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| Anayo Nwosu |
My
first daughter resembles me so much than I had wished. I wanted her to copy her
mother’s beauty but she turned out to look like me. Mimi, my daughter is also so attached to me more than her other
siblings. She is my Ada (i.e. first daughter). Most first daughters are closer
to their dads than they are to their mums.
She
had followed me to court a couple of times that the hearing dates of my matter
fell on school holidays. She was in court when the case was adjourned for judgment;
so, she knew the judgment date. But she had to go back to school before then.
She is a boarder hence when the judgment didn’t go well, I was relieved that
she and her other siblings in boarding school would be carefully managed into
the new reality when they closed for Christmas holidays.
My
inquisitive daughter wouldn’t wait for her school to close by the weekend to
hear the news of my acquittal from court. A whole lot had been stalled by the
court case that restricted my travelling overseas. My children were hoping for
a family vacation abroad once the court freed me, the first since 2011. I had
promised my kids a France-UK-Rome-USA round trip and had already paid for it
but all that had to be cancelled on August 2012.
I had
gone to EFCC to notify them that I would be travelling on the 10th of August
with my family on vacation and would be away for a month. They immediately
detained me and demanded for my passport. They hurriedly arraigned my case
mates and me on 12 August 2012. It was like an ambush. I had to cancel the
tickets and hotel reservations to a huge disillusionment to my children.
It was
this same court case that restrained me from resuming as the Managing Director
of Orient Bank of Uganda in 2013. I had to decline the offer hoping for a
better opportunity thereafter. It's not good to go to a new place, a new
country with a controversial baggage. It was an opportunity that would have
placed me higher in my banking profession than I am now. But as we tell the
unfortunate in Nnewi, "do you know what God saved
you by a lost opportunity".
Back
in her school, my daughter wanted to hear the good news that the nightmare was
over. I learnt that she suddenly noticed a change in the attitude of her close
friends especially the day-students. They appeared to have something to tell
her but couldn’t voice it out. They had heard on Channels News about want
happened; that her father had been jailed for 5 years. She too was feeling
something she couldn't place.
My
wife had visited my daughter in school a day after my conviction to drop
materials she had requested via email. My daughter was surprised that her mum
didn’t make any effort to see her. She tried to call me with a day student's
phone and I was not picking my calls.
When
my daughter couldn’t bear it anymore she just found her way to the Internet.
She typed my name and the story that greeted her made her shout and collapse
into the hands of her friends who had been following her around like personal
guards. She was wailing uncontrollably, making the school management to call
her mum to come pick her. Her other siblings were to break for Christmas by
that weekend.
My
direct supervisor and the acting managing director of my bank, as he then was,
did something that makes a staff become loyal to an organization for life and
even in death. He called my wife that he would be visiting my home to explain
what happened to my children, neighbours and townsmen in Lagos.
That
was novel and staff affairs management taken to another level! Some employers
wouldn't go this far. But Keystone Bank Limited
did. They did what an American or Israeli government would do for a family of a
faithful soldier in captivity. My Oga arrived at my house as scheduled. He told
my kids that their father was not a criminal, that he had just encountered an
occupational hazard, that I just sold a bank's product and never compromised in
any way and that the bank would do all that was legally possible to secure my
release. He assured them that they would lack nothing while I was away. That
was reassuring enough. So, the bank did more than they promised, making my
traditional ruler, my uncle to send them a letter of appreciation and
commendation.
My Oga
also addressed my neighbours and a score of Nnewi community mostly from
Ezeoguine Royal Family in Lagos, telling them that my integrity was intact and
that bank was pleased with me and could attest to my reputation and
professionalism. He promised to get the best of the legal minds in Nigeria to
argue my appeal up to Supreme Court. He took all the anxious questions from my
neighbours and townsmen and answered them to a great applause. The meeting
ended with an earthshaking prayer led by my priceless cousin and chairman of my
extended family. He demanded for miracle from God.
My
boss' visit to my house and particularly his meeting with my children was very
significant to me. The kids were already feeling disappointed in me. My son
particularly would be wondering how come I was not practising in my office what
I preached at home. He is like me in radical thoughts. He questions the
unquestionable.
I had
at every opportunity taught my children the need for integrity, charity and the
gains in abhorring criminality as Mama Obiora, my mum, had taught me. I would
boast to them that I could explain every asset I have. They had seen me on many
occasions dash out those the used vehicles I no longer needed to relatives and
strangers. I had flogged them mercilessly for little misbehaviours like taking
anything they didn’t keep without permission. I was trying to be a perfect dad
like most of the priests, pastors and general overseers of Nigerian churches
who look sinless and perfect. I hide my worst sides from my kids and manage not
to commit professional lies in their presence.
One of
the most painful parts of my court conviction was how my eldest daughter who I
enjoined not to cheat in her upcoming GCE and SSCE exams would view me.
Wouldn’t she think that I was a pretender who committed fraud in the secret and
would preach holiness to her and her siblings like "solu okwu ọnụ m hapụ
ije ụkwụ m" or "menemene n’iru kwọmpete n'azụ" (i.e a mark of an
artful pretender). The magnificent efforts of my office Ọga to sanctify or
canonise me before my folks and a promise of an early resolution and my
vindication didn't entirely remove the trauma from my last child, a 13 year
old.
Ọma,
my last child resembles her mom but got all my good traits. She insisted on
visiting me in the prison. She wanted to talk to me. And she was obliged. I was
surprised to behold my entire household in prison on that fateful Sunday about
5 days after I was jailed. We had our family lunch together. As I cleared my
throat to explain to my children what happened and how I ended up in prison,
they chorused "we already know, your MD was in our
house". And my 13 year old continued, "Daddy
we are so proud of you. Never mind what has happened to you, you will come out
celebrated". And I cried for the first time since I arrived
Kirikiri Maximum Prison. I was broken.
I was
amazed at the confidence with which my daughter spoke to me, how motherly she
was, how convincing she was. She ended by saying "as
you have always told us, the just shall live by faith. We shall continue
praying for you so that you would soon be released sooner than you can imagine
because you don't belong here". I observed that my son was busy
studying the entire prison environment as far as his gaze could go. I knew that
he was diverting her mind not to focus on my ordeal. I had taught him "na
nwoke na eli n'ude" meaning that "a real man masks his sorrow and
doesn't show same by crying aloud". He wanted to visit my cell. He wanted
to check if it was hygienic. When I asking why he was more interested in the
prison environment than my leaving the prison early he smiled and said, "Daddy I just wanted to know. By the way your boss
assured us that you would soon be out", he said and continued his
environmental scanning. “Boys would always be boys", I enthused feeling
happy that a man is being made out of him.
My
first daughter was quiet all these while. She was moody and couldn't
successfully hide her sorrows. When I intently looked at her, she started
sobbing making her siblings to reprimand her saying, "but we agreed that
nobody will cry her. If you cry now what do you expect Daddy to do?" And
we, including my wife, all cried as a relief and desert for the family lunch we
ate. They stayed with me up till 5pm and left.
It
became a ritual of a family visit and lunch every Saturday and Sunday until
they all returned to school. My children left with an assurance to pray me out
of prison. We were spiritually confident that my appeal slated for April 23,
2020 would end in my favour. All of a sudden, Corona virus menace became
pandemic and was spreading fast in Nigeria. The president had to lockdown
Lagos, Ogun and Abuja. It was becoming obvious that my appeal hearing on April
23 wouldn't hold.
And I
slipped into despondency. I didn't pray for four days. I was feeling that what
was happening was not in sync with my prayer points. I didn’t know that God had
another plan. But I kept having this feeling of a miraculous release. It was
not until the early morning of April 28, 2020 (five days after my court of
appeal hearing date was supposed to hold but couldn't) that the man in charge
of Kirikiri Maximum Prison sent for me.
"Anayo, who and what do you worship? What makes you
thick?" the man
in charge of prison asked me. And I answered "I
worship in that St. Stephen's Catholic Church inside the prison sir. I'm a
Catholic and pray my daily Rosary and I know that many people of God are
praying for me including the members of Nnewi traditional religion
practioners".
The
man in charge announced, "I have your release
order here. You have been pardoned by the state governor. You're restored the
way you were before you were accused and jailed by the state judiciary meaning
that your conviction has been quashed and it's not subject to appeal. This
instrument makes you forever innocent of the offenses that brought you here and
I'm happy for you but most importantly, don't change; keep doing whatever you
were doing that earned you this pardon", he ended with another
handshake.
I
crumbled as Kanu Nwankwo did after scoring that clincher goal at Atlanta '96. I
cried like baby. I was in a state of confusion but had to compose myself to
call my wife from a phone booth to come pick me. I also called my cousin
Azubuike who live nearby and Echezona that has become a younger brother I lost
in Tochukwu who died in 2008. They all arrived at the same time. They initially
thought that I was joking.
Do you
know that I forgot to carry the bag containing my clothes as I was rushing out
of the prison into freedom? That freedom only God can give. When I got home, my
children chorused "Daddy, but we told you that you
would be freed in a miraculous way". I smiled and asked them to
excuse me for some minutes that I wanted to discuss with their mother in
private, in my room. They looked at each other and smiled. And they never disturbed
us. It is has been a long 141 days away from my bed.
----------------------------------------------
This
is a real life experience written by
Anayo
Nwosu
anayonwosu@icloud.com
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