I had just been elected to represent my hall (Paradise Hostel) at the Students’ Representative Council 93/94. I was in 200 level and was just cutting my teeth politically on campus. I was outspoken, and in my 100 level, I had been elected as the General Secretary of the hall. That was unprecedented for someone in 100 level then, who couldn’t vote and shouldn’t be voted for. By the time I got to my second year, I was the preferred candidate to represent the hall.
As the day of inauguration of the members drew nearer, someone called my attention to the sale of forms for officers of the SRC. Initially, I didn’t give it much thought, but on the last day of sale of the forms, I decided to take a chance.
I bought a form to vie for the office of the Deputy Speaker of the SRC. I consulted members of my hall, and comments from a few of them were that I was a latecomer but it was worth giving a try.
Opportunities don’t always announce themselves. Will you be ready when yours comes? Share on XApart from my small hall, where I was quite known, I was basically an unknown quantity on campus. I didn’t even know I would be contesting against four more formidable and better known candidates. All of them were also my seniors and had been on campus longer than I.
As we filed into the room designated for the inauguration of the ‘house’, one of my hall residents, who, though my senior, had taken a special interest in my case, beckoned to me from outside. A crowd had gathered to watch our inauguration and also witness the vying for the positions of the officers of the SRC. I quickly left the room, and he introduced me to a short fellow.
Apparently in a haste, the short fellow asked me a series of questions: Why was I contesting? What was my manifesto? Did I think I had the capacity to preside over the house with my zero experience in campus politics? I’m not sure I answered them to his satisfaction because his face was blank, and he gave no commitments. I went back to the room.
A few minutes later, our names were reeled out, and all five of us filed out to the front of the room. I felt a tightening in my stomach as I surveyed all the faces in the room. I looked at my other competitors.
My heart sank as all four of them were hailed when their names were called, but no one hailed when my name was mentioned. My throat felt dry even as my palms became sweaty and clammy. My heart beat very fast. Anxiety welled up in me. I rehearsed some of my lines, but I forgot some. That was not the best of times to suffer a memory lapse.
And then the first candidate was called up. Then the second candidate. And then the third and the fourth. Each person had only three minutes to talk about their manifesto. I don’t remember what they all said because they were hailed almost endlessly by the crowd of supporters outside or by their supporters within the house. To date, I still don’t know why I was called last. Maybe it was arranged on the basis of how the forms were purchased. Or maybe they thought I should come last because I wasn’t known. But it didn’t matter anymore—I had made up my mind that I would give it my best shot. So I stepped forward and gave what still remains one of the best speeches of my life.
It was a three-minute moment that would later define my entire stay on that campus. I could see that I held everyone spell-bound with my power of oratory. I gesticulated at the right places. I watched my pitch. I ensured my pronunciation was right and proper. And then I looked the part—I always put on a shirt with a well-knotted tie and a pair of suspenders on campus.
I knew that I had to round off my speech in such a manner that would leave the audience begging for more. I had chosen the right close-off remarks. I understood my audience perfectly. It was one that was moved by the power of words even when they didn’t understand the meaning. And that was how I said, ‘When you desire, you aspire; even when you perspire, you don’t retire, but you refire until you have acquired.’ There was an eruption of applause.
Everyone stood up and started shouting in vernacular, ‘Even if you don’t say any more, you’re already the winner.’ For minutes, no one could calm the crowd. It was an exhilarating moment for me and one that will remain indelible in my memory.
And then it was time for voting. I saw consultations going on. I knew I had confused a few people. I could sense alliances shift. I saw a few faces looking at me again just to be sure. The votes were cast. Against all odds, I won convincingly, and I was elected Deputy Speaker of the SRC. I would later hold other posts on campus and also get elected as the President of the Students’ Union Government a few years later.
The victory came in a moment, but the preparation had been over time. Right from secondary school, I was used to reading books and ‘cramming’ quotations. In SS3, I had told my seatmate that I would contest for the presidency of the Students’ Union when I get to the university.
You may feel unknown today. Keep preparing. Your moment will come. Share on XThose were the days of ‘Big Sam’ of the former University of Ife, and I was fascinated by his stories of activism. I had rehearsed various speeches for several hours standing in front of a mirror. While waiting to be admitted into the university, I located a library in Ibadan called A Day Shall Come Christian Library around Oluyole Town Planning. I spent days in that library reading self-help and other books. Those books boosted my self-confidence in no small way.
Most people pray for opportunities, but are you prepared when your opportunities come? Most opportunities come unannounced. Good luck is nothing more than preparation meeting with opportunity. A winning effort starts with preparation.
A great writer must have spent years reading. That’s preparation. An outstanding singer must have spent much time honing his/her skills and taking music lessons. That’s preparation. It may take hours, days, months or even years. But without preparation, success is a mirage and victory is uncertain.
Your opportunity will come. But will you be prepared?