I still remember the first time I met Kacha in secondary school. I was minding my own business, packing away my books at the end of one of my first days in school when this scrawny boy with protruberant eyes and a manic grin approached me.

"Hello! What's your name?"

"Chukwudi", I replied cautiously. "What's yours?"

"My full name is Adeniyi Oluwadamilare Mongolia Oxygen Malomo. Most people call me Niyi. But since you are going to be my friend, I will let you call me a special name that I'll decide on."

I was taken aback. What kind of parents gave their children names like 'Oxygen' and 'Mongolia'? And since when did this crazy guy decide that we were going to be friends?

But Kacha seemed either unaware of or undeterred by my hesitation. "OK - I've thought about it, and you can call me Kachakachiki."

For some strange reason, I found this name so hilarious that I burst out laughing, and the ice was broken between us. When I recovered, I asked him why his parents had given him such strange names.

"Oh, those names aren't from my parents. I gave them to myself", he replied airily.

Now I was even more amazed. "Why would you give yourself names like that?"

"Oh, I was looking at an atlas a few years ago, and I came across this country called 'Mongolia'. I liked the name so much I decided to make it one of my names. As for 'Oxygen', well, my science teacher told me that it's very important - it gives life to living beings. So I thought that I would add that to my list of names too, since I want to be as important as oxygen."

"So your parents don't know about your names, then?"

Kacha shrugged. "They know... but I think they are used to my way of doing things, so they just pretend that I don't have those names."

I was intrigued. "What is your way of doing things?"

"Well..." He smiled, and made a nonchalant gesture. "I like to play around with things... for example, there was time when I wanted to find out whether it was possible to produce black hibiscus flowers by watering the plant with water that had been dyed green..."

And Kacha launched into a story of the various adventures and escapades that his insatiable curiosity had led him into. It was also the start of a firm friendship which lasted throughout our secondary school days, during which I shortened the longer 'Kachakachiki' to the name I was to use from then onwards.

As it turned out, I ended up being Kacha's only real close friend. Most of our other classmates were divided into two overlapping groups. There were those who regarded him as a figure of fun, because he was always making the most outrageous statements. Once, he said that the existence of gold - which was a yellow shiny metal - and copper - which was a red shiny metal - meant that there was definitely a blue shiny metal, and he was going to work on discovering it. On another occasion, he said that he had perfected a method of sleeping in class while fooling teachers and everyone else that he was wide awake.

Even more outrageous were the things that Kacha did to back up his more outlandish statements. For example, he once came to class holding a tin and announced that from that day on, he was going to give up eating regular food. Instead, his diet would consist solely of spiders, since in his view, they were much healthier. To demonstrate this, he opened the tin, turned it upside down and shook out a large number of dead spiders, which he then proceeded to eat - much to the disgust of everyone.

Needless to say, these antics rapidly earned him names like 'Craze-man', 'Kolo-man', or simply (and most popular of all) 'Kolo'. As his friend, I was always puzzled and irritated at why he would continue to engage in such behaviour. Didn't he mind being ridiculed, I asked?

"Oh, I don't mind at all", he replied with his trademark grin. "If it makes them happy to ridicule me, let them do so. As long as I'm achieving what I want, why should I care?"

"But you aren't achieving what you want! You always start with a new idea or project, and then a few days into it, it fizzles out when you think of something new!"

"Well, why should I continue pursuing an idea if I have an even better idea? At least I have set the ball in motion for anyone who is interested in pursuing the idea. Better for me to free my intelligence to pursue more important matters."

Oh yes - make no mistake about it, Kacha was intelligent - very, very intelligent. In fact, I would say that he was too intelligent for his own good. This is why there were those of our classmates that detested him for what they saw as his arrogance. He would proclaim that lessons were a waste of time for him, because he knew everything that the teacher was teaching. (That was why, he said, he had perfected his sleeping-while-awake technique.) He was also not shy of demonstrating his extensive knowledge. I recall an occasion where he once stood up and, apropos of nothing, started recounting the history of the Songhai empire until he was shouted down by angry classmates.

And it wasn't just the students who viewed him in this way. The teachers feared and hated him even more - there was nothing more they dreaded than have this young upstart embarrass them by interrupting their lesson to correct an inaccurate statement that they had made. They would regularly punish him for what they regarded as his impudence, but this had no effect on his behaviour - he maintained that it wasn't fair for students to be misled by wrong information.

{mospagebreak}

The thing was, despite how the teachers and students felt, I don't think he was doing this out of arrogance or malice. I think that he simply believed that if something was wrong, the right thing to do was to correct it. In fact, he would often do this with a smile on his face, as if he had done the world a great favour. Unfortunately, he seemed to be unaware of the social norms on how you were supposed to go about doing this, and this meant that people ended up with the wrong impression. Of course, I tried to explain this to him, but it all seemed to go over his head.

"So... you are telling me that people don't like being told the truth?" he said, puzzled.

"Well... it's not that they don't like being told, but the way you tell them matters a lot."

"So if a teacher is misleading students with wrong information. what should I do?"

I paused. "Well, you can meet the teacher after the lesson and point out to him that he was wrong."

"But what good is that if he doesn't tell the students that he is wrong?", Kacha persisted.

"OK... erm, you can tell the students that the teacher is wrong, and this is the right answer."

"It would take too long to go from student to student telling them the right thing. It's better to announce it when everyone is present and I can prove the teacher wrong!" he said, grinning triumphantly.

In response, I rolled my eyes in despair.

Kacha's reputation in the school made things a bit awkward for me. I was often placed in positions where I had to defend some of his more outrageous actions. Many of my classmates couldn't understand what I saw in 'that craze-man', and after a few attempts to explain, I stopped trying. I think that they were never going to share my fascination for his childlike curiosity and his piercing intelligence. So they would never get close enough to him to see the very many occasions when he was also brutally honest with himself - when he would admit when he was wrong, and when he would show a willingness to listen to other ideas.

But Kacha's intelligence was also double-edged. It may have made people hate him when he showed he knew more than them - but it also made him highly sought after for solving homework problems. The funny thing about it was that it was those students who villified him the most who then often approached him for help. Some of them were ashamed of their hypocrisy, so they usually approached him through me - but others saw no contradiction in asking for help from someone who, not so long ago they had just insulted. Kacha didn't seem to mind, however - he always relished the idea of explaining something that someone didn't understand.

Anyway, our days at secondary school passed soon enough, and it was time to sit our external exams to go to university. Kacha had already decided what course he wanted to study.

"Philosophy?" I exclaimed. "What's the point of that?"

Kacha wagged his finger in admonition. "Don't be so dismissive. A philosopher's role is very important. He is the source of the solutions to all the problems that plague the society he lives in. I believe that with my superior intelligence, I can apply my knowledge of philosophy to solve the many problems that we have today."

"You must be dreaming", I said scornfully. "Why should anyone listen to you when they think they are the ones with solutions to the problems?"

"Because they don't have the solutions - I do!"

I sighed. "Kacha, please don't waste your talent on people who won't appreciate you. I honestly think you should do something that will enable you to make lots of money. Go into computing - lots of banks would be happy to employ someone like you. But please, don't assume that the world sees you the way you see yourself."

Kacha responded in a rare fit of annoyance. "Chukwudi, I can't believe you're being so selfish!" he shouted. "It is because of this selfish attitude that Nigeria is upside down today. Anyway, if you can't encourage me in what I want to do, it's better not to say anything!"

I bristled defensively. " When someone tries to tell you what is good for you, you think you know it all. OK, go and do philosophy! See if I care!" We exchanged quite a few heated and cruel words before I turned and walked away in anger before he could say anything else.

After that argument, things were never quite the same between us again. We would pass each other in the corridor and politely say hello, but the confidences dried up between us. Looking back, I think that we were both too proud to make the first move to make up. But whatever the reason, it meant that I had no idea which university he had applied to go to - so when I left secondary school, I lost contact with him for the next ten years.

But in that period, I never stopped regretting that I had allowed the friendship to die, and I always wondered what had become of my friend. Anytime I came across an ex-student of our school, I would ask whether he had heard any news of Kacha. The stories I heard circulating were as bizarre as the boy's behaviour had been at secondary school. Some people said that he had decided to learn the language of the weaver bird; the idea was that he would speak to these birds and convince them not to devour grain that was meant for harvest. Other people said that he had left the country for the United Kingdom, but rather than take a plane, he had decided to paddle there in a canoe outfitted with special equipment to sustain him on the voyage. One thing was certain - Kacha seemed to have disappeared from circulation, and I had no sure way of knowing what had happened to him.

{mospagebreak}

The years passed, and I finished my university course in civil engineering. I soon got a job in a large construction company which sent me all over the country to supervise various building projects. One day, I was on my way in a taxi to the site of a project I was supervising in Kaduna, when I passed a junction where an unkempt man in tattered clothes appeared to be directing traffic. He seemed to be doing a very efficient job - he didn't seem encumbered in any way by the large cooking pot on his head. I looked at him idly... and then my face froze in recognition. I shouted to the taxi driver to stop, threw him a clutch of notes and bolted out of the taxi towards the man.

"Kacha! Kacha!! I shouted, running towards the man. He looked much, much older than I expected him to be, but he was still scrawny, and he still had the same old grin. "Kacha... it's me, Chukwudi!" The man stopped for one second, then ran towards me and we embraced tightly.

I stepped back and regarded him. His clothes were tattered, but they were clean. His hair was unkempt, but there was only a faint trace of body odour. But I was greatly concerned. "Kacha... what are you doing here? Why are you doing this job?"

Kacha grinned at me. "Chukwudi, it's good to see you again. But what else should I be doing? Come, let's take a break, and we can catch up."

He led me to nearby bukateria where everyone seemed very happy to see him. The bukateria owner smiled and asked him if he wanted his regular meal

"Absolutely, Mama Laraba", he said. "And please serve my very good friend here a meal too."

Mama Laraba smiled again and walked away to prepare the meals. "How much do I have to pay?" I asked, assuming that this is what he had intended.

"Pay? Don't be silly, my friend. Everything is on the house. How can I expect you to pay for the meal when I haven't seen you in so many years? Nonsense!"

Over the meal, we exchanged information about what had happened to each other in the years since we last saw each other. I recounted the rather boring story of how I had completed my degree in civil engineering and about how I was now working as a supervising engineer on various projects up and down the country, while he punctuated my account with exclamations of "Great!" and "Fantastic!"

"So, what about you?" I asked, when I was done. "You set out to be the philosopher that would change Nigeria - how come you're now directing traffic in Kaduna?"

"Ah", he said with a twinkle in his eye, "I wanted to go to university at first, but then I realised that I probably wouldn't learn much from there. It would just be like secondary school, except that the lecturers would be even less willing to admit they were wrong. So I decided after finishing my exams to teach myself philosophy instead. After all, all I needed were some good books.

"So I stayed at home, reading and expostulating theory after theory. After a while, my parents got fed up of me taking up space and ordered me to go out and look for a job if I wasn't going to go to university. Well - it was their house, so I didn't blame them for telling me what they wanted of me - but I knew that I could never be happy working for someone who knew much less than I did. So I left home with my bag of books and took my philosophising on the road.

"I wandered up and down the country, hitching lifts, begging for food and living from hand to mouth. In the middle of this, I realised that people thought that I was mad, because I didn't have the same aspirations as them - to get a good job, settle down and get married, build a big house and buy a car. But I felt as free as a bird - I didn't have any concerns at all. Most people would be worried about where their next meal was coming from, but I needed so little to keep me happy that I never worried about this - and strangely enough, I always seemed to get food when I asked politely for it.

"So I thought - if this is what comes of people thinking that I am mad, then perhaps I really should pretend to be mad so that I can enjoy the full benefits. And Chukwudi, I assure you that there really are benefits! I can do whatever I want and wear whatever I like without people looking down on me - they say I am mad, so what do they expect? When I appear polite and do something useful for people, to most people that's always a pleasant surprise, given the way people treat mad people in Nigeria. So this means that they are always very willing to accommodate me and do me little favours. The bukateria owner always gives me food because she knows that I direct traffic and she feels sorry for me - plus I sometimes help her out when I have the time. So I'm very happy with my life."

I was flabbergasted at this revelation. "If you're so helpful and polite, don't you think that people will realise you're normal?"

Kacha laughed. "Well, I still have to remind them that I'm mad by doing the occasional mad but harmless thing, like this..." and he tapped the cooking pot on his head.

I shook my head in sadness. "Kacha... I don't understand. You had a brilliant mind. Even now, you still have a brilliant mind. Remember how you used to go on about not being selfish? Don't you think that by allowing your brilliant mind to waste away doing what you're doing, you are being very, very selfish?"

He smiled sadly in return. "I learnt the hard way what you were trying to tell me back then then in secondary school. I may have been intelligent academically, but I was a stark illiterate in the ways of men. It took repeated rejection before I could open my eyes to the fact that despite what I thought about myself, I was nothing - absolutely nothing to other people. So it didn't matter what ideas I had about fixing the world's problems... nobody was going to listen to me anyway.

"And when I realised this, I also realised that what really did matter to me was seeking my own happiness - not putting it behind the demands of other people. This is the path I chose to get there - I recognise that not everyone would have chosen it, but it's what has worked for me."

I bit back the frustration in my voice. "Kacha, don't sell yourself short just because you've realised the truth about people. I'm pretty high up in my organisation - I can talk to someone about getting you a good job where I work."

Kacha stared at me for a long time. Then he spoke gently. "Chukwudi, I appreciate what you're trying to do, but I honestly am happy with my chosen life. I'm very happy to see you again, so I would be very sorry if we had to part on bitter terms like we did ten years ago. So please - accept that our lives have taken different directions and be happy for me too."

I bowed my head for a while. Then I sighed and said, "At least let me give you my card in case you ever change your mind."

"That's no problem", he replied smiling. He took the card, we talked some more, and then I announced that I had to be going, as I was late for work already. We stood up and embraced each other again, then I walked out into the morning sunshine, hoping that I would hear from Kacha soon. I didn't look back, so I didn't see as my friend, the 'madman', gently let go of the card I had handed him. I didn't see as it was carried along by the wind, further and further away...

Robot  # 1 | 24.08.2008 23:49

I still remember the first time I met Kacha in secondary school. I was minding my own business, ...Read the full article.

akuluouno  # 2 | 25.08.2008 07:56

Dear Shoko, Na waooh. You hit nail gbam when you wrote :D "So I thought - if this is what comes of people thinking that I am mad, then perhaps I really should pretend to be mad so that I can enjoy the full benefits. And Chukwudi, I assure you that there really are benefits! I can do whatever I want and wear whatever I like without people looking down on me - they say I am mad, so what do they expect? When I appear polite and do something useful for people, to most people that's always a pleasant surprise, given the way people treat mad people in Nigeria. So this means that they are always very willing to accommodate me and do me little favours. The bukateria owner always gives me food because she knows that I direct traffic and she feels sorry for me - plus I sometimes help her out when I have the time. So I'm very happy with my life." I was flabbergasted at this revelation. "If you're so helpful and polite, don't you think that people will realise you're normal?" Kacha laughed. "Well, I still have to remind them that I'm mad by doing the occasional mad but harmless thing, like this..." and he tapped the cooking pot on his head. If Kacha had met Musa my original natural mad man also in Kaduna, I think they would have made good friends because Kacha had a method or style in his madness which does not make it look artificial. Afterall all us in Nigeria are mad one way or the other:idea::idea::cool::cool: Oncemore thanks Shoko for taking us literalliy on a long litereary journey. Like the "Journey of the Magi", you will appreciate the bounties at the end:D:D

enna inot  # 3 | 25.08.2008 09:02

Hello SLB, Na wa oh.is this real? as in did this really happen? Or are u just a good story teller.You see in other societies where intellectuals bordering on nutcases exist,your friend kacha 'the madman' will be a Lecturer or an egg head in some university.Enter Nigeria's own John Forbes Nash.(check google to get more info on him) On 2nd thoughts maybe some thing(doesnt sound serious tho) was wrong with your friend afterall.Am not a Psychiatrists oh! but i do think maybe' 1 or 2 nuts are missing' which may cause him to have grand delusions about himself thinking he is the best thing since sliced bread!!!!I feel his parents should have gotten help for him by way of medical treatment.Maybe they did,who knows........ na wa! Some mothers do have them sha

mulan  # 4 | 25.08.2008 09:24

Shoko, Nice story and I like the length. I tot your pangolo characters were great, Kacha is in a class of his own. I burst out laughing at the name too, very original but what else since it is coming from your pen? :) You know something? Chukwudi may have a point when he said that it is selfish to waste away such brilliance or keep it to oneself. But see who is to say that there really was any particular brilliance which the society would appreciate or benefit from? What if the plurality prevailed on Kacha's 'brilliance' such that it was blunted into 'acceptability' would that be better? An extreme scenario is that in trying to fit in and make an impact on society, Kacha 'truly' and completely goes mad! I say 'truly' cos even as he is, I'm sure Kacha will be sectioned under the Mental health Act by any psychologist/psychiatrist worth his degrees :) Anyways, not all of us are mentally wired to successfully join the rat race, keeping up and overtaking the Joneses and all that jazz. Kacha is doing his bit for those he comes in contact with and though his effect on them may not be quantifiable, they are undeniably there. I am sure after some time, Chukwudi will agree...

MsWoman  # 5 | 25.08.2008 10:02

Shoko! You have some serious talent sha! It's stories/writings like this that make me happy to be part of NVS. That was a brilliant write-up and it had a few sublime messages. At least Kacha decided to play society by acting crazy. Truth is in his own way, he was giving back to society! I mean afterall, directing traffic is not easy. In addition, thank God he opted for this lifestyle. He could have ended up as one rogue or armed robber or murderer. I have heard of people like Kacha in real life who are too brilliant for their own good, and therefore become bored with whatever soeiety has to offer them. They soon become idle minds and gear their intellect in the wrong direction. Just like one of my colleagues at work who told me his brother was so smart growing up and as a young man. The guy crammed the Bible not because he was SU oh, but because there was nothing more challenging for him to do after exhaustively doing so many other things. Today, the guy is incarcerated and has been there for 12 years. When he faced the parole board last year, the guy cussed out the entire panel and told them to go to blazes. His reasoning....they don't have any control over his life!

E_Pluribus_Unum  # 6 | 25.08.2008 10:05

Baba anothe masterpeice, it seems madmen have various modus operandi and can even have more sense than we the *Ahem* supposedly sane.

Shoko Loko Bangoshe  # 7 | 25.08.2008 13:07

All, Thanks for the compliments. The story was (as is usually the case) inspired by real-life events. During my NYSC years in Jos, there was a man I used to see when going to work. Up till that time, I used to have this stereotypical image of mentally ill people in Nigeria going naked and doing strange things... but this guy was reasonably well dressed and used to keep a stash of books. I heard stories that he used to be a lecturer or a professional... but somewhere down the line, his life took a tragic turn. Still though, I often wondered if in his confused state, he had attained a peace and happiness that many of us still strive after. Enna, Just to clarify, the story is a work of fiction - the first person narrative is used to give it an air of reality. Mulan, I am conflicted whenever I see people waste their talent... one the one hand, I believe that it's close to a sin to see someone needing help and walking on by when you can help at little cost to yourself. But on the other hand, who am I to decide whether it costs a lot or a little to help? After all, Kacha started out with a selfless attitude - this is even what caused his breakup with Chukwudi, the story teller. So in the end, I leave it to everyone to follow where their hearts tell them that happiness lies. MsWoman, You make a good point about how very intelligent people can become destructive to society. I think this often happens when they have a distorted view of themselves in relation to the society they live in. In fact, one area I wanted to explore in the story was how Kacha's inability to understand people's emotions caused him all kinds of trouble. I believe this is something that affects intelligent people - it's as though they have had social awareness taken away from them as the price for having intelligence given to them.

Lalakokofefe  # 8 | 25.08.2008 13:48

One thing i always thought about "mad" people is, it must be bliss in their world, and Kacha has just confirmed it for me. You see, a "mad" man is in a world all by himself.. Everyone else is the "mad" one. Nice story SLB.

bobokite  # 9 | 25.08.2008 15:19

Shoko you go sabi tell Tales by moonlight stories well well O! lol! :lol::lol::lol:

emj  # 10 | 25.08.2008 20:23

And it wasn't just the students who viewed him in this way. The teachers feared and hated him even more - there was nothing more they dreaded than have this young upstart embarrass them by interrupting their lesson to correct an inaccurate statement that they had made. They would regularly punish him for what they regarded as his impudence, but this had no effect on his behaviour - he maintained that it wasn't fair for students to be misled by wrong information. Yep ur friend Kachakachiki..... is right on da money about teachers misleading their students,and they hate u when u try to correct them....those where dem days, not now.:eek: I really did enjoy reading this article...very refreshing.....btw, your friend wasn't mad, he was just exercising his right to be what he wants to be....i did give myself some wacko names when i was in Secondary Sch some light yrs ago:twisted::lol::lol: PS>>>>about time u give birth u know...to a Book...a compilation of your Stories....Quick/Fast>>>>cheerios for now:cool: Back to my daydreaming of Kunu with a hint of Ginger:arrow:

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