Resonant Desire

By Chuks I. Ndukwe

The small Nigerian village Chuks I. Ndukwe called home had no electricity; at night, the only light came from lanterns, fires, and the stars that twinkled above the thatched roof of his house. Then, an American scientist brought an electrical experiment to show in Chuks’s primary school class. As Chuks turned a switch on and watched light flood his classroom, he felt an excitement like nothing he’d experienced before. Unable to contain himself, he shouted that he wanted to be an electrical engineer. At the time, his declaration seemed little more than a fantasy—his family could not afford to fund his education beyond primary school.
It took a special gift from one of his teachers to set Chuks on the path to realizing his dream. Along the way he overcame many obstacles, including poverty, a lung ailment, a military coup, and jealous coworkers who tried to derail his career with rotten eggs and voodoo.

Join electrical engineer Chuks I. Ndukwe as he recounts childhood memories he’d forgotten until they illuminated one of the darkest moments of his life. Resonant Desire is a reminder that everything is possible with determination, commitment, and a little help from those who care for us.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Chuks I. Ndukwe
• Release date: Feb 28, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370832972

Chuks I. Ndukwe

Chuks I. Ndukwe is a young immigrant from Nigeria when he is thrust into the center of the rapidly evolving world of American 1980s and 1990s technology. Chuks I. Ndukwe holds degrees in computer and electrical engineering from Northeastern University, Boston. He quickly rises in ranks to the position of manager in the technology world managing international research and development department for companies like USRobotics and Lucent Technologies. But everything changed when the country was struck with a market crash in 2001 and Ndukwe is suddenly out of work. Ndukwe lost everything he owns when the franchise he bought turned out to be a scam. Relying on himself, Ndukwe searches for solutions but seems to run into one bad situation after another. After hitting rock bottom, Ndukwe remembers he has one thing he can call upon in his darkest hour; his faith and found his way back to the light. Ndukwe is now retired and lives in New Jersey. Ndukwe wants to spend his time writing to inspire others.

Book preview

Resonant Desire

Excited Innocent Mind

CHUKS I. NDUKWE

Copyright © Chuks I. Ndukwe 2016

Publisher: Chuks I Ndukwe 2016

ISBN-13: 9781370832972

© Chuks I. Ndukwe/Ikebiebooks.com

All rights reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced in any material form (including photographing or storing in any medium by electronic means) without the written permission of the copyright owner except in accordance with the provisions of the copyright. Design and Patent Act 1988. Any unauthorized act in this respect

may lead to legal proceedings, including a civil claim for damages.

Some names and identifying details have been changed to protect the privacy some individuals. Where genuine errors have occurred, every effort will be made to correct same.

To every poor child who wakes up each morning, goes to school and pays attention to his or her teacher with the desire to learn despite overwhelming and insurmountable economic and financial odds.

To all children who still see this world as an unpolluted playground and soar like birds to reach new heights.

To all teachers who spend their emotional and intellectual energy day and night to educate their pupils and set them on a course to success.

CONTENTS

Prologue

Chapter 1: Ready for School

Chapter 2: Sudden Departure

Chapter 3: Methodist Central School

Chapter 4: Leaving Home

Chapter 5: Expectation and Reality Diverged

Chapter 6: Conflicting Emotions

Chapter 7: Turn of Events

Chapter 8: Handsome Man

Chapter 9: Departing on Clunky old Lorry

Chapter 10: Sudden Jolt

Chapter 11: On the Way to Sapele

Chapter 12: Anger and Jealousy

Chapter 13: Suspension of Disbelief

Epilogue

Acknowledgements

Glossary of Igbo Words

About the Author

Prologue

When I was growing up, we did not have electricity in the village, and nobody complained about it. During Christmas celebrations people who lived in the township came home with lanterns to light up their homes. We gathered to admire the festive light. Then in 1960, an American electrical scientist visited the central school and he conducted a demonstration on the production of electric light in the classroom.

I want somebody to come up and turn the light on, the engineer said. I jumped up and ran to the demonstration table.

Close the windows, The scientist said. The classroom became dark.

Ikebie, turn the switch on, my headmaster said.

Turning the switch on, the classroom lit up, excited and amazed. I want to become an electrical engineer! I screamed.

That light not only lit up the classroom; it lit up my imagination and curiosity also. From that day, I thought about nothing else but how to become an electrical engineer. Unfortunately, my parents did not have the means to pay for my high school education. However, the headmaster did not forget the child who had sat in front of his class and screamed in excitement, I want to become an electrical engineer.

I realize my reaction was that of an excited, innocent mind, whose voice glided out of the classroom like a dove—and that voice found resonance with the natural frequency—that was transmitted through the skies to God—and God granted that wish. The title of this book, Resonant Desire, derives from that realization.

Months after graduating from primary school and leaving the village, he sent for me, and paid for my travel to the government technical high school to take the school’s entrance examination. I took the entrance examination and passed. After graduating from technical high school, I gained a scholarship to United Africa Company (UAC) technical college.

In chapter 1, I recall the dream I had in 2007—a recount of my childhood and adulthood memories—I had forgotten until they illuminated one of the darkest moments of my life.

I suspect that some readers may find my retelling of the first part of that amazing dream—my childhood memories nostalgic. To that, I plead No contest. For that spirit, and innocence is at the core of this narrative.

Right out of technical college in 1966, I started work as electrical supervisor at the company that awarded me scholarship, Star Breweries. However, I would get my first taste of envy and rage at the work-place from the electrical foreman, Mr Olatunde—who thought that I was too young for the job of electrical supervisor. In addition, he would not stand for my bossing him around.

Unwilling to start my career in atmosphere of hostility, I left Breweries and joined Nigerian Petroleum Refinery as electrical supervisor, a job I loved, and held till the end of the Nigerian-Biafra war. The East Regional Government would recognize my performance during the Nigerian-Biafra war, and appointed me assistant principal of Ahiara Trade Center in 1971—after the war.

It was this recognition by the government, I believe, that made everything else in my life possible. For it was then that, I met my best friend, Gabriel Maduka who was receiving Boston Globe from his sister; who was living in Boston with her husband. Most importantly, it was from Boston Globe that I learned about—and decided to pursue studies in computer science in the US. I would resign my teaching position after gaining admission to Honeywell Institute of Computer Science in Burlington, Massachusetts USA. Then I left Nigeria to attend college in America. The glossary of Igbo words; used in this book to help readers understand the meaning of those African words is included at the back of this book.

CHAPTER 1

Ready for School

I woke up one summer morning in 2007 gripped by disabling fear but unaware of what I was afraid of. I had lost everything I owned when the franchise I had bought turned out to be a scam. Getting home in the evening, I had no money, not even a penny in my pocket. I checked my pantry, and I had no food to cook. I searched my apartment, looking for some money carelessly misplaced. Checked everything again and did not find any money in any of the pockets. It was Friday evening, and I had nothing to cook. I lay down and stared at the ceiling, hungry with no appetite. Meanwhile, my head was boiling and about to explode. A wonderful job—engineering manager at Lucent Technologies, New Jersey ended in 2001 when the economy crashed and workers got laid off. I sought job and prayed all those years without success. Therefore, I was not in the mood for praying. However, I remembered the advice in Matthew 7:7: Ask and it shall be given you; seek and you shall find. Broke and unemployed, I remembered the manager in the high-tech industry designing Internet gateways and now hours from checking into a homeless shelter.

OK, I am seeking and asking for two things. First, a good job—fast. Second, God affirm my divorce is justified. Losing my family is killing me. I want your affirmation to be concrete and believable, I shouted.

I stood up in the darkness, trembling.

Almighty God, this is not a prayer. I am asking for a job; I am not begging. I am seeking a good job; I need some money, I lamented.

As I was babbling, I fell asleep. I dreamed throughout the night. In that dream, I watched a recount of my childhood and adult memories I’d forgotten until that very dark moment of my life.

Just thinking about that dream stirred up all kinds of feelings. I felt as if God were mad at me for not attending church anymore. I had rationalized that churchgoing is man’s attempt to make himself less flawed before God and that spirituality is a gift and an inherent relationship with God; there is the dichotomy. Judging from many things that had happened in my life, I became convinced that I had a relationship with God—and light would shine again after the storm had passed.

Before I had that dream, I’d forgotten almost everything about my childhood: names of most villages in my town and the names of my teachers. I could not even hold conversations in my native dialect. I had lost my identity—and I was not aware of it because I never thought about my life or where I came from.

One day Dr. Kanu Maduka, the most respected elder and scholar from my native hometown—whom I adored when I was a child—told me during a telephone conversation that he knew I would bounce back from my financial catastrophe. Your entire life, right from your childhood, has been nothing but amazing, he said.

Amazingly, his comment seems to be a perfect reflection of that dream although he did not know about it. This book is the first part of the retelling of that amazing dream, which revealed the powerful role that God had played in my young life in Nigeria. The sequel; the name of which is to be determined will retell the final installment of that dream—including memories of my life in the United States and how God saved me from homelessness and turned my loss to victory.

***

I was playing with Egbichi in the sandy neighborhood compound. We were naked and ashy, and covered with sand. We had been born in a village called Amigwu, located in the Amankalu section of the town of Alayi, in Abia State, Nigeria. Our villages were composed of compounds—space surrounded by row houses, which were homes of related families. Mine is Ufundierima. We had been born on the same day and at the same time of the day. Our parents were best friends, and we had learned to crawl and walk together.

You and Egbichi spoke your first words just about the same time, mom had told us.

Can’t believe it, I had argued.

It’s true—both of you said ‘Maa’ at the same time. Ask Mama Anya, she said.

We loved to play different roles in the sand. One Sunday afternoon, when we were four years old, she and I lay on the sand and traced each other’s body.

We inspected both figures to see if there was any difference between them. We drew eyes and a mouth on both figures. Then

We looked at the figures, laughed and fell over each other. When we stopped playing, mom came out and screamed at us, You’re not coming in my house covered with sand like you’ve got no sense.

We dusted the sand off each other.

Let’s go to the stream so you can take a bath, mom said.

We were riding on each other’s back when Uncles Okereke Chima, Azik Ukachukwu, and another man walked into dad’s house.

As I was dusting off the sand, dad called, Ogbuleke, come in here.

Egbichi went home then I went inside the house to greet the visitors.

Come over when you finish, she said.

Walked inside the house looking dusty with sand all over. The big man stood up.

What is your name? he asked.

Ogbuleke is my name

My name is Mr. Okpee, he said.

Uncle Okereke stood up, took my right hand, and put it over my head and asked me to touch my left ear. Tried, and was not close.

The stranger and Uncle Okereke tried to make my right hand reach my left ear; they had at it until I began to feel pain in my neck. Suddenly, they said together, Yes, he touched it.

Why do you want this child to touch his ear? You almost broke his neck? dad asked.

The Methodist church wants to open a new school at the church, Uncle Okereke said. We want him to start school because we do not have enough children to make up the required number. We know that a child is ready for school if the child is able to touch the left ear over the head.

He’s not ready for school yet, dad said, as he brought out a jar of palm wine, which he had tapped himself. Mom served them yams and vegetables. When they finished eating, I ran to Egbichi’s house excited.

Uncle Okereke wants me to start school in his church, I said.

Do you want to go? she asked.

Yes, mom said it was OK.

Egbichi grabbed her mother, sobbing.

Maa, Ogbuleke is starting school. I want to go with him, she said.

Is your uncle still in your father’s house? Mama Anya asked.

Yes, he is still there.

Mama Anya left the house and came back with a smile on her face. Both of you will be going to school together.

We hugged each other, screaming and jumping up and down until we fell on the ground. Then we got up and went back inside the house. We ran around and told our friends, even the ones we did not like to play with.

Mom’s stomach had gotten big; she kept saying there was a baby in her stomach. Woke up a few days later, early in the morning, and women were singing and dancing in the compound. Your mother had a baby this morning. Go and see the baby in the bedroom—his name is Anyele, dad said. Afraid first and then I wondered how that baby came out of her stomach. Nevertheless, when I saw her carrying the baby smiling, everything seemed very normal and the fear went away. I sat with her shaking the baby’s tiny, soft hand as the women came in groups to congratulate the new mother. For four days, Mama Anya cooked for us.

Egbichi’s father had died when she was one, so we shared one father ̶ surrogate and real. Before school opened, we got slates and chalk. We had the tailor sew our school uniforms white shirt and brown shorts and white blouse and brown skirt. When we tried the uniforms on at the tailor’s shed, he told us the uniforms fitted us very well.

You look smart already, he said.

We returned home and put the uniforms away.

Put it on, he said.

We put them on, and he looked at us and smiled.

Uzaku, come and look at these kids, said dad.

She came out, stood by her husband, and checked us out. Thank your father, she said.

Take off your uniform and give it to your mother, he father said.

Egbichi, go and show your uniform to your mother, said mom.

When we got to Egbichi’s house, her mother dropped what she was doing and hugged us. Egbichi told her to keep her uniform with the slate and chalk. In the evening Egbichi’s mother came over with a big plate of foo-foo [dough of pounded cassava flour] and egusi [ground melon seed] soup. We ate dinner together and chatted about going to school.

Every Sunday we wanted to know when school would start.

Mama Nwaka, is tomorrow a school day? Egbichi asked.

No, it’s not tomorrow, she said.

She gave us some fruits to calm us down. The thought of going to school made us feel grown, so we began to learn how to feed the new born, and to hold him on our laps. Carrying the baby was as much fun as playing in the sand as long as he did not poop or burp. When the baby pooped or burped, Egbichi had no problem helping to clean him up.

One Sunday after Christmas, while we were playing at the square and enjoying roasted beans and coconut. Suddenly, Egbichi said. Those people are going to Papa Ikebie’s house.

Uncle Okereke, Azik Ukachukwu, and Mr. Okpee strolled across the square to our house. Then we followed them.

When we got home, we sat by silently, hoping to hear that school would open the next day. The visitors were treated to a special brew of undiluted palm wine and delicious Sunday meal. Mom was in an unusually friendly mood, my baby brother was sleeping in the bed, and we were anxious to hear from the visitors.

We were helping her clean up after the meal when she took us to her room and said, You are starting school tomorrow.

We dropped everything, ran straight to Mama Anya, and told her. Awake all night, and anxious to put on the new school uniform morning could not come any sooner.

I am a big boy now, was a sweet silent thought.

On Monday, school kids woke up early and some strolled to Igwu to bath.

Maa, wake up.

Ogbu, what are you doing waking up so early? Go back to sleep, she yelled.

I want to go to the stream and take a bath; it’s time to go to school.

No, it’s too early. I will wake you up in the morning, she said.

I went back to bed grudgingly staring at the underside of the thatched roof waiting for her to call me. Ogbu, wake up, she said suddenly.

Jumped up and ready to walk down to the stream, but she had the baby in her arms, which meant she was not thinking about going anywhere.

Go and wake Egbichi up. I have a bucket of warm water ready for you two to take your bath, she said.

Getting to Egbichi’s house, she was sleeping, and her mother was cooking.

Mom wants both of us to take a bath at my house.

OK, come back and eat before you go to school, she said.

We ran to mom as she was preparing food for us too.

Mama Anya wants us to eat at her house, Egbichi told mom.

OK, I will wrap this up for you to take to school for lunch, she said.

We went back to Mama Anya’s house and ate the breakfast she had prepared specially to make us happy. It was our favorite breakfast: akara (fried balls of dough of black eyed peas) and akamu (creamy blend of corn flour). We put our uniforms on, feeling proud and excited. Mom escorted us to the village square. We stood there wondering why she would not let us go. We waited and waited until we got restless.

Stop jumping around, mom said.

Why are we standing here? Egbichi asked.

We are waiting for Jeni.

Suddenly, a tall woman approached us. Mama Nwaka, she said.

How are you? mom asked.

Mr. Okpee instructed me to pick these two kids up. I will walk with them to school and back every day, she said.

Yes, I know; that’s why we are waiting for you, I will have food waiting for you, I want you to come to the house on your way back from school, mom said.

We walked to school with the tall woman behind us; sometimes she held our hands. When we got to the church house, there were kids all over the green grass. It was intimidating to play with those kids, who were much bigger than us.

Put your bags down and join your mates, the tall woman told us.

We played for a while, and then Mr. Okpee blew his whistle and asked us to form two lines. We marched back and forth while he yelled, Left, right, left, right. Finally, he directed us into the church house.

My name is Mr. Nnaji Okpee—you can call me Mr. Okpee—and this is Miss Jeni Okorie. You can call her Miss Okorie, Mr. Okpee told us.

Miss Okorie spent some time teaching us a song for our morning assembly, and Mr. Okpee said the prayer. Then Mr. Okpee divided us into two classes. We were disappointed because we had hoped to be in the same class.

Miss Okorie marched her class to the far end of the church, while Mr. Okpee’s class took the front end of the church. It was not so bad. Luckily, we could see each other from our respective seats. On the first day, we sat on the floor, and the teachers sat on their chairs.

This is your permanent seat, Mr. Okpee announced.

This is how we will sit every day, Miss Okorie announced to her kids.

We took turns telling our favorite folk stories. Some stories were very familiar, and others were very new. As the kids came up to tell their stories, kids began to like each other just from the kind of stories they told and how they told the story. Some kids really made the class laugh.

Suddenly, Mr. Okpee called out. Ikebie, it is your turn, he said.

The story about turtle came to mind; it was a popular story, so most of the kids knew the story. When it got to the part that involved singing, the whole class joined in singing the song as Egbichi looked in our direction wishing she were in our class because she liked the story too.

When the bell went off again, we took a short break. During the break, kids gathered around and expressed how much they liked the story. When we returned to the class, the two classes joined.

You must bring a stool, slate, and chalk to school every day, Mr. Okpee said.

We sang the song Miss Okorie taught us, and finally school was over. When we got home, mom was cooking yams and vegetable sauce.

How did they do in school? mom inquired.

They did well, Miss Okorie replied.

Did they fall asleep?

No, they had lots of energy.

Mom served us the food. Get water for your teacher, she said.

I’d like to get it; she’s my teacher, Egbichi said

OK, you can get it, mom replied.

After eating, Miss Okorie held the baby for a while,