By Jonas Odocha
The human mind is indeed very complex. As we interact with one another and
share certain experiences in life, we begin to appreciate the fact that in most
circumstances, what we see on the surface, is far-fetched from what is actually
lodged in the inner recesses of our minds. In the Scriptures the Holy Book tells
us that the human mind is deceitful because there is no easy way to
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completely decipher what is in the mind from mere looks. This then explains
why some people are labelled as being sharp or dull in handling certain
situations or issues. What then makes some people say one thing when they,
in reality, mean to do something else? Why are promises not kept even when
the ability to perform is quite obvious? In these cases and more you will
discover that the mind is carefully and selectively engaged when we wish to
wriggle out of knotty situations or when we find ourselves in a bind. Yes
indeed, the mind will always come to our rescue no matter the circumstance,
even if as a temporary relief.
Have you ever wondered why people make resolutions and insist on keeping
them even when some aspects of such situations may be beyond their control?
A certain man on getting married decided that they would have seven children
and each child would be given a name to correspond to each day of the seven
days of the week, irrespective of the baby’s gender. His fascination with this
idea of naming his anticipated seven children, Sunday through Saturday, was
well known all over the community and accordingly, attention was focused on
his wife each time she became pregnant and well-wishers would plan for the
upcoming unique naming ceremony. Their first child, a daughter, arrived and
was duly christened Sunday. Then followed the second, another girl, who was
named Monday, and even though the community felt that name was not really
feminine, there was no going back in the sequence of naming. Tuesday arrived,
followed by Wednesday, Thursday and Friday in that order, and there was so
much excitement and fun in the community as these children became the talk
of the town as a result of their unique naming pattern. As they awaited the
arrival of the seventh and last child, appropriately to be christened Saturday,
but alas mother-nature then showed that man may propose but God will
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surely dispose. Surprise, Surprise, the mother was delivered of twins, meaning
the arrival of an additional unexpected 8th child that was not part of the
seven-day week naming resolution. Would the twins both bear Saturday? That
could not be contemplated! The mind now went to work. As the community
gathered for the naming ceremony eager to make mockery of Mr Smart, little
did they know that he had taken care of the situation, to the surprise and
shock of his anxious wife. As the chief of the community asked the parents to
give names to the twins, their father stepped forward and announced: “this
one that came out first, the girl and our seventh child I give the name Saturday
as I resolved from the beginning of our marriage,” and the community roared
in joy and wondered loudly about the 8th, a boy. “This one, our last child and
the unexpected 8th child I have given the name: Public holiday.” Was that
smart or wasn’t it? The mind at work!
Igbozuruike was an uncle I had so much admiration for, to the extent that each
time I happened to visit the village while he was alive, I made out time to keep
his company. He was not only witty but also had so much humour in
everything he said in conversation or discussion. I remember vividly my
conversation with him when it was announced that Nigeria was switching from
driving on the left like the British, to driving on the right like the Americans.
Uncle Igbo, as I used to call him, told me that he had a question for me, “is it
when going or when returning that you are supposed to keep to the right?” On
second thoughts I realised that his question made so much sense. Why? At
that time our link roads were earth roads with many potholes and all vehicular
traffic during the rainy season was restricted to wherever a motorist could
avoid the water-filled potholes. How then could both on-coming traffic handle
such a scenario if the right side of the road is impassable? Minds at work!
But what endeared me more to Uncle Igbo was the story of his experience in
Port Harcourt in 1940 as an artisan working with Oyibos in the “European
quarters” of the Garden City. He narrated that he and some other domestic
staff of the Oyibos were leaving for home after the day’s work when they were
accosted by the police for “wandering in European quarters” late in the
evening. They were all taken to the police station for detention when he
realised that some of them had been released by their kinsmen police officers
who spoke same language with them. Three of them were now left behind the
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bar, and all of them were Ibos, being interrogated by an Ibo policeman who
also witnessed when the Kalabari-speaking police officers had earlier released
their Kalabari-speaking colleagues. When Uncle Igbo was asked to give his
name for the preparation of the charge “of wandering”, he informed the
officer that his name was too long to spell. The officer was furious and dealt
him a blow on the head with his wooden baton. Uncle Igbo said that, there and
then, he shook his head, hissed and gave his name to this Igbo-speaking police
officer as: “Igbo ji akaha egbu onweha” instead of his real name, Igbozuruike.
The former name, the fake one that he gave, can be translated to mean:
“Ndigbo are the architects of their own downfall.” The policeman got the
message, dropped the charge, and asked all three of them to go home. SHARP
MINDS AT WORK
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