Out of the blue, on the Saturday morning of April 13, I called the professor and said, “I want to come over˳” It was not really out of the blue, for lately I may have been thinking about him, the way people hold others at the back of their minds without much effort while they go about their daily business˳
When his voice came over it was reassuringly strong but raspy, and I wondered if he was trying to fight off some aches and pains while at the same time talking to me˳ Well, it happened that I had been in his mind too, and he said, “It is a good idea to visit; you shall live long, and you know what? I thought about you yesterday˳ Is 3˳30 pm all right for you? Let me know whether the time is good for you; I do not want to get you away from your work˳” Before he could suggest any other time, I said, “Agreed˳”
Shortly after that, I began to think over my decision˳ Was it right or wrong to visit? I was not sure why I had the desire to see him˳ “Next time,” I reprimanded myself, “think first before you promise to go over˳” Not that I needed to have a reason to visit him, but it helps when a man has a rationale for anything he wants to do˳
Now that I had made the promise to visit the professor, I had to come up with reasons to justify the trip˳ Perhaps it was because he would be turning 95 in a couple of months˳ He is the only person I know who is 94 years old˳ However, age did not seem like the reason I wanted to see him˳ Asking him how he managed to get to age 94 and still be wise and strong was probably another element nudging me, like the way palm wine propels drunks˳ “Forget that idea,” I said to myself˳ “It is not likely the professor would know why he remains hearty at 94, going on 95˳ Nobody knows why he or she lives long˳”
Besides, one can only ask another person such a question if a perfect opportunity presents itself˳ Observations, not queries, are the better way to get answers to such longevity-related questions – especially in seniors, who may misconstrue the underlying intention behind the inquiry˳
My childhood upbringing, I think, was another force nudging me to make the visit˳ When I was a kid, my father used to send my siblings and me to go visit our uncles˳ “Bother them, ask them how they are doing,” Dad would say to us˳ Those childhood experiences do not disappear; they only remain quiet in our mind, occasionally breaking out into action˳
After I had accumulated a basket of motives for my visit, I closed the books I was reading, shut my office door and got into my car˳ On my way, I congratulated myself on the omen which had prompted me to shave early in the morning˳ Grey stubble was one less thing to worry about when I got to see the professor, who would survey one with a quick look and say, “I am disappointed with that unshaved beard of yours,” or “You got to do something about that beer belly˳”
My timing was perfect, which I hoped would please the professor, who demands nothing but punctuality˳ A few seconds before 3˳30 pm I climbed two flat brick platforms, walked towards the front door and pushed on the doorbell˳ Since I did not hear the doorbell ring, I pressed a couple of times more and waited˳ Minutes later, an attendant opened the door, letting me into a small foyer that led to the right into a large carpeted parlor, made cramped by intervening couches and various tables containing picture frames of old and young faces˳
Opposite me and near the end wall was the professor˳ It surprised me to see him in a recliner couch, with his legs stretched out˳ As I approached, I yanked off my cap, bowed slightly and said, “Hello, Prof˳” Then I walked up to him and bent my head so that he could pat the back of my hair˳
“My dear, good to see you,” he said˳ Then he waved me to a seat˳ As I sat, it suddenly occurred to me why I wanted to come to see him˳ To explain, I have to invoke the Iroko tree˳ Iroko is a rare, majestic, tall tree that grows in Igboland, Nigeria˳
It is unfortunate that Igbo children of today miss out on the lessons we learned when we were growing up˳ Unlike the other trees that natives climb to obtain firewood, nobody climbs the Iroko tree˳ According to Igbo legend, if anyone dares climb the Iroko tree, they must endeavor to get all the wood they need˳
Upon this realization, I sank down into the sofa and clasped my hands, supporting my head on them as I prepared to listen˳
Part II of the visit to the professor will continue in a few days – please stay tuned˳
Source by https://ezinearticles˳com/?My-Visit-to-the-Professor—Part-1&id=10110051
