04 Feb 2009 |
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- Opening sentence of valedictory speech of Mr. Talabi Esubiyi who taught in Igbobi College from 1936-1975. In the Tradition of public schools in England such as Eton and Harrow after which Igbobi College was modelled, there is usually one Master whom students would never forget. He would be a repository of the inherited English public school ethos and the Igbobi College traditions. This enduring relationship was aptly illustrated in the classic British Film ”Goodbye Mr. Chips”, which told of the love and the bonding that existed between schoolboys and their Master as he sometimes taught generations of one family. And just as it was in the case of the fact-based movie, Baba was not an Old Boy of Igbobi. I am informed on good authority that he attended Government College, Ibadan, a one-time alter-ego of our Alma Mata, ICY. Pa Talabi Esubiyi (or Talabi Esugbayi) of blessed memory as earlier students knew him was one Master most Igbobi College old Boys will never forget. He joined the school in 1936, just four years after it was founded, and retired in 1975. Through the thirty-nine years in which he taught in which he rose from junior master to Vice Principal, his disciplinary style though strict was never harsh or cruel. I knew him to teach Basic Science but my father says he taught them Religious knowledge, English Language and one other subject which I forget now. By the time I entered Igbobi College in 1970; second generation in my family to do so after my father and his brothers, Baba as we called him was a living legend in the school. He dressed as the old Colonial Officers did but without the Kepi. During school hours he was dressed in an immaculate white short-sleeved shirt over a pair of baggy khaki shorts almost down to his knees, calf-length brown stockings complemented by a pair of shining brown sandals in the old style of two broad straps crossed in an ‘x’ shape with the toes just peeping out. His sandals were never dusty however much he walked around the school. A balding, fairly tall man, he stood out not only by his dress and comportment but even his speech was antiquated. He voice was a ringing and stentorian baritone, and he had this way of stretching his vowels and emphasising the final consonant of his words, which made his sentences seem like judicial proclamations from the famous British Judge, Lord Denning.
I digress; let us take up the subject of Baba’s disciplinary methods. Pa Talabi Esubiyi’s reputation for discipline was awesome and fearsome. Not because like some masters he would flog one mercilessly all over the body until their arms got tired. Also, not because he would cane a boy six strokes, jumping up as he exerted himself in order to maximise the force of the stroke. On the contrary, Baba was different. His punishments were corrective, not punitive and the lessons were for life. An old Boy, Professor Bolaji Akinyemi once told a gathering that when he was serving Minister of Foreign Affairs, on being informed by his secretary that a certain Mr. Talabi Esubiyi was on the phone and not even in his office, he automatically checked to see if his shirt was properly tucked in! I benefited from that respect for Baba even as a Third Secretary on Secondment as Portuguese Interpreter in Supreme Headquarters in the mid 1980s. Baba sent me several times to an old boy now late, Vice Admiral Oduwaiye who was the Chief of Staff to the Head of State, General Muhammadu Buhari. He tried his best to get the Vice Admiral to influence the then State Military Governor another Old boy, Late Air Commodore Mudasiru to return Igbobi College to the Missionaries. Such was his love for the school even in retirement. Admiral Oduwaiye’s office was in the inner sanctum of Dodan Barracks, whereas; State Protocol where I worked was in the outer section. You needed to penetrate a lot of security gates to get there. Few people had the clearance, and those of us that did, did not go there unless official duties demanded it. I was received grandly each time and feted formally by the Admiral in the corridors of power as if it were Baba himself and not a young man in his mid twenties. I remember those days with fondness. Back to Baba’s discipline. If you erred as a group, Baba would not cane you all in some orgy of mass caning, he would give you a group portion of grass to cut and the heavens help you if you failed to finish the job by the stipulated time. If however you fell into the unfortunate circumstance of being a lone offender, you would receive just one or two strokes of Baba’s cane, which might seem like a good thing at first examination. Not so! People dreaded receiving Baba’s cane because his strokes were delivered seemingly without effort, but they cut deep and the pain lasted for ages. You would not be able to sit properly for a week if you received one stroke of Baba’s cane. And if you had to receive two, God save you. Baba’s experienced strokes from decades of application would fall one on top of, or within millimetres of the last. As a result, the pain was so much that no one, absolutely no one could do “awọ”, (“leather” - a situation considered heroic among Igbobi schoolboys then, when you could receive a flogging touching your toes without flinching as if your buttocks skin were hard tanned leather. This was particularly heralded if you were being flogged in front of the whole school during morning assembly) for Baba’s caning. There would be no shouts of “awọọ”, “awọọ” from mates as each stroke landed (in the class as would be the case with Baba). I never saw him cane at assembly, and I never saw him give more than three strokes until I left the School. His caning was so painful and effective that more than three would be wickedness, and Baba was not a wicked man. Anything you did that warranted Baba to cane you more than three strokes was serious enough to warrant you a suspension or outright expulsion. I had the misfortune of receiving Baba’s cane in my first week of Form One in Igbobi College. He caught me one early morning writing with chalk on the wall just outside my class, Form 1c. “Come here Boy, Whaaa-t is your naaaaa-me?”, “Count III sir” was the reply”. “Whooo is your fatheeeerr”, “ Mr George Oludotun Count, sir”. “Ahaaa, I thought sooooo. Seee meee in my offiiii-ce at breaaaa–k! I discovered painfully later, that when Baba said “See me in my office at break”, it meant report for a caning. On the dot of 11.01am, shaking with dread from the stories I’d been told by seniors and classm I cannot round up this piece without referring to one other famous saying among the many anecdotes about Baba Esubiyi such as, “when mammy goes to the market…”, ”yawn properly, young buffalo”, “…and the like”. We dared not call him Baba to his face, and generations before us had called him that name behind his back. We met that name. But it was during our time that I heard, and not first hand this time, that Baba Esubiyi stumbled upon some students unexpectedly and one of them raised the alarm, “Baba”, “Baba”, to his hearing. He is reported to have said, “You call me Babaa, Babaa, I fatheerr no-bodyyy. This we learnt was due to the fact that he and Mrs Esubiyi (Mama) as we called her had no natural children of their own. Sir, wherever you are today, and I know it is in heaven for there lies a good teacher’s reward, I beg to differ. You may not have had issues through madam but you certainly fathered thousands. I know I speak for many Igbobians who came under your guidance in your thirty – nine years of teaching at the school that you were more than a patriarch to us. We called you Baba, Baba, and you fathered us all, Baba Wa.
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“Omo Igbobi ole, Omo Igbobi amugbo, Omo Igbobi agbefiri, Omo Igbobi ofọọn (Igbobi Boys are thieves, Igbobi Boys are hemp smokers, Igbobi Boys are light-fingered, Igbobi boys are rascals), but Igbobi boys I love you.” 
In those days the biblical injunction not “to spare the rod so as not to spoil the child” was strictly enforced in this missionary school. Caning was considered an essential form of discipline then, and a sine qua non to the development of focused, disciplined and promising young men. (Remember that in the earlier days unlike nowadays, the average age for starting secondary school was about 15 years. Some men, yes, men were about 23 when they finished their Higher School. Nowadays, most secondary schools are not allowed to punish children, as corporal punishment has been outlawed in the name of modernity. It has been known for a Minister of Education to remove a revered Principal of a top-flight Federal Government College in Lagos because the son or daughter of an influential member of society was rightly disciplined. The result is a breakdown of discipline such that students and their parents beat up teachers at the flimsiest excuse. Students form gangs, use drugs openly, flout school rules and even break the laws of the land with impunity. Such is the chaos in which we find the educational system today. It is hoped now that we have an Igbobian with a record of performance as the Lagos State Commissioner of Education that perhaps he may bring some sense back into the system.
ates alike, I reported as quickly as I could after the break bell in the Vice Principal’s office. He stood up, picked up his cane and uttered one of the famous statements for which he had come to be known, as he did it for all whose forbears he had taught. “Cooouuunnnn-t, under this very roooo-f I caned your fatheeeerr and he crieeee-d, nowwww I shall cane youuuu and you shall cryyyyy. Beeeennn-d! I bent over and touched my toes, he caned me only one stroke and I cried. I was very careful after that not to get into Baba’s trouble and succeeded until one unfortunate day, two years after. The only other time I received Baba’s cane was in Form III when he was the MOD (Master on Duty) for the week I was to wait at table in the Dining Hall. I was the only Waiter missing at breakfast as I’d decided to skip breakfast that day as it wasn’t one of my favourites. I enjoyed some meals and hated others. If my memory serves me well, Monday morning’s I didn’t particularly care for. Monday morning in my time was Moinmoin and eko. I hated it as much as I hated Thursday morning’s hard boiled yam with oku eko (iced fish) in pepper stew and watery, tepid Bournvita). I loved Tuesday morning’s beans, Wednesday morning’s stewed corned beef and ibeji bread, Thursday night’s ‘dodo alone’ Friday night’s white rice with egusi, and of course Sunday’s breakfast of Ibeji with scrambled egg. Those were ‘soccer’ meals - but that is a story for another time. A message was sent to me after breakfast in the dorm, to see Baba “at Breaaa-k” and I did, with the expected result. Ouch!
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