Once Upon a Time in Lagos: Episode 1

When you have a passion for something, you have to go for it, there’s no other way.  You have to give everything you have to achieve your dream. Otherwise, what’s the point.  That’s the kind of love and passion I had for Africa, and is the reason that made me to accept an offer from  Dr. Sheldon Black, my dissertation chair,  to conduct a malaria research in Nigeria in the 1960s.

Prior to this offer, I was  a doctoral student majoring  in Public Health at the University of Maryland. Now, don’t get me wrong. This is a dissertation research that can help me to plant my flag in the academic community. The fact that I have never travelled outside United States since I was born made the offer to be more enticing too. Not only that, I was somehow convinced that this will be an opportunity for me to meet my long lost dad who, according to my late mum, is a Nigerian. In spite of that, I did not accept the offer  immediately. I had wanted to make sure that it is for real, you know.

If what I  have been reading in the newspapers are accurate, the 1960s was actually a bad  period  for Nigeria. The country  gained independence and said goodbye to Britain in 1960. A   year later, the country started going through a series of riots and political instability that destroyed the fragile trust existing among the Hausas, the Ibos, and the Yorubas, who were  the most prominent among the two hundred fifty  ethic groups in the country. This was followed by even more riots and violence in which many people lost their lives. It was total chaos. And it was at this time, when the country is embroiled in a charged political turmoil, that my dissertation committee decided to send me there to conduct a research.

Now, the Department of Public Health at the University of Maryland received a big grant from the National Institute of Health(NIH)  for their research on tropical diseases. Convinced that Nigeria had a large population and better health facilities when compared to its African neighbors, my department chose to fund research on malaria in that country. Not only that, the malaria parasite seemed to be endemic in Nigeria, which made their choice look logical. Since none of the professors are willing to risk going there due to the state of the country at the time, they called a meeting to look for a sacrificial lamb. At the time, I was an ABD(all but dissertation) graduate student. ‘ABD’ is a term used to describe a doctoral student who has completed all the course work and comprehensive exams and is about to start his research. So when the department needed somebody they could trust  to carry out this research, who’s better than me?  I have been in that department for only three years  and I had the whole professors amazed because of my stellar grades. And who was the best person to send to me if not Dr Black, my committee chair?

Dr Black was a powerful man in Maryland  at the time. He even plays gulf with Millard Tawes,  the state governor at the time. But Dr Black also took orders. So when he was told to reach out to me, he did what he was told. Deep inside me I knew this was a good opportunity for me. I mean, who could resist? Without the offer, I will be just a regular graduate student, always broke, hassled by professors who will be supervising my doctoral research. But with this offer, I will be researcher Jideofor Okorie, a well-paid foreign scientist in Nigeria. I will not only be independent but will be running a full lab with workers under me, and in the academic community that is a big deal.

But, like I said before, I wanted to make sure they were not bluffing when they sent Dr. Black to me. So I pretended to resist the offer.

“No disrespect Dr. Black,” I said. “I don’t know how I could do this. I am an inexperienced researcher anyway, for Christ’s sake!  Nigeria’s Health Ministry would never give me the necessary co-operation I need for this study. ”

“Of course they will,” he replied. “Malaria is endemic in that country, accounting for more than 60 percent hospital visits. There are more deaths due to malaria in that country  than any other African country and they really need help in keeping the disease in check.”

“What happens if they refuse to work with me?”  I asked.

“Why would they refuse?” He replied, looking surprised. “We are putting in almost $40 million in that country to help them deal with a deadly disease. So why would they lock us out?”

I kept quiet for a while, then said: “This is really a tough proposition Dr Black. I want to graduate quick because I have student loans to pay. This study will take a long time to complete and the more I stay in school, the more I will have to borrow and pay for my tuition.”

“If you accept this proposition, you will plant your flag in the academic community; and, when  you do that, believe me,  you won’t have to worry about your student loan because the university will take care of it,” he said, smiling.

To me, that was really a great news. My student loans erased? It was music to my ears. I mean, that’s really good.

“ If I did it, I’d have to run the whole research  my way, sir,” I said. “And, I’m serious. Not interference from the department or the Research Board.”

“Nobody gonna interfere with you conducting this research Mr. Jideofor Okorie.  I guarantee that,” he promised. Then he added, “How did you got that name ‘Jideofor’ anyway?”

“My dad was a foreign student from Nigeria,” I explained.  “My mum met him when he was studying Chemistry at John Hopkins University. They later broke up and he went back to Nigeria after his studies. Soon my mum found out that she was pregnant with me, but she couldn’t locate my dad. So she gave me his name.”

“So, that makes you a Nigerian?” he asked.

“I suppose so” I said.

“Very interesting story!,” he said. “You see, your Nigerian heritage actually means you are the right person to conduct this research. Who knows – you may end up locating your father.”

That statement lit a candle inside my mind. I had thought about it before, and now he had said it. That is indeed true!  I became even more excited that they chose me for this research. Visiting my father’s land in Africa can be a big score. My mum told me that my father is from the Ibo tribe, and that he told her that Nigerians can trace their kindred using their last names.  I decided that as soon as I’m done with the research, I will look for my father. What a happy reunion it will be!

So with my paper work ready within two weeks, I was shipped down to Nigeria in the harmattan season of 1965. On reaching Nigeria, I was introduced to my contact person, a man named Michael Reddington. An investigative journalist from United States, Mr. Eddington was a slim man, with a short brown beard and small, brown eyes. He was a black American like myself, and he was  the person who introduced me to the big shorts in Nigeria’s Federal Ministry of Health in Lagos. He was also very smart – he was able to cut through all the red tapes and, within two months, I have my lab and two lab assistants, and my research took off without any hitch. Another good thing is that he lives in the same building that I was staying – basically, he lives in a flat on the top floor of the same building. This means that I can easily contact him if I needed more help, you know.

END OF EPISODE 1

P.S. Episode 2  will be published here next Sunday.