BY Guest Writer
BY VICTOR AKHIDENOR
Sometimes they come whenever the Super Eagles are having a match. But it always comes every August 12 and then you walk to Surulere. You pass Ojuelegba roundabout; ignore the “boli” seller in front of the fire service station which is before the turn to Tejuosho Street.
Your mind is not on haggling, buying, selling, window shopping and the like taking place in the popular market on the street. You move on.
You get to your destination – the National Stadium.
The National Stadium in Surulere, Lagos doesn’t say “faded glory”. It doesn’t really say anything at all. Yes, it’s a historic arena, but it is no longer aesthetically pleasing. It is in fact an eyesore from the outside. From the inside? Forget it!
But then, it’s not what memories are telling you.
Memories say it was few minutes to the end of the match between Nigeria and Angola that Samuel Okwaraji slumped on the pitch of the National Stadium, 27 years ago today.
Memories say that Samson Siasia, the closest player to the dreadlocks-wearing player on the pitch when it happened, beckoned on the medical crew after failing to resuscitate his fallen mate.
Memories also say that five fans at the stadium went to the land-of-no-return like the midfield maestro on that day.
Memories say things like that.
Now it reminds you of the need for food and beer and you answer the call of the stomach. You order fried rice, snail and Heineken at Ojays Restaurant and Bar inside the premises of the stadium.
While waiting to be served, memories again remind you of your last trip to Owerre-Umudioka in Orlu local government area of Imo state – the village of Okwaraji. A single-carriage road, like the centre line of a football pitch, divides the village in two parts. Buildings dot both sides of the road with more hidden behind the bushes.
It is a peaceful-looking village but then motorcycles, bicycles and cars plying the road honk their horns intermittently to add “life” to the environment. Some people are seen inside the few beer parlours on the road. Some are patronising the few odds-and-ends stores around. Recharge card kiosks are not left behind. There’s even a pool house for napping and perming of football league results!
A few metres down the road is a sign welcoming you to Domas Hotel, the signpost we were told to look out for. It leads to the place we seek; we are reminded after we mistakenly drive past. We veer off the road to connect a bumpy road leading to the hotel. And then you look opposite it and behold the reason for the journey from Lagos – the family house and the mini-castle housing the remains of Sam Okwaraji.
Sam’s resting place wears a sorry look…
The aroma of the food in front of you wakes you up from your reverie. And you notice, for the first time, a man and a boy sharing your table. A glance at the man’s face says he was in his 20s when Okwaraji died. And his companion whom you assume is his son? Maybe in his teens then. Maybe he wasn’t even born then.
You bring up the subject on Okwaraji with your new friends and the man’s face lights up.
“Such a wonderful player,” he says.
“He was very skillful yet disciplined. Quite sad he died at the peak of his powers.”
The boy does not carry the man’s memory.
“Austin Okocha would have dribbled the entire Angolan team and convincingly won the game for Nigeria,” the boy says.
He even predicts a scoreline: 5-0 in favour of the Super Eagles.
You smile because memories say the game ended 1-0 from a headed goal by captain Stephen Keshi.
After exchanging some more banter, you pay your bill and walk towards the exit of the National Stadium. You hit the “new” stadium across the road.
You walk away from the “new” stadium – the Teslim Balogun Stadium – because it doesn’t hold your memory. (Sorry, Teslim!)
The man and the boy drive past. They wave at you. And you wave back.
“Austin Okocha would have dribbled the entire Angolan team and convincingly won the game for Nigeria.”
You smile.
Memories are indeed made of these.
Adieu, Sam!
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