty. The white priests I was living with had worked in Nigeria and they knew him very well but by reputation. I put my excitement in check so as to avoid the embarrassment that could arise if he failed to turn up. I decided to take it easy because I also knew that my stocks would rise in the house.
I must have had the doorbell ring many times in my imagination. And, yes, less than thirty minutes later, the real doorbell rang. I went to the door, opened it and there was General Gowon, with no driver but himself. How could I capture these moments, I wondered? We drove off immediately with me sitting right beside this great man. But the General did not seem capable of running out of surprises.
When we arrived the house, he got out of the car, got out his keys and opened the main door. The house looked normal, but I expected to be surrounded by stewards and all kinds of assistants who were to open the door of the car, collect my bag, lead me to the door and open it for me. He opened the door himself. The house was quiet and it was obvious we were the only ones. He took my cheap and rumpled winter coat befitting of a student and hung it. He turned to me as if apologizing and said to me: Uwargida ba ta nan and the children are in school. The General, I later realized had a tendency for making Haus-ingli sentences. Now, this is new, fake vocabulary but I do not know how else to refer to someone who speaks both Hausa and English in one sentence!
After he sat me down, he went into the kitchen and brought a medium sized tray with teacups. He went back to the kitchen again and brought out a kettle, sugar, assorted biscuits and sand witches. Perhaps, for the reader, I was rude for not offering to help him. I decided to obey my head and not my heart and my refusal to help him pleased me because it was for the records too because I thought to myself: Why would I spoil the historic joy and fun worth an entry in the Guinness book of records of being served by my former Head of State and hero? I felt that making any contribution to the service by a trip to the kitchen would have amounted to a contamination of what to me seemed like a sacred ritual. After he set out everything, he took a seat, apologized again for the absence of Uwargida and then said he was ready for the interview.