chapter 4

Dressed in a plain white plain sleeve covered with a cobalt blue coat over a smart pair of trousers, in the same tone with a set of nicely made cufflinks holding off to his cuffs he was. On his neck was a well knotted polka-dot tie. In total, he was handsomely dressed. It was his 64^th year birthday. At 64 years of age, Professor Oluwole Ajayimore looked more youthful than his age foretold of him. He looked at his eye in the mirror. It still bore the scars of a past bruise. He adjusted his glasses. He lifted his eyes to his old but treasured collections on his shelf, he smiled. He took a picture frame off the shelf, staring his face into it and beaming with smiles in-between laughs, held it to his chest. Those type of smiles that arose from joy and the happiness gotten from an accomplished aim. So was the mid-morning of the old professor.                                                                                                   

Again, looking at the picture, in his old wrinkled hands, he blurred himself back to the past, the days of suffering and sorrow. The days of being stripped and rejected by the society he knew as his home. He had always been a wrestler with life who showed him her ugly side. He had gotten a lot of scars to show for it. He took his inhaler and dragged a puff. Born in Lagos State, Oluwole David Ajayimore was rather odd at birth. Unlike most children Wole didn’t cry at birth, he just starred at his apparent environment. He had those cute, bulgy set of eyes that made him admired, a smooth hair texture and that perfect body structure, neither too fat, nor too slim. By his looks one could say that he was wonderfully made right from the crown of his head to the soles of his feet. He had the physical makings of a prince. Wole had the resemblance of his mother, although, he was not privileged to met her. He often wandered, how she would have been like, Mrs. Roseline Ajayimore had died after labor. He was her first child after seven years of marriage. She was a Deltan by birth, and a catholic by faith. She was fair in complexion, tall and chubby. She had her hair often made in curls. She had a Masters degree in medicine, having graduated from the prestigious University of Ibadan popularly known as UI.                                                              

Dr. Tunde Ajayimore, had married her at the age of 37. They had met in a Catholic Church convention at Ogun State, Nigeria in the year 1993. After the liturgical mass, some hours into the programme, Dr. Ajayimore had seen a lady collapse. Rose was an asthmatic patient. So it was clear that the attack had occurred due to lack of proper respiration resulting from the large population that swallowed the hall. Thanks to God, she had fallen not too far from the young doctor, Tunde. “Give her some space, Help me get her out of here”, said Dr. Ajayimore carrying her bag in his shoulder. With the aid of a young man, he brought her out of the hall into the open field. He tried intervals of various resuscitative methods on Rose with the inhaler he found in her bag, until she awoke. He later narrated what had happened to her which she had no doubt, was true. She asked for her inhaler and been given by the man before her, she dragged various puffs in and out. Seeing the young lady getting relieved the small crowd that had gathered round her slowly dispersed back into the hall. Dr. Ajayimore was putting on an “Abraham Lincoln” suit with a gentleman set of spectacles, his hair in a fuzzy. “Thank you so much, I got lost in the programme and forgot the unventilated environment around me”. Rose was back on her feet. This wasn’t the first time she had an attack in a public place so she was indeed grateful for his assistance. “I take it that you are an asthmatic, Next time you plan to attend an occasion such as this, try your best to take some few rounds of fresh air, in a much aerated environment”. “By the way, I’m Doctor Tunde”, added the young man stretching his right hand for a handshake. Accepting the handshake she introduced herself as ’’Miss Roseline Apah”. They both exchanged complimentary cards. By profession she was a nurse at the famous SS Peter and Paul Catholic Hospital, Ughelli.                                                                                                                      

Rose was on a short-sleeved blouse on a rainbow skirt, a brownish-colored pair of flats and a silk scarf on her head, which had now turned to a ring of wools. Soon they broke into a long conversation and they exchanged phone numbers. With smiles beaming on both faces they walked back into the hall.                 

All those moments had all passed now. After the death of Wole’s mother, Mr. Ajayimore had himself another wife. If not for the sake of love and he wanted more kids, but for Wole. He didn’t want him to lack the motherly love he was not privilege to have as a young child. He was raised up as a catholic ward in St. Theresa’s Orphanage, Warri. He never knew the true affection of a mother. Back in the orphanage, the kids were all equally treated. Though, some more equal than the others. The Catholic Church, in precise; The Bishop of Warri Diocese sponsored and ran the orphanage, including the education of the kids. Even feeding and accommodation were under the shoulders of the church. The name of the founding bishop was Bishop Benedict. O. Ajayimore. He had to struggle with life and its hurdles to have the position he had as a first class graduate in medicine. Three years of age, Wole had started exhibiting signs and symptoms of asthma and after a medical checkup, he was diagnosed positive. By seven years of age, he was fit to take his medications and had mastered proper use of his inhaler. Dr. Ajayimore was not surprised considering his mother had the disease. This triggered Dr. Ajayimore into marrying his present wife. Mrs. Katherine Ajayimore, his second wife was an Anglican by faith. It took a long while in terms of courtship before Dr. Ajayimore proposed to her. After their marriage, she still attends the church of her faith and anytime her husband wasn’t around or chanced to take Wole to his church on Sundays, he would let her carry him along. After Wole’s baptism, he had great dreams for him, anytime he had a little play date with him he would often imagine the bright future he had in mind for him.