It is neither for eloquence nor erudition that history treasures Abraham Lincoln’s Gettysburg Address, Martin Luther King Jr.’s I Have a Dream, Winston Churchill We Shall Fight on Beaches, Benjamin Franklin’s A Day in Infamy, and other great speeches it has engraved on the marble of time. It was exactly because Lincoln spoke to the hearts – not to the heads – of those gathered at Gettysburg for the burial of the fallen heroes of the Civil War that every American child is now made to memorize that speech’s opening. It was because the Reverend Martin Luther King Jr. spoke from the depths of his heart to the bottom of the over 200,000 hearts assembled at Washington DC’s Lincoln Memorial on August 28, 1963, that his I Have a Dream still echoes ‘from here to the moon and back.’ It was equally because Prime Minister Winston Churchill aimed at the heart of the British people that his We Shall Fight on Beaches became a game-changer for their World War II experience. How was it that a merely seven-minute-long speech was able to move a Joint Session of US Congress to declare full scale war on the Empire of Japan within the hour? It was because President Benjamin Franklin took over them with his Infamy Speech. Lincoln’s Gettysburg Address was even shorter, having lasted just 2 minutes and with a word-count of 272. The point is: great speeches minister to the heart.

To start with, why does next to everyone who knows her call her Anty Dayo? Mrs. Dayo Benjamins-Laniyi is called Anty Dayo because she so knows her way in and around next to everyone’s heart that one only gets to resist calling her mother – since doing so may be too much of a gesture. Though I met her just ones, it already feels like I’ve known her all my life; though I listened to her a couple of minutes, it feels like I’ve been her student like forever already. Anty Dayo stands out from the herd as simple, real, true, and authentic; she speaks with passion and affection; she connects with humility and empathy. Her diction is clear and her words as challenging as reassuring. And I just sat there. Listening. Enthralled. Staring. Wondering. Imagining. And questioning, “Where do I go from here?”

The date was October 15, 2016, exactly 48 hours away from Anty Dayo’s 51st birthday. The venue was Bolingo Hotel and Towers, Central Business District, Abuja. The event was the 3rd Motivators International Youth Organization Annual Conference. And I was there. Live! Looking back at that day, and everything that went with it, I can’t help but wonder if there would have been a better place on this planet to have been on that day. No doubt, too, the sacrifice of time and money was well worth it, having to have journeyed all the way from Enugu to be in attendance.

Of course, I’d always known that I’m fearfully and wonderfully made. I’d always read that humans are capable of attaining legendary heights and achieving incredible feats. I’d always been told that ‘impossible’ is only a word, that ‘yes we can.’ Though I’d known stuff, yet I was still fearful and fantastically undecided. Though I’d read stuff, yet I was still playing small. Though I’d been told stuff, yet I really didn’t believe stuff. Definitely, just being in the know of things has never been enough, merely reading good books amounts to little, and simply listening to revered and game-changing speakers can’t do much. But Anty Dayo beat all of my doubts to it. I left Bolingo’s Planet Hall convinced that that day had become the first day of the rest of my life, and that the word beautiful is actually a shortening of be you to the full, the realization of which has set me on the pursuit of authenticity – like never before.

Who is Dayo Benjamins-Laniyi? While you try finding out for yourself, I shall do a piece on her. Soon. However, let me leave you a clue: Doxa Digital Nig. Ltd. That’d help.

The Holy Bible comes down to us as a perfect book. Personally, I would have been surprised if the very Word of the Perfect God is found wanting on the scale of perfection. And, needless to say that the perfection of the Bible, aside drawing from the perfection of its Author, leans against the backdrop that there is next to no issue that wasn’t addressed therein, such that almost every positive book in print is nothing but a commentary on one or more themes in the Bible. For instance, Norman Vincent Pearle’s monumental The Power of Positive Thinking is nothing but a commentary on chapter four verse thirteen of Paul’s letter to the Philippians. Pearle confessed it himself in the introduction of that book.

One recurrent theme in the Bible is ‘leadership.’ And employing many practical examples to driving down leadership ideals, especially from the great leadership tradition of the Sons of Israel, which God had established himself, for he himself was their first king, it remains the most sought after and reliable piece of literature on leadership. It is exactly for this reason that we are taking off our reflection on leadership, precisely the servant-leadership model, from the Bible. To say the least, the very idea of servant-leader is of scriptural origin; Jesus Christ himself authored it, and practically launched it on Maundy Thursday.

And then it happened in 1 Samuel 8:5 that the Sons of Israel demanded for a king. They envied other nations’ kingship, to the extent that they became dissatisfied with their Theocracy, which featured God himself as their king with Judges for His mouthpiece. Samuel, due to age, had just made his sons, Joel and Abijah, Judges in his stead, but his sons’ ways gave them a cause for concern, given that they were perverse. They wanted a king instead, a king they could see, feel and touch. They wanted a king that could ‘physically’ lead their army to war. They wanted a king that would help them forge alliances with other nations. And, they wanted a king that would be a visible expression of their greatness and might. Although they immediately premised their demand on their vote-of-no-confidence on the sons of Samuel, they expressed their deepest hunger.

Being mediator between the people and God, Samuel goes ahead to make known their request to God. On this, God made their wish His command. But He does them one favour, requesting Samuel to hint them on the rights and privileges due to a human king. And on this note, and recorded in 1 Samuel 8:11-17, Samuel made them this list: He will make your sons his servants and those of his commanders, they will plough his fields and reap his harvest, he will conscript your daughters to the service of his household, he will assign the best of your fields to his friends, and you yourselves will become his slaves [paraphrased]. To say the least, in this hint lies the understanding of what I call the classic leadership model, and next to every leadership type and style on earth (charismatic, traditional, political; democratic, monarchical, oligarchic, gerontocratic, autocratic, etc.) largely draws inspiration from it.

The hallmark of classic leadership is service to the leader. Let me immediately say that there is no doubt that ‘service to the people’ is an already implied meaning of leadership, but that is ‘really’ not the case in classic leadership, as the classic leader is so exalted that the ‘purported service’ he/she renders is an expression of pride or mercy; to have the leader serve – in the practical sense of that word – is, as a matter of fact, an act of condescension. The classic leader is so exalted that he/she becomes identical to the people; his/her will becomes the will of the people, and not the other way round. And this would find full expression in King Louis XIV of France, who identified himself as the State (L’Etat c’est moi). The people paid tribute to him, did him homage, served him, and, when need arose, laid down their lives for him.

There are a number of theories from where classic leadership got its characterization, such as Thomas Hobbes’ enthronement of the Leviathan following from his origin of the state. For him, the leader had to be a [logical] product, a monster so to speak, of an aggregation of all the people. He had to wield absolute power to help turn the fortunes of a state of nature characterized by brutality, nastiness, poverty and shortness around. Drawing from this, the classic leader is so exalted in order to smack down the pride of many a man, and secure conformity in the process. Seen from this light, there is no doubt that this is a good thing, but there is more.

While the Gospel of John chapter one verse fourteen relates that the Word [that was God] became flesh and dwelt among us, Acts of the Apostles chapter ten verse thirty-eight reports that He went about doing good, and the Gospel of Mark chapter seven verse thirty-seven concluded that He did all things well. In Christ, God came down from heaven to not only restore our lot but to show us the way to happiness. And one critical sector of human social engineering he revolutionized was the leadership sector. The God whose first leadership approach (theocracy) was rejected would show up again, not giving up on His children, with a new approach (servant-leadership), an approach that would change everything forever. In this approach, especially, he would come down in flesh, live among, be one with them in everything (including suffering but not sin), and walked through their towns and villages freeing them from the forces of sickness, poverty, and evil bent on dominating them.

Now, Jesus didn’t intend his servant-leadership model to be observed in passing. No. He did give a full lecture on it – in action first, and then in words. On Maundy Thursday, the day preceding his suffering and death, while at table for supper with ‘those who were his own in the world,’ he not only showed them the depth of his love for them, but left them a ritual to perform for all time to come. I don’t mean the Eucharist here, I mean servant-leadership. Read up the full gist from the gospels.

Let’s look at the significant points: all of a sudden he stands up, removes his outer garment, girds his waist with a towel, pours water into a basin, stoops down at feet of the first person and begins to wash them with water and wiping them with the towel. He proceeds to the next, and the next, and the next, until he got to the very vocal and protesting Peter. After the washing of feet went round, he returned to his seat at the head of the table, and then opens his mouth to speak the lessons. He begins with a question, “Do you understand what I have done to you?” Being of the classic leadership order they surely couldn’t understand. As even the impetuous Peter was yet to recover from his shock, Jesus continued, “You call me lord, master, and teacher; that I am. If I then, your lord and teacher, have washed your feet, then you must wash one another’s feet” (cf. John 13:14). Remember that washing of feet was done by slaves; the master now did it.

To do a full commentary on the Last Supper episode, especially as it concerns leadership, will gulp down space and time. However, this summary is critical: in servant-leadership, the leader really and truly serves, empties him/herself out for the followers, goes with them every inch of the journey, shows them the way not just by words but by deeds, calms their fears and dries their tears, lights up their darkness and waters their dryness, bandages their wounds and mends their broken hearts, and goes with them not just a long way but all the way.

One may immediately be wondering how this is possible in a complex and complicated society like ours. Simple enough: it behooves on the servant-leader to put in place institutions that would ride with the flow of servant-leadership. And although many leaders now do a blend of classic leadership and servant-leadership, unadulterated servant-leadership remains the very best.

About a month ago, a man I respected so much and admired from a distance insulted me. Perhaps he didn’t mean to, but he did. And he certainly didn’t know I felt insulted since I didn’t give him the slightest hint; I maintained my calm, kept my eyes glued to the floor, and endeavored not to take the insult personal. What was it all about, you may already be wondering. Simple: he needed to go through my work before endorsing some papers for me, and this was what he fired at me after reading the very first paragraph, “Sometimes you people write like you’re not graduates, not to talk of being graduates of the University of Nigeria. How can you be writing ‘My Nigeria’?” That I referred to Nigeria as ‘my Nigeria’ was my crime, for which I wasn’t a good writer, and for which my finishing from the University of Nigeria is questionable. However, I both laughed last and best when I observed he was nodding at subsequent paragraphs; he’d judged me too soon.

Leaving his office that day, it dawned on me that the one crime I’d love to keep committing, if it is indeed a crime, is say and write ‘my Nigeria.’ It is my Nigeria because it is the only country I can proudly call home, and the late Chinua Achebe would insist that ‘home is home’ – no matter what and where! Saying and writing ‘My Nigeria’ also confers on me a burden of responsibility, the responsibility of giving to Nigeria rather than only asking this or that of her. Yes, ‘my Nigeria’ confers a sense of ownership!

Today, the 56th independence anniversary of ‘my Nigeria,’ it behooves on me to think differently – and positively. It is a duty. I’ve to keep this in mind because the temptation to think otherwise abound. 99.9% of the things that would be said and written about Nigeria today will chronicle her tales of woes; the US in congratulating Nigeria already said she has a long way to go. Today, some will talk about her failure to get leadership right, some will lament her dilapidated infrastructure, some will decry her perennial romance with corruption, and some will report inefficiency of her various institutions of governance. And they will all be correct, since a whole lot is going terribly wrong in this clime. In fact, ‘my Nigeria’ seems to be cruising on the speed lane but doing so in reverse gear, a good example being the daily free fall of Naira to Dollar – it’s been falling as fast as it takes a drop of rain to hit the ground from the clouds.

Today, I must think differently – and I’m on it already. I must ask myself of what use I am to the ‘Nigerian project.’ I must tell myself the truth about what contribution I’m making towards the way forward. I must think about how ready I’m getting to feature among the next generation of Nigerian leaders. I must resolve to criticize those at the hem of affairs only constructively, and never insanely. Today, I must personally think differently. And I hope I’m not going to be doing that alone. I hope a number of other Nigerians will do same, especially you.

God bless Nigeria. Always.

This is the very third piece on Samuel Jideofor Okonkwo ‘Sammie’ on this blog. Don’t bother wondering why, because I’m just about to let the cat out of the bag. Simply, Sammie ‘is’ my teacher, and he’s such an inspiration that the best I can do for God and the rest of the world is to share him, to talk about him. Heaven and earth, and even hell, know that what I’m doing is right and just. lol! And the choice of sharing him with friends and the virtual public has yielded much fruits: Sammie’s story has inspired many and challenged many more. He promises to inspire you, too. To catch up on our gist on Lagos Island, the very first of the ‘Sammie series,’ check here. To catch up on the longest day of Sammie’s life, his recruitment day, check here. The present piece is a sequel to his recruitment day story.

When on that faithful day, January 14, 2011, while a finalist in the Department of History and International Studies, University of Nigeria, he signed up with Blogger, and then did his first post on ‘Atiku,’ Sammie didn’t know, and how could he have known, that the decision to start blogging will make all the difference in his life three years away. Funnily enough, that first blog post only got published on the third attempt; what if he’d given up after the first or second attempt? And then Sammie has kept at blogging until tomorrow, which is to say that he has consistently blogged for more than five years; five years and eight months to be precise. However, there is something else about Sammie’s blogging that I’m up to in this piece.

The last story about Sammie, his recruitment day, ended on the joyful note that he succeeded in beating his stiffnecked competition. But I left a hint that there is more, and this is it: he didn’t land the job that day. Yes, three of six got eliminated, but none of the remaining three got an offer; the recruiters still wanted one more out, since they had the mandate go trim the 42,000+ qualified applicants down to just 2. There was no vacancy for three, it was just for two. However, something more happened there: the recruiters had exhausted all their recruitment strategies, and couldn’t afford to play unfair; they knew ethics. In addition, they were willing to stop at nothing to trim down three to two. It was a tall order. What they did next will shock you.

They flew the last three standing to the headquarters of the multinational, and turned them in to the MD, asking him to make his pick by whatever yardstick he chose, given that they’d exceeded their elastic limit and were already breaking. But the MD wasn’t willing to make such a crucial pick alone, and chose to do it in the company of his continental heads. The task was tough: the very best two had to be picked from the very best three. This is exactly where the story gets interesting…

They were to appear before the panel of bosses one after the other, and Sammie was the last in the order of calling in. After all, ladies first. And may it not shock you that the two others were ladies. These days ladies slay, you know. Each of the other two spent an average of 45mins answering all manner of questions, and you can trust that they were those sort of questions that the how of answering was more important than the what of answering. And then Sammie was up for his turn…

This is the highpoint of the story. Sammie had barely walked into the room when the MD called him by his name, “You’re Sammie, right?” Of course, you may want to think that he had his CV before him, but he went on to add, “I read your blog.” ‘Read’ is not past tense; it’s in the sense that he follows his blog. You may also want to think that the MD was playing smart, such that he only checked it out after he was handed Sammie’s CV. You’re wrong. Yes, because what followed next will shock you. The MD raised up for discuss with Sammie a post he’d done a long time ago – on a tennis player they fan in common. I remember that name: Djokovic. That lasted barely 2mins. Then the MD raised another blog title on Nigerian politics. Lasted barely 2mins again. And that was it! He then asked Sammie to be on his way already.

You can guess that Sammie was as shocked as he was afraid. He didn’t know what to make of that encounter. Given that he spent barely 5mins in there when others had spent about 45, and given that he got to answer next to no serious question, he didn’t know what to expect; his fears told him he was out. But not him, one of the ladies was. He got the job! Of course, there is no fair policy that says an employment of two must be male and female; in case you’re starting to think that one of those ladies inevitably gave way for Sammie. That would have happened on recruitment day already. They even got her back months later when an emergency opening surfaced.

The moral of the story: every little counts. Even amateur blogging can make all the difference on judgement day.

It was on a Sunday, the 18th day of September 2016 to be precise, and I went in the company of two incredible friends, Vivian the Great and Vingabby. Kickoff time was 4pm (GMT+1), and the battle line was drawn between Rangers International Football Club of Enugu and Sunshine Stars of Akure at the Nnamdi Azikiwe Stadium, Enugu. The long and short of the game is that after toughing it out for 90+3mins, the game ended in favour of Rangers; 2:0 to be precise.

It was my very first live match, and I made sure nothing stood in my way of attendance that evening, not even the threatening rain. I actually thought I was too old not to have witnessed a live match off-screen, just as I had to storm Lagos earlier this year because I’d always thought it was such a shame that an above twenty-year-old Nigerian who claims to love Nigeria was yet to step his feet on the Main- and Island of Lagos.

I came to break that jinx, I came to have fun, but I ended up in a classroom. The bowl of the stadium had turned into a classroom, other spectators became my classmates, the pitch metamorphosed into the ‘smartboard,’ and the players and the reality of football, being the teacher, graciously dished out the following lessons.

Life is a game

Biblical parables often compared the kingdom of God to this or to that – merchant, king, sower, virgins, feasts, etc. On this occasion, observing the players and the field of play, I came to the realization that life can indeed be likened to a football game. Or, put differently, and better, football aptly showcases the dynamics of life: the goal, the timing, the fouling, the cards, the linesmen, the spectators, the applauding and boos, the fun, the referee, the etc. To merely say that the leather ball game mimics real life is to say it lightly.

The two kinds of people

It has always been about Actors Vs Spectators. That day, I inevitably found myself – and everyone else off pitch – occupying the spectator position. While the players did the sweating, the rest of us had fun watching them. While their hearts raged within them, while their muscles cramped and their legs ached, the rest of us made jokes of their pains, cheered them on when they impressed us, and jeered at them when they seemed not to get it right. From the spectators’ end everything was so easy; talk is cheap! That day, I got the gracious reminder that living truly can only happen at the ‘acting end’ and never at the ‘spectating end.’

Unstoppability is a choice

And then the long awaiting rain started pouring down! It was hell. I got totally drenched in it. Guess what? While we the spectators were running helter-skelter in search of canopy, the actors (players) chose to be unstoppable. They played on under the rain as well as they were playing under the sun minutes earlier. Not even one of them stepped out of the pitch. And not even the referee.

Leverage on what you’ve got

Rangers is Enugu State football club. The match held in Nnamdi Azikiwe Statium, Enugu. 99% of spectators were 042 people. Rangers had all the additional advantages, and they did leverage on it. It was their pitch, their town, and their people. They weren’t lacking one bit in fan base, since next to everyone was their fan. The applause was for them and boos was for their opponent. They were in high spirits, and they capitalized on it.

Fight to the death!

This golden lesson came from the Sunshine Stars. Though they were at the disadvantaged end, they kept faith till the very final whistle. They pressed on, they persisted, they kept at it, and they fought on – to the death! Being down by 2 goals by injury time, they even pushed harder until the referee blew the final whistle on one of their men motioning towards Rangers’ goalpost with the ball.

PS: Special thanks to Vingabby for being a constant reminder and a great company. Thanks, too, to Vivian the Great for giving the evening a touch of fun; she pushed us to dancing under the rain with Rangers fan club.